Musings of the Museless

Just testing out writing from my iPod touch via an app. Yes, there’s an app for that.

Welcome to 2010. February 2, 2010 to be exact. *sigh* Time flies when you’re having fun. Or not having fun. Not that I’m not having fun. It’s just that no matter what you do, or don’t do, time marches on. It’s not waiting for the world or situation to change, like you might be. Time really has no emotions or mercy. It certainly stops for no one – I’m not one who believes in the notion that time slows in a tender moment. I normally experience the opposite. The most boring moment can last a lifetime, but the fun and touching times are over before you know it.

It’s up to us to grab the moments that matter before they pass us by and tear them open like a gift, blow them up like a balloon to fill all possible space and bounce them around, float them along, play with them and around them. I just finished watching “Groundhog Day”, and one thing I had forgotten about is how much Bill Murray’s character Phil grows, once he realizes the gift he is given – the gift of time, the chance to live each day knowing that there’s another one coming and it will hold exactly what he expects and he knows exactly how to make a difference.

I don’t have resolutions this year. I don’t even have concrete goals. I am trying to make time my friend (my bitch?), to tame it, organize it. I find too much of my time is spent doing Stuff I’d rather not be doing, and while I accept a certain amount of this is necessary in life (unless I’m independently wealthy, then screw it), I’m growing selective about what Stuff occupies my extra time. Or at least, I’m trying to. At the very least, I’m figuring out that saying “No” once in a while hurts someone a lot less than I imagine it will when I’m running through reasons not to say “No” in my head. The Stuff that occupies my time should first and foremost be good for me and the folks I love/like – I’ve started running again, trying to spend more time being social with family and friends.

We’ll see how it goes, hey?

It seems like we were fated to have Wesley in our lives, as it took him two tries to stay here.  Our first encounter with Wes was in late fall 2004, when we temporarily hosted him while Beagle Paws searched for a new foster family for him.  His previous family could not keep him in their apartment; anytime they left him alone to get groceries or even go to the laundry room, he would howl mournfully, disturbing the neighbours.  Since the foster family did not have a car and we lived close by, they walked him to our house to see him off.  He needed to a home with constant company or another dog, something we could provide for the short term, but not something we were really interested in providing on a longer basis because of April and her alpha dog needs.  During his weekend stay, Wesley proved to be a great beagle, but his non-neutered status posed a few interesting situations with April.

Once in a while after that, we would check the Beagle Paws web page to see if Wesley had finally been adopted; he had not.  In March 2005, we got a call from Beagle Paws.  They needed a more permanent foster home for Wesley, who was now living with an older couple and their dogs and cats.  Wesley was now neutered, and we felt he and April could happily co-exist until he found his forever home.  We quickly discovered that they could, providing Wesley was not kenneled during the day while we were at work or at night while we tried to sleep.  Upon kenneling him, it was the first and only time we could identify that mournful howl that had gotten him moved from his other foster homes.  So at night he took his place next to April, right by our feet.

Though we didn’t officially adopt Wesley until December 2005, he was part of our family long before that.  Everyone loved the little dog with the sad Eeyore eyes who said very little, did not seek attention but loved receiving it, occasionally said “Arrroooo” to let you know he was there, and sought treats as if he was starving (trust me, he was not).  Wesley did suffer from separation anxiety.  Shortly after we departed with out suitcases to go on a two-week holiday in 2006, our dog-sitters Chris and Kerry arrived to find long strings of rug trailing from Wesley’s mouth.  When extremely anxious, he ate anything he shouldn’t (books, important papers, rugs, clothing, human food, etc.) and was prone to “accidents”.  But all blame was absolved when you looked at his face; you could tell that he didn’t mean it, he was just worried that his humans weren’t coming back.

It is hard to pin-point Wesley’s age. When he was first listed for adoption in fall 2004, he was thought to be 3-4 years old. When we started fostering him in March 2005, his age had been bumped up to 6-7 years old (which I directly link to his neutering :) ). On our first visit to the vet as Wesley’s owners in January 2006, the doctor estimated that Wesley was about 9-10 years old.  In many photos, he has been mistaken for being a young dog because of his expression and enthusiasm (usually because someone is holding a treat in an attempt to get the photo).  Before arthritis became a big problem, his jaunty walk was almost puppy-like.

Prior to being rescued by Beagle Paws, Wesley may have had a rough life.  We’re not certain, but were told he was found covered in tar when he was taken into Beagle Paws custody.  We found this out when getting his medical history for the vet when dealing with a paw puncture that would not stop bleeding.  When they shaved him to get rid of the tar, his anxious nature led to a nose bleed that was not easily stopped.  The source of the bleed in his paw puncture was thankfully not his anxiety but rather the artery he had nicked, which was treated by a new girlfriend, Dr. Laite.  While fixing that, they removed a strange growth on his paw and he spent two weeks poorly maneuvering around the house with a lamp shade collar.

Wesley was no stranger to the vet or the lamp shade collar.  He suffered constant annoying ear infections, and upon the recommendation of the vet, had aural reconstructive surgery to remove the bend in his ear canal.  This reduced the ear infections, but did not eliminate the need for frequent ear cleanings, with “ear dirt” of the likes we have never seen on April.  He also had arthritis, for which we did not seek treatment; a semi-regular glucosamine and lifts on the bed and couch seemed to do the trick.

In May 2007, Wesley quickly became very sick.  He stopped eating, started vomiting, and lost all energy.  We were very worried.  An emergency visit to the vet and some tests showed that his liver function was quite poor.  A weekend stay at the vet’s office with IV to boost his fluids did the trick to fix him, but we left armed with a daily vitamin, special food, and a warning to stay clear from commercial treats.  In the process, Wesley had found a new girlfriend – his vet, Dr. Wilson.

Despite his health troubles, Wesley enjoyed his quiet life.  He became quite animated and pranced around when we returned home from work, if we were heading out for a walk around the street, or when he received one of his special treats (veggie biscuits from the vet’s office).  He slipped and slid on the hardwood while trying to stand and eat, or jump off the bed (he could never jump on the bed),  or if his nails needed a trim.  He enjoyed curling up on the couch or his bed, following us around to see what we were doing, and just being around his people.

Over the last four months of 2008, we noted a decline is Wesley’s health and activity levels.  Walks were kept short, and eliminated in colder weather (his hips could not keep up with his desire to get around the street).  He stopped going down the patio steps to the backyard, and would spend a lot of time waiting at the corner of the house to come in after a visit to the backyard (instead of at the door) or just staring off into space.  He slept a lot more, ate a lot less, and lost weight.  His rapid decline over Christmas led to another trip to the vet on January 2, 2009. There we received confirmation that something was wrong – a tumour in his throat that would eventually block his windpipe.  Wesley spent his last few weeks enjoying all-day love and attention from all his fan club members on Christmas vacation, and his last few moments pigging out on some “forbidden” treats and quietly cuddling in the arms of the family who loved him. He was about 12 years old.

In the second of an ongoing series of posts, I’d like to share with you, dear reader (singular), what boils my blood, what grinds my gears, what gets my goat.  Some may think I’m easy going but there are many things that get on my nerves.  And this is one of them.

I send and receive a number of emails over the run of the week.  Work email, IEEE email, social emails, responding to emails telling me how to enlarge things and get money from a dead guy’s Swiss bank account.  It’s all good.  I’m a big fan of email over actually talking to people.  But not all emails are created equally.  Not even emails written by the same person on the same day.  And some email habits really drive me nuts.  Maybe I’m old-school.  Let me share with you some of my email driven angst:

• Emails sent without subjects. I cringe everytime Gmail says (no subject) for the subject to an email I’ve received.  I don’t CARE if the email is a one-liner asking me about my weekend plans.  Or if you only email me on one topic, therefore there’s no need to explicitly state the subject.  I don’t care if you forgot.  The subject line is there to be filled in.  I like to know what’s inside.  I like to look back on the subject and determine what your email was about.  And usually, if I’m replying to a no-subject email, I fill one in.  You may not notice, but it makes me a little happier.
• Emails with more than one topic. I’m a bit… OCD about filing my email.  I love Gmail and how it allows me to tag one email with multiple labels.  But I’d prefer not to have to do that.  Personally, I’d prefer two separate emails with well-crafted subject lines.
• Emails not written coherently. It’s a informal form of communication, but it’s only communication if both parties are communicating.  If I can’t understand you, it’s not really communicating.  I’m not talking good grammar, or full sentences.  Re-read your email from the point of view of one who did not write it… can you understand what you are trying to get across?
• SPAM from myself. Do you get this?  It’s happening a lot on my school account.  And I’m not seeing a damn cent from it.  Argh.

That is all.

In the first of an ongoing series of posts, I’d like to share with you, dear reader (singular), what boils my blood, what grinds my gears, what gets my goat.  Some may think I’m easy going but there are many things that get on my nerves.  And this is one of them.

I like grocery shopping.  I like making the list, and then ignoring the list as I load up on ice cream and cookies and whatnot.  But there are a few things about this semi-weekly outing that drive me nuts:

• People who bag bananas.  Bananas come pre-bunched.  And in peels.  WHY do you need to further protect them by putting them in a plastic bag?  A plastic bag, I might add, that is good for practically nothing once it is done transporting your precious bananas home.  Really.  They’re not that fragile.  They survived growing on that tree out in nature, and the truck from Belize to here; they’ll survive the ride home.  Oh, and I hold this same grudge for people who bag one apple, orange, green/red pepper, etc.
• The lack of grocery selection in the grocery store that sells me motor oil. Okay, I don’t buy motor oil.  Someone else takes care of that for me. :)  But if I did, would I buy it whilst buying my strawberries and Havarti?  Probably not.  Some probably find it handy or convenient.  But when I need andouille sausage or dried hot peppers, it’s frustrating to know that the store doesn’t have it, but hey, they have Monopoly and a large selection of light bulbs.
• No one knows where to find the toothpicks. Toothpicks fall into a category of goods that the fine folks who organize grocery stores don’t know how to handle.  So they don’t.  Instead, they place them randomly around the store in hopes you will buy other things while looking for them.
• SUV-sized carts.  I’m generally not interested in buying groceries to fill my bomb shelter.  Why is my cart sized specifically for that purpose?  The basket is too small.  The cart is too large.  Oh, for a happy medium.

That is all.

This will be a post.  Honest.  But not right now, I’m going to walk the dogs.

… I’m posting a blog entry

… while running some Matlab code for my Masters’ research

… and I’m not hating it, avoiding it, or finding any old excuse not to do either.

I’m sucking it up. I’m doing what needs to be done to get this monkey (the thesis, not the blog) off my back. And I’m making (another) public declaration of my commitment through this medium in hopes of keeping myself Accountable.

Let me digress… almost two months ago, I turned 28. It’s not a milestone year, except for the fact that it’s closer to 25 than to 30. I’m not fearful of 30 or anything, but turning 30 is one of those Milestones. Some call 25 a milestone (my sister-in-law the doctor proclaimed that when she turned 25 she was ‘entering a whole new age bracket for different diseases’), but IMO you’re still figuring out who and what you are at 25. You’re still a “youf” (bonus points to anyone who catches the reference… ). You can still frig around, mess up and recover, and no one is going to judge you as being a failure. But 30… though I know some (many) who would argue with me, to be 30 is to be Grown Up (note the caps). Not necessarily meaning you have to stop being fun or silly (I don’t think I could do that if I tried), but it means to start taking Control and taking Responsibility (again, note the caps) of my life and my actions (or lack thereof).

So, I’ve been making the slow movement towards being a Grown Up, taking Control and Responsibility for my life. And the biggest thing I haven’t been taking Responsibility for is the commitment I made 4.5 years ago to get my M.Eng. degree (yes, it’s been THAT long). Rather than play the game of Avoidance, I’m giving in, sitting down, coding up, and seeing what happens.

I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, I’ve got to check on my results.

I’m off work this week, but not to go anywhere fun and interesting (though we may go camping tomorrow!).  I am home, helping my DH with a list of home repairs and improvements.  The windows are painted, and the basement bathroom is being worked on.  I can’t do “before” pictures because this project is a long time in the making, but I’ll show some “after” pics when it’s done.

I haven’t posted anything in a really really really long time.  I’ll start soon.

I was one of many who lined up at Chapters on Friday evening to get my pre-ordered copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows… I’ve been counting down the days, spent the past few months re-reading the previous books for clues as to the fate of the wizarding world. I devoured it Saturday, but not in the manner I’ve read the previous releases; I read it quickly in careful chunks, wanting to let what was happening sink in rather than letting events tangle and blur in my mind (because, not to give anything away to those waiting to read it, but it IS an action-packed book). Some make fun of me for only reading every second word, and while that’s not true, once my copy of the book returns back to me I will be re-reading at a more leisurely pace, to enjoy the company of characters I’ve watched grow and develop over a seven-year span.
This article from CBC perfectly fits my thoughts on the series and what it has meant in the bigger picture. We even jumped into the series at the same time, and while we’ll both miss Harry and the gang (my favorite has always been Hermoine, but not how she is portayed in the movies… the Hermoine I see when reading will always be the Hermoine I first pictured when reading), the series is over and that’s that. But for a brief while, millions of Muggles have been simultaneously enthralled by a tale of external and internal struggle.

Ya wouldn’t always think it, to look at the weather we’ve had here lately.  One nice day means we must have at least two cold and foggy/rainy days. Honest.  It doesn’t feel like summer yet either.  Could be because I haven’t done my doing yet.  It’s hard….. I was away for two weeks for work, now  Brian is spending the week in Oslo for work, so it’s not like we can camp (if the weather were to cooperate).  But hey, one good recent development is that Geoff’s home for good!
I’m trying to be productive.  One thing I did do last night was update my gallery.  You can now find pics from my latest work trip to Samara, Russia, with a day stopover in London thrown in for good measure.  It was a good trip in that work went pretty much as planned and wasn’t too tiring.  Some very nice people from some lovely places.