Thursday, December 29, 2011

Modelling - Such a Chore


Is modelling hard? {choke}

That was the question posed on Fashion Television recently by Jeanne Beker (the host) to a “retired” model.

Well.

I have always heard of the “demands” put on models and how tough their road is. All those designer clothes you have to put on (and you sometimes have to keep) which fit you perfectly; those horrifically beautiful Manolo Blahniks that make your feet look like 100 carat diamonds carrying your (lack of) weight as you glide down the runway; all those annoying people oooing and aahhhing over your beauty. If they are really obnoxious they might even clap for you at the end of the show.

Or maybe it is the travel to exotic lands and all the laying around sexily on the beach that makes you feel over worked. Smiling. It must be hard to always have to smile in front of that blasted camera man as he tries to capture your awesomeness to be recorded in print for all time. Oh! And the gobs of money that twirls all around you as it is almost literally dumped on your gorgeous, perfectly teased brown locks of hair. I get that. It must be really tough.

Well, this retired model decided to steal Jeanne’s microphone and ask some of the models at a Paris show (Paris for Eddie’s sake!!!) how they felt about their workload.

Some said it was very stressful. Some said they were tired. Some said it was hard work.

And one said this:

“At the end of the day, it is not like we are saving lives.”

Thank you. Thank you very much for saying that.

But my favourite quote of the show was this:

“Just keep a banana in your purse and you’ll be fine.”

Yes! YES!!

And I don’t think she even had diabetes!

So when you are feeling sorry for yourself because you think you are overworked, this is the answer. (Unless of course you are actually saving lives.)

Just keep a banana in your purse.

And if you are having a really bad day, add a bag of almonds. They might just get you through.

;)



To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

GASOLINE In My FACE?!?!

 So I saw a new doc the other day. On Christmas Eve Eve Eve. His name was Dr. Afrifri or Afroufrou or something like that. (Need I comment?)
There I sat. In the waiting room. With nothing but sighs, magazines flipping, Oh! and one guy who blurted out "Yabadabadoo!"
I have no reference for that and I am not even kidding. That's all I heard.
Perhaps he was making up for music that was not playing in the background.
Seriously.
They couldn't just play a little Christmas music for us while I sat there waiting to find out if I have skin cancer. Noooo. We had to sit in on-edge silence instead.
Where's the psychology in that? Let's put every patient in the waiting room under as much stress as possible during this holiday season. Yes. Let's do that. Merry Christmas.
Speaking of stress...how to make one's blood pressure and sugar rise in an instant...
So I get called to the room, which is sterile and pristine and contains not a single stealable drug in sight. Not even behind the closed cabinet doors.  (I would never...)
There, sitting smack dab in the middle of the room is a chair. An ominous cross between a dental chair (blech!) and a foldable massage contraption. (Although I'm pretty sure I wasn't about to get one of those.)
Like a pouty obedient child I put on my paper gown and sat in the less threatening chair that was provided.
That's when I started to look around.
Directly beside me was an electrical-looking metal box with some kind of appendage on it and had a sticker on the side of it saying this:
"Danger! Explosion risk when used with flammable anesthetic".
Now,
How do I understate what went through my mind in that moment in case a young child reads this.
Umm...
Let's see...
What if I put it this way...
WHAT IS FREAKIN' WRONG WITH THIS FREAKIN' PICTURE!!!!!
WHAT in the world did they use that thing for, was it going to be coming AT me and WHY are there EXPLOSIVES in this medical examination room that was meant to (I thought) save lives?!?!?
I certainly could've used some of those nonexistent drugs from behind the closed cabinet doors as the doc inserted a needle full of what I can only assume was GASOLINE as he ANESTHETIZED my FACE in order to SCRAPE OFF A SKETCHY MOLE.
Good times at Dr. Africkfrick's office, let me tell you.
Sheesh.
I can't wait for my follow-up appointment to find out the results of the lab tests on my missing piece of face.
I think I will bring one of those old-school boom-boxes and donate it to the waiting room. I'll even donate a Black Eyed Peas CD with Boom Boom Pow! on it since apparently THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT COULD HAPPEN ANY TIME YOU ENTER "THE ROOM".
Watch this blog for further developments.
I'm sure it will be a blast.

To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Family (dys) Functions

So, Christmas trees are being packed up, lights taken down and tinsel packed neatly away...except for those odd couple of strands that hide beneath coffee tables only to find their way into the intestines of your cat which never ends well, if you know what I mean.
Now, if you are lucky, you will have the time to reflect and relish the memories of being with friends and family.
Family.
Family dynamics.
Funky family functions (dys?).
Only we can't talk about them now because they are still alive.
Well...
Okay, maybe just a little.
Have you ever played Pictionary with my brother-in-law?
It's ridiculous.
I have a question...
If you were going to draw the word "soul" for your spouse during an all-play, what would you draw?
Obviously the sole of a shoe. How the heck else would you draw the word soul?
Well, my husband drew a body. That's a far as he got.
His brother took it a step further. He drew a body with wings and started penciling a harp before getting rudely interrupted by the intelligent opposition who drew the bottom of a shoe, leading their partner right to the answer.
A HARP!!!
Can I just say something?
This coming from the A+ university student genius of the family!
Oh he's genius alright. He's the shining star that illuminates the whole wide world with his exceptionalism.
Sure, sure Russensation. Believe what you will. But I can only imagine how you would sketch a heart.
Where does the left ventricle go again? ;)

Susan


To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Friday, December 23, 2011

Blame the Drugs - Part Two

K. So.
I just read my blog from the other night entitled "I'll Just Blame it on the Drugs, Okay?".
Oh. My. Word.
Oh. Dear.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I had no idea my nighttime drugs did that to me. (Prescription. I promise. Although that blog post makes me wonder why they are legal.)
Note to self: Never write anything, not so much as a grocery list, 20 minutes or later after popping the cocktail.
You wanna know something interesting though? Just write the word "drugs" in the title of your blog and you will get record hits.
Interesting.
Either people are enthralled with my possible demise in the throws of addiction or they themselves wanna get their hands on some little goodies. Eh? Eh? Don't you think?
Well, they are not for sale. Although with current market value of those little jiggers plus a sizable markup, I could be loaded.
No.
No.
Don't even think of it Susie.
No! I have morals! Standards!
Plus...you think I am crazy on the drugs? You should see me off them! (I'd have to be sleeping for you to witness the craziness since that is when the fun really starts, [right C?] which could be a little awkward. Our bed isn't that big. And I don't think Mr. Man would approve of visitors. ;)
No.
I'll just keep those little baggies for myself. (What? I have a system.)
I do apologize for my lack of editing the other night. But thanks for coming along for the ride. I hope you felt as happy as I did. ;)
I'll leave you on that high note.
Merry Christmas everyone! And remember...
Don't drug and blog! ;)



To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Thursday, December 22, 2011

What a Turkey! (Literally...)

I found the most helpful book ever made at Shopper's Drugmart today.
The title was...
Wait for it...
W-a-i-t-f-o-r-i-t...
"How to Cook a Turkey"
325+pages on
How to Cook a Turkey
Now,
I have never, nor will I ever, profess to be a gourmet chef. I won't even tell you I am a good cook.
But,
325 pages on HOW TO COOK A TURKEY?!?!?
Can you imagine the electric bill you'd get after pre-heating your oven while you follow the recipe?!
It's a good thing I told you about this book so you can pick it up at a boxing day sale and start preparing the turkey for next year!
Does raw meat last that long? I'm a vegetarian so what do I know? I won't even touch the stuffing if the bird was actually...well...stuffed. Blech!
How to Cook a Turkey.
Well.
There you have it folks.
My handy helpful tip of the season.
 I suggest you pick up some of those $2 reading glasses while you are buying the book at the pharmacy. You are gonna need 'em!
Merry roasting!
(Blech!)

To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

I'll just blame it on the Drugs, Okay?

How does one explain forgetting a grandchild – nope a nephew (Nighttime drugs have kicked in. You could be in rof a ride.) when shopping for presents. It’s not so much that I forgot about him as much as I mis-aged him and thought he belonged on a different list. The one I don’t make. Apparently he’s turning 18 and not 19 in two weeks which would have disqualified him from aunty susie’s Christmas list due to having reached adulthood. But nope. He’s still gotta be a very old child. Darn!

But it mite just chape up to be the most interesting present of all. Did I mention my mind is working at half its speed and can’t direct my thoughts nor my fingers in a strait line. (They are prescription I promise. I promise.)

What I can’t promise is my last minite gift idea is going to be quite so genious in the morning when I come down from the upside down ceiling. ( I think that’s the floor actually right?)

Maybe I should send this tomorrow. Of how abouts now since I am not of right mind.

Oh my dear grandson – nope nephew! (I don’t even have children. Not sure how I could possibly have grandchildren! I think you need one before the other.

I can’t even tell you what the awesome surprise will be cause He might telepathically read my mind, or maybe even simply read this blog. And if he could telepathically read my mind then it wouldn’t matter if I told you or not, would it. (I doubt it. He’s Eighteen. NO SUSIE! Seventeen! Good gosh.)

Does anyone else have any children I should know about and be putting on my list? Cuz it’s getting late and the words on this page are starting to warp and I think I better stop now.

I am a poopy aunt. But next year, well next year I will get it right and buy him NOTHING!!!

Merry Christmas to all you over-aged adults out there!

To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Nostalgically Crazy!

Ahh...piano Christmas music playing in the background, presents wrapped, 5 inch tall tree set up, dog purring, time to throw another log on the fire - it’s Christmas!

Wait! I don’t have a fireplace! My house is burning down! Oh, no, that is just the candle I lit for ambiance and warmth.

Yes, I said my dog is purring. I am dead serious. I’m not sure he knows it’s Christmas, but when I scratch behind his ear just right, he morphs into an 85 pound cat right before my eyes.

Way to get in the spirit Bob.

So to celebrate this awesome time of year, guess what I am doing today?

GOING TO WALMART.

You see, as I sit in my ambient home I get nostalgic. I think I should be out in the hustle and bustle where all the people are scurrying about, getting their last preparations in for the season, frolicking with joy.

So, I take a lovely drive in the delicately falling snow and enter...THE CITY.

HAVE I LOST MY MIND?!?!

NO ONE in WALMART on the 21st of December is FROLICKING!

And now I am committed. Because I put that one necessary item on my list that demands I stay in line for 45 minutes as children scream with unjoy as mothers try to hide last minute toys from “Santa” under their coat in their shopping carts and offer to give them away. (The children I mean.)

No, perhaps Walmart wasn’t my best choice. I think I might just want to throw another log on THEIR fire and they don’t have a fireplace either.

My word of advice...when feeling nostalgic, stay home, reminisce about the moments when you actually liked your children (don’t worry, I blame Walmart for the dislike...not your kids ;) or if you don’t have kids, curl up on your couch with your 85 pound cat and make him purr.

May you all be a Bob this season.

Merry Christmas.
J

P.S. Just came home. Does the fact that I had time to watch a whole sitcom including commercials while waiting in line tell you anything? (Unfortunately, no sitcoms were to be found. Unless you count the murmurs of 200 people lined up swearing under their breath due to the fact that we had time to watch a comedy, comedy. ;) Oh well. I did it to myself...

To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Monday, December 19, 2011

I Have A Problem

There are cookies in the house.

This is a problem.

It started out as a nice gesture for my husband. He loves Ginger cookies and in our 16 ½ years of marriage I have whipped up a batch a total of three times for him. Each time as a surprise. This time was no different. He went away on a business trip and when he came home I had a Tupperware container wrapped, bow and all, sitting on the table waiting for him with a card that said, “Just because.” Sweet eh?

Yeah.

Sweet all right.

I never should have tasted the soft ooey-gooey sweetness of the sugar and molasses melded together with love. No. Now I know how good they taste.

And therein lies the problem.

Why do I have the will-power of a monkey?!? Only instead of my temptation being bananas, no, it has to be blindness disguised as a cookie!

I know myself well enough to normally store nothing in my house that will cause me to stumble. Stumble right into the clutches of momentary pleasure sneakily wrapped in hidden life-long consequence.

I thought I was strong enough.

{sigh}

My husband is going to have to take those little devils to work with him. Tomorrow.

Until then, the monkey within me will just have to starve. I will take control. I must take control.

It is almost unfathomable that a cookie could contain so much power.

Almost.

Unfortunately the boxing match between Mr. Will and Mr. Temptation is very, very real.

I pray it’s a knockout.

And I hate violence...


To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Are Those Puppy-Dog Eyes?

I think I want a puppy.
I also think I might be crazy for wanting a puppy. But maybe the puppy would be therapy for my craziness?
I am in love with American Eskimos. All that glorious white fur hanging delicately surrounding a smiling brown-eyed face. Sooooo cute!
I looked up info on the breed and found everything I was looking for: Intelligent, easy to train, friendly, etc. etc. Did I mention they are adorably cute!?!
Yes. There is a catch. Of course there is.
He's a shedder. A heavy shedder. My dreamy Mr. prince of a puppy will leave hair EVERYWHERE!
I already have one of those "heavy shedders". His name is Bob and he is the most awesome dog in the world. But as I've mentioned before, he leaves hair on my couch, my carpet, in my food and, by golly ON MY CLOTHES!!! Wearing fur should be intentional, not accidental.
Did I tell you about the time I went to a shoe store, asked to try on a pair of shoes, and as I pulled my foot out of my tall leather boots...BOB was there!?! I was mortified. I couldn't buy those fabulous new shoes because if I tried them on, the sales woman would have choked! Probably on a hairball!
So...what do I do about this puppy? Do I commit to vacuuming four times a day (as if!), or do I opt out of this whole impossible situation?.
Hmm...Maybe I should just buy a furry white purse. I saw one at Guess that was fabulous!
Maybe I'll leave it as a surprise.
Next time you see me, you'll have to look very closely...Are there eyeballs peaking out from my little ball of fur?

To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Disabled Persons Sad?

I was sitting in a coffee shop this morning and overheard a fascinating conversation between waitresses. It went something like this:

               “Yeah, he jumped off the bed,” (I automatically assume it’s her son, so sad.)
               “He broke all kinds of bones. Needed surgery. Has lost all bladder control,” (Maybe her dad? Again, so sad. But I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate her publicly talking about his lack of bladder control.)
               “Who would’ve thought a little Dachshund would do such damage to himself by jumping off the bed.” (Oh, a dog. I get it.)
Once again my mind started turning.
Here I had been picturing a little boy crippled and on crutches, then an elderly man in a wheelchair for the remaining part of his days, and had jumped to all sorts of conclusions about how they must be feeling and coping. Hmm...What is wrong with this picture.

Doesn’t that happen way too often though? We make assumptions about people with apparent disabilities (whether they be physical or mental) and think we know what they must be experiencing. That they must be sad or angry at the world or frustrated. (Perhaps that is how we think we would feel under the same circumstances?) Like somehow their happiness depends on whether they can walk or not or whether they can talk, etc. etc.  How unfair! Of us to make that judgement I mean. Who gets to quantify quality of life but each person themselves?

I am not saying we shouldn’t give a helping hand when needed, out of courtesy, respect or love. But not out of projected pity. No, definitely not.

Guess what? I am a disabled person. (Not completely of course ;) And I might become even more disabled if I lose my sight or toes or have other complications of my diabetes get worse. I should know better as to not project my own fear or negativity surrounding disability on others.
So I am here today to say I am sorry - sorry for making assumptions about people who are different than me. (Isn’t that everyone?!) Sorry for assuming I even knew who the waitress was talking about and judging her for it.

I trust that we can be gracious with each other as we blunder our way through life. At least I hope we can. I need as much grace (maybe more?) as the next guy.

And just for the record...I feel badly for the dog too. ;)

To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Normal Chest Pain?!?

“These gloves don’t taste good.”
Why would I have said such a thing you ask? Well, that is a very good question. Don wondered aloud the very same thing.

I was chilled to the bone as we sped by vast nothingness in the middle of Saskatchewan, so I slid my leather gloves over my non-delicate fingers in an attempt to exorcise the cold. Then I proceeded to lick them in order to turn a page in my notebook (as a side note, I can’t read my own printing on a good day, never mind after rapidly scribbling down outrageous anecdotes in a moving vehicle in the dark) thus leading me to verbalize this ridiculous statement.
These were not the only odd words to exit my mouth on that trip. At one point I found myself saying, “It doesn’t feel like my normal chest pain.”

Normal chest pain? Something is wrong with this picture. The fact that I was experiencing chest pain in that moment alone was enough to cause concern. But when I qualify it with a statement like that? That can’t be good.
It didn’t help that the very next day I heard a research cardiologist speak on the dangers of heart disease and attack in people with diabetes. It was fascinating but was stressful enough to bring on more chest pain. And right before I had to speak too! I had visions of keeling over right there on stage in my tall black boots and sequined dress. Can you imagine?! One big 6’ pile of purple sparkle crumpled in a heap in the middle of the stage. The good news is there was a cardiologist in the house. ;)

Seriously though, heart disease is the leading killer of people with diabetes. As stressful as his words and visuals were, they were good reminders of how important it is to take care of our health. So much can be going on under the surface that we don’t have any idea is even happening. By the time symptoms show up it is often too late. (Dang. I guess I am hitting that treadmill again today...)

 I am happy to report that I have seen my General Practitioner this week and had the first normal ECG (EKG) I have ever had. Yay! My “normal” and “abnormal?” chest pain must be due to other issues. (Yay again? I could do without the other issues too, thank you very much. ;)
So the moral of the story is this: Don’t lick your leather gloves and aim for heart health.

I have no idea how those two things ended up in the same sentence! ;)

To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Monday, December 12, 2011

Moves Like Jagger?

I busted a move or two and wore a purple sparkly dress and gave a motivational talk to people touched by diabetes. No, not all at the same time! That would be a little much don’t you think?! But yeah, that’s right. I pulled ‘em out (my moves I mean) in the parking lot of a Tim Horton’s in Grande Prairie Alberta with “Moves Like Jagger” blasting through our car speakers. And I did wear the sparkly purple dress while sharing my story to the diabetes crowd.

You are judging me right now aren’t you!
That’s okay. Good times were had by all. Well, maybe not the poor taxi driver who sat in his car and stared at me while I danced freely in the parking lot while my friends got their coffees, but I sure was having fun.

As for the Diabetes Awareness day, I’m not sure if the man sleeping in the back row of the theatre while I was talking was a sign that he didn’t sleep the night before, had had his fill of information from the other speakers or was just plain bored, (obviously my dress didn’t wow him too much ;) but the rest of the audience seemed pretty into it. All I can do is hope at least some of them were motivated to make positive choices when it comes to health or spur on those they love to do so.
I will say this: The calibre of doctors and health care professionals that spoke that day was phenomenal. (A pretty humbling experience for me I might add.) Don and I gleaned so much new and cutting edge material (and I don’t mean jokes, although the trip itself did provide some of that kind ;) from those Calgarians that the trip was worth every mile just for that. It sure was an honour to join them in their work of helping people influenced by diabetes.

Yes I love to dance. Yes I love to speak. And yes, I love to wear sparkly purple dresses! So judge if you will. I personally had a blast doing all of those things. And I make no apologies.
And if you make a request...I can do anyone of those things for you too! Just sayin’ ;)

To privately contact me send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com

Sunday, December 11, 2011

New York, Pink! and My Funny Man

48 hours and 48 minutes. That's precisely how long I was in our car with my husband over a ten day period as we crossed Western Canada together. (Our car has a timer built in.) You can learn a lot about a person in a time like this. Sometimes, you learn things you are really not sure you wanted to know.
Like when for instance, he mentioned - in front of witnesses-  that as a child his teacher used to staple notes for his mom to his shirt everyday so she would actually get them. Now, this causes me wonder. Not only due to the fact that she used staples, but it poses the question as to why she needed to. When I was young and my teacher sent home the occasional note, it went in my lunch box. Would he have eaten them if she had done the same? Could he not figure out himself, even as a six or seven year old how to remove them from sight before he got home? And what did she have to say to his mom every. day.? Perhaps a parent-teacher conference was in order? Just sayin'.
But we had a great time. Not one fight. Sure, he did want to change the subject fairly quickly when I started hammering him with questions about his funeral wishes and such. (Even I run out of things to talk about after that many hours ;) And no, I'm not trying to rush the process. Just want to be prepared.) Suspiciously the stand up comedy channel was dialled in at the first possible gap in the conversation.
We not only discussed death, but our hopes and dreams as well. My husband asked me to prioritize these three things: Meeting someone famous (my choice of who), going to a concert where a big name is singing one of my songs, or going to New York City. My answer was this:
Hearing Pink! sing one of my songs at a concert in New York City. Not bad eh? I told him I would settle for just Pink in New York if he could please make that happen. ;) In fact, any one of the possible combinations of two of those three would be just fine.
I have to say...even with him incessantly telling me to do my blood sugar (Go back to work please, honey! ;), I loved spending so much time with him. (It helped that he took me shopping ;) He is an amazing, amazing man. And a funny man. Take that however you will.  I would choose him over New York or Pink! any day. Hands down. (Sorry Pink!)
So stay tuned for more on the Amazing Schwartz Adventure! (I hear a movie title in there somewhere...) I don't think I am done with this topic just quite yet...