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As I was getting ready for church yesterday, I realized that I had something up every day this week except Wednesday.

Then I checked my email, and found out I’m up for bringing the youth supper this week, making  it every day including Wednesday.

Some of it’s fun- tomorrow’s lunch date and Saturday’s Valentine Tea, for instance,

And some of it’s more like work.

I can’t remember the last time I had such a busy week.

I think I’ll try to get to bed abnormally (for me) early tonight, as I have half a mind to bake up some heart shaped chocolate chip cookies in the morning.

If I got something like that done, I could put together a couple of care packages that could be mailed at lunchtime.

But we’ll see how energetic I am.

I can always bake on Wednesday and mail out the love on Thursday evening when I go into town for the clay class.

Bed actually sounds pretty good…

I think I’ll start heading that way.

I passed the pre-op physical this afternoon.

The form should have been received by the hospital administration by now,

And the countdown can begin.

Well… it could begin if I had a surgery date.

As it is, I can consider myself in the system and waiting.

I hope it doesn’t take too long.

Nerves, you know.

I’ll be relieved, I think, when it’s all over.

In more ways than one.

I made it to Clay Class tonight.

This morning when I looked out and saw the snow I decided that if it snowed all day I would maybe give it a miss this week. The half hour drive in the dark on snowy, narrow highways wasn’t conducive to much excitement.

By the time the snow stopped around noon, I was almost disappointed, having steeled myself to miss the class, and having begun to look forward to doing something with Micah while Randall was at his meeting.

But go I did, in the end,  and it was all good.

Tonight the instructor showed us “Sgraffito“, using soft red clay on the white we’re working with.  She kind of showed us sgraffito and “inverted” sgraffito.  You can smear the contrasting clay on the surface of your piece and then scratch through it for a design to show.  The “inverted” method would involve scratching a design into your piece and then pressing the contrasting clay into the etched design. You scrape the excess contrast clay off, leaving the  clay filled design.

This week, well, yesterday to be honest, I got busy in the garage and made a pretty decent pinch pot and a small molded triangular plate. Tonight I finished cleaning/tooling them, and then I carved a Chinese motif flower on the plate.

I was working on the flower when she showed us the Sgraffito techniques, so I decided to try the “inverted” method on my plate. It worked pretty well.

It was very relaxing to be carving again.

I’ve missed it.

This week I’ll do some carving on the nearly finished pinch pot and start working on next week’s class project.

It’s good to hang out with potty people again!

I have the laundry well on it’s way, and as Micah’s been packed off to school and Randall’s in town,

And as there’s still an hour or so before lunch time…

I think I might just go dig out my pottery table.

It’s in the garage, and I suggested that I’d like to move it  under the window, but that will be a very labour intensive undertaking necessitating the moving of several other desks and bookshelves,

So I may, in the absence of men and boys,

Just move the few boxes that are on the top of it and so gain access to that long neglected canvas covered surface.

Or at least clear enough space to wedge a mound of clay.

I chose to bring my half box of new clay home at the end of last week’s class at the Curling and Craft Center. It’s not a pottery studio the way the basement of the Art Centre in Prince Albert is a pottery studio; a couple of canvas covered tables, a couple of shelves to hold projects and a limited amount of tools…

But they have kilns, and if I have a sturdy pottery table in my garage and a plethora of good pottery tools, I lack that essential element.

I think I should have something to show for my week when I go back tomorrow night, so I shouldn’t put it off any longer.

Right then.

To the garage!

(And the title? Has nothing, really, to do with anything. It was just the first thing that popped into my head… and is still rippling through in an annoying, albeit melodious, way.)

We had a good second meeting with the surgeon yesterday afternoon. The release form has been signed, the pre-op history appointment has been made, and as soon as next Monday afternoon I could be in the rotation for a hysterectomy.

There.

It’s out there.

This will, seemingly, fix my “two steps forward, one step back”  struggle with anaemia. Enough, after all, is enough, and over a year of low iron, fatigue and borderline depression is taking a toll.

I found it interesting, though, that after all my “talk” and “wishful thinking” to this end, I was a little discomfited by the reality of the surgery.

I’ve concluded that facing the prospect of a hysterectomy means facing my mortality again.

If I hadn’t had that brush with it that resulted in a partial thyroidectomy nearly 2 years ago, I’d say this is probably the first time I’m having to consider that I won’t live forever. In this bodily form, at least.

I think the thing with “ending it all”, futuristically, maternally speaking, is that although I KNOW that having a baby at 47 years old would be unwelcome madness in the extreme, it is making me face the fact of my age.

This procedure can finally be done because I have reached an age of maturity that deems childbearing complete.

Once one comes to terms with that finality, the next step is to realize that it’s all downhill from here.

I’ll be 47 this year… next year I’ll be 48… you see where this is going?

My hope is that the 6-8 week waiting period (no pun intended) will be significantly shortened by a cancellation, and that I’ll be in and out in no time at all.

But my internal monologue has been interesting to me. I will be very glad when it’s done. I’ll be very glad to catch up on my iron and energy.

I’ll be very glad if I can slide gracefully into mature middle age.

Without feeling as Old as the cessation of “all things womanly” might cause one to feel.

(Short for “Disney Movie Club”), is the way to spell Frustration.

I joined up a year ago to replace, with DVDs,  the VHS movies I gave away when we moved.

It’s been clear sailing, for the most part, until a month ago.

All of a sudden I’m getting communications to the effect that my account is overdue, which is in itself a strange turn of events as the whole “setting up of the credit card for automatic payment when your order is shipped” thing was intended to prevent that.

I’m getting seriously peeved.

All the invoices show a “prepaid amount” to correspond with the amount owing, leaving a “Total Now Due” of zero.

All but the last invoice, which all of a sudden has a “previous balance” other than zero. It follows a zero balance due invoice, so something has gone screwy somewhere.

On the DMC website I’ve been having “You have an outstanding balance” notices in flashing red neon, which I’ve investigated, and which have only indicated what seem to be minimal late fees (also unexplained) which I have given them the benefit of the doubt over and have paid.

Then I got a “Membership Suspension Notice” telling me that they still haven’t received payment  for a recent order, and that they won’t approve any additional orders because my account is seriously past due.

Of options they gave many: send a cheque, go to the website, click on “my account” and pay with the credit card there, phone them at the 1-800 number to use the credit card or fill in the “above form” with the applicable credit card information and send that through the mail.

I’ve been on the website, and it says I have an outstanding balance of $5- ($25 less than the nasty letter claims I owe them). I changed the “5″ to the applicable number, and got flashy red warnings that I’d entered an invalid amount.

Fail.

I spent 20 minutes phoning, but I was unable to get past the computer generated answering machine. I could get as far as entering my member number, but couldn’t get past entering my postal code for verification. If you’re using a telephone key pad, how else do you “enter your postal code”, which has numbers and letters, if you don’t use the numbers and the numbers that correspond with the letters?! NO number to press to speak to a person. Just an option to go back to the main menu, which sends me round and round in circles.

Fail.

ARRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

It’s really ticking me off, which is not a good thing, because I have a sinus headache again, and it feels like my head is going to explode.

So I’m left with, in their minds, an outstanding balance that I am unable to find an explanation for, and am unable to pay.

I think I’m going to go back to bed.

I’d write them a frustrated letter, but I couldn’t locate the “contact us” button on the website.

I just came in from unpacking my pottery tools in the garage.

I’m not sure what I should be expecting from the “Clay Class”, but at the very least I’m hoping for an introduction to the Wetaskiwin Pottery People.

I’ll buy half a box of clay tonight when I go for the class, by way of re-beginning.  As in Prince Albert, the price of the clay is calculated to include glazes and firing. The lady I talked to thought they’d be able to come up with some kind of formula to allow me to fire clay not purchased there, so after this 8 week class is over I hope there will be opportunity to continue mucking about and so use up some of the clay I brought with me from Saskatchewan.

Now to vacuum out the plastic box I found in the garage which looks like it might work for transporting projects back and forth,

And wait patiently for the evening!

I had an encouraging appointment yesterday with the new Ob/Gyn Doctor at the hospital.

Which reminds me that I’m supposed to make an appointment for next week, by which time he’ll have found last week’s ultrasound report and received yesterday’s blood test results.

Day 2 of Grass Widowhood looms large. The house is quiet at the moment because Micah’s in town writing his last first semester final. Tomorrow I expect it will be quiet at this time because Micah will not have risen yet to meet the day.

No matter.

Quiet is good.

It’s been a disappointing week of “holiday” in certain ways.

Randall is in Denver for the Covenant Conference’s Mid-Winter convention.

This usually means that I can send Micah to school and have an 8.5 hour stretch of time just  for me. It’s a bit selfish, but it only happens once or twice a year that I have a 3 – 4 day break from the norm.

This week’s not panned out quite like that. It’s been, and will continue to be, very busy- mostly gearing up to MOPS on Thursday morning. Added to that, Micah has been having final exams/semester break since last Thursday so he’s been around to cramp my style.

The jewel in all the rush is the clay class that I’ve signed up for. Randall saw the notice at Sobeys when we were there on the weekend, so I pulled one of the name & number fringes off the bottom of the paper and made the call.

Class starts Thursday night and runs for 8 weeks. It will be good to get back into the workshop. I might even be motivated to have a go at that corner of the garage and get my pottery table uncovered. At the very least I have to get in there before Thursday night to find the box that stores my tools. I’m quite excited about it. Especially since it’s a hand building class; I did better at my second wheel class in Prince Albert, but I’m still more confident at hand building and carving.

Ah, yes.

I need to get on with my day; Micah could be home any time, and there were a few things I wanted to get done before he gets back.

Onward and upward!

Although the jingle resonates around in my brain long after the commercial is over,

And although I agree that “when it’s real you know it’s real”,

I can’t help thinking that I’d almost prefer to know that the patties they’re frying/grilling/charbroiling up were frozen for transport as soon as they were formed.

How is it possible to take a cow to the packing plant, turn it into ground beef, ship it to wherever they make Wendy’s burgers and then off to restaurants all over the country, and be certain that the patties will have no bad bacteria unless you freeze them?  Even if all the meat patties for all the fast food joints in the district are freshly made at the meat packing facility… could you guarantee purity of the product if  your meat patties are “fresh, never frozen”?

I don’t know…

I don’t like fingerprints on my Ipod touch. Randall suggested a plastic cover, but I don’t like the feel of that on my fingers. I’m dealing with the fingerprints.

The library table has been shrunk back to size and returned to the bay window. It’s been replaced by a round, white table from Ikea.

There’s that Sidekicks commercial with the salt shaker… but  for the longest time, I knew neither that it was a salt shaker, nor why it was so sad.  The “S” on the front of it made me think of Skittles. Then I thought it had something to do with the Sidekicks. When I finally realized that the “S” was for “Salt” the commercial almost made sense… except that the salt shaker should be hanging around. If they’ve taken the salt out of the Sidekicks, the salt shaker might be needed- more than it was before…

Still on commercials… I love that people are so stupid that they have to put a “Dramatization: do not attempt” disclaimer on the deodorant-and-the-little-black-dress commercial. You know the one. Where the woman jumps headfirst out her window to dive into her dress so that she doesn’t get any deodorant markings on it. Where she lands headfirst in the shrubberies, then stands up, shakes herself off, catches her purse and goes merrily on her way. “Do not attempt” indeed…

I absolutely never buy Charmin toilet paper. Mostly because of the paper-on-the-bear-butt commercials.

I avoid watching or listening to the news. Haiti is just too depressing. I pray, as I pray for the Congo and others in crisis, but I can’t watch the pictures. The visual images are paralyzing and too heartbreaking. Not an ostrich, exactly; just filtering.

I’m ready for winter to be done.  The spring-like weather isn’t helping, especially when I know that there are a few more months of potential winter temperatures to come.

When I sleep in and don’t eat breakfast until lunchtime I am a disaster waiting to happen. I tried that on Saturday and ended up lighting myself on fire. (The pilot light on the stove was out, and the long match that I used to relight it broke in half right after I struck it on the end of the box. The lit half went south, into my sweater, burning a hole through it and giving me a blister on my stomach.)

There will be a bruise on my left elbow tomorrow, where I whacked it on the shelf in the closet this morning. I am writing that here, so that tomorrow when I think, “Ow! That hurts! What did I do to it?!” I will read this and remember that I whacked it on the shelf in the closet.

I may make it a practice to record more of my klutzy doings here so that I have fewer incidents of  forgotten mishaps. I need a place to keep track of what I’ve whacked and where,  so that the ensuing bumps and bruises are explained.