LI: Ingredients

Didn't I used to be so productive on Saturday mornings?

Nevermind that "productive" is such a toxic word, let's allow that it's something I want to be sometimes. Getting a dog changed that, and getting a second dog all but eradicated it. And I love Hank (and Bastian) and the love I feel for and from them is satisfying in its own way. But I do lament the end of the days when my weekend mornings consisted of getting up, getting coffee made, and plopping right down at the computer from 9 to noon. Instead, it's up, two walks, coffee and rest, feed, more rest and scrolling, and then if there's time I get to what I'm doing for maybe an hour. Then again, I was supposed to be a parent by now, so it would have ended up like this anyway.

But I have my weeks. Oh, they're not perfect. I do get a fair amount done, at the expense of other things. But then I'm also always running around. It's a weird balance. Life and Scottness.

Cleaning needs to be done. I am actively afraid of what's going on in my vegetable crisper right now, but I can't seem to man up and face it.

I'm coming to terms with a compromise that may need to be made to get back to contributing to the household. My thinking is that some structure and responsibility and earning power will focus me. I'll get away from faffing about looking for a quick fix and focus on long-term goals. I've been looking at some of my "real" writing lately, and regrettably, a lot of it seems good to me. I know it's hard to make other people -- that is, the people whose job it is to gatekeep these opportunities -- see what you see in your own writing. But annoyingly, I believe in myself. To some degree.

The week has breezed by. Last weekend, we went to the Toronto tempo game, which was a fun outing. A nice afternoon at Coca-Cola Coliseum, spending $30 on concessions, getting a free t-shirt. Good vibes even though the team lost. The New York Liberty were sinking a ton of 3's (I said this somewhat passively to Mel and the woman in the row in front of us turned around to agree.) Back at home, we had Bastian in the wire crate, with a camera on him. He did not seem to be having a good time. Ever since he had his tummy troubles he started hating being crated even more, which our foster contact suggested was because there was an association between the crate and suffering. 

We also spent some of the weekend making Bastian's snuffle mat out of an old Canadiens blanket we got from Value Village. Mel was enjoying it so much she wondered if we could make more and sell them. Obviously not as a job but to make some garage sale-level money. I'm not opposed to it, but we had a hard enough time finding one blanket that suited our needs.

There seemed to be a lot going on this week. Mel went into the office on Tuesday; I spent Monday night rigging up a lunch for her to take in, taco bowl. Wednesday, she was too overworked to join our workout, which she was pretty despondent about. Thursday, we took the dogs to their first ever training session, ostensibly to get them to make peace with each other ( which is kind of happening naturally) but also to work on place and sit. Mel is good at getting Bastian to sit, but I haven't had much luck. Hank of course is a pro. The trainer suggested we feed Bastian in the crate to build up positive associations. So that's been good.

She was so worn out by the outing Thursday night, and by a noteworthy acid episode overnight, that we ended up skipping out on a planned dinner with the girls (and Jermaine) Friday evening. It would have been kind of stressful to get out there, but we were planning to make it work, and indeed Mel did get off work in good time that day. in lieu of a dinner out, I got us prime rib dinner from Fortinos, and we watched the cheesy Willy Wonka game show on Netflix.

That about covers it. I don't think there is time to do anything meaningful with the rest of my morning so I'll probably just putter a bit and play games while we try to figure out what we want to do for breakfast. 

I'm trying not to be too nostalgic lately. I feel bad about how much of my mindspace is not in the present. I could do better and be better.

Could be a good day. Crisp fall weather, sun is shining. I know Mel wants to get things done. Who knows.

Keep on rockin

-Scotto

L: A Memory You Told Me

This post comes to you from the couch at night. I'm kind of chilling a bit before I join Mel in bed. We are trying to get Basti comfortable spending time in the wire crate for when we are away -- tomorrow we're going to a Toronto Tempo game -- so I wanted to sit up with him a whole to make sure he can get acclimated. Looks like there isn't an issue. He seems relatively relaxed.

Anyway, being that I'm writing this on my phone, don't mind any typos or weird autocorrect things.

I was thinking today, for whatever stupid reason, about whatever went down with Josh in Grade 12. I don't dwell on stuff like that, but if I ever wrote a book about the my high school years (Teenage Millennial Psycho Nerd) it would be in there as a major point. My conclusion was of course that we left things on good terms in 2013 when he came to my place to hand over some books of mine he'd borrowed and misplaced (Bone comics) and I bear him no ill will, but I wondered whether I had actually said much about my position on things. Why and how it hurt. I remember certain parts of the substance of the conversation, him kind of explaining his behavior and me kind of accepting it. Again, I do not hold a grudge. On the off chance he messaged me tomorrow to go for a beer, I'd go. But he's got better things to do, I'm sure. No grudge is held, the wound is healed, the scar will just always be there. And that's a function of how forcefully our friendship ended, intentionally or not. It ended and I moved on to be friends with other people and life went on and neither of us had the cause or opportunity to ever rebuild it beyond a long delayed fence-mending. 

Maybe there's a slight lack of satisfaction on my part for how that last conversation went, but that's my cross to bear if I didn't speak up. As I always told Mel, closure doesn't really exist. Some things will gnaw at you until the end.

But it's 98% a dead issue. 

My remembrance of all that led me to the previous time to that that I'd seen Josh, when we were already in a state of coexistence. He came and saw the Half-Past play in 2009, four years prior. I don't remember much about what was said then but unlike the 2013 convo it was captured here and it seems to have been reasonably cordial. Apparently I already knew he had the Bone books at that time. Well, I always knew, and he admitted it then.

Of all the moments to go back to, I rarely pick that one, perhaps because my memory of that weekend is so vivid. And because I know what I wrote then was only part of the story. At some point in that recounting of events, I mention that Kat the stage manager "kept me company." I can now confirm -- as a happily married man approaching 40 -- of course that means we made out. I kissed roughly one girl every year from the time I was 17 until I met Mel, and she was 2009. Not only that, but we got pretty far too, until someone walked in on us and she decided to call it.

Re-reading that post, she had a cutting little line I had forgotten about, "What are you, looking for fall in love tonight?" Jesus, hadn't she just spent several months watching my play? I always was and wasn't. I was obsessed with love but knew I was incapable of understanding, giving or receiving it. This is true because the first year or so of my relationship with Mel was built on me trying to learn that. So I yearned, knowing better than to expect it, and the best I could hope for was some illicit drunken smooches (and a few well placed digits). After I gave my answer to that, whatever it was, she asked if I wanted to make out. I said yes (knowing better than to openly try to be romantic) and off we went. I always liked that, because Cary had warned her and assistant director Erika about my tendancy to make out with girls at his parties, meaning she deliberately sought out my services. Flattering.

Seems a bit silly to dwell on it now. I promise you, despite mountains of evidence to the contrary, I don't actually live in the past. I just like to visit it sometimes.

I should kiss my wife. Well, she's in bed. 

I also read a post from 2022 about how happy I generally was, cof what it's worth.

Anyway, I should get my head back to this decade and go relax. Bastian seems at peace in his crate. Hope it can last.

Today was a fine day. Late breakfast, watched reality TV while eating Pur & Simple Benedict's, then we worked on making Bastian's own snuffle mat, which has been on the docket since we acquired an appropriate blanket at Value Village a few weeks ago. It was nice! A good Saturday. 

I applied for some jobs I won't get. One job I didn't apply for listed under Benefit (singular) "On-site parking." Wow, don't everyone apply at once. Another listed as remote but put under requirements "Available to work in office 5 days per week." I reported it for inaccuracy.

That will be it for tonight. We have peace in the valley. May it last.

Keep on rockin'

Scotto

IL: Blink and you'll catch it

Oh! Ghost days.

This is a term I came up with for days that just seem to disappear doing nothing. I will admit that they seem more common now. I grab my phone and I just look at Facebook for a while and then I stop, then I pick it back up in case anything interesting has happened, like with this Macklemore/Ed Sheeran thing, and then I put it back down, then I pick it back up and then... well, it's almost 5. 

I feel like an idiot when it comes to time budgeting. I could have such full days. I see myself as only having about 2 really productive(? if this is important?) hours per day, at best. Then there are dog walks and lunch breaks and errands to run. But I remind myself that running errands is technically productive.

My problem seems to be in finding motivation and energy to do things that I like to do during a day. Writing, blogging. And things that I really should do like PD and job searching and cleaning. And almost none of it gets down. I had been developing this policy. Every day, do something for the dogs, for myself, for us, and for the house. It's a nice idea but tricky in practice. What I do know is that something really nasty is going on in my vegetable crisper that I need to clean out.

Today even got off to an early start; Mel went in to the office today, so we were up and at em, and out the door around 7. I came back and fed the dogs and waited a bit to walk them, doing whatever I do in the morning in the meantime. After walks, I did a bit of image sourcing for my blog, showered, and got back to wasting the days.

Bastian has had a few issues lately. As you know, he was throwing up last week, but we got him relatively settled. When we put him back on kibble, he became more regular, then for good measure the vet gave him some gastrointestinal meds and food, which I had to drive out to get on Monday. He also seems to have developed an aversion to sleeping in his crate. He was keeping us up all night with barking, and when he would be in there he would pant profusely, but be at peace when he was out, so we let him sleep out of it. We let the woman who runs the foster service know, afraid we had broken the rules, but she understood and encouraged us to do what we needed to to get him feeling better. So he's been sleeping in our room lately, happy as a clam.

And with that, you know, I think I can say we've pretty much decided to keep him. And by that I mean, I've stopped dragging my feet on what seemed to be the likely outcome from the beginning. Obviously I've had my concerns, and they haven't gone away. But I know that if we were to adopt him out, Mel would feel sad, and then we'd get another foster dog, and then we'd have a hard time parting with that one too, and the process would continue on and on. So why not just end it now? I feel Mel understands -- I certainly hope -- that this is it, that 2 dogs is our limit and we can't keep filling the house up with dogs. So if she sees sad foster stories in the future, she's going to understand that there isn't anything we can do. I told her that we can't have more dogs than adults in the house. (I initially said people, but then corrected myself when I realized we're still trying to have a baby. The baby can't walk a dog!!)

I just told her that last night on our way to Nonna's. We went to see her because Mel's parents have been away on vacation, so it was nice to pay her a visit, bring some food, play some cards, watch a bit of Dancing with the Stars. 

I've been on a particular kind of music kick lately. I made playlists of all the songs that made the MuchMusic Countdown top 10 in 1999, 2000 and 2001 (actually, June-June of each year, for whatever reason.) It's interesting to kind of go back over the top hits that were sharing air space at the same time, since in memory it all gets jumbled up. And to find those ones that didn't endure so much, especially the CanCon. Remember Choclair? He was all over that.

So I don't really have much more to say. I think I'm going to walk Basti, then either get back to blogging or maybe even clean the kitchen

Keep on rockin

-Scotto

XXXIX: The Business / Follow-through and Follow-up

Were you ever aware of the good times when they were happening?

In my mental rolodex of times in my life, I was thinking about late Grade 12. The distance of decades has made it seem like a golden era of sorts, but at the time I had as much turmoil as any, much of which is recorded for posterity in this blog. I'm not saying I'm nostalgic for that. Maybe the opposite. Maybe it's good to have a reminder that even the better times in your life had some clouds. I did admit, in one post, that while I was pretty negative I did have "a lot going for me" certainly compared to other years. Jeez, just be glad I didn't start this operation in Grade 10.

I'm a little sad sometimes because as confessional as this blog can be, it's not unfiltered. It's a public forum -- just one with no audience -- so it still gets filtered. Triply so back then when I knew people were checking in. So it behooved me to be coy. So if there was something (or someone) I was really into, I had to downplay it. Which makes it hard to trace the map of my feelings back all these years later. But hey, it's better than nothing.

To answer the question at the top of the blog, yes. I vividly recall many times throughout 2022 and 2023 when I was aware this was potentially as good as it was going to get for me. I was sitting in my house, taking a nice long breakfast -- oh, those Dempster's Cheese Bagels, how I yearn -- and my coffee, doing Wordle before booting up my computer to start my day anytime between 9 and 9:30. Do not think for one second it was lost of me that I had it made. I appreciated the fuck out of that, and consciously thought often about how idyllic my life was in that era. And I always rue how it was taken from me, but that doesn't mean it wasn't beautiful while it lasted, and I knew it. I even wrote about it on tumblr of all places.

And I'm saying all of this because I'm having one of those moments right now. It's been a slow, lazy Sunday, the kind that starts late and is over before you know it. Mel and I didn't even have breakfast (salmon bagels) until about 2 (after I went out and procured some coffee drinks from Williamses) and we sat around watching bad reality TV on Netflix for a few hours before she had to go do some mandatory professional development. In actual fact, I got up relatively early because one of the dogs -- won't say who -- has gotten pretty demanding in the A.M. So 8-10 was spoken for, but I was then able to define most of my day. And the reason why this is so idyllic because someday this may not be the case. I mean, it may not be as free as it was when we had no dogs at all, but someday we'll have kids, and every bit of our lives will be for them. and that'll be great, but it won't be this. I liked today. It wasn't perfect, but it was ours.

Yesterday was chaotic. Actually it was several days worth of chaos. We had gotten the invite to go to the trailer to see Lori, Gail and Karen. Bastian had had tummy troubles off and on during the week. Brandon had to bow out due to Chase falling ill. Ali couldn't make it because of a plane ticket mishap. The whole thing seemed like it might fall apart. At the eleventh hour, the trottage had a plumbing issue that threatened the whole thing, we didn't even know if it was on until the following morning. Once we had it confirmed, we scrambled. We had to go to Oakville to drop the dogs with my dad and Deb, then pick up my mom where she was waiting around the corner. It was a long drive and my mom regaled us with tales of her problematic friend, as well as her work which is always dramatic. We sure got a lot of her over the course of the day. It felt like the drive took longer than usual, leaving Oakville around 12:15 and getting to Spring Valley a little after 2.

Well. We had a good day though, sitting out in the sun and talking to the aunts and Cam. It was nice to catch everyone up on what was going on and to hear from them about their own lives. We played some cornhole. I didn't have much to say for myself, more "couple" stuff. We ate after 5, had a quick dessert, then hit the road. We took the usual way home, even though it was getting dark. It's a lot more serene than the other way. We dropped mom off at her door around 8:45 (Mel went in to use the restroom) then doubled back to dad's to pick up the boys. By the time we got home, we were just wiped out, we crashed. But Bastian wasn't letting us rest.

Sigh.

Anyway, these are days. I could probably tell you more, but that about sums it up.

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto

XXXVIII: Ha ha ha / Breadth requirement

 It's 10:45 AM on a Sunday. I've already been up for several hours. Bastian woke us up with a little bark sometime after 6 and Mel -- consciously or otherwise -- nudged me. I hope this is not going to become a habit.

In fairness, Bastian had spent a lot of the last three days in his crate and he can't have enjoyed it. Thursday, Mel and I met her mom at the Ex for our once-every-few-years outing. We had teed this up during out semi-impromptu visit the week before. Mel went into her office, which involved getting up extremely early so she could be seated in time for her 8:30 call. I think she ended up getting the 6:55 train which was even earlier than the one we were aiming for. I can't deny she's gotten a lot better at mornings but that doesn't mean she's become a fan. I barely got any sleep because I was up til midnight the night before teeing up her lunch and trying to find her headphones (they had fallen under the couch.)

I was fairly useless for the day. My brain was soupy. It was like being back at work. The hours simply ticked down until it was time to go meet her, which ended up being a struggle because both dogs needed to be walked, and then when I got to the train station I realized I hadn't brought Mel's pill that she takes at 9 (the particulars of Mel's medications will be an ongoing theme of this post, I hope it doesn't violate her personal info.) She alerted me to this; I had also meant to make a note of it, but had forgotten it in the mishegas. So back I went, and I managed to make it back to the train station in time for the 4:55, which was an express to Exhibition after Oakville. Sweet.

Of course, I needn't have rushed. Mel was pretty late getting away from work, not arriving at the Ex until after 6, by which time we'd told her mom to go ahead and see the dog show. We had hoped to get a locker, but I won't count on that ever again -- there were maybe a dozen lockers by the entryway. There should be hundreds. Obviously they were all taken. Womp womp. So we ended up carrying Mel's bag (and the one I'd brought) all night.

We'd had a huge storm the day before and it looked like it might rain while we were out so I had my own bag with umbrellas too. It hasn't instantly become cool as of September 1 like it normally does (I am hesitant to ever say anything about the weather, because we all know what's going on.) It was a nice mild night, shorts and t-shirt were appropriate, although Mel was stuck in her work pants.

Mel was already pretty sour about the experience. We waited for her mom to get out of the show and get something to eat at the food trucks. At one point Mel was dubious we were going the right way, but I scouted ahead; the food trucks were where they usually are, by the Prince's Gates. We ended up getting a shredded beef grilled cheese, and Mama H got a beef butter tart (??) then I was sent in search of a classic poutine.

After that, the mood improved a bit. We went to the Midway stage and saw a band called Gravely, which was doing some covers, including stuff like Franz Ferdinand and Young the Giant, but also older stuff like Buffalo Springfield and Bowie (Suffragette City, which Mel rocked out to more than I would have figured) along with a few originals before closing with 500 Miles, always a good way to get the crowd on your side. Mama H and I split a beer and Mel had an underwhelming Key Lime slushie. 

We wandered a bit more in search of games, or perhaps the other stage, but eventually we realized it was getting late and we were tired and sore, so we just made our way to the train, and got it pretty much right on time, good seats too (despite the admonishment to move down the platform.)

Friday, Mel had taken as her personal day, on a delayed schedule since she had to book it in August and kind of fake it (real nice, you've hired hundreds of people and neglected to tell them they have three weeks to take a personal day.) We went for breakfast at Williams, then the plan was to do some running around at the mall before getting her nails done. Again I had to be sent back for pills. She's taking this new one that she's meant to have with food, so she takes it with breakfast. So I brought it back and she took it, but I guess it was too late because on the ride over to the mall she started feeling not so good. We ended up just sitting in the car (I went to get some New York Fries for us) until it was time for her appointment at 3:45. Then I just kind of sat at the mall reading. I had thought about bringing the computer and doing writing, but said nah.

We got home and made this Instagram dish that Mama H had made recently, sheet pan gnocchi and sausage. Except Mel didn't want the gnocchi because we had potatoes for lunch, so we did tortellini. I was underwhelmed by the result. Mel was too, but for different reasons. She was feeling good for a bit after getting home nad napping, but ended up feeling not great by the end of the night.

Saturday, we went out to see Laura, Ryan and the baby. We were meant to come for 2, but it was hard getting our shit together so we left close to 1:30, and with traffic didn't make it until close to 3. The visit was nice though. We went to pick up some Greek food (well, I did, that was my contribution) which was good, although they served garlic bread instead of pita. They had Brooklyn 9-9 playing on the tv.

The drive home was terrible, as usual, not helped by the setting sun blasting in my eyes. Things got jammed up after the skyway so we said fuggit and got off at North Shore. It's not actually a bad way to go, once you make it to Maple. We went for ice cream at Baskin Robbins, then went home and cuddled the doggies. Again Mel wasn't feeling great by the end of the day though, so I tucked her in and spent a little more time with the boyz.

So there you go. It's been a very full few days and we still have 2 days of long weekend left. I'm hoping today will be quite chill, although I know Mel was eyeing some P.D. time, and we talked about me regaining my focus in that area (guilty as charged.) After walking one dog, resting a while, walking the other dog and feeding him -- Basti was sick on his blanket so he's fasting today -- I made some coffee and a little bagel breakfast. I think Mel's going to want a nice breakfast of P&S, which is fine, I just won't get the benedict.

So it goes

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto

XXXVII: Down and Out in Dreamland

I woke up from a light sleep and punched the above phrase into my phone. I often walk around with a post title on the tip of my brain, but rarely do I enforce it in this way. But the mind, when half-awake, plays by different rules. I wasn't sure when I would get around to writing a post under it, but it turned out to be now.

I went back to sleep and had a really upsetting dream. I was up for a job, but the process was more like an NFL combine, where I had to demonstrate all sorts of skills, and of course I was inadequate. But the worst came when I was trying to serve somebody(?) and I was wiping down their table with a cloth that had a bloodstain on it(??) and when they asked about it I made some off-color joke that they objected to. I was called over to the manager and told I had failed out of the process. It then turned out that the job in question was -- as it often seems to be in my dreams -- my old HMV job. I ran around trying to get back in the running, including trying to will it into having been a dream-within-a-dream, but to no avail.

This played with a lot of my insecurities regarding my ability to get a job, of course. That I've fallen so far that I would no longer qualify for a job I did over a decade ago. And of course there's nostalgia for that era that's on my mind from time to time, and I had even thought earlier that evening about how my recurring HMV dreams have been largely replaced with dreams about my more recent office job. So I guess I summoned it.

I woke up and it was 5 AM and I went back to sleep and had a different dream.

Yesterday was a good day. We got "up and at it" really early for us on a Saturday, heading out for breakfast before 10, followed by some errands at Value Village and Staples, where we had to drop off an Amazon return, pick up an order, and buy ink along with other sundries. After that, we had some admin stuff to do with Mel's new job. As we were finishing that, we got a random invite over to Mel's parents', because they wanted to meet Bastian. Hey, why not! It was the first time both dogs had shared space in the car together and they mostly behaved, although Bastian was crowding Hank a bit.

We brought some peaches that had been kicking around our fridge all week, because we can't be trusted to eat them on our own. They were still very good, thankfully. We sat out in the backyard for a while, then ordered some Chinese for dinner. Afterward, we played cards. Mel actually wanted to be on my team for Oki, and we came back in the later hands to win. 

We got home late, so Mel went right into bed, and I thought about staying up but after walking Bastian I decided to try my luck with sleep and ended up doing so, which is where we began this post I suppose.

That's about it -- I guess this wasn't going to be a long post. There are big things under the surface but nothing's emerged yet.

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto

XXXVI: On Air

Tossing and turning. I am up here at 2 am writing this to you on my phone quite against my will. I am not entirely sure why, but I have a theory. Earlier today, Mel had asked for some iced coffee and suggested I get it from Fortinos, which I have rarely ever done. I was so throw I forgot to ask for decaf. So I went back and got her a fresh one, but kept mine, and her other one, meaning I technically had three full caffeine coffees for the day. Even though it was relatively early, that could do it. I was also feeling some allergies, so I have taken a pill and am waiting for that to kick in.

A strange sequence of events whose truth I might never know has Mel in the guest room tonight. She simply got up and said she had to write some things (a therapeutic act for her, and hey I guess me too!) and for whatever reason, she decided she would just go there and stay there. She didn't indicate that it was anything to do with me, but she didn't say much either way. And without her I feel a bit glum and not at ease, compounding my issue.

Hmp.

It has been good times though. This weekend we went to see Joe play at the Sauga artisan fest on Port Credit, which wasn't much of a fest. We didn't even really browse the booths. We spent most of the time trying to find an available bathroom. Then we got some ice cream, which was great until Mel realized she has gotten some drops on her top.

We watched Joe play under the gazebo as dark clouds rolled in and lightning crackled in the distant sky, debating whether we should bail and either get our planned dinner or just go home. Eventually everyone was huddled under the gazebo behind him, which made for an amusing set. As he got to his last song, "Bottom of the Barrel," the downpour started. Eventually, clutching our one umbrella, we trekked back to the train station, soaking wet. We got home, toweled off and made comfort nachos.

The next day we spent cleaning the bedroom, putting away laundry, that sort of thing, while listening to my 90s Sun and Clouds mix. It was nice.

Lately I feel like I'm getting more adept at balancing my personal stuff with household stuff. It may seem elementary, but my philosophy is currently to aim to do Something For Me, Something for Us, Something for the House, and Something for the Dogs if needed, during my day. Again, most people probably don't need to make it a policy, they just do what needs to be done, but I procrastinate and get comfortable with leaving things untouched, so walking around the house going "What can I do here?" Helps kick me into gear.

Beyond that, there isn't much to tell. Simply a life being lived, together.

Hopefully it's as good as it feels 

Keep on rockin'

- Scotto