January 28, 2008
She was tugging something out of the ground, like a weed or a twig. I ran to see what it was and was horrified to find her with some sort of small dead animal in her mouth, like a gopher or mouse, though I couldn't tell for sure. All I knew was that it was gross.
I freaked, grabbed her, made her drop whatever it was, whisked her into the house and refused to talk to her for the rest of the day. I do not deal well with dead things in my pets' mouths.
As for the unidentified dead chew toy, I left it in the yard to deal with later. I wasn't in the mood. Besides, I rationalized, it's a deep freeze out there, so there was no chance of the thing rotting. I would just make sure the pup didn't venture into that corner anymore, and would dispose of it before the snow melted. Problem solved.
It got even colder, more snow fell, and the critter was buried in a bank. Then, yesterday, we had a really nice, warm day. Well, warm by Saskatchewan winter standards anyway. The snow bank melted a bit and the pup took the opportunity to sprint for the corner. Before I knew it, she had the half-thawed dead thing in her mouth again and was happily chewing away.
I ran, picked her up and shook her to try and get her to drop the furry morsel. No dice. I attempted to pry her mouth open without touching the icky dead thing. Nope. She was holding on to that thing for dear life.
I couldn't leave her outside chewing on the critter, there was no way I was going to bring her inside with it in her mouth, and it was even less likely I was going to pull it out with my bare hands.
There was only one solution: I screamed until Superstar interrupted his half hour bathroom ritual to bring me a paper towel with which to pry the critter from her jaws. As I did so, a long string of bloody saliva came out of my dog's mouth. Nice. I scrutinized the dead animal. It wasn't a gopher or an intact creature at all. Rather, it was part of a creature, and I wasn't sure what part or what creature.
Between the two of us, we decided it was probably a rabbit's leg. There are a number frolicking in my neighbourhood, and it makes sense that a large dog could have mangled it and left it for my shi shi frou frou lap dog to find. I tossed it in the dumpster. Case closed.
Then, last night, I noticed something weird in my neighbour's yard. It looked like...deer antlers. I went in for a closer look. There weren't just deer antlers nestled into my neighbour's snow bank. There were two decapitated deer heads attached to those antlers and God knows what other deer parts nearby.
I didn't think this neighbourhood could get any stranger, but this takes the cake. I wanted to take a picture to show you, but I'm afraid that my neighbour would catch me in the act and I'd wake up with a decapitated deer head in my bed.
January 22, 2008
Savia is over at Superstar's house. They're killing a bit of time before their movie date with Palinode and Magnetalasa. Superstar takes this opportunity to show her one of his favourite video games.
Side note: Savia is a bit disturbed to find out that Superstar is actually a guy. She fell for him because he was a sensitive girly artsy type in a big, burly man's body. But as time goes on, she realizes he's far more multifaceted than he originally appeared. First was the 1/2 hour in the bathroom dealie, then the obsession with the Vancouver Canucks, and now, Grand Theft Auto. Fortunately, he still likes to cuddle and ask her what she's thinking, so all is not lost.
Superstar: So, this is my guy.
Savia: Nice blonde afro.
Superstar: Thanks! You can change his hairstyle and his clothes if you want, too.
Savia: We can go shopping in this game? Alright! [Savia proceeds to dress the gangsta in red boxing shoes, pink spandex pants, a green hoodie, a Lone Ranger mask and a leopard print cowboy hat.] Now, he's ready for some action.
[Superstar begins playing the game. Savia watches, horrified.] Savia: This game is horrible. I'd heard it was violent and sexist and racist, but, man, they were underestimating it. This is disgusting and so very wrong on every possible level. I, Saviabella, do not endorse this game in any of its forms. Why on earth are you even playing this?
Superstar: It's just a game.
Savia: But there are people out there whose lives are like this game. They have to deal with this kind of violence on a regular basis, and having a game about it is absolutely disrespectful of what they go through and...
Savia: Is your game controller...vibrating?
Superstar: Yeah, it does that.
Savia: [Pressing herself up against the controller, which vibrates intermittently and unpredictably.] What makes it vibrate?
Superstar: There are certain things...I'm not sure exactly what in the game does it except for when the guy goes to the gym and works out on the bike. [Takes the player to the gym and puts him on the bike.] See?
Savia: [Pressing herself harder against the controller.] Oh my God! [Laughing uncontrollably.] I think I understand why you like this game now. I could definitely get used to this!
And Savia is now addicted to watching Superstar play video games.
January 19, 2008
I found myself an MLD massage therapist who can help with the lymphatic drainage before and after the surgery, which reduces bruising and swelling. I made several pre-op physiotherapy appointments. And last, but not least, I called in a favour to my friend, the Reiki master. Next weekend, she's going to teach me my first level of Reiki, so that I can work on healing myself after the surgery.
January 9, 2008
My jaw has been finicky as of late. In October, I missed a ton of work because of the nasty migraines and muscle spasms I was getting. Stress sure does fire up my mofo jaw from hell. In November/December, I took time off work to decompress, and it's been much better since. But I was starting to feel frustrated. I have been waiting for this surgery for almost two years and it would be nice to just get it over with.
Vanessa's request prompted me to do some investigating - how much longer would I have to wait, really? Here in Saskatchewan, you get placed on a surgical wait list and classified according to whether your case is an emergency, urgent, or elective. Mine is considered elective. While I do live in a world of pain, I am in no risk of dying, and I don't expect to be prioritized over someone with, say, a broken back like my friend Palinode.
I had expected to wait awhile. But they don't tell you your surgery date until about one month in advance, so you have no idea how long you really have to wait. The last time my orthodontist called my surgeon, his office told him that the surgery would be "late fall, early winter."
So, this fall, I stopped auditioning for plays and musicals, I avoided making plans too far in advance and I focused on getting myself healthy in preparation for the surgery. Fall passed. Early winter passed.
I called the surgical wait list hotline to find out what was going on. They told me the wait for my surgeon was an average of 21 months and I had been put on the wait list in July 2006 (though I've had the braces on since that January.) That meant I was actually looking at April for the surgery.
I know it gets pretty cold here and all, but even in Saskatchewan, that's no longer early winter.
I thought my surgeon's office would have a better idea, so I phoned them to get their take on it. Last week, I got a call back saying that his wait time was actually more like 24 months, so the surgery would likely be in June.
Great. I imagined a beautiful summer with all my friends in bikinis at the beach and me trapped inside wearing twelve rolls of gauze wrapped around my face. (Not that any of my friends go to the beach or wear bikinis, because this is flippin' Saskatchewan, but it's the principle of it.)
Then, today I got another message from the surgeon's office. They have a date for my surgery after all: February 12. Of this year. That's a little over a month.
I don't know how to feel. Excited. Freaked out. Elated. Scared.
And then there's the practical stuff. I have to take even more time off work in the near future, book a bunch of physio and acupuncture appointments, mentally prepare myself for the fact that they're going to take a freaking bone saw to my face and not only change my bite, but my whole appearance. My face is going to look different. After the surgery, my jaw will be wired shut and I'll be on a liquid diet for weeks. I won't be able to talk or chew properly. It's going to be a long and difficult recovery.
But in the end, it's all going to be worth it. Wish me luck, Internets.
Or as we say in the biz, break a jaw.
January 8, 2008
I think it's very thoughtfully written. Please take the time to read it, and drop me a comment to let me know what you think.
(Hey Diva, apparently your guest post sparked an "email controversy." Nicely done.)
January 6, 2008
What the heck is it with guys being in the bathroom for half an hour anyway? Nothing I do in there takes me that long, nor would I want it to, save a bath. But for him, it's an experience. An experience he's having with what I'm pretty sure is an over dramatic story of teen angst, though I haven't read it myself in well over a decade.
Anyhow, I'm taking this opportunity to ask you, my knowledgeable and wise readers, a question.
Do you flush food down the toilet?
I've never encountered this practice before, and I must say, it kind of freaks me out. On our first date, Superstar was cleaning up the kitchen after supper (so hot). He handed me a pot full of water and potato skins and asked me to take it to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet. I gave him a strange look like, "Are you serious?" Clearly, he was, so I went and did it, cringing the entire time. On the way there, I ran into his brother-in-law and said to him, "We will never speak of this again."
The thought of it turns my stomach - the idea of food in the bathroom as well as the thought of it floating around in the toilet, regardless of whether it's leftovers or something that's been in the back of the fridge for three months. The thing is, it's going to end up looking like vomit, and I've got a sensitive gag reflex.
I think it's a weird practice. Superstar thinks I'm weird for thinking it's weird. So, I started asking around, trying to get some supporters for my side of the cause. I asked his family. They all do it. Then, I asked Schmutzie and Palinode:
Schmutzie: Oh, yeah, we do that all the time. That way, your garbage doesn't smell.
Superstar: See, Savia? You're the only one who doesn't do it.
So, answer me this: Am I the only one who thinks this is an odd practice? I wanna know the deal, Internets. Do you flush or don't you?
January 1, 2008
Superstar: Oh, come on. 2007 wasn't so bad. Think about all the fearless things you did.
Savia: True. But I'm done with this year. Done, I tells ya. I want to move on. No more Year of Fearlessness. 2008 is going to be the Year of Fun...and Not Sucking.
Superstar: The Year of Fun and Not Sucking?
Savia: ...except for in a good way, of course.
Superstar: Of course.
Savia: But I'm also getting my jaw surgery in 2008, so that may affect the sucking in a good way for awhile. And I've really been concentrating on being healthy in mind, body and spirit and I would like that to be a major focus of this coming year, so maybe it should be the Year of Health and Fun and Not Sucking Except for in a Good Way Unless My Jaw is Wired Shut.
Superstar: [laughing] Sounds good to me.
I'm not going to miss 2007. The year started out as very promising, but the last half of it has kicked me repeatedly and shown no mercy. But, as usual, here I am picking myself off the floor once again, brushing myself off, and feeling hope that next year is the Year of the Savia.
And with that, I give you my recap of 2007:
January: I dealt with some of the aftermath of my recent weight loss, went on the longest first date known to man with Superstar and started a long-distance relationship with him, started my dream job, told my credit card company that I fuck like a girl, and met Madam Diva for the first time at a puppet burlesque show and gave the crowd an impromptu performance.
February: Fell in love with Superstar, celebrated Organic Free Range Emu Day, purchased my first piece of art out from under the nose of a slimy art hoarder, grew up and purchased my own blog domain name, got underwear in the mail from Madam Diva, and gave that musical theatre director a lap dance.
March: Hacked off all my hair, realized that I had manifested Superstar, got hit on by a smarmy old dude.
April: Jumped on a plane to Nova Scotia and went on the longest second date known to man with Superstar, fell even more in love with him, accidentally came out on Facebook, hearted my vagina, became a pescavore, and found out the man who molested me when I was four lives in the city, has kids, and knows people I do.
May: Thought of ways to scare away the hookers from HoodLite, experienced the tip of the iceberg of this year's stress levels, introduced my dog to the lucrative world of Internet porn, got involved in a requited crush with Neil's blog.
June: My Grade One boyfriend found me on Facebook, Superstar told his mom that he'd eat my placenta, I accused my orthodontist of having sick pictures of my surgeon and a goat, I reminisced about wearing a weird guy's dirty underwear, discovered my blog is rated R, and hit on my brother's girlfriend.
July: Told you how I met Schmutzie, fessed up to my Facebook status update addiction, ninja fucked my job, dumpster dove for art, and took of to London to see the Queen.
August: Recounted my trip to the London sex exhibit and my discovery of the Rock Chick, wrote naughty fridge magnet poetry, purchased vulva art, and told you about my marriage proposal on the London tube.
September: Propositioned Smyrish's blog, told tales of incestuous cousins over at Schmutzie's blog, got censored by Photobucket, told you about one of my past censorship experiences, ate flowers, got a breast in the interoffice mail from Madam Diva, got a watercolour penis via email from Neil, and sang a kick-ass duet in a musical.
October: Showed you some of my naughty pictures of statues, Italian Edition, participated in the Great Mofo Delurk, served as a very dishonourable Maid of Honour for Musically Speaking, got pissed off at colonialism, gave my friends syphilis and gonorrhea, told you how I met Madam Diva, remembered my worst dates ever, made Ninja Fuck My Blog T-shirts, and got censored for said T-shirts.
November: Showed some more travel pics, learned how to fuck music literally, tried to get all hippie and healthy, felt the tick, tick, tick of my biological clock, reflected on my Year of Fearlessness, purchased a hopeful piece of art, mourned the loss of Superstar's mother, met the majority of his family at her funeral, got my second tattoo, and renovated my house, physically and metaphorically.
December: Sang for Neil's 2007 Blogger Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert, got postcard porn from Schmutzie, turned Madam Diva on to the Rock Chick, and welcomed Superstar to life in Saskatchewan.
That's my year, peeps. And praise Jebus it's over. Onward and upward!