He's a Wanderin' Man

Wesley came home! It's amazing, I had completely given up hope and accepted that he wouldn't be back, and here he is! Yesterday afternoon I wandered through the living room and glanced out the window. There was a cat across the street drinking out of a puddle and I asked Ian if it looked familiar. "That isn't Wesley," he said. I was already out the door, and lo and behold, it was Wesley! I had to corner him in a neighbors garage to catch him, but as soon as I picked him up he started purring and cuddling. The other cats were a little puzzled to have him back and they spent most of the rest of the day with their noses shoved up his bum, but Mary was thrilled to have him back. She kept talking about him and petting him, and it was the first thing she said to my Mum on the phone. I'm taking him to the vet on Thursday just to get him checked out, but he seems to be fine, if a little scrawny (and amazingly muscular). What a guy.

Hey, you should read this, it's awfully neat. The letter from Charles Manson is bizarre and kinda creepy in a non-sensical sort of way.

Stupid Old Men

So, did I mention that no matter how old people are, they still seem to enjoy indulging in "DRAMA!"? I am so glad the whole dinner theatre is done, mostly because of the "DRAMA!" and not having to deal with it any more. As most of you may know, in small towns there are giant cliques, and it is next to impossible to penetrate the clique. Oh, they're friendly and nice enough, but you know, you just know, that no matter how nice they are, you'll never, ever actually be considered one of them. I had forgotten that fact, stupid me, until it was brought back with bone crushing force on Saturday evening. You see, I have spent a great deal of time with these people for the last several months. I've gotten to know them, they've gotten to know me. Yes, there are a few people who I don't particularly like, but no matter where you go there will be people who rub you the wrong way, and I'm rather certain that the feeling is mutual. Anyways. Saturday night, about half way through the first act, I made the mistake of glancing up at the sound booth. Now, this is something that I have been warned about from the very beginning. If you look up there, expect to have the old guys who do lights and sound try to screw you up. Anyways, I looked up there and one of the guys was up on his feet, waving his arms around. I panicked, just for a moment. What was wrong? What was he trying to tell me? Was my fly undone? Was my boob hanging out? What was it? I quickly realized that he was just screwing with me and I carried on, chuckling internally and feeling sheepish for being caught by them. At intermission I was sharing the story with a couple other young newcomers who have become fast friends of mine. I started my story with the sentence "Those stupid old men up in the sound booth caught me..." I tried to continue, but someone sharply interrupted - "What did you just say??" I repeated myself, grinning good naturedly. I was rudely told "One of those men is Bernadette's husband, you know!" I replied, slowly, confused "yes, I know that...anyways...I accidentally looked up there and they were really screwing with me today..." Once again I was cut off. "I know for a fact that you can't see anything up there when you're on stage!" Shouts Bernadette. I blink, appalled that she's actually angry with me. I try to explain "but...you can...and they were waving..." I stammer. Yet again, I get cut off as Bernadette storms out of the room and Shannon gets in my face "Just drop it!" and follows Bernadette. Patty follows the two of them, but storms back in the room a few seconds later to find me with my mouth wide open, completely stunned. "Drop it right now, Jennifer!" she shouts in my face and storms back out. At this point I am practically in tears. I didn't think I was being offensive at all, especially as these people know I call my children "miserable little wretches", I call my husband an asshole, I call the director a crazy old lady right to her face and everyone laughs. My friends are stunned too. At one point I can feel my face doing that thing that Mary's face does when she's trying not to cry, but I manage to pull myself together before going on stage for Act 2. The next night, Bernadette and Patty refuse to be in the same room as me, and Bernadette's husband, who I actually like quite a bit, does our pre-show ritual with everyone in the room but me. Did I mention that Bernadette is in her early sixties, as is Patty? So, I've moved on, but I sure don't feel all that welcome anymore. I'm still a little stunned by the whole thing. I tried to explain that I didn't mean to be rude or hurtful, that I actually like Joe and Barry, but no luck. Anyways, that's not the only thing that has gone on, especially with Patty and Bernadette, but it's the biggest and most upsetting. Maybe I'm crazy, I'll accept that maybe I went over a line, but I also feel that the reaction to what I was saying and the refusal to accept any explanation or apology is a tad of on overreaction, you know?

Phew. That was a long paragraph, hope you managed to stick through it with me.

In other news. Yay to the union in South Africa that is refusing to unload guns, ammo and grenade launchers bound from China to Zimbabwe and the hands of Mr. Mugabe!

Boo to Avent, whose bottles I've been using for Frannie because I thought they were safe, but turn out to be the worst culprits for leeching BPA into baby formula. Stupid (and I call myself stupid affectionately and respectfully, so please, don't get all offended. Just Drop it, okay!) me for thinking that because they were expensive that meant they were safe. I guess they're going to be sorry now that their bottles have been banned by the Canadian government. I suppose I should switch to glass, but I can't help but think the damage has already been done in the last 10 months of drinking from the bottles.

Hurrah for giving up on potty training and accepting the fact that Mary'll be in diapers when she's 13 years old.

Golden Showers

I'm livid. Absolutely seeing red angry. Mary had to go to bed early because I could barely stand to look at her, I'm so angry with her. I have been trying a new tact to get her potty trained. I bought a seat that goes on the actual toilet, I bought a bunch of really pretty little stickers, I put up a chart beside the toilet. I've been gabbing non stop about the wonderful stickers she will get if she does something - ANYTHING, on the potty. Tonight while I was bathing Frances Mary sat on the potty for about 15 minutes. Of course nothing happened, and she announced she was all done. I asked her if she was sure, she said yes, and I let her go while I got Fran out of the tub. Mary was naked at this point as she was next for the bath. Not ten minutes, TEN MINUTES, after she got out of the tub, she pissed about a gallon all over the hallway floor. I honest to Christ don't know what to do with her. I know, I know, everyone says it'll happen when it happens. I KNOW. But it isn't happening. She's over three years old. She has no interest what so ever in using the toilet no matter what I do. I yelled at her tonight, I called her a bad girl, I feel like a terrible mother but I am literally at the end of my rope. At this rate Frances will be potty trained before Mary is. Is there something wrong with my child? Is there something wrong with me? She can't go to preschool without being potty trained. I can't trust her to go even 30 minutes without shitting herself, let alone 2 hours twice a week.

On a positive note, the string is gone. It passed naturally Saturday evening.

The play is finished too, thank God. It amazes me that women in their 60's can act so bloody immature. Yes, there's a story behind that statement, and I'll share it later on, suffice it to say, I've managed to make an enemy or two in this wee town of Milestone. Yay for me.

To end happily - here are some pictures of Frannie Lou. In the first she is enjoying my birthday cake, can you spot her two teeth? In the second she is enjoying our NEW WINDOWS! Yay!

Oh Momentous Day

It's my birthday! Whee.

Mary ate string. It is half out, half in. I've seen the effects of eating string on a cat first hand. I am concerned.

Only two performances left to go!

I intend to drink a little more than necessary after the performance tonight.

Must go eat toast now.

1 down, 7 to go

Last night was our first performance that really counted. The first evening of dinner theatre. It went SO well! I was amazed, especially after that terrible performance in North Battleford. I had fun, something which was definitely missing in N.B. The audience was amazing, they laughed and were clearly enjoying themselves and the play. It makes things so much easier when you have a good audience to feed from. Oh! And the food! Good God, it was incredible. They bbq'd roast beef for the main course, the whole town smelled heavenly. The salads were fantastic, and the desserts were amazing. The whole town contributes to the meal, every house in the phone book gets a call and is asked to make either a salad or dessert for one night. I have been conscripted to make a salad called "Of Rice and Men." It looks absolutely disgusting, but people seem to like it.

I have some hope on the Wesley front too! A friend of mine says she saw him over on her side of town Wednesday night. She called him and he responded by giving her a dirty look, meowing, and disappearing into a bush. If it was him then it means, well, it means he is alive and may be coming home sometime. I'm trying not to be too hopeful, I don't want to be disappointed, but my spirits were certainly lifted. So long as he stays away from dogs, cars, trains, and the open prairie where coyote's and foxes and great big owls hunt, he should survive, right??

Ninja in Pink

Still no sign of Wesley, even on top of the hot water tank. While I was at rehearsal last night Ian got a call from someone who saw the signs that I posted all over town and thought they had him. They brought the cat by, but alas, it was not our Mr. Wyndham-Price. Everyone seems very positive about him returning one day, but I guess I'm a pessimist at heart, cause I just can't imagine him surviving even one night out there.

Other than the missing cat things are going surprisingly well. While I was away Frances started to crawl on all fours, as opposed to the "dying man's crawl" that she had been doing up to that point. She still drags herself across the floor from time to time, but she's finally discovered the coordination to do the real thing. She's gotten awfully cute too, I know I was only gone for a few days, but she's much easier to take (and like) since I got back. I don't know if it's just because I missed her, or if she hit some major likeability milestone while I was away.

Mary's doing very well too. Today she helped me clean up the house (well, main floor of the house) and vacuum. She does miss Wesley quite a bit, and every once in a while she will get very solemn and announce "Wesley run away. Not here." It makes me sad.

But this picture always seems to cheer me up. I call it "Ninja in Pink Against a Blue Wall."






This is the expression on Frances's face all day long lately. Much better than the screaming face, eh?

Home Now

Hello everyone!

Well, the drama festival is over and done with, and thank GOD for that. It went rather poorly, in case you were wondering. The hotel was AWFUL and filthy, there were men jackhammering all day just outside our dressing room, the group that performed the night before rewired the entire light board, and the performance was terrible.

My trip to Edmonton went well though. I got to see many people that I miss and love and I got to see several babies. I did miss the girls something fierce, but I was able to speak to Mary on the phone every day.

I got home to sadness though. Ian didn't shut the door on Sunday and one of the cats ran away and hasn't been seen since. I'm trying to stay positive, but I know what happens to house cats who have never been outside when they do get out. I have my doubts that he survived the first night, what with wild animals, dogs, trains, and cars. I'm pretty devastated, and I'm trying very hard not to blame Ian. It's not his fault. But I can't help but think that I can't even be gone for 5 days without one of my pets dying or disappearing. It's disheartening, you know? Anyways, last night I ran off some pictures and lost signs and put them up on all the bulletin boards in town. I haven't got a lot of hope, but I had to do something. I managed to hold it together till bed time, and while I was brushing my teeth I just lost it and started bawling, I'm awfully attached to my cats.