tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16152473095014690582024-03-08T08:09:33.506-08:00Tread softly, carry a big stick!Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-6543643248052296742011-12-04T16:26:00.000-08:002011-12-04T16:28:53.728-08:00Best Christmas Ever!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-CA</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> 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mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0cm; mso-para-margin-right:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">Christmas was never a happy time for me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My husband hated Christmas, and made it impossible to enjoy it when he was around.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He was abusive, and forbade me to put up a tree at Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He forbade me to go to church.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He forbade me to have any life other than his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It wasn’t until my son Brandon was 10 months old, did I muster enough courage to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>With a little planning, I was able to escape another beating with enough money to rent a bachelor apartment, purchase a bed and some used furniture from Good Will.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was tough, but when I looked at my son, I realized that I had to get out of that situation, if he is going to have a happy and blissful childhood.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">With a little paint, and some creative decorating our apartment was very homey.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We were comfortable and safe.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My parents had died years ago, and I didn’t have any siblings to rely on.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I knew that I would have to rely on myself, as I have always done.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It seemed like a difficult and daunting road ahead of me, especially with Christmas around the corner.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A few days before Christmas while hunting for a job, I was surprised how much in the Christmas spirit I was getting as I walked down the busy streets, watching shoppers and carolers and even Santa.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Everyone’s mood was cheerful, wishing each other “Merry Christmas”…”Happy Holidays”…”Seasons Greetings”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The ambiance started to rub off on me, I felt a bit of a spring in my step, and I realized this was Brandon’s first Christmas, and I was going to make it special for him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thank God for my new neighbour, who took pity on me, and offered to watch Brandon while I was job hunting, so I took advantage of the time on December 24th and visited Goodwill.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I bought a small tree, some lights and an almost new Fisher Price toy for Brandon.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I stopped in the grocery store, and picked up a small chicken for our Christmas dinner.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That night, while Brandon slept, I put the lights on the tree, made my own ornaments with popcorn and cranberries, and on the top of the tree I placed a lace angel my mother made for me years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had seen many Christmas trees in my life, at huge department stores and decorating shows, but I had never seen a tree as beautiful as my tree this year!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Christmas morning, Brandon and I went to church.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had never seen him so content, as he sat in his baby seat listening to the choir and the congregation singing Christmas carols. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Later that day, Brandon sat in front of the tree, playing with his new toy, I could smell the chicken cooking and the sound of Christmas carols coming from the radio; it as then I realized that this was my best Christmas ever.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-84188815058245639772011-07-31T20:26:00.000-07:002011-07-31T21:20:43.706-07:00Tale of Two Titties - the end of a SAGaThis has been a long SAGa. It started March 2nd, 2011 and finally ended July 20th! I am going to spare you the details of the issues with infection, abscesses, packing, numerous antibiotics...lets just say the last day that I needed to pack was June 20th. I was booked for the second surgery on July 20th to 'fix' the left tata.<br /><br />Because of the packing and abscess, there was some deformation of the breast, and to be absolutely honest with you, it looked like a vagina! There was also a large lump which was fat and tissue...medical reason I cannot explain, but it was gross and it was painful...thus the reason I went back in for more surgery.<br /><br />I love my surgeon. He was very kind, remembered everything you told him...I assume he is really, really smart, this is why he became a Doctor...which would include an amazing memory. He was very handsome, prematurely gray, and rather shy..which stikes me strange considering he is looking at women's breasts all the time.<br /><br />When I was in the surgical room, while I was being prepped, I told the Surgeon that my breast resembled a vagina. He blushed, and said "well we can't have that can we?" The nurse asked him "have what". He went over to her side of the room, and told her that "she said her breast resembles a (and he whispered this) vagina!" There were 4 of us in the room. I knew my breast looked like a vagina, the Surgeon now knew it looked like a vagina, and now the nurse knew...so the only other person that wasn't aware it looked like a vagina was the Anesthetist. Was he whispering because he didn't want the him to know, or did he think he was saying a dirty word, or perhaps he just wanted to keep it a surprise for the Anesthetist when my breast is revealed?<br /><br />I woke up in recovery, it was a 2 hour surgery for some reason. They paged my husband Mike to come in and keep me company while I tried to wake up. For some reason, I always get jittery when I wake up from the anesthetic, I need to sit up...I feel like I am smothering. I sat up, swinging my legs to the side of the bed when I noticed that there was a man across the room sitting with his wife looking at me with eyes opened wide. It was then that I realized I flashed a complete stranger. I quickly pulled down the hospital gown. I looked over at him and he was moving his head slowly peeking around the curtain to get another look at my junk!<br /><br />It was very comical to see him peeking over, it almost resembled something you would see on a Looney Tune cartoon...it is also very comical that anyone would want to take a second glance at my junk. Did he like what he saw, or was it curiosity, or was it like a train wreck and you can't look away...anyway I covered myself up with the sheet and he went back behind the curtain.<br /><br />The surgeon came in to let me know how the surgery went, told me about a drain that I would have to deal with for a few days, and that my breast no longer looked like.....he blushed and stuttered a bit...'a vagina' I filled in the blank....he laughed. Mike just sat there shaking his head, astonished that I would tell the doctor my breast resembled a vagina.<br /><br />Well it has been 10 days now, I have healed very well, my left and right tatas look the same and are actually pretty nice. I won't be flashing them anytime soon, but I am happy with the result and very happy this ordeal is over.<br /><br />Would I do this again? I am asked that a lot. Yes, I would do it again. There were a few weeks that were hell. It didn't hurt a LOT...it hurt but g its not the worst pain Ive experienced. I'm happy that I don't trip over my breasts when I am braless. I am happy that I don't have to carry those massive mams around. I am happy that I don't have the headaches or backaches anymore. I am also happy that I don't look like Moms Mabley anymore. (young people, you will have to Google Moms)Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-58123633585154046792011-07-05T18:43:00.001-07:002011-07-05T18:43:48.060-07:00Unconditional LoveWhen I was young, I remember my Grandmother telling me (I don't remember the conversation) that she was sure that Al Capone's mother loved him!<br /><br />I couldn't imagine someone loving someone that killed people. In my immature mind, I couldn't comprehend that a mother or anyone for that matter, could love someone unconditionally....even if they were a murder or thief or a 'bad guy'.<br /><br />As I grew up, I learned what it was to love someone for good and bad (not gangster bad) but someone who hurt your feelings, fight or argue with you and then make up and be friends again. These are lessons we learn when we are young with our friends. Having parents that loved me and were there for me also taught me a lesson of love and faith and comfort of knowing someone loved me, didn't matter if I was fat/skinny, ugly/beautiful, bratty/well behaved, they even loved me when I had zits on my chin!!<br /><br />When I became a teenager, I tested their love more than anyone could imagine, and when I got myself in with the wrong crowd and in a lot of trouble, they still loved me! What was up with that? I couldn't understand why!<br /><br />As approached my 20's I realized what a 'bitch' I was to my parents when I was a teen, and I even told my mother "I can't believe you still love me after what I put you through when I was a teenager' and she just smiled.<br /><br />Finally, when I had my own baby I finally realized that I couldn't imagine loving anyone more than I did this tiny baby boy...except one night...I was living with my parents at that time, and I was up all night with a screaming, colicky baby...I hated him, I wanted to hit him, I wanted to shake him. To tell you the truth I don't know what stopped me. Finally, I quietly woke my mother up. I was crying, and I asked her to help me (my then husband never woke up). The baby quietened down eventually with my mother rocking him, and I told her that I "hated the baby. I made a decision and tomorrow I am going to the adoption agency and give him up for adoption, there are many people out there that would love a baby, and I hate him. I hate him and I don't want him anymore"!<br /><br />My mother sat there, she didn't have a look of shock or pity or anger. She just nodded and said "I understand..I will drive you". I thought to myself 'that was easy' and I felt so much better. She put the baby down to sleep and I crawled into bed myself exhausted and relieved that there was a resolution to my 'problem'.<br /><br />I woke up late in the morning. My baby didn't wake up! I panicked...I ran to his crib and he was sleeping like...a baby....The memories of the night before flooded back...I ran out to the kitchen where my mother was sitting, drinking her coffee. I panicked, I cried...'what is wrong with me, how could I have said those things, I love him more than air, I can't give him away, what kind of mother am I? What kind of person am I?"<br /><br />My mother got up and hugged me..."I know Honey" she said "I know you love him, and I know you were just tired and frustrated, and I know you wouldn't give him away!"<br /><br />I realized that my mother knew what I was going through, and in her wisdom, she just agreed with me instead of arguing, and she knew that when I woke up in the morning, I would have been devastated for even saying these things.<br /><br />Again, she amazed me. She loved me through my bratty childhood, she loved me through my pukey teenager stage, she even loved me after I told her I hated my baby!<br /><br />I have 2 amazing children now. My son is 27 and my daughter is 15. I would take a bullet for them. I would give them both my kidneys if they need them, I love them more than air, more than my own life, however both of them have given me challenges. They have both tested me, and I still love them. I will be there for them whether it is to attend court with them, or hold their hair when they are sick. Nothing in this world is more important than my children, and I get it now. I get it why my mom has been there through every stage of my life, even the ugly stages and still loves me with all her being, <em>UNCONDITIONALLY</em>. I also get it why, even though he was a dangerous gangster, Al Capone's mother still loved him.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-90338280448569915762011-07-05T18:22:00.000-07:002011-07-05T18:23:33.449-07:00<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-CA</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> 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mso-para-margin-top:0cm; mso-para-margin-right:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><u>HAPPY PILLS?</u></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Today I am going to write about the things that make me happy<b style="">….<i style="">just a sec, I have to take the garbage</i></b> <b style=""><i style="">out</i></b>…..ok, I’m back…so things that make me happy…..<b style=""><i style="">ummm I just have to check twitter, I’ll be right</i></b><i style=""> <b style="">back</b></i>……sorry, I’m back and ready to write…SO things that make me happy…<b style=""><i style="">oops phone ringing…brb….</i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Sad thing is, some people are always happy.<span style=""> </span>Some people always see the glass half full, and the colour of the sky makes them euphoric.<span style=""> </span>Some people love getting up in the morning.<span style=""> </span>I work with a lady that is always happy.<span style=""> </span>Always positive about the day and always looking at the bright side of things.<span style=""> </span>I always wondered if she had something in her genes or extra ‘something’ in her blood that made her that way.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> I did a lot of investigating on this subject….ok, I Googled it….and I found that there are hormones out there that do make you happy.</p> <ul type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Serotonin:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Serotonin is sometimes called the happiness hormone. Serotonin regulates the mood, <span style=""> </span>prevents depression and makes you feel happy. Serotonin can be released by getting exposed to sunlight, by eating foods rich in carbohydrates and by exercising. </span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Endorphins:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Endorphins can make you feel good, reduce your anxiety and your sensitivity to pain. Endorphins are released by exercising</span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dopamine:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Dopamine helps you to feel mentally alert. The lack of it might cause lack of attention, lack of concentration and bad moods.<span style=""> </span>Dopamine can be released by eating foods that are rich in protein.</span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Phenylethamine:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Phenylethamine is the hormone that results in the feelings we get in the early stages of a relationship. Cocoa beans contain Phenylethamine. eating chocolate might be helpful too.</span></li><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Ghrelin:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Gherlin is a hormone that reduces stress and can help you become more relaxed. Ghrelin is released when we become Hungary that's why eating too much is not always a good idea. Just eat according to your body’s needs and never fill your stomach completely in order to maintain good Ghrelin levels</span></li></ul> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span>There you have it.<span style=""> </span>Looks easy?<span style=""> </span>I’m not a Doctor or a Specialist in Alternative Medicine so please don’t take my word for this, I found it in Google.<span style=""> </span>The point is, do some people have more of these hormones in their body?<span style=""> </span>If so, if I went to a Health Food Store and purchased all of these hormones in pill form, will I be happy?<span style=""> </span>Happiness is your frame of mind, but do these hormones help form this ‘frame’ or is it genetic?<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> I always wonder if Jeffrey Dalmer’s mother used to wake up in the morning; bright and early and smiling listening to the birds, or is there a lack of hormones in their genes?<span style=""> </span>Why am I always miserable in the morning, always whining about something, always complaining about aches and pains, and my parents always wake up around 5 am happy?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">I always wondered if I could get a blood transfusion from my friend at work that is always bloody happy, and if that would work for me?<span style=""> </span>This would make an awesome novel – blood bars to get<span style=""> </span>happy blood!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> I think the hormone issue needs to be investigated closely, maybe I will keep ‘Goggling’ but until then you can get the hormones necessary by 1) getting some sunshine<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">2) Exercise<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">3) Eat balanced meals/protein</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">4) Eat chocolate </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">5) Eat when you are hungry, but don’t eat ‘til you are uncomfortably full</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-weight: bold;"> For the record – writing makes me happy!</p>Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-20991277118194273412011-04-19T11:04:00.000-07:002011-04-19T11:07:27.684-07:00Annie - Short Story<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-CA</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> 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Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0cm; mso-para-margin-right:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">Annie</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> When I moved to a small town from Toronto 18 years ago, I never realized I would meet a completely different breed of people.<span style=""> </span>The kind of people that look you in the eye when they walk by you on the street and say a cheery “hello”.<span style=""> </span>The kind of people that talk about the weather, not for small talk, but actually are interested in what you have to say!<span style=""> </span>The kind of people that take the time to laugh, the deep belly laughs that only children usually take time for.<span style=""> </span>It took me a while to start walking through town looking up at people; I didn’t realize that I always looked ahead or through people as I walked by.<span style=""> </span>It was something that was bred into me living in the big city, afraid of eye contact, afraid to stare, afraid of idle chit chat.<span style=""> </span>There are probably many psychological reasons why we are afraid to look at others while we walk down a street, whatever it is; it took some work on my part.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">My group of new friends extended from parents of children my son went to school with, to the regular locals that were retired and would drop by the local ‘Gas/mo e rent<span style=""> </span>/groc<span style=""> </span>ies/din<span style=""> </span>/store’,<span style=""> </span>This was actually a ‘Gas Station slash movie rental slash groceries slash diner slash store’<span style=""> </span>Anything you needed was sold in the store.<span style=""> </span>You could find dish soap, shoes laces, candles, candies, fishing lures, pop, hardware, frozen pizza and pop.<span style=""> </span>Anything you needed could be found in the store, this included friends.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> This is where I first met Annie.<span style=""> </span>When I first met her, I was fresh out of Toronto.<span style=""> </span>She looked to be to be around 90 years old.<span style=""> </span>She had whiskers on her chin, a full moustache and hairy moles.<span style=""> </span>Her glasses probably dated back to the 1960’s, they were blue, and cat’s eyes shaped, the kind my mother wore when I was a child.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Annie always wore house dresses.<span style=""> </span>The kind of house dresses you would find in Kmart or Towers.<span style=""> </span>They were cotton, with flowers, about knee length, with 2 huge deep pockets situated on the hip, a place to keep her cigarettes and lighter.<span style=""> </span>They were definitely not a fashion statement; they were usually stained but clean and ironed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Annie lived in a small Victorian house across the street from the ‘Gas/mo e rent<span style=""> </span>/groc<span style=""> </span>ies/din<span style=""> </span>/store’, the house was surrounded by an old iron ornamental fence that was about 4 feet high, with a large gate that was always left open due to a broken hinge.<span style=""> </span>It was an amazing fence, something you never see anymore except in magazines.<span style=""> </span>The house, however was run down, the shingles needed replacing and the pain on the woodwork around the windows, what was left of it, was cracked and peeling.<span style=""> </span>Plastic that was once installed on the inside of the windows to stop the brutal winter drafts, and was never removed.<span style=""> </span>I often wondered if living in the house with plastic on the windows made her feel like she was in a dirty fish bowl, Unable to see outside during the spring and summer months.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Next to her house was the United Church.<span style=""> </span>On the other side of the church was the local cemetery surrounded by a chain link fence.<span style=""> </span>It was a small cemetery, but well maintained, there were always fresh flowers in the summer and wreaths in the winter.<span style=""> </span>Every time my son and I would drive by the cemetery I asked him “how many people are dead in that cemetery?”<span style=""> </span>He would laugh and say “all of them!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">Annie always wore her slippers with her house dresses.<span style=""> </span>No need to change, when she was just going to shuffle across the street for a bite and a cup of coffee and some company.<span style=""> </span>She wore knee high stockings, for the illusion that she was actually wearing panty hose; however they usually were rolling down to her ankles.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Rumour had it that there was no running water in the old house, or bathroom facilities, that explained why she took so long in the washrooms every time she visited the ‘Gas/mo e rent<span style=""> </span>/groc<span style=""> </span>ies/din<span style=""> </span>/store’.<span style=""> </span>It was hard to believe that in the 90’s anyone didn’t have running water or indoor plumbing.<span style=""> </span>If it was true, it wouldn’t have known it because Annie was always clean, except for the nicotine on her fingers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> I remember one day, while enjoying a cup of coffee with my new friends, Annie came over to chat.<span style=""> </span>She leaned down with her elbows on the table, putting her face an uncomfortable 6 inches from mine.<span style=""> </span>Unable to back out of the corner I was sitting in, I leaned back a bit to listen to what Annie had to say, secretly hoping she wouldn’t stay long.<span style=""> </span>It was then that I noticed the bristles on her chin, and the fine black moustache she had.<span style=""> </span>When I looked past the cat’s eye glasses I saw Annie’s eyes, and they were blue and clear.<span style=""> </span>From a distance Annie looked to be in her 90’s, when I looked in her eyes, she had the eyes of a 20 year old.<span style=""> </span>The eyes behind the glasses took me by surprise.<span style=""> </span>They were not eyes of an old lady who lives in a rundown house with plastic on the windows; those were the eyes of a woman.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> When Annie left the diner, I pleaded with my friends that when I get older and I am in a home, and even if I don’t know who they are or where I am, I want you to visit me once a month and wax my lip.<span style=""> </span>I want you to come in and wax or pluck anything on my face that is sprouting hair!<span style=""> </span>And while you are at it, if I have false teeth, Crazy Glue them to my gums.<span style=""> </span>We had a giggle about it and in a way we were laughing about Annie.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> That night, while lying in bed, I thought about Annie, and the shock I felt when I looked past the cat’s eyes glasses.<span style=""> </span>Why was I so shocked to see her eyes?<span style=""> </span>Why did it set me back so much?<span style=""> </span>Why was I thinking about this so much?<span style=""> </span>I realised that she was a child once, a young woman, a mother, a wife, a widow.<span style=""> </span>She had a story, she had a life when she was young and probably never occurred to her that she would get old, and wear house dresses and grow facial hair.<span style=""> </span>She had a life, she probably had her heart broken, she could be me in 40 years!<span style=""> </span>I thought about how insensitive I was, and how much Annie had lived, and how much she knew and how much she could share.<span style=""> </span>I made a promise to myself that I would try and talk to her, look past the whiskers and the cat’s eyes glasses and stop making fun of her.<span style=""> </span>For some reason after looking into those eyes, I needed to know more about her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> About a week later, I visited the ‘Gas/mo e rent<span style=""> </span>/groc<span style=""> </span>ies/din<span style=""> </span>/store’ for lunch secretly hoping to catch up with Annie.<span style=""> </span>She was there, sitting at her regular table, talking to everyone that entered the room.<span style=""> </span>I asked Annie if I could sit with her, and she seemed surprised that I asked.<span style=""> </span>As I sat down and ordered a coffee, Annie lit up a smoke “mind if I smoke Dear?” she asked.<span style=""> </span>It was already lit, but I didn’t mind, I was sitting at her table and I wanted to get to know her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> “How long have you lived in that house Annie?” I asked</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Oh God,, I’ve lived there most of my life, I got married when I was 15, and I moved straight into the house after the weddin’ – spend our honeymoon in that house”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Wow...15” I was shocked that anyone could be married when they are a mere child</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Yep, Stan was 20.<span style=""> </span>We were married pritnear 60 years.<span style=""> </span>Stan died last year, he’s buried across the street there” Annie pointed out the window towards the cemetery.<span style=""> </span>Pritnear?<span style=""> </span>I knew that was country talk for ‘almost or close to...pretty near...</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“So that would make you...75? I asked</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“I’ll be 76 next month, my son is supposed to come out and bring the grandkids.<span style=""> </span>I haven’t seen them since the funeral.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Oh, you have a son?<span style=""> </span>So do I, my son is 7”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Yep, Eddy was 50 last month.<span style=""> </span>You only have the one?”<span style=""> </span>Annie was always smiling, always happy.<span style=""> </span>I on the other hand always found something to complain about.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Yes, only one.<span style=""> </span>You only have the one too Annie?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Yep, Stan and I wanted to have 10 kids, but having Eddy almost killed me.<span style=""> </span>There were no hospitals, so I had a friend come over and help me.<span style=""> </span>Turns out he was coming out feet first.<span style=""> </span>They had to rush me to Toronto to see a doctor.<span style=""> </span>They tied my knees together to stop him from comin’ out...I thank the Lord every day for not letting anything happen to Eddy, you know...mental wise”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“They tied your knees together!”<span style=""> </span>I was shocked “You are lucky!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">``after that, we couldn`t have any more kids.<span style=""> </span>Stan pretended he didn`t mind, but I know he wanted more``</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">I wanted to know what happened to Stan, but I was afraid.<span style=""> </span>I was afraid to upset Annie, and I was afraid to appear too nosey.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">``Did you stay home or did you work?” I asked</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“I worked in the local Hotel” Annie answered</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Hotel!<span style=""> </span>There was a hotel in this town?<span style=""> </span>Where?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“It was at the corner, beside the bank building, this used to be a booming town, because the train went straight through the town...yeah, there was a hotel, a grocery store, a 5 and Dime, a sewing shop...”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">Annie filled me in on all the history of the town.<span style=""> </span>It was amazing that this town could go from a booming metropolis to a small sleepy town.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Annie had to leave, needed to go feed her cat she said.<span style=""> </span>I watched her shuffle across the street to the cemetery.<span style=""> </span>She stopped in front of the cemetery and leaned against the fence with her elbow, keeping the other hand in her pocket.<span style=""> </span>She was talking to her husband I was sure, but it was the relaxed way she was talking to the cemetery that stuck me.<span style=""> </span>She was pointing and shaking her head and not concerned about any of the cars driving by.<span style=""> </span>She was having a true conversation with her dead husband, as if having a rationale conversation.<span style=""> </span>Then she blew him a kiss, waved, turned, then shuffled home.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> I looked forward to my visits with Annie. <span style=""> </span>She was so interesting, she was naive but at the same time she was worldly.<span style=""> </span>Mentally she was a young 20 year old woman.<span style=""> </span>Physically she was an old 76 year old woman.<span style=""> </span>She had the sense of humour and spirit of a school girl, you could see she was up to mischief when her eyes would twinkle, and wink and then tease the kid that pumped gas about all the girls that were watching him.<span style=""> </span>She would play practical jokes – once putting a plastic spider in another regular patron’s soup when he went to the men’s room.<span style=""> </span>She always had a joke, usually the same joke, sometimes making it a bit spicier by adding a few curse words.<span style=""> </span>She would put her hands up to her mouth and whisper the curse words, then would ask us to excuse her French!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Annie told me early in the mornings; before she went to work at the Hotel, she would help Stan milk the cows, then load the truck with milk to sell.<span style=""> </span>She would change her clothes and head to work at the front desk of the Hotel.<span style=""> </span>She met all kinds of people who were passing through.<span style=""> </span>She named movie stars and politicians she met, and even lucky enough to get an autograph from Mary Pickford.<span style=""> </span>“Lucky she was in silent pictures I tell ya, she had a voice like a donkey...did you ever hear a donkey in heat?<span style=""> </span>That’s exactly what her voice was like” Annie laughed</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Annie had a lot of gossip, and always remembered everyone’s name.<span style=""> </span>She told me about the son of the owner of the hotel ‘used to keep a room aside for just himself, and he used to sleep with women that were passing through town..Oh yeah, he was a ladies’ man alright...smooth talker that one.<span style=""> </span>His father didn’t know about the room, but he used to keep the key and order the maids to clean the room every time he was finished with a young lady.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“What happened to him” I wanted to hear more</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“He died of VD!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Really” I asked “he died from VD”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Yep” she laughed “it was a real scandal I tell ya, all the young ladies that were associated with him all booked train tickets for Toronna to see a doctor”<span style=""> </span>She leaned back and lit a smoke smiling “you should have seen them, one by one they were buying tickets, terrified they had the VD too.<span style=""> </span>Oh my Goodness, it was a real scandal.<span style=""> </span>All we needed was the penicillin and we were fine”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“We Annie?...did you have relations with him too?” I was intrigued with her story</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">Annie stopped smiling, realizing she let the cat out of the bag.<span style=""> </span>She leaned close to me, I could see the eyes again “that is between you and me ok Dear” He was a handsome son of a dog, and Stan and I were having some problems.<span style=""> </span>He went out of town to find work, and like I said”<span style=""> </span>she sat up straight again and lit another smoke.<span style=""> </span>“He was a real smooth<span style=""> </span>talker”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> I knew there was more to the story, but I didn’t persue it.<span style=""> </span>Annie would let me know in her own good time, if she wanted to.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> One spring afternoon, while my friends and I were having our afternoon tea, we watched Annie shuffle home from our visit.<span style=""> </span>There were 3 telephone repairmen working on a telephone box across the street.<span style=""> </span>Annie waived to them as she does to everyone that she sees, then turned her back to the repairmen, bent over and started to pull weeks from her walkway!<span style=""> </span>Her house dress was hiked up to her waist, flashing the repairmen.<span style=""> </span>They all stopped what they were doing, their mouths dropped, they looked at each other in disbelief<span style=""> </span>then started to laugh uncontrollably.<span style=""> </span>My friends and I also wanted astonished.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Do you think she did that on purpose?” on friend asked</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“No...Annie isn’t some kind of flasher”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Oh yeah, well since when has Annie ever weeded her walkway?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">We all looked at each other and giggled.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> The winter months were cold and damp.<span style=""> </span>It snowed everyday it seemed.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t visit the <span style=""> </span>‘Gas/mo e rent<span style=""> </span>/groc<span style=""> </span>ies/din<span style=""> </span>/store’,<span style=""> </span>during those days when the roads were bad with drifting snow.<span style=""> </span>I thought of calling Annie, to see how she was making out, but of course she didn’t have a telephone.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Finally, like the wild animals in the nearby forest, we all came out of hibernation and ventured out to visit friends at the Diner.<span style=""> </span>I needed to socialize again.<span style=""> </span>I was looking forward to seeing my friends again, especially Annie.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> When I drove into the parking lot, there was an ambulance in Annie’s driveway.<span style=""> </span>I walked across the street to the crowd of people standing in front of Annie’s house.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“What’s going on?” I asked</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Annie” my friend was crying “we hadn’t seen her for a few days, and she didn’t answer the door so we called the police.<span style=""> </span>Turns out the old girl had a stroke and has been dead in there for over a week”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“A week!”<span style=""> </span>I was so shocked, I felt so guilty.<span style=""> </span>I knew she was alone, and I didn’t even check up on her all winter “the poor thing....”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“Good ole Annie...she always had a nice thing to say about everyone...to die like that...all alone” I heard someone say</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">“She was waiting for her son all last month, and he never showed up” another said</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">When they brought the body out on the gurney, covered, I felt sick.<span style=""> </span>I felt sick with guilt.<span style=""> </span>I felt sorry for her, and I felt sorry for myself.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t have a coffee that day, I just went home.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> I thought about Annie, what her life was like, that one day she had the world by the tail, then she got old and suddenly she was in the back of the line-up of life.<span style=""> </span>She wasn’t important anymore, not even to her son.<span style=""> </span>I thought of how much alike we were, and I could die one day, all alone.<span style=""> </span>I realized then I had to do something with my life, to make sure I am surrounded by friends and family that love me, to work hard, but to make sure I made time to play.<span style=""> </span>I wanted to get everything out of life that is out there to enjoy.<span style=""> </span>I wanted to grab the world by the tail, and bungi jump.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> That summer I was busy.<span style=""> </span>I was busy at work, busy with my son, busy with friends, and busy with a new boyfriend.<span style=""> </span>I visited the “Gas/mo e rent<span style=""> </span>/groc<span style=""> </span>ies/din<span style=""> </span>/store’ every once and a while, but it wasn’t the same without Annie.<span style=""> </span>Annie’s house was tone down, the old house with the plastic on the windows and the beautiful iron fence was gone, and new sod was laid over the hole where her house once stood.<span style=""> </span>When I drive by it is hard to see where the house once was.<span style=""> </span>Gone; disappeared like Annie.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> Whenever I feel down, or feel sorry for myself, I drove by and realize again how important it is to live to the fullest.<span style=""> </span>I slow down long enough to blow Annie a kiss at the nearby cemetery.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"> </p>Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-90949803388600387572011-04-19T10:14:00.000-07:002011-04-21T08:51:40.977-07:00Twitter and Big FattiesIf you read anything about the Tale of 2 Titties, you will know I have been off work for 2 months. I always wanted to go on short term disability, and relax...no such luck. But I have managed to only have to get dressed 5 days out of the 8 weeks I've been off.<br /><br />With all this extra time, I finally figured out Twitter. I activated the account last year and I felt like I was in an empty tunnel "hello? anyone out there" It didn't seem as exciting as <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Facebook</span> because there was always someone out there, adding there posts and updates, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">someones</span> baby got a tooth, another friend is waiting for her husband to come home. Some real, mind expanding, tidbits of information that got me through the day.<br /><br />So, I started looking into Twitter more, and realized that you are not monitored like <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Facebook</span>, that you can actually swear and not have to use symbols like "you are an a*" or "I am so <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">freakin</span>' tired" I love to swear. I cannot say a sentence without swearing. I don't even think a joke is funny without swearing. My husband asks me all the time 'why do you swear so much'. I was born and raised in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Rexdale</span>, that is part of our vocab....so Twitter seemed to be perfect to me.<br /><br />There are also a lot of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloggers</span>, lot of writers, lot of very funny people out there. You can even send a comment to a celebrity, and it is actually the real person (there are exceptions, I will talk about that later). There is a rush when someone follows you. I have sat out in the dirty, messy garage having a smoke, and laughing. The spit water, pee your pants kind of laugh. I have 39 followers, and only 3 or 4 of them are actually people I know. I have numerous friends in UK, some in the US, some Canada. If someone makes me laugh, I check out their followers and check out their tweets to see if they are interesting. I have also removed people from my list!<br /><br />I used to have the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kardashians</span>, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Snookie</span>, and other tree hugging celebrities that drove me crazy. All I received as tweets by any of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kardashians</span> was to promote their perfume, shoes, shows, and all I read with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Snookie</span> was that she is snuggling with her love, and self portraits of her hair and tan. Boring shit. Then I had a few celebrities that constantly tweeted about the air, the water pollution, the world is going to end, there are animals tortured. Now I am as concerned as the next guy, but to read it constantly day in and day out, I was about to slit my wrists or up my antidepressants!<br /><br />There are always some celebrities that answer your tweets, and there are others that don't. It doesn't matter what you do, they will never answer you. I see sometimes celebrities like Seth <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">MacFarland</span> will reply if he was insulted. I don't want to insult someone just to get a witty reply or be told to fuck off! But when I ask Robert <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">Pattinson</span> if he likes my profile pic (which is him <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">photo shopped</span> beside me) I expect an 'it's brilliant" or "Love it".<br /><br />Then there are the 'haters'. People out there that have activated an account without their real name, or even using a celebrity's name and they just spew hatred or venom. I asked Norm McDonald the comedian a question, and some freaky hater replied calling me a 'HO'. I showed him...I told him to get a life and called him a 'Mo' - then I blocked him...hmmph...show him not to fuck with me!<br /><br />I was trying to find the correct Will Ferrell because there were 5 or 6 to choose from and none of them had the blue verification check mark that confirms this is the real person. My daughter told me to Google it. I found one I was sure was Will, and then he was calling his followers 'shit stains' I replied to him, you aren't the real Will Ferrell, he wouldn't call his fan's 'shit stains' and I told him to get a life...and blocked him! I know what you are thinking, I am one tough lady, I don't put up with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">any one's</span> shit...lol...truth is I don't like confrontations so I block them!<br /><br />So I have many Tweeters that have the same interest as me, who like to laugh, write, blog and expand their minds with witty repartee. We giggle about smoking big fatties, roach clips and how you look like a big loser if you still have one.<br /><br />I don't know what I used to do with all my time and I don't know what I am going to do when I get back to work!Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-24099217950540437452011-04-19T10:12:00.000-07:002011-04-19T10:14:39.888-07:00Tale of 2 Titties - Part 4I'm actually getting bored of this subject....I am still healing, my right breast is lovely - the right one is nasty....I am not going to write about the tale until I have healed...too gross, too boring, and until it is healed and I can actually enjoy the new titties, I will write later...Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-55644012337544718042011-04-07T07:18:00.000-07:002011-04-07T07:58:14.940-07:00Tale of Two Titties - Part 3As mentioned, the drive home was an experience with all the bumps and potholes, I pretty much sat in the car holding my breasts to buffer the shock of the bumps. You can imagine the looks I was getting from other drivers.<br /><br />The first 2 weeks were a breeze. I felt pretty good, except for the constant nausa which was from the anesetic. I was healing fast, I had the drainage tubes removed within a week. The tubes were never really in the way or annoying, I looked at it this way, they were smaller than the breasts that were hanging there 2 weeks prior!<br /><br />I had a Nurse visit daily to change the dressings, and make sure that everything was healing properly. <br /><br />I visited the Surgeon, and he was pleased with my progress, and to continue what I have been doing. I felt at this time that I could change the dressings myself, and the nurse released me from daily visits.<br /><br /><br />I suppose I got a little too cocky about my speedy healing, because on the 3rd week I started to feel sicker, and exhausted and the left breast was red and hot around the nipple. I don't want to gross out the readers, but the infection was nasty. I went to my Family Doctor and she put me on antibiotic on Tuesday. She did proactively take a swab of the infected area. <br /><br />I can't even remember the weeks to follow. I just slept, couldn't eat due to the nausea. I forced gingerale to keep myself from getting dehydrated. On Friday morning I received a call from my Doctor, advising that the swab she took came back that the infection was from a rare bacteria that would only have been picked up from the hospital, and that the antibiotics she gave me wouldn't work, but called in another perscription for the correct medication.<br /><br />By Sunday the infection got worse and I drove myself to the hospital. Again, I will spare the details, however when you have surgery like this, the tissue and fat dies and decomposes and needs to be drain.<br /><br />Lets just say, by this time in my "new breasts life", they have been exposed to numerous nurses and doctors. It was as if they weren't mine anyway, I couldn't imagine showing my real breasts to anyone. I showed the Dr in Emerg and I am sure he was grossed out. He took a swab as well, and gave me another perscription for antibiotics and to take it along with the antibiotics I received on Friday. He told me that if it gets any worse to go back to the hospital where I had the surgery!<br /><br />I became sicker and weaker. I called and left a message for my surgeon to let him know what was going on. His secretary called me Monday and asked that I come to his office Tuesday. I was too weak to drive, and I was sure that he was going to re-admit me and set me up on IV antibiotics and perhaps another drain. I was even taking some of the painkillers that he perscribed. I didn't feel that I needed the painkillers even the day after the surgery, but now I was in a lot of pain.<br /><br />Tuesday, my parents drove me to Newmarket to visit the Surgeon. He explained that there was an absess on the one nipple and that the infection was not serious, but fat and its surrounding tissues becoming necrotic. He removed the abcess and infection. He called to have the nurses back to pack the area and ensure the infection clears up.<br /><br />Back home I became sicker and slept more. At this point, the 4th week after the surgery I wanted someone to shoot me. I felt amazing the first 2 weeks. Now I lived off of Gravol, ginger-ale and popsicles.<br /><br />Monday morning, almost a week later I woke up and wasn't nausaus. I was actually hungry! Hallalooooooooooya I felt human again. I actually had breakfast and kept it down.<br /><br />The nurses are still coming and packing the hole that was created when the doctor removed the absess. I visited him again Tuesday and he is happy with the progress with the infected area, and happy with what the nurses are doing....<br /><br />Check out next month....the benefits of having smaller breasts!Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-54425133395059278632011-03-18T16:22:00.000-07:002011-03-18T17:06:33.559-07:00Tale of Two Titties - Part 2It's been 2 weeks since the surgery and I am doing amazing. I'm still healing, there is still bruising, and....let me start at the beginning.<br /><br />First of all I was to be at the hospital in Newmarket by 11 am. There was a sudden snow storm, severe winds and drifting. There was nothing mentioned about this storm on the news or the weather channel. My parents were supposed to drive me, and then the next day my husband was going to pick me up (this way only had to take 1 day off of work). Turns out the roads were so bad, my husband had to drive me. We live approximately 1 1/2 hours from the hospital. The drifting gave zero visibility. At one point the snow cleared and we were about 6 inches from a 5 foot ditch. This drive only added stress and anxiety to the day, but when we were south of highway 89 the blowing stopped.<br /><br />All the staff at the hospital were amazing. Finally when I got into the operating room, the doctor had me stand, with nothing but my underwear, so he could draw some lines and measurements on my boobs. <br /><br />I just want to set the stage for this, because unless you have a 44H chest, and your breasts hang to your navel, you would never understand the humiliation of standing there for everyone in the surgery room to see...however everyone was so kind, and the Doctor was so thoughtful.<br /><br />He took a blue magic marker, he found the centre of my body, and drew a line. I told him that 'I wouldn't need anesthetic, I was getting off on the fumes from the marker". He then had an instrument that looked like a draftsman's tool, used it to make other measurements, then drew other lines. Finally he had a template of a oval, placed it high on my chest and traced it on both sides of the centre line. The circles were high, but I didn't question the man, he was the surgeon, and I was sure that wasn't a mark for my nipple's new home!<br /><br />I got on the stretcher, they put the mask on and I was out. I woke up what seemed like 5 minutes later, however the surgery was 2 1/2 hours. I was very nauseous. I had never been sick on the anesthetic before, but this time it didn't agree with me. An hour later I was taken up to my room, which turned out my lucky day, because I was in a private room!<br /><br />I was hooked up to IV with morphine, and due to the consistent throwing up, decided to hook me up with Gravol as well. I don't know about anyone else, but morphine makes me very hot. The nurse I had was so kind, she found me a fan, put it on the table in front of me, and blasted it 2 feet from my face and I was happy.<br /><br />My husband finally found me in my room, I don't recall any conversation because of the Gravol and morphine "speed ball". I must have fell asleep, when I woke up my husband was gone. I was worried due to the road conditions, and text him to let me know when he gets home. He text me back that he had been home for hours!<br /><br />I was soooo thirsty. I had some ice water, but I wanted a ginger ale, a Popsicle. Every time I saw a nurse I asked - "I hate to be a pain, but do you have a Popsicle?" They said they would check. Nothing, brought me more water, claimed that the budget cuts, don't have Popsicles or ginger ale anymore! wtf.<br /><br />Hours later, I had to buzz the nurse to put the side of my bed down so I could go to the washroom...turns out I had a male nurse...and all I was wearing was my underwear and a bra..I am sure the poor man will never be able to close his eyes again without the vision of my dimply ass waddling into the washroom, burned into his memory.<br /><br />I haven't mentioned the pain yet. When I woke up I was expecting the horrid white pain I experienced after my cesareans. Nothing like that. It hurt, maybe the morphine was helping. I felt some pulling, a bit of tenderness but not pain that wasn't bearable...until of course on the drive home...Not sure if the Ministry of Transportation or whatever Ministry it is that is responsible for the condition of the roads, is aware of the amount of potholes between Newmarket to Airport Road....but that story will continue next month.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-48859208852493676532011-02-28T16:01:00.000-08:002011-02-28T16:09:59.098-08:00Tale of 2 tittiesA New Me!<br />By the time you read this blog, I will no longer be me. I will no longer be the huge breasted woman that I have been over the past 3 decades. I will be perky, ‘smaller’, and new. I am getting a breast reduction on March 2, 2011.<br /><br />I am going to take the readers through my journey of my new lease on life. It isn’t a new lease where I am close to death and by some miracle get another chance, this is my new lease where I have been carrying around my 44H breasts which I am sure weigh 30 lbs each. It will be like getting 2 15 lb bags of potatoes removed from hanging around my neck for years. I am so excited I could burst.<br /><br />First I want to give you some background on my decision. I have a friend that had the surgery years ago, and never regretted the decision. I have always wanted to, but was afraid to have them reduced uncase I would not look uncoordinated. I am a “heavy set” woman, only 5 feet tall, and was afraid that if I reduced the size of my breasts I would look like a pear. It wasn’t until I saw a picture of me at Christmas where I realized that the size of my breasts, made me appear more matronly. It didn’t matter the quality of my bra, I still was massive, hanging, and repulsive.<br /><br />I was fortunate enough to get a new Doctor in my area, and when she was going over my history, asked me if I had a mammogram recently. I advised her I did, and next time I was going to take scissors, and snip them off! She asked me why, did I want a reduction? Did I! I asked “aren’t I too old?” her response was “No, I have patients in their 70’s” I said ‘absolutely, how soon can we book it?” She explained to me that if I was planning to lose weight, that I should get aggressive now, because when I get my “perky breasts, I won’t want to lose any weight from them”...I said “PERKY? I have never in my life had perky breasts!”<br /><br />My doctor and I discussed the back pain, the neck pain, the headaches that I have been suffering since I was a teenager. Due to these problems, the surgery was covered by OHIP. It was about 2 weeks later, I received a call from the surgeons office. A few weeks after that, I met with the surgeon, who was the most professional, patient, empathetic Doctor I had ever met. He explained how the surgery was done, and what I should expect and explained that couldn’t go too small, but from my 44H, could take me to a 44D or 44C. That was almost 7 sizes! <br /><br />As you probably noticed, I am an open book, I share with everyone. I posted it on Facebook, I Twittered about it. I discovered that there were many other women in my office that had the same surgery! These women were very discrete, and when I saw them after their surgery, I just thought they looked great, may have lost weight or something. One girl that I had never met in the office emailed me, she had the same surgeon, and she was so happy with him and her results. She was a 38K! She was so happy for me, as all the others that had the reduction were, and told me that I will be ecstatic with the results.<br /><br />Each one of these woman however, did warn me there would be a lot of pain. I’m not afraid of pain, I have had 2 caesareans, laparoscopy, numerous colonoscopies...I even had stitches on my nose and chin without freezing...I can handle it. To be honest with you I have to keep reminding myself that the pain is just part of the process, and I will deal with it when it happens, and it won’t last forever, and I will have painkillers, and I will no longer suffer from headaches and neckaches...so I’m ok with that.<br /><br />It is funny that each story that I have heard from others varied. One person said it was horrific, like nothing they have ever experienced in their life. One said it hurt a lot, but it was do’able. Another said although the pain was bad, the result made up for it...but each and every one of them said that “the only thing they regret, was that they waited so long to have it done!” <br /><br />Because this is serious surgery, it takes approximately 2 ½ hours in the operating room and 1 hour in recovery and a one night stay...there is a lot of pre-op work. My new wonderful Doctor had a breathing test done (I have asthma) and had an echocardiogram done on my heart, and then I had to go to the hospital to have blood work, ECG, interview with the Nurse to go over paperwork; discuss all meds that I take, allergies, reactions to anesetic, and then I met with the Anesthesiologist who pretty much decides whether or not you are a risk. So yesterday I completed all the steps, now I just have to keep germ free so I don’t get a cold or anything that would delay the surgery. <br /><br />I was told to bring my old bra because I will be wearing it after the surgery due to swelling and bandages, so I went and purchased one that did up the front to make it easier to open and close. I was told I may have drainage tubes, and there will be pain. There they went with that pain again!<br /><br />So by the time you read this, I will have already had the surgery, and God willing, I will report to you all on how the surgery went, and give you an update on the pain...and the results.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-46772363460147201052010-12-08T11:44:00.000-08:002010-12-08T13:04:04.248-08:00ChristmasI work in a call center, and speak to an average of 50 to 60 people everyday. I speak to many very obnoxious and irate people, condescending people, some very stupid people, but sometimes I speak to some amazing, inspiring people.<br /><br />I have spoken to numerous people that have cancer, and I am astonished by their courage and positive energy. I have so many stories to tell...but the story about Steve and his family and his dying mother has motivated me this Christmas.<br /><br />Steve lived in Alberta. His family still lived in Nova Scotia, and his mother who was in her 90's was very sick. His brother Bobby called Steve in early November and told him that he was afraid his mother wasn't going to make it to Christmas, but she was determined to make it to Christmas, even though her weary body was starting to fail her.<br /><br />Steve and Bobby came up with an idea. They decided that all the family in Nova Scotia would get together, pretend it was Christmas. The only constant in Mother's life, was that her sisters would visit her every Friday. Steve suggested to have the sisters visit more than once a week, this would confuse mother, and she would believe it was Christmas.<br /><br />Unfortunately because it was still November, Steve couldn't get time off work to travel to Nova Scotia, so he was there in spirit! The rest of the family arrived in their Sunday best, carrying their gifts, cookies, cakes. The turkey was in the oven. The tree was decorated, the stockings hung. It was a pretend Christmas in November, perfectly choreographed.<br /><br />After dinner when Bobby helped his mother to her room for a nap, she said to him "That was a wonderful Day Bobby, I know it isn't Christmas, but I appreciate the effort!<br /><br />Later that night, Bobby called Steve to give him an update on how the day went. Bobby didn't want to let on to Steve that Mom knew it wasn't Christmas. Then he looked out the front window. "What is it Bobby?" Steve asked. He could hear his brother crying. His brother was "tougher than tar paper"...what would make him cry? <br /><br />"Steve, you aren't going to believe this. I'm looking out into the street, and every single neighbour, everyone in this town has their Christmas lights on....everyone decorated for Christmas early because I told them our plan to have an early Christmas to trick mom, and the entire town has decorated to support us!<br /><br />When Steve told me the story I had chills. This story made me realize that the world is a good place, that we hear a lot of the bad things going on everyday, but very rarely hear the good stories.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-41489051733287228112010-04-27T15:25:00.001-07:002010-04-27T15:56:55.885-07:00April 27, 2010When I was young, I remember my Grandmother telling me (I don't remember the conversation) that she was sure that Al Capone's mother loved him!<br /><br />I couldn't imagine someone loving someone that killed people. In my immature mind, I couldn't comprehend that a mother or anyone for that matter, could love someone unconditionally....even if they were a murder or thief or a 'bad guy'.<br /><br />As I grew up, I learned what it was to love someone for good and bad (not gangster bad) but someone who hurt your feelings, fight or argue with you and then make up and be friends again. These are lessons we learn when we are young with our friends. Having parents that loved me and were there for me also taught me a lesson of love and faith and comfort of knowing someone loved me, didn't matter if I was fat/skinny, ugly/beautiful, bratty/well behaved, they even loved me when I had zits on my chin!! <br /><br />When I became a teenager, I tested their love more than anyone could imagine, and when I got myself in with the wrong crowd and in a lot of trouble, they still loved me! What was up with that? I couldn't understand why!<br /><br />As approached my 20's I realized what a 'bitch' I was to my parents when I was a teen, and I even told my mother "I can't believe you still love me after what I put you through when I was a teenager' and she just smiled.<br /><br />Finally, when I had my own baby I finally realized that I couldn't imagine loving anyone more than I did this tiny baby boy...except one night...I was living with my parents at that time, and I was up all night with a screaming, colicky baby...I hated him, I wanted to hit him, I wanted to shake him. To tell you the truth I don't know what stopped me. Finally, I quietly woke my mother up. I was crying, and I asked her to help me (my then husband never woke up). The baby quietened down eventually with my mother rocking him, and I told her that I "hated the baby. I made a decision and tomorrow I am going to the adoption agency and give him up for adoption, there are many people out there that would love a baby, and I hate him. I hate him and I don't want him anymore"!<br /><br />My mother sat there, she didn't have a look of shock or pity or anger. She just nodded and said "I understand..I will drive you". I thought to myself 'that was easy' and I felt so much better. She put the baby down to sleep and I crawled into bed myself exhausted and relieved that there was a resolution to my 'problem'.<br /><br />I woke up late in the morning. My baby didn't wake up! I panicked...I ran to his crib and he was sleeping like...a baby....The memories of the night before flooded back...I ran out to the kitchen where my mother was sitting, drinking her coffee. I panicked, I cried...'what is wrong with me, how could I have said those things, I love him more than air, I can't give him away, what kind of mother am I? What kind of person am I?"<br /><br />My mother got up and hugged me..."I know Honey" she said "I know you love him, and I know you were just tired and frustrated, and I know you wouldn't give him away!"<br /><br />I realized that my mother knew what I was going through, and in her wisdom, she just agreed with me instead of arguing, and she knew that when I woke up in the morning, I would have been devastated for even saying these things.<br /><br />Again, she amazed me. She loved me through my bratty childhood, she loved me through my pukey teenager stage, she even loved me after I told her I hated my baby! <br /><br />I have 2 amazing children now. My son is 27 and my daughter is 15. I would take a bullet for them. I would give them both my kidneys if they need them, I love them more than air, more than my own life, however both of them have given me challenges. They have both tested me, and I still love them. I will be there for them whether it is to attend court with them, or hold their hair when they are sick. Nothing in this world is more important than my children, and I get it now. I get it why my mom has been there through every stage of my life, even the ugly stages and still loves me with all her being, <em>UNCONDITIONALLY</em>. I also get it why, even though he was a dangerous gangster, Al Capone's mother still loved him.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-17098740222223916132010-04-25T16:45:00.000-07:002010-04-25T17:41:41.484-07:00April 25, 2010I was a bit hesitant to blog about this subject, but I'm going to throw it out there. I've already talked about religion, and I know nothing about politics, but euthanasia is my subject today!<br /><br />Euthanasia comes from the Greek meaning 'good death' or 'practice of ending life in a painless manner'....this subject just didn't pop in my head, I watched a movie last night about Dr. Kevorkian called "You Don't Know Jack" and, no, I didn't have a clue about Jack.<br /><br />He was a bit of a funny man, almost like an absent minded professor. He wasn't an evil man, the kind of man the press made him out to be. He was very empathic and caring who never solicited patients, he was sought and actually turned down 90 to 95% of the people. Dr. Kevorkian assisted over 130 people end their lives. Each of the patients were terminal. He interviewed each patient and taped each interview.<br /><br />During one of the patients death, the camera's panned off to the pictures of the man the patient used to be. He was a pilot, in the air force, all his army pictures were arranged on a mantel showing a strong, viral man who had control of his destiny and now he is a shrivelled up old man dying of lung cancer. I understood at that moment why it was so important that for a dignified demise for such a proud man...and that he was allowed to make a choice.<br /><br />So many arguments about euthanasia. When my beloved dog Phantom started to have seizures, and was discovered she had a brain tumour, I couldn't watch her suffer any longer. When the vet administered the needle, she was dead within 5 seconds. She looked like she was sleeping, and she was no longer in pain. When we went to pay the vet, she declined saying "it was an act of mercy". So what about a best friend or a loved one who have Lou Gehrig's disease, cancer or Parkinson's disease where they know they are not going to get any better.<br /><br />Dr. Kevorkian didn't actually kill the patients. He was once a pathologist, and with an Erector set he purchased at a garage sale, set up a system with 3 different drugs, (something to relax, something to put you to sleep, and something to make the heart stop) he would hook up the patient with the IV, however the patient was in control on whether or not to set the drip to start. This is how he got away with 130 assisted deaths, because he didn't actually kill the patient. <br /><br />During the movie, he was asked why he started a career of mercy killings, and he said that his mother had cancer when he was a young boy, and he had to watch her die a long and painful death. She told him to "imagine the worst toothache in your life....not imagine your entire body feeling that same pain, and nothing makes it go away". Wow...that really blew me away, to be in that much pain, knowing there is nothing medically can be done for you...you just have to wait and die.<br /><br />I have to say that if or when I get old and diseased and I am suffering a long and painful illness, that there is a Dr. Kevorkian out there that will help me. Let me die with some dignity like my dog Phantom did.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-79055540705171842232010-04-22T12:20:00.000-07:002010-04-22T13:55:39.590-07:00April 22, 2010I watched Idol Gives Back last night. I ended up changing the channel because it was depressing me and I never did find you who was sent home....but today I thought about it a lot. There were so many children in Ethiopia and other cities in Africa and other third world countries, that have seen more pain that I could ever imagine. They lost their parents, some have HIV, some are starving, some of the young girls ran away because they were forced to marry sometimes as young as 5 years old or female circumcision...and you know what stuck in my mind? What all these children had in common? They were SMILING! They were smiling, enjoying the life - has horrid as it was - as if it was a gift!<br /><br />I am as guilty as the rest of the miserable people in the world, that seems to have everything, but not happy enough. That our house isn't big enough, we have a lot of bills, our car is older, I can't find a decent hairdresser, I have to do laundry, I have to clean the house, I have to clean my car, I have to go to work! In our lifestyle, it seems like a burden to have to do laundry, but when I think of these people that have to take their rags down to the river and hammer them with rocks; throwing a load in the washer and walking away isn't so bad!<br /><br />I don't want to sound like - 'eat your dinner, there are starving kids in Africa' I don't want it to be that trivial. I am going deeper than that. <br /><br />Ever notice people with Cancer have the most positive attitude than most? Why is that? Because they know they could die tomorrow, that they are very sick, and they are suddenly appreciating the life they used to bitch and complain about. Same thing with these precious kids in Africa, they were smiling. They weren't going to McDonalds for dinner, in fact they may not be having dinner, but for the once sweet moment they were enjoying it. Is it because their life is so full of hate and fear and death, that through survival, they have taught themselves to enjoy the simple, and perhaps short happy moment because it could be their last!<br /><br />I speak to people everyday who are angry about mistakes, or angry about their invoice for a luxury item. I feel like telling them, this is just an invoice...I didn't steal your kidney, pummel your village, rape your sister. It isn't life or death.<br /><br />I'm not trying to make the readers feel guilty, and I'm not asking you to donate to a charity, I am asking you to look at the big picture. I'm asking to use these sweet children as an example, to enjoy life for that moment. To love, laugh, and enjoy your life to the fullest, enjoy the moment like it was your last. I guess that is what the person was thinking that said "Sing like no one is listening, dance like no one is watching" It isn't exactly literal, it is saying enjoy your life, enjoy the simple things, do what makes you happy, and who gives a shit....<br /><br />Now, my mission is done....now I have to Google and see who was cut on American Idol last night.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-62978472757491178632010-04-21T14:36:00.000-07:002010-04-21T15:53:37.355-07:00April 21, 2010My son used to think I looked like Elizabeth Taylor! When he was a toddler, he used to show me a magazine with Liz on the cover and point and say "mommy!". There she was in all her beauty with her violet eyes, and that sweet baby of mine thought I looked like her! Bless him!<br /><br />I know kids say the funniest things, and so much so Art Linkletter and Bill Cosby made millions just asking cute or homely kids simple questions. Things like "Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt and then he wears it every day" or "Love is when my mom sees my daddy all sweaty and smelly and still says he's still handsomer than Robert Redford" or "Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas and you stop opening presents and listen!"<br /><br />Kids are so perceptive! They figure stuff out, even though they don't know the words to describe it, they still get it...."love is what makes you smile when you are tired!". The expression <em>'out of the mouths of babes'</em> is so true. 'Love is when mommy sees daddy on the toilet and doesn't think it's gross'. My favourite is 'When my Grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend down and paint her toenails, so my Grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands has arthritis too! That's love".<br /><br />The truest comment he ever made was when he was about 5 or 6. We lived in Toronto, and every morning I'd drive him to his daycare centre. It was out of my way but I wanted to get him in a daycare that I liked and was close to my parents if he needed them. He would sit in his little car seat and talk away about his day. He would talk nonstop from the moment I picked him up until he would ask to go to bed at 7 pm. I used to be able to turn it off and think about something else, or my mind might wander over something that happened at work that day...but I would turn my attention back to him and he would still be talking...I would say hmm hmmm or really. He was very observant, and noticed people on the street and in cars beside us while driving.<br /><br />One day we went to White Rose, and he was sitting in the buggy, again talking. Every time I went up an aisle, there was an East Indian man with a gorgeous shade of purple turban in my way. I would go up another aisle to get around him and when I came up another aisle he was there again. He was in my way the entire shopping trip, even when I went to pay, he butt in line. I was at my wits end when I got in the car. I was backing out of the parking spot, and the same man with the Purple turban was backing up too and stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Finally I said "Oh my God, what is with this guy, he is in my way all the time" and my son peeps up and says "I know, I was going to say to him, get out of our way Mr. Taxi driver!" I said why would you call him a taxi driver? He said "He has a taxi driver's hat on!" This sweet boy was looking in all the taxis in our travels and to him, the turban was part of the uniform for a taxi driver!!!<br /><br />I laughed for hours, I still giggle about it.<br /><br />My favourite was every Christmas holiday between Boxing Day and New Years, my son and I would drive to Buffalo and stay for a few days in the Hilton, and swim and shop. I suppose it was the Christmas season which confused him because one year, he was around 7 or 8 while driving over the Burlington Skyway, and through Hamilton, he said "This is a horrible place for Jesus to be born!" I asked him what he meant. He said that "if Jesus was born here, why don't they clean it up". I said that this is HAMILTON, Jesus was born in Bethlehem! 'Ohhhh, that's good, but all these years, I thought this is where Jesus was born!!!"<br /><br />I'm not saying I am as beautiful as Liz, but in my child's eyes I was as beautiful as a movie star!Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-11318929607732582202010-04-19T16:25:00.000-07:002010-04-20T07:45:11.815-07:00April 19, 2010I often wonder, what happens when you die. When you stop breathing, are you just no more? or does your soul move to Heaven...or Hell? Is there such a thing as a soul? Is there such a thing as Heaven and is there such a thing as Hell?<br /><br /><br /><br />It is terrifying to think that when you stop breathing, and you have no more brain activity that this is the end. Nothing, you don't exist anymore - anywhere. This could be why people believe in religion and God and everlasting life. Intelligently I am struggling with the idea, emotionally I believe. I think that most religious people have that small doubt in the back of their mind and that is OK.<br /><br /><br /><br />I started going to church a few years ago, and the minister (Terry) was in his 40's, and was very easy to talk to. I told him that I was struggling sometimes with doubt, and I know we are supposed to have faith which should eliminate the doubt, and I felt guilty.<br /><br /><br /><br />I had a friend that had 5 kids, and her husband was killed in a car accident. About 5 or 6 years later, she met a man who actually embraced the fact she had 5 kids and that is an amazing feat to find someone, especially to find someone that is OK with 5 kids. Well about 2 years later she died of cancer! Terry knew my friend and the circumstances, and I told him that this is an example of why I doubt sometimes. He told me that maybe God brought the boyfriend into the picture, to look after the 5 kids...maybe, I said, but I didn't like it...<br /><br /><br /><br />Terry told me that everyone doubts, and it is OK to doubt, and sometimes, yes, he doubts. So then I started enjoying going to Church, because I could go and sing and pray and not feel guilty that I had a hard time buying everything.<br /><br /><br /><br />I'd like to think that reincarnation is real. I wonder if you come back numerous times until you get it right. When you finally get it right, you get to go to heaven. Could be why there are really 'good' people and really 'evil' people. I think this because some people are 'old souls' even at a very young age, as if they have been here before. They have intuition and perception that usually comes from experience.<br /><br /><br /><br />I also would like to believe that the soul can visit the living in their dreams. I mentioned before that I believe my grandfather visits me in dreams and we just talk, it isn't drama or imaginary. When he says he has to go I don't panic, I have peace and I wake up in the morning very serene and content. My mother tells me all the time when she dies, that she will visit me nightly so we can talk as we are very close and I believe it is possible.<br /><br /><br /><br />I don't know if there is Hell, and it terrifies me. I couldn't sleep in my own room for 2 weeks after seeing the Exorcist and I want to believe that instead of Hell you are sent back out to do it again and again before you get it right...maybe as a bat, or a beaver or a rat...and move upwards to a human before you deserve to go to Heaven.<br /><br /><br /><br />Either way I look at it, I refuse to believe that when you die, that this is the end of you and your soul. I believe that everything that you experienced and loved and who loved you would all have been a waste of time and the God I love and believe in wouldn't do that.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-63597044776388013382010-04-13T14:37:00.000-07:002010-04-13T16:00:04.708-07:00April 13, 2010One question that I find very thought provoking is 'if you could spend a day with 5 people alive or dead, who would they be?'<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Alive</strong></div>1. Oprah<br />I love Oprah. She is smart, she seems very real, and she knows so many people and has been so many places that picking her brain would be exciting. First I would ask her if she is gay, and if her BFF Gayle is really her lovaaaa! Stedman usually is only around for fancy dressed balls, and you never see him any other time. You never see her travelling with him, but her and Gayle to road trips and travel to Paris last summer. Not that I care, but I just want to know. Secondly I would ask her why she only opened a school for girls in Africa...don't the boys need education too! I'd probably ask her for a loan, and hang out with her and Gayle, because I think she is really funny.<br /><br />2. Stephanie Meyer<br />I love Stephanie...because of course she thought up Edward Cullen all by herself. I would like to pick her brain and get some help with my query letter for a literary agent...actually maybe she can hook me up with a literary agent.<br /><br />3. My Son<br />He is so busy with making a life for his new family and I never get to see him and spend quality one on one time together. It sounds very needy and sad, but we were so close when he was growing up, while I was a single mother, and now he is an adult with his own son and works long hours, and I miss him.<br /><br />4. Seth McFarland<br />Because he is my idol. He can do anything, sing, dance, write, make me laugh and nothing is sexier than than someone that can make you laugh...giggity giggity!<br /><br />5. Sarah Richardson<br />I want her to come and be my bff and decorate my house for free. Her and Tommy!<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Dead</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="left">1. Audrey Hepburn</div><div align="left">She is the epitome of class and beauty. I need some lessons. I saw her interviewed years ago, and she didn't say a one bad thing about any of her co-stars. To her everyone was a charming, lovely person. I want to learn how to do that. She wouldn't say shit if her mouth was full of it!</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">2. My Grandpa</div><div align="left">He died with I was 8 and I miss him to this day. I swear he visits me in my dreams, and we talk and then he says he has to go, we hug - I don't panic, I'm not sad. I wake up so serene. I want to talk to him awake and learn about him and what it was like growing up in his era. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">3. Jesus</div><div align="left">Because I want to know the truth, and who would be the one person that has to tell the truth...Jesus. I want to know what the hell happened, why, and what is going to happen and if there is any truth to the 2012 rumour! I want to chat about heaven, and if there is one. Sooo many questions, maybe one evening isn't long enough!</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">4. Walt Disney</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I want to pick his brain, and find out where he gets these amazing ideas and how he can dream so big and create something as amazing as Disneyland or Disney World. I am hoping his genius rubs off on me...and while I'm at it I want to get the truth on whether or not he was the bigot he was made out to be. I can't believe a man with such vision and created the happiest place on earth would be one! I need to know!!</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">5. Marilyn Munroe</div><div align="left">I need to know what happened. I am nosy and I need to know if she actually overdosed or if she was murdered. I also read that she was very smart, and she was very funny and I would love to chat, maybe do makeovers, do our nails, and just have a girls night!</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">After you read this blog, think about it...who would be the people you would like to spend an evening with....hmmmm</div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="left"></div>Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-61349814297327222102010-04-12T15:53:00.000-07:002010-04-12T17:17:27.073-07:00April 12, 2010Every time the lottery is over 5 million, I find it necessary to buy a lottery ticket. I usually avoid buying them for 3 reasons;<br />1. if it is under 5 million it isn't enough - I could spend that on a weekend.<br />2. I get too excited when I have a ticket and I get let down, in fact shattered when I don't win anything.<br />3. It is a waste of money cause I know I am not going to win.<br /><br />It is true, I get so excited when I get a ticket, I actually try not to look at the numbers because I feel I will jinx myself, or if I put it in a particular pocket in my wallet, it will be bad luck, or the store I purchase it from. For some reason I feel it necessary to purchase it from a store where there was already a huge winning. Not sure why I think that way, because lightening doesn't strike twice...but with all the voodoo, and omens and good luck/bad luck and obsessive compulsive disorder tactics, I still haven't won.<br /><br />I usually lay in bed at night and make plans with my winnings, and what I would do first (this again could be hexing it), I wonder if I should go buy my dad a new Cadillac and drive it to my parents house and surprise him. Should I just go to a travel agent and book a trip for the entire family to rally in Bahamas and make plans. I know that I would give a lot of the winnings away to family and friends. Perhaps buy Sarah's Country House here in Creemore. I decided I would give my house I have now to someone that is in need. Take my mother to Europe. Take my daughter and her friends to Disney World...no maybe Disney in Europe. Not sure if I want Hummer or a sports car. I am torn on whether to buy a house in Arizona, or a house in Muskoka...maybe I'll buy both.<br /><br />It is amazing how much time you spend - spending your winnings, that you haven't actually won- but now that you planned it- you know you jinxed it- so why bother, but it is fun kind of thing!<br /><br />I do know 2 things are for sure<br /><br />1. that I will look after my friends and family<br />2. I am throwing away my alarm clock (for that much money I can afford to hire the Sham Wow Guy to wake me up in the morning (You are gunna love my nuts!)Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-44920846684121839942010-04-11T15:08:00.000-07:002010-04-11T17:19:44.900-07:00April 11, 2010The most valuable experience in a lifetime is friendship! There are many different kinds of friends; best friends, casual friends, work friends, party friends and childhood friends. You have some friends that you laugh with all the time, and you have other friends that are amazing listeners and full of wisdom. You also have friends that you like to party with, but they aren't interested in your problems or your feelings, they just want to have fun. Sometimes you have friends at work that could turn into a best friend, and there are others that you know if you ever left to work somewhere else, you would only hear from them for a few months and the friendship will fade away.<br /><br />Then there are childhood friends, who know you all your life. They knew you when you had perky breasts, they knew you when you before you had breasts. These are the friends that understand you and understand the way you tick. Usually life carries on, and you don't have the time to keep in touch daily or weekly like you used to....sometimes the weeks turn into months that turn into years, and before you know it could be a decade or two before you actually talk again. Funny thing about these friends is you can call them up out of the blue and there is no awkwardness..like time stood still. They sound the same, you just pick up where you left off and they still love you, they still thought of you all the time, they still talked about you to their 'new' friends about things you used to do. It amazes me every time this has happened and you wonder why you let time pass. Why didn't you make the time to call. Why didn't you make the time to visit.<br /><br /><br /><br />I have had a few examples of this happening the past years. I had a friend, (I will call C ). C used to date my brother back in the 70's, they broke up and we continued to be friends. The last time I remember seeing her was when my daughter was christened as C is her Godmother. Our lives got busy. I bought a house, was working full time, not sure exactly what I was doing that kept me busy, but before you know it almost 10 years had passed. I had tried to call her a few times and left voicemails for her over the years, and eventually stopped calling thinking that there was a reason she wasn't calling me back.<br /><br /><br /><br />One day I called, and she answered the phone. Her voice was familiar and the same. She was so happy to hear from me. She never received the messages due to her teenage son's deleting them, but within 5 minutes of talking we were back to the way we were a decade ago! We were laughing, and it was so easy to talk to her. These are the friends that understand you and were there during your divorce, you have a history that could never be replaced.<br /><br /><br /><br />I have another friend that I have known since I was 4. We played Barbie's together, hide n seek, we went through puberty together and she was even there when I had my first kiss. The best thing ever is she married my cousin, which means our kids are cousins. We had dreams when we were young to buy a farm and have 100 dogs. We go months without talking to each other, and out of the blue she will call me or I will call her and it was like we saw each other the night before. Her daughter always knows she is talking to me on the phone because she is laughing abnormally louder than usual!<br /><br /><br /><br />Over the years, friends come and go and you realize they weren't really friends, they were acquaintances. I had one friend who I found rolling on the floor naked with my husband! I had another friend that was actually living with my husband after he left me and 'living in an apartment with a friend from work'. This 'friend' was still going out with me to bars, listening to me vent, and was even by my side when he was moving his stuff out of the apartment. It wasn't announced that they were actually together until about 3 months after he left. I think because of this I have had a really hard time trusting and making new friends over the past 25 years and my 'old' friends have been the only friends I trusted.<br /><br /><br /><br />I have another friend, I call her BFF. She isn't complicated. She understands me. I understand her and if she makes me angry, I tell her. If I make her angry she tells me. She doesn't get an attitude or snotty or give silent treatments. We both hate little mind games. If she offends me I tell her to f%*&off. I tell her to 'f$%* off, but in a nice way'...she says the same to me.<br /><br /><br /><br />I have hooked up with old friends on Facebook, that I lost contact with after the 'divorce'. These were friends that I lost as part of the divorce settlement so to speak. Unfortunately one of my long lost friends died of cancer about a year after she found me on Facebook. I am glad we had the opportunity to talk again, clear the air so to speak, and straighten up some of the misunderstandings that surrounded the 'situation'. Soon after my friend died, I hooked up with her sister who was a good friend of mine back before the divorce, and she was part of the settlement too. We talk daily on Facebook as if the last 25 years never happened.<br /><br /><br /><br />I am still a little apprehensive, but I have let my guard down after all these years and have made a few really good friends who I can trust, who are caring...friends for life! FFL Nothing will every replace my 'old' friends, but life is too short to not let myself have friends that I can trust. It is a relief that my 'new' husband has some integrity and I don't have to worry about him rolling naked on the floor with any of my new friends.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-64415736960867515992010-04-10T09:23:00.000-07:002010-04-10T12:08:52.299-07:00April 10, 2010Part 2 - Cuba<br /><br />Day after the junk exposure, I was so sun burned, that I had to lay in the shade all day. BFF , having a darker complexion than me was able to toast herself darker. I can't put into words how relaxed I was. I didn't have to do anything. I read 3 books, I had at least 50 naps. I had a massage on the beach (not very enjoyable with the grinding of sand with oil all over my shoulder blades, but it was exfoliating!) It was comfortable enough that we didn't have to talk, we just read, slept, drank, smoked, peed in the ocean, took pics of Speedos. Except for the peeing in the ocean we did everything in a horizontal position.<br /><br />The weather was perfect, the breeze was just right, the only time we got up (except to pee) was to go eat. I had a perfect lounger that was under a palm umbrella, by the wedding chapel on the beach. It was decorated in white gauzy curtains, blowing in the wind...very romantic, very beautiful. I assumed my position, watching, a little verklempt at the beauty and elegance of the wedding when SUDDENLY a man in his 90's, with a black Speedo, stood in front of me blocking my view.<br /><br />There was an entire beach to stand, and he couldn't have missed me laying there...but he stood about 10 inches away from my face. His skin on his ass looked like it was wax and it melted and hung down in ripples like elephant skin. I looked at my BFF in astonishment, couldn't believe that someone would be that rude and stand in front on me, and also couldn't believe any one's ass was that ugly. I puked a little in my mouth. We tried to muffle our laughter in fear of interrupting the wedding. I took a picture of this old mans ass, but it didn't do it justice.<br /><br />The other amazing thing about Cuba is that, as a smoker, you are not treated like you have leprosy! You can smoke in public, without being shunned or getting dirty looks, or stoned to death. It was an ongoing joke of the week to say 'because I can'. Example, I'm going to have a smoke right her in the lobby, you know why? Because I can. One dinner we went for Cuban food, and to our astonishment there was an ashtray on the table! Remember the days when you could have a smoke in between entrees? We didn't however, because there were people around us that didn't smoke, but after dinner, while enjoying our coffee, we had a smoke..you know why? because we could!<br /><br />After dinner we would have a few drinks, but we were exhausted for any night life...BFF probably because she set the alarm for first thing in the morning, and me for the interrupted sleep with the snoring and swearing. <br /><br />Last day there, we had to find out Jorge's real name, and had to get a picture because no one would believe 'our Latin luvvva' was so hot! sure enough, he can along the beach, and nervy BFF called him over, he was expecting us to buy cigars, but was happy to get a picture taken with us (and BFF's boil). He name was RUBEN...<br /><br />After packing and heading off to the airport it was sad, but I was so relaxed, so rested, I would definitely suggest to go to Cuba to relax. Cuba is a poor country, and although we drove by the homes where you could see the poverty, people were very happy. It wasn't until I went to the bathroom in the airport did I realize how poor they were. After using the facilities, and washed my hands, there was a woman sitting there handing out 1 square..one tiny sheet of toilet paper to try your hands, for a peso! <br /><br />We got home very late, and unfortunately there was 2 feet of snow on my car. That is the worst part of coming home. Good thing was I could get home and sleep in my own bed, without the trucker talk serenade while I slept.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-11316160800965644092010-04-09T15:38:00.000-07:002010-04-09T17:25:44.545-07:00April 9, 2010Last year, I went to Varadaro Beach Cuba with my BFF. It was the best holiday. Well not as eventful as Disney World with my daughter, but it was the best relaxing vacation I ever had.<br /><br />Not much to do in Cuba. There are day trips, but we weren't interested in doing anything but relaxing on the beach. First few days, it was a bit chilly, but I didn't notice. The ocean was rough, so we hung out by the pool. I was the only person in the pool (which wasn't heated) but I am used to Georgian Bay, I think I could handle it. Problem with going into a swimming pool slowly it isn't too bad when you are first walking in. The legs seem to be able to handle it...then you approach the crotch area and it is a shock to your system. As I waddled into the water, finally crotch emerged, I find myself walking around with my arms in the air! As if getting the arms are harder than the genitalia...but everyone does it. Finally fully emerged, I dunked under the water. My breath was completely taken away...I almost died in Cuba!<br /><br />It was the first day there that I laid eyes on Ruben. I elbowed my BFF, and jerked my head towards him...omg he was our Ricky Ricardo life guard! We didn't know his name, so we called him Jorge (pronounced Horhez). We sat at the bar for awhile, brilliantly equipped with our dark sunglasses so we could aim our face one way, but watch him with our eyes! Oooo lala<br /><br />Now everyone knows how much I love my BFF, however living with someone is very different. When we checked into our hotel room, what was supposed to be 2 double beds, was one enormous king sized bed. "Ohhh my God" I exclaimed "you were not joking about wanting to spoon with me". She offered to go and get the room changed, claimed that she had no idea!! (tic) but the bed was huge...I will just have to sleep with one eye open.<br /><br />Turns out the bed was so huge, that when I tried to kick her at night to get her to stop snoring, I couldn't reach her! I also made a mental note to purchase a pair of socks to stuff in her mouth at night because she talked more sleeping than she did all day! It wasn't actually talking, it was a sequence of curse words that would make a sailor blush! <br /><br />Then BFF set the alarm for 6:30, apparently it is a ritual that she made up for other trips so she can put towels on the choice seats by the pool. Turns out it wasn't necessary at this resort because there were enough seats for everyone. She would turn the coffee on, and talk to me then chain smoke on the balcony and read. <br /><br />We had choice seats by the pool, we could ogle Jorge, and also parked near the men's washroom to watch all the middle aged men materialize wearing speedo's. <em>Sidebar: I am astonished that Speedo actually manufacturers these swim suits. Do they actually make them in the 2000's or are they holding on to them from their youth, when they should be wearing them.</em><br /><em></em><br />This is when I began my Speedo journal. You can view it on my Facebook page. When we were on the beach, if someone was approaching from behind, BFF would warn me to get my camera ready. There was so many of these speedo wearers that I just walked around with my camera on my side arms length and clicked away. Devastating.<br /><br />BFF whispered to me 'don't turn around now, do it nonchalantly...but check out the guy in the pink shorts'. My head swung around without thinking 'way to go with the nonchalance' BFF laughed....and there, in front of me...the guy in the pink shorts....as God is my witness...(and believe me I would have rather poked my eyes out with a fork)...had his junk hanging out of the leg of his shorts. It wasn't intentional, he was there with his wife and kids, but looked as if the shorts either shrunk or he grew out of them. We took a picture, it is in the speedo journal...it was a must have!<br /><br />The ocean calmed down the 2ND or 3rd day, and it was beautiful. Turquoise water, white sand, calm. We laid by the beach and read. We would read until we fell asleep. Then we would wake up, have another drink and smoke, and swim. Sometimes BFF and I would stand waist deep and by looking at each other's faces we knew the other was having a tinkle in the ocean. <br /><br />One day, while standing in the ocean with a funny look on our faces, we saw Jorge walking along the beach, it was slow motion, like Bay Watch. Suddenly I started to thrash around in the water screaming "help, help...I'm drowning" He didn't hear me...."HELP, HELP, I'M DROWNING" he still didn't hear me, and we watched him walk away! What kind of life guard is that!<br /><br />Later on that day, Jorge came over and talked to us. We were both blushing like school girls as he was talking to us - in his broken English - we smiled, and nodded...and when he left I asked BFF what he was talking about? She said she wasn't sure but sounded like he was talking about his penis! He was saying 'tick ones' and 'yong ones' and 'big ones' 'yittle' ones. I think he was talking about cigars!<br /><br />We were so relaxed, and I was so exhausted with waking up in the middle of the night for the habitual cursing and potty mouth of my BFF, we slept on the beach in between meals. One very hot and sunny day while I was in and out of consciousness, BFF woke up and rearranged her lounge chair. "Ummm' she said and I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was pointing at my crotch, her finger making a huge circle in the air 'ummm, your junk is hanging out!". I looked down and sure enough, the elastic in my old bathing suit was loose and low and behold, <em>my junk</em> was hanging out. I swiftly pulled the leg of my bathing suit down and covered my exposed labia! "Oh my God, I wonder how long that was hanging out' We laughed about it for a good hour <em>SIDEBAR: It must have been hanging our for a good hour because it was so sunburned I could hardly walk for a few days.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Moral of this half of the story...make sure your junk is covered....</em>Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-22978603548545394102010-04-07T15:38:00.000-07:002010-04-07T17:24:21.817-07:00April 7, 2010Yesterday was a lesson of I-RUN-EE...today it is AWK-WARD! As much as it was difficult to explain irony, it is simple for awkward...however there are a few different definitions...<br /><br />1. <em>Lacking dexterity or skill, showing lack of expertise, lacking grace.</em> We all know those kinds of people, that are uncoordinated, tripping over their own feet, can't walk or chew bubble gum. Kinda useless, lacked skill...come to think of it, my first husband! His picture was in the description in Google!<br /><br />2. <em>Lack of social grace and assurance, causing embarrassment, uncomfortable situation!</em> We have all experienced those AWK-WARD moments. Embarrassing moments. Moments where you would like to crawl in a hole and avoid the awkwardness. Ever forwarded an email to someone in error? Ever get caught talking about someone and they are standing behind you? or awkward silence?<br /><br />I am going to get on a gas story, and as much as I find them funny, I don't want my readers to think that all I do is pass gas and laugh...I am in my 50's and should grow up...but I had a very awkward moment a few years ago. I really, really had to toot! I went into the lunch room that was behind my work station so I wouldn't embarrass myself or offend anyone. I ran in, didn't see anyone and let one rip that would have made Peter Griffin proud...then I hear some rustling...I looked around the corner and there was a co-worker eating her lunch! She didn't let on what I just did, she looked up and smiled at me and then continued to eat her lunch and read her book! Didn't she hear that? Is she hard of hearing? Was she being classy and ignoring what I did? Didn't she appreciate that fart! It was a beaut! My face was red...I ran out and got back to work. It was never discussed, she never let on she heard it!<br /><br />Years ago, before the recession, when everyone took hour lunches, had long coffee breaks, maybe did a total of an hours work a day, I spent most of my day pulling pranks on one my friends. She used to do things like leave her gym bag in the washroom on Mondays because she went bowling after work. I filled it up with tampons and pads, a hold puncher, toilet paper, anything I could get my hands on. (In those days the employer used to provide the sanitary needs for their employee's). I went on with my day and completely forgot I did that. The next morning she was venting to some other co-workers that 'someone filled her bag up with a pile of stuff, and when she got to the bowling alley and opened her bag, all the sanitary supplied fell out of her bag' and she was really pisst! AWK-WARD! It was supposed to be a joke, and I was hoping she would have noticed how heavy it was...and actually my plan was to catch her at the door and accuse her of stealing the hole punch!!! I later went to her and admitted what I did, and we laughed.<br /><br />The same woman for some reason was always my target because she had a good sense of humour, and she didn't feel picked on. One day she mentioned to me that her and her husband were just "simple people", they lived up north and lived a quiet simple life. I wrote on a sticky note "I'M JUST A SIMPLE PERSON' and nonchalantly put it on her back. Again I forgot I did it. I went back to work, and suddenly I noticed that she was walking into the President of the company's office with a tray of coffee! It was at that moment that I remembered her telling me that all the 'big wigs' from U.S. were coming to the office! I jumped up from my desk and ran to try to get the sticky off her back before she went in to serve coffee...I missed her....I stood in the hall red faced...panicking....then from the President's office I hear a roar of laughter!<br /><br />My friend retreated from the office. Her face was purple from embarrassment. OMG if that wasn't the most awkward moment of 'her' life!? She wasn't mad at me by the way, we laughed about it for years~<br /><br />Moral of the story, if you are going to pull pranks on someone, they will always blow up in your face, and put you in an AWK-WARD position!Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-73511023429070389972010-04-06T15:46:00.000-07:002010-04-06T17:50:43.230-07:00April 6, 2010Irony! Definition: <em>Say one thing, but mean something else.</em> I-RUN-EE. I Googled for 20 minutes to find a easy, correct definition of irony<em>...clear as mud....fun as cancer...as pleasant as a root canal.</em>..To me this sounds like sarcasm!<br /><br />When I went to grade school, we read a story that was the epitome of irony. The Gift of the Magi. Was about a woman with beautiful hair. Her husband loved her hair, in fact, he loved it so much that he sold his watch to buy her combs for her hair. Meanwhile the wife sold her hair for a chain for his watch....I-RUN-EE.<br /><br />So when Alanis Morissette sings about irony, it is all wrong:.<br /><br />1. <em> "Like having 10 thousand spoons, and all you need is a knife".</em> It isn't irony...in fact I'm thinking just use the side of the spoon, it will cut just like a knife! <br /><br />2. <em>"meeting the man of your dreams, then meeting his beautiful wife" </em> how is that ironic. It would be irony if his beautiful wife looked exactly like you did BEFORE you have the plastic surgery! Now that is irony! I-RUN-EE<br /><br />3. <em> "It's a free ride, when you already paid" </em>nope..that is just really bad timing and it would be prudent to ask for your money back! Come to think of it, <strong>if you already paid, it isn't free!</strong><br /><br />4. <em>"Mr. Play it Safe was afraid to fly, he packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye, he waited his whole damn life to take that flight, and as the plane crashed down, he thought 'well isn't this nice'".</em> Ok, this could be an example of irony, but lets analyze what Mr. Play it Safe said when the plane was crashing....'well isn't this nice' (or this is a fine mess you got us into now Olly)...no, Mr. Play it Safe would be screaming, and cursing, why the f$%^ did I take this flight...wtf was I thinking...something like that, but not 'well isn't this nice!' Another question that pops into my inquiring mind is WHY did he wait all his life to take this flight? Where was he going that he put off all these years in anticipation and didn't take his kids with him? Instead of irony, it could be fate!<br /><br />5. "It's like rain, on your wedding day" that would suck, but unfortunately isn't irony.<br /><br />I am not sure why I chose to write about irony, except for the fact I love to say it...I-RUN-EE...usually when it doesn't fit, as sometimes I get as confused as Alanis. So is irony sarcasm, fate or just really, really bad luck!<br /><br />I sent text messages to a few friends on April Fools Day telling them that I was pregnant! It is a joke because I am in my 50's...wouldn't it be ironic if I was? or just really, really bad luck?Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-79317671454550467812010-04-05T15:40:00.000-07:002010-04-05T17:30:10.957-07:00April 5, 2010Everybody is saying that T word again. I don't even want to type his freakin' name because I am so sick of it. I am so sick of the publicity that cheaters get. Jessie James, Tiger Woods (Oops I said it out loud) and Jude Law, Huge Grant, David Duchovny...they are all cheaters. They all were cheating on their wives. They are all featured on entertainment shows, and on every channel I turn to. Even the highest paid publicist couldn't get that much press for them.<br /><br />I was cheated on by my first husband. I have no pity for these men. What were they thinking? Ok, the thrill of it all, but do you have to sleep with 15 of them. I am just as disgusted with the women who have come forward admitting to have slept with "T" than "T" himself! If I slept with a celebrity, and found out that I was one of many, especially if I thought our 'affair' was special...that last thing I would do would come out and say "Hey, I was sloppy 10ths".<br /><br />Remember way back when Eddy Murphy was caught picking up a hooker, and turned out to be a man in drag. He was caught in his car with his pants down with a transvestite, and it wasn't for his/her 'verbal' oral skills. Do you think that if you were that rich, and you had a hankering for another woman, that you wouldn't have to pay for it? There are fans out there that would 'do' a celebrity for free! Not to mention in your car! Why not get a hotel, or even rent a Winnebago!<br /><br />When Hugh Grant got caught with Divine Brown, who was a hooker, he didn't bother getting a hotel, they were caught doing the nasty in his car. The police were notified because the brake lights on his car were going on and off alerting passing police to investigate. Kinda like a Morris Code for "<em>intense or paroxysmal excitement</em>" (Google that BFF).<br /><br />When you look at the wives who these 'celebrities' cheated on, what could possibly be going through the cheater's minds. Their wives are stunning, loving, talented women who could have anyone in the world. These women are going to take 1/2 of all your earnings since you were married....was a 'quicky' in your car worth millions or billions of dollars? Then, like David Duchovny, Tiger Woods (oops said it again) and Jess James, they were caught red handed, and because they can't deny what they did, they claim it is sex addiction!<br /><br />I am sympathetic to addictions. Seeing someone that is addicted to heroin or coke, or an alcoholic it heart wrenching. I pray for them and their rehabilitation...but seriously. What did they call it years ago when Clark Gable or Spencer Tracey was caught fooling around on their wives..they had to buck up and face the music. Now there is a disease for being deceitful! You can justify ruining the lives of your loved ones by saying you are addicted to sex. I don't know a man who isn't addicted to sex, it is just something called <strong>integrity </strong>that stops them from doing it.Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1615247309501469058.post-41457773163460174492010-04-04T16:35:00.000-07:002010-04-04T19:41:16.169-07:00April 4, 2010The weather this weekend was amazing. I booked vacation days around the holiday weekend thinking that I would spend the time stripping wallpaper or painting or redecorating a room. I wasn't planning to be financially strapped, so unfortunately nothing was done. I had no energy to do anything. Nothing. Notta. Zip...I checked Facebook, worked on my Blog, watched tv, (which by the way sucked) so I didn't get dressed all weekend, didn't go anywhere, talked to BFF for 10 or 15 minutes and napped!<br /><br />With it being so nice outside, I could have got some sun. I could have gardened (rather have a colonoscopy). I could have decluttered or cleaned the blinds, or swiffered the ceiling for cobwebs. There were a lot of thing I could have done that were free but I didn't...I couldn't...I didn't wanna!<br /><br />What is it about having money in your pocket, or money in the bank that makes life so euphoric? Everything seems better, even if you aren't planning on spending it or doing anything with it, it is just nice to know it is there. Then I was thinking to myself, what else in my life gives me that same euphoria? <em>'Medically recognized as a mental/emotional state defined as a sense of great (usually exaggerated) elation and well being' </em>and I thought of a lot of them...so here is my list:<br /><br />1. <em>Readers that have kids will understand this one</em>. At bedtime when you lock the doors, and crawl into bed and know that your kids are home, safe, tucked into their beds. That is a feeling you don't get very often when they get older or teenagers. I remember on the nights when my son was home on a Saturday night, usually because he was hung over, but that's ok...he was home, in bed safe and sound! Or if there is a storm outside and everyone is home!<br /><br />2. On Friday night, when you crawl into bed (why are all my euphoric elations all start going to bed?) and you turn your alarm clock off...you know you don't have to get up early in the morning...oooohhh heaven.<br /><br />3. Sometimes the euphoric feelings are usually just something in the back of your mind, reminding you something good is happening or happened. (The opposite of the over impending doom) like you know when you get off the phone, you have a fresh cup of Tim Horton's coffee waiting for you!<br /><br />4. In the pit of winter, you book a vacation to go somewhere hot!<br /><br />5. When you know someone loves you! Even if it is a new relationship or you are married for 20 years. When you think of your 'special' someone the euphoria kicks in.<br /><br />6. Laughing! OMG sometimes you get that deep, belly laugh when you almost can't breathe. Could have a lot to do with the chemistry of the brain, and the releasing of endorphins and increasing the oxygen in your brain. Laughing also helps your body fight infection, and laughing 100 times equals 15 minutes on a tread mill!<br /><br />7. Disney World. If you can get over the fact that your feet are killing you, being in Disney World give you euphoria. Doesn't matter if you are 2 or 102, you get that excited, delightful, wanna skip and hold hands and sing Zippity Do Da feeling.<br /><br />8. Bouclairs...ok, ok, that is probably just me...<br /><br />9. Sitting by an ocean. Hearing the waves, the turquoise water, the white sand. Wasaga Beach will do it too.<br /><br />10. Getting positive feedback, whether it is from a loved one, or from a co-worker or your immediate supervisor. Nothing encourages you to work harder than to get positive feedback. Like training a dog. If you yell or scold it every time it does something wrong, it will continue to do it, but if you praise the dog or reward him when he does someting right, he will continue with the positive behaviour. Nudge nudge, wink wink!Lauren Harringtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09265650404732768453noreply@blogger.com3