Gus is sitting on my lap pawing at my legs and I’m watching the Beijing, Opening Ceremonies, I haven’t cried yet but it is inevitable that I will. Medal races in the swimming start Sunday, that’ll get me if nothing has before then.

My love of sports and athletes is huge but I still have mixed feelings in regards to the Olympics and their politics but I try and make it a point not talk to about politics on my blog. I see what’s happening in Beijing, I see what is happening in Vancouver to the people, to the city. I know I’m not alone in feeling a certain amount of dread when the cameras are turned onto our city and highlight the government’s despicable testing taking place right now on how best to deal with the homeless. It did not comfort me at all to see the people of Beijing going through similar and heartbreaking experiences just to put on a spectacle for the world.

Sometimes it isn’t just the politics it’s the drugs. I may not be competing now but my therapists insists I am an athlete and should address myself accordingly it is just hard for me having such a nagging injury. [another post..] Sometimes I’m glad that I had a shitty attitude when we moved to Terrace because I never had to deal with the pressures of drugs. I had very limited running competition in Terrace, whereas in Smithers I was always second best and instead of using it as a challenge and running against older, faster more experienced runners and learning from it and growing I became an arrogant asshole and almost stopped running AND skiing all together. The Terrace ski hill is nothing when compared to the Smithers mountain and I got bored. I look back and wonder how my parents even put up with me through my seriously wasting my potential phase. [I’m not really sure it was just a phase though] Before I met Adam I dated some guys who considered themselves hard core, they were jerks to me but at the same time they loved being with a woman who could keep up to them but the difference is that I never took anything beyond protein powder and ibuprofen. I do not think ANY of the guys I dated took steroids but I could be wrong who knows. One dude had completed an iron man and one used to train with Canadian Olympic Gold Medalist Simon Whitfield’s coach. Both of these guys took creatine which is a controversial supplement and it bothered me, if guys taking creatine bothered me I bet you can guess how strongly I feel about professional athletes and performance enhancing drugs. The disappointment, anger and embarrassment I feel when athletes are caught is intense to say the very least. I put so much time and energy into the athletes I admire and love that I feel genuinely let down when I find out they’ve been using.

Even though I find myself yelling obscenities at the tv over most of the stupid commercials and idiotic statements made with voice overs by Morgan Freeman I try real hard to separate myself from all the bullshit and enjoy the fact that it is the only time that I can see almost all of my favourite athletes in one place for two fucking weeks man! I live for moments like this:

American Triathlete Sarah Groff & Canadian Olympic hopeful Carolyn Murray

I probably won’t post much else on or about the Olympics but if you are interested in following my excitement you can find me on Twitter. A social media platform I have very mixed feelings on but don’t seem to be able to break away from using or feeling upset over when someone un-follows me much like how I feel when people delete me off their Facebook but that is also something for another post.

Today the love of my life [sorry Gus] turns 29. Although I am pretty sure that Adam and Gus were both born in August, and I know that Adam would never have a problem sharing his birthday with his furry little buddy but Gus is only fourteen this year, poor thing I’ve been saying she’s fifteen.

I can’t really think of anyone who reads here that doesn’t think that Adam is pretty awesome; I know how lucky I am, I’m thankful for every moment we have together and find it seriously hard to believe Adam was only twenty-four when we met. Wow.

My plan here is to tell you a pretty awesome story about Adam, it does also include me but it is a story that will make anyone who thinks Adam is awesome think that he is even awesome-er-er.

Ok, so for our second date I asked Adam to pick me up at my shrink’s office at 5:50 pm. I have always been a throw it all on the table kinda gal and didn’t see this as a strange thing to do because I don’t see any point in hiding my depression.

At 5:50 pm on October 2^nd 2003 I walked out of my shrink’s office to find that there was no Adam.

I waited.

And waited.

About ten buses had gone by at this point and I accepted that he was not coming. It was almost quarter to seven; I crossed the street to catch a bus home and called my girlfriend. I let forth a typical sob story. How could I have been so brazen as to think he would seriously pick me up at my SHRINK’S office? How could I have thought that after one date that ANY man wouldn’t be freaked out? On and on about how stupid I was. Good thing that therapy session had worn off on me and I was learning not to devalue myself and all.

But I had this funny feeling in my gut and as odd as it may sound the tears and the disappointment felt forced. I had never in my life had a feeling like this, normally I think the worst and the worst happens. I was insisting on the worst outcome in my head but my guts were sending out a resounding “this isn’t what you think, just hold on a minute here” feeling.

I arrived home to the beep that land lines in the early 21^st century still had to let you know that there was a message.

The message was from Adam, he didn’t have my cellular number on him and he was at the pay phone outside of my therapists office and he didn’t have a cell so he was basically waiting there for me and trying to catch me when I got home. I remember his message was ridiculously awesome, so sweet. He had as I’d hoped; gotten the time wrong, he did not think that I was insane. [yet] I wonder how many quarters he went through that night, I have never asked him but he got me on my home phone and explained and apologized and said he thought he’d fucked everything up and I said oh no no dude I thought I fucked it all up like WHO the fuck has someone pick them up at their shrink’s office on the second date?

Apparently I do.

This incident in our very new relationship is my second favourite story next to the one about how we met. When this happened and he wasn’t standing me up, that I had missed him by like five minutes, it showed me that not only was this someone who was willing to see past my shit but he wanted me to know that he was someone who could see past it and I felt bad because he felt so bad and I couldn’t let it slide that I KNEW, I KNEW it man, I did, I just wish I had have been able to give him the benefit of the doubt instead of giving a girlfriend an “I told you so” moment.

It also works in Adam’s favor on a regular basis now because just like I can say that he knew what he was getting into picking a girl up at her shrinks office, I knew what I was getting into with someone an hour late for a date. Somebody isn’t super good with time. But most women bitch and nag about that shit, I literally can’t, I knew, second date, the boy just ain’t good with time but at least he knows my cellular number now.

He knows a lot of stuff about me and he is still incredible to me, every single day. I know it goes without saying that I hit that jack pot but I’m saying it anyway.

I hope you have a wonderful 29^th birthday baby.

Love, your Old Lady.

WE GOLFED!!! We had not golfed a full round together since JUNE 23′2007. That is insane! Camera only lasted one hole which means there are only photos of me and no video.

There was a long civic strike and because we have a lot of respect for the wee pitch and putt in Stanley Park we did not even ONCE sneak on and play. We wanted to because a lot of people were doing it, but we didn’t. And with the onset of seriously nasty adult allergies golfing has become really touch and go for me. I can normally make it nine holes without a problem but have to re-evaluate at nine whether I can play the back or not.

The expensiveness that is golf, no car, and no shoes are the only things that keep us off real courses, we have taken our clubs on transit but saying that is a pain in the ass is a huge understatement. We do play a course with full par threes and par fours sometimes but not very often. And I used to play with my parents up north.

I find it funny that we both have the same approx $150.00 Odyssey putters complete with fancy covers and we don’t even play full courses but does it really matter golf is golf it is hard and fun no matter where we play. Adam bought me my putter for a birthday gift years back and then he decided that he loved that putter and he didn’t love any other putter as much as he loved MINE and so he ended up getting the same one for his birthday we can tell them apart because Adam plays golf left handed and I play right handed EVEN THOUGH I am left handed and HE is right handed. I KNOW that is the craziest thing EVER. Also, his cover is the standard cover that comes with the putter MINE is a white tiger named Rain Tamer.

I managed to putt off two pars and did not have a hole where I got worse than three over par. Thank paganism for that because I SERIOUSLY freak out if I get higher than +3 on a par three. I don’t freak out like I used to freak out but I still freak out. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again golf has taught me more about myself than probably anything I have ever taken on.

It constantly teaches me not to underestimate myself, and now that I am experiencing a time in my life where I have a lot more confidence I find myself able to acknowledge my accomplishments playing a game that requires a lot of skills that have never come naturally to me. Like patience, patience is something that does not exist in my world unless I make it.

When we went out on Monday I thought for sure due to my muscle loss and having not played in OVER a year that I would not be able to use my pitching wedge. I pride myself on being a woman who can play the entire course cept for the 100 yard and 95 yard holes where I normally use my nine iron. I can use my pitching wedge on the two longer holes but it really limits my chances of getting it on in one shot and I have to seriously grip it and rip it which makes me grunt.

Anyway, I asked Adam to make sure my seven iron was in our little pitch and putt bag assuming I would not be able to reach the greens. Umm wrong, turns out I have legitimately learned to golf and was ripping the ball over the greens and quickly switched back to my pitching wedge. I had some seriously bad shots and lost a SpongeBob SquarePants ball in a tree but I counted it because, and I SWEAR BY THIS thanks to Adam, that the sooner you stop cheating at golf the sooner you get good.

I really enjoyed the book, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris but I thought that Me Talk Pretty One Day was far superior and made me laugh so hard I almost peed in my pants a couple times. His stories about his brother Paul, aka The Rooster are my favourites. From one obnoxious cursor to another he just kills me. I started reading his books because Jenn went to see Mr. Sedaris live and she was crazy excited about going and so I took a look at his stuff and I am so far glad I did.

In June I was looking at a 1001 list of books you are supposed to read before you die. I enjoy these lists, they are all over the place, of course I like seeing how many books I’ve read whether it is a list from published books claiming what you should read, or internet lists, banned lists, I basically like lists. The book Under the Skin by Michel Faber caught my eye. I have read his book The Crimson Petal and the White. Being that the novel is 896 pages long and I did not bend the spine or even crease the cover in any way shape or form it catches my eye on the shelf on a regular basis, I don’t remember much of the detail but I know it is the story of a prostitute in 19^th century London. I was in the book store one day and they had Under the Skin in trade paperback on blow out, this was years ago I’d say 2003 because the inside cover of The Crimson Petal and the White says that I read it in October 2003, I bought it knowing that because it has sort of a boring cover that I would probably never read it but wanted to own it because I had enjoyed the other book.

When I saw it on the 1001 list, the rest of the list ceased to exist for me and I grabbed it off the shelf saved the list to my documents and checked to see where I was in my current book to determine how long it would be before I could start it. If I could read more than one book at a time I would. The book I was reading at that time was The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger. [The Catcher in the Rye being a perfectly fine book by all standards in my opinion but finds itself on the banned list]

The cover of Under the Skin displays a quote review from The Wall Street Journal which claims it to be “Original and unsettling… an ANIMAL FARM for the new century.” Having also read Animal Farm, by George Orwell for the first time this year, it was my first read of 2008 actually; I found the rather extreme quote intriguing.

To read this book I had to deviate from my own reading list but I was willing to do it because I buy too many books to stick to only one list. I have reading lists and books I want to buy lists ALL over the place. In fact, something I really enjoy is flipping back through old journals and day planners where I always come across abandoned lists and survey them with nerdy excitement seeing what I ended up getting and reading and what can be moved to the new lists and what stays abandoned.

Under the Skin turned out to be an extremely engrossing book but for only 311 pages it took me ages to finish. It was one of those books that while I had it in hand with my eyes firmly on the page I could not put it down but once I found a way to put it down I had trouble picking it back up again. Each time. I am glad I read it, I talked to Adam about it a lot while reading it and explained the whole story to him, whether it should be on the 1001 list I don’t really care, I don’t put much stock in the lists other than to grab the odd book off them and see if I have read anything notable. In regards to its having been compared to Animal Farm, I can see how it is relatable but think it’s a stretch. The book does still have me thinking though, it was pretty good.

I’d have to say my favourite book so far this year has been Tori Amos Piece by Piece by Tori Amos and Anne Powers. I started listening to her music in 1994 my first introduction to her was her second album Under the Pink; I now own her complete library. I have had tickets to see her live twice but only made it to the concert once. The book was released in January 2005 to coincide with the album The Beekeeper. The Beekeeper is a fantastic album and in reading the book Piece by Piece I can now experience the album in a whole new way and do, I haven’t stopped listening to it again since I read the book. It lets you dive pretty deep into her life. It lets you peek into her thought process when she is writing songs and you find yourself on a whirlwind tour through the album and through conversations she has with music journalist Anne Powers, an intimate and what feels like a pretty complete portrait of her life is presented. I ate it up and love her even more now.

I also read Dry by Augusten Burroughs which I enjoyed, although it is sad and centers on his addictions. It made me want to get off the pot for about five minutes, but that would make my shrink too happy and we can’t have that now can we. I personally liked Running with Scissors a lot more. And I also read The Undomestic Goddess by Sophie Kinsella, I normally reserve her books for after I finish a heavy non-fiction read because I consider her to be fluff but for a fluff writer she is really good and I own all of her books and have read all but one. I don’t read what I consider to be fluff very often but when I do I am extremely picky about it.

Yesterday I went I saw my shrink for the first time this month. It is hard for me to believe I haven’t seen him since June.

I went to the United States of America and Aughra said she charged really high rates and so I never had any therapy there and then I came home sick because I can’t even travel over the border without getting backed up and exploding MANY times upon return to the point I was sent to bed moaning and groaning and saying “I’M FUCKED for Bali if I can’t even go over the border getting sick coming home from Mexico was one thing.” I was a rebel and drank the water but getting sick coming home from the States made me feel like a pussy, I only shat little pebbles the whole time I was there cept for maybe once I dropped a good deuce maybe twice. Then Dr. B was off for a week because HOLY STOP THE BUS I forgot to mention that I’ve graduated to seeing him once every two weeks now, for various and all good reasons.

I had to get down to business fast because I only had fifty minutes and a lot happened over the course of that time.

My medication has also OFFICIALLY been lowered. I am taking lots of vitamins and have been feeling soooooo much better since I don’t know maybe around my birthday (beginning of June) and when I got home from the mission I was finding myself falling asleep every day for hours and it was pissing me off and all I could link it to was too much medication. This is actually the second time it has been lowered since I started to feel better but is the first time that my prescription has reflected the change. This is also one of the only times in my life that a lowering of my medication has been successful.

Needless to say things are not perfect I still have super bad days and spend them in bed but it is one day not a couple or a week, one day, then I feel better and move on. I can not believe how far my capability to let shit go has come it is even blowing my own mind. I even uttered the words all of us depressed people fear yesterday, I announced I was HAPPY but that I feared the happiness in the stereotypical manor of losing my identity as a depressed person. This obviously isn’t going to be an issue I’m not cured I am just doing better than I’ve done in years right now and I am doing my best to ride it out and not think of the day it ends because I’m trying to keep reminding myself that it doesn’t have to end.

I now have August off and don’t see him again till September. The only difference is that I know I won’t see him for over a month. I didn’t plan on canceling my other appointment this month getting sick did that for me. I personally think I have done really well this month and can’t see why I shouldn’t be able to keep this thing I’ve often heard referred to as happiness going strong.

*Sleeps with Butterflies - Tori Amos

PS. I had my hair chopped off. Quite frankly I had never left it long that long before but I got married and then wanted to see what I looked like with may natural color, been married two years next month and I look like Corinna Liscumb Carlson so off it went.

I have started to call my left forearm my depression forearm because when I decided that I had to have the word breathe tattooed onto that arm, that not only would I tattoo it there but I became excited dreaming ahead to all the places that part of my arm will take me and what else I will feel the need to put on that section of my body along the road, down the paths my depression takes me.

This was not one of my already planned tattoos. This one just popped into my head and given what the last almost year presented to me I knew it had to go on now.

For anyone who has ever wondered or hasn’t had me explain it to them, the gerbera with the petals falling off of it through a fan of blue to embody the water represents my struggle with depression - through my favourite flower, our wedding flowers and the only flowers that people who know me buy me because Gus has anti inflammatory bowel disease and can’t eat nothing but cat food or she barfs and she has a penchant for plants and leaves, little brat, and gerberas don’t have leaves YAY! - it symbolizes a storm of sorts the flower is being torn apart likely through the tempest that is my temper.

I have added breathe as a reminder that I have to breathe through every storm. Breathing exercises really do work however cheesy they seem and are sometimes all I have to get me through a moment alone when I am freaking out heading towards the destruction of something and most likely something I really did not want to destroy in the first place. I have gone with the typewriter font because I love old typewriters, we have one, it is Adam’s, we use it, it was built between 1941 and 1943, although it needs a new ribbon we are just lazy about ordering it, and it is a font and style that begs to sit where it is typed with little symmetry.

Finally after nearly six full months of keeping it a secret I hopped a plane and headed for the United Sates of America to meet Aughra in MI and drive to IN to surprise and meet Jenn who is already dear friends with Aughra, they have had the pleasure of meeting twice now, but Jenn was told Aughra was coming solo at the end of July, not the case at ‘all!! It was really cute to see Aughra’s faux arrival date written on Jenn’s calendar she really had no idea when and that we were both coming! Our surprise went off without a hitch. Thanks a ton to Jenn’s husband for not only keeping the secret but for offering to keep us both a surprise.

People aren’t kidding when they say doing selfless things feels like a million bucks. I’ve always been giving but selflessness as a whole doesn’t come easy to me.

I’m cropping and uploading photos which are going to take forever but the set is [started] HERE. I am feeling pretty over stimulated [although in a good way, over stimulated none the less I stepped about a million miles out of my comfort zone and element] so I still need some time to decompress before I write about our amazing mission/adventures.

But here is a photo of the lovely ladies I have been blogging with for three plus years.

From the left we have the gorgeous expectant mother, and the beautiful text message queen herself, Aughra.