Tag Archives: silly me


Hi everyone! I’m 7 years old apparently, and I love it!




I’ve been keeping a secret. A deep dark secret. A secret that I did not let a single person in on. Not a one. A secret that has torn me up inside and made me feel worse and worse by the day. It was literally making me sick at times. It was a secret that I kept pushing further and further down every time it attempted to claw its way back up into my conscious thought. A secret that I couldn’t let myself think about for fear that I if I did think about it, I would become so overcome with it that I just didn’t trust myself with what I would do.

I lost my engagement ring.

I lost the most expensive thing I own (next to my car. I don’t actually know how much the ring cost, but I know it was a few pretty pennies). But far, far more than that, I lost the symbol of everything that Pte Goof and I have been through.  I lost the thing that Pte Goof spent all his money on to show me how much he loved me no matter what.

Pte Goof and I got together in August of ’07. It was just such an easy, fun thing that I figured would just be until I went back to school a little over a month later.  I had never had a fling before, in fact, I had always been quite against them, but the 8 months I had spent at University had done much to open my eyes to a new way to look at the world. And although I was still pretty uptight compared to the rest of the world, I figured I could hang out with this hot guy with the cute silver Chevy Cavalier (don’t tell him I called it cute) who seemed to actually have an interest in me, fool around a bit, then head back off to University and all the fun guys and booze there.

In a matter of weeks though, I was head over heels in love with this guy, and found myself giving him my v-card, when it was just supposed to be a little fooling around before heading back to school.

Let’s zip along to the spring of ’08. I had decided not to go back to school for various personal reasons (and not because I had fallen in love with a super hot guy back home, don’t listen to anyone who says it was because of him!). But I was working my ass off at a job I loved, and screwing my man every chance I got. I was having so much fun really, even if I was running myself into the ground working 60 hours a week at a very physical job, staying out all hours with my very physical man.

In May he went to coffee with Miss Stiles. He and she wanted to get to know each other better,  since she was one of my bffs and he was being heralded as “possibly ‘the one'”. In fact, I already knew he was the one, I just wasn’t telling anyone yet, because I didn’t want to hear a chorus of “it’s too soon” and “you’re too young”. I found out much later that Miss Stile and he had discussed his intentions. They had talked about a future wedding and engagement ring (Pte Goof told her that my bridesmaids would have to wear purple, my favourite colour). My Dear Miss Stiles convinced him that I needed a flat ring, because I was so clumsy that anything that had a big rock  I would catch and injure myself. This is probably the best thing that Miss Stiles has ever done for me, because, I hate to admit it to many women who have a huge ring, but I don’t like big stones. I just don’t like the way they look. But Pte Goof has expensive tastes, and loves to show them off. Had they not talked about this he probably would have bought me the biggest stone he could afford!

He bought me a beautiful ring. One with three diamonds that were flush with the band. At the end of June he was due to leave for boot camp and he really wanted to be more committed to me before he left. This ring used up most of his savings (after he totaled his dear cavalier and paid it off) , and it was a promise ring. A promise to love me forever and a promise for our future life together. It summed up our somewhat new, but totally devoted relationship, and all that he hoped for it. He planned to give it to me on my birthday in early June.


Then. Before my birthday, before my lovely ring was given to me, I took that test. The one that completely changed everything about our relationship. So when he gave me the ring, in the parking lot of my old elementary school in my crappy Plymouth Sundance, it was still a promise ring, but it meant so much more. And 3 weeks later,  when he proposed, just days before he left for boot camp, and could not possibly afford another ring so fine, I got a trinket, one that means so much to me personally, but that doesn’t get worn like my promise ring.

Because of this my promise ring has become so much more. It is both a promise ring and an engagement ring all at once. It is absolutely beautiful, and I love how right Goof got it when he picked it out. The only problem is that we got it sized shortly after he gave it to me, I was pregnant and evidently retaining water. It has been way too big for most of the time I’ve owned it, and so I don’t often wear it for fear of loosing it. Were it to slip off when I was out sometime I could never forgive myself.

And yet it happened. I wasn’t really sure when, just one day the thought occurred to me that I had no idea when the last time I wore it was or when the last time I wore it was. I checked all the places I usually keep it (A grand total of 3 possible places in our apartment). No luck. I was certain  it had to be somewhere. Guys, I felt like shit. Then suddenly we were moving, and I knew, that I would never see my beloved ring again.

And like a coward I couldn’t bring myself to tell Goof. It represented his hard (VERY HARD) earned cash. It represented everything we were together. And I lost it. I know it was cowardly and dishonest of me to keep it from him, but I just couldn’t bring myself to spill the beans.

Time wore on in our new place and I found myself becoming physically ill when I thought about my long-lost ring. How could I possibly be so careless?

But today. Oh today! I decided to use a purse to run to the store that I had not used in AGES. I’m sure you can see where this is going. I’m notorious for not cleaning purses out when I’m done with them. I was digging around in all the shit I had left in this purse and deep down in the inside zippered pocket I FOUND IT! MY DEAR LONG LOST RING! I feel like a GINORMOUS weight had been lifted off my shoulders! I can’t belive what I thought was still back in Ontario, probably in some pawn shop by some ne’er-do-well who found it, was in my hands where it belonged!


and I couldn’t be happier!

A Tiny Experiment

So, I’ve decided that I’m going to just sit down at the computer and type and see what comes out, I half expect that in the end it will be garbage and will rot in my drafts folder, but if you’re reading this I must have decided that it was at least ok enough to post (or I just posted it even if it wasn’t ok lol).

When I was quite little, probably about 8 I always thought about how when we paint rooms over and over they get smaller and smaller. My parents never had much money for redecorating, but every few years we kids we allowed to pick out a paint colour and we’d paint our rooms. My room went through about 5 different pinks before I went with a really pretty lilac colour that didn’t change until I moved in with Pte Goof and my little brother moved into that room and painted it dark blue. (I have twin brothers, have I ever mentioned that?). Anyways, as a kid this painting making a room smaller thing was something that I thought of quite a bit. I was pretty silly and was all convinced I’d drop that knowledge on an adult one day and they’d be all impressed that I had come up with such brilliance.

Then one day commercials were on TV for Seinfeld reruns. And there was Kramer, spouting off my theory! I knew from then on that if I ever shared this theory with anyone, they would assume that I had gotten it from Seinfeld! They wouldn’t think I was some brilliant prodigy, but just some kid who watched tv. Like there aren’t millions and millions of them! I was so mad!

It still bugs me a little bit. I don’t really know why, probably just leftover indignation from my childhood self.
Well there you have it folks. Probably the randomest and dullest story ever written, but I’m going to hit publish anyway…

Highway of Heros

Every time Squirt and I go visit Pte Goof we drive down the entire length of the Highway of Heroes. You know, the highway that the bodies of all of our fallen boys are taken down after landing in Trenton on the way to the coroner’s in Toronto. It kills me every single time. I have to drive the whole length of it. Every sign a reminder that one day it could be him. I shouldn’t think this way. Inevitably I’ll spend at least part of the drive in tears. But I can’t help it. It almost seems like a cruel joke to me that there’s no way to go visit my soldier than to take this route. Thankfully Squirt sleeps most of the way so I can shed a few tears and he doesn’t hear. But my God is it a long drive for me.

It’s so stupid that my mind always does this to me. I wish I could think of other things, but every sign denoting the road has a poppy on it. Because every dead soldier travels it. I think it’s a good thing, that this road has been dedicated to the fallen soldiers. I think that people need reminders that there are men and women dying out in the world serving their country. But damn, is that a long hard drive for me.

And the Award for Worst Mother Goes to…

After the shampoo incident, Squirt freaks out every time I go to rinse the shampoo off his head. He’s never really been in love with the process, but he seems more upset now. Sigh,

And if that wasn’t enough… I mentioned to you guys yesterday about the lovely walk Squirt and I took yesterday. What I didn’t tell you is that while we were strolling on of the trails by our place (our town has an awesome network of  trails!) I walked the poor kid into a tree! Once again, he wasn’t really hurt, he cried a bit, but it was short-lived. Oh my God though, could you imagine if the branch had stabbed him in the eye or something? I’d never have forgiven myself!

And then today. I’m not really feeling well, I was up half the night with some strange abdominal pain. I didn’t get very much sleep, and I still feel kind of crappy. Squirt was being so clingy, of course (I think it’s because he can tell that mommy doesn’t really feel well, and he wants to make me better, or at least happy, little sweetie that he is). I just wanted five flipping minutes to myself, so I figured I’d hand him three various sized funnels I got at Dollarama the other day. Something he hasn’t seen before, and pretty harmless. They did actually entertain him for quite a while, but fast forward to a couple hours later when they were still sprawled across my living room floor and you’ll see Squirt falling on his butt right on the business end of a funnel. The tears that accompanied that one!! My Goodness!

Hopefully I don’t break the poor kid before we go down to visit Pte Goof later this week (that’s right we’re going to visit!! I can’t wait!!)

Drip Drip Drip…

That is the sound of spring my friends. There’s snow melting everywhere, and it sounds like it’s raining outside my slightly open kitchen window from all the drip drips of melting.

The weather was absolutely gorgeous today! It’s actually been gorgeous all week! I’m absolutely loving it, and it’s a much-needed break from the winter blahs. (Although I’m sure as it’s only the beginning of march, and I am in Canada, we haven’t seen the last of winter yet, but these past few days are giving me a light at the end of the tunnel). I decided that Squirt and I would go for a walk! (We’ve had very, very few this winter I’m ashamed to say, it’s just such a pain in the ass during winter).

Last summer I bought one of those back pack baby carrying things at a yard sale, but we never ever used it, so I figured I’d bust it out. The walk was lovely! I’m so glad I decided to get my ass in gear and go out!

But I did have one sobering moment. I was walking along and a police car was cruising down the street, and for a moment I thought to myself omg, I hope he doesn’t pull me over for speeding. Let me repeat I was walking along, and I was worried about being pulled over for speeding. I’m such a chronic speeder when I drive that I worry about getting pulled over when I walk.  I think it’s time to slow down.


So yesterday I was on the phone with Pte Goof. We were trying to plan out one more visit before he starts his occupational training, because he thinks that he’ll be pretty busy once that gets rolling, and his sister graduates in April, so bye-bye free place to stay. The details were a little fussy because we are trying to have the least impact on his sister’s school schedule, since she’d nice enough to give up her bed for us (she’s lovely).

And all of  a sudden I just started to cry really hard (I would say bawl, but I HATE that word, especially in print, but there you go, I’ve gone and said it anyway). I don’t even know why. I wasn’t even really feeling that upset when he called. We didn’t really talk about anything that stressful. I just started to cry. And couldn’t stop. We had a half hour-long distance call of which 20 minutes was probably Pte Goof listening to me sob for no reason. wtf?

I mean, I’m a crier. I’m really a crier. I’ll pretty much cry at the drop of a hat. But, I usually know what it was that set me off.

Later we had a little msn date, and I was perfectly fine then. So who knows what was going on with me.

(and before any of you guys go whispering, no, I’m not preggers again, I assure you lol)