I've reached a new low.

Anyone want to guess how shitty I feel after spilling the contents of a freshly poured, extra large cup of steaming hot coffee off of the kitchen counter and right onto the Jack Russell Terrier that is ALWAYS underfoot in the kitchen; completely covering his head and back?

Right, because cold-cocking him with my driver and splitting his lip when he walked right into my practice swing a couple months ago wasn't quite enough.

If you guessed steaming pile of dog crap as the possible level of shitty, you would be correct.

His yelping, crying and scrambling in circles out of extreme pain until I dunked him in a sink of cold water will be the stuff my nightmares are made of for the time being. That, and I feel like throwing up.

That is all.

Well, Hello There!

It's a good thing that I never specified on which Monday my next entry would appear or I would have been made a complete liar, since that was ten days ago. You see, here is the thing. Every now and then (read: always, lately) I start to over think this little space on the web and it basically paralyzes me and leaves me unable to write anything at all. After all, how interesting can my banal navel-gazing be, in the scheme of things? Do you guys really want to hear about the mundane happenings in my day to day life? Cause frankly, it just really isn't all that interesting and it mostly leaves me pretty bored when I contemplate it..so, subjecting you guys to it seems sort of pointless and quite possibly painful! A rather special sort of narcissism, isn't it? To presume that anyone really even gives a shit what/if/when I write on here? that is the other thing involved...I start to question if I should even write at all.

Add to that that life has been nothing if not busy lately and I am able to come up with countless reasons to just let that golf ball sitting tree frog wither aimlessly atop of old news.

Since you are here though, lets chat, shall we? I'll share with you a few of the things rattling around my coconut as of late.

In exactly 28 days, our current VISA status expires. While we are currently working with The hubs' employer and an immigration attorney to have that status extended, it is a time of great unease and anxiety for yours truly; the anxiety maven extraordinaire. While rationally, I know that in all probability, things will go off without a hitch; the control freak in me has to worry every possible angle in the meantime. Because while we all know that worrying while unable to do anything about it and even without knowing what it truly is I am worrying at this point is beyond wasted effort and really nothing more than self torture, as my stomach can attest to, it is just one more thing that I just Cannot. Let. Go. So, instead, I sit and ponder the logistical nightmare that would be us, in a month, without valid status. In keeping with all things bureaucratic, our FL Drivers License's also expire on that same date, so that sure would make moving back to Canada with all of our worldly possessions a fun-filled event, wouldn't it? And the fact that we are locked into our lease agreement for another eighteen months and my husbands inability to work for anyone else in the USA without valid INS authorization having been tossed into the mix? Does it make your stomach feel like you just swallowed a medicine ball too? Since I tend to internalize my stress, that is how mine feels. Especially loverly, really!

Even typing it out gives that fear a certain validity that I have been trying to avoid (further reason for my silence as of late). It makes it seem all that more real and possible, which my pea-sized irrational little brain sees and tends to slide down the proverbial scale from level-headed to full on panic-stricken idiocy.

So let's not go there anymore, shall we? Lets talk instead about...uhm, I dunno. Rainbows! And Butterflies! And Sunshine!

Bah...forget all the girly crap! Lets talk instead about golf. Now, that is something I can sink my teeth into. Like, for instance, my absolutely GORGEOUS new set of golf clubs, also known as some seriously suh-weet Callaway Big Bertha's, *commence drooling* , the likes of which include a complete set of irons (4-10--the 10 replacing my pitching wedge, for those who might give a shit), a sand wedge and a gap/approach wedge. As well as my very favorite club in my bag, the Big Bertha 5 fairway wood (I decided that for now I would keep my current driver, since it does okay for me and upgrade that later along with perhaps a 3 wood). That particular club just happens to be so sweet that I kissed it on several occasions when she produced for me. And boy does she produce. I HEART that particular club. Yeah--now that right there is some serious consumer therapy. It makes me want to go hit some balls just talking about them. And I may possibly be drooling, they are just that delicious. The Hubs wont actually admit to having club envy but I know he feels it. He claims that he doesn't, even, but he lies like a sidewalk.

See? Feeling much better now, thankyouverymuch! Did I mention how happy a sleeve of brand-spanking new golf balls makes me? *contented sigh* Good God, I cant move back to Canada! The golf season is just waaaaay too short!

Now then, aren't you glad you stopped by? *ahem*

Excuse me while I remove my head from my posterior and get my act together. I'll see you again soon.

Perhaps even tomorrow.

Has It really Been Two Weeks?

Otherwise known as the blog of non-updates...

As you all know, my family came for a good long visit, which was a great deal of fun as is probably best depicted in this little photo collage.



We had the occasion to spend some time on the Gulf Coast with my parents, and then my Auntie Lynne (Hi Auntie Lynne!!) came to spend a week (Which she promptly changed to ten days on her first day here, because she loves us (read:Florida, but really mostly us) like that.) and let me tell you, it was a blast. I would easily say that this was their best visit ever in the history of the more than six years we have been here. It was just plain old fun. Lots of time spent out by the pool, grilling our lovely meals, of which there was only one ill-fated, red wine induced char-session which left burgers so crispy fried that even the dog turned up his nose in disgust. They forgave me afterwards though, when I redeemed myself a few nights later with my grill mastery. Ahem. I mean, they were PETRIFIED. It was so bad.

Oh, in case you didn't notice the picture of the most awesome and heart disease inspiring steak dinner EVER in the history of all steaks, let me show you again. My mouth waters just looking at the picture of it even now, so yours should too.



Can you believe that butter and sour cream on the already double-stuffed baked potato? And the mound of best-ever bleu cheese dressing on that salad? Holy hell it was yummy. Crazy, I tell you, crazy good! Is it sad that I am now craving steak and my mouth is watering at 8:30 in the morning? Yeah, I kinda thought so.

I could tell you a great many little anecdotes about the visit, like my Dad's propensity for screwing up the names of local establishments such as "Skinny's" Burger joint becoming "Stinky's", or "Smokey Bones" BBQ becoming "Skeleton Ribs", or even the local produce stand "Maters and Taters" being renamed "Mana and Banana" but I think you probably had to be there or something is lost in translation. trust me, it was funny and we laughed. A lot.

I think what takes the cake though, out of all the little laughs we had, was when I dumped my Auntie Lynne ass-over-tea-kettle right out of the golf cart on one not so especially hairy turn (read:almost standing still) as she reached down to grab a golf ball. I do believe my Dad questioned our sanity as she and I were unable to move or even speak from laughing so hard, for fear of peeing our pants.

Now, that? That is family good times. I look forward to the next visit...which, given my three day rule and the fact that they were here a month? Is a miraculous feat, really. it was awesome.

Have a great weekend, everyone. I promise to update Monday and get back into the routine of several times a week, if you promise to stick around. Thanks for waiting out my sabbatical. I can only blame sun-induced vacation brain.