In Shrouded Form

As mentioned before in past posts, I work in a haunted building. Yes, you heard me right, a haunted, historical building.  Once a beautiful church, the inside has been transformed to showcasing a sad and lack luster version of a 70's decor gone wild.  With golden oak trim, green speckled carpet and orange counter tops, the only thing missing is a disco ball.

But beneath it all tho, and in the untouched corridors of it's youth, the old building retains some of its original charm of thick trim and window casings, old bannisters, bubble glass windows and locked up rooms with the original dark stained hardwood floors still intact.

Time, along with the landlord, has not treated this beautiful gem with the kindness it deserves. With the less than inspired housekeeping staff, there is narry a corner of the building that isn't oozing in gauzy cob webs, decaying bugs, fast moving hairy little spiders and burnt out light bulbs.

Eleven years of working here and I have seen and heard my fair share.  From distant sounds of imaginary children running up and down the stairs, to spring loaded doors opening on their own, to closing up my office and then hearing behind the locked doors, the filing cabinets and inner doors being opened and shut, to standing in the foyer downstairs and hearing the sounds of running back and forth above me in my office, all after I, the only employee, have locked and alarmed up my office.

Much to the dismay of the doctor's office below me, they are unfortunately provided a full-on audio entertainment each morning from my offices above until I arrive to start the day.

And there have been other spine tingling and unexplainable moments like light bulbs being smashed on my desk even though all six light bulbs were still sitting in their track lighting above me, to forks and pens and keys disappearing and then reappearing in the same place I had just looked at a few minutes earlier. Or, the night my better half picked me up and as I walked to the car I noted the sheer horror on his face and turned around where I stood breathless and in shock as a fantastical lighting display was happening where only mere moments earlier I had been sitting and typing. 

You would think that I would be use to all these chill boning special effects that accompany my every work day. And by all accounts, with the exception of the odd hair sticking up on my neck, I am.  But lately, a new thing is happening that is so disconcerting that even as I write this, my arms are fraught with goosebumps. 

I am constantly seeing a shrouded form in my peripheral vision.  It happens so quickly and suddenly that for an instant, my senses are swirling and it takes all my effort to catching my breath in attempt to calm down and not go screaming into the night.  And while it is not all the time, a few times a week seems to be more than I really wish to experience. I just cannot shake the sense that I am being watched. Tall, dark and ghostly opaque qualities, it often stands and occupies a corner of one of the several empty offices that makes up the entire floor that I work alone on. Undoubtedly after several weeks of this, I am starting to sense the moment before it happens.  I see it there from the corner of my eye, but when I turn my head it evaporates into thin air.

And, as fall creeps in closer and the days get shorter, my concern about being alone in the building whilst I wait the extra hour for my better half to pick me up, is, I have to say, unnerving to say the least.

I suppose, it's all part of the fun of working in an older building, but I must admit that my dreams of owning an older character home have all been shattered since working here. It's nothing but new construction for me now, as I want to ensure that the only thing haunting my home, is my better half's lingering, wretched farting sprees.

In the meantime, I believe it is time for me to go as the hair on my neck is starting to stand straight up and my spidey senses are in full gear. 

Until next time.

Cheers

Tracy

Meh!

I think I have lost my mojo..

My umpf...

My witty repartee...

My imagination...

My zest (oh wait, did I ever have zest? Hmmmm.... nope, I am pretty sure I have always been a zest-free zone)

In short, I have those damn Blogger Blues.

You know where you are too tired to think of something to write in the waking hours of your life?  I mean it goes without saying that some of my best ideas for blogging come about in the middle of the night or when I am taking a shower, or gawd forbid, when I am sitting on the loo.  All of which leads to a very inconvenient time to blog.

I have barely even taken any photos in the last five weeks, which is so unlike me as usually my camera is surgically attached to my eyeball.

Even today, I posted a new post on my other blog As I Dream It  as it had been about 5 weeks since I posted over there. And guess what, the bloody thing won't show in the reader or on any blogrolls and for some reason, I am too tired to figure it out. It's kinda sad because it is a little thank you post for Mandy at Tatter and Wild and Nana at La Table De Nana for some lovely things they did for me, for which they will never see it, because it is yet another glitch with lovely blogger.

Anywhooo, since I have nothing worthy to say and I have snagged you this far into my meaningless clutches, oops I mean post, I'd like to take this time to say thank you for a couple of things.

First, there are several new people who have joined my possey, so thank you Justin, Rebecca, Elliot MacLeod-Michael, Liz it is and Twilightgazing.  Nice to see your lovely faces, and if you haven't already, and you want too, feel free to input your blogsite up on the above tab called the Meet and Greet Page so that other great bloggers can find out about you and what you have to write about.

Secondly, I have thank my friend, Paul, over at I took the One Less Travelled for passing on a lovely award to me. You are too kind my friend, too kind indeed!

Finally, I want to invite you all to leave a comment below with your blog addresses so that after you read my boring schmoozle of a post, you can actually go and visit a post worthy of a read!

Cheers for now lovely ones!

And if you were here in person, I would probably give you all a big smoocharoo!

Tracy xxoo

A MOVELESS RAIN DANCE

This is a post I wrote from last year, one that is near and dear to my heart and one that expresses how I feel today.... Happy Sunday to everyone!

It’s raining today, and out of nowhere, my senses have been exhilarated with this deep feeling that my soul is cleansing it’s self. The skylight above me renders a constant pitter patter noise and I am adoring it. I pull my sweater closer around my neck while my eyes flutter in an attempt to remain open and focused.

Thoughts and ideas flit thru my mind, but I am too relaxed to be able to retain them. I am having a moment where I feel peaceful. So ironic for me.

I jump up from my desk at the lunch hour and walk outside and stand there while the sky drizzles down upon me, doing my own version of a moveless impromptu rain dance. Drops are glistening in my hair and then silently rolling down my cheeks and it feels so good. People walk past and give me crazy looks. I smile back and even cheekily say “you should try it some time”. They scamper away from the lunatic on the sidewalk who allows the rain to soak her. But the rain is not soaking me, it’s saturating my soul. Curiously, I feel warm rather than cold. But I understand, the rain is washing away the accumulation of disappointments that I have been holding onto so tightly and for far too long. Slowly and ever so slightly, I feel small releases as each one leaves me. I tell myself it is time to move on from those things I have no control over.

And then, in a moment of haste, I almost miss her. The sweetest child with blonde hair and blue eyes looking up at me perplexed. She blinks and strains her lovely face my way until the recognition dawns on her and she smiles and looks up at the sky. I stand there mesmerized as I watch beautiful silver streaked droplets of water splash on her soft brown eyelashes giving her an almost ethereal glow. She slips her warm soft hand into mine. My heart beats hard because I know her. I once was her. Innocent and happy, kind and thoughtful, with the world before me. She tells me that all will be okay and for a fleeting moment I believe her. I bend down and kiss her forehead and say “I know sweetheart”.

And then, with a turn and a sigh and a yank of my warm duvet, I wake up to the beautiful sound of the rain falling gently on my roof. And my day begins.

Until Next Time...

Cheers

Tracy

She can’t be rosie and sunshiny all the time, can she?

I’ve got a friend and she is the epitome of happiness every day.  I mean every day!  Did I mention every freaking day of her life? She is so damn happy, that I want to throttle her at times.  Of course I wouldn’t because that would be paramount to the evil Queen giving Snow White a poisonous apple and since she has a large number of dwarfs and happy animals surrounding her, they would probably drop me like the sack of potatoes I am! 

 

I am not jealous, I tell ya!  Seriously, I am not (okay maybe a bit, but just a teeny tiny little minuscule amount).  And I just keep thinking to myself, that it can’t be normal, can it? Perhaps,  she is just sucking back some vodka infused lollipops every day and walks around with a goofy smile on her face that everyone interprets as happiness! And perhaps all her gooey rainbow happiness status lines on facebook, is nothing more than the silly verbiage of liquored up woman! 

 

In any event, this is where I step in and tell you, that this person is nowhere near my persona.  I am anything but, and this week has proved to all those around me that there are days that I put the “ass” in crabass.  Sorry to those who do not like swearing, please avert your eyes, I don’t swear often in my posts and would hate to offend any of you lovelies. 

 

The gist is, I want to gripe here but I am having a problem in doing that, simply because I look at my blog as a place to practice my writing, as a place to get better with my writing, as a place to grow in my writing.  It’s just my lovely little place in the blogosphere. 

 

But I am breaking the rules today, and here I go (now if you don’t like rants, can I kindly suggest that this is the moment you should go and check out another blog): 

 

Please do not ask me to work on a project for three consecutive days and finally get it organized between three lawyers, a Judge, a Doctor, three court houses, a video service and camera man and then cancel it the next day. 

 

Please do not ask me to hold your mocha while we are driving, and peal back the lid and have the foam splatter my face and clothes and wonder why I won’t talk to you for an hour. 

 

Please don’t tell me that you will take a certain amount on an item you have on ebay and have me submit the offer, only then to make me wait two full long agonizing days before you accept it, just on the off chance you might get a better offer. 

 

Please do not call me at 11:30 a.m. on a work day and tell me that someone else wants to look at my house, and tell me to go home on my lunch hour (via taxi) to clean my house, and then take a taxi back to work, to then take a taxi back home after work to get my dog out of there before 5:05 p.m. to accommodate a potential buyer who is RETIRED and can come at any time!!! 

 

Please do not arrange a viewing of another house for me to look at and then cancel it five minutes before I am suppose to be there! 

 

Please do not give me extra onions and no pickles on my sandwich after I asked very nicely for no onions and extra pickles. 

 

Please do not give me a mascara and tell me its not waterproof and then I spend the next two hours in my bathroom trying to peel off the mascara that is obviously waterproof. 

 

But mostly:  Please do not wake me up on a Sunday morning to tell me you want to look at my house and make me leave my house for five hours while you keep postponing your viewing and then tell my realtor that you want to offer me what I paid for it 6 years ago at the base price before I paid the provincial tax on my then new house, before my upgrades, before the built ins, before I put appliances in, before I put custom blinds in, before I put a built in vacuum system in, before I put an alarm system in, before I had custom built ins put in my living room and den, before I had custom lighting put in, before I landscaped it, before I put a fence up and I before I had a pergola put in. Because nothing ticks me off more than someone who wants to buy my house $118,000.00 under the assessed value and wants me throw in $50,000.00 in upgrades!!!! 

 

Oh my gosh, I think I feel better! 

 

Hey??? Maybe I can be rosie and sunshiny all the time! 

 

Yea right!!! Who am I kidding!

 

All hail the Queen of the Crabasses! 

 

Long Live my Reign!

FALL FLUTTERS

Summer came in a whisper and went out just as gracefully.  I opened my eyes to the sun and soaked in the warmth of it all.  I adore this time of year when summer runs into fall leaving an indelible warmth in my bones that carries me forward towards the harsh wet winters on the west coast.

My lush green garden has become over grown, my flowers have become straggly and weedy, and finally the growth of the hair on my legs has slowed down to a snail’s pace leaving me the need to only have to shave them every few days or so.  Yes, it is true my body runs with the seasons and so does my heart.

Never being one to love the parched direct heat of the summer months, I have found that as I get older, I now look forward to July and August perched within my well worn lawn chair.  I love those moments watching the clouds sail on by, reverting to my five year old self in an attempt to see faces and figures in the pillowy softness of the sky. 

We are experiencing an “indian” summer, if that is even politically correct to say anymore.  Warmth is in an abundance, my garden is still producing veggies and fruit, flowers strain to give a few last blooms and the insect life is in full autumn mode in an attempt to gather their last feasts before the inevitable rains knock the remaining vegetation to the ground.

For me, I enjoy this time of year with how the air changes and brings with it a distinctive smoke-filled hazy scent that reminds me of roaring fires from my youth.  Nesting creeps up upon me and I feel the need to bake and cook and hunker down for the cold winter nights. 

Quietly, I wander out on my lunch hour and head for the local bookstore gathering my necessary reads that will see me through the next several months.  I stock up on bubble baths and soaking salts for those moments later this year when I rush into the house frozen to the bone and emerge myself into a steaming bath full of flavourful scents and aromas. Oh, how I can already feel the sweet scented warm water as I let out that deep “ahhhhh” after the first foot in.

Moments of cuddling with my little pooch on our couch under soft warm inviting covers and evenings in my bed as I quietly inch my way over to soak up some of that arab heat that emanates from my better half’s body.

Creamy hot chocolates and chai tea lattes are already calling my name and deep within some suppressed memory, I can smell my mother’s spaghetti sauce bubbling and boiling on the overworked stove.

I look forward to that moment when the first set of maple leaves fall to the ground leaving me to crunch my way through them, or that first fall wind which is neither warm nor cold, but carries the last sweet infusion of earth before she closes her shop up for the winter.

Yes, I am in love with the amazing beauty of fall.  But more importantly, I am in love with how fall sets my heart aflutter.

Until Next time.

Cheers
Tracy

It's the Great Postcard Campaign Charlie Brown!!!!

Tis true my lovely friends... The witty JDay over at The Ramblings of Charlie Brown started the Great Postcard Campaign of 2011.

The gist, everyone who signs up, is assigned a month to send out postcards to everyone on the list in order to connect without the aid of social media.

The purpose: well trying to find a way to reconnect with each other on a more personal level.

I received my first postcard last month, and this month, it is my turn to send them out.  

Can I tell you that I had the worst time in the world trying to find generic postcards!  Secondly, I am so not use to writing very often and I needed an icepack and some good old pain cream to rub into my shoulder after all that freaking writing!  And thirdly, I, believe it or not, was stumped on what to write! Good grief Charlie Brown!!!!

Lastly, I think it will be fun... so if you haven't already, go on and skip over to JDay and sign up and be a part of connecting with other individuals from other countries, but for PITY SAKE PEOPLE, please sign up in October, I already did my freaking post cards and I can no longer feel my fingers!!!!

And on a side, I want to thank Ruth at Welcome to Me and The Frisky Virgin for both passing on such lovely awards to me! You two are way too kind *blush*!

Finally, I am going to be slightly AWOL over the next few weeks, or at the very least, blogging sporadically. This is a crazy busy time at work, lawyers and trials, you get my drift.  And already I want to pack my bags and head for the high country... Anybody want to put me up?

Will hopefully resume normal programming in the very near future, or, if not, send a search team out for me, you will most likely find me licking out the contents of a margarita drink pitcher in a dark back alley tearfully whining "why me, why me", whilst I scratch my head with my now permanently "postcardwritingitis" claw-like hand!

Cheers for now

Tracy

GET YOUR DANCING SHOES ON.... IT'S FRIDAY!!!!!!!

It’s Friday and I want to do a happy dance!  Yes, an all out jig around my office, except that I am worried that some of my wiggly parts may take out a few objects here and there, but what the hell, I am going to jiggle and wiggle around this office until I am out of breath, sweating profusely, laying on the floor and panting like I just had the best night of my life.  Just wait there... I will be back in five!

Okay, I am back and it felt good. Really good, even those wiggly parts that may have been bruised from slamming into a couple of walls still feel good too.

What is it about Fridays that just brings out the best of the best in energy and emotions?  For most of us working slobs, nine to five, five days a week can seem somewhat tedious and mundane.  And while I am not knocking my job, sometimes I think it would be just spectacular if my job was shift work because it would certainly help break up what has become an unfortunate monotonous routine.

I suppose it is all about attitude.  I have always been grateful to have a job even jobs in the past that I absolutely abhorred. Even with the worst employers, I was still grateful to be able to put a roof over my head, food on my plate and have a social life outside of my work environment.

As I get older however and closer to the possibility of retirement, I find that Monday thru Friday seems to drag on and on and I relish in the idea of more time off.  Is this the fault of my job, absolutely not.  But it is my fault for not working as hard on my personal life as I do in my professional life. In my 20's, I was a social butterfly and it seemed that every night after work I was going somewhere and doing something and it made my career choice bearable and my life enjoyable.  But as I have gotten older, I seem to have lost some of my twenty something "umpf" and replaced it with my forty something "ugh". And I now tend to leave my social gatherings, if I socialize at all, till the weekends making my work week seem very long indeed.

You see the biggest problem is that my better half and I have fallen into this “homebody” routine.  We go to work, come home, play with our pooch, make dinner, clean up, play on the computer, watch some tv and go to bed.  It’s like a bad repeat of a terrible TV show that’s gone into syndication when it should have been canceled years ago.  Complacency people.  I have spoken about this before.  Complacency is the culprit that breeds disinterest and lack of enthusiasm.  It’s there like a weed growing around your brain that seriously needs to be plucked and I need to pluck our complacency before it becomes a permanent fixture in our everyday life.

Last night we started. We invited some really nice friends out for dinner and with them just accepting the invitiation, they unknowingly assisted us by helping us to throw out our usual routine. Albeit, it was one day before the weekend, but the fact remains it wasn't on a weekend and it broke up our tiresome  repetitiousness.  And you know, I enjoyed going out, and what's more, I had forgotten what it was like to socialize beyond the confines of the constraints I had self imposed upon myself and my better half. And even better, I just checked my whining, my pain, my fatigue and my complacency at the door and enjoyed the evening out with our great friends.

It's a small step, but small steps lead to big steps and before you know it, I will be donning those dancing shoes and wiggling and jiggling any time I want too! And that people, is what I am aiming for.

Until Next Time.

Tracy

A Love Letter.....

Dear James:

Eight years ago today, we met on a sunny Friday evening at a campsite just outside of my home town.  By all accounts, it was a rocky blind date full of awkward moments, uncomfortable silences, and each of us staring off into distant lands. Who knew that this moment would eventually lead into the solid foundation that brings us here today.

I still remember you, you know, frozen there in time.  You stood there a significant foot taller than me, wearing jeans and a white polo shirt, your dark set of curls matched your swarthy good arab looks and you had done all that you could to hide the emotions in your eyes in fear of another heartache. I searched for you that night in your eyes.  I strained to find out the man you were. You gave nothing away. I left feeling unsatisfied. 

You made me work for your trust and your heart and there were moments when I was ready to throw up my arms and walk away. And then finally as I held my breath, brick by brick your defences came down, and you gave me you. Not a small amount, but your entire being. You reminded me that our relationship was worth fighting for.

Now the years have come and gone, some so quickly that I reach out in a desperate attempt to hold onto the memory.  Others so painful that I wish they would leave my heart as quickly as they entered.  We have grown you and I.  From awkward and terrified to easy moments and laughter.

Your handsome looks still take my breath away. And while I can still see the man you were eight years ago, it is the man you are now that thrills me to the core.

You have seen me at my worst. Those terrible moments where I am on my proverbial knees begging and pleading for pain relief, and I, in turn, have seen you on your knees holding me and comforting me in those unforgettable moments.

You have held on tightly to my suitcase when I wanted to runaway from my life in a hope to leave my pain behind.  You have made me step up and face it, even when I didn’t want to breathe in one more moment of this life. 

We have weathered storms ones that others would never understand. We have stood beside each other through ups and downs, side by side and all without any regrets.

We have driven each other nuts by our anal retentive natures and have matched each other by temper to temper, stubbornness to stubbornness and laughter to laughter.  We have had water fights, and snowball fights to wedgie wars that brutalized our poor bottoms.

We have cried at losses and we have cried over happiness.

We have grown stronger and deeper, and we have done this together.

And while others may think we are crazy, the fact is, we are just crazy for each other.

And while we breathe separately, when necessary, our hearts blend together to beat as one.

You are my rock.

And you know, nothing is more beautiful than the love that has weathered the storms of life.

And, when all is said done, you have stolen my heart James, and it really only ever was yours for the taking.

Happy Anniversary my love.

Tracy

It only took 18 years to get there

Have you ever had a pivotal moment in life. One that felt so profound that it took your breath away or where your heart skipped a beat in anticipation over something you couldn’t quite comprehend?

I have and this past Saturday, was my day.

My mom and I had decided to finally catch the latest and last Harry Potter flick about an hour away from home. I had been looking forward to it for some time.

Strangely though, I had woken up somewhat on the sad side that morning. And what was worse, is that I wasn’t quite sure why. The sun was out, it was a beautiful day and my loveable pooch was all wiggly happy as per his usual self. In my mind, I couldn’t wait to get up and get going, but in my heart I felt disturbed.

As I drove to my mom’s place, I could feel my face grow hot as tears welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I felt at a lost as I couldn’t figure out the reason why.

Finding composure, I pushed it from my mind, crawled into my mom’s car where I aimlessly stared out the window at the scenery going by on our way to the show.

In a moment, I will never forget, a surge of panic hit me so hard that it knocked the breath out of me. It was a moment that made my heart miss a beat. My chest grew instantly tight and my heart hurt so much that I couldn’t breathe. I could feel panic spreading to every fibre of my being. My mind raced and raced around and I felt frightened of my future. A number flashed before my eyes. It was the number 18.

It was the number of years I had been living with chronic pain. It was the number of years of adventures that chronic pain had stolen from me. It was 18 years of pain free living that I had not experienced. It was 18 years of declining invitations or bowing out of things at the last moment because I hurt so much. Eighteen years of ice packs, pain medications, and heating pads. Eighteen years of massage therapy, physiotherapy and acupuncture. Eighteen years of constant research on how to live a pain free life. Eighteen years of doctors and specialists. Eighteen years of getting up stiff and sore and walking like an old woman. Eighteen years of moments lying in beds unable to move. Eighteen years of wishing I was like other women my age. Eighteen years of being jealous of people riding their bikes, or running or walking or living. Eighteen years of being too scared to try different things in case they aggravated my injuries. Eighteen years of pushing myself and suffering the consequences. Eighteen years of giving up dreams I had. Eighteen years. Eighteen years. Oh my gawd, it was 18 years of my life.

Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, and in my panic, I searched for what I wanted to say that would describe exactly how I felt at that moment, that translated all that I felt, that said what my heart was screaming, but the only thing that bubbled out from my lips as I looked at my mom was “is this my life?”

I couldn’t tell you what my mom had said to me, as my pulse was beating so hard in my ears that I couldn’t hear her.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and let out a long sad sigh and realized that I was mourning. I was mourning for me. I was morning for the Tracy at age 25 and for the Tracy at age 32 and mostly for the Tracy at age 43 who was sitting there reflecting with sadness on the losses of her life. I finally let myself feel those losses that I had so neatly tucked away as far from me as possible. Those losses that haunted me and that perhaps if I actually confronted would do more damage to me than the chronic pain had.

I went home that night tired and drained and sat staring at my blog wanting to pour my heart out, but frightened to put it into writing. And as I sat there staring at the monitor, I let Tracy have a very long hard cry. I let her mourn, I told her it was okay to feel sorry for herself. I told her she could have that moment as it was hers to own and then I told her that she would have to move on.

As I write this though, I can tell you that I still feel raw and teary some two days later, but I suppose that grieving for the things I cannot have or cannot do is all part of the healing process, well at least for me anyways. 

And to think, it only took me 18 years to get there.

Until Next Time.

Tracy

Weebles Wobble but they don’t fall down: My Week in Review

This Weeble has had quite a week and while I would love to bore you right into a snooze fest with all the gory details and specifics, I thought that perhaps point form would work best. And since I can't remember Monday, which is probably a good thing, the rest of the week was as follows:

- On Tuesday, I ordered chicken strips and salad with a side of curry sauce for my chicken.  As I was walking back into my office parking lot, I dropped the curry sauce and it exploded like a bloody grenade!  I had curry from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.  I spent the next hour in my office kitchen exposing my lily white, chubby body donned in a black bra, turquoise and black polka dotted underwear and my goofy orthopaedic runners and sport socks whilst I scrubbed my clothes.  Can you imagine if you walked in on something like that!  Besides running out screaming for your life, I am betting you would be scratching at your eyes screaming “I’m blinded! I’m blinded!”

- Later on Tuesday, a client came in to talk to me, she kept avoiding eye contact with me and then finally she said “ummm Tracy and pointed to her nose”.  Horrified, I pulled out my mirror and saw that I had a clump of curry hanging out of my nostril! Nothing like trying to explain to your client that it was not a booger in your nose! And yes, she did walk away from me very quickly like I had rabies!  Ugh!

- Wednesday, I decided to go the safe route and buy some sushi for lunch.  After I popped a piece into my mouth, I rubbed my eye forgetting that there was some wasabi on my fingertip!  Yes I jumped out of my seat, said a crap load of unlady like profanities, followed by a crazy body dance and then my eye proceeded to water like a faucet, leaving me with mascara and eye make-up on one eye only!

- Wednesday night, I went for a waxing and moved my head at the wrong time and lost a small part of my eyebrow! Please grow back please grow back!

- Thursday, I was eating strawberries when I realized I had a seed stuck between my teeth.  After an agonizing 20 minutes of not being able to get the little sucker out, I looked in my office drawer and found a thumb tack that I could use as a dental pick and accidentally stabbed my lower lip! There is a plus side to this one though. My lip swelled right up for 10 hours and I looked like I had a sexy pout going on!  I might have to accidentally stab my lip again for future sexy lip looks!

- And I won’t elaborate on Friday, as it’s not quite over and let’s face it, I am afraid too!

One thing is for sure, this Weeble may wobble, but she isn’t going to let anything make her fall down (because apparently I can do that ALL by myself)! 

Have a fantabulous, safe, non exploding weekend!

Cheers to all of you!

Tracy