Friday, September 23, 2016

I Contradicted A Doc

I don't know if you fathom the extend of such a sentence and act. I actually told a doctor that i disagreed with his diagnosis!
To be clearer, i disagree with my gynecologist's start date of my pregnancy hence my supposed due date and therefore, that my baby is not in the norm size-wise.

Needless to say that in order to actually speak out and tell him/her that you think (s)he actually made a mistake, you have to use a massive amount of tact. Medical staff don't like regular folks like myself telling them: sorry, not sorry, i don't agree with that.

As i mentionned it in an earlier post, my still in-utero baby is small. She's growing well so far but she's under the regular line of growth. Docs are estimating that she's between 10 and 15 days late. It's nothing you'll say, just like i thought as well, except that on a span of 9 months, it's quite a fair amount of time. Except that i disagree with them all on the starting of the pregnancy date. MY date being at least a week later than their. Actually between 7 and 10 days later than what they calculated. 

Obviously, pregnancy, conception times and due dates are not exact science unless you've had an IVF which wasn't my case. 

I mentionned it a few times to the many docs i've seen so far but i never felt heard. So i was like, yeah, well, whatever, i know they're off by at least a week, i'm not gonna worried about this all "too small" thing.
Except that i am tired. I'm exhausted. I could sleep pretty much all day and having to go back and forth to the hospital for monitoring the baby and ultrasound at least once if not twice a week is draining the little energy i have left out of me.
So when i saw my ob/gyn last Monday, i told myself, i HAVE to tell him that i disagree with him, i HAVE to get that load off of my shoulder and maybe, just maybe, he'll realize that yes, my baby is indeed a tiny baby but she's in between the regular growth lines and just fine.

Deep breath.

I used all my ingenuity and tact to tell him just that. I was actually pretty happy with the way it came out. And i was even happier with the way he reacted. He listened to me, double checked his measures and calculation, entered the measurements he did that day along with MY estimated date (8 days later than his) and printed the growth graph. 

And guess what?

It changed nothing. 


The baby is still smaller than what she'd expected to be at the age she has. Whether she's 30 or 31 weeks old, she's still too small.
Which means that i'll still get monitored most likely every week until the end of my pregnancy, that i'll still get to see a ob/gyn every other week and even with all these precautions, i'll still most likely get a tiny baby. 

What worries me now? That she actually stops growing and that they have to trigger the birth a lot earlier than planned. Which might happen actually. 

Or she's just a happy go lucky tiny baby who has her mom already worrying for nothing!

End of it all, you should always say what you have weighing on your heart. It might not change the outcome of the situation but in my case, it surely eased my concerns that the hospital might do with me and my baby something that is not necessary. As i said, in my situation, it doesn't change much. But at least i've unloaded this off of my shoulders.
And it felt good.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

No, No and No

I'm pregnant. Scratch that. I'm very pregnant. And by very pregnant i mean that i am finishing my 6th month of pregnancy so needless to say, i can't pretend no more that i'm not. It shows. It bloody well shows. Politician belly, porn star boobs, the balance of a new born calf and the swollen limbs of a hippopotamus. Sexiness in all its glory.

Maybe it looks beautiful on the outside but the feeling ain't beautiful whatsoever. I feel bloated, i huff and puff after climbing up a flight of stairs, it takes me an hour to recover from vacuuming my bedroom, i can't find a decent position to sleep, my gums are bleeding every time i brush my teeth, my belly button is about to pop out (gasp) and my bladder is the size of a nut. On the plus side, so is my stomach (the size of a nut) so i'm extremely quickly satiated. Extremely quickly hungry again but oh well.

I'm not gonna go through the entire load of details that my pregnancy has been so far. My baby isn't in the norm size-wise so needless to say i had to endure quite a fair amount of extra exams to make sure it's normal (physically and genetically) and growing. Long story short, it's a little girl and she's just that: little. A perfectly healthy tiny little baby girl. 
What the doctors at both hospitals i'm followed up at don't know because they don't want to listen is that their supposed conception date is wrong. It's a least a week off. 
Estimated conception time: February 27th.
I can tell you it's definitely not that day that our little shrimp was made. 
100% sure of that.
But anyways. Norms, norms and more norms. Get out of them and there are protocols to be followed and there i was with blood testing and amniocentesis and ultrasound every 2 weeks and so on.

She's fine. My baby's fine. She's alive and kicking. Oh yeah. She is so very much kicking all the time. That's one thing i actually like about pregnancy. When you feel the baby kicking.

But the point of that post today was about my belly. Read that again. I wrote MY belly. I didn't write "the" belly, i didn't write "a" belly, i wrote MY belly. Because it is just that. It's mine. And mine only. 
WHY ON FREAKING EARTH is that people think that because you're pregnant, your belly becomes public domain. Why is that when people greet you, they think it's appropriate to rub your belly? Do you rub the belly of a guy? Do you rub someone's anything apart from a pregnant belly? 
No you don't.
For crying out loud it is so freaking intrusive. I HATE IT.
Oh hi, how is the baby? Bam, belly rub. The baby is not gonna answer you, not now, not for another few years actually and less of it all when it's still inside the womb. Why don't you rub my man's package while you're at it? It did half the job after all!

I asked the question to several of my friends who've had children already and they all experienced the same thing. Some of them told me stuff that are plain dreadful! I swear i will never touch the belly of a pregnant woman unless invited to do so (and even though, i still think it's a weird thing to do), just like i won't ask people why don't they have kids yet (you never know what they might have been through) and personal stuff like these.
People have no concept of private space.

I might be getting a tad paranoid but every time i meet someone, i hold my hands in front of my stomach. When they try to do the belly rub but find my hands instead, it's like instant back off. It's like my hands are burning them. And it's awesome because that's exactly what i'm trying to do: to make them back off of me without actually being rude. 

If you have any other tips to prevent that from happening, considering it's still blazing hot so we're all only wearing a few items of clothing, i'm all ears!

Oh My

It's been so long it's embarrassing. The reason behind it is quite simple it's mainly laziness. OK, it's purely laziness. It's not like nothing happens to me that isn't worth writing about but i don't know, it's a massive struggle for me. I have to do violence to myself to do whatever requires an effort. Even if it's something i actually enjoy. Writing is something i truly enjoy but just the thought of connecting to my blog, writing something and publishing it, oh my, massive amount of laziness.
I wish i had the self-discipline a friend of mine has writing in her blog twice a week every single week of the year. The same self-discipline my man shows to exercise every day of the week. I wish i had that will power but let's be honest, at almost 40 years old, it's most likely not gonna change any time soon.

So here it is for the little apologetic post. And off i am to writing a few more!

See the reason behind it all? SEE?

Thursday, March 03, 2016

My Rainbow Friends

I have gay friends. It's actually an understatement, i have tons of gay friends. When i was living in Mexico, most of my closest friends were gay. I wasn't making an effort for this, I don't know, i seem to naturally attract gay people. And the reason behind this is that it probably shows that whether you're gay or straight, or Black, or White, or Latino, a girl, a boy, tall, short, fat, skinny or riding a unicorn, i couldn't give a bigger fuck. I mean that has GOT to show somehow. 

In Mexico, and in Puerto Vallarta in particular (gayest Mexican destination apparently), people don't seem to mind gay people. At least, it didn't seem that way to me. I remember on my last job, two of my colleagues came out to me (separately) and i guess my answer to both was "ok, and?". I mean, really, does you being gay change something to the story you're telling me right now? Because a) i knew already and b) it doesn't make any difference. Not to me anyway. If i liked you before, chances are i'm still going to like you afterwards.

Same when a French friend of mine i found out on FB after years without any news from him wrote me back with a rather aggressive tone (or so it seemed in his mail) that he was gay and there, i had it. So i answered him in what i hope was a nice way by saying that he could very well be and do whatever the hell he wanted, i was just happy to have news from him and that was all my message was about. I wasn't fishing for intimate details of his personal life. I think it kinda shock him a bit. I mean, me being so accepting.

That's only when i got back to France and talked about it with my man that i realized (or was made to realize) that not everybody is like me, oh dear, far from it, and that in France in general, it is still quite a taboo. Something people try to avoid mentioning and if they really have to, always do so reluctantly and/or despisingly. 

Well to me, this behavior is shocking.

End of it all, gays are just human beings. Sometimes, yes, they do fall into the stereotypes of the drama queen and the truck driver but seriously, seeing a guy (OK a drag) wearing 25cm heels and dancing in them better than i can ever do with flats should put everybody in their rightful place.

I love my gay friends (as much as i love my straight friends). I remember one day, one of them told me that it was so relaxing for him to chat with me cuz i wasn't making judgements on anything he'd ever say. As i told him, well, if you ask my opinion about something, i will give it to you even if i know it's not what you'd like to hear. But i believe that's what friends are for. You'll always find tons of people ready to criticize your every move, so for me, being a friend is to stand by you. Period. I'm not saying that you should blissfully agree on everything your friends do or say, sometimes, everybody needs a little reality check, but your sexual orientation will never have anything to do with how i feel about you.

And i believe that as long as what your neighbor does with his/her life doesn't affect your life, your liberty and your safety/health, then why the heck should you care about it?

I understand that it must be so hard for people to come out. And i'm sorry to say that my homecountry of France is no exception to this. It shouldn't be that way. You don't decide one morning that oh, nice weather, let's be gay today. No. It's like your eyes color or your skin tone. You're born that way (no pun intented and no Lady Gaga quote either even if the song is stuck in my head now ...) It broke my heart last year when, at a friend's gathering (class of ... kinda reunion, 15 years without seing eachother for the most of us), my previously mentioned gay friend was never asked how his life was going. I mean we all knew he's gay. It's not a disease, it's not contagious. I was the only one sitting with him and asking him, so how's life going for you? Your travels, your job, your love life, you're seeing someone? Oh, you mean that guy i always see yourself pictured with is not your man but a friend, ok, cool. Sorry you had your heart broken last year, the right guy will come up, just like for the rest of us ;) Everybody wants to be accepted. And asking him the same questions i asked my girl friend some time prior was a natural for me. And i can say that he was only too pleased to answer me.

sorry couldn't help 3:) jijiji

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Kunkush the Iraqi Cat

This morning, i read about the story of an Iraqi refugee family who took their beloved cat as they fled their home country. They had to cross several countries, take several boats and somewhere on the way, the cat got scared and they got separated. At that point of the story, my stomach constricted. I honestly only read the story because the title of the article was saying something like "happy ending for a refugee cat". I can't take violence, pain, suffering or heart-breaking stories when it comes to animals. 
I can't even begin to imagine how it must have felt for them. Well long story short, some vets/association in Greece actually found the cat and i don't know how, managed to find who its family was and tracked it down all the way up to Norway.

Poor cat was the center of attention obviously as all the medias were there to capture that moment, with flashes and mics and cameras and shit. He looked terrified but as soon as he got in the arms of his owner (who was in tears by the way, and at that point, so was I!), he seemed to relax and be at peace with the world. 
Happy ending.
Tears of joy.
Life is good.

This cat truly reminded me of my own cat Yeti. Not only because he's white also but because he's holding on to mommy dearest. It also reminded me how it felt when i dropped my 3 cats at the airport, worrying like crazy on how they'd do during that endless flight from Mexico to Paris. I also recalled the moment i stepped foot on French grounds only thinking about getting my cats back. I honestly couldn't have care less about my luggage at that point. I just wanted to see my cats. And we're talking hours. This family didn't know anything about their cats for MONTHS.

I was told I'd get them on the bulky luggage's carousel and i rushed there like a maniac. I heard them meowing from what seemed miles away but astonishingly, the second they saw me, they stopped. We were finally reunited, i hadn't abandoned them and it was good. Life was good.

After reading this story this morning, i looked at all my 3 stray Mexican cats and made the same pinky promise i did 3 years ago: i will never leave them behind. 





Saturday, February 20, 2016

47 Hours 39 Minutes

That would be the amount of time (sorry, i didn't check the seconds) that I've been without a computer. And I believe me knowing the exact amount of time I've been without speaks for itself. I haven't been without an Internet connection since we live in a world of medias and cellphones. I can access Internet with my cellphone and/or my man's computer but it's not quite the same thing as on my personal laptop.
Apart from being my way of connecting to the outside world, my laptop is, with my camera, my most precious belonging. Because I'd say my entire life is on it. I have pictures of a long gone time, pictures I know for sure I'm the only one having since I've never shared them with anybody, i have years of work paperwork, texts I've written, tons of music, a few videos and well, you know, stuff i care about. And a few days ago, the tragedy, my laptop is on but not on. I mean it all acts and sounds like it's on and running except that well, it's not: black screen and all. And i can't turn it off.
I took it to the computer's hospital yesterday, some guy's company judiciously called S.O.S. 16 (France is divided in states called "départements" and they each have a number related to how they place alphabetically). The surgeon took it and told me he'd let me know. If my laptop is dead, well, so be it, but i truly want my data back.

I'm not foreseeing the worse. I will get an external hard-drive to stock all my shit on as soon as i get it back and then i promise I'll take better care of my next computer, or this very same laptop when/if i get it back alive and kicking, trying not to eat and/or drink too close not to drop anything on it, I'll carry it in a proper case (not in my handbag) and well, give it the reverence it truly deserves.

On a side note, it's amazing how much time you have and how much things you can actually do when you're not glued to your screen. I've read two books, did some gardening, completed several sudoku and actually took time to write a few texts the old fashion way: with a pen and a paper. I think i might actually be a computer/Internet addict.


Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Scar? What Scar?

Just saying ...

This is what my hand looks like 6 months later ... You can't even tell. 
Massive thanks to the hand surgeon who did that amazing job. 

Saturday, January 09, 2016

The Day I Should Have Become A Mother

I took me a while to convince myself this was the right thing to do. Because it was a very challenging ordeal and honestly, i feel that I've had quite my shares of those already. 
There's no soft way of saying this so i'm gonna throw it on there just like it was, just the way it felt when i understood what was happening: i had a miscarriage. 6 months ago, i lost a baby that was so very much desired and wanted and today was my supposed due date.

I've heard and read that losing a child is the worse possible ordeal a parent can go through. I've seen my parents going through hell and 3 years later, i'm not even sure they're back from it. Life goes on though. I might say, maybe out of spite, maybe to reassure myself, that it was probably better to lose the baby (for lack of a better word since i don't feel like calling it a fetus, i saw its beating heart) 10 weeks into the pregnancy than having to abort it because of a malformation or having a still born but still. 10 weeks into a pregnancy, 1 week shy of my first trimester's ultrasound, trust me, we already had quite some time to get around the idea that it had finally worked out and we were going to welcome 2016 in style, with a baby. 

Not so fast.

I'd be lying if i said i wasn't affected by it. Or that my man wasn't affected by it. We cried our eyes out, for days, and even months later, there are moments that are hard. Since i miscarried, i heard about 6 pregnancies, amongst which my sister in law's who told us a mere 3 weeks after we had lost ours. And hearing her telling us lightly that it was an accident, i honestly could have crucified her. Sorry if i'm not over the moon with the announcement, we lost ours 3 weeks ago, i had to go through a clinical abortion to clean my uterus of any residual baby stuff so not quite my happy little self right now.
Needless to say i called my mom right after i heard that news and crucified her on the phone. And again, my mother, amidst all the flaws that she might have, said something wise that brought me some kind of peace of mind.
She told me that my sister in law might be the biggest bitch walking this planet, she is absolutely NOT responsible in any way of what happened to me. And she was right. It's nobody's fault. My man used to work in Quality Management and used a sentence that was spot on: faulty piece, destruction mode on.

One out of 5 pregnancies ends in a miscarriage. Odds are the same each time you're pregnant. Meaning that it's not because you lost a child before the pregnancy term that you're safe for the next 4. It doesn't make it any easier but it kinda help put things into perspective. 
We talked about it with friends and we were shocked to see how many of them came out with similar stories. Whereas it happened to them directly, to a sibling, a cousin or a close friend, not a single one of them haven't experience a miscarriage. Why is it still such a taboo? No idea.

I guess a miscarriage is, in some ways, like giving birth. Nobody ever tells you all the gory details about it. So here i am for just this!
10 weeks into my pregnancy, i started bleeding one evening, called French 911 panicking, decided to wait up until the following morning and woke my man up at 6am to ask him to take me to the ER. Waited there 4 hours crying my eyes out after an intern had examined me but couldn't tell me anything cuz you know, he's just an intern. Then the OB/GYN who had been called on an emergency c-section confirmed my biggest fear, i had lost it. Not my mind, but the baby (even though i was very close to lose my mind as well). Honestly, he was awesome. We arranged, between rivers of tears, an appointment for the surgery for the following week, i had to take pills to start the job (it's pills you take when you want to abort), bled for an entire week like I've never bled before (grossest periods ever), got under anesthesia, got the procedure done and was out of the hospital the same day. The pads they gave you in the hospital are almost as thick as adult diapers. Never in my entire life had i bled that much. It was like my body was catching up on the 2 months i hadn't had my periods and making me pay interests on this as well. Jeez. I had a 3 WEEKS long periods. 
A month later, everything was back to normal with my cycle.

I'm not writing all of this to get sympathy. This is so not my thing. I'm writing this to get closure. The cycle of it all is done. I got pregnant, miscarried and then my due date came and went. End of story.

We keep on trying. Every month. It's hard not to think about it, not to focus on what date is supposedly good, not to fuck with the sole purpose of reproducing. It's hard. We know it works. And as my man said, if we can't have one on our own, there are many options that can work for us. But we'll be parents one day. Some bad ass parents with a 8th wonder of the world of our own...

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Update on ... THE WOUND

I love it when i'm over dramatic!! But since a lot of people have actually inquired on how i am and how my wound is going, i thought i might just write a little update on my bad ass looking scar.

Stitches went off on Friday, so 5 days ago. Out of the 8 stitches, 3 of them were a bit more painful to extract but over all, it went just fine. My hand was covered over the week end for the sole reason that i attended my cousin's wedding and there was no way i wasn't getting any attention **laughs**. Seriously, i needed a reminder that my wound was still very fresh and a bandage did just that. Knowing how clumsy i am, without it, i might just have hit the scar or the inside of my hand and reopen the wound. 

However, when on Sunday night, i got rid of both the band aid and the bandage, holy sweet mother of god, what a relief. To begin with, i was FINALLY able to take a shower without wrapping my hand in a plastic bag and scrub the outside part of my hand that was covered in this yellowish second skin looking film of antiseptic. All of the sudden, both my hands had the same color again. Niiiiice.

Since then, let's be honest, the recovery has been going slowly but surely. I can use my hand almost normally, even though i'm still careful with it. There is a spot in the middle of the scar which still is sensitive and i don't have as much strenght in it as i used to. So i'm trying to use it as much as i can so as to rehabilitate it faster but i've just read online that a stitched up wound can take months to recover. Even the doctor said last week that my file for this particular accident will be open for 3 months.

I put lotion on it often so it smoothes the skin which is calloused around the wound. I mean even if it stays that way, it'll be in a part of the hand that is callous anyway so oh well. The only down side of this, apart from that sensitive area, is that i still don't know what the heck my middle finger is doing. Hopefully, nothing obscene! **laughs**

my bad ass looking scar \m/

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Green Thumb!

I've always been pretty good with plants but lately, it's not been that good. Quite frankly, i can even say it's been quite a disaster. I've managed to lost quite a few cactus (seriously, how did that happen?), a few plants that i've bought got either too much water or not enough, either too much sun or not enough but bottom line is that they're all dead. And that's without mentioning the veggies i planted which were growing good and then from one day to another, just shriveled up and rot. Nor the countless seeds i planted that didn't even pretend to grow.

I know plants are not like pieces of furniture: they need time, attention and care. At least most of them. I'm only blaming myself, and maybe a serie of bad luck that i've been going through lately. I've been extremely busy at work, i haven't taken the time to take proper care of my beloved plants, i've been exhausted and recently, unable to use one of my hands, my left one obviously, so not a very good gardener all together.

This morning, since i'm still stuck at home for another week because of mentioned wounded hand, i decided to do some long needed dusting. And when i made it to the shelf where my plants are, i noticed that some of them needed watering. 
I've always had orchids because i think they're just beautiful plants but unfortunately, i've never been lucky with flowers, less of it with orchids and they've all died on me. Since we moved in where we're currently living, i got myself an orchid at the local supermarket for something like €5. A beautiful dark pink almost purple tiny orchid. I had it for several weeks when naturally, the flowers dried up and died. I then decided to cut the stem on which the flowers had grown and kept the plant hydrated. And it's been standing still for months. 

Up until this morning, when i noticed this:

My orchid has a new growing leaf, which gives me high hopes on it blossoming again sometime in the future. I can't believe i've actually managed to get an orchid growing again. Has my wheel of bad luck with plants finally turned? Am i getting my green thumb again?

In a few more months, we'll be living in my man's grandfather's house. There is a massive garden and 2 gigantic balconies. I'll finally get room for more plants and most important: the proper sun exposure for them. Can't wait!

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

I Can Clip My Nails Again!

I can also put toothpaste on my toothbrush, i can cut my meat with a knife, i can drive my car, i can tie my shoelaces and attach my bra. No big deal you're gonna say. WRONG. It is a HUGE deal. Don't ever take these amazing abilities of yours for granted. 

You might remember that at the begining of July, i lost a wheel in the field hence couldn't continue on working the land and went back to give a hand to the Boss and my colleague in installing a sewage system. That's when i took the "give a hand" a tad too literally. Long story short, my hand got poked by a 1.2 tons tank against a sharp piece of metal while we were bringing down said tank into the hole we just dug.

Excruciating pain, profuse bleeding, during the fraction of second it took me to grab my hand and actually looking at it, i was convinced i had only the thumb left on my left hand. When i didn't see any finger on the floor and that they were actually all still attached to my hand i couldn't help but feel a massive relief. 

It's amazing the amount of blood that pumps out of a hand. I mean it'd give Old Faithful a run for its money. The couple we were working for rushed to me with a paper towel in which i wrapped my hand not to have their kitchen look like we've just sacrificed an entire cattle of pigs to whichever god. 
Put my hand under the tap, saw the damage, knew for sure that i need quite a fair amount of stitches and that i needed to go to the ER stats. 

The amazing thing with the ER is that if you're actually dying, well, you'll probably die waiting. I waited for an hour before someone came pick me up to check on me. The pain was tolerable but my middle finger and my index were getting numb and that was worrying me.

I had my hand dipping in some antibacterial liquid for a good 30 minutes before a doctor came to see me. Since the wound was deep, he told me he'd anaesthetize my hand. I swear to god, when he put the needle in my hand, it was like he was hiting me with an ice pick. All the pain i wasn't feeling up until now shot out and i honestly screamed. I'm normally pretty strong before pain but damn, that one was insane.
He dug in, noticed that it was super deep and told me, you need to see a specialist.

Following day, met the specialist of the hand at a clinic, he saw the wound, touched it a little, i jumped, he said: we're keeping you for the day. 

Anaesthesia second round, needle in the armpit to numb the entire arm. I don't know what kind of needle they use for anaesthesia but hot damn, are they painful.
Went in for surgery with a very nice and laid-back surgeon and staff in the OR, he told me that i had missed both the nerves and the tendons. Hold on, let me get back and finish the job.

8 stitches and quite a few hours later, i was back home. Alle-freaking-luia.
2 forced weeks off-work. A nurse coming to change the bandage every 2 days. Middle finger still numb but got the use of my hand back a couple of days ago. Now i can tie my shoelaces. Even though i know i'm using my middle finger, i still have no idea what it's doing!
Stitches are getting off on Friday. I can't wait. I'm dying to go back to work as well which is unfortunately unlikely since the wound is so fresh and in such a delicate part. Being stuck at home is depressing.

Hopefully, some good news are around the corner. I mean i went to the ER twice and through 2 surgeries in 3 weeks, i'm starting to feel like i've had my share of bad news, i could do with some good ones. I promise if i win €45 million at the lottery this week end, i'll stop whining.

I Missed the Fireworks

Yesterday was July 14th. Bastille Day as they call it in the States. Rightfully so, since it's the taking of the Bastille back in 1789, during the French Revolution, which officially put an end to France's monarchy and the begining of it being a democracy. I won't comment on that knowing that the French Democratic Republic is more a name than the true meaning of it. Moving on.

So yesterday was a celebration nonetheless and i wouldn't normally miss the fireworks. I absolutely adore them and it's always very emotional for me. Don't ask me why, i wouldn't know. But i can't help but tear up a little when i watch fireworks. I can somehow feel it in my gutts, i don't know, it's a weird feeling.

But i wasn't in a good place yesterday and by the time they actually started firing them, i was already in bed only wanting to sleep to make that awful day come to an end. Needless to say it's always when you truly want to sleep to make the hurt go away that you can't find any. 

So here's a picture of beautiful fireworks (i've also watched some online while trying to fall asleep!). There's another one planned to be fired in August, at the fare. I'll go for sure then!

Wednesday, July 01, 2015

Oh No, Not Again!

It's harvest time! I missed it last year cuz i wasn't working there yet and i missed it this year cuz well, i had to call in sick. DAMN IT. But anyway, the day i got back to work, i was sent back in the fields with my tractor to start preparing the land of newly harvested fields. And off i was. 
A lot of people i know don't like being in the fields, working the land with a tractor cuz generally, you're going super slow. For this particular work I'm doing, I'm going 5km/h. Needless to say it's gonna take me for fucking ever to do a 17 hectares field but i don't care. Drawing lines in a field has this amazingly soothing feeling for me. I'm focusing on the lines, not thinking about much else and i drains any bad thoughts from my mind.

At some point, i was making it back to a place where i had to skim the neighbor's field when i saw this big slice of un-worked land ... My first thought was: wow, was i this bad the first time, passing this far from the neighbor's field's edge? I mean it was a good 6 meters wide and I knew i hadn't been that far off. Right at that very second, i saw a massive harvester pulling out of the wheat's field. 

Security scream (as my colleague calls it!). And off i was again, minding my own business!

A short time later, i heard an unfamiliar sound/noise as i was making a U-turn in the field. I turned around and i was like: holy crap, I've lost a wheel!
I was cartoon-like, when the driver loses a wheel and he sees it going its own way rolling away. Took me a few meters to stop and contemplate the "work".


Called the Boss, told him that, hum, well, i had lost a wheel. He started to ask me about mechanical shit and i was like, i don't know any of that: the wheel is unattached to the trailer it's supposed to be on, nothing seems broken, please come help me!

Verdict: bearings are DEAD. We'll have the new ones in 3 days.
Well, i guess i ain't working in there for the rest of the week then. Booo.

Does this kinda thing only happen to me? I mean, seriously? I've pretty much been on the spot for every breaking there's been with agricultural equipment ... (** sighs **) Maybe once I've had broken every single one of them at least once, I'll be able to work properly! One can only hope!

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

It's Been Forever

It's been almost 6 months without me writing a single word in there and i won't make an apology because there are no other reason than me being lazy. I always have tons of stuff to write about cuz let's be honest, i have this amazing ability to attract the crazy, the unusual, the odd and the fantastic. 

So even though this ain't an apology for being a lazy ass, it's a little note to let you know that, well, i'm back! So buckle up and get ready!

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Can You Tell Someone: Your Baby Is UGLY ?

Facebook is the tabloid of people you know. And the most amazing thing about it all is that they're their own paparazzi. If your FB friends (please note the emphasis on Facebook friends since probably 90% of them are not real friends, if not more) were actually famous people, they probably wouldn't publish half of what they actually publish. Note the probably. When you see what celebrities publish via their twitter or instagram account, you can't help but think that they must like the attention ... But i digress.

I'd be lying if i said i don't publish personal stuff on Facebook because i do. I generally publish stuff that is either inspiring, funny and/or that make fun of me. The world is hard enough as it is, i've never taken myself too seriously and i like laughing about stuff that happens to me. And i've come to realize that i made some of my friends laugh at my crazy little adventures and it kinda make it all worth it.

But again, i digress.

Some people on FB (and obviously, you can all imagine that they're part of my contacts otherwise, how would i know about what they do, say or publish) are so obnoxiously self-absorbed that it's almost painful to see a publication coming from them. A couple of "friends" of mine (i mean they're a couple as well as FB friends of mine) used to be vomiting their love for each other all over their wall. I mean i don't mind you being madly in love with your spouse but you don't need to convince me you are because:
a) i couldn't care less
b) it's very intimate
c) what are you trying to prove?
d) who are you trying to convince? 
Oh, please, don't try to shovel down my throat that your life is so perfect with the absolutely bestest husband/wife in the world in it. Nobody is perfect, life is a bitch (if not all the time, at least from time to time) and your better half can be a bitch/dick just like any other ass in the world.

Well that same couple, still vomiting their love for each other by the way, is now happily married (obviously) and also recently reproduced (oh sweet mother of god). Needless to say that they're not only vomiting their love for eachother, they're also doing so with their newly born, who's now 54 days old. How do i know that? Because damn it, they publish a picture of that baby every single damn day with its age in days. Talking about months for a baby is annoying enough but in days, i don't even know where to start. 

When i think about another friend of mine who waited until she was 6 months pregnant to tell the world that, "oh, yeah, i almost forgot, i'll have another baby in about 3 more months" and that we have seen only ONE picture of the cutie pie since he was born!

But the thing is, i don't really mind that they're posting a picture of their beloved baby every day. OK, yes, i do. I swore i will never do that when i'll have my own little creature but i can understand that you feel like your baby is the most beautiful living thing that has ever set foot on this planet, that he's shining heavenly light from every single of his pores. Problem is (and sorry to burst out your bubble darling): he's not.

Nothing shines out of nowhere on that baby and dear god, am i the only one who think that it's an ugly baby? Do you actually say that kinda thing out loud? Can you tell the parents, i'm sorry, i don't think your kid is beautiful i think it looks like an old man. And an ugly one with that!
So i never sent my congratulations to the "happy" couple for bringing their descendance to the world since i wouldn't know what to tell them. I can't lie. I can't just tell them what they're expecting to hear, nor what everybody has been telling them. In my humble opinion, your baby is ugly as fuck and it makes me cringe every single time i see a picture of it appearing on my newsfeed.

With that say, i'll go back at my practising to get my own most beautiful and perfect-in-every-way baby! 

Cutest baby on the planet ... yep, that would be me! :D

PS: i've googled "ugly baby" to find a suitable picture to illustrate this post but oh my god, i'm gonna have nightmares! Ok my friends, your baby is ugly, but he doesn't get the prize for ugliest baby! Lucky you!

Friday, January 09, 2015

The Reason Behind It All

I started this blog quite a few years ago, i believe in 2009 ... As i mentioned it in one of my first post, it was after 2 guys told me to do so. I obviously enjoyed writing but didn't know how to share it. 
I've always tried to keep this blog as "apolitical" as possible. Politics are not my thing. Never were and probably never will be. I just wanted a support where i could express myself freely about very light stuff that either makes me laugh or makes me cry but things that create a strong feeling within myself. And i'd say that so far, so good.

Something terrible happened in France 2 days ago. 2 armed guys rushed into the buildings of a French satirical newspaper called Charlie Hebdo and cold-blooded killed 12 people, harmed 11 more, 4 of which critically. Amongst them, journalists, cartoonists, humorists and a few non-press related people, a cleaning guy, 2 policemen and people who had the misfortune to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. 
Regardless who those people are and how famous they may or may not be, the act itself is horrendous. 

An entire nation has since rised in support of what these people (and this newspaper) represented: the freedom of speech.

And with that in mind, it reminded me of the main reason of why i started this blog in the first place.

I was then living in Mexico and working for one of the biggest tour company in the country. We were 700+ employees there and one day, a guy in charge of who knows what suggested that it would be nice to have/make a little internal newspaper. And i immediately thought: fuck yeah. As soon as he asked for volunteers, i signed up for 2 columns. One was interviewing the oldest employees (by oldest i mean the people who were working there the longest, basically since day one ...) and the other one was something i called: "me and ..." and it was kind of a prototype version of what this blog was going to be (so not so much in direct relation with the company but something funny and light-hearted to read)

Well, he probably thought highly of himself since he censored me pretty much from day 1. And i don't like being censored. I don't like censorship in general. There was so many little details he didn't like, i couldn't write what people were telling me in the interviews because it made either Big Boss look bad and/or the company better in its old days than what it was now. So i ended up giving up the interview column after just a few interviews. And for my second column, it was even worse on the censorship when i had the bad idea of writing about Mexico City's insane traffic (he was from there you see).

Anyway, i won't write about this old story again, mainly because i did so already in this amazing post of mine ... but also because a great deal has happened since then and i honestly don't hold grudges for that kind of insignificant things.

Or so i thought.

Ok, grudge is probably a bit over-the-top, but i remember perfectly the feeling i got when he censored me and when he completely modified my text. It was infuriating, it was frustrating and the only thing it made me want to do was to keep on writing to show him that nothing he could do or say could/would stop me. And that's exactly what i did. 

As i said earlier, this blog is not very commited. Of course, i do have my opinions on things happening in the world and i sometimes ramble about things and raise my voice pen about it. But given the recent attacks on that newspaper which can be totally said as an attack on our freedom of speech, it reminded me that our greatest power against religious radicalism and extremism is culture. Words are more powerful than any weapon. And as long as there'll be words, then there is still hope for this world to become a better place. 

It's been amazing how people have stood united. I believe last time it happened was in 1968. Maybe there's a new revolution in the making. It's about time we stand together against oppression and for our liberties. 

France, you kinda make me proud to be one of yours today. 

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Finally Found a Lefty Mug

I know what you're gonna say: a lefty mug? What the hell is that? And if you're talking about a mug that is made for left-handed people, allow me a little laugh, a mug is like a glass or a pen, it's not made for right or left-handed people, there is just one side to it.


NO, NO and NO!

That is where you guys are so very wrong. 

I totally agree on the fact that a glass, or a pen don't have a side. Whether you're right-handed or a lefty, it doesn't matter, you can use it. But there are so many objects that DO have a side and a mug is one of them. How, you're gonna ask? Because the print is on the right side. Not right, the opposite of left, right, the correct side of the mug. 

When you hold a mug in your hand, you normally don't face the image on it. Well in 99% of the cases, i do. Cuz i hold my mug in my left hand. 
But the other day, we bought a few mugs with the "lapins crétins" (idiot rabbits) on them. And one of them is the Holy Graal of the mug for lefties ... It's the biggest one, a black one and i love it! Just because i now feel that this mug was specially made for me :D

Now, i need to find a fish knife that is made for me as well and my life will be complete!
Yes, cuz fish knives have a side too ...

Saturday, December 13, 2014

My Problems Are Not Yours

It's not that nobody ever has the same kind of problems that i DO have, it's just that my job implies problems that not every John Doe has. As you might know by now, my current job is actually divided in 3 parts: working the land, cleaning septic tanks and installing septic tanks (with all the civil engineering works involved). 

A few days ago, we had to plow some of our fields. It's that time of the year when you have inspectors checking that you've done what needs to be done at the time it has to be done so Anthony and I were both on our respective tractors and doing lines in the same field. The problem there was that day was that the soil was so very much in love with the tractor and my feet it made massive sticky blocks everywhere. So i had to stop every other line to scrape the dirt out (took forever to take it off my shoes because, as usual, i only take my boots when my regular working shoes are either soaking wet or covered in so much dirt i feel like i'm actually walking 50cm off the ground). 
Needless to say that we had some serious cleaning to do afterwards. Took me 2 hours to see the axletree of my tractor again!!
and you haven't see what it looked like from the back!
I don't know who invented the Karsher (a high-pression water hose) but it is an awesome invention. A very splashy invention but a great one nonetheless. Even if i had to use a hook, a pickaxe and my own hands to get rid of it all, let's be honest, the Karsher did a lot of the tedious job. But damn, i was covered in dirt from head to toes. With the misty rain to accompany me, it was one heck of a job to do. I was drained when i was done. Literally! 

But today was the apotheosis of my working day. For the first time ever, this morning, i got sent ALONE to empty a couple of septic tanks. It went pretty well to be honest, even though moving all those sucking pipes is heavy. I got to drive the shit truck on my own, did the hoovering, did the oohing and aahing with the pipes, even wrote the bills and the certificates. But what do you do when your truck is full? Well you go to the shityard to empty said truck.
That was the second time i was doing it on my own. But man, what a second time it was.

Not entering all the details of how to unload a truck full of shit in a gigantic tank, i can at least say that things need to be done in a certain order. And when you don't follow that order, well, shit happens. And damn did it happen.
When i opened the valve, it was Shitty Yellowstone Old Faithful in all its splendor. I got drenched in shit in a split second. It was phenomenal. It was spectacular. It was so amazing that i took a picture of my misery (after taking a second to get rid of my waterproof (but not shit-proof) vest).
obviously, the phone got some too!
Anthony laughed, my boss laughed and sent me home, my boyfriend didn't think it was funny and kept on complaining about how much i stunk. I took 3 showers: one fully dressed to rinse most of my clothes, and 2 after that and i still feel i'm stinky. It feels like that crap has gone right up into my earrings holes and every single one of my pores! 

This is the kind of magical thing that happens to you ONCE. Not twice, not 3 times, just that one time and i swear to god it's never gonna happen to me again. Order is a tall order now!

But you know what? I still think my life is awesome. Shitty for some part, but awesome nonetheless!

How was YOUR shitty day?

Sunday, November 09, 2014

Encounter of the Third Kind

I honestly have no idea what the other 2 kinds of encounters might be but for me, today, it was one of the third kind. Why? Because it was extraordinary. At the root-sense of the word. Meaning, something out of the ordinary. 

(OK just checked, technically, an encounter of the third kind is when you see an UFO which is nothing of the sort).

As most of you know by now (and if you don't, you should read this blog more often! and be ashamed of yourself for not doing so earlier) I now live in the countryside. And even though i don't work with animals, needless to say i've come across cattle more than once. 
I'm not confortable with big animals. Not because i think they're scary or gross but because i've never had interracted with them because i know knew nobody who actually breed them. Up until now obviously.

One of my better half's karatéka is the son of a cow breeder, another one the son of horses and ponies breeder (yep, not comfy with horses either). My grand father in law used to breed swines, my father in law used to breed sheeps but they only have cats left now. And as cats are concerned, i'm pretty well served with my 3. So when i was told that a cow has a tongue that is raspy like one of a cat, i was in shock. I thought they had a smooth one like a dog. Same when i heard that cows are actually pretty affectionate animals. And i thought, damn, i need to go see (and maybe even pet one) from up close.

So i called the guy after my man had told him about my little query. And i met him and his cows today. 

When i parked by the field they were staying in, first thing that came to my mind was, damn, they are huge animals. It's very impressive. And i was quite far away from them still! We went in, but since it was in the field where a couple of born-yesterday calves were at, mommy cows were extremely alert and following our every move. So he took me to another field, to introduce me to Marguerite (this is such a stereotype name for a cow, i love it), a cow whom mother died calving and that he pretty much raised on his own, feeding her with a baby bottle.
Daniel and Marguerite
He kept her horns because other cows, as she was growing up, were mean to her because she acted different than they did. Animals are just like human beings, they're racist! They don't like Different. So now, she can actually defend her food when others are trying to steal it from her. 
It was amazing how he called her by her name and how she recognized it and came to us. We had brought some flour that she voraciously devoured. She even ate from my hands. I mean I HAND-FED A COW!!!! (no pic here, it was so over the top that i didn't think about asking him to take a picture)
Marguerite so very much enjoying her food!
I was a lot more nervous when he called the bull. We were in a field with about 15 cows with their calves and one bull. A one point two ton bull. It's bigger (and heavier) than my very own CAR! But i pet him. I PET A FREAKING BULL!!!
THAT bigger-than-everybody-else's bull
We then went to a third field with another baby-bottle fed cow named Peach (Pêche in French). And i couldn't help but ask for my picture taken with her. Otherwise nobody would trust me that i did go in a field full of cows and actually gotten close enough to pet them. 
Peach and I
 I couldn't pet a calf. They're fearful and always stand aback. But jeez aren't they curious. You can tell they're scared but their curiosity is still stronger than their fear and they want to get closer! It's funny. They're like a little kid hidding into mommy's skirt!!

I even got to drive that little tractor (it's not a tractor but i don't know the name of it, not even in French, let alone in English!) to bring a haybale to them. I was on my own (with the farmer's dog) in that little engine, in the middle of a dozen cows, bringing them that caramel flavored candy to them (seriously, this stuff smells like caramel, no wonder they like it!).

Farmers in France, even in the countryside, have a reputation of being assholes. And jerks. Well i have yet to meet one of these nasty specimen because all the ones that i've crossed path with have been nothing but awesome with me. Maybe it's because i'm new to this world, maybe it's because i'm a woman, maybe it's because i'm the wife and the daughter in law of a very well known family here, or maybe it's just because i'm excited about learning and discovering all these new things.
The way he talked about his cows was touching. He could pretty much tell which calf belonged to which cow, and he talked about Marguerite and Peach with some kind of pride but most of all, a tremendous amount of love and affection. This guy cares for his animals and it shows.

It was a fantastic experience for me. And you could tell he was only too happy to show me his "babies". And what is probably so natural for him was an extraordinary encounter for me. Kinda made my day :D