And Then I Was Faced With My Day of Reckoning.

by Camille Posted on September 16, 2008

We always knew this day would come.

It was inevitable, I suppose. Poor Kyle bought a house (our current little love shack) back in September of 2006. Now, two years later, the cable company has finally figured out that the past owners have moved.

And just like that, I’m cut off. Life, I tell ya…it can turn on a dime.

Was it dishonest of us? Well…it’s kind of a gray area along the Spectrum of Morality. The real dishonesty was that the previous owners didn’t call to have it disconnected. Scoundrels, all of them. The fact that neither Poor Kyle nor I ever had time in our busy lives to remedy a mistake we didn’t even make…that’s a sin of omission, at worst.

At any rate, there’s a difference between accepting blessings (free cable was undeniably a blessing [while it lasted, anyway.]), and actually pirating those blessings for oneself. And I’ve never made much of a pirate.

Obviously.


Someday, I will be rich enough to afford cable of my own accord. That will be a very joyful day indeed.

But until then… Goodbye Mike Holmes from Holmes on Homes. I almost loved you.

Photo from here.


Goodbye So You Think You Can Dance Canada—your first episode was a delight. If these Canadians know what’s good for them, I’m sure you’ll be a big hit. Goodbye Divine Design with Candace Olsen, and Take This House and Sell It with Lisa LaPorter, and Design Inc. with that Sarah person. Sarah person, I wish I could see how your new house and baby’s nursery turns out. Goodbye Location, Location, Location, and Relocation, Relocation—two shows that each have the same delightful British hosts and are essentially exactly the same. I will never know the difference between you two, but I will always remember that we had a good thing going.

Photo from here.


And now, with our Wii out for “servicing,” I’m left to my own pathetic devices. Our DVD collection is rather scarce—well, maybe not scarce, but it’s scarcely decent. I can only take so much of Dumb and Dumber, Wayne’s World, and Tommy Boy before I decide a torture chamber is a better alternative.

(Sigh.) Anyone read any good books lately?

Posted in change, I hate change, oh brother what next, woe is me | 14 Comments

Birth Control and What I’d Do if it Ever Failed Me.

by Camille Posted on September 12, 2008

I believe that children should come into this world being highly anticipated by their parents. Of course, accidents can happen, and who am I to judge? No one. I am, however, a girl who knows that she is not–in any way, shape or form–ready to be a mother. If I were to get pregnant unexpectedly right now, I would feel so sorry for my unborn fetus, because I do not think I could be joyful and excited to birth it. (To BIRTH it. BIRTH. Sounds wretched.)

Someday I will be ready to have children, and when that day comes, I will be as hopeful and expectant as any mother likely is. I will nest. I will read “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” (a title which should be underlined but Blogger won’t let me). I will go to LaMaze and La Leche League and LaMommy-and-Me prep classes. When I am ready.

But for now, I take very great care not to let any of my defenseless little eggs get fertlised. That’s how we roll, the eggs and me.

So with no further ado…

Q [from Anonymous]: So what ARE your birth control plans?

A [from me]: I am taking a prescription birth control pill called Yasmin. I like it, second only to the prescription I was on back in the states [it was a similar pill called Yaz, but the “off” pills were only three in number. Which meant the “off” days were three or fewer. Which was a marvelous thing indeed]. But they don’t make Yaz in Canada–just Yasmin. The only difference is that the white pills–or the “off” days–are an entire seven. Which is four more than three. Which is the kind of math that can get your head chewed off if you bring it up during The Week of the White Pills.

Poor Kyle–he knows to beware of the Week of the White Pills. Poor, poor Kyle.


I won’t complain, though, because my meds up here cost me $10.00 for a three month supply, whereas in Arizona I was paying upwards of $50.00 each month. But that was my fault because I dropped out of college and could no longer qualify for student insurance. I’m a black sheep like that.

Anyway, Yasmin is a nice little drug that I gleefully pump into my body every night before bed. I did all the research my little brain could tolerate, and I decided the pill was the choice for me. I might have preferred the Depo Provera shot, if not for the fact that I would rather get pregnant than get shots—and that’s saying a lot. And please…don’t even get me started on those nasty things that stay up in people’s bodies for months on end. I…cannot…fathom. Ever. Never ever ever.

But to each her own.

Q [from Camille Elise]: Hmm…If you ever have kids, how many do you want? And would you ever consider having them at home, in say, a bathtub?

A [from me]: Four. And if there is any way I can figure out to have one sets of quadruplets or two sets of twins, I would absolutely take it. The way I figure it, I can completely hole myself inside my house for four years until at least one of my kids started school–and every year following would just get better. Then again, what do I know? My older sister, a new parent herself, tells me that this is the stupidest idea she’s ever heard. And she’s pretty clever, so I am probably wrong.

I would never have my children in a bathtub. I might consider having one in an Aqua Doula™, though–it’s a child birthing spa! Ooh, la la!


But I intend to have at least my first child (assuming I can’t get all four at once, because I could never be so lucky) at the local hospital, such as it is. Because, as I believe with my contraceptives, if the drugs are there, I want them.

If, however, my first birthing (ugh. BIRTHING. Sounds right awful) experience is negative, I would consider trying a home birth. The smart way. The Cristin way [i.e., with a licensed, experienced midwife there as guidance and a life-preserver]. When I read her post about her experience with a home birth, I remember thinking, “Wow. That really does sound nice. Being able to sleep in my own bed just a little while after having a kid? Good deal.”

But who wants to think about birth plans now? Not me. I’m only sayin’ ’cause you asked.

Posted in ask me anything, like-it-link-it, what I'm about | 32 Comments

{I Put the Ab in Abnormal.}

by Camille Posted on September 11, 2008

This is the last day of my laying low-ness. Tomorrow I’ll be back in the proverbial saddle, blogging five days a week again. Tomorrow my big sister–and all her entertaining distractions–will be gone, along with my sweet-face baby nephew.


Life will resume as normal.

Except I kind of forgot what “normal” is for me.

It seems this entire summer, the only thing that’s stayed constant is that I haven’t.

Take jogging. All winter, my excuse for not exercising was because of all the snow and ice outside my warm cozy house. Exercising in the winter gives me the whooping cough. But the coming of summer didn’t really do anything for me. At all. I am no more in shape now than last year. Probably worse, actually.

I’ve been bouncing around the continent from week to week, never in the same place: Oregon, Washington, Utah, Idaho, Arizona, British Columbia. I think over 50% of this summer has been spent not here.


I even tried getting into the habit of making my bed every day, but there’s nothing consistent there. Sometimes Poor Kyle stays in bed after a long run to Oregon and back, and by the time he’s up, I’m ready to sleep again. My bed can go unmade for days at a time, despite my good intentions.

Even changing it from this…
…to this…
…didn’t provide the motivation I need.

So how am I supposed to know my routine, if the constant in my life is change? I have no routine. My days are lived based on my current whims.

I guess it’s back to that, then.

I know it’s Thursday and I’m supposed to answer questions a question, but I’m going to do it tomorrow. Guaranteed it will be good [a nice discussion of birth control is in order, I believe], but it’s September 11th today. I wanted to write something different.

On this day in 2001, I was a shiny new Sophomore in high school, and America seemed to be changing forever. Even though I did not have direct relatives or friends in New York, my almost-fifteen year-old self could sense that times were strange. Times did change, and have changed continually since that day. It seems for me, and all the world, the only constant anymore…is change.

Posted in change, introspection, looking back, what I'm about | 10 Comments

What’s in a Name? A Million Different Selves.

by Camille Posted on September 7, 2008

I don’t really have a nickname.

When I was in 6th grade (grade 6, Canadians!), I decided “Camille” was a nasty name, and I’d much prefer to be called “Cammie.” I got my entire class in on it–teacher and all–and was quite sure that my future as “Cammie” was bright and empowering.

Me captured in my element, chopping down a Christmas tree when I was 12, during the height of my “Cammie” self.

Until I got to 7th grade and met a whole slew of Cammie/Cammy/Kami girls. Suddenly, my new personality–in its entirety–seemed less like me and more like everybody else. I had to go back to Camille.

But shortening “Camille” is a difficult task–“Cam” is rather masculine, and I’d already ruled out the “Cammie” bit. “Mi” sounded too much like something from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and “Mille” was out of the question.

But I can’t help the fact that most everyone in my family calls me “Millie.” Not just that; it’s “Millie,” “Millie Vanilli,” and–in my sister’s case–simply “Mill.”

For aunts and uncles, my parents and grandparents, this is perfectly normal. But if anybody else–friends, in-laws, anonymous commenters–called me “Millie…” It is not pretty. The first boyfriend I ever had tried to call me “Millie” on more than one occasion, which effectively ruined his chance with me, because it made me feel like I was dating an uncle. And who wants to marry their uncle? (Okay, I did want to marry one uncle once upon a time, but I was really little then–I haven’t wanted to marry him since I was 5 or 6.)

So don’t call me “Millie,” or any version of the name. I would have to then stop blogging so as not to ruin my relationship with any of you non-relatives.

Oh. And also? Evidently there is more than one way to pronounce my name. I’ve always called myself “Camille” as in “cuh*mill.” It wasn’t until I was 18 or 19 that I realised some people pronounce it “cuh*meal.” Yeah. And I never knew, until I moved to Canada and people started asking me if I prefered Cuhmill or Cuhmeal, and I was like, “Oh, I have that option? Cool.” I stuck with Cuhmill.

So if you ever meet me…whatever. Like anyone cares about this. I don’t even care. Someone, please…give me something to write about. I’m grasping at straws here.

Posted in change, looking back, what I'm about | 18 Comments

I Wonder How Many Readers I’ll Estrange in Writing This Post?

by Camille Posted on September 5, 2008

Sorry I’ve been on the down-low lately.

My sister is here to visit me. She’s brought along her husband (good guy) and child (even better). We’ve been having more fun than any family should be allowed to have. I won’t post pictures quite yet, because we haven’t taken one, or any. But I will–I promise.

Suffice it to say that I may or may not be posting much for the next few days. But I’ll be back–I always come back.

Oh, and I might as well answer a question, since I’m here and all…

Question, From RatalieNose [one of my most favourite blog readers]: Camille, if you were still living in the U.S. which presidential candidate would you be voting for?

Picture from here.

Answer, from Me: Barack Obama. And I am still voting, because I’m an American citizen even if I’ve moved far far away. I’m allowed.

[Now all of you can debate in the comment section as to whether or not I’m telling the truth. Remember I come from Mesa, Arizona and I also have a penchant for sh*t disturbing.]

Posted in ask me anything, family, Travel | 26 Comments

Going House.

by Camille Posted on September 2, 2008

I’m in Canada. That’s where I live, you know. Even if it still doesn’t quite feel like home.

When I go to Arizona, I am going to a place that has known, loved and embraced me since the day I was born. Where the proverbial everybody knows my name. In returning to ay-zee, I’m returning to a state of normalcy. A state of comfort. A state of mind. The 48th state. It has five Cs and cacti and my life history.

So when I head for Arizona, I head for home. Which means my trip back to Canada can only be going house. Going house-with-purple-walls-that-retain-a-funny-smell-from-the-last-guys-who-lived-here, if we’re being technical.

But how can I call it going house, when my husband, Poor Kyle, lives here and waits patiently for me to return? It’s not just house to him…it’s his home. And They say that home is where the heart is, but my poor little heart is divided so many times, it feels like I only have one tiny ventricle to dedicate to Canada. I mean…Paris, London, Brussels, New York, San Fran…every place I’ve visited, I’ve left a piece of my heart behind.

All of this thinking is bad for the brain, so let’s just move on.

The good news is: August is over and September has arrived in all its Autumn glory! And I do love September. I was born in September, and this month I’ll be turning 22, which looks like such a small little number all typed up. Even though when I was a kid, 22 might as well’ve been 88, because who can possibly fathom life in their twenties as a 10 year-old? When I was 10, I thought my 22 year-old self would look something like this:

Good thing I have another 10 years before my face morphs*. Heaven help me when I’m 30 {tongue-in-cheek, people…tongue in cheek}.
Also, good thing I’m still just almost-22.

So I like September mostly because it’s the month of my birth, but also for these fantastic reasons.

The bad news is, when I was growing up, September signified the oncoming months of sweater-weather, when I could finally stop wearing bras to school because who notices perkiness under oversized hoodies, anyway? But now that I’ve moved north of the 49th parallel, September signifies the oncoming months of THIS PLACE IS EFFING COLD.

Because as I type this, it is 36 degrees Faranheit outside, and we have our heater turned on. Our heater. Turned on. In September. {Actually, Poor Kyle wanted to fire it up a few days ago, but man-made heat in the month of August goes against everything I hold dear.}

Unreal.

*Photo courtesy of this place.

Posted in Canada, change, what I'm about | 17 Comments

{A Lesson in Self-Assertion}

by Camille Posted on August 28, 2008

Question, from Anonymous: “Though you often [don’t you mean ‘always,‘ Anonymous?] speak entertainingly, with typically appropriate grammar, almost always correctly spelled, sometimes you do speak unkindly. Likely the reason the Mayberry story was never reposted.
My question is this; did someone close to you ask for it’s removal, or was it your own conscience..moment of clarity…some kind of personal improvement, that has never brought it back, in spite of the pleading voices of so many?”

Answer, from me: This is an interesting question, and obviously written by a long-time reader of AoOL. For anybody new here, I’ll give a brief history: I wrote a post earlier this year. It was an opinionated essay about a topic which was not directly related to me. Some people thought it was none of my business and that I had no right to write what I did. I made some people mad. And when I was confronted, I found myself wussing out like a child in trouble, rather than standing up for myself and my opinions (which were, incidentally, totally warranted and right [hey, it’s my blog!]). After the minor confrontation, I was prevailed upon to delete the post known as “Mayberry.” Hurt feelings and all that. Since I am such a passive-aggressive person when it comes to confrontation (hello! I write a blog! It’s how I vent my frustrations with society with little chance of negative repercussions!), I removed the published post. [And also, I’m a coward.]

I instantly regretted taking it off my blog. Because I should have principles, and besides, I’m rarely wrong. I should have just said, “I’m sorry you have let your feelings become hurt. You misunderstood my words so badly, there is no way you could possibly understand what I actually meant by them. But I meant no ill, and I make a point of never apologising for things I write. Ciao.” Good thing I have had months to re-think it, because if it ever happens again…well…

Anyway, not realizing that Blogger would fully delete the well-written and profoundly “me” (if I do say so myself) post, I mourned its loss immensely. But it was too late—Mayberry was gone forever.

So, Anonymous, you ask if there has been any huge personal improvement? The answer is no—I’m as good as I’ll ever be. To tell you the truth, if I had a backup of the controversial post in my email inbox, I would almost surely re-post it here for all the world to see. As the lyrics of a popular song go, “I’m not mean—people are just too sensitive.” (But I would never say that to someone’s face, because hello! Chicken!)

Posted in ask me anything, oh brother what next, what I'm about | 19 Comments