Andria vs Douchebag Landlord: it's on!

The last few weeks in my old apartment, the landlord came by to check out the condition of the apartment. He sent me a note saying that major damages had been assessed. These damages included things like mild caulking erosion in the bathroom, a leaky pipe in the kitchen (which we reported months before, and nothing was done about it!), ceiling damage (which we also had reported, because I was worried it might start leaking, and nothing was done about it), smoke damage (the ex smoked like a chimney), wall damage from where I had put up a doggie gate, and scratches on the front door.

He also proceeded to tell me that items were missing, like a door closure, and a panel on the dishwasher. Which I swear, I have never seen either of these things in the entire time I lived there. He did not want to hear that, and didn't even acknowledge it when I told him that in writing, and on his voicemail. Douche.

I conceed the dog gate wall damage. Maybe a couple of scratches on the front door. Maaaaybe the smoke damage, which could basically be resolved cleaning, which I did. The rest: wear and tear, and not my responsibility!

Even in the stress and general chaos of moving, I left that place sparkling! My mom was good enough to help with the cleaning, while I was supervising movers and carting stuff from old place to new place. It looked amazing when I left it. I thought that that was the end of it.

Today, I received a letter in the mail, asking for over $1500 to cover "repairs" to the apartment. There's a longer list of stuff I'm being charged for, including damage to the closet (which was ghetto from the first day we moved in, and all I could use half of it for was a vacuum cleaner) damage to the bedroom walls, a cleaning charge for dog food and broken glass (seriously, he must have found a couple of kibbles and shards of glass in an unaccessible corner somewhere, because we cleaned the crap out of the kitchen!). I'm being charged for "loose or broken towel racks". They were not broken! They were not even loose! He just wanted to replace them, like he wanted to redo the closet. RAGE.

I'm being charged for the "missing" door closure, and for the "missing" dishwasher panel, both of which never existed. I'm being charged for all the wear and tear that he neglected to address while I was living there. I obviously can't afford this, so...the war is on! Being unemployed so far this summer gives me ample time to research my rights as a tenant and figure out how I can get out of this, and hopefully get him in trouble in the process for trying to hose me unfairly.

Oh, and in addition to me swinging by to drop off the payment, he'd like the keys back. (The keys, four sets of them no less, I returned to the Super on April 30th, when I moved!) RAGE, RAGE, RAGE!

This could get ugly. Hopefully I come out on top. Wish me luck, folks - stay tuned for updates.

America has the chance to do the right thing.

This week the US introduced a new bill: the LRA Disarmament and Northern Uganda Recovery Act.

If passed, the LRA Disarmament and Northern Uganda Recovery Act would require the Obama administration to develop a regional strategy to protect civilians in central Africa from attacks by the LRA rebels. It will also enforce the rule of law and ensure full humanitarian access in LRA-affected areas.

And it commits the United States to increase support to economic recovery and transitional justice efforts in Uganda.

It's about time this issue made it to the Senate. There's been so many grassroots efforts to raise awareness and solicit help at the government level. The kids at Invisible Children blow me away! They got themselves and an army of youth supporters on the Oprah Winfrey Show earlier this month. It's so exciting that this is on the table, and that those affected by LRA conflict and it's aftermath might actually get some real help.

America, please do the right thing.

Cat Ladies

I saw this documentary as part of Toronto's Hot Docs festival this year. Partially because I thought I might recognize some people or character traits given that I'm active in the cat rescue world, and partially because I'm terrified I'll turn into a crazy cat lady myself. Even though, admittedly, I'm much more of a dog nerd.

This is a really great flick that delves into the psyches of four self professed "cat ladies" and what motivates them to do what they do. Basically, people who turn to cats to fill an emotional void in their lives. Some of the footage made me want to look away, while some had me tearing up at the loss and longing in these ladies' lives. The film also explores the all important (and pretty frightening) issue of "hoarding" vs "rescue".

Highly recommended!

New Digs/Concrete Jungle

I never thought I would live in an apartment building - I've always lived in apartments in houses, but I guess it had to happen at some point. There are advantages: most apartment buildings allow dogs, laundry is in the building, your super is on site so if anything breaks, it's usually resolved in a decent amount of time, it's easy to get a place with a balcony.

I'm in a low-rise: four storeys, and I'm on the main floor so I don't have to deal with waiting for elevators or making small talk with residents while I'm in the elevator, which is nice. And I do have a decent balcony. The shitty thing is if Siris barks, she's pissing off an entire building and not just a few people, like in previous apartments. I'm taking precautions like using her citronella spray collar, tiring the crap out of her, desensitizing her to me leaving and coming back, though. So far no nasty notes pinned to my door - yay!

It's weird looking out my window and seeing a ton of other apartments though. Lots of people packed into a very small area. It's weird being in a building with eighty apartments and not knowing a single one of my neighbours. It's weird getting my mail out of a tiny mail cubby. It's weird walking around the block and seeing tons of other apartment buildings, stretching up into the sky. I will get used to this.

The privacy thing is the hardest. Seeing people hanging out on their balconies means they can see me hanging out on mine. Using the same entrance as seventy nine other apartments is just odd. Seeing everyone's routines but not knowing who they are is weird. It's like commuting via public transit, when you see the same people on your route all the time, and you never talk to them, yet you feel like you know them. Except it follows me home. Weird.

I picked this place because it's near everything. The subway is less than a ten minute walk from my door. It's closer to school than my old place. Groceries, shopping, bars, are all within a short walk. The amount of shoe stores I can walk to is kind of frightening. (I can also walk to a Mendocino outlet store - wooot! Ok, that's my inner Carrie Bradshaw speaking, I guess.) There's a clinic I might try to volunteer at that's five minutes away. And the best thing, there's an amazing off leash dog park with tons of fenced off nature trails just a couple minutes away. Which breaks up the grey and the concrete quite nicely. This ain't bad for now. It's just gonna take some adjusting.

The fishies survived the move, too!

After traumatizing my three fish by removing them from their tank and placing them in a tupperware container, driving them to my new place, and then sticking them and their tupperware container in the closet for over 24 hours while I decided where to put the fish tank, it looks like they handled the stress okay.

Still alive and kicking, one week post move. If I haven't killed them yet, I knew they could do it. And look how cleeeeean their new digs are!

Worst. Day. Ever.

While I was moving, Siroons went to stay with a friend. I couldn't deal with her constantly being in the way, anxiety increasing by the minute, following me around like a shadow. I made the move okay, and was supposed to rendez vous with my friend that night for her 30th birthday party and then get a lift home with Siris in the morning. A chance to relax, have a few beers, see my puppers again... but nope. Miss Siris decided to bolt from their place and went MIA.

I spent the whole weekend driving around, dropping off posters, making calls, logging her as Lost on every internet site I could imagine, hiking fields trying to find my girl. Worrying my head off, trying not to worry my head off. Rollercoaster city. My friend feeling awful, her birthday ruined, and me still wound up from the move.

She took off on Saturday morning and we found her Sunday morning at Kennel Inn (animal control) in Aurora. Turns out she hadn't gone far at all, and an off duty kennel worker picked her up shortly after she left. I was beside myself when we got the call that they had her. They let me come in to make sure it was her, even though they were technically closed. Oh, happy tears! And then I had to leave her there and pick her up the next day since they'd be open. It was brutal leaving her there, but amaaaazing to know she was safe. Never thought I'd be one of those douchebags picking up their lost dog at animal control, but so be it.

Within two minutes of putting her back in the car, I was already shouting commands at her, as she was a brat in the back seat, squirmy and hyperactive. Heh. We had a doggie date at the Aurora Dog Park, a hike through some trails, a long ride back and she was out for hours. A nice calm intro to my new place.

Here she is crashed out after I got her home:

and chilling on the patio the next day:

Crisis averted. Welcome home, baby!

I Hate Moving

Boooo. Tomorrow is the day, and I'm *kind of* ready. Siris is at a friend's house, I'm madly packing away. Goodbye, creepy haunted apartment.

Knitting Project!

Just to further confirm I'm an old lady, I'm making a cat blanket for the kitties at school. It may just be the first knitting project I actually complete. However, school's out for summer so I have until September to get er done. Possible? Maybe.

Ode to Survivor

I have to confess, I'm in love with Survivor. It's probably the best reality TV show ever. A lot of my friends aren't into it, and think about it probably how I used to think about it: stupid, boring, totally predictable. Except it's not. It's so awesome that I want to read internet message boards about it. And I do. It's the reason I got bunny ears, when I ditched my cable, and outside of Law and Order the odd time, pretty much the only television I watch.

This season is no exception. We have possibly a Survivor first - an alliance formed on Exile Island that might prove to be the thing that gets the winner to the end. It's all very exciting. Yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds, but really. I'm not going to lie. I love watching a bunch of really strange and interesting personality types all try to live together and work together and strategize together in extremely stressful and constantly demanding surroundings. I believe that it ultimately says a lot about who's really a good person and who's not, and whether or not that matters really, enough to determine whether you get the $1 Million at the end of it. My current theory is that you do have to be a good person to succeed at the game and get the prize. Jury votes, alliances, probably all depend on a certain level of respect and admiration from your peers. Usually you have to be a good person to earn that. Usually.

Plus Jeff Probst being a total snark and not holding anything back. Plus the editing! Ohh, the editing.

I like watching along and deciding who I believe is worthy enough to win... and then seeing if actually happens. I love watching people realize a lot of really profound stuff about themselves and how they interact in this world. Or watching them not realize it and keep on being totally clueless and full of themselves - there's one of those this season, too. (Yeah, I'm talking about you, Coach!) All in all, amazing television. Skeptics, give it another watch. You'll be glad you did.

Bandaging Practice!

My girl is such a good sport!

Why I can't wear cute shoes anymore...

I guess I am officially an old lady...because I've developed a bunion. A bunion is an enlargement of bone or tissue around the joint at the base of the big toe. Basically, a huge bump on the side of the great toe joint. The result is irritated skin (check!), pain when walking (check!), joint redness and pain (check!), and possible shifting of the big toe towards the other toes (sadly, check.) Oh, and add, "rubs against most footwear causing discomfort." Check! Gah. This condition is heriditary, so I have good old mom to thank for this. Right now, it's my right foot only, so I guess things could be worse.

From what I can tell, I could have surgery to have my toe realigned, and to have the bump of bone growth/tissue growth removed, but from the research I've done, the condition likes to come back, so what's the point? Plus, even if I tried it, I'd be looking at 6 to 8 weeks recovery, crutches and the like, which isn't exactly practical since I live alone, have no car, and have a dog that needs to go out three times a day.

All winter I've been rocking these babies which are warm, dry, comfortable and big and roomy enough that they don't irritate the old bunion.

But the weather's getting nicer, and I can't be wearing my Sorel boots in the spring and summer. The jig is up! So until it's officially flip flop season, I think I'm fucked. I've been buying these foam bunion cushions that pad the area so shoes don't hurt as much... but they still hurt. Waaah. And I LOVE shoes! Am I gonna have to start shopping at specialty old lady shoe stores? Oh, the humiliation.

Bad news...

...has been coming in droves this past week. I'm not sure how or why but bad things are happening all around me, to some of my favourite people ever.

A good friend's husband got a cancer diagnosis last week. Stage three. He's only thirty two years old, and he's going to lose his foot because that's pretty much his treatment option right now. Thankfully, it hasn't spread to his lymph or to his lungs. But it will, if he doesn't undergo amputation. My friend is being a rock, but I know inside she's a mess. Same with him, obviously.

Another good friend's mom is in a coma and might not wake up. Her lungs and her liver are basically non functioning. She was doing fine last week, and now she's non-communicative. My friend is putting on a brave face, but I know she's terrified, and I would be too. I'm terrified for her, in fact.

Another good friend had a miscarriage, not even a week ago. Heartbreaking.

My heart is aching for them all, and for their families. And I feel pretty helpless, which is worse. I so badly want to do something to make it easier for them, and yet I know nothing will. So I stand by, waiting for updates... trying not to bring it up, but ready to listen if they want to talk. And afraid to answer the phone a little, because of what I might hear when I do.

We are all getting older. Our parents are getting older. Life's changing. Is this "the thirties", or is this just an exceedingly bad start to the year 2009? ... I don't know.

I am keeping everyone in my thoughts and in my heart, and hoping for an upswing, for a good karma kickback for those who I know so absolutely deserve it. I want so much to hear something good.

"My" Barn

This is the barn at Seneca, where I muck out stalls, sweep and clean, and water and feed our school horses Buddy, Moondrop, Bandit, Sandy and Stoney. I own coveralls!

Kiss, kiss!

Cheap and Delicious for the Single Vegetarian

How have I been vegetarian for years, and not known about President's Choice Vegetarian Chili in a can? Being in school, I barely have time to cook, and it's a lot of work for just me - so I am always on the lookout for cheap, yummy and veggie friendly options and stumbled upon this. There's not just veggies and tomato sauce in here either - there's soy protein in this little bad boy! It's not frozen, which is nice, and heats up in a whopping three minutes. I top it with a bit of shredded cheese, and add a couple of pieces of crusty bread on the side for dipping, and there you go - all food groups, covered! For $1.49 a meal! And it tastes great, leaves me full and gives me back one hour+ in my day. Thank you Loblaws.

Siroons is killing me.

Last Friday, after my week of kennel duty madness, I got home ready to sink into the couch, pour myself a of glass of wine, and pat myself on the back for getting through it all. The driving back and forth, the socializing with twenty year olds, working at the dog school, trying to get midterms studied for and pulled off was just exhausting. All of it. I had eaten dinner at my parents house, adding to the exhaustion. Walk in the front door, and there's Siris, wagging her tail. With a big giant mass sticking out of the right side of her head.

I freaked out. She looked like she was packing a golf ball in her cheek. Her jaw or teeth or something were making a weird grinding noise. She looked ridiculously, hopelessly asymmetrical. So I worried all night, hoped it was just an allergic reaction, and the next morning called the vet. They squeezed me in and told me likely not an allergy since it's not bilateral. Which I should have known but was in denial about it. They told me possible tooth abscess or mass or salivary gland infection. So they sent off hematology (blood work) and histology (tissue work) and I worried about how I would afford it all. Blah.

Today I got a call that it's a "submandibular granuloma", that they think we can treat with anti-biotics. They said usually caused by a foreign object getting in there and a resulting infection. So, that's good news. The antibiotics they gave me when I took her in seem to be working, I can still feel the hard mass, but the swelling is barely noticeable. She's on FOURTEEN pills a day now, between these and the ones for a skin infection she's had forever. My old girl is slowing down so much. I am terrified of losing her. She just limps along beside or behind me, tail still wagging, ears still looking goofy. I wish she could talk to me so much. She whimpers at the cat, and sticks to me like a shadow. She is trying to pretend to herself that she's not getting old. But she is getting old. Sniff.

I sure hope she stays healthy and strong - I can't imagine my life without her. Taking her back for a re-check tomorrow and they might add another antibiotic. Yikes. We're going UP from fourteen pills a day.

The mutters appreciates any good vibes from cyberspace.
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*edit* I just clicked on the photo to enlarge it so you can read my annotation, and noticed that in the background you can see Senor Snuggles peaking out at Siris from the dining room, plotting, and his eyes both hit the flash so that he looks like a demon cat. Awesome.

Oh, the maturity!

Some neighbourhood prankster who thinks he's oh-so-clever has been defacing all the No Exit signs in my area. (Yeah, I said "he".) Not exactly sure what this genius is trying to tell the good people of Forest Hill, but I for one am getting sick of seeing his handiwork every time I take the mutters out for a walk.

Damnit! (Roommate Search Continues...)

So I finally met someone decent who came to look at the apartment. After the crazy religious medical student lady came a couple of completely trashy flakey ladies, who both thought the room was too small for all of their stuff. And I was kind of losing hope and getting broker by the second, after them. But next came a pretty cool girl who came to look at it. She asked me what my pot policy was, pretty much. She had a cat that she wanted to bring with her. She had furniture that would fill my areas of furniture emptyness/weakness. It was all so delightfully easy. But moving your single cat into a home where there's a cat and a dog - well, that's a big change, and not something to take lightly. So today I got an email from her saying she wanted to find somewhere that her cat would be the only pet. Boooourns.

Back to the drawing board, I guess. I have another girl with a diabetic cat in the horizon somewhere. She's out of town on business this week so hopefully she gets in touch when she gets back and doesn't flake out all Craigslist-style. So many flakes. Free advertising sucks. Toronto Cat Rescue posts on there sometimes and now that I'm their Volunteer Coordinator, I get to deal with my fair share of Craigslist crazies.

Anyways, cross your fingers for me that woman-with-diabetic-cat is not a flake, and falls in love with us and with the apartment.

Also, think good thoughts for me making the drive out to good old King City this week. No ice-patches. No snow. No freezing rain. Think safe and uneventful. Three weeks to reading break.

Heart Shaped Dog Biscuits

We're doing a dog treat bake-sale at school, where the funds go to the animals, so this weekend I began my foray into homemade dog treat baking. These ones are to combat doggie-breath and have mint, parsley and activated charcoal in them to accomplish this. To my surprise, they actually came out okay. Siris got to eat the imperfect ones, and she loved em.

2 cups brown rice flour

1 tbsp activated charcoal

3 tbsp vegetable oil

1 egg

2/3 cup milk

1/2 cup chopped parsley

1/2 cup chopped mint

Preheat oven to 400 degrees fahrenheit. Mix flour and charcoal. Add oil and egg. Mix. Add milk. Mix. Add mint and parsley. Mix. Drop onto greased cookie sheet. Bake for 12-15 minutes. Voila! Done! Store in sealed container in the fridge for maximum freshness!

I tried to roll my dough and use cookie cutters, which happened with only moderate success, but each batch is looking better. Happy early Valentines Day, doggies!

Fun times in the Vet Tech program

This week in one of my labs, one of my professors devised a game called she dubbed 'Basophil Boot Camp'. She distributed cards to the class - a blue card for "Basophil", and a red one for "Not A Basophil". And then we spent a good half an hour going through a powerpoint presentation she'd prepared - we'd all look at an image and then have five seconds to hold up a card depending on what we thought of the leukocyte on the slide. Basophil or Not A Basophil?

Cell identification - exciting stuff. When most of the class got the answer right, our professor would break out into a huge grin and say "Yaaaaaaaaaay! That's right! That IS a basophil!" and we thought she might explode with happiness. She loves her cells, all right. Her level of enthusiasm...? A little over the top, perhaps since we are talking about white blood cells here, but good for her for making it fun.

Anyway, this is an example of how I spend my days at school, and what I'm learning.

In the last week in addition to surviving 'Basophil Bootcamp' I also:

• Gave an IM and a subcutaneous injection to a Beagle cadaver.
• Manually and automatically processed an x-ray
• Correctly identified round worm eggs in a fecal float

Cooooool.