Day 66 – March 7th

National Cereal Day.

Cereal was a staple when I was a kid.
I remember pretty much living off the stuff.
I was particularly fond of Mini Wheats, Froot Loops, Hidden Treasures, Rice Krispies ‘Treats’ Edition and, later in my teens, Vector.
I really only remember eating cereal.
All the time.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner. And snacks.
It’s insane to think about it.

I can’t even really bring myself to look at the stuff now.

This particular Cereal Day started out  like any other, with a brief begging of Herman to let me hold him in my arms like his baby brother Duncan.
This fell on deaf ears, despite Herman’s fully capacity to hear, unlike his brother Duncan.

Next I got to spend some time with my twin nephews, Sarah’s children, Grant & Ellis.

They told me all about their new Nerf guns and the rules (not shooting where the arrow will get lost, no shooting at things that will break and no shooting at people).

They played with a train set and we must have read about 20 books.

Here’s a photo Ellis took of Grant:

So talented.

Their sister Rowan is in Kindergarten, so I will have to wait for the weekend to see her.

I had lunch with a friend (Hi Hillary!) and then went to Fixed coffee shop on Duckworth, where I furiously typed out the entire history of Prostitenant.

Albeit a cathartic experience, it was exhausting. I ended up doing nothing other than going to see Logan and forgetting to ‘celebrate’ cereal completely.

When we got home from the movie there was a package from my little sister on my porch.

I looked inside and discovered THREE BOXES OF RICE KRISPIES TREATS CEREAL! It was magical – EXACTLY at the moment I realized I had spent nearly an entire day writing about whore-ible tenants instead of ‘celebrating’, I was blessed with a whack of cereal. It was like a sign from the cosmos!

Thanks Alive Sister Claire! You saved the day!!

It tasted to exactly as I remembered it!

 

 

Day 65 – March 6th

National Oreo Cookie Day was the first day back in our real home after the Prostitenent vacated it (having spent our time since National Pig Day in Dunville, Melvin’s hometown and where all the services for him were held).

It was a bloody, fucking state.

No one in their right minds would have given her back her damage deposit in full. Lucky for her, we were not in our right minds. Well played, sociopathic hooker, well played.

A brief rundown of what we could have and should have deducted:

  • The extra day – she should have been out Feb 28, not March  1 at 3:38pm
  • Cleaning – baseboards and mouldings were filthy, toilet uncleaned, surfaces, floors, windows, oven was untouched.
  • Melted candle wax all over mantle and mirror
  • Tear in Ralph Lauren sofa
  • Holes in living room wall and upper hallway wall
  • Major long dent and paint chipping in bedroom – whole wall needs to be repainted
  • Towels and linens are now all orange, presumably from spray tan
  • Front door needs to be repainted because of wreath hook she stuck on
  • Broken irreplaceable vintage lamps
  • Paint damage to spindles
  • Missing back door key – lock now needs to be replaced considering the nature of her profession and the company kept
  • Throw cushions from couch left on lawn furniture all fall and winter
  • Coffee maker pot smashed
  • Dog shit all over backyard

Left behind, in the house she insisted was immaculate and thoroughly gone through, were:

  • a CK duffle bag full of raunchy bikinis and tacky purses
  • a new with tags Aldo clutch still in it’s cellophane
  • a bag of plastic nozzle thingies (?) presumably for her make up business
  • a framed professional photo of her grandparents house with an inscription on the back from her parents (she will be in touch about this – bet my life on it)
  • a souvenir carved wooden mask…with glitter
  • lawn chair
  • condoms (stored in lounge) {just grateful she’s not procreating}
    N.B :
    The Prostitenant also ‘returned’ additional cut copies of the key to the front door which operates on a 4 digit code. She was fanatical about changing the code when she moved in but never did and also never learnt it (further explanation here) .
    This is a person too damn stupid to memorize 4 number code and would rather drive to a lock smith and pay the 3$ to get a key cut instead to give to her pimp/boyfriend (or call me 11 times in the middle of the night for it  ).

I went for lunch with my friend Allyson and vented non stop about how bullied I felt and weak I feel for letting her treat us the way she did.
I should never have answered the phone and left it at “Landlords have 15 days to return damage deposits – we are at a wake -have some respect” and turned both our phones off.

There is nothing that can be done about the past… if there was, I sure as hell wouldn’t  waste the opportunity to time travel on her.

Back to Oreos.

Allyson graciously drove me to a store to buy Oreos and bleach to disinfect every square inch of our whore house.  I bought Double Stuff and Extra Strength, respectively. Thanks Allyson!

When I got home at probably close to 4 pm, Herman was still in bed. This was no surprise.

I was panged with guilt for all the times Duncan was able to reap the benefits of my celebratory projects and Herman was left behind in Newfoundland, neglected.

 

So I gave the poor old fellow an Oreo. Happy Oreo Day, Hermie, hope it doesn’t kill you!

I also made an Inukshuk

And ate a couple myself, while dressed a lot like an Oreo

And then did my usual staging

I consider this a day well celebrated indeed.

 

 

 

Day 64 – March 5th

National Cheese Doodle Day

This was the first day all funeral-natured ‘festivities’ were completely done with.

James and I had picked up a bottle of Veuve Clicquot for this particular morning.
His mother loves champagne and toasts so we thought it might be nice way to close off the long, dreary weekend.

After raising a glass to Melvin, it was time to acknowledge Cheese Doodles.

Here’s to you, Cheese Doodle, you salty mother fuckers

 

Day 62 1/2 – March 4

March 4th is Marching Music Day, National Grammar Day, & National Pound Cake Day.

However,  I misread my holiday source page and thought the day was International Irish Whiskey Day, which turns out to be March 3rd in actuality. Unfortunately  I put all energy and limited time that I had this day to getting some Irish Whiskey and not into any of the other options.

So I am going to consider this a ‘cheat day’, as they call it in the fitness business, and just go with it.

This was the day of Melvin’s funeral and burial.

We donned Boston Bruin pins for the ceremony and powered through the brutally cold and windy day.

After the reception, we went back to Melvin’s house- it was time to ‘celebrate’.

Jameson Irish Whiskey is as good as any so that’s what we picked up

I’m not one for drinking liquor straight, but made an attempt on the rocks.

James drinks it neat on the regular

Ellie, Melvin’s sister, joined in on the libation celebration.
She did, however, miscalculate how much was left in the bottle and ‘flattened it’. She had the genius idea of using some ginger ale to dilute it down.

 

Cheers to Melvin, you were dearly loved and are deeply missed.

 

Day 62- March 3

Day Number 62 of ‘celebrating everyday literally’ & Day Number 2 of my father in law Melvin’s wake.

James had kept me in the loop with medical updates and everyone’s spirits over the past two months. I knew Melvin’s health was declining quickly, but on some level I still held the hope that something might turn around – our family couldn’t possibly be this unlucky. If you don’t have hope, you don’t have anything.

Nevertheless, part of me knew when I said goodbye to Melvin in January to head back to Vancouver for school, it would be the last time I saw him.

Seeing Melvin’s urn and the little shrine composed of his favourite sweater, tea cup and a smiling photo made his death ‘all too real’ as they say.

Even harder than processing my own grief surrounding Melvin’s death, was having to watch his daughters in such pain and not being able to do a god. damn. single. thing. about. it. How deeply I wish I could take it from them, it was overwhelming.

Apart from all the pain and tears and suffering it was

NATIONAL TARTAR SAUCE DAY ! ! !

(Is this Kermit gif being overused? I don’t even care because I have no idea how to segue from the heart ache over Melvin’s death to Tartar Sauce, as nothing is ‘right’ about any of it)

The wake ran from 2-5pm and then 7-9pm

In the two hour window, the entire family unit went to the ‘hotel’ for dinner.

This was my opportunity to squeeze in some celebrating and score some Tartar Sauce.

Which I clearly did.

It was nice to get the chance to have a conversation with Melvin’s brother, Keith during the meal about his relationship with his brother and his story of loss.
I found myself drawn to Melvin’s siblings throughout this entire process. I could relate to their grief on a more precise level, whereas
James and his sister Hannah were more aligned with Melvin’s daughters, having lost their father around their age, to cancer as well.

As for Tartar Sauce… sure. Mayo & relish mixed together is a – ok in my books.

 

 

 

Day 61 – March 2

March 2nd was National Banana Cream Pie and the first official day of my father in law, Melvin’s, wake.

I didn’t know how I was going to broach the subject of ‘celebrating everyday literally’ to a bunch of people who just lost their dad, husband, brother and neighbour.

Naturally I was apprehensive* about busting out my camera and photographing  a Banana Cream Pie while everyone was weeping and getting dressed to attend a wake.

*because I am not a narcissistic sociopath

It turned out I had some explaining to do about the pie in the first place, photographed or not.
It was an awful, store bought, fake ingredient, neon mess.


Melvin’s sister, Ellie, was the first to probe as to wtf I was doing with the pie.

I decided to go forth and I explain my blog concept.
She was tickled.
It turned out so was Jason, my step brother in law, Steve, my soon to be other step brother in law, and even Mila, Melvin’s eldest daughter.

There was no holds barred at this point, so I cut myself a slice, took a few photos and then a bite.

It tasted like the banana penicillin that plagued my childhood.

Ellie said she’d have some.

I went to plate a slice for her when she said “no no no, you’re not going to eat all that, I’ll help” and with that had a bite right out of mine.

Then Jason did as well.

 

He even went as far as to ‘hand model’ for me.

Then Steve.

Then Mila!

It was nice to not have to face the suffering alone*.

*tad dramatic given the nature of all participant’s current loss

Thank you everyone, for ‘taking one for the team’ 😉

When we were done eating the awful communal pie, we got ready and headed to the first night of waking Melvin.