Sandra's at home

September 23rd

2009-09-23T08:27:00.002-05:00

Note: Dan tells me this is a blog. I think its just what's on my mind - I'm sorry I've been keeping it in there so much lately.

My mom would have been 70 today. Seventy. Wow.
Funny but I can't picture her at 70.
She never seemed anything but ancient to me - I guess because she was in her 30s when I was born. She never seemed like a young person. She was silly of course but never "young silly" always "adult silly".
She drank singapore slings.
Her special new years eve hors'd'ovre was split hamburger buns covered in garlic margarine, bacon she cut up with scissors and a cheese slice and placed under the broiler.
We are NOTHING alike.
We are however so much alike its scary.
She always wore jewellery to match every outfit she had
She hated confrontation
She loved hard - like I do and I think as a result she was constantly disappointed.
She loved her birthday - celebrated every year like a kid - an adult kid.
She and I were meant to be together - I know we were
She did stupid things with her health essentially letting worry eat her alive
I don't want to be like her
So thats what day it is

Tell me where it hurts

2009-05-24T19:12:00.003-05:00

The other day I had physiotherapy on my shoulder. If you will remember waaaaaaaaaaaay back to last year I hurt my shoulder.
It happened when I was on the lazy river at Disney World, floating along on my inner tube. Sammy and I were holding hands. He proceeded to float one way and I floated the other. We didn't let go of each other and it is my belief that my baby ripped my arm from the socket.
Well, actually, the doctor tells me its bursitis. That sounds like something that old people get akin to "the rheumatism" and "the gout". So, I prefer to think of it as an extreme sports injury!
Back to my story, I was at physio on Thursday - again for my shoulder but my elbow was KILLING me. THROBBING elbow pain. So, he electrocuted it.
When I went back to physio on Saturday, my elbow was fine but my bicep felt bruised and almost hot to the touch.
NEITHER of these painful places were my shoulder where the actual, medically proven, injury actually is. It is my shoulder that is damaged - not my arm.
When I said - "wow that's weird" - my physio guy (who, by the way, is also a massage therapist, acupuncturist and chiropractor if you need a good physio guy - he rocks) said something that occurred to me later, when I wasn't in massive pain, that was very profound.
"Sometimes where things hurt isn't where you're injured"
My head said - well ya, my body is compensating. Its protecting itself. Its flinching when I go to poke it in the eyeball. Smart body!
But, what I thought later was that my life is sometimes doing that as well - and so do we all.
Christmas - Every year I protest when Wayne puts up the craptacular display of Christmas puke all over every surface of our house. Its not that I hate Christmas or even that I hate the fact that he tarts up the house like a Christmas whore, I just am acting to protect myself.
The hate of Christmas is compensation because my Mom isn't here to decorate her place with tinsel and the ceramic tree. My push away from all the cookies and gifts and over-kill is so that I don't have to try to be her every year. I'm the anti- her. I flinch when Santa pokes me in the rosy cheeks.
I do that a lot actually.
I pretend not to like things because my Mom loved them.
I use my grief as a cushion.
I use my Mom and stop myself from enjoying things that I could.
But I feel pain all over that doesn't just relate to being an orphan.
I rarely let myself get angry over the real things that piss me off.
I have a friend that I think lies to me. Why do I think that? Because he lies to every other person in his whole entire life.
When I call him on this, he says that I am the only person he doesn't lie to.
But, because I am me, I can't help but think that is a lie too.
And now, I've gotten to the point where I think that EVERYTHING he says is a lie. Even stupid stuff.
Really, even if it is a lie, does it matter?
What does it matter if he lies to me? Everybody lies.
But his lies make me mad. Not that they are even about me - but they make me mad AT him. But instead of letting myself be mad, I get upset. Sad. Depressed. Blame myself that he thinks he has to lie about things.......to me!
I feel hurt feelings.
The source of my pain is??????
What?
Oh - right - the source of my pain is lying. Not his. Likely mine. I lie to people all the time. It has nothing to do with them - everything to do with me. The lies cause me pain. Not mine. His.
Are you following me?
What I'm trying to say is that everything in this life is cause and effect. But sometimes its harder than you think to trace the cause. Not everything is a straight line. Not everything is easy to explain.
My shoulder still hurts - and my elbow - and my bicep - and my wrist.
The body protects itself the best way it knows how - or so says my physio guy.
The psyche does too.
With curved lines and double lines and lines with dashes.

Singing the Blues

2009-05-21T21:29:00.002-05:00

My friend is going to a concert tonight - to see Elton John and Billy Joel. While I've never been a fan of Billy Joel, I have always loved Elton John. Billy always seemed too.....hmmm........American for my tastes. Too working class hero. Too - well - just too American.
Elton, on the other hand, he was a mystery to me and I loved him.
Back in the 1970s I was alive and well but a kid - not really aware of what was going on around me but watching it nonetheless.
I watched "One day at a time". I saw Valerie Bertinelli and I identified with her because she was the FAT one - at least in my head she was. Of course she probably weighed fully half of what I did - but I digress... And I saw that Val LOVED Elton John. So of course, I too loved Elton John.
I heard Elton on the radio. And I loved him there too. He was fun and crazy looking. Flamboyant before that was a bad thing.
He was my generation's Liberace - before we knew why. Or well - I think we all deep down knew why - but before - when we were supposed to pretend NOT to know why!
And the pop music of Elton John followed me through my high school before it was eaten alive by the 80's new wave monster.
I can remember going to buy the "Live in Australia" double album set when that came out. It was the greatest album ever - and I think it still might be.
But where Elton sticks in my life in particular is in 1983.
When a boy....well I bet you can tell what comes next....a boy broke my heart. Sitting here I would love to tell you the story. I would love to but I'm not sure I can.
You see, at the time, it felt as if my heart was broken in half and laying bloody on the carpet in front of me. At the time I was sure that it would be better to be dead of heartbreak than to live through that pain. How could he? How could he not love me?
Elton said to me, "I guess that's why they call it the blues/Time on my hands could be time spent with you".
He knew.
I can remember crying through the tears.
I have a clear - crystal clear - memory of sitting on my carpet in my bedroom - near the window and singing along at the top of my lungs "don't wish it away/don't look at it like it's forever..."
I was eating a sandwich - white bread and cheese - don't know why I remember that. And I was crying so hard that the bread was salty from tears and I was kind of choking on its soggy salty stickiness while I sang and ate and cried.
But do you know, for the life of me I can't remember who I was crying about.
Was it Steve or Steve? Yes, both named Steve. Both broke my heart. Both in 1983.
Kinda sucked twice.
But who made me hurt like I wanted to die?
Who gave me that memory etched into my brain so that every time for the rest of my life when I even THINK about Elton John I think about choking on a tear stained cheese sandwich?
I can't say for sure.
But I think that's an important thing eh?
Sad thing is, I still have BOTH Steve's in my life and neither of them were worth the tears.

The Crickets

2009-05-19T11:44:00.002-05:00

Yes, that's the sound of crickets. I haven't been writing here lately and I'm about to give you the home spun psychoanalysis that I've managed to dig up out of my psyche.
People were reading my blog. People were reading my articles in the magazines that I wrote. People in general were reading what I had written.
Some people read it and asked me questions.
Some people read it and said I was oh so clever to have written these things.
Someone even said she showed other people an article and said "I know her" - like knowing me MEANT something. Like knowing who wrote those things was something to be proud of.
And all of the sudden I got shy.
Me.
I got shy.
Now, if you've met me, I am a huge fan of attention. Negative attention. Positive Attention. Being the centre of attention.
I call attention to myself at every bloody opportunity that I have.
I speak out in group settings.
I'm loud.
I'm opinionated and I'm not afraid to express them. On more than one occasion I have said - If you don't want to know what I think then you should never have a conversation with me - cause I will tell you.
I don't ever want to shrink into the background. You can tell that by the way I dress, the way I act, the shoes I wear....everything about me is bigger than life. I crave it.
That's right, I said I crave attention. I love attention. I can't even understand how people could NOT want to be noticed.
I've never ever shied away from attention either. I seek leadership roles in every job or committee or group I've ever been in. Its natural to me to want to be in charge, get up on a stage and talk about something. It doesn't even matter to me what I'm talking about! Big crowd, small group - I'm all in!
I am a natural story teller. Half of the time when I'm doing something, I'm likely trying to figure out how later I will tell the story.
"..when I tell the story about this day (and I will), you were naked!"
I think the stories, for me, are socially acceptable stand up comedy. You know, never one to seek out the stage (ahem) I have to have a creative outlet for my affectations.
I've always know I've had them - my Mother used to bellow at me when she was mad,
"You're so AFFECTED!" Like that or any type of drama was a BAD thing! I thought that I had turned my need to be in the spotlight into a "thing".
My "thing" if you will is being VISIBLE. You'd never be somewhere with me: a meeting or an event or a party and NOT know that I was there. I'm always visible.
That is, in part, what I love about my blog. Its a place where I express those affectations and the need to be seen and heard. Its where I am visible.
But something CLICKED recently. Something made me want to not be seen.
Part of it I guess is fear of success. Accolades made me shy. An odd reaction for an attention whore, but a human reaction at that.
I'm not THAT successful. I didn't get that much praise.
Is it the fear of being noticed? Maybe. Maybe if I am good at something then people will expect more from me. Maybe I will expect more from myself. Maybe I will want more from myself.
Someone asked me if it was my fear of the medium.
"You're fearless in person but naked in print"
It could very well be that I can't take back what I've said once its written. That my inhibitions that are stripped in conversation, surface when its cast in print. It makes permanent something that I think - and makes me accountable for my opinions.
I can honestly say I don't know.
I am not sure which of these things or which combination of these things it is but I am resolved to overcome it. I am resolved to pull the proverbial stick out of my ass and start letting out what has been trapped inside for the last 4+ months. I'm sure there is a floodgate just ready and willing to be burst open!

Turn it down

2009-01-30T19:28:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting here, on my love seat, in my living room wishing I lived in the country far far away from everyone. Far FAR away.
I can't even think. Its too loud. Way too loud.
What?
The neighbours. The neighbours music is SO loud that the wall is vibrating. Booming bass is banging and has been for half an hour.
How long do I have to listen to it before I can complain?
How many fucking times do I have to complain before they get that its just too bloody fucking loud?
For shit's sake they have a 6 month old baby who's hearing they are likely irreparably damaging. Four frigging kids and you CANNOT tell me that at 7pm they are sitting around playing monopoly and listening to some reggae shit turned up to 12 on their stereo. No freaking way.
I have no fucking idea what music they are listening too because there is no break between songs. Its like one big long booming song that has lasted over half an hour.
Now, this isn't the first time this has happened. Like I said, I've complained before. I've even called the police before. But these people don't GET it. If you turn your stereo to 11 it is too fucking loud. End of. It just is. It offends me. I can't hear my tv that is 4 feet from me. Wouldn't you think that they would learn that this makes me homicidal?
It its not over in the next 10 minutes.....I'm going to....oooooh....I'm going to go knock on the door and give them the "stink eye"!

Slight Delay

2009-01-10T23:31:00.002-05:00

I apologize for the slight delay in posting my New Years Resolutions 2009 - I had to do some reading and research and make sure that I had all of my priorities and plans in order for the upcoming year.............ok - I don't believe me either. I am lazy. Exceptionally lazy. But that isn't the case this year - I swear to you I've just been really busy and somewhat preoccupied.
But, you know, its actually BETTER to make your resolutions on the 10th of January. I've already had a chance to test some of them out and fail at them and now I get a chance to modify and leave out ones that I just can't commit to. Yay for me.
So here we go.
You ready?
These are going to be awesome!

1. Distinguish who my true friends are, enjoy them, and tell them how much I do. Let the friends who aren't friends go.
I did this a bit last year (the letting go part) and it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I miss bad experiences as much as good ones. I'm a bit of a masochist sometimes, I admit.
I think my whole need to recognize when I'm loved and by who motivates this whole assessment process for me. I feel like my constant need for approval makes me very vulnerable - my need to please and be everything to everyone is not helpful in friendships.
But, I was saying tonight - the good friends that I have are awesome. And I made new ones this year - yay. I sometimes these things become damaging though and I need to check that I'm ok.

2. Eat Less Crap.
I eat a lot of useless processed carb as a vegetarian. Now that I'm eating some meat again, I need to be careful that I don't eat useless processed meat crap.
As a family we have all but eliminated fast food.
Ok - we still get subs and shwarma but really, who could live a life without falafel? I ask you. Is a life without falafel worth living?
We are trying to cook everything from scratch which is yay for us healthy but a shitload of work.
No more spaghetti sauce from a jar - its made from scratch.
Oh yes - its work but hopefully worth it in the end - right?

3. Declutter my life.
I have lots and lots of crap. I need to organize said crap. Once the crap is organized, some crap must go. Some crap can stay.

4. Move my ass more.
This is one of those started and broken resolutions that I spoke about. On January 5th Ben and I started doing Pilates at 5:45am. We did 3 days and stopped for 2. Today we took a walk and used the exercise ball. I don't know if we will continue at 5:45 am. But we need to move MORE.
Fat ass = unhappy Sandra/

5. Read things that aren't plugged in.
I read a lot on line. This blog. Other blogs.
Magazines.
The paper.
Emails.
Facebook status.
IM that would make you blush and your eyes bleed from boredom.
But I have been reading the same novel since November and that's not good.
I got AWESOME books for Christmas - the Wicked series - and I need to read them.
The more I read the more I write.
Read. I need to read.

6. Take care of my money
I'm very private about money - so I won't talk about that here. But I need to admit that I need to handle it better.

7. Start saying NO
I need to say no to people when they ask me to do things that I don't want to do.
I also need to say no to people when I agree to things only to please THEM and not ME.
AND lastly I need to say no to people when its just TOO MUCH.
Examples? Oh geez - too many to count lately.
Like next week at work when I work on the Job Fair project whick I took on as the managing Programme Director only because I couldn't STAND to work as part of a team. I don't play well with others - this can sometimes, like in this case lead to a shitload of extra work.
Like this week when I will spend my Friday off (the first one I've had since November) opening car doors at the kiss and drop at school in the freezing fucking cold and then making snacks for 699 kids. I know I volunteer and I know I am the PTA-VP but sometimes I should just say no.
Like when the dishes pile up and I do them instead of going to bed.
Or when we need milk and I run out at 11pm.
Or when someone asks if I "mind" if they don't come in to work and I have to cover...
SO yes, no would be good. Occasionally.
See, I whine too much. Maybe I should make that a resolution!

8. Not say yes to everything
I need reminding.
The opposite of no is yes.
Sure also works.
I shall try to remember!

9. Not take on too much by learning to say, "Stop, that's too much"
See above.

10. Get a new job.
I might lose mine this year. Its a long story and I'll explain more later but basically, the government is moving stuff around. I may or may not have funding for my program after March 31st.
So - leaving might not be my choice.
But I'm going to be proactive and do something about it this time.
Honestly I have a great bunch of people who work for me - and I would miss them like nuts but I need to move on!

11. Get one more magazine to publish in.
Duh.
If I only write for Canadian Newcomer Magazine then I will be a specialist. I'm barely a professional, I don't want to be a pro-specialist.
I think I might head towards muscle or fitness publications...who knows! But I need to diversify!

12. Pay more attention to this blog. Sorry blog people. I neglect you when I get busy. I come, sometimes, only to bitch and complain. I sometimes pay more attention to facebook than I do you. So so so sorry. I promise to bring my joys and triumphs here as well as my tears and rants. Bad bad me.

Well - that's it. Startinggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg NOW!

Resolutions revisited

2009-01-02T15:27:00.002-05:00

My friend Dan has a blog. Its here. In his blog, he does a "review" of last year's New Year's resolutions and gives himself pass or fail marks on them. I've decided to do something similar and let you all know just how I did.
I like a good resolution. Although, again, as anyone who knows me will tell you I rarely if ever manage to follow through on anything I resolve to do. I don't think that the making of resolutions is my problem. I think that following through on the resolutions is.
Here are the eight things I resolved to do or not do in 2008

1. I will not quit this stupid job until I get another one - and I will not stay in this job cause I kind of hate it.
Well, you see, this is a tough one because round about February of 2008 I started to really like my job.
So the question of whether or not to leave because I hated it became a moot point. I didn't want to leave.
Then, in the summer I became the company privacy officer which is a job that I actually really really enjoy. Then there was absolutely no question. I couldn't leave.
So now, here I sit with unemployment looming (the programme contract has not been extended past March 31 - YET) and no job in my future.
I'm writing exams for my privacy certification on January 21st - hopefully once I have that my place in the universe will be more secure. But who knows, career wise, where the wind will blow me.
Verdict? Fail. But ultimately - passed.
2. I will do the dishes.
I actually DO the dishes. Yesterday I did them 4 times! Grumble.
I still leave them occasionally but - wonder of wonders - I sometimes get hubby or son #1 to do them too! Yay.
Verdict - totally PASSED!
3. I will move.
Alright. We didn't move. But but but.......
Fine!
Verdict - Failed.
But I'm not unhappy about it.
4. I will win the war with chemical addictions.
Oh hell who am I kidding - I barely lasted 12 hours without diet coke.
Sure, I tried about 4 times to give it up - but I couldn't do it. I have that monkey on my back that just won't die. He's got his greedy little claws in my liver and he's giving me GAS but he won't let go!
Bastard monkey.
At least I didn't take up any NEW addictions.
That's something....right? right?
Verdict - Big bad ugly FAILURE!
5. I will stick to this vegetarian thing.
I did stick to the vegetarian thing.
I even took it a step further and went VEGAN for a bit.
I fought my cheese addiction.
And on Christmas eve I had a piece of beef.
Then I had an egg.
So, for the most part, 6 days a week - I am a vegetarian.
Go me.
I lost weight as a veggie, felt better, medications changed and all kinds of good things.
But, somewhere near the end of the years..........to be continued.........
Verdict - Pass! (mostly)
6. My body will not betray me.
Well, It didn't betray me, but it wasn't very nice.
I'm thinner than I was last year at this time.
But the peri-menopause is setting in and I'm starting to "old up".
I'd say, at this point, the body and I are friends.
Once we got the all clear on the "dying" front, we made a truce. Anything she can dream up to challenge me, I can handle.
Verdict - Pass
7. I will yell less.
Meh. Yelling is under-rated.
I mean, who's to say that my screaming isn't SOOTHING to some people?
Who's to say that its not the only reason the kids do anything?
I can't say that....can you?
Verdict - Fail. Miserably!
8. I will write more.
This resolution I rocked the ASS of of!
I wrote more here and in my other blogs which, if you really wanted to read you could email me and I could direct you to...
I wrote stories.
I even wrote a flipping poem. And, it didn't SUCK. I know - pretty freaking amazing isn't it?!?
I started writing for Canadian Newcomer Magazine and they actually PAY me for it.
If you think of writing like figure skating - I am being paid to write - therefore I have effectively turned PRO!
The first time I saw my name in print in a magazine thrilled me. I wanted to run around and scream and show everyone. I couldn't - I mean - that would be pathetic....right? But I felt like I had done something HUGE! Something I've always wanted to do anyway.
Verdict - Passed with flying colours.

All in all, 2008 was good - uneventful - which was my wish last year.
2009 I would like to be a building year - for bigger and better things. But, my friends, that's another blog!

Music of my Life

2008-12-28T10:49:00.001-05:00

I have decided that this is my new theme song.

Thoughts?

Pink and Fuzzy

2008-11-26T01:04:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure you know this but I have a real soft spot for Pink. Yes, Pink - the singer Pink. I think her real name is Alicia or something.
I don't own any Pink cds - but I did enjoy the "behind the music" story on her.
And whenever I hear her stuff on the radio I think to myself - that girl can write.
I also think whenever I hear her perform - that girl can sing.
She can indeed.
But Perez Hilton (and yes I enjoy him too) pointed me to this song, Sober, and the matching video. His comments were akin to this video and song are both amazing - and he is right.
He's also right that the bit with her in the bed - is awesome.
I am not an alcoholic. I don't even ever really drink anymore.
I am not a crack addict or a heroin addict - but we all - each and every one of us do things compulsively.
I know I do.
And no, I am not about to confess my compulsions to you here. Did you really think that I would?
Why do we do it? Why do we drink? Why do we over eat? What are the triggers and the causes and what makes us end it?
I was at the Naturopath last weekend - more to come on that - I PROMISE - and she asked me if I loved diet coke for the caffeine or the bubbles or the taste? Is it because its cold? Nope. None of those things. I can't quite figure out my compulsion with it. I really have no bloody idea but I have to. I have to figure out what is triggering my compulsion to drink diet coke.
Okay - you got me - I confessed my love of a caffeinated soft drink.
But its more than that. I have a lot of compulsive things that I do.
I don't know what it is.
I do know that I am a people pleaser and nothing cuts me more than to say no.
I know that I'm a lazy person - and I hate to do actual work - like cleaning and things like that. I'd happily live in a pig stye. Happily but guiltily. I secretly want to be clean and tidy but at the same time could care less about it.
I'm a mess of contradictions.
I live a life of contradiction, compulsion and denial of both.
How's that for fun Pink?
Back to Pink.
I am posting it for you to talk to your demons.

Aahh, the sun is blinding
I stayed up again
Oohh, I am finding
That's not the way I want my story to end

The Wonderful Foods of Disney

2008-10-19T22:29:00.012-05:00

It has been forever and a day since we got back from Disney World (World not Land - Land is in California). We went back in August.

One of the things I did to prepare for the trip was research the restaurants we would be eating at. Partly out of vegan-necessity but part of it because if you are on the meal plan, you have to have reservations for your sit down dinners - or you have to wait forever. Fletchers hate to wait.

So, 2 months before I started searching the Disney website for places for vegans to eat at Disney. There are a lot actually.

But, before I start describing my glorious meals, I must tell you that I didn't keep completely vegan on vacation. HELL - I was on VACATION. I had some baked stuff that more than likely had eggs in it. AND I had some cheese. I love cheese. But I didn't cave and eat ice cream. Oh okay, I did have some whip cream but I'm sure it was edible oil product and not real cream. (God it was good though!)

First night...we went to the Animal Kingdom lodge to a buffet restaurant called BOMA. It is African themed and was recommended by the nice lady who was doling out the reservations on the Disney phone line.

Because it was African, there was a HUGE amount of vegan products. On my plate you can see evidence of the nice salad bar. And the selection of dips (black bean hummus, red bean hummus, and red pepper dip) on the right hand side. The giant flat bread that i dipped is the triangle on the top right on the table.

Next is corn bread, Spanish rice, ratatouille, baked pumpkin and of course, falafel and sauce. Mmmmm. I think I ate my own body weight in falafel!

I recommend Boma because the Animal Kingdom lodge was gorgeous. Because everyone in my family loved the food and because it was so unusual and delicious.

The next day we spent the day at Magic Kingdom. Lunch was an awesome veggie wrap with carrot cake and fries that I wish I had a picture of. It was awesome. Snack - funnel cake with powdered sugar. Messy but good.

And dinner was at the "Crystal Palace". This is a "character dining experience" which I wasn't sure we would like but, it was a buffet where we could watch the amazing fire works show so I thought it couldn't suck that bad.

Turns out, the kids loved the idea of visiting with Winnie the Pooh and friends while they ate.

The food was really basic but fresh and quite nice. I really liked the salads and the breads. Again, all you can eat. I should have stopped eating long before I did but hey, I was on VACATION!

Day 2 we were at a water park - Blizzard Beach where I ate the worst veggie burger of all time. Veggie burgers can be so very hit and miss no matter where you are. I don't blame Disney really.
That night we went to Epcot - to the Fresh Dinner place...I can't remember the name really. It was "family style" dining.

We had big salads with the largest cherry tomatoes I've ever had. They were also the best cherry tomatoes I've ever had. All served with hot biscuits and corn bread. Yes, I ate my own weight in corn bread.

Hubby and the kids got platters of steak, catfish, fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, roasted potatoes and veggies. Later we learned most of the food is grown underneath Disney in their super farm place - we went on a cool tour of the place.

I, as a veggie, got the best risotto ever. Made with veggie stock and peas and asparagus. SO good. Sure, it had Parmesan on it but it was so amazingly good I didn't care.

The next day we were at Hollywood studios. We had excellent Pizza and giant salads at "Toy Story Pizza Planet" which I didn't get pictures of. Frankly, we didn't like Hollywood studios much. We enjoyed the Muppets theatre and the stunt driver show but, we didn't like all the scary rides and the High School Musical crap. ICK.

Dinner was another story!

We went to this 50s diner. Very kitchsy. They check that you don't have your elbows on the table and that sort of thing.

Ben had the best fried chicken he's ever had - or so he said. He also fell in love with collard greens and bacon. Who wouldn't?

And his dessert was gorgeous...photo....

I think it was M&M brownie cake.

It was smothered in whip cream and came with ice cream too!

My dinner was good. It was a rice stuffed pepper with ratatouille (I should really learn to spell that word!) on the side. Good but not very filling.

I could easily have eaten two peppers. AND there was no protein in the meal at all. No beans. Nothing.

It was one of those meals that I'm glad we were on the meal plan or I would have been pissed at paying a lot of money for it.

Dessert was a different story...

I had an angel food cake - most likely full of egg whites - oh well - with berry compote. It was all fresh and yummy!

The dinner was good but we were all hungry later. Sorry Disney, but it isn't exactly filling in the 1950s!

We ate in the German Buffet the next night. It was a cool place where you share tables with other families. We had dinner with a nice lady (it was her birthday) and her daughter. They were from Florida and just there to celebrate her day.

It was a challenging meal for the family though. Wayne told sammy that the schnitzel was chicken nuggets and he ate it - but they he went back to get more, figured out it was pork, and was pissed off.

Ben ate his own weight in mini wieners and sauerkraut.

Wayne loved it all.

I liked the salad part. You can see here - pickled cabbage, roasted potatoes, pretzel bread, apple sauce, carrots, spetzel, and tomato salad. MMMM.

AND all of that while listening to a live polka band. Does it get any better than that?

The last night we went to Planet Hollywood in downtown Disney. I didn't get a picture of my meal. Or the meal of the guy beside me - although I wish I had!
The emo/semi goth kid sitting beside me had vegan fajitas. They fried up onions, peppers, broccoli, tomatoes and stuff and served it with tortillas, lettuce, guacamole and salsa. It looked amazing. And wasn't on the menu. If I'd known about it before I ordered, I would have had that!

As it was, I had yum-o-lish pasta with fresh tomatoes, herbs, peppers and mushrooms. Really huge portion and really really good!

Everyone liked their dinner there - and it was on the meal plan!

I really did think before I left for Florida that I would end up eating nothing but french fries and ice burg lettuce salads the whole week. Instead I had really good meals that for the most part were better balanced nutritionally than I eat at home. Bravo Disney for a good vegetarian menu!

Thanks giving feasts

2008-10-12T21:32:00.009-05:00

I had to look back and check last years blog to be sure that I wasn't repeating the same blog again and again and again - you know how easy it is to do that, right?

Today I was asked for my 5 things that I'm thankful for. And I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. Hahahaha. No really, today I want to talk about the Thanksgivings of my childhood.

As a kid we would work for a week on Thanksgiving projects in art. Making turkeys from potatoes or cut outs of our hands or tissue paper. Sometimes we even did American Thanksgiving crafts and made pilgrim hats and Indian head-dresses. In the 70s it was like we were drunk on the Brady Bunch or something....and we just blindly followed along untouched by the fact that Canadian Thanksgiving is a tribute to the harvest and NOT a copy of a Pilgrim dinner party held centuries ago.

In my family we never did anything normally. Not even thanksgiving. But normal, it has been said, is all relative. Right?

From the time I was born we would always take off on the Thursday before the Thanksgiving long weekend in a "convoy" of the Burt Reynold's variety with all of my cousins following behind. Vans and trucks with trailers attached, making their way across South Western Ontario from Stratford to Sarnia. We would snake our way across the highway stopping at the border to chow down on egg salad sandwiches, cut in thirds and wrapped in tin foil.

We drove across the border (at that time it was a hey-how-ya-doing no passport required kind of border crossing). Our convoy headed over to the state park on the St. Clair river. Camping. We were going camping.

Well, camping of a St. Clair family fashion. Sure, we all had campsites. We put all of our picnic tables together commune style and built a HUGE fire pit. BUT, our main purpose was not to camp in the chilly fall and enjoy the changes in the colours of the leaves. Nope. Our purpose for our visit was to shop. Every day. From sun up to sun down. Target. Kmart. Farmer Jack.

We would go from store to store and load up on whatever we could get our hands on. Cheap underwear and socks! Purses and coats and all kinds of clothes. And because even then in the 70s Americans were fatter than Canadians and we could get unusual and somewhat more fashionable clothing there.

My favourite Thanksgiving outfit was the matching swan sweatervests and checked baby blue gabardine pants my Mom and I got. Awesome early 70s chic!

Often we would go to Mary Maxim the world's (as far as we were concerned) largest craft store. There I began learning from my mother how to stock pile craft projects - so many that I can never be truly finished! When my Mother died - she had about 3 dozen balls of un knit yarn. Hoarding hobbies was a habit that neither of us have ever broken.

We ate well in the US. Sure we were "camping" and did the burgers and dogs on the bbq - but we ate at the Sweden House buffet. Back in the day it was the most awesome buffet ever. I am not certain but I think the lunch buffet was $5. Sure it was! Hell, I was a kid - I didn't know anything about money! It might have been free!

Funny thing about the Sweden House, it was not Swedish food. It was all the goodness of an American buffet. Yepper. Meat - carved meat. Many kinds of potatoes. And I guess there was a salad bar but I don't remember ever visiting it. Of course, all the dessert you could carry.

The blue slushies from Kmart stick in my head as a big deal. We loved those slurpee like drinks - so blue and totally full of air. I can remember getting one and sitting out in the front of KMart and waiting for my mother to meander around the store endless times. She'd pick up nylon nighties and packages of knee highs. It was a happy thanksgiving for all of us.

But no traditional turkey dinner. Not for the St. Clair family. Not ever. We would, on thanksgiving Monday, stop at the Arby's (this is before we had Arby's in Canada) and pick up a dozen junior Arby's sandwiches. Once we smuggled all of our purchases across the border, hidden in the bowels of the trailer, we would stop just outside of London and have our sandwiches. Mmmmm cold roast beef.

But no turkey.

Until one year when my mother got tired of hearing us whine and complain about not having the thanksgiving that all of our friends had.

So she cooked up a turkey on the Wednesday before we left. Put it, all wrapped in tin foil, into the cooler and surrounded it with ice packs.

Off we went to Port Huron with the thoughts of stuffing and turkey and gravy swimming in our heads.

"I'll make the potatoes on Monday" she said.

Every time all weekend someone tried to sneak a bit of turkey my mother smacked their hand. She guarded that turkey like a rabid Tiger guarding its prey- perhaps a dead Zebra! (okay gross analogy but I'm making a point) She was adamant that we have this dinner on Monday and she would be the one to ensure it was perfect.

Monday came - socks and underwear and nighties are bought - and we open the cooler. Out wafts the most horrific smell ever. I was about 11 years old and if I think about it today - 31 years later, I can still remember that smell. It was vile. Barfaliscious. Horrible. Just nasty.

Oh but it got better. As my Mother pulled back the tin foil, the entire turkey was GREEN - grass green with mould and slime. Just awful.

My mother cried.

We all laughed.

Then she cried and laughed. We all still laugh about the thanksgiving turkey that never was. We ate the mashed potatoes and of course, Arby's. Yum. Roast beef sandwiches.

Now the point of me telling you this story is that I wanted you to know, I put a lot of importance on the holiday meals I serve. I am likely compensating for a life time of Arby's. I also know that every time thanksgiving comes I think of my Mom laughing and crying all at the same time over that stupid green turkey. Its the company you keep not the food that you eat that makes the day the day and I give thanks for that.

Crying over you

2008-10-08T21:19:00.005-05:00

I was 14 before a boy made me cry.

He wasn't my boyfriend. He was just a boy that I knew. That I liked. He was my friend. Well, in retrospect, I suppose he really wasn't. He made me cry by telling me that no one would love me because I was ugly.

He used my insecurities to manipulate me.

He even had me come back for more - I needed more - I needed to have him completely tear me down.

He said that I wasn't the right person. That I didn't have what it took.

That it was something that I did.

And then he laughed. He laughed AT me - not with me - but at me. And that ripped my guts out through my nose.

I did what you are supposed to do. I kept a stiff upper lip. I said he was full of crap. I stared him down and sat eye to eye with him in full possession of every ounce of self confidence I could muster. I was un-affected.

And as soon as I left - I was a mess. I cried so hard I heaved sobs. I thought in the fashion of a 14 year old that it would be LESS painful to actually be dead than to feel what I was feeling just then. It very likely would have.

But, I stuck it out.

And amazingly, it happened again. Another boy. He and I were making out. He lifted my shirt and traced the silvery spidery lines of my stretch marks. And he laughed. I don't remember what he said - but I remember the laughing.

And at the time, I blocked it out, carried on, let him kiss me again and again and then again - as soon as I was alone - I exploded with that same painful sob.

I remember walking into the kitchen and cutting some cheese and getting some saltines - still crying crying crying and choking on the cheese and crackers the two kinds of salty mixing and making me gag on the tears.

I have a delicate relationship with crying.

I can cry during movies like a normal person. I cry in commercials for Hallmark and at funerals for ANYONE (its the least I can do for them). I cry gently and lady-like. I cry in a controlled manner. I cry for show. But some days I could cry like it was the last time ever.

That pain wrapped up in the same cocoon that contains all that hurt - whether its mine to feel or not - that's how it escapes.

I know I'm not unusual. I know that we all cry.

Hell, I'm crying RIGHT now. For no reason at all. I'm not hurt or sad or upset or lonely or disgruntled or even inconvenienced. I just feel intolerably upset.

My husband tells me that the problem is when I'm upset by something or someone - I don't SAY anything. I let it go. I pretend "fake it till you make it" and the "suck it up buttercup" with my "stiff upper lip" and all that jazz. And then, well then I just break loose. Cry like the blubbering puke I know deep down inside that I am.

I remember going to the doctor once and having my eyes dilated with orange dye. And when I left he handed me a giant WAD of Kleenex. He explained that I would need it later when my nose started to run - orange snot. Where do you think your tears go when you don't cry? Good question. They are just snot.

Today I cried. Tomorrow I'll cry again. For as many times I've cried I've laughed 100 times more. For all those days I forgot or just didn't get around to crying, my guess is that I blew my nose more that day.

As for those boys that made me cry? They were the first and likely not the last. I'm a delicate flower of a girl!

One, Two, Three and Four

2008-10-07T10:36:00.002-05:00

You think that the only truth that matters is the truth that can be measured.
If I'm right, then I win.
If, in theory, a 9 gets a 9
then a 3 gets a 3.
If, in theory, you can only move the spaces that you roll on the dice then shit isn't always fair now, is it?
What if a 2 gets an 8?
Is everyone around them bound to check thoroughly and completely that everything is even and in balance?
That rarely happens though, does it?
The Honeymooner's.
I guess really it only happens on tv - The Flintstones, Happy Days, King of Queens, According to Jim...there must be more.

Big fat guy with his trophy wife. How often does that REALLY happen?
Remember that song that went "Three dressed up as a Ni-eye-eeeye-ne"?
You know I had to google it to remember it was Trooper - right?

Well you can say what you like
Be what you wanna be
You can suit yourself baby
But you don't suit me

What makes a 3 a 3?
It's only physical right?

What you can see from far away.

Have you ever seen Trooper? Like they should judge, am I right?
But what is my point today?
The point is, today in the paper they said that the national association for fat acceptance is trying to convince everyone that fat can be healthy.

Steve Harper is running the country I love and he has the ugliest hair of anyone I've ever seen. Its like painted on Ken doll hair.

Madonna is hailed as superfit superstar 50 year old woman and I can see the individual strands in the muscles on her legs and it makes me have a little vomit in my mouth.
The point is, that once a man told me that I was "quite unattractive" and while I think his momma needed to teach him some manners before he gets himself killed, I think he was also a giant idiot.

Who is he to judge?

Well, actually, he is the judge.

And so am I.

And so are you.
Every last ugly warty pimple covered one of us can judge the other.
Because if the only truth that matters is the one that can be measured, today I am a 4.
Please feel free to score yourself below.

"You used to be fun"

2008-10-06T10:23:00.001-05:00

Many years ago, I used to be a lot of things.
I have always been tall.
I have always been fat.
I have always been smart, and funny, and nice.
But, much to my regret, I have not always been fun.
Oh I have had fun.
But I haven't always been fun.
Back in high school I knew that I was a weirdo. Frankly, I think most of us do know that. A whole building FULL to over flowing of people who feel that they don't belong. Taught by people who likely feel very much the same way.
I was not fun. I might have had fun. I even might have created some fun - but I, was not fun. I was scared and smart and studious and a slacker. I was a liar and a hard worker and even a thief. I was running away and looking for love but I was not FUN.
My favourite favourite movie of all times, the Sterile Cuckoo with Liza Minelli says it best and every time I watch it I think to myself "she gets me - she really gets me" but really, she likely gets us all when she says, "It's gonna be nice to get away from all these weirdos".
When I left high school, that's what I really thought I'd be doing. But little did I know I would be taking all the weirdos with me - they were weird only because I made them weird. I looked at people like they were different from me, which in all reality they weren't.
At university I spent more days terrified than not. My roommate scared me stupid. We were instant best friends that hated each other on sight.
I didn't have many friends there and the ones I did were weirder than I was.
The gay army cadet poet who lumbered around drinking root beer schnapps from a mug every night.
The girl next door with 6 inch high hair who wore blue mascara on her eyebrows and was having an affair with her 60 year old boss while dating his 20 year old son.
I wonder what ever happened to them?
At that point in my life I sought out like minded people -like the fat girl across the hall who tried to kill herself and had all gay friends- she was like me, right?
These people would not be my weirdos - they were just like me.
Like a pretty girl who wants to be beautiful surrounds herself with ugly girls, I wanted to be normal so I surrounded myself with the super weird. Did it work? No idea. But they were good people and I adored them.
Did I have fun? Sure. Was I fun? I think I was starting to become fun.
I was funny.
I was charming.
I was learning to be fun.
When I was out on my own I was alone and awfully lonely. At 20 I lived in the largest city in Canada with few friends. To be less alone I clung to the friends I had - I cultivated my gaggle of gays and became their diva hag.
I made myself into an amazing companion - I did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.
I had the best time - probably the best times of my life.
I just let stuff happen.
I enjoyed everything I did no matter how small or insignificant and as far as I can remember - that is when I used to be fun.
But life encroached on my fun.
I fell in love, which was fun. But it isolated me a bit from my friends.
Then I had kids - again fun - again isolating me from my old kind of fun.
The "let stuff happen" fell out of my life and was replaced with real grown up responsibility.
I am still tall.
I am still smart.
I am still fat and funny and nice.
But I'm the Vice Chairperson of the School Community Council.
And a Manager.
And a Mom.
I am an orphan.
And a wife.
And a Privacy Officer.
I have a mortgage and debt.
I have life insurance.
The dynamic of what makes up who I am has changed.
I still have fun.
Fun is karate tournaments.
Fun is this blog.
Fun is being with my friends the two times a year (maybe) I get to do that.
Am I still fun?
Not every day.
So when someone said "you used to be fun". They weren't wrong. I had no right to be as GUTTED as I felt.
I "used to be fun" though - I suppose I'll always have that.
In that same movie, Liza Minelli gives the most moving speech about how short life is. And it is. But, when I was fun, I had more than my one minute of good things. I know I did. Lucky me.

You know what the trouble is? The trouble is that probably all the good things
in life take place no more than a minute - I mean, all added up. Especially
at the end of 70 years, if you should live so long, you still haven't
figured it out. You spent 35 years sleeping. You spent five years going to
the bathroom. You spent 19 years doing some kind of work you absolutely
hated. You spent 8,759 minutes blinking your eyes. And, after that, you got
one minute of good thing.

Blog-sharing

2008-10-04T08:50:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I was off work and trying to clean up my horribly messy house. In the kitchen I found fruitflies and rotting bananas.
Banana cake, I said. Banana cake.

Not loaf - cake.

Too lazy to walk up the 15 stairs to look through my dozens of cook books and WAY too freaking lazy to sort through the shoe box of my Mom's recipes to find Shirley Pugh's banana cake, I googled Banana Cake on my laptop.

I found this site http://seasonalontariofood.blogspot.com/ and a recipe for the most deliscious banana cake ever.

I tried to "vegan it up" but I left in the eggs. Instead of buttermilk I used soy milk with 3/4 tbsp of cider vinegar added to it. And instead of the chocolate icing I used the "Vanilla Butter Cream Icing" from the book Vegan Cupcakes.

The cake is yummy and I didn't end up having to make banana smooties. Again.

Check out that other site too - last week there was a recipe for minted carrots that looks AWESOME........

Do Not Call ME

2008-09-29T19:08:00.008-05:00

I don't answer the phone in my own house anymore.
Why?
I hate telemarketing with a white hot burning passion that knows no bounds. I really do.
But, say those of you who know me, you used to work in telemarketing, you used to write telemarketing scripts....
Yes - totally true. I did. And, frankly, if I may toot my own horn, I was quite good at it.
I can write a script to sell anyone anything. And for every reason why they don't want to buy whatever it is my telepeople are shilling, I will give you 3 reasons why that reason isn't a good one. And, if you know what's good for you, and I will tell you that it is good for you, you will want to buy what they are selling. You will. Oh you may regret it later but for now, you will want it.
But in my house, we had 7 phone calls tonight.Three telemarketing in the half hour we were eating dinner - all pushing doors and windows - and like I said, all during dinner.
I say "hello".
They start their speech and I hang up quietly.
That was for the first 3 calls.
Then SeyHuhn called for Ben. I swear he talks on the phone more than I do.
One more telemarketing call from a real estate agent.
I did the same thing, hung up.
And another for doors and windows. By the time this one came, I was getting pissed off. Really pissed off.
I had been thinking about all the things that I had been reading about the miracle promised by the "Do Not Call Registry" through the government. I'm sure you all read all about it. Well, I was there in the very beginning. I remember going to meeting at the CMA - Canadian Marketing Association years ago and hearing about the do not call registry. You see, to people who market the world, the telephone is the holy grail of sales.
"The do not call registry is on its way!" spoke the scary man in his scary booming voice from the podium. The ominous tones of sure sales campaign failure echoed through the room in the airport hotel conference centre. You could hear, slightly, in the background the theme from Jaws...da duh....da duh....da duh....dun dun dun dun.......
We all sat, mesmerized contemplating careers in the wonderful world of home decorating or retail merchandizing. But no, they told us. This registry is not for us! Its not for "legitimate" marketers. Its for the fly by night window and door companies...THOSE are the companies that will go down when all of Canada signs on for the DNCL.
BECAUSE>>>>>>>>>>>
the DNCL does not stop your bank from calling you - that means insurance, credit cards and other bank products - they can still call.
Political parties can still call you for any reason.
Oh - and any place where you have a pre-existing relationship - they can call you. For example, your cable company, your phone company, your electric company or the company that provides your gas....all those people can call you.
And surveys - well any one can call you to conduct a survey.
Let me tell you how the call is going to go now....
Hi, can I speak to Mr or Mrs. Feltcher.....?
Hello Mrs Feltcher - I am
calling to ask you a few questions - do you have time to take a survey? Great.
When did you last purchase windows?
When did you last purchase doors for your home?

Then they start to sell you windows and doors

So essentially no matter what the hell you do, register or don't register for the Do Not Call List it will make NO difference or VERY LITTLE difference to how many and what kind of calls we get. And I got a bunch of calls in a row.
Back to my story - I was pissed.
The little girl started in on her spiel for, you got it, windows and doors. And I got pissed, sighed - one of those big heavy sighs and then I hung up.
I just hung up.
Not slammed down the phone but hung up.
Then came last call.
It was a man.
May I speak to Mrs. Fletcher.
Yes. Speaking.
And this is what he said to me
"Can I interest you in some free menopause medication bitch?"
and then he hung up.

When I *69-ed the number, of course, it could not be reached - the cornerstone hiding technique of the fly by night windows and doors people.
"Bravo" co-worker of frustrated telemarketing chick - "Bravo!"

Sure, I was a bitch, and I deserved the snarky call back.
Is the do not call list going to help that?
Nope.
People are still going to get paid minimum wage to make those calls.
And people, like me are still going to be bitchy and hang up.

In a Rush

2008-09-14T08:11:00.002-05:00

When I was in grade 7, back in 1979 (yepper) there was a big push on fitness in Canada - "Particip-action" they called it. Everyone was made to exercise. But, exercise in that nonsensical 70s way: situps and chinups, jogging and jane fonda-esque workouts. "Lets get physical physical" Perhaps this was the Olivia Newton John headband era - I can't really remember.
But anyway, my school started an after school running program as part of this shift to health and fitness sanctioned and supported by the government. So, like a good girl, I didn't join. Frankly, I'm sure you can guess this, I've never been much of a joiner or a jogger.
But, all the boys joined. And after school every day, they would run around the block 5 times. They ran around the block that I lived on. Lucky me.
What I decided to do to participate in the health and fitness craze was run home and watching from my front porch.
Each day when school ended and all the running keeners would sprint to the gym to change into their 70s adidas shorts and absorbent terry cloth wrist and headbands, I would sprint home and sit on the porch.
I would quickly change my clothes into something I thought of as alluring (at the time anyway). Shorts and t-shirts that showed off my 13 year old good legs and bigger than average boobs were what I picked. Sure I was already fat - but I could flaunt what I had even then.
I would poise myself in full view - sitting sideways on the stairs, Tab in one hand and novel in the other. I would pretend to read carefully chosen novels like Catcher in the Rye and Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Things that if you just were jogging leisurely by my house you could tell by the cover what i was reading.
Each day I did this for about a week - watching the joggers from overtop of my book - and reading nothing.
Eventually, a guy I knew from class, Mike and his friend Steve stopped to chat. "Want a drink?" I said.
Sure they did. And Steve stopped jogging and sat with me and Mike jogged away.
We talked about the novels I hadn't read. We talked about music. And we talked about the world in general.
I was in HEAVEN. I adored Steve and had forever. And here he was talking to me. Eventually, he stopped going jogging altogether. He would just come over. We would take my record player out on the front porch and listen to Rush - Moving Pictures. Later, we morphed that into Duran Duran, Rio and so many others. But, we started with Rush.
It was the very first time I used "sex as a weapon". The very first time I figured that the combination of my tits and my brains were a good thing. And that men liked both.
I was thinking about you the other day - thinking about how I haven't heard from you in ages. I need to put on my short shorts and a tight t-shirt and sit on my porch, pull out a novel and put on Moving Pictures.
But maybe you're still just jogging by my house. Not that you're not interested. But sometimes life just makes you stick with the program and keep jogging by.
Whichever, I do have my Tab and my novel, that I SHOULD really read - and of course, Rush to keep me occupied. I'll just wait here.

"the random wanting is my truth"

2008-07-23T20:06:00.001-05:00

"the random wanting is my truth"

The random wanting is my truth
it is - my truth

I am a big ball of half-complete and contradictory truths
Terms I confuse and over write
and right now all i want is to hear you beg
I will oblige
though i doubt that will resolve any of the contradictions

I doubt that it will fix the truth
truths
wantings
I doubt that it will solve a thing

The random wanting is my truth
The truth that will heal me
and no doubt set me free

Just a pair of earrings

2008-07-14T10:43:00.003-05:00

This week, as per my last post, I am waiting for my Aunt Jeanne to die. I started trying to think why she was such an important part of my life. She is my great Aunt, we really shouldn't be that close, right?
But really with the weird way that my family morphed into itself and over itself - its not all that illogical.
But my Aunt Jeanne was kind of special. She taught me important stuff about old fashioned manners.
Aunt Jeanne never forgot a birthday. We each got a card with $10 in it every birthday until we were 18 years old. We also got Christmas gifts - every year. At 18 we were cut off because we were adults. Fair enough.
But every year, she gave me a card.
As a kid I likely thought - "oooh free money!"
But, as an adult, I take that from Aunt Jeanne and I send out cards to my nieces and nephews every year with money or a gift. Birthdays and Christmas because I want to be THAT Aunt, just like Aunt Jeanne, that NEVER forgets.
My kids got the money in an envelope from Aunt Jeanne every year too. And while we only see her once or twice a year and they very likely forget who she is from visit to visit, since they have been old enough to draw I have made them send a thank you card. For the birthday money and for the Christmas money too.
This Christmas Sammy sent a letter thanking Aunt Jeanne for the Walmart gift card he got for Christmas and for the $10 he got for his birthday because he saved up all of this money and bought an Nintendo DS with Pokemon Pearl.
The next week I got an email from my cousin saying that Aunt Jeanne wanted to know what "those things" were. How cute is that?
But my kids got it - they GOT the need to write the thank you letter. You reward thoughtfulness with thoughtfulness back.
Getting stuff - even money - from someone thoughtful I hope makes them thoughtful too.
When I graduated from high school Aunt Jeanne and her husband, Uncle Ken, gave me a pair of earrings.
This was 1984 and everything was all Madonna-esque. Think Annie Lennox's punked up bright red buzz cut.
Pearl drop earrings.
UGH.
I accepted them, said my "thank you"s and never wore them.
The are pearls.
I was 17.
Ugh.
When I got married I wore my Grandmother's pearls. Do you know what went perfectly with them? The pearl drop earrings.
Over the 11 years that had passed, the pearls had yellowed slightly and they were just a perfect match.
I wore them for the wedding and then I put them away in their velvet box.
When my cousin Amy got married, do you know what went perfect with her wedding dress? Those same pearl drop earrings.
I'm not sure why Aunt Jeanne gave those earrings to me. I didn't get any other graduation presents - not even from my parents. But they meant something and I'm not sure what.
Who knows, maybe we pass them along generation to generation as the earrings that go with wedding dresses.
Maybe we should pass along Aunt Jeanne's rum ball recipe as the greatest rum ball recipe ever on the planet.
Maybe we pass along her New Years Day dinners or stories of her golfing and winning at the age of 80 and how she ran around town until just this past summer.
There are a lot of cool things we could share about her. But for me, her thoughtfulness is what touches me always.

A Matter of Time

2008-07-12T22:02:00.001-05:00

I got an unusual unwanted email tonight from my cousin Janice. She said that my Aunt Jeanne,her Mom, is in paliative care in the hospital and its only a matter of time.

Only a matter of time.

A matter of time.

Time for her, matters.

I get that time matters for all of us.

Its all we have really. But, for my Aunt Jeanne, this weekend, time is ALL that matters.

From what I hear, her family is with her.
From what I know, this is the worst time for them.

With my dad, when he had a matter of time, we sat with him around the clock and waited for him to stop breathing.

Just waited and every half minute, hoped that it would be his last gasp.

We just wanted him to stop. Stop having time to matter.

But as with all things, you can only control what you can control - and as we all know - no one controls a goddamned fucking thing.

Poor Aunt Jeanne.

Think about it.

As if this was your very last weekend.

The last weekend that mattered.

You can't GO anywhere.

You might not be able to talk.

You can't run or walk or be alone.

What do you want to do with your time?

If you can see your family - you can likely see them scared.

Do you want to die?

Do you just want to go?

Or do you want more time?

I don't have a smart smarmy answer for you.

I don't have anything clever to say about how I would like to eke out every last second I have to be with the people I love - and if you are reading this, you may very well be one of them.

I wish I could say I'd fight.

But I might not.

I might just wish the clock would run out.

Like it was just a matter of time.

I'm late I'm late I'm late

2008-07-06T09:52:00.002-05:00

I had really meant to write more on here. And I still do mean to write more. But, I've been working on this blog that is totally blocking me.
Its about when I was 11 years old - so, I'm reaching way way way back.
I'll finish.
I'll move on.
Until then.....enjoy this...

That is all....

2008-06-25T00:05:00.003-05:00

Its freaking one in the morning and I have been awake since six. I am not tired and I need to be awake again at, shockingly, 6am. Why can't I sleep?

_____________________________________________________________

Great now its fucking 2:01am and I am STILL awake.
I'm going to be a mess tomorrow.
Why dammit - why???

Solstice this

2008-06-20T20:57:00.002-05:00

The longest day of the year left this as my horoscope:

Gemini (May 21 — June 21)

You will improve awkward areas of your emotional world. At the moment, you are keenly aware of what's missing in your life, but soon you will realize how much you have.

_______________________________________________

I have awkward areas in my emotional world.
Things that I can't explain and won't.
We all do.
I swear that half of the life we live, we live in our heads and not out loud.
Half of all reality is fantasy. That's what makes it fun.

The things I do.
The things I say.
The thoughts I think.
All of these are very different.
Only the thoughts I think actually belong to me. Right?

When I write down what I think, it stops being mine.
I write too many things.
And then I portion them out in tiny packages to different people.
Even a grocery list.
Its a sharing thing. And frankly, I don't want to share everything.
Nor can I.
Nor should I.
I'm trying, again, to find my balance folks.
Hang in there....we're getting closer.

So on a day that is all about EXCESS - the longest day of the year - the most sunlight - the biggest pleasure - I give you all a giant push towards the sun.

From Fourty-One to Fourty-Two

2008-06-10T22:09:00.003-05:00

Today I am 42. Fourty two freaking years old.
I looked and listened for a song that would capture the last year of my life. I toyed with more Concrete Blonde, went through all of the Stars that I know and love. Hell, I even thought about some Blue Rodeo for old time's sake. But nothing quite hit the roller coaster year I've had.

I went back, and frankly thanks to the blogosphere you can too, and re-read last year's birthday stuff - just to get a feel for where my head was. I thought about where I was and where I am today and I came up with this pearl of wisdom for you.

There is nothing quite as sobering as a brush with almost near kinda death to make you see what a crazy insane psycho bitch you have the potential to be.

No.
Wait.
That's not it at all.

Love will save the day, set you free and sustain you.

Well. That's closer anyway!

Anyone who knows me even a little knows that my one real rule in life is that everyone must love me. The idea that someone doesn't like me is really the worst thought ever! I take what affection and attention that is offered and I revel in it - I really honestly do. I seek it out. I embrace any kind of love. In fact, I've said a tonne of times before - do we find love often enough that we can afford to ever turn it away? No matter who it is?

Well, with age comes wisdon and this year I changed my attitude a bit. I started to try to find love that made me FEEL loved and in turn made me feel good about myself.

I mean all kinds of love. Friends - family - where ever love finds us these days.

This past year I took a new attitude with my family. I love them all - each and every one of my extended family: cousins, aunts, uncles, dead parents, divorced in laws, estranged brothers. But, I'm not going to force myself into places I don't naturally fit. My kids need family - as much as I do. But they need it to be effortless and comforting not forced and surreal.

They say the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Well, I can't throw holiday parties that my mother would love. I just don't have it in me. And you know, she's never going to fucking show up. So, it doesn't really matter does it? Its time I started pleasing myself - not my dead mother.

When I went to my cousin's funeral and my Aunt said that they were all "so proud" of how I'd handled myself in spite of the shitful fucked up hand I'd been dealt (paraphrasing of course gentle reader - my "Auntie Lois" would NEVER in a million years say shitful or fucked up)I cried for days like the blubbering puke that I am. Why? Not because she was right, although in hindsight she likely is, but because I needed that approval and validation from them - I sucked it up.

After I gave my head a good shake (read: Rick told me not to be such an idiot) I realized how pathetic that is. I don't need what essentially amounts to pity. I know I cope amazingly well. Somtimes I forget. But I KNOW I rock the crisis hard core. I am "Crisis chick". I should get a t-shirt - maybe even a cape.....hm.

I also made some decisions on how I manage my personal relationships. I know I hurt people who love me and who I love. I didn't mean to because, hell people, if you are following at all, I just want to be loved, but not all love is good for you. Some love was not good for me.

I did some pretty fantastically stupid things this year. And NO I am not going to make you a list! Suffice it to say that each and every wrong turn I made, I made a note of. I will try not to do it again. I can't say that I won't because I am the queen of unfulfilled promise, but I do have geniunely pure intentions.

I had, what some might say, a triumphant year for a 41 year old woman.

I discovered new things, bits and peices of confident sexy me that haven't seen the light of day in forever. Those peices of me own good high heels, push up bras and rock the short skirt. I like that girl. She's fun and flirty and confident and pretty fucking brilliant and in her fourties. She's not ashamed of her age, she's not too old to do anything, she's got wrinkles and sags and doesn't give a rat's royal ass. Because after all this time she's figured out that it really IS what is inside that gives her the bravado. She forgets sometimes and still wears crocs but I think we'll keep her.

I made moves to take this chick places. I took her to the magazine and wrote an article they actually published. And sure, its in ESL level 4 english but its a start, right.

I have read, this year, peices that have inspired me. I have collaborated. I have shared things I never thought I'd have the courage to share. I have opened myself, my heart and my soul to people in ways I never thought I would and for that I am eternally grateful. I FEEL exceedingly excessively loved.

Sometimes life is about opportunity.

I had tremendous opportunity this year. I took them. I didn't solve all my problems or make the world a better place or cure cancer or feed the homeless. None of those things. But I did the best I could.

My friend Dan said this today: "you just have some "tweaking" to do. not on your blog. but on life..." And, I think, he may be right.

Is it too corny to say that I'm taking steps in the right direction? I'm surrounded by people I love who love me back and they are walking with me where I need to go.

The Magazine

2008-06-09T19:22:00.003-05:00

I haven't been blogging much lately. Okay, let me correct that. I have been blogging plenty - just not hitting the magical "Publish Post" button.
Why?
Because they SUCK ASS.
No, I'm not being self deprecating. I'm being honest. They do.
They are mostly whiny and snivelly, self indulgent and sad.
Why again?
Because that's how I feel.
I feel just overwhelmed and under achieving.
If I have let you down recently I apologize.
I'm doing an awful lot of that to myself too.
I'm taking some time to regroup.
Re-think.
Re-write.
In the mean time - please feel free to peruse Canadian Newcomer Magazine and my fascinating article on summer festivals.