I’m still waiting for the fateful call to have the ever-anticipated hip replacement, but until that blissful day arrives, I languish in renovations and baby-ness. Two totally opposite ends of the spectrum. Kitchen renos are in full swing and have been frustrating and exciting, baffling and exhausting. It’s a roller-coaster ride fit for the amusement park from hell, but we have endless amounts of hope and anticipation of a clean functional space. We also yearn for meals where we don’t have to worry about running the microwave and electric skillet at the same time without blowing a fuse. Which usually happens. It also conks out if the toaster and kettle are running. Better days, people. Better. Days.
Our skittishness with becoming overly excited with an impending birth in the family is well-founded, but it’s getting increasingly difficult to stem. Everyday the news is better, we hope for a healthy and happy baby girl by Christmas. A little Christmas Elf. Aww. We continue to hope for the best and try not to default to the negative Nelly tugging on our elbows. It’s hard to remain nonchalant about a life-altering event, but here we are. Going about our day-to-day, trying not to buy every baby-gadget on the market or every little fluffy pink tutu out there. Yeah. Sure. I’m calm. Trying not to ask D1 every day how she’s feeling, did the baby kick today, are you eating enough…Nana needs answers! Negative Nelly whispers in my ear every now and then.
The ‘hood continues to regale us with unending episodes of wayward pirate cats shitting on patios and meowing until dawn. I fucking love it. The peeps are not impressed with the stray cat strut happening and decide to post every incident of feline rebellion they witness. It’s a little over-the-top but makes for great fodder. I choose not to comment, but it takes immense restraint not to. I’m still holding out for the nicky-nine door extravaganza, but the summer came and went with no such news of the heathens out to wake the ‘hood. At least the hoodlums managed to keep their pants on in front of grandma…which, could be me next year. Watch out, youngins’ I’ll walk very fast after you! Or I’ll whip out my phone and get a pic! Hubby says I’m not allowed to plaster that on FB, but I wonder if printing out the photo and pasting them around the ‘hood would be, ok? Hmmmm….
Nana is on it!
Fall is knocking louder at the door and I’m anxious to let her in with all the pumpkin spiciness I can muster. Get a sweater it’s chilly out there. Apple cider candles, the warmth of a fire, cozy blankets and oh, the fall Hallmark movies that will drip with cheesy romantic flannel shirts. Bring. It. On.
There is so much to look forward to! Survival is key here. I’ll need wine and chocolate…and a pirate cat to keep me entertained. Now if the power will just stay on so I can heat up my chicken fingers and toast some bread…
The winds of change are bringing out the flowers, the green grass, and my abhorrent lack of patience. Time marches steadily on and as if there was not enough angst and anxiousness whispering among the buds of the trees, I have life events that are tugging at my pant leg. It’s the inevitable curtain of change tumbling down that sends everyone careening to the safety of backstage and I’m not sure I’m ready. Hold on a minute. Where are you going?
The kids are growing up and out, the job is getting so ingrained in my daily existence I don’t understand how the new people don’t understand. It’s because they haven’t been here for a millennium. It’s because I’m so used to working alone that I know all the procedures BECAUSE I INVENTED THEM. I made them so my life at the office would be an efficient life at the office not a “dafuq-is-this-shit?” kind of vibe. And now, as I head into the ‘cruising’ part of my professional life, I’m left explaining myself to the newbies, who with their wide puppy dog stares and apparent need to question my motives behind the filing organization, stand with notepads in hand and jot down what I say. Really? Ya need to write that down? Okay, you do you.
That seems to be my new motto. I don’t have the patience to explain why the pencil sharpener is on the desk beside the door, and not on the other side of the room. But if you need to have a new flow, a new Fung-shui kind of moment, you do you. Give ‘er. I’ve done my part. I’ve contributed the better part of my daily presence to creating a good space, making sure everyone understands the role, and ensuring people are comfortable. The desks are new, the space is clean and new, and the files are current. You wanna add a fish tank, or new pictures on the walls, awesome. Do that.
My body has decided to stage a revolt and the ultimate coup has resulted in seriously arthritic hip. The universe has played the last ace and is reveling in my newfound awkward and slow gait, throwing the final blow with a two-year wait time for a replacement. Thanks, Healthcare. It’s awesome being fifty-five and walking like a ninety-five-year-old grandma. I get sympathetic looks and pitiful glances from the public who feel I must need help. I must need supervision and a trained aide just to walk in the mall. Somebody help the old lady before she throws out her other hip! Dude. Chill.
My family takes a much different approach. Their sympathy has turned to mocking. Their pity has evaporated into exasperation. Especially with all the cane-dropping going on. They’re more likely to mock my limp and curse the cane. It’s a never-ending battle between trying to maintain a sense of dignity while good Samaritans try to rescue the beast from the floor. Not me, the cane. The bane of my existence. The very thing that helps me to walk but causes me to swear. Thanks for feeling bad for me, but let it stay there and rot. That thing clangs and drops without any warning leaving people scrambling to pick it up lest I fall to my demise. PLEASE LET ME FALL. I could get a new hip faster if it’s actually broken instead of just rotting slowly away. Seriously. DROP ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS.
When days are warmer than freeze-your-ass-off degrees, I find myself lamenting the loss of the ability to run. To get outside and feel the breeze in my face and hear the music in my ears, my running shoes pounding on pavement, playing chicken with oncoming traffic. I miss it. I also miss the ability to walk with stuff in both hands instead of making multiple trips carrying things in one hand or asking for help. Simple things that others may not think of, that I never thought of, is now at the top of my list of things to remember. Getting older sucks.
Change is hard. Life is hard. Using a cane is driving me mad, but better days ahead. The Summer will arrive for a day or two. The sun will beat down and the birds will sing. The flowers will bloom, and we will be able to sit outside with a cold beverage and wonder what we were complaining about. The kid will get into Medical School, the daughter will get married, and daughter squared will get her dream job. AND I’ll get a new hip. It will all happen. Someday.
In the meantime, I’m looking at upgrading from a cane to a Segway. Thoughts?
With the uptick in COVID-19 cases in our province and the heightened alert of everyone regarding isolations, I think it necessary to concentrate on what we can control. We can control our behaviours, ie, wear a mask and wash our hands. We can also control how we react to situations, ie, restraining the urge to gossip about how cases evolved or how someone was irresponsible with lax protocols. We can also choose to remain positive and upbeat, and maybe spread a smile instead of a virus.
In the spirit of maintaining sanity and spreading joy not disease, I’ve concocted a Top 10 list to lighten your spirit. Or make you drink. Either way, it is a real mood enhancer. Enjoy!
Now go wash your hands!
Top 10 Tips for a Happy 2021
10. Last year is so last year – Resist the urge to look into the rear-view mirror with horror-stricken eyes on a year that dragged its ass into your world and ate your last donut. Instead, look ahead to all the possibilities that are laying at your feet. “What, a new brand of wine? How nice!” See? POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.
9. You don’t have to visit family, unless you want to – “Uh, I can’t come over, Aunt Martha. COVID, remember?” Sometimes, it’s better to stay away from family. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or something like that. Maybe Aunt Martha was nasty to you one too many times, so visiting her can be off the table with no guilt. A GIFT FROM THE UNIVERSE.
8. Outside doesn’t have to be scary- Even in the grips of winter, the outdoors can trigger all kinds of good feelings. Go for a walk in the woods, (not in the creepy woods, but in the nice bright ones with sunshine) snowshoeing (Hubby bought us both a pair to try. Should be interesting) or take the doggo out for a trot. The fresh air will do wonders for your body and your mood. You won’t act like such a twatsicle when someone asks you a simple question, if you’ve just spent half an hour laughing at your neighbour for falling on her ass in the snow. See? I’m helpful.
7. You can choose to tell, ‘Dry January and February and every other month’ to Fuck-off – It seems to be all the rage, now. People are posting about not drinking for the next few months because everyone consumed copious quantities of alcohol during the initial COVID lockdown and thereafter, BECAUSE IT WAS NECESSARY TO KEEP LIVING. STOP THE MADNESS. We are still in a pandemic and while I applaud the do-gooders who are keeping themselves ‘dry’ for a cause or just for themselves, I am choosing to drink my face off. I’ll be posting my weekly posts about how much wine I consumed on the weekend. I’m helping to keep the liquor stores stocked and the wine prices lowered while the rest of you ‘dryers’ are abstaining now, so when you do return to drinking, there’s not a shortage. Can you imagine if everyone stopped drinking? The liquor stores would stop ordering supplies, because of lack of sales. People will be laid off. The public would resort to standing outside the liquor stores wondering where all the wine went and why the shelves remain empty. They’ll be brandishing cocktail forks and little paper umbrellas protesting the government and their lack of response to a dire situation…I JUST SAVED ALL OF THAT FROM HAPPENING BECAUSE I KEPT DRINKING. YOU. ARE. WELCOME.
6. Try something new – It can be a new hobby, a new tv show, a new movie, a new hairstyle, a new spouse…I kid. I kid. A little bit of change can make a big difference, so embrace the time to try something you’ve always wanted to try. Paint, draw, write, dance; something that’s different and maybe challenges you. I’m going to try drunk snowshoeing. See? Add alcohol and ANYTHING can be fun. See #5.
5. Redecorate – I’m talking rooms in a house, here. I redecorated the front room of our house and although it was a lot of work, it’s one of my favourite places to hang out, now. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, Hubby has decided to take it one step further by redoing all the floors in all 3 bedrooms on the second floor. With hardwood. Meaning he is responsible for tearing up the carpet, because he wanted to even though SOMEBODY told him not to. Yay. So, he’ll be tearing up carpet and I’ll be drinking because nothing says, ‘support for Hubby in his new endeavour’ like a wife standing by with a full glass of wine repeatedly reminding him, “I told you not to do that by yourself.” So much fun!
4. Rest – Sometimes, just taking a day to sit and watch the snow fall or watch a mindless tv program can ease your brain and give yourself a much-needed break. No need to work endlessly or try to keep yourself too busy. There’s such a thing as burning out and you do not need to be everything to everyone all the time. Take it easy. *sip, sip*
3. Get some exercise – I’m not talking about a marathon or the World Body Building Championship, just move a bit. Go for a walk, take in a yoga class or something to get your heart rate up. You will be surprised how much better your feel afterwards…and, you will have burned enough energy to have that glass of wine. Or five. It’s all about balance, people.
2. Clean up – It’s a large task and one that I abhor. It’s time-consuming and tedious, however, decluttering has advantages beyond a tidy house. The process of purging gives you a sense of purpose. You have a task that keeps you focused on the activity of improving your space. AND, what you decide to toss may still be appropriate for donation. Check with your local Salvation Army or Diabetes Association for their guidelines during COVID. You could be making a big difference in someone else’s life, not just your own.
1. Choose to be happy – I read this somewhere and there’s elegance in its simplicity. You can choose to be happy instead of lamenting the situation you find yourself in. You can choose to smile instead of frowning your way through the day. You can choose to lift someone up with a positive word or a kind gesture instead of begrudging her. It’s simple. And it doesn’t cost anything. A win-win all around.
Those are the tips to keep your spirits up and your mood in-check. When in doubt, there’s wine.
Like anything worth doing,it’s worth doing well. And doing something ‘well’ is quite relative a term. And I hate starting sentences with ‘and’. Ugh.
As I’m feverishly writing my next entry into the anthology of ‘Books People Will ReadAfterI’m Dead’ I’ve been missing events and goings on to which I really should have been paying more attention. As I was downing my glass of wine the other night, someone mentioned something aboutTikTok. I’m thinking Nanny’s noisy clock that is currently hanging in her kitchen and dings every BLESSED HOUR ON THE HOUR, but no. TikTokis an app for lip-syncing and karaoke-gone-awry. It’s asocial media app that lets a person download a video of someone singingbadly toN’Syncor the Backstreet Boys or maybe amore currentmusicianlike theBiebs. I’m thinking of doing ‘Bye-Bye’ ala JT with the curls and the baggy jeans and the fancy-dancymoves.
I could joinTikTokand connect with the peeps who arejammin’ to NKOTB andIT’SBRITTANY, BITCH. Maybe somebodysingin’ some Alanis…Yeah. “Isn’t it Ironic? Don’tyathink?” I could so NOT do that. Well. Not well. At all.
Maybe I’ll doa video of Mags when sheborksat the ‘hood dogs. She couldbe the next big thing! Add some music and BAM she’s the four-legged Madonna of the doggo-world. Maybe she could do a whole rap-thing.Instead of ‘Lose Yourself’ she could do ‘PooYo’self’. EPIC.
I’ll keep brain-storming some ideas whilst desperately trying to stay on-trend. Do we still say ‘whilst’? Ugh.
I’ve been attending the same Bootcamp for close to four years, now. It’s been a great experience for me and I’ve learned quite a bit. I now have a new appreciation for exercise and the complexities that it contains. I appreciate good form and I am more self-aware. There is another side to class that no one talks about…
Let’s face it,
shit goes down when you start moving your body in ways that you never could
have imagined possible. Naturally, as a
woman of a certain age, bodily functions can go a little…astray….and, at the
least opportune time.
Here is a Top Ten
list of Shit that happened to me during Bootcamp class that should never happen
to anybody. Ever.
Assistance- This occurred in the first
year of class and I was a newbie in dressing in those tight pants. I erroneously went on-line and adhered to
advice given by a twenty-something about not wearing underwear under the
tights. That way no panty-lines! Yay! I thought. Also at this time, I was a bit…leaky. I’ve had three children. I was nearing fifty, please. I wore ‘assisted’ apparel for my lady bits so
if any ‘leaking’ happened, I was prepared.
So, I stuck one of those babies to my tights. No undies, remember? Fast forward to half-way through class and my
‘assisted’ gear had traveled. Holy
fucking God it had unstuck from my tights and traveled down my leg to the
inside of my knee! I distinctly remember
doing jumping lunges with that thing stuck to the inside of my leg and thinking
“well, at least it will absorb my knee sweat…”
I walked out of class with it still stuck to the inside of my leg and
wondered if anyone noticed that my right leg looked a little…thick.
9) Braille boards
are a good idea – I can’t see shit when I remove my glasses. I don’t wear my glasses in class and for four
years I haven’t been able to read the nice little whiteboards the Coach places
at each station. I’m getting better at
watching what others do before I get to that station…or I improvise until Coach
corrects me. I look like Mr. Magoo for
most of the class.
8) What’s that smell? – Good diets + ab workouts = explosions that inevitably happen. It’s a good thing the music is loud and it brings a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Explosive’ Stars… Ventilation. Good ventilation….
7) My hip doesn’t
do that. Ever. – I have arthritis in my
left hip and it just doesn’t want to move on some days. Sumo squats become semi-sumo with a little
squat for good measure. I fake it
6) Remember what?
– With new exercises comes new things to remember. I’m still trying to remember what day it is,
let alone an exercise that I’m going to get around to in fifteen minutes. Let’s be real. I’ll watch but then forget and then make
something up that kinda resembled what she showed us at 5:50 Goddamn AM when my
brain was still back in my bed and my coffee was calling my name. AND NOW WITH THE MICROPHONE, I CAN’T TELL
WHERE SHE IS IN THE fucking ROOM AND I CAN’T GET AWAY WITH IT AS MUCH. Just sayin’…
5) Sweat is normal – Come on, it’s the body’s
natural expression of “FOR FUCK’S SAKE LADY WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO
ME?! I’M LITERALLY CRYING NOW. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY PLEASE
STOP!” This is how I imagine my body reacts to me
working out. It’s crying and is begging
for me to stop. And then I look around
and some of the ‘younger’ ladies and somehow, they haven’t even broken a sweat,
yet. I KNOW IT’S ONLY BEEN TEN
MINUTES. BUT IT’S BEEN TEN MINUTES! How are you not sweating right now? Yes, that’s my butt mark on the floor. You. Are. Welcome.
4) That’s not
crotch sweat- I refer you to #1 and sometimes leakiness is a part of sweatiness
and we older ladies are keeping it classy by referring to it as ‘The Lady
Trickles.” Feel free to print that on a
3) Hair floor
catastrophes- What’s with all the spare-hair on the floor? I’ll tell you what- your hair falls out after
working out so much. It’s trying to
escape the pain. My hair is contained
most of the time, but some days it has a mind of its own and can’t control its
excitement for Burpees…
mysteries – I get tangled up in the TRX.
I call the exercises that are complex and compound “Half pike with an
explosive star extravaganza” because I can’t remember the appropriate name nor
how my arm is supposed to reach then stretch then do that bicep mid-air curl
with a half-twist…thing. Yeah.
1) I’ve fallen and
I can kinda get up but only because you shamed me into it. Bitch – I say that with the utmost affection
and gratitude. Maybe. Most days I would never get up off the floor
but I see everyone else doing Deadman Burpees from Hell and I think, “Dafuq are
you Queens doing? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD
STAY DOWN! STAY DOWN!” But no….EVERYBODY gets
back up and they do it all over again.
That’s it. That’s the list. I hope it brought a smile and we can all get
real with our bad-selves and Lizzo our way through the rest of our