The Journey of Self-Discovery

 

As we get older, I think we realize the person we have become is different than the one we envisioned ten, twenty or even thirty years ago.  We aren’t as rich as we thought or driving that Jag we had hoped.   Our professional aspirations may have hit a few snags along the way and we opted for security instead of enjoyment, or the opposite and opted for enjoyment instead of security.  We didn’t marry that guy or venture to the outreaches of the universe…or join the Peace Corps because the best friend at the time, had the logical explanation of running water was obsolete and showering might be an issue.  Duh.  I kinda knew that…and who wants to bother saving the world anyway, when you have more important things to do like date that guy who says he’s applied to be a Mountie?   Gawd, who wants to date a pre-Mountie?    Well….

Maybe one date.

Whatever it was, the path we may began has somehow veered off into directions that have been surprising or disappointing, depending on your point of view.  Spending valuable time and energy wondering what may have been is a waste and I try to concentrate on the here and now.  Not the yesterdays or the last weeks.  Not the tomorrows or the next weeks or even next years.  Today.  What’s happening today?

My interests have become varied and I’ve often switched creative ventures, balancing the need to be alone with the need to be writing or painting or doing something crafty.  It’s weird.  I was never a crafty person, but I’ve found lately I enjoy the solitude of sanding a chair or refurbishing a dresser.  I like the work with my hands and the dust on the floor.  I like the smell of the paint and the different looks I can make if I mix two colours together.  It makes me feel productive….accomplished? Maybe?  I don’t know.

It’s not something I’ve ever imagined myself doing, but somehow it comes naturally to me.  I look for pieces to redo.  I get complaints from the fam that there is simply no room for another piece of furniture, but I look anyway.  There will always be room…somewhere.

The dreaded “M” word is knocking on my door and a day does not go by without another exclamation of ‘oh, what fresh hell is THIS’ from my lips.  Now, it’s a rash…next week it will be the ever refreshing onslaught of hot flashes, the week after….who knows?  THAT’S WHY WE NEED HOBBIES. AND WINE.

To keep from maiming those around us…

And to keep us sane.  Busy.  Useful.  Needed.

So, on your journey into Self-discovery, don’t dwell too much on the past and concentrate your energy instead on the here and now.  The accomplishments you have achieved, the awesome person you have become and are still becoming.  The people around you who have been influenced and are touched by your presence.

AND, for those of you who are encountering the ‘M’ word, or are about to, remember WHORE…

W- ine

H-obbies

O-ccupied

R-efreshed

E-nergetic

Because without Whore, we would simply be OLD ladies repainting shit.

Ugh…

My mason jars are apparently out of control….

chair

Bestie’s refurbished rocker…I think I need a matching one…

 

I Call That Friday Night

The crick in my neck has me walking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame this week.  I don’t remember scaling the Empire State building or wildly ringing bells at a cathedral…but then again, it doesn’t mean I didn’t do it.  Just that I don’t remember….

I read today this photographer has just released an exhibit where he had friends drink wine and then photographed them at different stages after one glass, then two then three.  I CALL THAT FRIDAY NIGHT.   He turned it into a photographic portrait of alcohol-induced silliness and got hundreds of fans.  That is what planning does… I take pics on my iPhone and plaster it on FB like normal winos.   This Friday night is going to be very interesting…I’ll have to make sure the iPhone is charged and invite some friends over…Say, “Red-stained-teeth-are-a-few-of-my-favourite-things” peeps!  I wonder what a pic after five glasses will look like?

monkey pic

Oh.  ALREADY BEEN DONE.  Sorry.

I’ve been binge watching Scandal and I think I’ve started ranting like Olivia Pope’s dad.  He has the most epic speeches I’ve ever heard on a television show.  The “you are a boy” speech that saw him project his deep-seeded rage and ire upon the  Prez for holding him captive to help Olivia assist in her mother’s escape from her imprisonment (big mistake, there Miss O) was nothing short of inspiring.  It was practically Shakespearean in its delivery…If you have never heard it, try it here.

So, of course I hear this rant in my head when somebody is less than intelligent in their decisions regarding, anything really.  “You. Are. A. Boy.”   I need him to follow me around so I can have him recite it at random when I want him to lay it out there… “You. Are. A. Boy.”  Hubby forgot to put his socks in the hamper?  “You. Are. A. Boy.”   The guy in front of you in line at the grocery store has more than 15 items in the 12 items or less line?  “You. Are. A. Boy.”   The Personal Trainer at the gym you just joined told you that you had the lungs of a 65 year old smoker? (Actually fucking happened.  I shit you not.  I used some reeeelllly interesting words in my head and heard this ENTIRE speech)  “You. Are. A. Boy.”   I like it.

Memorize it.  Breathe it.  Live it.

You are a boy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We Need A Dumbledore Right Now!

To say that I am dismayed and disheartened by the events in the upcoming U.S. presidential election would be an understatement.  More like appalled, disgusted, throw in some terror-induced exclamations of  “OH MY GAWD WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE!” and then back to disheartened.  I’m on a roller coaster of emotions ranging from broken-hearted to horrified.  AND, I’m not alone.   I’m hoping Canada will respond with some mad wall-building and sarcasm aimed at He Who Shall Be Named Asshole.  Seriously.  How is this even happening?  I’m thinking the Americans must think it’s all a big joke and he will go away with a wave of a Dumbledore hand and his magical wonderful wand.  It’s getting so that every time we look at a news outlet, he is screaming out some obscenity or random idiot remark with a fist raised in ire and terror.  Gee…I seem to remember seeing some shit like this before in history books and news reels from say, 1939-1945???

We need a Dumbledore right now.

Dumbledore

Be gone, He Who Shall Be Named Asshole! 

And with all of the shittiness with the economy and declining oil prices and the stories of horrendous treatment of girls and women in India with another gang rape, and ugh…it goes on and on.  The atrocities of society are starting to outweigh the goodness in all of the media.

We need to turn that around.

Let’s bring some goodness and humanity back into the world.

First, He Who Shall Be Named Asshole must say ‘Adieu’ to the political landscape…I don’t care how, I don’t care where…just go.  And while you’re at it, take all of those people who are called your ‘supporters’ with you.  AND, take the men of India who think women are dirt, down the mountain on a bumpy and ball-slamming ride on a flat inner tube.  AND, take all the murderers, gun-toters, baby killers, puppy-millers, kitten-haters and general dregs of our society down that same mountain in flat inner tubes with the rest of you!  There. That’s better.

Now, the rest of us peace-loving and generally good citizens of the world will do what we do best.  Smile.  Say nice things to make people’s days go better.  Take care of the sick and wounded, help old ladies cross the street, feed the puppies and kittens and the starving children and work for world peace, ‘CAUSE DAMMIT THAT’S WHAT WE ARE SUPPOSED TO DO.

Pug froggies

Because, who doesn’t love puppies dressed as froggies?  WHO?!

Now, if you don’t mind we have a lot of work to do.  So stop distracting us good people with your words of hatred and abominable rhetoric and take off, eh!

My head hurts.

bunny

Cuteness.  You. Are. Welcome

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Don’t Ask Me To Carry the Cake

I live in a place where sunshine is a rare event, so when we do get it, we should declare it a holiday and allow everybody to run around in it, lounge in it, drink in it, barbeque in it, garden in it, walk in it, swim in it and basically enjoy the fuck out of it. Especially the drinking part…especially that. So the sun actually appeared in the sky today and I had to stay at work. Apparently the whole, ‘It’s a  holiday when the sun shines’ isn’t a thing yet. MAKE IT SO, NUMBER ONE!

The impending birthday bash of the century is around the corner in case you were unaware, and my sis-in-law has taken the unfortunate role of delegating a few basic duties to me, which causes grave concern on my part. I have the capacity to fuck shit up without even being on crack…or hammered. So, here is the list of stuff she may or may not want me to do for MOTHER-IN-LAW’S 80TH BIRTHDAY BASH! She may want to revisit a few of these:

1. Getting napkins with the number 80 on them…so, apparently this is a hot commodity these days and I was forced to resist the urge to get the ‘Rockin’ 80’s’ napkins at the Party Place…soooo had them in my hand, but daughter assured me Nanny wouldn’t appreciate ma sense of humor…ugh

2. Cooking. A dangerous task to be assigned… I am, or will be, or may have to be, responsible for cooking a turkey…or 5. Depending on how much I fuck up the other 4 and how many old people will remember to show up for the festivities…should be interesting.
3. Decorating the place where the party will be held which is unknown to me because apparently it’s on a ‘need to know’ basis…not sure how that works with the invited guests…will it be like a scavenger hunt and everybody is given clues to the hidden location and only the ones smart enough to figure it out will actually be in attendance? I’m down with that…half the peeps will end up hanging out at the bar…with me. Nothing like sharing a beer with an old person…

4. Gift for Nanny…since Nanny doesn’t wear jewelry or perfume, that knocks out a lot of gifts. She has knick-knacks beyond knick-knack sensibility and has no need for anything useful like a garlic press…who doesn’t need a garlic press?! Ugh, anyways, this is getting a bit tired so I have to delegate this duty to daughters and son…the garlic press is on its way with the electric knife. BECAUSE EVERYBODY NEEDS AN ELECTRIC KNIFE OTHERWISE HOW WOULD ONE CUT UP THE HOMEMADE BREAD TO MAKE THE BLESSED GARLIC BREAD? See? It all makes sense…

I wish Sis-in-law the best of luck pulling this thing off without me dropping anything, breaking anything or losing any of the gifts en route to the mystery party location…which I will invariably get lost on the way to….
Oh, yeah…there’s wine in this for me, right? RIGHT??!!

80 is the new 70...or something like that.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY...

80 is the new 70…or something like that. HAPPY BIRTHDAY…

 

 

In Search of The Sun

The cold winds of a winter that have held on to us with their icy grasp have continued to blow and I can’t help but wonder if it will ever end. I’m thinking my down coat will forever become fastened permanently into my wardrobe like the houseguest that refuses to leave. The idea of a warm spring has vanished along with the dreams of gardening a bit early and a green lawn by June. If the weather doesn’t soon cooperate with my yearning for warmth, I could be forced to celebrate another Christmas season a few whole seasons too early. At least with Christmas, there’s some iota of merriment and good cheer. Right now, it’s only dismal loathing of the continual grey skies and minus temperatures. I think I saw a robin shiver this morning. Ugh.
The only bright light on the horizon is the hope of sunny skies, and eventual day or two of above freezing temps. Other than that, we slug along and continue to hope, rescuing our spurned gloves and hats from the bin marked WINTER SHIT for yet another day of arctic air and snowy forecasts. I’ve given in to the notion that my running shorts will only come in to use for that one spectacular day in July when the Gods of Summer bless us with a few hours of sun and heat, and we forget all the polar vortexes and frozen windshields of the previous months. That one cloudless day when we can actually go outside, peel off our winterized coats and outerwear and revel in the warmth of the sun and the glorious hours of daylight we have been envisioning all the long winter. That one dream-like day when the sun shines out of the skies like a beacon of glory and heat, beaming its rays upon our skin, vanquishing the toxic frost that seems to have formed in our bones.
Until such a day, I sit at my desk in my down parka, my fingers numb with the icy bite of cold, my nose dripping from the frosty air, hoping for a glimpse of that big ball of fire we used to call SUN….

Look!  There it is!  Ahhh...warm....

Look! There it is! Ahhh…warm….

 

 

 

He wears His Height Reluctantly.

So, hockey is finished for another season at our house. Okay, hockey as in minor hockey..there’s still Junior High hockey which is sort of like the Hunger Games, but without all the fun of dying. Each team battles it out on the ice for the supreme ultimate title of Winnah. I’m not sure what they ultimately win except bragging rights to being the Junior High victors, but I guess when you’re 14, that’s a pretty big deal. I spent the entire day Saturday watching son play two games of hockey for his Bantam B Minor hockey team. In the final game of the championship, they were beaten badly by 10-0….ouch. However, they did get silver in the supreme ultimate “Bantam B Provincial Blah Blah” title, so that’s awesome. I enjoyed watching son play, but it was quite stressful at times and I was bowing my head to the Gods of Hockey to bless him with sudden 6’7” height and behemoth mass, (a tall order, pardon the pun, from his 5’almost 2” height and 93 pound stature) in order to survive the onslaught of the other guys who actually DID look like they had been acquired from a NHL team …ugh. He managed and was proud of his play…and that silver thingy hanging around his neck. I was happy to have muddled through an entire day dedicated to a cold arena and too much coffee, and not having to cart anybody off to a hospital or say the fateful words of “how many fingers am I holding up?”
The running season is upon me and I feel its weight every time I step outside. I can feel mine too unfortunately, and I’m battling it out with the road and the cars and the hills and the rocks and the damned little ruts in the side of the road that nearly send me flying on my ass every time I hit one absently or from the wrong side of my foot. I get honks from friends who suddenly realize that it’s me running and not some lost wayward soul out toddling along after her lost dog or little lamb that darted from the farm. Do we have sheep around here? Hmmm…
It’s a struggle and with the weather being all uncooperative and stuff, it just gets me annoyed. On the forecast for tomorrow morning, the morning of my next scheduled run? Snow. Freezing fucking rain. Yay! Strap on the studded running shoes and let’s get out there in the 100 mile an hour winds and the freezing bullets of rain pelting your face until the blood starts streaming from your cheeks and you look like a character gone awry from a Stephen King novel. “Oh, look it’s Kayjai doing her best Carrie impersonation out here…ewww….Is that blood from her eyes???!!! Gawd, take it down a notch will ‘ya? I got kids in ma car”… That sounds about right.
If the weather ever gets warmer than 0, I’ll be the first one to proclaim it Spring. Until then, I’ll have to don ma protective face wear and head outside. This should do it.

The read marks add decoration. Pretty!

The red marks add decoration…pretty!

It’s not half as scary as having bloody cuts from the freezing rain, right? Right? I’ll be sure to wear a jacket that says “Jason’s Machete Emporium” with a pic of a very  sharp object on the back…
Happy Spring, Peeps!

I Blame The Polar Vortex, The Black Hole and The Higgs Boson Particle For My Inability To Walk Without Falling…and Rob Ford

As I took my (hopefully) last and fateful fall in the driveway by way of black ice, ( I shall call it black ice ‘cause it was ice and the pavement is black and I didn’t see it with all that glaring ball of light shining in my eyes last week..something we have not seen most of these 5 mths of hell…otherwise known as winter) I began to laugh, only it hurt so much I had to stop and realized if H was looking out her window right at that exact moment, she would have caught me just gangling up from behind my car and looking to my right at the man and children pretending not to have seen my butt slam, only to almost slip again from all the laughter and hilarity going on…and then watch as my car door slammed the mirror on daughter’s car. A great start to an obviously even greater day!
My shoulder has been ripped in several locations due to my ever evolving ‘exercise journey’ that involved one too many downward dogs and pushups. I can only assume this from the overzealous amount of pain that has decided to envelop me, leaving me sobbing in pain a few nights as no sleeping position was comfortable. The dog kept rescuing socks from the laundry basket in hopes that these gifts would appease my crying. Gifts of socks are always appreciated, but at the witching hour of midnight, I could have done without. I managed to get a spot that was a lesser degree of pain from exquisite (doctors call pain ‘uncomfortable’ or ‘exquisite’…never ‘excruciating’…they’ve obviously never given birth sans pain relievers or epidurals..or torn muscles in their shoulders they never realized they had) and got a few hours rest. It still hurts. I need chocolate and alcohol. Maybe a sling. A new shoulder? A varying degrees of drugs – street or legal….oh, sorry “medication”….ugh.
I’ve been absent from the blogosphere as of late and have no reason whatsoever for my lack of presence than…ummm….wait a minute, I’m thinking… Laziness…hmm…yep, that about sums it up.

Lazeh..lazy…lazarona….lazarooni…lazalazalaxidaisical laziness.

Me. I’ll get a t-shirt with that emblazoned on the front.
Me: LAZALAZALAXIDAISICAL LAZINESS QUEEN.
BOW TO YOUR QUEEN.
WAIT. DON’T GET UP. STAY THERE. IT’S MORE COMFY AND STUFF. I KNOW YOU WANNA BOW, SO THAT COUNTS. MAKE ROOM, I’M COMIN’ OVER. IT’S EXHAUSTING BEING A QUEEN.
MY SHOULDER HURTS..… I NEED ICE.

NO, NOT FOR MY SHOULDER FOR MA DRINK! GEESH.

exhausted meme