Tag Archives: Life

Namaste and Other Yoga Words I Can’t Say

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I attended my first yoga class evah, last night with Bestie, D and KS. We thought it would be a good way to start the New Year off right and it may be fun!  Apparently, ‘fun’ is relative.  The location was a small structure that I kindly referred to like this:  “OH MY GOD WE’RE DOING YOGA IN A SHED!”  Had it been equipped with a dart board and a wood stove, we would have rushed to the nearest liquor store for the wine and snacks, Yoga class be damned.  As it turned out, it was a small daycare complete with cubbie holes and manipulative block area.  The room NEXT to the daycare room was where I would experience the Downward Dog and the Tree pose ( I was more of a stick, than a tree.  Yeah.)

The dog is laughing at my downward dog.

The dog is laughing at my downward dog.

We managed to secure prime location spots at the back and to the right side of the room so as not to disrupt the rest of the class with giggling that may have escaped us during any portion of completing the poses.  We managed to be somewhat mature adults (yay us!) for the majority of the time.  There were some serious students of the Yoga practice who attended and we did not want to appear rude or inconsiderate.

Apparently, Yoga is a meditative and QUIET activity where they try to instill an aura of inner peace and tranquil contemplation.  Oh, yeah sign me the fuck up.  Sure…I can be quiet, in fact I AM quiet ¾ of the time…except, at the end of the class when we were supposed to lie down and be COMPLETELY STILL.   Yeah.   I reached for my water to have a sip before I fell into a near catatonic state of relaxation.  As I reached for my water bottle, it erroneously decided to explode in ma face sending water spraying into my eye like a whale expelling air from its blowhole.  Meanwhile, the instructor was going around the room dimming the lights and getting everybody blankets and pillows.  It was like nap time in kindergarten going on.  I was confused…and soaking wet from the spray of water in ma face.  I felt the urge to proclaim “WTF?!”, instead simply looked over at KS who was laughing, which got me laughing, but we were QUIETLY laughing, so no rules broken there.  We rock.  And then came quiet contemplation time and we had to be PERFECTLY STILL.  (which never really happened as I was hearing everybody else breathe and then some random bell started ringing and I thought I was hearing things or was that a poor excuse for a fire alarm?, and then some guy began to ‘sing’ and I use that term loosely ‘cause it was more like he was yodeling really…not actually singing.  My eyes darted open as I was half expecting the room to rise up and start getting their shoes on to escape the fire that was surely blazing out of control in the closet where all the cork bricks were stacked and the yodeler was truly hiding, but as I stealthily looked around the room so as not to get caught cheating, I noticed everybody else was laying still so I assumed this bell-ringing and yodeling was SUPPOSED to happen.  Ohhhhh.) No flames, no fire and no hunky firemen…damn, this Yoga thing kinda sucks.

Ugh…I bit the inside of my cheeks so I didn’t have to be the totally immature one and break out in an inappropriate amount of laughter.  It’s like that laughing disease people have…spontaneous uncontrollable laughter at the most inappropriate times.  KS thinks she is a victim of this disease.  I think I am a victim of KS’s thinking of her victimization and the impending laughter that will surely ensue if we ever stop biting various appendages…she her hands, me my inner cheeks.  AND, by ‘cheeks’ I mean the ones on my face.  I would be a Yoga MASTER if I could bite my own ass cheeks. I think I just invented a new pose….I’ll call it “Crunching Idiot”.

This ain't gonna happen any time soon.

This ain’t gonna happen any time soon.

That would be a feat of brilliance I’ll save for maybe my second or third class…AND the hunky firemen.  What?  I gotta have something to think about during Catatonic Rest Time.  Geesh.  (there is a more accurate yoga term for that, but I can’t remember what it is…and too lazy to look it up.)

Until next time, as Joanne and Hal say, keep fit and have fun.

I bet Joanne can chew her cheeks...betcha.

I bet Joanne can chew her cheeks…betcha.

The Plight of Math Homework…and Blizzards…and the Icicle Apocalypse

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So, it seems the ‘Blackout of 2014’ has abated..for now.  After a few days with no power, then rolling blackouts, it seems we’re almost back to normal.  The blizzard conditions, the mountains of snow, then rain and now back to a frozen ice rink has left us all dazed and a bit disoriented, but with lights on in most places (AND THE MALL IS OPEN AND TIM’S IS SERVING COFFEE AGAIN.  I AM SAVED!!), we are almost at that crucial I-am-so-over-this-blackout-shit and moving on.  T-shirts with “I Survived the Blackout of 2014” are at the press right now.

 School has been closed all week leaving us home with the youngins unschooled and wrangly and me not able to return to work until the building has been deemed acceptable to the sufficiently ‘warmed up’ stage.   That leads me to believe that my office is currently suffering from an icicle apocalypse, frosted with ice as clear as glass and dangerously hanging low, ready to stab the innocent by-stander in the face.   It stands to reason that my office is probably a danger zone for humans, so when the ice has melted to some degree, we can all return.  Good.  Otherwise, I could have used a random trash can as a hub for a latent bonfire…could have been epic.  Anybody have any marshmallows?  Wow. Now I want to go back.  Just for the roasted marshmallows and the bonfire.  We could sing songs…great start to a new year. Of course, the stabby icicles would start melting and falling downward at an alarming rate, sending everyone for cover and wondering if stabby-icicles are supposed to be here?  Yeah.

My front screen door...minus the screen and add the frost.

My front screen door…minus the screen and add the frost.

The days have all melded together in what seems like a time-void.  When the power goes out and one is sitting by candle light and attempting to read by the little book light that gives about as much light as a firefly, it really made me think about all those women in the ‘olden days’ who did this every bloody night for eternal years and years.  Gawd.  It’s all about what you’re used to folks, and unfortunately only the bold go forth and prosper…the rest of us plod on and read by crappy book lamps.  Those ladies had serious fortitude and if not for their strength and endearing spirit to read by candlelight, stock the firewood, cook on the open hearth,  we would not be sitting in front of our fires and wishing the internet would spring it’s lovely glow to light our internal world with news from the outside.

The Mags and I cuddling by the candles...no reading to be done

The Mags and I cuddling by the candles…no reading to be done

The days when kids sat in one room school houses with a pot-belly stove and slate boards for doing math are long gone, but I was thinking if the blizzard we had on Friday had happened a century ago, kids would still have walked to school, still have sat by the warmth of the pot-belly stove, still would have a teacher there to teach them their ‘lessons’  and still would have math homework.  Progress??  Hmmmm….

So, as we sit and wait for further updates as to whether everybody will be plodding on to school and work tomorrow, savour your good fortune in being warm and having a light to read by.  And do your math homework, will ‘ya?  Geesh….

Son shoveling the front stoop instead of doing his math homework. Fair trade...I guess.

Son shoveling the front stoop instead of doing his math homework. Fair trade…I guess.

Snowy Days

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charlie brown shovelling

Our first snow-fall of the season and I’m exhausted.  With Hubby out of commission, (knee surgery..again. )  I decided to command the snow blower in order to move ma lovely car…so I could get to work on time.  Students were awaiting ma arrival to begin their exams!  I needed to sweep in there and make sure all were taken care of in a super-human and wonder-womanish like manner…kinda.  So at 6 am I head out to the man-shed and

…stood there looking like an ass.

I had no idea how to open the blessed doors…then I couldn’t find the light switch.  Hubby came hobbling out on one leg to show me how to turn on the light (the switch on the right hand side should have been my first clue. Duh) and how to start the snow blower…apparently, you have to plug the bloody thing in.  Who knew?  Last time I ran it I had to push a button.  He changed it up on me.  The thing is old, so it’s necessary to do a series of steps after it’s plugged in and before you start it.  I had to do a bunch of hand signals, push this, pull that and it magically started…I looked like that pretend sign language interpreter dude at Mandella’s funeral.

Only he’s a bit taller and he wasn’t wearing a parka.

The snow blower started and away I went…I almost took out the gate and part of the fence but the thing was moving!  I was so proud…until I hit the first drift and almost stalled the thing out.  Hubby comes hobbling out again…”You’re making my snow blower sound funny”..  “No I’m not!  That’s how it sounds!  It’s not like it’s supposed to speak whale or something, is it?!”

He takes it from me and proceeds to push it through the first drift…on one leg.  We start yelling at each other.  Me telling him to go back into the house and he trying to direct my snow blowing techniques.  Pretty soon, it was a full on “YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS! GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME TO DO THIS BEFORE YOU HURT YOURSELF”  and he “I WILL AS SOON AS YOU DO THIS RIGHT!”  I’m surprised the neighbours weren’t calling the cops and having them cite us for disturbing the peace. All I needed was one good push and hubby would have been like a turtle on its back in the snow…No, I wouldn’t do that…

Where everyone could see me.

 He relents and hobbles back into the house while I continue to get rid of the snow.  It wasn’t perfect, but I was able to blow out a major portion of it in front of my car and D1’s car. Of course, there were a few tense moments when the blower got away from me and D1’s front end almost had some festive green paint and a lovely little dent added to it. Perfect holiday effect.

  Yay me!

Of course, then I had to put the thing back into the shed…which he watched me do from the kitchen window.  I wanted to ram it into the fence but changed ma mind on account that it would just give him something to yell at me about AND I would have to re-stain the whole fence after he fixed it in the spring…so really, it was about saving work for me.  I wheeled the blower in perfect rotation into the shed.  Then I couldn’t turn it off, dammit.  I forgot the magic sequence of hand signals and turny knobby thingys.

I yelled.

He yelled back.

I turned it off.

All done.

I rock.

Kiss ma ass, snow.

I Was a Directionally Challenged Pirate Named Kevin in Ma Previous Life. True Story.

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Bestie’s on tap to redo ma ‘do tomorrow night which is a good thing.  I haven’t seen so much grey since dude at the Halloween party dressed as Fifty Shades of Grey.  Lame costume, BTW dude.  I can paste a bunch of paint swatches to myself and proclaim it a costume too… in fact I do that almost on a daily basis.  It makes for a fun and interesting conversation piece.  You should try it. They love me at work.  “What’s that colour  you’re wearing today, KJ?  Ecru?  What’s that?”  and then I have to explain the colour palette and the colour wheel and what colours go with others…it’s all very artistic and shit.  Totally worth the hour it spends duct-taping those swatches to ma pants.  What?  OH, you thought I would tape those to ma shirt?  Most people look at the asses of others.  True stat.  Look it up.  So, I tape the swatches to ma ass.  There’s more space… It’s like the size of Quebec down there, so pahlenty of swatch taping room….

Not only is he wearing the costume...he's showing attitude. Work it!

Not only is he wearing the costume…he’s showing attitude. Work it!

Christmas is coming!  Only 28 more days, in case you were all wondering and didn’t have a calendar handy and can’t count.  I’ve done all the work for you.  Consider it your Christmas present.  Merry Christmas!  You. Are. Welcome.

I know there are those who walk among us who loathe Christmas and all it stands for, but I am not one of those people.  I fucking love it.  I love the music, I love the lights, I love the decorations and I love the excitement and shit.  I’m not down with the whole ‘Christmas Magic’ b.s.  That’s not me, but Christmas day is the BEST day.  I guess because the kids are older and we all just hang out in our jammies and put the fire on, play Christmas music, down all the chocolate one can eat in an hour and then eat turkey and pie and drink wine. Well, I drink the wine while I cook the turkey.  It’s amazing we have a dinner on the table at all. 

It’s awesome.

 Now that D1 is over the legal age for consuming alcohol, I don’t feel so awkward handing her a glass of white wine to toast at dinner.  Not that I’ve let that stop me. A couple of years ago, her bestie’s mom had a hissy fit with the news that I ‘allowed’ my daughter to have a glass of wine at Christmas dinner.  No shit.  She went Bat shit crazy.  She must have had some issues around alcohol to have a fit about ma kid having a bit of wine at a family dinner that she was not a part of and had no business commenting on.  Maybe she was drunk when she said that. Or had some bad crack. Some people can’t handle their liquor. Or their drugs.  Maybe she took the drugs BECAUSE  she was drunk…apparently that’s all the rage now.  AND, making ranty videos WHILE you’re drunk.  I think I should so do that.  It could make me a more famous drunkard that what I already am.   Either way, we kinda don’t talk…it’s a good thing.

I’ve been having conversations with myself all day, and it’s pretty freakin’ scary.  Most of the discussions have been religious based (not sure what that’s about) and I tuned in to watch Long Island Medium last night just to see the whole scam at work, when she was going to do a ‘past life regression’ session with her ‘spirit guide’.  I think I want to do that.  I wanna see what awesome past life I can reconnect with to freak people out at parties.  Maybe I was a saloon girl in the Wild West and helped Billy the Kid shoot up a couple of towns. Or maybe I was a business tycoon on Wall Street and was murdered because of my totally bad ass money making skills that resulted in the downfall of the Russian mob. Or maybe I was a spy that got turfed into the ocean when divulging secrets to the Americans and got caught by the mean Italian mafia who decided instead of shooting me, they would see if ma swimming skills were up to par.  Probs not.  Or, maybe I was a pirate.  Yeah!  That would be way more exciting and more accurate given my penchant for eye patches and alcohol.  Hmmm….

Yeah…maybe I was a directionally challenged pirate named Kevin and got lost out at sea and floated aimlessly for months, dying from starvation, scurvy and yukky sea gulls pelting at me, while I was searching for the lost treasure of Red Beard and his Angry Band of Asshats.  Excellent. 

Totally worth it if there’s a treasure map involved…I’ll let you know if I regress far enough to remember the map.  Of course I’ll get lost trying to follow the damn thing….

BEST PIRATE EVAH! Maybe me and Captain Jack taking on the high seas and Read Beard. AWESOME

BEST PIRATE EVAH!  Me and Captain Jack taking on the high seas and Read Beard. AWESOME

Joyful Santas and Gangsta Mags Are All The Rage, Yo!

Posted in Doggie Diaries, Misguided Musings by

Hello, there.  What’s new?  How have you been?  Read any good books lately?  Seen a good movie or two?  Me? Nah…I’ve been doing shit.  You know, getting shit done.  This and that.  Moving and grooving…I can’t be any more specific or I’ll have to keeeeeelllll you…or something.

Get the feeling I’m rambling?  Yeah, me too.  I’ve actually been painting.  Not walls, but I decided to take up my tole painting brush and start again.  After ten years of doing nothing at all, I thought painting some Christmas themed stuff would be fun!  Yeah.  Although ‘fun’ is not the word I would use, it has been productive and relaxing.

Of course, I decided to do this in October, so searching up for supplies has been a challenge.  Did you know that nobody tole paints anymore?  Or some people refer to it as Folk Art painting.  Whatever the fuck it’s called, NOBODY does it anymore… Who knew?  Ugh…leave it up to me to pick up a hobby that died out with troll babies and Ninja turtles.  But, they made a come-back, right?  So can I.

I dug out my paints in the bowels of the basement.  They are still encased in a large wooden crate that has been half painted.  I gave them all a shake and they were as good as new…almost.   I discovered that they don’t make the paint I used, so now I have to switch. The only problem is that all of the colors are different now.  So, search up handy-dandy conversion chart and now I have to mix and match new colors and buy the ones that I simply can’t create myself.

Santa that I painted...I like him even if he looks depressed. Joy is not his name.

Santa that I painted…I like him even if he looks depressed. Joy is not his name.

 Joyful Santa here was done on canvas.  I really liked the way he turned out despite his cheery demeanor and purplish-alcoholic nose.  Nothing says ‘Merry Christmas’ more than a framed alcoholic Santa!  Yay me! I loved him so much, I made him a part of my mantel.

Now, I’m working on Santa number two also in canvas, but once that’s finished, I have to search out some new wooden material and that ain’t easy…(I can see you when you do that, “I GOT YOUR WOOD RIGHT HERE”    Yeah.) Maybe if I lop off a tree branch and sand it down I could have something to paint…Or, my fence would be good.  But Hubby would have to tear down part of it, dry it and bring it in so I could paint it…bit of a pain.  And the dog would escape and terrorize the ‘hood, so we can’t have Mags running loose.  She’s already got an attitude with her new sweaters…I bought her a hooded pink one.  She sorta looks like Missy Elliott now.  Scary.

Gangsta Mags...she's comin' at you, bro!

Gangsta Mags…she’s comin’ at you, bro!

 Next she’ll be doing gangsta rap and looking for a posse to hang with.  All the other dogs will want to join her and we’ll have Spike, Cooper, Reese, Max, Charlie, Hershey and of course, Special Needs Petey (He’s special)  and the leader Mags with their hooded sweaters and their swagger….the ‘hood has gone to the dogs…literally.

All that from a bit of painting…*sigh*   Anyways, my apologies for ma blogging buds for ma absence as of late.  I have been reading, just not commenting.  I will return when this painting urge/thing/obsession recedes a bit and I can get back to writing and reading and socializing and being my old annoying and sweary self.  I know…miss me, yet?

And if you see any troll babies around, throw one out ma way, will ‘ya?