Om shanti shanti shanti

Day 17: A picture of something that has made a huge impact on your life recently.

I've recently started practicing yoga. At first in Malison's gym with just her and her boyfriend, then even more recently at a hot yoga studio that just opened nearby.

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I have never felt more peaceful in my life. Not just happy or calm, but like all the chatter in my head has...not stopped totally, but at least slowed down to manageable.

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PS. Why are my posts so short lately? I think this has something to do with the kids being home on Christmas vacation.

PPS. I hope you all had the exact Christmas that you dreamed of.

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Favourite Cousin

Day 16: A picture of someone who inspires you.

This is my favourite cousin. She is one of the strongest people I know.

She travels to far-off places alone--and not ones that are familiar to us as Canadians like England and France, but places like Nepal and Isreal.

She is going through a really tough time in her life right now, but still she remains positive and optimistic. Taking on one challenge at a time instead of letting it all push down on her at once.

She runs businesses, she makes time for friends, she stays fit, she's never lazy. She makes me want to be a more energetic and take advantage of everything life has to offer. She's very inspiring.

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Tomorrow? The World!

Day 15: A picture of something you want to do before you die.

I read this as: if you had all the money and time you could possibly imagine, what would you be doing? I want to travel the world. There are so many sites I want to see and things I want to learn. I'm always jealous of other people's travels: I want to hike the Annapurna trail; I want to sit in a cafe at the top of the Alps; I want to check out the Taj Mahal and the Tower of London, and the Eiffel Tower, and some Buddhist temples and all the eight wonders and a bunch of museums and soak up as much history and culture in as many places as I possibly can. I can read every book about the lives and deaths of Russian royalty ever written, but seeing where all this happened would make it that much more real. I can take classes in the history of Greek mythology, but seeing the Parthenon and all the other temples dedicated to the gods would bring so much more understanding. I can watch movies about East and West Germany, but standing where the wall used to be would make it more...just more.

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And that's just the stuff I know about. What more have I not learned? What can Africa teach me? What's in Asia that I've never heard of? What can India show me?

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I have a lot that I want to do; looks like I'm going to need to live for a very long time.

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The Church of Football

Day 14: A picture of someone you could never imagine your life without.

There are many people I could never imagine my life without: my kids, my parents, my bff.... But that's not who I'm going to write about.

A few years ago, Twin A begged me to let him play football. I was very hesitant, but finally gave in. I had no idea that him playing football would be such a positive experience for all of us. At the time, I was very unhappy. It was a time of my life that I felt very alone. I was considering joining some sort of religion just so I had a group of people to call my own. Enter the Church of Football. The football schedule is all encompasing; it takes up most of the week. So we spent a lot of time together. It's where I met Malison (and through Malison I met her boyfriend and Cake Mix), and it's where I met two other families that I consider really good friends. I know that these people will be around for the rest of my life.
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I can never express to any of these people how thankful I am to have them around. I know they are there whenever I need them (even when football season is over). They are an awesome support system and I not only can't, but don't want to, imagine my life without them.

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GLEE

Day 13: A picture of your favorite band or artist.

Yes, this is a picture of the cast of Glee. They are, at the moment, my favourite artist. I don't have a favourite band because my favourite music is whatever I can sing along with. That could be anything from Neil Diamond to Owl City to any Christmas song to Eminem to whatever kind of music my kids force me to listen to. Luckily, Glee does it all.

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Yum

Day 12: A picture of something you love.

I love this place. The food is so yummy. I always get Bento Box B with sashimi (no wasabi). I eat there often. At least once or twice a week. I've introduced many friends to it, and it's just about unanimously a favourite among them.

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My very favourite thing about this restaurant is what it symbolizes. This is the first place I ever went to have a meal by myself. I was always afraid that people would look at me funny for being alone. They don't. Nobody cares. And if they did care, I like to think that they admire me for not being afraid to take time to myself in public. It's silly, I know, but I view this restaurant as the first step of total independence.

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Go me!

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Cliche

Day 11: a picture of something you hate.

I hate cliches.

I hate being thought of as a cliche. I cannot be put in a box and labeled.

Most especially, I hate the answers that come when you ask people what their pet peeves are:

"I hate intolerant people." What does that even mean? Everyone is intolerant of something. Granted, I'm not that fond of anything that deliberately physically or mentally hurts someone because of their race, religion, or sexual orientation, but I have to say that I'm very intolerant of whiners. (Quit faking, ya big baby.) Does that make me an intolerant person that other people should hate?

"I hate how Christmas has been so commercialized." Really? You hate when someone thinks so highly of you that they lose sleep trying to think of the perfect present for you? You hate how everyone joins together as one big community and sings and smiles and tells perfect strangers to have a merry Christmas? You hate how excited your children are when they tell you what the shopping store Santa said to them?

"I hate [insert driving behaviour here]." I read somewhere that anyone who drives slower than you is an idiot and anyone who drives faster than you is a moron. The funny thing is, we've all been the driver that has made a mistake. When I cut you off, it's because I didn't see you, not because I'm deliberately trying to ruin your entire day.

But the biggest thing I hate today? The fact that I'm responsible for putting the lights on the Christmas tree. I hate putting the lights on; I always scratch up my hands and I always end up with either extra tree or extra lights at the end.

--

...and stuff

day 10: a picture of the person you do the most messed up things with.



Have you ever seen a snowman sitting in a chair, watching the basketball game at a busy lounge on a Friday night? We put him there.

Have you jumped in a cab after a night out to find that a wise man from a ceramic nativity scene is in the inside pocket of your jacket? We put him there.

Have you ever spotted a plastic soldier, cowboy, Indian, or exotic animal in a flower pot in a hotel lobby? Chances are we put him there.

We've spent entire nights ending every sentence with "and stuff." We've bought an entire cake just to eat the icing. We've conducted many social experiments to see what people will do when they find a snowman or wise man or plastic toy in an odd place. I mail her birthday cards in the wrong month; we buy each other magnets from wherever we go because someone once didn't buy her a magnet because it cost too much; we think we're hilarious.

I promise day 11 will not be about my bff. Stay tuned...and stuff.

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The first of many love letters to my bff

Day 9 - A picture of the person who has gotten you through the most.



Just after high school, I had a boyfriend. We had a very...passionate relationship. We either loved each other intensely or hated each other intensely. We broke up a lot. My bff was always there, not as the kind of friend who says "there, there. It'll be ok" but more of the kind of friend who says silly things that make me laugh.



Then I got married and had kids. And throughout my kids' lives she has been there with all sorts of teacherly advice. "Make sure your kids play team sports. We can tell which kids are in team sports" and "don't ever buy cups, Christmas ornaments, anything with an apple on it for teacher gifts. We only like gift certificates. For Chapters and Starbucks. That's it. Don't think outside the box."



And I got divorced. And I had a new boyfriend. And we broke up. And I've had medical problems. And throughout it all she's been there. Again, not with any sort of sympathetic coddling, but it doesn't matter what's happening in my life, if I'm not laughing my ass off by the time our conversation ends then she hasn't done her job.



Thanks bff. If you were here, I'd hug you. Just kidding; that'd be really awkward.

--

Not seasonal

Day 8 - A picture that makes you laugh.

'nuff said.

Yes, I know how lame this is

Day 7 - A picture of your most treasured item.

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In which I don't follow the rules of the game...again

Day 06 - A picture of a person you'd love to trade places with for a day.

The truth is: nobody's life is perfect. So while there are aspects of just about anybody's life that I find appealing, there are other aspects that I don't.

Some of you have a perfect marriage. And I want that. But I don't want to trade places with you because your husband is not who I want.

Some of you have an unlimited source of money and presents and vacations. And I want that. But I don't want to trade places with you because I don't want to have to deal with what you have to deal with to enjoy it.

Some of you have the perfect job. And I want that. But I want the job that's perfect for me, not the one that you have.

So basically, I want what you have. I want the fame and fortune and success and happiness, but I want my own, not yours.

Who would I trade places with for a day? Nobody. I'll get there on my own.

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Memories...misty, water-coloured memories of the way we were

Day 05: A picture of an old memory.

I remember this day...kinda. I was three. My grandma crocheted that dress and the locket was from my godmother (my dad's oldest sister). We were getting family pictures done and the picture before this one was of the whole family--mom, dad, big brother, and me. I was sitting on my mom's lap and I must have been wiggling because I do recall that I told her numerous times to stop squishing me. Hence the pout in this picture.

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I wish it was more interesting

Day 4 - A picture of my night.

I worked on these. Twin A insisted I make him a pair of mittens. So I did. They are orange and have a very manly bug walking across one of them (so as to make them more masculine). A friend of his saw them and is getting his mom to buy him a pair. I don't like to duplicate what I've already done before, so his friend is getting fish. And maybe on the other side, if I can figure out how to do it, an octopus. Today I take over Junior High. Tomorrow, the world. Mwah-ha-ha-ha.

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Too many to name

Day 3 - A picture of the cast from your favorite show. (And by picture of the cast from my favourite show, obviously it means an explanation of everything TV-related in the history of my life with no actual photo.)

One of my pet peeves is people who condescendingly (and it *always* sounds condescending) say, "I don't have a TV." Like they are somehow better than you because you choose to spend your evenings watching your "programs" while they undoubtedly volunteer for some under-funded charity that simultaneously saves children and animals, while also training for an ironman triatholon and spending quality time teaching their children to understand finances and the small print on contracts. Judgemental bastards. (But not you dear reader; I totally don't mean you.)

I, however, spend my evenings watching TV. I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Every evening, after the children are in bed, I sit on my couch, knit, and watch TV. My kids watch TV too. And play video games. And often eat junk food. Yep, I'm that mom.

My favourite shows (in list form) are (in no order whatsoever):

1. Glee
2. Parenthood
3. Grey's Anatomy
4. The Office
5. The Biggest Loser

Those are the ones I try never to miss. There are more that I really, really like. And listing them would make this post even longer, but, ironically, I'm in the middle of a really good book and I need to go finish it now.

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Daddy's Girl

Instructions for Day 2: Photo of myself and the person I have been closest with the longest.

There are many people I've been close with for a very long time, but this guy has been there for the longest.

In the toy store, he presses every single button on every single toy and then giggles like a little kid.

He bakes all the muffins and shortbread cookies. He makes more cookies for Christmas than they would ever need at their Open House. This is to account for the ones that will inexplicably disappear out of the freezer beforehand.

He rarely read me stories. Instead he made up cool adventures about a kid named Bartholomew Snuffenhouser.

When we go for a run, he always tucks in his shirt and pulls up his socks. Then waits for me to say, “You are not leaving the house looking like that.” Then he giggles like a little kid.

He always made sure to tuck me in whenever he came home from work—whether it was 10 at night or 4 in the morning.

He only answers the phone if Mom’s not home, no matter where she is in the house or what she’s doing.

When I’m sad or frustrated, he’s the only person in the world that can make me cry just by looking at me.

When I told him I was pregnant, he looked confused, and said “but I’m not old enough to be a grandpa.” He seems fine with it now.

I got a brand new manual typewriter for my 10th birthday. Him and I had daily correspondence for the longest time on a roll of toilet paper. (It was endless and cheaper than paper—he is, after all, Scottish.)

All my friends are jealous of the relationship I have with him. He’s my running partner; he’s there whenever we need him; he’s someone who believes in me no matter what I’m trying to accomplish.

Believe me: I know how lucky I am.

--

15 things

My cousins are doing some sort of 30-day challenge on facebook. I have no idea what it is or where they found it, but I thought I would shamelessly steal it for my own use.

Day 1 appears to be 15 random facts (and we all know how much I love lists...and random facts) and a picture of myself.

1. This picture was taken at my brother's wedding. I was dancing with him. Despite my hurt feelings of late, he's my brother and I love him. He's a wonderful person and I know that he is there when I need him and that one day we will be close again.

2. I purposely picked a picture that was dark and hard to see.

3. I like how my arm looks in this picture. It looks tanned and toned.

4. I had a job interview in June. I drove back from a function in Calgary, hadn't been home yet, and was not feeling my finest when I met with the interviewer. It didn't go well. Actually, it was really awkward. Today, six months later, I emailed the interviewer and asked for another chance. I hope it works out; I'd be perfect for this job.

5. When I go to a bookstore, I cannot leave there with only one book.

6. Same with any store that sells yarn (except with balls of yarn, not books. Obviously).

7. My very favourite blogs are The Bloggess and Dooce. And I also really like Notes From the Trenches. These ladies are hilarious and they often make my day.

8. I love getting mail. I have two friends that are very good about sending me mail through Canada Post. Thanks girls.

9. I'm really proud of my kids. They are only beginners at being teenagers, and I may look back on this sentence some day and sadly shake my head, but for now they are really awesome.

10. I went out with my former coworkers for lunch. I miss those people. They can be counted on 100 per cent of the time to get my sense of humour.

11. I love Disney animated movies. I didn't like Lilo and Stitch at all though. Not even a little.

12. My favourite number is 12.

13. I have a problem with starting projects but not finishing them. I have a lot of mostly done sweaters, mittens, purses, scrapbooks, cross-stitches, writing projects, and various miscellanious projects having to do with my damned living room. I need to dedicate time to unfinished projects; perhaps I'll start a club.

14. As much as I love to read, I've only been involved with one book club. It was a club dedicated to reading books from our childhoods. We read Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret. It was a fun club, but it ended because most of the other participants are teachers and summer ended so they all went back to school and had better things to do.

15. I don't think seeing my name in print will ever get old. Every time I see a new magazine with my byline I squeal a little.

--

Christmas letter

I'm considering writing a Christmas letter. Part of me thinks that these letters are kind of lame: that people don't really want to know that I went on a bunch of holidays, that my kids go to school and participate in sports, and that I may or may not have run over a squirrel last September. On the other hand, it's easier than writing out a whole bunch of hand written cards and there are some people that I don't talk to all the time that might be interested to know what we've been up to in the last year. On the other hand (maybe my multiple amounts of appendages is something I should put in the letter), Christmas letters are written for a large audience and what if what my 14-year-old cousin doesn't have the same sense of humour as my 90-year-old ex-grandma (that's my ex's grandma in case you're wondering)? Do I use my boring and polite this-is-what-we've-done voice or my...well...real voice?



Or, do I do like last year where I deliberate about this forever until it's too late to do either?



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Dear Santa

My Christmas list:

1. There are so many seasons of so many shows that I want to own. I gave a list to my mom but I doubt I'll get any that I asked for. Here's why: my mom is afraid of her computer. She's certain that the minute she even walks within a foot of it while holding her credit card, her information will get out into the world wide webs and suddenly evil people will start using it for nefarious purposes like buying shoes. So basically, if what I want for Christmas is not at Costco or Mark's Work Wearhouse, I'm not getting it.

2. I may or may not have mentioned my living room (over and over again). I finally got the desk upstairs, but I have yet to make the curtains or the throw pillows. And also, despite the fact that it's on my list of things to buy when I graduate, I have yet to get new living room furniture. There's always something that comes up that's more important: trip to Mexico, trip to San Fransisco, phone bill.

3. I could use some extra energy. I'm not sure if it's the subject of the article I'm working on right now that is making me lazy (because it's amazingly boring) or the fact that I am naturally lazy, but lately I only want to snuggle in my bed and read. And if not on my bed then I'll take the couch and TV.

Thank you for your consideration Santa.
[Lily Starlight]

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Exercise

I am bad with exercise. I will go hard for an entire week--workout three hours a day, eat only food that is good for me, drink only water. Then BAM! Something happense and I stop. And the something happening is usually life getting in the way. A couple of weeks ago I went to hot yoga four times in five days. It was awesome and I felt so good. But then the friend I was going with one day couldn't go, and I couldn't go the next day, then my evenings became busy with meetings and friends popping by and...

The IT band in my right leg is tight. So tight that I haven't been able to run for the last six months or so. I can run for about 10 minutes before either my knee, hip, or both start hurting. It's very frustrating. So I've started seeing a physiotherapist. And that was helping and it looked like I was going to be able to start running again soon, but I've stopped doing the exercises, I really can't afford to go to physiotherapy too often, and now it's possible I'll never run again. OK, that might be a little too dramatic, but my motivation is low.

Hmmm...I'm pretty rambly today. If ya'all have any motivation ideas, I'd be happy to listen to 'em...

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Night

When I was young, I could not fall asleep for hours after I went to bed. Literally hours. I remember my mom taking me to the doctor regarding this problem when I was about seven. I remember him saying I should not eat ice cream or bananas for a few hours before bedtime. Memory is a funny thing. Is it really possible he said that?

Anyway, I had ways to entertain myself so I wouldn't get bored. First I'd knock on the wall between my room and my brother's and ask him what he wanted to talk about. He wasn't very reliable though; he'd either say "Nothing. Go to sleep" or he'd start chatting with me then fall asleep in the middle of a sentence...usually my sentence. Rude!

So when that failed, I'd sing. Every song I could think of. Usually from the soundtrack of Annie. I really loved that movie. After exhausting the entire repertoire of Annie songs, I'd start in with anything I could think of by Helen Reddy or Barbra Streisand (what? My mom was a fan. Geez).

After wearing myself out singing, I'd start making up stories. Then when that didn't work, I'd try the doctor's suggestion of putting every part of my body to sleep. (Goodnight big toe, goodnight ball of my right foot, goodnight Achilles tendon, etc.) Eventually that would get boring and I'd go back to singing.

I read now. And fall asleep a lot more easily. Too bad; I miss singing.

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Thankful

I missed posting on Thanksgiving, so I thought I would pretend that I celebrate American Thanksgiving with a list (because this is obviously a blog of lists) of things that I'm thankful for. Things besides my family and friends because those are too obvious and I'd just be writing a bunch of cliches and that's boring.

1. The sunshine on my bed--at some point during the day, depending on the season, the sun sleeps directly on my bed. It's warm and bright and happy.

2. My dad's new-found car-attitude--in 1983, my dad bought a brand new Volvo. It was his baby and if you even looked at it wrong, you got in trouble. He owned this car for 20 years. Neither my brother and I ever drove it (until brother bought it off dad, but even then the pressure was too high to keep it in tip-top condition and so it was sold again a couple of months later). Anyway, my dad retired from his career and needed to purchase a work vehicle for his new job (don't even get me started on what has happened to this vehicle--gah). All that history to say that recently he got a brand new truck. It's red; it's huge; that's all I know about it. The other day when my mom and dad came to pick up their dog from my house I was out. I came home when they were here and my dad's brand new truck was in my driveway, but running, so I moved it. And when I got out of the huge red truck, I misjudged how huge the truck really is and fell out while simultaneously pushing the door into the side of my stucco house. It removed the paint from part of the edge of the door. It crossed my mind that I should probably flee the country, but instead I went inside to see if I would still be considered "daughter." You guys, he totally waved it off like it was nothing.

3. Yoga pants--I'm not gonna lie. I rarely wear anything else anymore. I feel like maybe I'm becoming a candidate for What Not To Wear (this in addition to Hoarders; is it possible I watch too much TLC). They're just so comfy and warm and comfy.

4. My country--it's politically stable and there are no poisonous bugs.

5. My house--besides keeping me warm and dry, I have the kind of house that my friends can walk into and totally ignore me while going about doing their own things. As I write this I have a friend sitting at my kitchen table filling out a job application. People feel welcome here, my friends, my kid's friends. It's nice that people can come here, because honestly, I sure don't want to go out there.


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Housekeeper

I have officially become one of *those* people. Allow me to explain:

There once was a time when I dutifully cleaned and did laundry on a schedule. The bathrooms were cleaned every Tuesday, the laundry was washed, dried, folded and put away every Saturday, the kitchen was cleaned every single day. This morning, as I rushed out of my bed to take the children to school, I noticed that I had two baskets of laundry sitting on my floor. UNFOLDED and NOT PUT AWAY. How did this happen? Stay tuned on the TLC channel; I could be on Hoarders any day now.


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Whiner

I feel whiny today. So far (and keep in mind it's still pretty early in the morning) everything is bugging me.

1. My parent's dog. She is a bad houseguest. I ask her to please sleep at the bottom of the bed on the other side (it's a king-sized bed; there's plenty of room), but she insists on sleeping right by me. Also, she is far to small to be outside in this weather. That means that she is supposed to go to the bathroom on these pads. She insists on missing, sometimes by about 15 feet. And then she barks and barks and barks every time I come back into the house and it's so high-pitched that I think my ears are going to fall off. Don't get me wrong, she's cute and she's a nice dog, but I just would like if she were a better guest in my house. I also think I might be allergic to her, and having her sleep so closely to me is not helping.

2. My driveway. It's not going to shovel itself, but it seems that other members of my household have noticed that if they wait long enough that it will. Ten minutes here and ten minutes there would have it done in no time, but they dawdle so much that all of a sudden it's time to go to school or dinnertime or bedtime. I often think they work way harder at dawdling, putting huge amounts of time and effort in, that it would take less work just to go shovel.

3. Censorship. I censor myself when writing so as not to hurt anyone's feelings or give too much of myself away. Everywhere I write I'm so careful: I'd write a book but what if a character swears or has sex and my dad reads it. I'd blog about more stuff but what if [insert one of the very few reader's names here] thinks I'm talking about her. (Not you though. Promise.) And private information? Feggedaboudit. What I share is so watered down that sometimes I don't even bother...hence the months of silence on this blog. And honestly, how interesting is it to read about nothing, because that's really all I have left once I'm done with the censorship.

Wow. I'm in a mood. I should stop before I get myself in trouble. Have a lovely day friends.

--

Title goes here

Well hi there. Nice place you got here. What? Oh right, this is my place.

I haven't been here for a long time. Maybe you've noticed. At least two of you have because you've both asked why I don't blog anymore. I'm back. I'll try to do better, but honestly, I can't guarantee anything. The thing is , I don't blog when I have so much going on in my life that my brain is just spinning because I don't want to bog you down in my stuff and I don't blog when I have nothing going on in my life because I have nothing to say.

Today I'm trying for five random things because sometimes that's just fun.

1. I shovelled the driveway two days in a row. I have a long-ass driveway and it takes a long time and I don't even finish it because I want to leave some for the other members of my household. I don't want them to get used to me doing it. It kind of bothers me that my neighbours drive on my driveway because they pack down the snow, but it doesn't bother me enough to say anything. I like my neighbours; if they find it easier to drive on my driveway then I'll just live with it. Later on this year it won't matter anyway because I'll have given up the goal to always be able to see the cement. Shovelling is a novelty that wears off pretty quick. I came inside when I was done and my hair was everywhere and my glasses were fogged up and the zipper pull broke off my jacket. I'm not sure the last time I felt that panicked. I COULD NOT get out of my jacket. I was trapped there forever with hair in my face and I couldn't even see. It was horrible. I felt my breath quicken as I tried and tried to figure out a way to pull down the zipper WITHOUT THE PULL twisting this way and that like an acrobat contortionist. Finally I pulled the jacket off like a t-shirt. It was scary people; you don't know fear until you're trapped in a winter jacket with foggy glasses and messy hair.

2. I went to visit my bff last weekend. Honey was away so it was just the two of us. I missed him; I like them together, but it was really nice to have girl-time. I'd love to say we spent the day shopping then visited the spa in preparation for our night out, but in all honesty, we went to one store, then picked up food, went back to her place, put on our sweatpants and we were in bed by 1030. Sadly, it was perfect. I don't want to read too much into it, but it's possible that I'm getting... old.

3. My plans fell through today. I thought about all the stuff that needs to be done: the cleaning, the writing assignments, random chores and errands (on a side note, I've never been able to say that word--I know it's ERrands, but it always comes out of my mouth as erRANDS). But then I remembered what the Universe wrote yesterday: What if it was your downtime, your lounging-in-bed-too-long time, your walkabout time, and your blow-Friday-off time that made possible your greatest achievements? So today, I'm going to have a nap, I might go for lunch, I will definitely have a long, hot shower and I will blow-Friday-off.

4. I might just start now.

5. Because five random things right off the get-go might be a little over ambitious.

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The Receptionist

I am the luckiest girl in the world. When I decided to quit my job last February, I had a friend (let's call her Malison), who took me under her wing and between her and her boyfriend, they made sure I'd feel secure and able to support my family. At the same time I quit, the receptionist at Malison's boyfriend's company quit--he offered me the job on my terms. Simply, I was there for 4 hours a day and while I was there I should answer the phones (the phones are on an automated system. That means they ring at the front desk only when someone doesn't know already who they need to talk to. This happens on average 5 times a day), sort the mail (small office; not really that much mail), and with the rest of my free time: work on my writing. None of the other staff members were allowed to ask me to do any of their work.

It was heaven.

As of last Friday, that break from my real life has ended. There was drama. It was like a reality show: backstabbing, conniving, people being sent home, a new Head of Household. And I couldn't stay. I'm not sure there was anyone there who actually wanted me to (especially since I never impressed them with any of my skills), but I didn't give them the opportunity to vote me off; I just left.

And now I'm back where I started from. Only this time there is not cushy job to fall back on. This time I actually have to try. I can't just wait for opportunities to fall in my lap; I actually have to go out and find them. And it's scary.

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Smoky

It's smoky here today. There are forest fires in BC that are covering Alberta in smoke. It's hard to breath and it smells like a campfire. I hate campfires. I hate smelling like smoke. I could totally make this into a metaphor for part of what's going on in my life right now, but I don't feel like it.

Otherwise: I'm a certified Nutrition and Wellness Specialist as of yesterday. I may have an opportunity to focus more on my writing career soon. It's not all bad. Change is scary though. And exciting.

--

Random

1. I went on my very first blind date last weekend. He was a very nice man. He made me feel comfortable, the conversation flowed, and though we didn't seem to have a whole lot in common, I didn't want to make any decisions on our relationship based on a first date. He called yesterday. Five days after our date. Although he thinks I'm "a very nice person" he's met someone through a dating site and wants to see where that goes. I was impressed that he called; most men wouldn't have. Quite a stand-up gentleman; I hope everything works out for him. I, however, am going back to hiding in my house and avoiding people. I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with the rejection that comes with dating.

2. I think I might have figured out why I'm so tired all the time. Why running is such a strain. I visited my fantastic new doctor yesterday. He poked and prodded at me for a while, then decided that it's quite possible that I've been running on a broken foot for the last six weeks. Perhaps my exhaustion stems from my body's need to heal while I continue to pound the broken part into the ground over and over and over again.

3. My kids tell people I'm a receptionist. "Because it sounds better." GAH! Like I didn't *just* go to school for four years to get a degree. Like I don't have letters behind my name.

--

Reason #475 why she's my best friend

Wedding in Hawaii for her.

Macadamia nut Kisses for me.
Win-win.

--

Tired

I'm exhausted. All the time. I barely run 2k and I'm lucky if I can walk the rest of the way home. I fall into my bed every afternoon when I get home from work to nap. I have problems getting up in the morning even though I don't have to get up until 9.

Do I need some sort of vitamin supplement? Is it allergies? Am I depressed (besides the tired thing I have no other symptoms of anything)? Don't know. Don't know anything and I'm too lazy to make the appointment to find out.

--

Stars

I'm trying desperately to organize my life and get stuff done. So I've invented a "star chart." I printed off a calendar and every day I aim to get five different coloured stars. So far this month I've been doing pretty well.

Green star - the green star symbolizes my nutrition goals. I find that I don't eat enough fruit and vegetables. Canada's food guide recommends 7 to 8 servings per day. Who wants to waste all their calories on fruit and vegetables? So I'm trying to eat both fruit and vegetables every single day. I only average about 4 servings per day. That's ok; I don't seem to be dying of scurvy or anything yet.

Red star - the red star is my exercise goal. I aim to get at least a half hour every day. This is the one that I don't get the most of. I have a lot of excuses, none of them good, for why I skip it. Between running three times a week with my dad and the new exercise regime I plan to make the other football mommies take part in, I will then only need to find time/energy for the weekend days. You know. The days I like to spend reading in my bed.

Gold star - the gold star is my wellness goal. This month I made a list of 31 things that need to be done around my house. Everything from replacing the burnt out lightbulbs in the bathroom vanity and vacuuming my furnace filter to bringing up that damn desk from the basement. The same desk I meant to bring up in February. There's a reason I have to go to the extreme of rewarding myself to do things.

Blue star - the blue star is the water star. All I have to do is drink 2 litres of water a day. This is the one I get 99.9 per cent of the time. Yes, I do pee a lot. Twice while writing this post actually.

Silver star - extra wellness goal because there are five different colours on a sheet of star stickers. Every day I must work on some sort of craft. This one is great for more than just getting crafts completed though. It also keeps me from snacking at night. It's hard to craft and eat at the same time.

In other news, it's my UNniversary today. I would be celebrating my 16th wedding anniversary today if that had worked out. I texted the ex to wish him a happy unniversary, he replied with two lols and an emoticon...no wonder we're divorced.

--

Love

My bff just got married. Her and her husband took off to Hawaii and, surrounded by the officiator, the photographer, and a guy playing the guitar, were joined in matrimony. The pictures show a beautiful ceremony. And as much as I would have liked to have been there to celebrate such a momentous occasion, I'm happy they had it just the way they wanted. They're such a great couple--I never thought I'd see the day when she would compromise on anything (not that she's selfish and horrible, just that she knows how she wants things to be and doesn't see a need to try it any other way), but with him: she compromises and is happy to do it. They are in love. It's lovely.

-

I always thought she was a little too picky. The man she fell in love with would be This, This, and This and there was no way she would settle for a That, That, and That. Me? I figured I could love anyone. If there was something I didn't like in a mate, I would give him a chance to change...and then another chance, and then another.

-

But now I realize. She's right! I need to have deal-breakers and they need to be a for sure thing. When next I fall in love, I want to be in love for the rest of my life. I don't want to settle for someone just because he loves me.

-

The last boyfriend I broke up with wished me good luck finding someone to love me because guys don't want girls with baggage. Everyone has baggage; the man I spend the rest of my life with will not consider what I have to be baggage. And I don't expect our lives will be perfectly easy, but knowing exactly what I want and don't want will certainly cut down on time wasted.

-

1. I want a professional man. I want someone who has the same or better education. I want to be intellectually on the same level. I don't want to be the teacher in the relationship; I want to learn stuff too.

-

2. He has to have money. I'm not saying he has to be a millionaire, but at this age he has to have his own home, a vehicle, savings for retirement and still be able to spoil me a little. I don't want to hitch my wagon to someone who's not going to be able to retire or travel.

-

3. Physically I would like him to be taller than me. And at least as active if not more active than I am. I'd like to have someone I have to keep up with. It's too easy for me to relax and before you know it, I'm relaxing for weeks at a time.

-

4. But mostly I want someone who I will compromise for and be happy to do it. I don't want to compromise because that's what people do when they're in a relationship. I want to compromise because I truly want the best for him. Because I truly believe that he deserves it. And because I truly believe that he deserves me.

--

High School

This year marks my 20th year out of high school. High school is a distant memory, but lately I have been thinking about it a lot. I was at my parent's house on the weekend and we pulled up, from the depths of the basement, a box of notes (the kind passed between classes) and pictures from high school.

Things I've noticed now that I'm an adult:

1. It wasn't just me that was dramatic in high school. I often think back and shake my head when I consider how everything was either the greatest thing that could ever happen or the absolute end of the world. Reading all the notes has caused me to realize that it wasn't just me. All my friends were like this, and I can't help but notice, that the boys were the most dramatic out of everyone. There's a lot of angst in teenagedom; it couldn't be better timing for me to find these memories as my own kids take on this time in their own lives.

2. Man, I was a heartbreaker. I can't even begin to count the notes written from boys professing their love for me. A lot of them were boyfriends but some weren't. I had boys "waiting" for me. Waiting for me to break up with the current boyfriend so they could have a shot. Um...is it too late to tell them that I'm ready now?

3. Even then I was somewhat of a writer. I, obviously, don't have any of the notes that I gave to people, but most of the notes from others start with something along the lines of: "you're so good at writing back" and end with: "sorry this is so short; your notes are always so nice and long."

4. We really had some big-ass hair in the 80s. My god, some of the pictures can't even fit in all of the hair height.

--

That Scene in 40-Year-Old Virgin

I'm going on a vacation in a couple of days. A vacation where I will spend a large part of it on the beach working on my tan. A vacation where I will be forced to throw on a bathing suit many consecutive days in a row.


I try never to wear bathing suits. And the one I would wear if I absolutely had to is boy-cut. So, it's not that I'm fond of unruly jungles, and I do maintain "that area" well enough, but the need for perfection is not that necessary. Any other time that part of my body is viewed, the person doing the viewing is not really searching for...uh...stray branches.


Regardless, on this vacation I will be wearing a bikini. Prompting the need for more than just a careless swipe with a razor. For the first time in my life, I got a bikini wax. And you know what? OW!



Me: How old are your kids?

Torture Inflictor: They are four and six. *rub, rub, rub, RIP*

Me: OH THOSE ARE NICE AGES. DO THEY GO TO SCHOOL HERE?

TI: My son goes to [local school].

Me: That's a nice school. Well, I don't really know because that's not where my kids went, and I didn't go there either, but I know other people who went there, I mean their kids went there and they seem to like it. Well, they liked it, their kids don't go there anymore...

*RIP*

...BUT THEY USED TO GO THERE AND WHEN THEY WENT THERE, THEY LIKED IT.

TI: *eyes dart around making sure there's an escape route*



Apparently, when I'm in a shitload of pain I can still have a normal conversation. A totally coherent and not at all crazy conversation. As you can see I maintained a steady voice throughout and didn't babble unintelligibly. I'm very proud.

--

Depressing

This blog depresses me. It's so dark and heavy all the time. It feels like I can only write about "issues" here. But the thing is: that's not who I am. In person, I'm light and funny. How come that isn't coming across here? Why am I so focused on this blog having "substance"?

Good writers have a voice. A voice that comes through in their writing. My voice is not coming through at all. This sucks.

And it's time for a change. Starting now.

So, without further ado, here are some random thoughts:

1. The other day I asked [Twin B] what he wanted to be when he grew up. He answered that he didn't know. So I asked the question in a different way: If you had to decide what you were going to be right now, what would you choose? His answer: Well, I guess I'd be a janitor because I don't really have the education to be anything else. My kid is brilliant.

2. So Jesus "died" and then we found out that he wasn't really dead, but we don't celebrate the second time that he died. I hear Jesus was kind of a big deal, so if we get a week off for his birth and four days off for his death/resurrection, then I think his second death deserves at least a long weekend.

3. I think I would be good at writing sit-coms for TV. I write them in my head almost constantly.

4. I hate my rear view mirror. It's the one that shows all the flaws. I often find myself driving down the street pulling out grey hairs rather then watching the road. It's also the one that points out which stray eyebrows need to be plucked. Yesterday it found a wrinkle. It was near my mouth. I've spent a lot of time since then pulling my cheeks back to see what I'd look like if I didn't have a wrinkle. But at least my eyebrows are good.

5. My friend is bringing over her baby this afternoon. He's pretty new. I haven't held a baby in a very long time. But the best part is that I get to stop at Chapters after work. I can't decide if I should get Sandra Boynton, Dr. Seuss, or Eric Carle. What a wonderful decision to have to make.

--

Simple

In my first year of college (2004), I took a creative writing class. We were given an assignment; we were to answer a bunch of questions--questions like "If you were a tree/flower/fruit/colour, what kind would you be?"

**Side note** I was actually asked what colour I would be if I were a colour in a job interview once. Stupid question, I thought. I answered that I would be skin colour. Duh. I got the job anyway.

Obviously, I am far too logical to find this kind of metaphor appealing in my own writing. It's just so...so lame. Anyway, this is what I came up with. And surprisingly, it's still one of my favourite pieces of writing to this day.



Simple

I am not abstract art,
there is no confusion, no need to tilt your head to one side.

I am not large, obscure words;
do not take out your dictionary or thesaurus.

I am not a violin,
all intricate and needing to be played exactly.

I am a daisy
simple
I am a giggle in church
playful
I am baby-soft skin
natural
I am a fawn
trusting

I am not a mango!



--

Painting the ceiling

I've been spending some time renovating my living room. It all started when I decided I need to bring a desk upstairs from the basement so that I had somewhere to put my sewing machine. But rather than just bring up the desk, put my sewing machine on it, and get to work, I decided before I could possibly do that, I should probably remove the fireplace...

So the fireplace was removed and obviously the wall behind it is a different colour than the rest of the wall necessitating the need to paint. And before I can paint the walls, I needed to paint the ceiling. Which is what I did this last weekend.

Saturday before lunch, I ran to the paint store. I bought paint, a pole to attach to the roller handle, and a tray lining to pour the paint into. The girl there asked me four times if I had everything I needed. I assured her that I did.

After lunch I came home, changed into my painting clothes, threw a bandanna on top of my head and started moving furniture. I was getting ready to tape when I realized I didn't have any. I thought it might be possible to get around not taping if I'm really careful, but then when I went to put the roller on the handle, I realized I had no handle...or safety goggles...or the tray to put the lining in.

I changed back into my regular clothes (keeping in mind that the hallway is packed full of couches and every time I have to go to my room I have to crawl over them then perform all kinds of acrobatics to actually get there). I ran to Rona and picked up all the supplies that I had assured the girl at the paint store I already had. Then came home and changed yet again.

I spread out the drop sheets, taped around the lights, donned the brand-new (too big) safety goggles, rolled the roller in the paint, and started painting. It was going along very smoothly for about five minutes. But then...the handle broke. Snapped right near the metal part that attaches to the roller. I ended up painting the rest of the ceiling standing on a chair covered in old pillowcases (that kept falling off every time I moved the chair), holding onto a little stub of the handle. I'm not sure if I can properly portray my frustration. Let's just say that what was coming out of my mouth was not very ladylike.

This week, I'll be prepping the walls and getting ready to paint them over the weekend. Hopefully, that won't be worthy of a blog post. Can everyone please cross their fingers that this goes a tad bit more smoothly? Thanks.

--

Some stuff I've been thinking about

These are some things I've been thinking about lately:

1. My cousin: He is in the midst of trying to remove his childrens' mother from their lives. He has four kids--two girls and two boys. The girls have been protected from her for as long as they've been alive. She can see them, but she's not allowed to take them. The boys however, have the pleasure of being in her company often. Last week, she hit them with a broom handle on their legs, arms, and backs. Why? Because it was 830 at night and they were whining because they wanted to have dinner.

Anyway, my cousin is a good guy. He's quite a bit younger than me. He grew up on the family farm. His parents split up when he was young and his mom and two younger siblings moved to a different province. He stayed with his dad. I love my uncle, but he hasn't always been the most responsible guy, and my cousin has always been the adult. It makes sense then that he would fight to have full custody of his four children. He's a caretaker. And thank god for that.

But the thing is, he's stuck. He lives an hour and a half from a big city; he doesn't have enough education to do more than farm and occasionally work as a bartender for the local bar. He doesn't have a whole lot of options open to him, especially with full custody of four kids. And the true heartbreak lies in the fact that these kids don't have the opportunities that other kids (mine for instance) have and so they will more than likely follow this farmer/bartender path as well.

It's just so sad. And I'm so helpless to do anything.

2. Why am I procrastinating on starting the rest of my life? I was all gung-ho. I quit my job with big plans to do a few different things. And then...stopped. It's like if I don't try I won't fail. But honestly, I need to get moving on these things; the money I have now is not going to last forever. (Especially with three sports that need to be paid for rightthissecond.) One thing I have to do is move a desk upstairs from my basement. Instead of just doing that, I had my fireplace removed, necessitating the need to paint my entire living room, which of course, can only happen if I fill all the holes. So, obviously, I can't move the desk upstairs yet, which means I can't put my sewing machine on it, which means I can't start my life. There has to be a way around all of this...

3. My body. It's yucky. I want not to think about it, though, so I made a deal with a friend that we wouldn't. I'll still workout/run every day and not be stupid about what I put into my mouth, but, other than that, no weight talking here. Deal?

That's probably not all I've been thinking about. But enough for today. I'm feeling kind of heavy (but not in a weigh-too-much way because I don't talk about that here, more in an emotional way). I think I'll read a little lamebook.com to lighten the mood.

First Week

Today is Friday. It is also the end of my first full week at my new part-time job. I'm a receptionist. I'm doing the same job that I did almost 20 years ago when I didn't have kids or a degree. The difference is: I hated it then. I hated being stuck in an office for hours on end; I hated having to use my happy voice all the time; I hated that it was a shitty, go-nowhere job.



This one is different. This one I'm only here for four hours a day. I have time to workout in the morning, I have time to do all my errands before work and at lunch, and still be home for the boys when they come home after school. Everyday, I make a list of things that need to get done, and I'm actually able to check everything off. For that matter, I'm running out of things that need to get done.



And while I'm at work? I answer the phones (which I am totally getting the hang of), I sort the mail, and when I'm not doing that? I'm working on some freelance writing. The boss has left very implicit instructions that I am not to learn anything more than answering the phone and doing mail. So far, those rules have been followed.



I do feel a little guilty at times though. I watch others run around like chickens with their heads cut off while I sit here reading magazines and making notes on style and story needs. And sometimes I feel like maybe they're looking at me and hating me because I'm not helping while they run around like chickens with their heads cut off.



But then I remember: I chose this for a reason. I chose to leave all the security of having a full-time job. Not so that I could help others do their full-time jobs; not so that I could waste my degree by working as a receptionist, but so that I could spend some time with my children and try to figure out if I can be good at stuff that actually makes me happy. This job is the money-maker for now. This job is temporary until one or two or three of the other things I have planned works out. This is not a shitty go-nowhere job like the ones I had almost 20 years ago because it is a stepping stone to something amazing.

Fist Fight

The problem with having a blog is that I often don't know what to write. Today I was reading a quiz on facebook taken by a 13-year-old girl. (Oh the angst and drama of being a 13-year-old girl.) Anyway, I decided to chose a random question from this quiz to answer on my blog.



The question is: Have you ever been in a physical fight with someone from the opposite sex?



The answer: Yes.



Shocking? Of course. Who would hit a girl? Here's the story:



In the high school I graduated from, we had an event called "Safe Grad." This required the school (teachers/principal) to pick out a random location (a field somewhere) and not tell any of the students where it was. Then, on the night that Safe Grad happened, a few busses full of graduates would drive out to this undisclosed location to party and drink. When any of the students were ready to leave, there were volunteer parents on hand to drive them home. The thought was that it would give us a safe place to party while ensuring that there was no drinking and driving.



So, there I was, at my Safe Grad, drinking and partying and having a really good time. I was talking to a friend of mine (actually, an ex-boyfriend), when a bigger boy standing behind him called his name. My ex turned, and having a little experience in the fine art of fighting, ducked. Do you see where this is going? That's right, the bigger boy punched me right in the cheek. I was stunned.



At 17, I was a little, um, well, like any other 17-year-old I suppose. At that age, we all just have a sense of entitlement, I think. My first thought was "Nobody hits [Lily Starlight]." Although, really, who was I to make that assumption. Maybe people do hit [Lily Starlight]; maybe people dream of hitting [Lily Starlight]; maybe that was a thing that was going to start happening on a regular basis.



Looking back on it now, I'm almost a little embarrassed. Because I hit him back. With my tiny, ineffectual, little fists. I hit him five or six times. He felt awful for what he had done and he kept apologizing over and over. While I was hitting him. As hard as I could. He kept talking like nothing was happening. Apparently when I fight I float like a butterfly and sting like a...butterfly. *sigh*

Last Day

This is the letter I wrote to all my coworkers on my last day:

I have been thinking about what to write in this email for a couple of weeks. Unfortunately, I still have no idea what to say. There is a lot of pressure for a writer to make written things sound good. Eeshk! Probably you’ll expect me too spell everthing write two. I’m not sure if I can handle the pressure.

I thought about making this sound like a break-up letter. It’s not you; it’s me. I think we should just be friends. I love you, but I’m not in love with you. But then I realized I don’t want to break up with y’all (thanks for the word [American girl from Augusta, Georgia that works there]). I’m leaving but I’m not dead or anything; it’d be nice to hear from everyone occasionally.

I guess all I can really say is thank you. Thanks for the experience, thanks for the fun, and thanks especially for the treats at coffee central.

And also, a special thank you to whomever left the Lindt chocolates on my desk this morning. My favourite!

The End.
[Lily Starlight]

And...DONE!

Daydream

I was having a very nice daydream while driving to work this morning. It involved…well, let’s just say it was a good one. Anyway, suddenly I noticed the car in front of me move out of my lane. And there were no other cars in front of me, and it was a little foggy and dark and I couldn’t see what was in front of me. And my heart fluttered a little because I realized: that is my life now. I can’t see what’s in front of me, but nobody else is in my way.

Woohoo!

And also, what a daydream killer.

Countdown

I did it! I quit. Only five more working days until I start my new life.

I quit while one of my coworkers was on holidays. Those of us left at work discussed how we might tell her about my leaving when she came back.

It's important to know that this is the newest member of the team. She only started a few months ago. I am the first person to quit in the entire company since she has started working there.

Scenario 1:
We thought it would be fun to have a team meeting this morning, where the boss would announce that the executive has demanded that she let one of us go. She would then say that she loves all of us and couldn't decide, so she will pass a hat around and whomever gets the piece of paper that says "FIRED" on it will be the person that has to leave. At this point the rest of us would say things along the lines of "I hate when she does this" or "Awwww, that's why Mary doesn't work here anymore."


Scenario 2:
The boss was to come in and ask me to do a small favour (perhaps ask me to send an email to one of the salesmen). The idea was that I would totally freak out. Tell her that wasn't in my job description and that if that's the way this company was going to treat me that they would have to find a way to work without me. I would then throw my stuff in a box and storm out.

We seriously giggled for hours thinking of all the ways we could mess with the new girl's mind. We're mean like that. As it turns out, we did neither of these things. Human Resources sent a notice out that I was leaving and took all our fun away.

Honestly though, if more days had been like that, I'm not sure that I'd be quitting...

Going Out

I went out this weekend. I didn't really want to go out. I was quite happy at the thought of staying in and watching "Mad Men" or "Ally McBeal" on DVD and knitting up a storm. Maybe popping some popcorn and enjoying my quiet house. But then someone got it into his head that another friend was stressed and needed a night out and I should plan it, and when someone makes you feel guilty like that--like if you don't do this for your friend then what kind of person are you--so I went out.

I should have stayed home. I drank too much. I called an old friend at 230 in the morning to come and get me even though I could've just as easily (more easily for him) taken a cab. The thought of being in my house alone was suddenly the most vile, horrible thought ever.

So, I didn't go home. I had that friend (the one who woke up and hopped in his car in his pajamas at 230 in the morning on a freezing January morning) drop me off somewhere else.

*sigh*

I shouldn't have gone out...

Team Building

At work today, our department did a team-building exercise. Just for fun. Anyway, there are six of us and we all had to write part of a story. Simultaneously. So we didn't know what anyone else was writing. This is what I wrote:

Brianne and Martin got to know each other as the evening continued. Brianne told him how her mother had died in that terrible combining accident. “She was driving down Jasper Ave during rush-hour on her way home from work as a top-level finance wizard. A big truck with farm equipment drove past her and a combine fell on top of her. It was awful. I had to identify the body. She still had the John Deere logo embossed into her forehead.” Brianne looked up at Martin with big, sad eyes. Martin patted her hand and looked back sympathetically. “I know exactly how you feel, Brianne. My goldfish died so I know what it’s like to lose someone important to you. Do you want to go somewhere to get some food.” Brianne was grateful for his understanding, “OK,” she answered, “but nothing with peanuts; I’m deathly allergic.”

As Brianne was putting on her jacket her shirt lifted slightly and Martin noticed the key chain that she was wearing on her belt loop. The one she never took off. It was a John Deere key chain.

On their way out of the bowling alley, they dropped their shoes off at the shoe counter. The man behind the counter was smarmy. He looked Brianne up and down slowly and wiggled his toothpick suggestively. Martin stepped in front of her and declared, “I suggest you stop making the lady uncomfortable. She doesn’t like it.” The shoe guy answered as all smarmy characters do with a clichéd, “What are you going to do about it?” “I’m a black belt in seven different marshal arts is what I’m going to do about it. I said, leave the lady alone.” The smarmy shoe guy looked away and wiggled his toothpick to show that he would back down…but not because he was scared or anything.

It was a funner day than usual.

But...

People in my life seem to fall into three groups:

There's the "supportive group." These are the people that have no reservations that I'm doing the right thing. They are so happy I'm quitting the job that is slowly picking away at me piece by piece until I become just a warm body with no personality. Their eyes shine when they talk about what a positive move this is. They are behind me 100 per cent.

There's the "supportive, but...group." They want to be supportive; they're trying to be supportive, but what am I going to do for money? But, what am I going to do about benefits? But, what if it doesn't work out? But, what if I'm making the wrong decision? (Is it wrong that I actually fall into this group?)

And finally, there's the "are you crazy group." These are the people that can't believe that I would take a secure, although, mind-numbing job and throw it down the drain. Especially when we're in a recession! Are you crazy? Do you know what a bad idea this is?

Which group do you belong to?

Chuck!

Every once in a while we need to take stock of our lives and start deciding what to keep and what to chuck. That time has come for me.



Kids: ­ keep (Maybe. They'll be teenagers in less than a month and I'm not sure I'm ready for that)



Extra belly fat: ­ chuck (and that goes for the thighs and hips too)



Family: ­ keep (I have a really good family. They drive me nuts but I'm pretty sure that's the definition of family)



Shitty self-esteem: ­ chuck (if I can't actually be self-confident then I'll just pretend that I am)



Friends: ­ keep (these people are amazing. Much like my family only less likely to drive me nuts)



Secure, full-time job with benefits...