Resolutions - Ridiculous or Realistic?

I wonder, if in the entirety of humanity, there's an individual who has honestly and completely kept their New Year's Resolutions. At 40, I'm self-aware enough to know that if I lack the motivation and discipline to conquer such arduous tasks as "trim the cats' nails" before it appears on 11 consecutive To Do Lists, I'm probably not a good candidate for making dramatic, life-changing promises to myself - even if I vow to 'start fresh' on January 1st (August 8th or November 6th). Sadly, my track record speaks for itself.

While doing (probably 3 decade's worth of) spring cleaning last year, my mother unearthed a yellowed piece of lined paper bearing the title "New Years Resolution" which is 'officially' signed by me, using my full name in typical-of me-overkill fashion. The list contains 6 clearly well thought out and profound declarations of my intention to transform my young life. I offer it up here as a model for any of you looking for inspiration ...

1. Practice piano 1/2 hr at least each day.
2. Keep room clean.
3. Keep school books neat.
4. Get along better.
5. Wash hair at least once a week.
6. Have a bath at least once a week.

While I'd love to rationalize my shocking need to indicate regular personal hygiene as a 'step up' from the previous year by labelling it the handiwork of a pre-schooler, the truth is the near-perfect penmanship and bedazzled autograph indicate that I was probably ... well, let's just say old enough that cleanliness shouldn't have been a feat worth recording for posterity. Thanks Mom, for hanging on to that hall of shame souvenir all these years - what about that kick ass project on cardinals I did in Grade 2? Where's that now, huh?!

On the bright side, it appears I haven't set the bar too high for myself in the past, so perhaps a few 'resolutions' for 2010 needn't be that daunting. *pause for pensive deliberation*

1. Stop procrastinating.
2. Add to this list - tomorrow ... right after I trim the cats' nails.

New year. Same nonsense.

Wishing you a annus mirabilis.

Home Is Definitely Wherever My Heart Is

A few years back I made the difficult decision to walk away from my life in the Land of White Picket Fences and subsequently found myself unpacking my earthly treasures slightly further down the food chain, in a place I affectionately refer to as "the ghetto".

My first stop was a 2 bedroom apartment my friends and I proudly dubbed "Casa Loca". It was a sight to behold. Mmmhmm. Right out of the pages of Better Homes and Gardens, I tell ya. BH&G circa 1957, that is. I'm not sure which I fell in love with first - the robin's egg blue tub, matching sink and mis-matching yellow, black and pink tile in the bathroom OR the 'push button' stove top (you know it's bad when your 60+ yr old parents have no frame of reference for such an appliance!). I'd include photos, but that would inevitably lead each of you to covet my good fortune and I simply can't be responsible for anyone (besides myself) breaking one of the 10 Commandments on a Sunday.

If all the *ahem* one-of-a-kind fixtures weren't enough to sell me on the place, I soon discovered that my new home also came with an around the clock watchdog service - namely unemployed 'Toothless heart transplant guy' in the unit above and 'Pajama pants grandpa' in the unit below - no fearful nights for this newly single-again gal!

As much as it pained me, after a year of livin' the high life in Unit 6, I set out in search of something a little more spacious and a whole lot more soundproof. Leaving remnants of my glamorous new lifestyle at the curb (sadly, not every piece of 2nd hand furniture is built to survive multiple transitions), I hit the jackpot AGAIN (what are the odds?!) and moved the remainder of my worldly goods *read Tupperware* into a 2 bedroom townhouse in a fabulous neighbourhood (why, just today we had police cars roaring down our street at 8 am - talk about tight security!). It's my self-proclaimed "Castle of Fun" where - you guessed it - the thrills are cheap, and anything goes.

While I haven't yet discovered any rare and unique amenities in Unit 7 , I'm pretty sure it still qualifies as ghetto livin' and that suits me just fine. There's been something humbling, but also liberating about calling these places home. It's my space (as long as I keep dropping those cheques in the Superintendent's mailbox each month) and it's filled with an abundance of laughter and love (not to mention my $13 TV *cha-ching*) ... that's my idea of prime real estate. No white picket fence required.

Fronti nulla fides.

Fair Warning ~ to Men Everywhere!

There are only 73 shopping days 'til Christmas, guys ... use 'em wisely!

*Special thanks to the BWSRN for sending me this link last year; hmmm, wonder why that was?!*

Caveat emptor.

Be Thankful

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that

the highest appreciation is not to utter words,

but to live by them."

~ John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Acta non verba.

Faith Restored

I really dig my lawyer. He wears dress shirts with monogrammed french cuffs and each time I'm in his office he's sporting a new pair of whimsical cuff links. He uses a tortoise shell fountain pen that I covet (and, come to think of it, probably paid for) and shares my belief that watches aren't just timepieces, they're a reflection of your personal style (and you neeeed more than 1). If all of this weren't enough to make him one of my favourite people - he has Latin on his letterhead, and (despite his accessory savoir faire) he's a guy's guy who loves my Montreal Canadiens.

Today I'm especially fond of my lawyer - not for any of the above reasons - but because he's proven once again that he's the ideal advocate for me. Over the past 10 months he's given me a virtual cuff to the back of the head when I was tempted to sell myself short, chastised me for crying cuz I'm "stronger than that" ... and acted both wisely and efficiently to secure my interests. Yes, it is a job I pay him *coughbillionscough* to do, but of his own accord he's played fair and he's played clean. I really dig that.

Fortiter in re, suaviter in modo .

Cara Mia, Leandra ~ Con Amore

"If there is anything that we wish to change in the child, we should first examine it and see whether it is not something that could better be changed in ourselves." ~ C.G. Jung

I see in her both traces of my strengths and echoes of my weaknesses ... my darling lioness cub. I should have known when she entered this world with a roar that she would be capable of not only bringing me to my knees in utter desperation, but also moving me to tears of immense pride and adoration.

She's fearless, strong-willed and unyielding ... while simultaneously deeply compassionate, generous and loving. My job as her Mama is to help her strike that delicate balance between the extremes - a job for which I feel woefully under qualified. Moderation and shades of grey have never been hallmarks of my character; further indication that she is indeed my flesh and blood!

While she challenges me daily and forces me to look inward at my own inconsistencies, I see evidence of the woman she has the potential to become ... one whose strength of character and unshakable resolve will leave an indelible mark of greatness on her world. (That is, of course, assuming we both survive her childhood intact! lol)

Dulcius ex asperis.

"Bittersweet October"

"The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause
between the opposing miseries of summer and winter."
~ Carol Bishop Hipps

You Can Say That Again

"There are times when parenthood seems nothing but

feeding the mouth that bites you."

~ Peter de Vries

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.

21 (Give or Take) Things

Alanis Morissette sings about the "21 things" she wants in a lover and each time I hear the song I wonder how my list of "not necessarily needs but qualities that I prefer" might read. Ever the underachiever, however, I immediately decide that 21 is a really, really big number and I should probably whittle my version down to a modest 12 ... or if my attention span wanes ('oh look, something sparkly!') then perhaps a scant 5 would fit the bill.

Building on her "I figure I can describe it since I have a choice in the matter" here's my DRAFT wish list (I saw that eye roll *points finger in direction of a smirking BWSRN*) ya know, off the top of my head ...

1. Someone who can/will hang a picture or assemble a piece of furniture without having a tempter tantrum rivalling that of a 2 year old child.
2. Someone who will look after all things automotive. I want to drive the car; this is the extent of my interest.
3. Someone who knows his way around Home Depot - more specifically, the paint dept. *fantasizes about crossing 're-do rec room' off list of jobs to avoid, delay and/or pawn off*
4. Someone who would offer to lug the groceries and 92 lb bag of cat litter into the house ... before hell freezes over.
5. Someone who agrees that ironing is an archaic, repressive domestic task best left to dry cleaners (or his mom when she visits).
6. Someone who believes the above 'duties' to be the very definition of a rockin' good time!

(Note: I figured including "Someone who would encourage me to spend more time shopping for accessories and less time making him delicious, nutritionally balanced meals from scratch" would probably see me institutionalized for completely losing grip of reality *sigh* but still I dream!)

All right, so maybe what I'm looking for isn't so much a 'lover' as a handyman/valet. *laughing* This actually bodes well for me ... HIM I can at least find in the Yellow Pages, right?! Regardless, I'm with Miz Morissette when she concludes that "there are no worries and certainly no pressure; in the meantime I'll live like there's no tomorrow".

Dum spiro, spero.

Life's Most Embarrassing Moments #493

Thinking I'm a superstar for parking the car and going in to Tim Horton's for my morning coffee - as opposed to being my usual slacker self and idling in the drive-thru for 2.12 hours - I stride past the handful of city maintenance guys smoking in front of the store, pull open the door, take 1.5 steps and *whoosh* land flat on my youknowwhat, while the gaggle of seniors inside gawk shamelessly.

There's really nothing quite like a big, fat dose of humiliation first thing in the morning to make you want to turn around and go back home ... and pull the covers over your head.

(A belated thank you to the very nice gentleman who rushed over to offer assistance and ask if I was okay ... sorry I was too mortified to respond with anything coherent!)

Alterum ictum faciam.

I Concur ~ Wholeheartedly

"The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved

- loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves."
~ Victor Hugo

Fortius quo fidelius.

As a Wise Man Once Said ...

"Finish each day and be done with it.

You have done what you could;

some blunders and absurdities have crept in;
forget them as soon as you can.

Tomorrow is a new day;

you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit

to be encumbered with your old nonsense."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Horas non numero nisi serenas.

Don't Try 'n Stop Me!

I did something very un "me" like today. I grabbed a whole stack of books that have been on my bookshelf/coffee table/kitchen counter/desk, etc. collecting dust and I put 'em in a bag and I promptly dropped 'em off at the nearest charity box. Now, normally that wouldn't be noteworthy 'cause I'm a biiig believer in purging & pitching anything 'n everything that's not being put to good use (or is just plain annoying me) - but, BUT, here's the catch - I had not read these books in their entirety and for me, tossing them unfinished *horror of horrors* would normally be paramount to sacrilege.

Giving myself permission to stop plugging away at a novel I'd completely lost interest in and to discard a biography just because it no longer appealed to me (regardless of the cost involved) was completely liberating! In the past these texts would have sat in my library stressing me out at every glance because they represented items yet-to-be-crossed off my To Do List With No End - that is, until I found the steely resolve to turn every last page, even if it killed me.

Buoyed by my unprecedented disregard for the above-mentioned Law of Irrational Thinking, I'm considering getting really rebellious and finally ditching that basket of clothes in the back of my closet. You know the one I'm talking about, ladies. The one filled with agonizing reminders of the body you used to have - before children and mid-life wear and tear; clothes there's not a snowball's chance in Hell you'll ever don again, but you'll be damned if you'll let the dream die 'cause this is the spring/summer/winter/fall you're going to finally make it happen. *self-deprecating laughter*

You know, I think I may be on to something. If I dump the Barbie wardrobe, then I'd be free to pitch the "Pilates for Dummies" DVD without guilt (yes, the one I couldn't even force myself to watch from start to finish, let alone practice) and the Yoga mat which barely made it out of the packaging (honestly, who was I trying to kid with that one?!) ... and following close behind would be the stack of outdated magazines hailing 'miracle exercises' guaranteed to give me the body I deserve in 3 days or less' and variations of the ever-popular, but humanly unattainable 'drop 6 dress sizes by *insert any upcoming holiday* eating plan that I'm FOR SURE going to start on Monday ... if not next Monday ... or some Monday in 2014.

Complete pandemonium, I can see it now.

Diabolus fecit, ut id facerem.

It's Called "Random Thoughts" for a Reason

Hi, I'm Lux Solis and I'm a "Quote-aholic" (always figured a 12 Step Program of some sort was in my future). One of my favourite (nerdy) pastimes is digging up both razor-sharp, witty quips and deep, big-word using profundities from authors I admire - and then dropping them into correspondence (or blog entries) to make myself look cultured and well-read (or just plain smarter than I really am). Is it working so far? Forget I asked.

Anyway, I stumbled across some non-pensive, kinda smart-assy stuff by Mark Twain tonight that made me smile and thought I'd share a few of my favourites ...

"Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company."

"Sometimes I wonder whether the world is being run by smart people who are putting us on or by imbeciles who really mean it."

"In Paris they simply stared at me when I spoke to them in French; I never did succeed in making those idiots understand their language."

"I thoroughly disapprove of duels. If a man should challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet place and kill him."

"July 4. Statistics show that we lose more fools on this day than in all the other days of the year put together. This proves, by the number left in stock, that one fourth of July per year is now inadequate, the country has grown so."

"Suppose you were an idiot, and suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself."

"Just the omission of Jane Austen's books alone would make a fairly good library out of a library that hadn't a book in it." (Yikes! *shuffles beloved copy of 'Emma' out of view*)

In retrospect, maybe it's just the number of times he uses the word 'idiot' that endears him to me. His honesty and blunt nature are a refreshing change from all the political correctness we have to trip over these days. I vote for more telling it like it is and more name-calling! Um ... maybe don't quote me on that last part.

Quid quid latine dictum sit, altum videtur.

In the Quiet Hours

“I must learn to love the fool in me
the one who feels too much
talks too much
takes too many chances
wins sometimes and loses often
lacks self-control
loves and hates
hurts and gets hurt
... laughs and cries”
Theodore Isaac Rubin

De die in diem.

Finally! Words I Can Live By

"... it's better to be absolutely RiDicUlOuS than absolutely boring ..."
~ Marilyn Monroe

Indulgentiam quaeso.

"A Single Dream. A World of Hope."

Twenty-nine years ago I participated in the very first Terry Fox Run for Cancer Research. I was 10 years old and, like all Canadians, captivated by the dream of a heroic young man who had lost a leg to the disease. He called it his 'Marathon of Hope' and his goal was to run from coast to coast raising awareness and research funds to "make the hurting stop".

Incredibly, he logged 5,373 kilometres over 143 consecutive days, raising $24.17 million (a dollar for every Canadian, just as he'd hoped) before cancer returned and took his life, a month before his 23rd birthday.

Today I had the privilege of sharing the Terry Fox Run experience with my daughter for the first time; she is 10 years old and the poignancy of the similarity was not lost on me. Over the past year she has been absolutely mesmerized by all things Terry Fox -- his story, his accomplishments, his vision. Our house is brimming with every piece of memorabilia ever produced in his honour. She steadfastly believes, as he did, that every contribution and effort counts, no matter how small. Her enthusiasm and dedication have been infectious. Over the course of a few months her friends and family contributed almost $700 to her cause ... making her happier than any Christmas or birthday gift ever has.

Side by side we walked the 10 km route today, feeling quite proud of our accomplishment - that is, until we remembered that Terry ran an average of 42 km's every day for almost 5 MONTHS ... with a very primitive looking artificial leg. Talk about putting things into perspective!

I don't know what my girl will grow up to be, or what her legacy will be, but if she retains even a fraction of the optimism, determination, integrity and compassion that she models after her hero, Terry Fox, then my hopes and dreams for her life will certainly be realized.

“How many people do something they really believe in? I just wish people would realize that

anything's possible, if you try; dreams are made, if people try."

~ Terry Fox, Sept. 1980

Ringside Seats on Sale Now!

Ladies and Gentlemen, it appears we've got a rivalry brewing right here in our midst at RTFTEOS. "Comment Leaver Extraordinaire" Wendy and recently crowned "Follower of the Month" BWSRN are going head-to-head in a vicious effort to claim the title of First ... well, First ANYTHING - as long as the other one is left out in the cold!

The pressure's been relentless from the Pink Corner and let me tell ya, I have reason to fear. When we were younger, Wendy threatened to 'slap my face right off' AND (as if that wasn't traumatizing enough) to 'not be my cousin anymore, if that were possible'! *pauses for gasps of horror from the reader* What sparked such a scathing piece of correspondence (oh yes, it was in writing and I gleefully preserved it for 20 years so I could mortify her with it when we reached adulthood) ... pffft! like you had to ask - it was about A BOY, naturally. What else would bring 2 otherwise 'sane adolescent girls' (is that an oxymoron? *raised eyebrow*) to blows? Well, technically only one of us would have been swinging, the other would have been running for her life *points to self*. Thankfully my grovelling and snivelling skills were honed early and I managed to keep both my face AND my family status intact!

Not easily intimidated or swayed from his quest for 'Blog Mention Domination', the BWSRN flexes brazenly in the Blue Corner. He winks crassly at Wendy in between shirtless crunches and mouths a sarcastic 'good luck'. There's no bullying of the author on his agenda - not when he has something much more powerful in his arsenal ... Boy Kryptonite. That's right, folks - he's pulling out all the stops and is executing his plan with absolute precision. Spoiling and flattering Ms. Solis with endless kudos, dropping links to this piece of cyberspace in mailboxes across the country, begging for priority placement in the Follower's section, pressing for early notification when a new entry is published - make no mistake, he's a man on a mission and no chick *he says while thumbing his nose in Wendy's direction* is gonna stand in his way. "Bring it!" he scoffs to his scrappy and street smart opponent. This tireless competitor's confidence in his devilish charms and suave demeanour is unshakable. He vows to take his reign as Friend of the Month clear into 2010 - yes, he's that cocky! *insert 12 yr old boy laughter*

I write this thing and even I don't know who's gonna be the last one standing ... the rivalry is FIERCE and neither side has shown any sign of weakness or backing down. Those of you with strong stomachs and nerves of steel, grab a snack and enjoy the show! *ding*

Id imperfectum manet dum confectum erit.

The Good, the Bad, the Downright Depressing

Good News:
My little philanthropist of a daughter raised over $500 for her favourite charity this week! I hope she never loses her idealism and passion for helping others. What a great kid ... and what a great bunch of friends and family who so generously supported her!

Bad News:
Went to renew my $120 parking pass for work and got a $30 parking ticket ... for having an expired parking pass. WTH? Isn't there a law against that kind of piracy?!

Worse News:
Took my SFBC in to have that ABS light problem looked at (yes, the one I've been ignoring for *mumble mumble* awhile now) along with a few other 'minor' things. The dealer called hours later and started with 'It's not good news'. I have no idea what came next, I was too busy chanting "lalalala not listening" with my hands over my ears. I find that to be a really effective way of dealing with unfavourable topics.

Insult to Injury News:
Went to the mailbox after work and found a bill from my lawyer. Apparently he's ploughed through that first million I gave him and would appreciate it if I'd either shell out another couple grand or give him my soul. I'm seriously considering the soul sell-out at this point.

Be sure to tune in next Thursday for more whiney, woe-is-me, tales of gloom and misfortune with your very own, 'ray of Sunshine'.

Ignis aurum probat, miseria fortes viros.

And the "Follower of the Month Award" goes to ...

The Boy Who Shall Remain Nameless!
*cue thunderous applause, balloons, streamers, confetti, marching bands, sky-writing, world media, dancing girls, and cake with lots 'n lots of icing*

In recognition of ...
* his constant, gentle, and laden-with-laughter prodding to make this happen
* his shameless, tireless and selfless promotion of my early efforts here

... and for naming my blog, long before it was even born. Over the past 2.75 years he's watched me teeter, totter and cling to the 'Edge of Sanity', but even in my darkest hour he never stopped seeing the best and the brightest in me; a truly life-changing gift.

I realize being named RTFTEOS's 1st Ever "Follower of the Month" doesn't quiiiiite repay you for your loyalty and patience, Boy - but then, what could?! Hmm, how 'bout if I declare you - in front of God and the 3 other people actually reading this - RTFTEOS's 1st Ever "FRIEND of the Month" Ages 12 & under category *laughing* Yeah, that's spectacular!

Ex abundancia cordis, os loquitor.

Wanna Know a Secret?

Every Sunday morning before heading off to church (hey! don't look so surprised by that) I log on to my computer and read PostSecret. In case you've been living under a rock and haven't heard of it, it's an "ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard".

I love the creative aspect of the project. Some people go all out, making their very personal submission a true work of art. The cards featured each week run from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. Some secrets are gut-wrenchingly sad, some are brazenly offensive and some hit a nerve and stay with me long after I've walked away from the screen.

My 'now-not-so-secret' secret? I spend every Monday through Saturday trying to think of an uber cool, never before been told tidbit of my own to submit. How hard can it be, right? I mean, I've always considered myself to be (under the Sagittarian eternal optimist, bubbly, chatterboxy persona I show most people, most of the time) a pretty private, sorta secretive, mildly mysterious Jane Bond kinda girl - but alas, a year of snooping into other people's deep dark secrets later and I still got nothin' worth the cost of the U.S. postage.

Clearly, I'd never cut it as an International Woman of Mystery. Thank God I've got those shorthand skills to fall back on, huh?! *big ol' eye roll*

Qui vir odiosus!

When Darkness Comes

"He bid them look at the sky and lift their faces to the stars."

RA 5h 38m 16.00s-D-02 10'21.36"

Ad vitam aeternam.

Update on #10

{because I know you care}

Matt? The Bell Canada repair guy?

Very dreamy.
*sniffle*

Very married.
*snuffle*
Probably just as well.
*teary nod*
Never would have worked.
*quivering voice*

He's *sobbing* highly allergic to *wailing* C-C-CATS!!

Luctor et emergo.

It's a Freakin' Miracle!

One of my bestest friends gave birth to a new baby girl last month (Mmm, adorable!), so in an effort to give her a bit of a reprieve, I asked if I could 'kidnap' her other 2 cherubs and take them on a day trip along with my own 2 darlings. Piece of cake, right? Wow. I'd forgotten how cumbersome it is to travel with a toddler! NOT because her 2 1/2 year old is difficult to care for in any way *he's pret'near perfect in my eyes* but because of the bazillions of safety steps required just to get the child secured in the car. Tether bolts, locking clips, 5 point harnesses - you practically need an engineering degree to figure this stuff out properly!

Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining. I wholeheartedly agree that keeping kids safe while we're driving is worth every bit of time and effort required. When my crew were little I happily complied with whatever the gov't standards were. What amazes me, however, is how any of us survived our childhoods with the lackadaisical approach our parents (ie society) took towards road safety during those years. I know there was less traffic back then and cars weren't travelling 100+ km/hr, but still - come on!

Case in point: My Mom says that when we were babies they used to lie us in the bassinet and then set it on the back seat, completely unrestrained, while running errands around town. WTH? In comparing notes with friends, I know many of us have vivid memories of being school-age and sitting on our Mom's lap in the passenger seat, or behind the wheel with Dad while he drove. Heck, after visiting friends at night, I'd fake being asleep sometimes just so I'd get carried to the car and be guaranteed a spot where the action was. No one ever suggested these habits were dangerous and a very, very bad idea.

Our family had one of those massive station wagons with the pop-up seats in the 'trunk' area and my sisters and I loved climbing back and forth over the benches into the 'way back' (as we called it) while our parents were cruising down the country roads. Seat belts? Never heard of 'em. Occasionally, out of the blue, the rear gate on our deluxe mobile would fly open. Nobody panicked, we'd just yell "DOOR!" and the driver would hit the brakes hard (sending us flying around) 'til we heard a solid bang. Problem solved. We actually got quite a kick out of that, to be honest!

Yet another potential death trap was my Dad's work van. It had only a driver's seat and a passenger's seat, so if we needed to travel in it as a family, we'd just set up lawn chairs in the back for us kids ... and Dad would try not to take corners too sharply. (The visual still astounds me!) If it was a long trip, they might toss an old mattress in the back for us to tumble around on and sleep, if necessary. Again, more laughter and 'good times'.

I distinctly remember when they introduced the law requiring seat belt use and how strange and annoying it felt to be strapped in so tightly. People complained and resisted - it was unnecessary and inhumane. Here we are, 30+ yrs later and seat belts rarely get a mention; we've got the greenhouse effect and sky-high gas prices to rage against instead, right?

But seriously ... while it's fun to trip down memory lane and recall all the cRaZy risks we took - and miraculously lived to tell - I don't want to undermine the countless tragedies that must have taken place during that time of naiveté. I think we can all agree that while "ignorance may be bliss", it does have its limitations.

Experientia docet stultos.

Things That Make Me Go "Hmm ..."

I can't get to sleep tonight, so I figured I'd log on and bore each of you into a slumber while sharing some of the deep thoughts and burning questions that are whisking through my head (think tumbleweed down the streets of an ol' ghost town). If you've got answers to any of this stuff, by all means, please share! (If you'd rather just make fun of my ramblings and musings, well - that's even better.) Here we go, in no particular order ...

1. Exactly how long can I keep ignoring the awful grinding noise and random ABS brake light before I do permanent damage to my shiny, fast, black car?

2. When does the law of respectability dictate that I remove my nose ring? Is there an unspoken cut-off age when it goes from being a form of self-expression to being 'just plain wrong'?

3. What does it say about my love life when Bell Canada's campaign to 'woo me back' from their competitors gets credit for being the most romantic phone call I've had in recent memory (and by 'recent' I mean the past decade or two *wince*)?

4. Did I actually spend my weekend trimming the purr-balls' claws, making sure the critters got enough exercise & attention while the kids are away ... and watching a movie that I forgot I'd already seen - possibly twice? Helllllo?! Where were my friends with the intervention?

5. Should I grow my hair long(er)? Even though I know I'll probably just hack it all off again because it ends up annoying me?

6. What time is it now?? Ugh.

7. If I finally get that funky cool artwork added to my tattoo, will I end up regretting it? *pictures self in nursing home with indiscernible blotches of ink on her thin, wrinkly skin*

8. Did my parents really think the Chicago and Air Supply cassettes they confiscated from my room as a kid were going to lead me to a life of moral depravity? Air Supply. AIR SUPPLY?! *shakes head in disbelief* Wonder what they'd think of my musical tastes today. *evil cackle*

9. Is anyone still reading this drivel?? My condolences if they are.

10. *yawn* Most importantly, I wonder if the Bell repair guy who's coming tomorrow will be a hottie. *fingers crossed* Guess I'd better go get my beauty sleep ... just in case!

Animadvertistine, ubicumque stes, fumum recta in faciem ferri?

A Tough Act to Follow ~ Hers, Not Mine!

Every once in awhile (okay, I'll confess - usually when I'm procrastinating) I'll reflect on the day-to-day stuff of my childhood and I'll wonder how things could change so much from one generation to another.

For almost my entire growing up years I was lucky enough to have a "stay-at-home" Mom. She was our primary caregiver and handled almost all the domestic tasks required to keep a family and house functioning smoothly. I always hoped that if I had children of my own one day, I too would be able to exchange my place in the paid workforce for ... a spot on the couch ... watching soap operas all day ... eating Oreos straight from the bag ... while the kids were raised by the dog. *exaggerated eye roll* I was a natural June Cleaver - I was sure of it.

I can't quite pinpoint where the wheels fell off. My example was there, without question, but it seems I was either too lazy to learn, or too dumb to retain, even a 1/4 of the domestic skills my Mom (and most of her peers) demonstrated on a daily basis.

+ My Mom baked bread and cookies for our lunches (guess who traded with her classmates for their store-bought stuff? *sheepish*) and prepared a real supper, including dessert, for her family every night.

- I won all kinds of ribbons at the county fair for my homemade baking 'n such ... when I was in grade school. All I have to show for those promising early talents now are - well, the yellowed newspaper clippings bearing my name and show-stopping abilities.

+ My mom picked, canned and froze every fruit and vegetable imaginable. Our cold room was lined with shelves of preserves and the freezer was stocked for winter.

- Okay *sigh* I can't do any of that. But *light bulb moment* maybe it's because I have post-traumatic something or other from the time my Mom "accidentally" (jury's still out on this one) reached for a bottle of rug shampoo instead of the vinegar and fed her poor, unsuspecting husband and kids 'toxic' pickled beets! (We've gotten a lot of mileage out of this one, trust me!)

+ To save money, my Mom sewed a lot of our clothes when we were little. She was even so zealous as to take a course on sewing with polyester! Not to be wasteful, she made us underwear from the scraps - with elastic so tight it left little crinkly marks *ouch!* around the tops of our thighs. (Another classic in our family storytelling repertoire!)

- I think the first (and, not surprisingly, last) article of clothing I ever sewed was a 'wrap-around' skirt for Grade 7 Home Economics class. *shudder* I'm pretty sure my Mom wanted to take her hands and 'wrap-em-around' my throat by the time that project was complete. Apparently I don't take direction well. (Act surprised.)

+ My Mom knit us hats, mitts, sweaters, etc. She could crotchet, embroider, cross-stitch and - AND, I do believe I remember a canister full of those paints used to create the unforgettable black velvet paintings everyone was so fond of back then. Actually, back up. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure my Dad's to blame for the black velvet 'praying Jesus' which adorned our living room wall for years. (He's not reading this, right?)

- I, on the other hand, had to be bribed with big money ($2.00) to finish knitting a scarf I started. My most notable crafty endeavour was a huge, hideous by any recollection, rug hooking *cringe* of a poodle. It only took me approx. 3 years to complete. I think I ended up giving it to my parents as an 'anniversary gift' one year. (Karma - I'm ready for it, don't worry.)

+ My Mom faithfully hung load after load of freshly laundered clothes to dry on the line outside, then ironed and starched each piece - including pillow cases, table cloths and tea towels.

- Here's where I make up some of my deficit. *proud* See, I actually enjoy laundry duty. Well, most of it, anyway. The part about ironing? Yeah, um ... I have an iron, I do. Honest. Just don't ask me to produce it any time soon.

*hangs head in shame* There you have it, the ugly truth of how I mismanaged an entire generation's domestic know-how. What am I going to pass down to my kids in its place, you ask? Um, can sarcasm and verbal posting diarrhea (ask the BWSRN) be considered life skills?

Well, whatever happens I'm sure my best intentions (like those of my Mother) to raise productive, contributing members of society ... will result in countless hours of mockery and larger-than-life tales that they'll use to entertain their friends and, of course, torment ME in my old age. *smile* I look forward to it.

Ut sementem feceris, ita metes.

So You Wish You Could Dance

True Confession ~ I can't dance.
I don't mean I dance poorly. I'm not even implying that I resemble Elaine from Seinfeld when I shake my 'groove thang'. I mean that I, Ms. Fairly Well Adjusted, Been on the Planet for *coughalmost40cough* years, literally do not know how to dance and in fact, have never actually danced for really real, in public ~ with or without a partner.

Take a minute to let that sink in ... I'll wait.

First of all, you should know it's all my parents' fault. Whaaat? I've exceeded the statute of limitations on that one? All right, fine *grumble* I'll take some responsibility for getting to this point in my life without acquiring this seemingly basic 'life skill' ... butttt, I think not being allowed to attend school dances (or even take dance during gym class, if my memory serves me correctly) put me at a clear disadvantage, don't you? *nod with me*

Like lots of my friends at the time, I was raised in a very conservative home, in a very small town and dancing was just one item on a long list of "Thou shalt not's". There were other classmates who also sat out, so it actually didn't seem like a big deal at the time. I never felt I was being deprived of anything 'important' and to be honest, I was probably relieved not to be put in a situation where I might feel self-conscious or out of my element.

While my 'flair for over-dramatization' (in case you hadn't picked up on that yet) would lead me to portray myself as being scarred for life and saddled with shame due to my 'repressive' childhood, the reality is that even with unlimited access to dance floors and dance partners, it's unlikely that I'd be any more skilled or experienced than I am now. I've always been a 'stay out of the limelight, hold the coats 'n purses, snap the pictures while everyone else rushes the stage' kind of girl and the only time I really feel left out - and well, kinda dumb - these days is at weddings. I absolutely love watching people who have great rhythm take to the floor and envy their confidence and grace.

My parents recently attended a family wedding and while relaying the details of the occasion my Mom mentioned that she and my Dad had DANCED (*gasp* more than once!) at the reception and had a lovely time. All I could think was, "Gee, thanks for changing the rules NOW you two!" See? Told you it was all their fault! *grin*

Nemo risum praebuit, qui ex se coepit.

Work Shmerk

I have the best job ever, just ask the BWSRN. He takes great pleasure in teasing me about how his hard earned tax dollars are being spent to fund my 'business' lunches at cool new restaurants, team 'meetings' in funky gourmet coffee shops and all-expense paid trips across the country to shop, er ... attend conferences. To be honest, I don't blame my friends for being a teeny tiny bit jealous of all the perks I receive - I marvel daily at my good fortune! Besides all the above-mentioned benefits, I also have complete flexibility to work around my kids' schedules and more importantly, I get to spend time with people that I truly respect, admire and enjoy.

I've been in the workforce long enough to know how rare and wonderful it is to find a position that utilizes my technical skills and feeds into my personal interests and passions, and I vow never to take any of it for granted. I was hired to work part-time hours, but most weeks you'll find me here daily, simply because I'm interested in the work we do and I love the camaraderie. If I didn't need the financial compensation -- to well, feed my children and put a roof over our heads -- I'd probably work here for free. That's how loyal and committed I feel. Nuts, huh?

Like most people my age, I've paid my dues over the years working long hours, doing menial tasks, in low-paying jobs, for people who weren't appreciative, with co-workers who were incompetent and/or lazy. Now that I think about it, I can hardly wait to exercise my parental right to bore my kids to tears with the 'when I was your age' stories. "Do you know how much I made at my first job? $3.25 an hour, that's how much - and you know what else? I had to buy all my own clothes with that money ..." On and on I'll drone and rant until their eyes glaze over and they tune me out completely. Makes me smile just thinking about it.

Whoa! Would you look at that?! 2:30 on a Friday afternoon, my boss is long gone and I'm still sitting here 'slaving' away. Guess I should finally pack up and start my weekend! *laughing as I wait for an eyeroll and virtual swat from the BWSRN*

Omnes aequo animo parent ubi digni imperant.

Stell-AGH!!

Stella is the latest addition to our growing family of purr-balls. Stella is a rescued pet and I assure you, she takes full advantage of this fact to play on our sympathies. Stella is worse than a clingy toddler. Stella follows me incessantly and more than once has almost sent me reeling down the stairs when she got under foot. Stella whines and cries at night until I tuck her in beside me for a few minutes of cuddling. Stella licks my face, arms and hands every morning until I can't stand it a second longer and grudgingly stumble to the basement to feed her. In short, Stella is a sweet, loving, beautiful ... pain in the butt!

Stella is also the reason I have almost 1/4" of bare skin in the middle of my left eyebrow today. Looking back, I blame myself. I'm a mother, I have special instincts, I should have known to lock her out of the bathroom while I waxed. Yes, she would have scratched and cried the entire time, but it would have been worth the added stress. Somewhere, deep down, I must have known from experience that she was likely to jump up on the vanity and rub hard against my arm for attention. I must have visualized my hand lurching forward and dropping a glob of the gooey substance smack dab in the middle of my eyebrow, right?

There's 1 unavoidable fact when it comes to the use of hot wax: What goes on, must come off ... and that includes anything and everything it's touched. Oh, the pain was nothing in comparison to the shock of seeing myself in the mirror with this gaping hole where the halves of my eyebrow used to meet on the curve. I glared at Stella and I swear I saw a thought bubble over her head with the words, "Oh, crap! 9 lives ... minus the look on her face ... yeah, I'm dead!"

According to the gospel of Google, I'll be pencilling in the missing area (and avoiding being photographed and hoping people don't stand too close during conversation and saving enough $ to ensure all future hair removal is done in a professional setting) for approx 2-3 weeks while I wait for the new stuff to grow in. Hmm, I wonder how long it will take for Stella's furry eyebrows to return. (I'm kidding PETA, I'm kidding! Ha. Ha. Ha.)

Feles mala.

Single Ladies, Take Heart

One of my favourite women endured a pretty messy break-up last year. After almost a decade of dating, Single Guy still hadn't stepped up and proved he was worthy of lifetime material status. In fact, he'd even declared himself Probably Meant to Be Alone Forever. Well, you all know what happened. Within months he was not only dating someone new but *ta-da* engaged!

Now, my friend is a tough cookie with a full, amazing life, but the news still stung. Understandably. I think after a break-up every woman hopes to eventually be dancin' around the house, with Beyonce on backup, singin' "if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it" ... while her ex flounders to find meaning in a life without her (Hey, a girl can dream!). Yes, I'm preeetty sure stumbling across images of a former flame and their new fiancee (or fiance) on Facebook isn't anyone's fantasy outcome.

Fast forward to a week ago. I went to visit my friend, expecting her to be a little melancholy since the whirlwind nuptials had just passed, but to my surprise she could barely contain her giddiness. A chance encounter days before with a member of Hamster Brain's (no offense to my critter friends) family [which cranks the reliability factor of the story way up, right?] revealed the following details that "turned her frown upside down" pretty damn quick.

• apparently the groom got cold feet on his wedding day *smile*
• as a result he was an hour late for the ceremony *giggle*
• his bride-to-be was left waiting at the altar while he ... wandered around Walmart!

There it was, a priceless gift from the Relationship Karma Gods, dropped right into her lap. We give them 6 months.

Cuivis dolori remedium est patientia.

An Unimaginable Sorrow

I attended the funeral of a 3 year old child today.

How I hope and pray I never have to utter those words again.

Curae leves loquuntur ingentes stupent.

They say Self-Examination is Good for the Soul

I have a 'milestone' birthday looming on the horizon (cue furtive party planning efforts family & friends) and while I can honestly say I'm not overly concerned with the vanity aspects of aging, I have started to ponder my mortality just a liiiittle.

Today, for example, while I was honing my procrastination skills (*sigh* if only it was a paid position) I began to reflect on some of the random bits of ridiculousness that have accumulated over the past *mumble mumble* years to make me ... well, "me". Okay, I'll share, but no laughing - got it?!

1. I don't smoke, but admit to having a lifelong fascination with cigarettes. Seriously, if not for the fact that they - well, can kill you, I'd probably be lit up from dawn 'til dark. Where did my distorted thinking originate? Hmm. Let's see, could it be because my mom worked in a tobacco factory while I was in utero? How about because my pre-school days were spent with a chain-smoking babysitter who let me 'help' her roll tobacco? What? Doesn't every 4 yr old come home from daycare 'smoking' pencils? Good call, Mom & Dad.


2. I consistently forget my best friend's birthday (not my proudest accomplishment, obviously *cringe*) and yet somehow, 29 yrs later, I still remember every darn lyric to Kenny Roger's 1980 hit, The Gambler; a song that (for reasons defying logic) my music teacher thought us kids should learn. It's stuck in your head now too, isn't it? Feel free to curse me.


3. I love words. I love languages. I love books - classic and current. I love blathering on endlessly in written form (just ask the BWSRN), but as a teen I declined invitations from 3 universities to study English and potentially earn 'real' credentials - choosing instead to focus my time and energy mastering such highly useful and much sought after skills as ... shorthand. Oh yeah, that's opened a lot of doors over the years.


4. I think I'm pretty creative. I certainly have enormous appreciation for the arts. I travelled to Italy for the sole purpose of seeing the Sistine Chapel (Bucket List Item #1 - check). My artistic ability, sadly, is so pathetic that my child (at age 5) could only look at me in shock and horror (s'true!) when handed my interpretation of her pet hamster. Yes, it was that bad.


5. I've never been what I would term an 'animal lover'. I have 5 pets in my home right now and I say it's because I'm weak when it comes to the pleading cries of my children. Riiiight. The kids have been at Grandma's for 2 wks and have barely asked about 'their' pets. Me? I cut my holiday wknd short cuz I was worried the "purr-balls" and "critters" might not survive without me. I know what you're thinking. It's all downhill from here, isn't it?

Te nosce.

Look Boy, I'm WRITING!

There's a certain BWSRN (Boy Who Shall Remain Nameless) who has been relentlessly encouraging me to 'write' for as long as I've known him; so here I am ... finally offering to the masses (cuz he promised there'd be masses!) a glimpse at both the ridiculous and the profound that he's graciously listened to, laughed at and looked past during the course of our friendship.

While I realize it's highly unlikely that my online 'blurbs' are going to knock the literary world off its axis, earn me a Pulitzer or Nobel Prize (mention in the Psychiatric Times? entirely possible!) I will do my best to enlighten, entertain ... and *mumble* something else that sounds intelligent and starts with an 'e'.

A posse ad esse. Thanks for the push, Boy.