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!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
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"
RA 5h 38m 16.00s-D-02 10'21.36"
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Update on #10
{because I know you care} Very married.
*snuffle*
Probably just as well.
*teary nod*
Never would have worked.
*quivering voice*
*snuffle*
Probably just as well.
*teary nod*
Never would have worked.
*quivering voice*
He's *sobbing* highly allergic to *wailing* C-C-CATS!!
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.
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?
Monday, August 24, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
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.
Friday, August 21, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
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!
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.
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.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
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?!
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?!
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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?
Monday, August 3, 2009
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.
A posse ad esse. Thanks for the push, Boy.
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