A Moment on the Mind

Girls of Summer

2011-07-22T21:02:00.002-04:00

In the summer of '09, I was fortunate to have the use of a co-workers' cottage in the Muskokas for a week. It was wonderful. Sis and I went with the three girls and our dog and just hung out doing whatever the day presented. We did the usual swimming and sunbathing and running around at night in just our t-shirts and panties, enjoying the life of a girl. We even got caught in a torential down pour and took advantage of the liquid sunshine by shampooing our hair in the rain - that is until the thunder and lightning started and we ran screaming and laughing all the way back up to the cabin. But when you are camping, even the storms are magnificent. We all sat noses pressed up against the full length windows, candles lit, eating nachos, watching and counting the seconds in between the claps of thunder until the storms had passed.

On one of our evenings, we decided to take the girls to see a movie at the drive-in theatre, a place I hadn't been to in eons. We packed up sleeping bags and pillows and bug spray and headed out. I had pulled off the directions (from my BlackBerry) so knew it was only a short distance away. Besides, sis had been there before, so getting there was a no brainer. That was of course until about half an hour down the road and I noticed the exit sign mileage numbers getting lower when they should be getting higher. As it turned out there were two drive-ins in the area and sis was taking us to the wrong one.

Not to be ones to stress over the little things, we u-balled around and headed back in the direction from which we came, but now had to make up time by driving a tad above the speed limit. Really - just a tad.

The road we were travelling on was a four lane highway with two lanes heading in both directions separated by a cement barricade. There is an unwritten rule of the road where slower traffic is to stay in the right most lane, changing only into the left lane when necessary, example to pass or to avoid emergency vehicles that are on the shoulder. I believe the majority of drivers adhere to this quite well. On this particular night, it was no different and the traffic was moving along at a respectable rate of speed quite typical for a Sunday afternoon (however this was Friday night). Despite this we, in our little family hatchback car, had managed to stay for the most part in the left hand lane while we passed numerous vehicles giving us hope that we would arrive before dusk.

Another rule of the road is to check your mirrors before passing. Simple enough however rarely checked at the rate suggested by driving instructors. I remember being taught that my eyes should never stop moving. They should go from front, to rearview mirror to sideview mirror in a continuous fashion every 2 seconds. I fully understand in theory but seriously ... keeping my eyes moving like that constantly for any length of time would give me a headache plus it reminds me of when I was a kid and you crossed your eyes and your mom would say "If you do that long enough your eyes will stay like that". Well what if my eyes continually moved in a circular fashion? How attractive would that be? Anyway, I digress.

Just when we thought that we had made up our lost time and we had hope that we would get to see the trailers at the beginning of the show, a car suddenly changed lanes into the fast lane to pass the car in front of them. Luckily for the quick reflexes of my sis, we managed to avoid eating his rear bumper but now we were back moving at a snail's pace. The driver of the car barely increased his speed and was for the most part just blocking our path. After brakely heavily, our only recourse would be to suck it up and wait ... and wait ... and wait.

The universe in all its wisdom has a way of reminding us to take our time. It will slow down traffic by having some random driver pull in front of you or it may simply place some construction along your path. Whatever it chooses, we are not to question why. We need to embrace those moments and know this is what is meant to be.

As the seconds seemed to turn into minutes, frustration started to set in starting with the shaking of our heads, a "COME ON" and then a few choice words lip synced in an exaggerated fashion in hopes the driver could read lips through the rear view mirror. It didn't work. The car didn't move. We might as well have been in an invisibility cloak as buddy clearly couldn't see us. We practiced a few deep breathing exercises and just waited for the universe to catch up to us and show us the path. And then it happened. There it was. The sign.

I started laughing at the car. I noticed it had a computer company advertising sign on its rear window along with a phone number. What are the chances I thought, that the number would actually be the driver's cell phone and he would have it with him? So I grabbed my cell phone and started dialling. My sister asked who I was calling. I told her I'm phoning the phone number on the back of the car and I'm going to ask them to move over. I'm not sure my sister really believed me at first but that soon changed.

The phone rang and a young man answered. I could tell from the background noise that it was coming from a car so I asked him if he was driving right now. Awkward pause "Yes". I told him that was good because we were the car behind him. Eyes suddenly appeared in the rear view mirror. "Okay?" he questioned. I then politely explained we were in a bit of a hurry to get to the drive-in before it started and if he would kindly pull into the slow lane and allow us to pass we would be really grateful. Very Long Pause then the right hand indicator light started blinking and he changed lanes. As we passed, all five of us girls gave him huge smiles and a big wave of appreciation. Giggling away yet again we were off and destined to make it to the the show.

We watched the movies but for the life of me I can't recall what they were. What I remember are the oodles of dragonflies that were present and keeping the bugs away. It was beautiful. Spiritual. I remember our girls sitting outside under the stars and stuffing their faces full of drive-in popcorn. And I remember our friend on the highway that made it all possible.

A couple of things were reinforced to me that day. One, I am grateful that I live in Canada where I had no fear of a Road Rage incident and believed in the kindness of our fellow man. And two, that the Universe unfolds as it should. We just need to trust in it and believe in its signs.

Finding Love

2011-07-20T23:11:00.000-04:00

At my current age, I figure I am about half way through my earthbound life given my genes, my health and modern medicine. (I'll spare you my religious and spiritual views for another day.) By now I thought I would be planning for retirement, planning what trip to go on next, and possibly be searching for that little place on a lake where I can write my first novel. The last thing I thought I would be considering is with whom I'm going to be doing those things with.

Fact is, and we know this and still try to alter it's path, no one can really plan where the road in our life will take us. Mine seemed to detour a ways back and ended at the edge of the proverbial cliff. At the time I questioned what I was supposed to do next. Was I to take the easy way out and jump off or was I to make my way back and find another route.

Jumping off looked like it might hurt a little but at the time nothing could possibly of hurt more - except one thing - my little girl. So with her held close in my heart I had no choice but to turn back around and head off to try to figure out where it is I was supposed to go from there. Going back to where I started wasn't an option although my heart ached for that place where life was good - life was fun. Each step forward from there was going to be uncharted territory. Where's that GPS when you need it???

I've distracted myself a lot over the past 4 years with a move to another province, a new home, a promotion at work, a few holidays, renovations, etc. but let's face it - there is only so much retail therapy a person can do to fill a void of love before that too becomes mundane. Even the Silver Bullet can only go so far - despite its new attachments.

Truth is, the thought of dating again for me is really really scary. It's not the same when I was 20, 25, or for that matter 30ish. Dating back then was fun for the most part. Ya, sure, my heart got trampled a few times in my younger days but I got it figured out eventually and dating and boys and bars were all part of growing up. Good Times. Plus, back then my body rocked and I'd have no issues with lifting the shirt and flashing the boobs while yelling "they're real and they're spectacular!". But now that gravity has set in, I think they would get caught in the ribbing at the bottom of my sweater and make their presence known one at a time - and not in a graceful fashion I might add. Bad visual. Besides, what would I say now? "They're still real and not so spectacular"? I jest. Body image is just a very very small part.

There is a lot more at stake now. I have someone else to have to think of - my little girl. I don't want to be leap frogging from man to man to figure out who I am compatible with and who would be a positive male figure in my daughter's life. I don't want to be introducing a man into my life and into her life and have her perhaps get attached then maybe have her heart broken again if it doesn't work out. Fear people. Fear of the unknown. Fear of opening myself up. Fear of letting my guard down. Fear of getting hurt. Fear of actually falling in love again. It just seems easier to be single for her and for I than to put myself out there.

But then there is an even bigger picture. One day my little girl will grow up. It will happen way sooner than I want it to. She will want to spread her wings and be on her own. Despite her telling me she will live with me forever, she will move out. She will move on. She, too, will be dating and eventually falling in love. She will, no doubt, be an amazing woman as she is a child.

I have been reminded that we are not created to go this all alone and for those of the Christian faith, why Eve was created for Adam. How does one argue with God?

When I last left you, I had joined the land of on-line dating and I had thought I would be able to take you along with me on the journey and perhaps share some fun and exciting stories in the dating world. Truth is, it was painful. The few dates I did have were not noteworthy and I couldn't bring myself to making it appear exciting when it totally lacked lustre. There was yellow argyle sweater vest man with matching socks that took me to a movie (of his choice despite asking me what I would like to see) and paid for it with a free coupon. There was Mr. Salesman that called me by another woman's name during Eha chat and offered an excuse about his aunt or something lame. And there was cutey patootey army dude that got upset because my headlight was out 2 days in a row and I had empty Tim Hortons cups in my car. Dude, I recycle. (The only reason he made it to a second date was because he had a hot bod and I was secretly hoping he would get laryngitis so I didn't have to listen to him. Call me shallow.) The list goes on ... but I won't.

Even with the date disasters, I was still being asked to see them again. Not surprising. Have you seen me? Just kidding. At the end of the date, it would go something like this:

Him: Wow, I had a great time tonight. I can tell you did too.

Me: silent but thinking Really? Really? Are you talking to me? as I look over my shoulder to see if there was someone else present.

Him: I really like you. Would you like to go out again sometime?

Me: No.

Him: with a shocked look on his face Ah No???

Me: No.

Him: Oh. Ah ...

Me: running to get into my jeep like the Ikea commercial Start the car!!!.

The above is not even a slight embellishment - well maybe the running to the car, but for the most part this is how I remember it. To be honest, I was kind of proud of myself for being so truthful and not caving to the pressure of making them feel good. The date sucked. Period.

So after a few attempts, I surrendered to the fact that perhaps on-line dating is just not for me and again I am back to now what? It has been suggested to me that I now have to find places to go and put myself out there to be available. This of itself is a hard concept for me to embrace. Bars are not an option at my age but that is the only experience I have had in my younger days. Having moved, I've left behind my adult friends of 20 some years and breaking into new social circles in a small town is difficult. The friends I have been with recently are old high school friends and some have told me they think I am "too good" for any of the guys they know and wouldn't dare subject them on me. I think that is a compliment? Um, thanks???

So I got to thinking about love and how one actually "finds" it. I asked a few of my peeps "how did you find love?" And the answer each time has been "it just happened". Interesting. They weren't looking. Love just found them. How great is that?

And with that epiphany, there is no doubt in my mind I will venture into this place once again but when the time is right and when it is right for me. And when it is right for me, I will be able to let my little girl see from the beginning how wonderful love can be - how love should be - to not be afraid of the unknown - to open ones heart and embrace those that come into it.

I'm patient. I'm in no hurry. Good things come to those who wait.

Love will come knocking.

Ding Dong

"Eha Ho"

2010-12-19T12:11:00.000-05:00

Okay...let me first explain what this means.

Eha is short for Eharmony. Oh yes people. I have joined the land of On-line Dating. GASP!!! Hard to believe I know. But hey, why not. It's not like men are beating down my door nor do I put myself out there. Most of you will support me and think it is about time while I'm sure others will be mortified and feel it is some sort of betrayal. But not one of you has gone through this in their heads and their hearts and felt the Tug of War as much as I. So enough said about that. I joined. I'm a member. Moving along.

Ho is short for - well Ho. I tell ya. Joining one of these sights you feel exactly like that. You answer a gazillion questions and then try to sum up in so many words why you think you are a great catch for some anonymous man out there. Then it spits back a profile at you and provides you your strengths and weaknesses then BAM!!! the next day you get a list of men to sift through that could quite possibly be "the one" based on what you have entered. That's some scary stuff. It's like standing on the street corner of your local red light district from the comfort of your own home but without the drive by stares and cat calls (not that I would know - just sayin' lol).

So there you have it. I'm an "Eha Ho". Well not exactly. I haven't actually gone on a date yet but I thought I'd give this a go and share with you the journey and see if it is really all that it says it is. I will of course change the names of the not-so-innocent as I don't anticipate that I will be swept off my feet the first go 'round. Call me a skeptic, or as I like to describe myself on my Eha profile, a realist.

I wonder if this is even fair to my would-be suitor. Man, is he gonna be pissed at me when he reads this eventually lol. But if he is the right one, he shouldn't be right? He should just "get me" and my sense of humour. And according to this site, there should be plenty of fish in the Eha sea. But let's get this straight right of way too - I am not on one of those cheese ball get laid sites, I'm actually paying for this so will approach it with total sincerity. (And now haven written that, does that mean if I am paying for it, and I do get me a little somethin' somethin', would that be considered a form of "solicitation" and would Eharmony be my Pimp Daddy??? Oh dear. This is getting complicated already!!!)

Wish me Luck!!!

Enjoying Summer

2010-08-13T21:27:00.003-04:00

It has been a while since I last blogged. Since the beginning of the New Year I took a temporary transfer within my job which lasted until the beginning of July. From July until now, I have been on holidays and enjoying being a stay at home mom. In 10 days my holidays will be over and I will be back to work at my regular position.

The job transfer was an amazing experience. My position involved many different elements including the writing of numerous documents. I worked 24/7 and 16 to 20 hour days for the latter part of the assignment. It was high pressure and gave me a perspective into myself which I would have never seen. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to be involved in a once-in-a-lifetime event.

The downside to working such an assignment was the time taken away from my daughter. Even when I was present, I was not. Sure I still managed to do my domestic duties like dinner and laundry and help with homework but the garden got neglected, housekeeping was not a priority and spending time with my daughter was deferred to my mom when I had to go out of town. I would come home, laptop in tow, and plug in again within moments in the door. My daughter understood as much as a 10 year old could but when I have been the only parental figure for the past few years the void was difficult. Swearing I would make it up to her, I took five weeks holidays this summer just to hang with her.

We haven't done much of anything really but that is okay. We are together and that is all she wants. Lucky me. Considering the weather we have been blessed with this summer, having a staycation is perfect. This week though my daughter has become a permanent fixture in a chair we have named "Big Red" recuperating from tonsil surgery. Family Channel has pretty much been on all day with a two hour break yesterday so we could watch the So You Think You Can Dance finale. Today, while my daughter sits in silence saving her voice to avoid pain, I thought I would take the opportunity to blog. (I'm secretly hoping this will rid my brain of the song "It's On" from Camp Rock 2 which has been looping in my head since last night.)

Today, I think I will share with you a couple of funny moments I have had with my daughter on our time off together over the past few weeks. She has a great sense of humour whether she knows it or not.

Farting

I know, not the best of topics but many a laugh has been generated from that of a fart. Throughout my years my view of this natural bodily function has changed. When I was a young girl, I thought it was funny. I remember my dad having quite loud and lengthy farts. My dad would make faces and laugh. My mom would shake her head or "Oh Alec" in disgust. When boys entered my life, farting is something you absolutely did not do. You squeezed your butt cheeks together as best you could and should there be an escape of any kind you would walk swiftly across to the other side of the room in hopes any odour would dissipate en route.  Boys, on the other hand, enjoyed pointing fingers at others when it was them that "dropped the bomb". Somehow it was okay for them and enjoyed competitions for loudness and length. (Who knew there could be such a double standard on farting?) When I was involved in serious relationships it seemed farting was allowed but only in private, again, unless you were a guy. Motherhood, however, has brought it back full circle where I am finding it funny again. Kids have a way of doing that with their innocence but what I heard next from my daughter seemed way beyond her years or mine for that matter.

My daughter and I are as close as I could ever hope to be. I am open and honest with her and when a question is asked, I answer quite matter of fact. Regardless of the question, I try not to act shocked although I have sometimes felt like a premature hot flash was coming over me.  I'm not sure if this is the best approach. It is the first time I've been a mother after all but it seems to be working for us so far.

A few weeks ago we were both in the kitchen. I was sitting at the counter enjoying a cup of java and my daughter was washing breakfast dishes in the sink across from me. Very nonchalantly she shares with me the other day she had a fart from her vagina. Good Lord. Trying to stop the coffee from squirting out my nose, I simply said "Is that right?". "Ya" she says and continues on to explain how she was a little surprised at first but she knew right away that it came from her vagina and not from her butt because there was no smell. I wanted to fall off my chair laughing but thought I'd just keep the dialogue going and asked her what she was doing for her to experience this (afraid of the answer as my brain had visions of pole dancers and ping pong balls). She told me she was at gymnastics and doing leg lift stretches. When she would raise her leg her vagina would fart.  I said I could understand how that would happen which then begged the question from her "how?" and with that, I explained kegel exercises to my 10 year old.

After this discussion, we decided to rename the Vagina Fart and have elected to call them Varts for short. It isn't yet in Webster's but feel free to use it should the opportunity present itself.

Beach Bum

My parents live in Wasaga Beach. Wasaga Beach has a large fresh water beach that extends for miles and miles. Rumour has it that it is the largest fresh water beach in Canada if not the world. The water is warm and shallow because of sand bar after sand bar.  The sand itself is perfect for castles and burying playmates. The beach front is divided into areas suitable for families or partyers. The area is clean. The shops are plentiful and there is always someone strutting around in a Speedo to laugh at.

Ever since my daughter was a year old, I have pictures of her sitting in the sand. It never grows old for her. She will get herself wet then run out of the water and sit in the sand. She loads up the sand on her thighs, knees and calves. She will continue up her torso and if she has help will get all muddied up to her neck. Sometimes she will dig a hole waist deep to jump into and fill it back in until it requires a constant rocking back and forth to escape or the sympathy of a playmate to dislodge.

Last week I took my daughter and her friend to the beach.  We chose to go to the quieter family beach to get away from the crowds and where we could get more than just a beach towel size piece of sand to sit at. Some days the water is calm but on others the wind comes in from across the lake causing a tide effect where waves crash into the sand bars as they roll into shore.  On this day the wind was up and the waves were abundant. My mom and I set up our spot, reclined in the lawn chairs and got ready to bask in the sun. The girls stripped out of their shorts and T's revealing their bathing suits then raced into the water shrieking as the waves hit them upon their entry.  Such a great sound.

About an hour or so of jumping and diving into the waves, the girls came in for a snack and another spray of sunscreen. Like every year in the past, my daughter sat in the sand and started burying herself.  Her girlfriend showed a bit of reluctance in joining in at first worried that the sand would ruin her new bikini. Within a few minutes the sand beckoned to her and she plopped down and began covering her legs as well.

This year, however, had a new flavour.  My mom and I were engaged in conversation about this and that. My daughter started laughing rather mischievously which made me turn to see what she was up to. My daughter, instead of putting sand onto her body decided to stuff it down the front of her bikini bottoms.  Not only was she stuffing the sand, she was packing it and molding it into the shape of a well-endowed male while stating "How can they even sit with one of these things?".  When she stood, the sand that had stuck to her abdomen from the sunscreen gave the illusion she had six-pack abs.  To further the visual, her bottoms were white and black zebra stripes so with the new packaging, from the top down she looked like a cheesy porn star. (I took full advantage of the moment and as she stood, posing from the side, pointing at her junk, I decided to be the best mom ever and grabbed my camera and snapped a quick photo.)

As quick as the moment came, it was gone when she declared she had sand in her vagina and headed back into the water to rid herself of her manliness.  My mom and I watched the girls jump and dive once again and just when I thought she was finished with her comedy routine, she stood waist deep in the water and swung her bottoms over her head wootwooting. The bottoms then became a bathing cap and she did the dolphin dive into the waves to moon us. A true Beach Bum.

I am blessed. What a child. I can hardly wait for the next thing.

From Watch to Crotch!

2009-12-31T14:00:00.010-05:00

Despite being told a gazillion times as a kid, not to talk to strangers, we cannot help ourselves. Perhaps it is not quite the look that makes a person strange, but actually what comes out of their mouths. If this is the case, I need to wear a warning button that says "I'm a Stranger". Knowing me, it would be some type of homing beacon and instead of stopping persons from talking to me, it would do the opposite. I may just conduct some type of experiment though and see what happens!

So about a year and a bit ago I took a journey to Vegas by myself. But Vegas is not where this story is heading because we all know "What happens in Vegas...Stays in Vegas". It was actually the return trip that landed me this experience, featuring me - The Stranger.

On my flight back, I had to get a connector which included a 2 hour layover. Walking a fair distance from gate to gate, I noticed I was walking parallel with another guy who also had Vegas tags on his luggage. (Yes, I do actually notice things like that lol!) He must have noticed the same thing (or perhaps it was just my hottie hotness) because conversation ensued with a cheesy one liner "Going My Way?". We soon learned we were not actually heading to the same final end destination as I was heading on to Van and he to Calgary. To fill in the time between flights, I was invited to some Executive Club he belonged to at the airport for a drink and some appies. As neither one of us was appearing strange to each other so far, I thought what the hey.

So up we went to this "Members Only" lounge. This was definitely how it should be in between layovers: big comfy chairs, buffet spread, open bar, big screen TVs, soft music. Very Cool. But it was such a weird feeling. It felt like a date that I wasn't really on and with zero expectation. Neither one of us had to worry about making a good first impression because it really didn't matter. It was 2 hours. That's it. That's all.

Through all our small talk, I think I learned a lot more about him, than he about me. Must be my skilled interviewing techniques coupled with my not giving up any personal information paranoia. But then...the conversation turned. One question to me and I was on a roll. He just simply asked me about the watch I was wearing and if I picked it up in Vegas. It's nothing extraordinary, your basic silver bracelet type with the "Betty Boop" character on it. But the story that came along with it, literally left him squirming in his seat. I'm sure to this day he is wishing he never went there.

This is what I told him...

(Laughing) Ya, I picked it up at one of those kiosk places just for fun. It really has nothing much to do about the character of Betty Boop. It is just all about the Betty.

Now judging from his facial expression of utter confusion, I felt the need to keep on talking.

Well a few months back, I was puttering around at home, with the TV on for company. There was some show on in the background on women entrepreneurs. The guest was talking about how she founded some product for women. She had said she had been in Europe at a hair salon and had noticed that as other women were leaving, they were being given something extra on their way out the door in a little bag. Being curious, she inquired with the salon stylist what it was and was told it was extra hair dye for the women to use at home. Thinking it was for root touch ups, her further questions to the stylist taught her it was extra dye for the women to take home so the carpet could match the drapes. (You know...so their head hair could match "the hair down there".) Gasp. The stylist explained to her a lot of women as they age turn grey and they also turn grey "down there". Women being such vain creatures, like to look younger in both areas. How novel. And here I thought that's what razors are for haha - not that I am grey so let's get that straight lol.

A thrown in wink wink nudge nudge and airport buddy was enjoying the story. After all, here I am now talking about women's parts! Easy bait.

So continuing on, the woman after learning all this in Europe, comes back to the States and explores this further. She comes up with dyes using rosemary, comfrey, elder flower, cherry bark, aloe etc. but with pubic hair being coarse and wirey, ew, she had to find similar hair to test her dye on. Low and behold she finds out that the animal hair of a Yak is the closest and as luck would have it, there just happened to be a Yak farm on the outskirts of the city. Seriously!! (I don't know about you, but just saying the word Yak, makes me want to, well, Yak.) So after testing on the Yak hair, consulting with Va Jay Jay doctors and skin specialists, she did it! She came up with an environmentally safe product not tested on animals that colours the pubes and will not irritate the sensitive skin in the area. And because men seem to always have a name for their peni (lol is that plural for penis?), she named it "Betty" and developed the phrase "Is your Betty Ready?". BUT she didn't just stop there. She has a whole colour line... Black Betty (singing out loud Bam a lam), Blond Betty (so those wannabees can look more natural), Auburn Betty, and Brown Betty. She even has some funky wild colours, Fun Betty (hot pink), Sexy Betty (purple) and Lucky Betty (green). Cool eh?

So I'm telling this dude the story and how watching it made me laugh and really want to try it out for shits and giggles and was even thinking of having a Betty Party with some girlfriends. Tupperware is so last year. And then I say to him, "Can you just imagine...you are making out with a woman, and you go down on her and voila, she is hot pink down there! What would you think? Being a guy, do you think that would be fun? Do you think men would find that stimulating?"

Oh Dear! Back up the train! Am I for real? What have I done? Am I seriously having this conversation? Thinking I have some iota of how a man brain works, did I unintentionally first plant some kind of porn seed that me and a bunch of girlfriends were going to be having some kind of fashion party where we would be all dying our whowho's and strutting a rainbow of muffins AND did I just ask this guy a question by asking him to "visualize" having oral sex with a hot pink beaver and then ask him if he thinks he would enjoy it?

So I'm looking at him, giving my brain a chance to catch up to my mouth, wishing to the heavens, that he answers with something intellectual like "Nacho?" to shut me up, but no, he is speechless. He's sitting there, kind of twitching in his seat, doing the leg cross, uncross fidget thing, pulling at the knees of his jeans, making extra room in his crotch and I realize, OMG! All this Betty talk had given him a hard on! No wonder he can't talk. He has lost all blood flow from his brain!!

Think Wendy, think! Only one thing to do...looking at my Betty watch, I say "Oh my look at the time! I should get to my gate." Hoping he wouldn't stand up (and he didn't), I thanked him for the LAYover and left for my plane.

Once I got on my plane and I had time to digest what had just happened, I started giggling wondering if Betty came in blue to match the balls I just left him with. (BTW it does, it is called Malibu Betty.)

For those of you wondering...although those that know me well already know the answer...yes, my Betty Is Ready!!!

And for those of you who dare to have a colourful 2010, you can get it at most Chatter Hair Salons or through the Betty website at www.bettybeauty.com. And they have it for men too!

I definitely need one of those warning buttons, don't I? lol

Wishing you a wonderful and prosperous New Year filled with much love and laughter.

xo xo,

W.

Journey On ...

2009-12-05T11:19:00.000-05:00

A bit of a preamble before I continue ...

I heard once that to truly give a meaningful hug, it would take a full 6 second embrace. 6 seconds is a really long time if you actually count it out. But when a hug is given from the heart, and once you get past your own "space" issues, those hugs feel so damn fine and are good for the soul.

To think that so many of you actually took the time out of your day to read my stuff and then make more time to offer such positive and encouraging feedback, is humbling. I am in awe. From Deep in my heart ... I thank you ... A full 6 seconds worth. xox

***********************************

You say it's your birthday
Well it's my birthday too, yeah
You say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you.

~The Beatles~

Today arrived with a dusting of snow and crisp cool Canadian air. What a perfect gift.

Yes. It's here. Another Birthday. Another year older. Another day to "assess my sitch" by going over the past year in my head and asking myself do I like who I am, where I am, what I am doing and know where it is I want to go from here.

I think first of all, I'm officially going to start counting my birthday years backwards. Not in the Benjamin Buttons kind of way, just in numbers. By my calculations, the Sis and I will then hit the same age in 4 years, which is so very cool because we are planning to celebrate our milestone by traveling Europe for about a month. "The Big 4-0" together. Woot! Woot! And by further calculating my age regression should put me about infant to toddler age, back in diapers with just a few teeth, relatively about the same time I would be more than likely be in diapers and toothless anyway. So really...what's the big deal?

Well, my day began with the Brother calling me up to wish me a Happy Birthday. Well I think that was his intention anyway but not sure if those words actually came out of his mouth. Our conversation went pretty much like this:

Me: "Hello"

Bro: "Hey what's shakin'?"
Me: "My left and my right".
Laughter
Bro: "Up and down or side to side?"
Me: "Well once they get started they kinda go in a figure eight".
More laughter

Sounds pretty normal for my family. Don't all siblings discuss boobs as part of routine shootin' of the shit?

So speaking of boobs. Do any of you remember the pencil thing? You place the No.2 pencil under your boob and if it fell then you had perfect perky TaTa's but if it remained stuck under the over, then Valley Girl "Oh ma Gawd" you were getting so sa-a-gy! I'm sure this really isn't the picture you want of me, but hey, between you and I, I'm about a 64 pack of Laurentian pencil crayons with room for a few Crayola crayons to boot- the big thick kid size ones. And don't you dare get me started on my ass LOL ... Is this what they are calling "Aging Gracefully"? I wonder if Isaac Newton had never sat under that apple tree and got bonked on the head, making him ponder why that apple was attracted to the ground in the first place, would gravity have ever been discovered? Why couldn't he have just said "Hey, Thanks tree!" and ate the damn apple and be done with it? This thought just makes me want to clench my fist and hold it near my chin while making that little rabbit teeth face and say ... Newton!! just like Jerry Seinfeld did when the character Newman did something sneaky.

But seriously. I love the age I am, the experiences that I have had, and the lessons I have been taught and actually managed to learn (although sometimes needing remedial classes). It's like I finally get it. And that my friends Rocks! The most freeing thing I have come to realize, is the Universe unfolds as it should and no matter how hard I can try, I cannot control it. By surrendering, embracing and changing my brain, I am my own "happy place".

And on the days that I just can't buy into my own crap? ... Well hey ... that's what red wine is for! Preferably Shiraz ... Lindemans' Bin 50. LOL

And to get back to the beginning of this blog and answer my own questions...yes, yes, yes and wherever I am, whatever I am doing, is the path I am meant to take.

I welcome my next year, come what may.

Journey On...

What's in the Box?

2009-12-02T14:55:00.011-05:00

There could be a 100 people on the street but if one of them was looking for directions, it would be me they would pick. People literally make a bee-line for me to ask me stuff. I have no idea why that is - some say I just have that friendly approachable safe kind of look about me - but I say "WHY ME?" while looking up at the sky with a clenched fist. I usually tell my sister the crazy stuff that happens and she is like WTF, someone really asked you that, or talked to you about that... and the answer is seriously yes.

Sort of like "What's in the Box?". And here is where I shall begin...

(This here paragraph should really be a footnote but I'm not sure how to do those on a blog so consider this like the warning at the beginning of a TV show. I kind of have this unwritten rule that you should always know your audience prior to speaking. But in this case, I am my only audience at this time. HaHa. But if at any time you find this offensive, just remember I had no idea you were going to be reading it at the time this was written. LOL)

So here goes...

About 2 and half years ago, my husband passed away after a courageous year long battle with Cancer. It was terrible, sad, crazy, unfair, you name it. It was everything you can imagine and then some. When my husband passed away, we had been visiting my family in another Province than where we lived. My husband had wanted to go to Vegas and marry me all over again, but we decided on a shorter journey and stayed in Canada where our medical system is top notch.

Although there are a gizillion downsides to loosing a spouse, loosing someone somewhere other than where you live further complicates things because you are forced to deal with "details" sooner than later. By this I mean, transporting them, cremating them, extra luggage on the plane. Just things that you would like to do another day, but can't.

The one detail that I did not have to think about was cremation. We had a Will so the decision had been pre-made. (Hint Hint for those who do not have one.) This however leads to another detail to work out - how you transport your loved one home? For me, there was no other thought than to take him with me as my carry on luggage. But then there are airline regulations etc. that have to be adhered to, and one of those is that the container that holds the remains, has to be a plain box, unmarked, so as not to freak out the other passengers. Who knew? Better yet, who wanted to ever know that? Ya, not me either.

But anyway, here I am, boarding the plane, with my plain cardboard box, holding my husband, eyes damn near swollen shut from crying for days, only to realize he is not going to fit under the seat and cramming him under was not an option. Again, more airline regulations and I was promptly told if the box could not fit under the seat, I had to put the box somewhere else. If it weren't for my husband being IN the box, I'm sure I would have told her what she could do with it but ... thank goodness for my sister. She quickly and with the utmost discretion and consideration for me, my little girl and the other passengers, explained our circumstances. The airline hostess was so kind and compassionate, and offered to take my husband up to the front and put him in her compartment where he would be safe and secure. Pretty nice eh? I was so grateful.

Well the flight was great...I think...well actually I really can't remember a thing about it until we landed and I went to retrieve my husband. I had waited in my seat so I could be the last to get off so as not to get in the way of other passengers. When I got up and went to the front of the plane with the hostess, who comes out of the cockpit? The pilot with a big shit ass grin on his face. Right away he picks me to talk to and starts asking me "What's in the Box? Is it a present? Is it for me?" I was stunned. My sister's jaw was on the ground and the poor hostess was completely horrified. She was trying to get his attention by running her finger across her neck to get him to cut it out. Obviously not cluing in to subtle female gestures, he kept on smiling, waiting for an answer but I just politely smiled, nervously chuckled then collected my husband and left the plane. And here I am thinking, who does that? Who ever asks such a thing to a perfect stranger?

But our day was only half done. We had yet another plane to board before we got home. While we were waiting, sis and I had a good giggle and felt terrible for that poor pilot who probably got an ear full from the hostess after we left. But mainly we thought of my husband who was able to find humour in the strangest of places. I was sure he was just setting me up and was probably laughing his ass off at the pilot for being such a clown. LOL

As the journey continued and we went through the same type of thing with the next airline and again the hostess was an absolute sweetheart. And again, I waited at the end and made SURE I was the last one off the plane this time, still slightly traumatized by the pilot. But could I get that lucky? Oh No! Not I.

So picture this... Here I am walking on the tarmac toward my husbands awaiting family, carrying him in my arms, trying to prepare myself for the stream of emotion that is sure to hit me as soon as I get through the door. Suddenly, this man starts running up behind me, big smile on his face wanting to talk to me. And what does he say? Yes, no kidding, he asks me "What ya got in the box?" Seriously! I swear I thought I was loosing my mind. First off, where the f**k did he come from? Slightly dazed and confused, I said "pardon me", being sure I must of heard him wrong but no! he repeated it, not wavering, and still smiling. So I looked at him and answered him honestly. "My husband". His face turned grey, "Did you just say your husband?" and I nodded. Can you imagine? That poor man. But afterward I learned my family thought it was a friend of mine because they had seen us talking (obviously not knowing what about HaHa) and I guess he apparently felt so horrible, he made his wife get his luggage and made a point of sticking around until I was finished hugging my own family, just to apologize and offer his condolences to me. Apparently I gave him a huge hug. :) I hope I made him feel better. LOL

But you know, since that time, I have heard strangers in line, people at work and yes even the kids at home say, "What's in the Box?" like everyone has this right to know. Nosey creatures! And although I have to laugh every time, you'll never catch me saying it because really...I don't want to know. What about you?

And remember before, when I was telling you about the great sense of humour my husband had? Well with no word of a lie, shortly after his death, I was getting something out of a closet and found this little cardboard box that was from his work. Written on the side of it in marker were the words "Hey Ed, what ya got in the box?" ;)