Wednesday, June 27, 2012

The First Sign of Addiction is Denial. Who's in Denial?

As you all know, and I readily admit, I am a social media junkie. I could easily stand up at a meeting and say “Hello, my name is Rhondi, I am a Crackberry addict, and it’s been an entire week since my last Facebook update.” I can hear the applause now!

Seriously, this morning I was walking to work, when a builder pulled up alongside me. He rolled down the passenger window and hollered; “headphones in, head down and texting, I should fine you for distracted walking!" All I could do was laugh and acknowledge the reality of the situation at hand, “BUSTED” I yelled.

As I continued on the home stretch to the office, his comment sounded like a bit of a reality check. So I decided make a list (go figure) of my so called 'indulgences'.

I Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and let’s not forget my beloved blog.  I chat; BBM, MMS/SMS, Yahoo, MSN, WhatApp and Facebook takes the lead with a second nod. So I am sure you’re wondering if I have an e-mail account? Let’s see, work (x’s 2), Yahoo (x’s 2), Hotmail, Gmail and Cogeco.  Holy Doodle, could I really be addicted?

It’s a hard question to ask oneself, but I did, and here is my answer: “the first sign of addiction is denial”. Keeping with that premise, “I know I’m a social media junkie; therefore I am not in denial, so therefore I’m not a social media junkie!” Pretty self-explanatory if I do say so myself.

Honestly, I know there have been times I thought maybe getting a little excessive. Last summer was pretty bad. (Pleased to report that Saturday of last Labour Day long weekend was quiet. May have been because I couldn’t find my phone.)

Hectic fall, but forgot my phone at home a couple of days in January so that was significant. I also really tried to minimize my usage in Jamaica, so for the first few days I never took my phone to the beach. As a result, my roaming for the week was only $354.72. Way to go me...

I guess with the kids gone, my Crackberry has become an extension of me. Yesterday, I was sitting in a golf cart waiting to tee off, when I began to respond to a BBM message from Smartie, who was sitting at YYZ waiting to head back to Whitehorse.  Paying no mind to the amazing company I was keeping he said “Geez, can you type any faster?”

My response? ”What the hell !?! Just because your piece of crap iPhone doesn’t make a cool clicking sound when you type is not my problem!” There you have it. Not my fault I have fast thumbs combined with razor sharp wit. 

All Inclusive trip to Negril, Jamaica     $6,000
Spa Treatment on the beach                 $350
Snorkelling and a trip to Rick’s CafĂ©     $150
The ability to upload photos and update my Facebook status from anywhere? PRICELESS!

Monday, June 25, 2012

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...

As promised, I took advantage of my Chiropractor working Saturday and as an added bonus, I got to witness my son David in action at the restaurant he's working at in downtown Toronto called  Actinolite.

David and I try and get together at least once a month. That said, I know since our last visit he's been struggling  with the very long hours and lack of sleep, so I worry. Not going to lie, the first thing I noticed? As suspected, he’s underweight (almost gaunt) and he looked exhausted.

We were very excited to see each other. He gave me several great big hugs, called me Mommy (which will never gets old), and he introduced me to his team as "Big Hair Mama Bear" which is par for the course.

The difference this visit was how there was no subtle change only evident maturity. After sharing his desire to work in Italy, he kept his composure as he quietly whispered in my ear, “it's okay mommy, please stop crying”, that's when it hit me. He's become a man, a good man.

As I headed home, I confided in a friend that my heart was heavy and my eyes were damp. I was explaining how seeing David makes me miss him even more. In turn, he sent me this picture of a loon mother and her chick that he’d taken at his cottage on Georgian Bay last summer. 

His photo was accompanied by the following note. “Taken early one morning I thought of you and David.” His next comment was what truly struck home.

“It’s perfect as that it was taken a year ago” he continued. “By now, that loon chick has long left the side of his mother but will always know how to find her when he needs her.”

My eyes filled with tears as I typed my heartfelt and instant response of thank you… His photo and his very well chosen words put my weekend into proper perspective,  which is that I am a very lucky lady.

(Here's a link for the restaurant where David works as reviewed in Toronto Life Magazine.) 

Monday, June 18, 2012

Wash Rinse Repeat. Wash Rinse Repeat. Wash Rinse Repeat.

Crazy as it sounds, some weeks I feel like every day is Groundhog Day. You know, wash, rinse, repeat? I work every weekend. Though I am not expected to work every Saturday, I usually do. 

It's a tough reality to admit that my life peaks at boring. Heck, a trip to the Chiropractic office is like a day at the circus for me!  (Downside?... My Chiropractor doesn’t work on Saturday. Ba-dumm-bump!!)

I'm only questioning the whole 'Groundhog Day' scenario because last Saturday was the same but different for me, and I think there may be hope.

Up at my regular time, I decided to “make hay” while the caffeine in my system was doing its thing. Completed my chores and carefully watched the clock so that I could shower and head into work. As I crossed the items off my "list of things to do" I could feel myself decompressing.

As my morning list shortened, my afternoon list grew. Dogs needed new matching collars (pet store), golf balls were on sale (Canadian Tire), my toe nails needed painting (and most importantly) the sun needed worshiping. Hence, I skipped going to the office.

Sunday was a perfect day as well. Had my one cup of coffee on the front deck, mowed the lawn before ten and spent the day outside. After a nice supper, I fell asleep watching the final round of the US Open.

Knowing my "work list of things to do" was longer than a one armed paper hanger, I showed up for work this morning at 7am. First words uttered were not "how was your weekend" but “I expected to see you Saturday”. 

Glass half full? This afternoon I got an email from my Chiropractor's office. Seems he’s working Saturday’s starting next weekend.

Guess what? I've had a Bill Murray breakthrough. I won't be working next Saturday either!

Saturday, June 16, 2012

“Don’t Cry Because It’s Over, Smile Because It Happened” Dr. Seuss.

It’s a week today since my dogs disappeared and all week I have been struggling to come to terms with what happened. I’ve tried and tried to put something into writing about my beloved Daisy but my thought process keeps racing back to how she was killed rather than the joy she brought everyone around her.

She spent her life on a ten foot lead, and loved it. Go figure!

She arrived to us with the name Daisy but as her solid canine understanding of North American dining terms grew (treat, lunch, toast) so did her girth. Quite quickly her stature became more rotund, and she endearingly became known to those closest to her as “Chubbs”. “Chubbs McGubb” to be exact.

Chubbs was the perfect pet. I did a lot of reading once she arrived home. The most important thing I discovered was that beagles are extremely sensitive. If you never strike your beagle, they in turn become fiercely loyal. Never once did I raise a hand to her and our bond with each other was indescribable. 

I am the first one to put up my hand and admit that this last year for me has been difficult to say the least. When the snow left, I knew that I had found my way and I would A-OK, now this.  As silly as it sounds, I feel like I am mourning the loss of a child.

Right or wrong, I did get another dog this week. She’s an 8 week old and a purebred yellow lab and I have named her Dee in memory of Daisy. She’s crazy uncoordinated, has teeth like razor blades and is driving Dottie absolutely bonkers!!!

Last night, in an effort to contain this “hell on wheels” infant, I dug out Daisy’s baby gate from the garage. Gate in hand, I exited the garage just in time to find her tugging on my golf towel, and knocking over my brand new golf clubs.

It appears I have another baby on my hands. Wish me luck… I’m gonna need it!

Thursday, June 7, 2012

The Twins Are Twenty? How Can That Be? I'm Only Twenty-Nine!

Where does the time go? Honestly, this week I have stopped many times to wonder. 

I'm healthy, happy, active, and I don’t feel like a middle aged woman. Lord knows I don’t act like one either but all week I have been asking myself; “How did I get to the point in my life when part of it feels like it's already a blur?”

My youngest children, Staci and David celebrated their 20th birthday this week. Twenty!

It's like it was yesterday the ultra-sound technician announced; “Oh my Mrs. Peacock, you are going to have a multiple birth” to which I immediately burst into tears.

I’d love to type that they were tears of joy but they were tears admitting “I’m not a strong enough woman to have three children in diapers.” Turns out I was.

Growing up, neither my husband nor I ever really had "birthday parties", so the celebration of birthdays in our family home was always an excuse for great fun. 

Jamie was born in February, so we’d rent the ice surface or the pool at the Centennial Centre, and later on head to the slopes for snowboarding.

Staci and David, as June babies, always had outdoor parties. Thirty kids at Williams Park with water balloons, Santa’s Village, even the cottage jammed full of kids (boys downstairs, girls upstairs) piled three high. With the twins, one party was always easier. One day, two births, one celebration. (Some years they hated each other at the time, which presented challenges, but for the most part they were a success.)

The 20th birthday just celebrated is representative of change in many ways. For the first time in their lives they didn’t celebrate it together and for the first time ever we didn’t celebrate as a family. No cake, no balloons and I gave them the gift that just keeps giving, CASH!

Funny, when we left David in downtown Toronto last September, I remember he said to me “Mom you keep joking that you’re getting a one bedroom apartment with no pull out sofa... but you're going to miss us”. I laughed at the time but my boy's wise.

I’d give anything to be pushing my double stroller again, waving at the Glaziers as we passed. Two toddlers in the seats and Jamie standing on the back. Our dog Sammy's leash, strapped to the side, and a diaper bag over my back. We’d be heading to town.

Putting everything into perspective, I made Wonder Woman look like a wimp!

Perhaps that is why I have seen such success. To this day, I do what it takes, whatever it takes, to get it done and 'Get It Done' right!  David and Staci are both the same way, and I know they will see great success in life.

That’s not Mom talking, that the reality of whom they are as young adults.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Today's Post is Brought To You By The Number Three!

They say everything comes in threes. Today, for the first time in forever, I enjoyed a really great 'set of threes'.

I produced the first quarter sales figures (amazing), I enjoyed an ice cream cone at work (sinful), and out of the blue, I had a really great conversation with a true friend (WOOT) !!

Like I said; great set of threes. The first two are self explanatory but the third honestly caught me by surprise.

Yesterday reminded me that the voice of a true friend has a comfortable rhythm. A specific tone, that is unconditional. It comes right from your heart, and once you find that level of comfort, I believe it stays with the friendship for a lifetime.

Mac and I started working together in 1994. We started with our new employer one week apart and became instant friends.

Our friendship led to “couples friends”, which led to the guys playing on the same ball team, not to mention dinner parties and lots of golf. Holy doodle that seems like a million years ago !!

Just like “Smartie” and “Twos”, my friendship with “Mac” got lost in the day to day shuffle called Life. Today has proven that everything is definitely aligning.

One: I'm giddy thinking that Brian is flying into YYZ in two weeks from Whitehorse. Two: Ecstatic that Tim's baby girl has his heart (we're going to Nashville to meet her)! Three? Jamie and I promised to find the time to golf together sooner than later.

Yup, my new favorite number is three. Except when it comes the proverbial three putt. Oh, and three strikes you're out!

Sunday, June 3, 2012

I'M BUSY NOW... Can I Ignore You Some Other Time?

I am pleased to announce that after a 70 hour work week, I am sitting in my home office, enjoying my "only day off ” cup of coffee. It’s raining outside, not to mention dreary, but the fact that I had a great night sleep makes my mood better than normal under the circumstance.

I had a crazy busy week. I had planned to head into the city last night (nice dinner with friends, see David for breakfast this morning) but it wasn't meant to be. Instead, I was summoned to the office, for a 'quick' Saturday morning meeting.

True to form, I had clients unexpectedly drive from Toronto to meet me and it was 2pm before I could say; “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to work every Saturday!?!” 

Actually, I didn’t say that. I just screamed it out loud as I left the parking lot. Okay, so I didn’t scream it aloud. I just typed it firmly now, which to me, is equally satisfying!

It makes me worry that friends, the cottage,  not to mentioned small details like my eyebrows have gone neglected . Holy cow they look awful! (Note to self – get eyebrows waxed Monday lunch...)  As I constantly  struggle to find time to schedule everything in that I want to accomplish, I can’t help but notice how much I’ve changed. 

To quote Popeye “I yam what I yam, and that's all that I yam.” I’ve always been direct and comfortable communicating with others. That’s said, 10-12 years ago, protective wife & mother of three children, at times my words could be as sharp as a razor blade, that cut you so quickly, you were bleeding out before you knew it.

The last five or six of years, I have learned to walk away and be more matter a fact about my emotions and how to express them.  Which is code for “I may not be as big a bitch as I use to be, but I know what I want, and if I don’t see it, or it doesn’t feel right, I’m gonna let you know”.

My message nowadays is delivered in a more peaceful tone, and without drawing blood. Truthfully, at this point in my life; I'll tend to ignore you, offering you zero energy, positive or negative, and move on.

I’m not sure why I have the audacity to have the confidence I do. I just have it. I am me and completely fine with me. I’m outgoing, loyal, and I love to laugh. For all the positive energy I exude, I know that I can also be quite critical and stubborn. As gasps of disbelief reach for miles and miles, both are traits I willingly admit.

YUP, I am the first to admit that I have my mother’s stubborn streak (which I intend on getting surgically removed at the end of the year). I hope it doesn’t hurt!

Friday, June 1, 2012

Warm Fire (check), Fuzzy Socks (check), Snoring Beagle (check check)

Today was a rainy and very dreary day. For lack of a better description, it was a “painful rain” kind of day. Not the whole, 'my heart is bleeding, dog died in its sleep, Pride & Prejudice painful rain'  but the annoying type of precipitation that falls in the median between rain and snow. 

Tonight was the first Friday night in forever Staci didn’t venture home and I am missing her (seems Daisy and Dot were looking for her too). I made a fire, because you’re never alone sitting in front of a warm fire, and proceeded to decide what I would have for dinner.

After much debate, I had our Chef prepare Staci’s favorite dish and I quietly dined alone. I must admit, he's never let either of us down. I don’t care what people think, I spare no expense when it comes to fine dining. Toast, warm toast, is the key to his main course culinary offering. Chef Boyardee is my guy!

Yes, fine dining is a must, and so is my Friday night eveningwear.

No makeup, hair up, really ugly bathrobe and my must have fuzzy socks. When you’re a high maintenance gal like me, nothing feels better than arriving home and decompressing. The uglier the clothes, the more content I feel, and that’s the God’s honest truth.

Home alone, in front of a warm fire, beagle snoring (wearing a boxer/mix blanket), I am personally embracing the gift of a perfectly ordinary day.

"...All of the flowers bloom in there own time"  says her 85yr old grandmother. Please enjoy Katrina Kenison reading from her book The Gift of an Ordinary Day. Very personal and moving. Enjoy!