Thursday, November 28, 2019


"Go to Mazatlan" they said. "You'll love it there!"

As most of you know, as common sense travelers, Mexico has always been a destination that we've been very comfortable with. The people and their culture's amazing and I love the fact that the Canadian dollar works in our favour; cutting Donald Trump out of said travel equation.

Because we travel as much as we do, we've always tried to alternate the choice of where we travel equally. The funny thing about Mazatlan is, it's been my husbands pick for a little over three years. The reason for our delay's that I always managed to convince him it really wasn't where he wanted to travel!

This time around, flight times, pricing, and every other item I could always combat against couldn't compare, leaving no practical reason not to officially get this particular stamp in my passport.`

What a difference 24 hours makes!

TAKEN: NOVEMBER 27th & 28th, 2019

That said, this adventure had me apprehensive from the start. Even boarding our flight in Toronto this past Tuesday morn, I disclosed that I had a bad feeling. Not one of doom and gloom per se, more something restless that I couldn't put my finger on.

First up was my worst travel day to date, topped off with the most serious level of culture shock I have ever experienced. The 40 minute trip from the airport was nothing like the videos I'd been watching on YouTube, and I instantly felt sick.

Check-in went smoothly, as a Riu never disappoints. But what I immediately discovered they can't control are the mariachi bands playing loud and off key just outside the resort barrier on the beach. 

Starting upon our arrival, two of them played for almost 6 hours straight well into the dark. The good news was once they stopped, the sound of the ocean waves as we fell asleep made the anxiety of the day disappear.

The next morning, excited it was surely a 'welcome to Mazatlan' thing, we met Canadians that disclosed they'd been here for two weeks and it happens like that every single night; with as many as four bands playing in a twenty foot area. Glass half full? We knew the bands wouldn't be playing Thursday because it was going to rain. 

Then, midnight Wednesday arrived. Rolling thunder and lightning in the distance. By 3am Thursday the rain got heavier and by 5am it was driving coming into the room. Figuring it would pass, I made a video and posted it to Instagram. Landing in the lobby for breakfast painted a more serious picture.

The majority of those staying here are of Mexican decent and the locals were panicked. The lobby was packed with hundreds trying to leave and when we arrived for breakfast most of the food had been eaten. 

We ventured into the rain a few time throughout the day until we were soaked through to the bone, only to notice it apparent the staff was working hard to keep everyone safe; and they truly did a fantastic job.

With the water receeding as I type and Mother Nature settleing into her jammies, I definately experienced some serious mayhem in Mazatlan today. So, as my husband's adamant we continue to discover more and more Mexican & South American coastal cities, I know a couple of thing to be true.

Next time I need to pack a few extra pairs of big girl panties... Not to mention a kick ass rain slicker!

PS: The Weather Network says only sunshine for the rest of our stay.
PSS: How's that for your a glass half full gal JC?

Thursday, November 14, 2019


In my everyday life, I feel I have an abundance of amazing acquaintances, and a rather small group of very tightly knit confidantes. Two of the latter are former colleagues that I worked with for a decade, which began close to thirty years ago.

All these years later, I swear we will be racing our wheelchairs down the hallway of the only nursing home that will admit us as a trouble making trio in our twilight years. One I speak to every day, the other I speak to sporadically but when we do connect it’s always as if time’s stood still. I unconditionally trust them both.

Today, on my regular carpool call to Smartie, I disclosed I’d accidentally stood up our mutual friend (that I haven't seen face to face in a couple of years) for lunch. He assured me that he’d understand, yet I still felt like a big bag of poo. In an effort to cheer me up, he decided to reminisce about the time they’d participated in management sensitivity training together.

The task at hand was to turn to their partner and pay them a compliment. Smartie recalled the other had a female coworker (and close friend) that he was to compliment, to which he turned and with a straight face nodded declaring, “nice tits!”

My car instantly filled with laughter and I could see the look on everyone’s face as this infamous character once again brought down the house with his timing and general off colour wit. 

"Man, I’m mad at myself for missing lunch," I whined. 

Then Smartie reminded me that a true friend overlooks your failures. So, because today was an epic fail, when I got home I took an end of the day selfie simply to remind him what I look like.

That said, being apart doesn’t change the fact that we've recognize that for years we'd always keep in touch. I suspect that and our keen senses of humour and love of sarcasm are why our roots will always run so deep.

....And that I know I'm a fecking idiot for standing him up!

Snapped an end of day selfie so the lunch date (that I haven't seen in two years)
could remember what his idiot friend named Rhondi looks like!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 14th, 2019

Friday, November 1, 2019


My photos were taken exact 163 hours apart.
I really do dread this time of year!
I don't know about you, but fall for me is like an amazing twelve week shopping spree that eventually ends with an epic case of buyer’s remorse. 

It's as if Labour Day is the milestone signaling me to head the shopping mall. Thanksgiving brings the expensive and very euphoric sexy shoe purchase, and by Halloween the fun becomes strained.

Ultimately, by the time we turn the clocks back, the Visa bill with interest arrives; and that final buzz kill leaves me grumpy for the six long months of winter that follow.

As you know, the time change is a big deal for me. So many things I dread just naturally happen. Every. Single. Year.

Almost immediately after we 'fall back', I leave for work in the dark and arrive home under the same circumstance. The swashbuckling pirates that produce my bogus hydro bill begin to circle like vultures, and it takes every fiber of self-restraint to not put gravy on absolutely everything I eat. As an emotional eater, at least I know the latter feeds into my 24-7 need for comfort, when I am simply always glum.

All my bitching aside, I understanding time is precious and I truly do hate to wish it away but 2019 has not been a remarkable year of magnificent for me. Rather, I feel I have been repeatedly tested.

The truth is, with 61 days left until the year ends, I sense I’m in high school again. Specifically in grade 12 Chemistry when my teacher gave me a passing grade. Not because I'd aced his class, just simply because I'd tried as hard as I could and never once gave up.

Reinforcing, yet again, that even if you didn't have a shit year nor suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder,  there are two things I know to be true.

That life is really hard, right up until the moment it isn't.

... and that WINTER SUCKS!