Z IS FOR ZEBRA

A perfect way to wrap YEAR TEN.
...With a tribute to how I live my life!
Image (c) REDBUBBLE

W IS FOR WOMEN

March 8th was when we celebrated this year!
Cartoon (c) maxine.com

In recognition of International Women's Day, I posted this to my personal Facebook page this year with a song link (which I have added to my post at the bottom): 

In celebration of International Woman's Day I am sharing a song that has carried me though a male dominated sector, to which I believe I belong. Truthfully, I've seen it all as a mature woman in Muskoka construction. 

I've been told what to wear, coached on how to manage men that should have been let go, and had my intelligence diminished by bullies that hated the outgoing personality of an well versed woman. 

Most importantly, for being unconditionally loyal,  I was totally gaslighted as the internal political climate changed. 

The point of my story is I have never given up - and I am really very proud of that.

PS: If you truly know me and you've read this far.... AND you've listened to the tune I am sharing; you know who was on the other side of this exit interview!

Sara Bareilles - King of Anything (Official Video)

POLITICAL HAIR DAZE

In this electronic offering, I would like to discuss something as simple as the fact that I was privileged enough to get my hair cut and coloured in Simcoe-Muskoka last week. 

As proof of how truly grateful I am, I have attached before and after selfies illustrating my being provided a much needed personal service that I took completely for granted.

Before and After: With selfie photoshoots happening less than a month apart.
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 2021

Before I begin my rant, I would like to insert a caveat. With all we have happening in the world right now, I wake up every morning making an honest effort to be politically diplomatic. Meaning... 'to say nothing, especially when speaking, is half the art of diplomacy.’

I will acknowledge the fact that I’m sure you're perplexed out of the gate with the concept of my saying ‘nothing.’  My choice isn't because I have decided to shy away from the comfort of confrontation, more because in the last year I tend to gut check before I engage online with a person that is being irrational; to ensure that they are NOT going to be doing the same thing. 

That said, though I have my own ideas on how we got to today, I was wondering if anyone else (specifically in Ontario) feel like the tail is now officially wagging the dog? 

Why has cart sanitation and hazard pay at the local box stores disappeared, yet my amazing hairdresser with only one chair, obsessed to comply with every safety aspect thrown at her, expected struggle to generate honest revenue and pay bills?

It makes no sense.

The fact that the 'essential' weed shop in the sleepy little town where I live is an uber small business with a line up around the corner and down the lane, yet for months I couldn't get a haircut in a shop with a single chair. Even more baffling's that the elementary schools remain open here after cases are confirmed in students, and people still can't get a f*ucking haircut!

Look, I know I am scratching a scab that has been puss filled for a year. But we are locked down in Muskoka again thanks to a supposed 'UK variant' that has landed from Ireland. How did it get here?

At this point, because we aren't allowed to travel, my best guess makes me wonder if it landed on the lid of a can of Guinness sold at the local LCBO, that slipped into the store cooler after refusing to wear mask. 

That said, did you hear?  I got my hair done. We wore masks and everything!

Had it been 72 hours later? My gal would have lost her license!!

#rantcomplete #yagottalaughaboutit #totalbullshit #limitededition 

TINY BUBBLES

My electronic journal found some bizarre inspiration this morning. 

It was when the vinyl record player that is my mind kept hearing the classic 1966 Don Ho lounge lizard tune: Tiny Bubbles . (The song title is a link for those that have yet to have the pleasure.)

Now I'm sure we can all agree my chosen isn't a festive holiday tune, nor a track that plays into the whole 'reason for the season' vibe. Let's face it, as we crawl toward the end of a year so annoying it continually tripped over itself (twenty-twenty), a song about tiny bubbles within a lockdown mandate shouldn't be considered unfathomable.

My tiny bubble. Featuring my amazing Fab Five!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2020

Now, not being one to pet a cat backward just to prove I can, nor jump off the bridge downtown simply because I live in a town that has one with a cool brace over it, I would like to disclose that  months ago I decided to invested in understanding why we were being asked to live in a 'bubble' and what it actually meant. 

As a result, since being told to 'assume the position', I have not waivered from the general directive. All guidelines have been respected. All internet trolls looking to stir shit for the sake of having their voice amplified when they normally wouldn't, were heard.

At the end of the day, it's really hard to believe that it has been over nine months since everything became so hateful and unnecessarily divided. Even amongst my bubble featured here, we have agreed to disagree - leaving certain subjects abandoned and all opinions respected on every occasion.

One subject never abandoned? My obsession with taking their picture.

As a mother, I've I known for many years they hate posing and having me take their photo. I know they don't really want me to, yet cordially comply because they understand (in the end) it may be extremely important... To someone else. 

Thus making my photo taking philosophy the perfect mantra for what will make 2021 tolerable for all. 

In a nutshell? Take the high road and always play nice. 

Just like those in my tiny bubble do every time an impromptu photo op awkwardly presents itself!

TRICKY TRAVEL TALK

Last week, after noticing that some of my Canadians snowbird pals were beginning to flock south until next spring, I decided to open up a social media discussion on the possibility of upcoming travel to the Caribbean in the winter of 2021. 

I knew I might be encroaching on a tricky topic with some controversial dialogue happening, yet in the wide reaching forum I created, my network answered both respectfully and with personal honestly.

Wind blown, cruising the Mississippi River aboard The Natchez New Orleans
TAKEN: MAY 29th, 2019

As I sit here and type, I can't help but revisit the very first comment on my thread. A seasoned traveler wrote – “No travel until I’m vaccinated!”

On the day of the election of the 46th President of the United States, I can’t help but wonder what’s next in both the virus protection and travel departments. 

Right or wrong, a vaccine produced without proof of proper exploratory stages, pre-clinical development and regulatory review for approval, is not something I am rushing to put into my body. 

The shoe on the other foot reminds me that my thread wasn't intended to be a vaccination debate, more about travel input and opinions as I am hoping to hatch a plan and ultimately travel while respecting imposed limitations.  

With my sunny wings potentially grounded indefinitely, I know I could always travel and remain in Canada,  which is probably my best option at this point. I have family and friends out it BC, so that may be my overall 2021 birthday trip goal.

That said, vaccine or not, if the mandatory 14-day quarantine upon return to Canada is lifted, I will be sitting on a beach in the Caribbean quicker a snowsquall can move into Muskoka knocking out a neighbourhood of Bell satellite dishes.

Trust me.... Here, with our unpredictable winter storm crap?

That's 5G, Flash Gordon, blink and pack because you're leaving on a plane, fast! 

#nufsaid

MOOSEKOKA MUSING

Just hanging out at the cottage with my big bad bull Moose. 
TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 2018

I was driving home from work last week and I quickly called one of my closest confidants. I thought I had forgotten to thank them from paying for lunch. 

Once connected via Bluetooth, I was reminded that I had in fact already thanked them for lunch, and they in return thanked me again for listening. What followed was quick and very candid conversation about the makings of a meltdown. 

I can speak from experience when I admit that when I finally submit and actually melt down, the emotional fallout can be nuclear. The bigger tell is that final straw is never usually the root cause,  it's just the particular moment housing my last semblance of personal strength when a cherished trust is broken.

Because most know and read me as a full blown extrovert, you may be surprised to learn that I am actually a very private person. I tend to listen far more than I share, and when I do share, it’s generally about generic life experience rather than anything of a very personal nature.

As a people pleasing lass I can count on one hand the number of lifelong friends I have and I firmly believe I've had more than one soulmate thus far in my lifetime. 

You know, that certain someone you have an immediate connection with the moment you meet and that connection is so strong that you feel you've known them your entire life. You immediately know they're special and meant to be in your life - which describes my aforementioned lunch date perfectly!

Soulmate status update aside, I guess my musing point is that in all my years I have learned that many things come and go. Things like people, possessions, pets as well as my patience for personal and professional politics and shell games. 

Though I have never been one for looking back with regret, I have always tried to forgive myself for not having the foresight to see something bad coming my way. I guess you could say that is one of the systemic problems with my rose coloured glasses I wear with such pride.

Those suckers can make a brown bull moose charging me head on, appear in my favourite shade of red.

Even worse? 

They always seem to have a smile on their face!

#TrueStory #seephotoabove

MY MARRIAGE COIN

 I read somewhere that marriage is an institution designed to let you annoy one special person for the rest of your life. Yet, I’m sure when you flip my blog and bitch about marriage coin really high into the air it would read: The perfect marriage is between a blind wife and a deaf husband.

I know you’ll probably find this hard to believe, but since opening my own business in 2004, as an entrepreneur I quickly learned to hone two very specific social skills. 

1. ALWAYS take a 24-48 hour cooling down period before speaking to whom you’re truly aggravated with, because words can never be taken back.

2. AND...Smile and be thankful for every piece of shit pie eaten that generated revenue. 

As you can see from my last couple of electronic offerings, this Covid crap has me crazy cranky.

The cherry on top of that statement is our first official summer vacation together since 2012 was received worse than Bob Dylan going electric and sadder than Levon Helm leaving The Band because of it.

We may have only been at our cottage, but it rained six out of ten days and by this past Saturday morning (when our water pump failed yet again) we both hit the ‘this fecking sucks’ wall. It was clear in our Sunday morning volume alone, we both really needed to take a break. 

I moved home with the dogs. He did not.

Now, I should share, we rarely fight nor even disagree.

The two of us at my company Christmas Party
TAKEN: DECEMBER 2000

In our many decades together we have learned to skillfully navigate each other for continued success. In this instance, our small cottage space, two wet dogs, and a thrice mis-installed water pump got the best of us.

How bad was it? If a successful marriage requires you to fall in love many times with the same person… I’m thinking by Labour Day weekend we might be ready for a lunch date.

That said, I can assure you that it was so bad, my best girlfriend will be making one of those famous ‘escape a really bad date’ phone calls; fifteen minutes in.

#yagottalaughaboutit

ONE GIANT STEP

 Have you ever had one of those days where no matter what you try and accomplish, you take one step forward and two steps back? 

Well, the fat lady is tuning up to start singing to signal the end of my vacation, and gosh darn dammit if the last seven days haven’t played out exactly like that!

Since we connected water in early May, I have loved living in my little Covid Casita. But if I'm being honest here, the five days of rain last week drove me a tad bit stir crazy. 

Usually when I am antsy and frustrated, we hop in the car and go vrooom zoom for a change of scenery. Imagine wet dog everything and misplaced car keys. 

I know, right? Two. Steps. Back!

Y'all know I love my pups and that they love me. This is proven daily by the fact that they both have to be within two feet of me at any given moment. 

So, this past week, to avoid major rainfall/lake water stinkage, I towel dried them as much as possible, leaving me with a clean towel crisis that offered impressive expletives that I usually save for that crazy orange man south of here. 

I kid you not, when an electronic friend checked in via text with, “hope your week off is okay and quiet.” I instantly responded with, ‘I did laundry in the rain this morning... Livin’ the dream!” 

Truth of the matter is, when I saw the long-range forecast, I wanted to cancel and take a different week. My husband did not. I get it. He has the privilege of a maid and cook; so I can totally empathize with why we wouldn’t entertain a reschedule.

That said, I read an online article this week about the pursuit of personal happiness. It was from a husband’s perspective. It explained how it isn’t his job to make his wife happy. It is her responsibility to ensure she is happy with her choices and herself, which I agree with 100%.

So, when cleaning out the closets this past week, I came across a two-person pup tent I'd purchased for the kids many years ago. I set it up on the lower deck and looked forward to falling asleep over the water and waking up to the morning fog. 

I think I could market this space on Air BnB!
TAKEN: August 6th, 2020

People on my Facebook immediately joked that my husband had finally sent me to the doghouse but the truth of the matter is I hit the jackpot and got the hell out of the extra large doghouse for a good night sleep. 

Then, when heading up to make morning coffee, I broke the zipper on the door, took it down and hauled it into the trash.

Killing the tent after one might have been my two steps back. BUT baby, my night outside alone in the fresh air?

One giant step forward!

SUNDAY STORM DAY

I worked to get my weekend cottage chores done yesterday so that today could be an official day of rest. Well, that idea tanked quicker this morning than Donald Trump touting hydroxychloroquine as a cure for Coronavirus!

Meaning, my ‘no sun Sunday’ has the radio blaring and phone beeping with official tornado warnings, which in turn has me hunkered down inside with Spotify blaring, sipping a spicy Caesar, embracing a shitty Sunday storm day.

When given lemons? Make a Caesar and listen to Spotify!
TAKEN: JULY 19th, 2020

As my Bose speaker begins to play Kacey Musgraves and her song titled Rainbow starts; it seems eerily fitting.

“When it rains it pours,” is how the song begins. My struggle is that it feels like it has been raining for five friggin’ months, only in the non-precipitation sense.

Like most, I have struggled with this atmosphere I will officially label here as The Covid Climate.

I no longer watch the news, refuse to click on anything associated with the orange man, and find myself distancing myself from 90% of all social media. Lately, the only place I find any sense of normalcy is via Instagram. 

Probably because it’s hard to go wrong with pictures of the Muskoka landscape and Georgian Bay sunsets, as well as really cute pups. For the record, touting some serious cucumber envy, I also feel vegetable and flower gardens deserve an honorable shout out; way to go all you gardeners!

Anyway, if you dial your blog memory back, you’ll recall that people told me to stop being an alarmist when the virus first loomed.  Since then, so many have reached out to me via personal message sharing that they felt they too had been so sick. 

More worrisome is that most admitted they never shared being ill, purely because of the judgement of others that tended to follow; seeing as everything happening around us was fake.

I don’t know about you, but I have no idea how I managed to be graced and associated with so many scientists and immunology experts lately. Must be because Facebook University wasn’t an option for me in the mid 1980’s.

Who knew the first half of 2020 would produce such an elite number of scientific scholars?  Certainly not this cat. Well done Mr. Zuckerberg, for officially replacing both ethics and journalism worldwide with a meme.

With my sarcastic rant exhausted,  I know for a fact I am going to survive my 'no sun day' as well as the rest of this pandemic nonsense. 

How? Just ask my buddy Kacey, she knows. She tells me… That there has always be a rainbow hanging over my head!

Which has to be better than an Wile E. Coyote approved ACME anvil, right?

PS: If you haven’t heard the song, here’s a link, (Click here)

PSS: You’re welcome. She's awesome.

HAPPY TO HELP

A minute and a half away from celebrating my 5th anniversary with my current team, Tuesday was an extra special day for me at work.

A client walked into the office and handed me this lovely gift with a heartfelt personal note to say thank you. Though we socially distanced, she offered an ear to ear smile when I told her I would hug her if we weren't in the midst of a global pandemic.

Thanks Alberta!
TAKEN: JULY 7th, 2020

She's such a lovely lady. One that knows when she calls at the last minute and asks for help, I offer it unconditionally. Not because I want to sell her something, but because I pride myself on providing great customer service; one of the most important and successful career hats I have worn for close to 20 years.

When I changed careers in 2004 and went into business for myself, it was serious grassroots market research that defined my path to the here and now. Having never really been in sales prior, I discovered very quickly that with my keen ability for analysis that sales and marketing was definitely that sexy little black dress that absolutely fit me perfectly.

Shortly thereafter, my dad fell ill and he lived his last six months in hospice care in our home. While managing that, every single free moment of every single day was spent on the phone in my home office. 

You see, in the midst of his end of life care, I was trying to build something special. That something special, had been clearly identified by the large amount of data I had collected and analysed. 

That said, I would be lying if I said I did it alone. There were two great friends coaching me on how to get a seat at the 'big peoples table'. One still remains one of my closest friends and has an MBA in marketing, the other was a friend with a degree in journalism; with a brilliant mind, and marketing background. 

I could always count on the latter to be brutally honest with me. He ghost wrote for my clients for those first few years.  His name was Greg; he has since passed.

I remember how hard I worked that first year. When things really started to blossom, with a keen respect for his knowledge I  asked Greg to review my 3 year business plan. 

All these years later, I will never forget the moment he looked me in the eye and told me that I was onto something.  Three months after that, he and I celebrated after my very first full page ad appeared on page A5 of the Toronto Star. The  value of the upload of that one ad in 2005: $60,000. 

Print led to great success with radio, then in 2007 I produced my first series of television commercials. I still watch them every once in a while to prove to myself what I'd actually accomplished. It was a life changing.

Not gonna lie, it is always nice to daydream of those years gone by, yet when a simple gift bag arrives for the little extra effort that was supplied, makes one realize they're on the right track.

Proving, one should never bet against karma .

DEAL WITH IT!

When I was a kid, my summer days were spent by the lake and my evenings spent playing cards or board games by propane powered lights with my mom and extended family. All these years later, those memories are still very fond ones.

Naturally, when we purchased our own cottage back in 2000, a wooden game box for puzzles and everything else needed to keep preteens busy was one of the first things created. They would swim through the day and if it rained, the game box was immediately cracked open before the television was ever turned on.

As I type, I can hear that classic pop-o-matic sound of a game of Trouble clicking away, or squeals of an exciting game of snakes and ladder in need of a referee well underway.

Their favourite card game was crazy 8's and I feel like they played thousands of those with my Dad before he passed in 2005.

As I reflect in my 20th summer at our cottage, I can't help but notice how much things have changed.

The kids don't come by very often anymore and the majority of my time is spent alone, yet I still love playing cards and board games. The difference is now it's against downloaded robots or an online audience.

 

Playing Phase 10 while listening to the Blue Jays play.
TAKEN: JULY 2018

Every once and a while I can convince my husband to play but it's not really his thing. In the summers since the kids left home, it has always been a negotiation to gain his interest in participating.

For instance, in summers past, though I absolutely hate baseball (which is another post) I would concede that we could listen to the game on the radio if he'd agree to play a board game or a couple of games of cards in return. With this summer season cancelled, I think I am going to have to become super creative.

With cottage life officially underway and no sports to use as bait, I'm thinking I may need to bust out a topless option with benefits for Canasta to get him interested in participating.

Either way, I'll deal with it. 

Get it?

Cards?

Deal?

That said, feel free to insert eye roll or head shake now.

A solid groan would also be totally appropriate!

Y IS FOR YIKES

#YaGottaLaughAboutIT

X IS FOR X-CITED

Any idea what kind of party we'll have?
Via the Ya Gotta Laugh About It Facebook page.

W IS FOR WANDERLUST

For me, travel is a necessity!
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 2019

F IS FOR FITNESS

Driving by Snap Fitness yesterday, I laughed aloud when I read their marquee: “If your dog is fat… You're not getting enough exercise!” 

Personally, I thought the message was brilliant.

I walk far more than the recommended 10,000 steps a day, and I am very outgoing in every other facet of my life. I watch what I eat, and I certainly don't feel nor act my age.

Keeping with that last thought, my personal fitness guru was telling me that eating chocolate releases the same endorphins as having an orgasm.  Intrigued by the statement, I decided to do some basic math. 

The average chocolate bar contains 884 calories.  Having sex, can burn up to 300 calories per half hour.

Dottie enjoying our Book Club offering!
TAKEN: JULY 2012

Hmmm, I say the perfect solution is to enjoy an amazing two hour romp, and avoid any type of chocolate offering all together. 

That gives me a big bonus 1200 calories burned, and a perma smile that will stay with me way longer than any silly Kit Kat bar can possibly offer!

Now that right there is some serious calorie counting I can throw my back into! Guess I need to whip my husband into shape.

Whip? Maybe, not.

Blindfold? Definitely, MAYBE!

BOOK-A-BOO

As a child I remember my mother being a collector of books. She had hundreds of them which now reside with my brother. My sister’s a bookworm as well. She went as far as to begin writing one. I don’t fit into either of those categories.

Though I love to read a good novel I rarely find the time. I will admit one of my favourite pastimes is to spend hours upon hours trolling the aisles of a local two story used book store called The Owl Pen. I've never read the last page the way Hollywood hypes it as an option, rather find myself fixated in a section reading the backs forever searching for a specific fit.

As a busy working mom, spare time was never plentiful. So, since the children were small, I’d always make time to read when we’d travel. Because there was five of us, we usually drove to South Carolina for Easter week. 

The twins were about two when I started reading a grand total of four books a year. Two in the mini-van on the way there, and two on the way home.

With the kids grown and gone, nowadays I tend to only make it into The Owl Pen the Saturday before I get on a plane; and a few times each summer to stock up my bookshelf at the cottage.

Just like my favourite pair of fuzzy socks, I know what I like and I want what I know. Therefore, I and never venture very far away from good non-fiction and a handful of writers of fiction I like.

So you can imagine my shock (when on vaycay in Mexico last month) a passive aggressive electronic friend backhandedly 'book shamed' me via text message.

Check out my sexy bookmark & killer tan in process on the bottom left!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 26th - DECEMBER 3rd 2019

When I shared that I was excited to read the new Nicolas Sparks book, they countered with ‘my girls use to like to read him when they were in high school’. Inferring that I was stuck at a school girl level of reading?

Though there were several jabs before this one and several other reasons why, suffice it to say I haven’t sent a text message since. Yet, as I curl up next to the fire I can't help but reflect. You know, I truly feel Hemingway said it best with... ‘there’s no friend as loyal as a book!’

I wonder if Jane Austen or F. Scott would concur? 

FORTY FOUR

Well, it’s December 28th and I only managed to post here forty four times this year. Sadly, twenty six of those ditties were pretty much a cheat effort by yours truly to complete my annual April A-Z Blogging Challenge.

You’d think after all these years I might finally evolve past writing about my neurotic quirkiness, but the truth of the matter is I just renewed my web domains for another couple of years, so that’s a definite NO! 

I do love this creative process, but suppose the bigger share is that 2019 wasn’t a banner year for me. Spare time and whimsy wasn’t something I had a plethora of, which I suspect is all a part of the aging process happening around me.

What 44 actually looked like!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 2009

Who am I kidding, I’m not getting older. I’m simply entering a classic era. That said, I will admit I was  a tad surprised last month, when the 'were not getting any younger' age card got played to me at work. 

I realize the time ticking away is a constant reminder that I’m getting older. But the other side of that truth telling tarot card is that I don’t look, nor feel old. 

For years I’ve joked about ‘Freedom 55’ but have never really given it much thought to what that might look like; guess it’s time to start.

Let’s face it, I don’t think I’ll ever retire. Just like I’ll never sell my house or cottage property with lots of stairs, simply because I’ll always want something to work toward.

I know I’ll always be active and outgoing unless I do in fact fall and break a hip – in which case, I know I'll be grateful for the digital revenue entity I’d built. Allowing me to comfortably lay in bed and heal, whilst continuing to finance my obsession with travel .

I’m not joking. The consummate planner and goal oriented entrepreneur I am, will always have me working toward something new on my horizon. It’s like I can’t help seeking out a challenge and reaping my well planned rewards.

As I begin to search for photos for my year in review post for the eve of a new year,  I find my mind reflecting with wonder what 2020 will offer. The one thing I know to be true?

No risk. No reward. With a solid caveat that I hope to lose at least 20 pounds!

Thanks again for reading.

MY CANINE SUMMER SHIFT

Well, I woke up at 7am this morning, poured myself a hot cup of java, then packed the majority of my crap and moved back into town mid morning. 

It wasn’t my general intention when I went to bed last night, but I think I woke a tad panicked that I would come home to certain stresses at dawn tomorrow morning. 

The good news is I didn’t. I’d done all the laundry at the cottage Saturday & Sunday morning, and aside from the lawn needing to be mowed, all my other chores were done and the house clean.

I don’t know about you but I hate a mess. I hate unnecessary clutter, but most importantly, I hate if you walk into my home or cottage and you know I have dogs... Aside from the fact that they’ll drive you crazy with their incessant barking to announce the importance of your very formal arrival. 

Which brings me to my point. I haven’t written here about losing my beloved Spottie Dottie this summer. Truth is, it’s still too raw. What I will admit, is that I never realized how much work three dogs were, until I only had to tend to two.

My Dot never had an issue with the sound of a camera. RIP ole girl.
TAKEN: 2007-2019

The other thing that is hard to admit is how much dysfunction I enabled having an elder dog in long term palliative care.

Eight weeks after putting Dot out of her misery, the realization that she suffered far more than she needed to, and her mood swings (due to her cancer) took a serious toll on everyone, including both my other pups.

That said, I always knew that Puddin’ and Annie would thrive as a pack of two. If not for the likeness of their temperament, then for the unconditional acceptance of the life we have made for them. 

For the last couple of years, Dottie made Puddin’s life a living hell. Simply because she could.

I have spent the past couple of months focused on reprogramming her, yet she still feels the need to be in a constant state of submission because Dot needed to remain in charge until her death.

Anyway, about a month after we buried Dot, my boss cheerfully asked me, “when are you getting another dog?” My response was a quick and very pointed, “I’M NOT!”

The old adages of “once bitten twice shy or three’s a crowd,” immediately came to mind. Like other things in my past, I have no desire to EVER take that journey again. 

Instead, I will just bask in the memories I have of my three and be grateful my boss lets me dog sit his Golden Retriever, Charlie (lower left). Yup, our Charlie only has two angels to lead not three, 

After just spending his first weekend with us since Dottie parted, I'd say it suited him just fine!

FOR THE RECORD

My motto in life?
Kill the assholes with kindness!
TAKEN: April 1978

I don’t care who you are, when your feelings have been deeply hurt, there is nothing more exasperating than being told you’re overreacting.

As a matter a fact,  I am a firm believer that the only reason they play that super stupid lame card, is because on the surface they want the brutally honest conversation to stop. Simply because they've realized, deep inside, what they did to you was wrong and you are speaking an absolute truth.

Have I ever mentioned the fact that I’m often teased in passing that my cheerfulness is silly, or labelled as something it isn't?

Part of me thinks those being aggressively passive and judgmental about my very fashionable rose coloured glasses are that way because they've never met anyone like me; which is someone that would rather instill confidence over conflict.

I am honest when I write that I wake every day in hopes of making someone else’s day better. I think that may have  something to do with my being bullied as a child, in that I learned very early that my extroversion categorically opened my mind and spirit to a commitment to never stop setting goals nor letting others tell you that you didn't have great worth.

As a result, I have always worked to give my best. Which may read an an oxymoron seeing as over the years I've written here that the best I could do was barely crawl out of bed...Yet even then, I always did it and smiled.

As I process all of this, my biggest discovery this post is that once you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change. Which is the realization I had yesterday, and is naturally attached to what feels to be a bit like a broken heart.

Glass half full? It isn’t the first time my ticker has been less than stellar, and it most certainly won’t be the last. As a matter a fact, a wise and amazing friend sent me a text message this afternoon that read… ”Remember you are worthy of all the great & amazing things in life.”

She continued with, "these things and people far surpass the other people & events around you that can create inconvenience & negativity.”

To which I replied: "Agreed... The loss is theirs & bigger than they can ever imagine!”

Once again, I have my big girl panties pulled up and I am moving onward & upward.

Thanks again for reading.

RHONDI's RENOVATING!

Growing up, thanks to having a sister and their parents limited mortgage borrowing power, my boys always shared a bedroom. Then, once we all weathered an unforeseen hospice journey in our new home, that extra room was offered to my eldest son; finally granting him a bedroom of his own. He was in his teens.

A creative soul since birth, Jukebox immediately decided he wanted to redecorate, and asked to paint his new space a very vibrant orange. Striving to prove that I wasn't a total control freak, I simply internalized my immediate anxiety attack, then agreed to his unconventional colour choice.

All these years later, though other rooms have received new flooring & updated colours, what's now my home office remains that popular fall colour that rhymes with no other. I suppose it's because I knew once I accepted the 'ultimate orange room renovation challenge', the rest of the house simply HAD to follow. 

You see, though I love the layout of my home, it's been blessed with 'popcorn ceilings'. An interior design (once considered somewhat sexy) plaster application, that was popular when every kid in the neighborhood had to be home before the street lights came on, and your mama wasn't afraid to spank you.

Though the crap in the home has been painted twice since the its purchase, I've known for years the retro look needed to go. So, with the help of YouTube and an ambitious renovation schedule, the now famous orange room officially lost its 1980's 'early heritage status' yesterday!

Wearing my fancy fur-lined CROCS were just one of my many renovation mistakes yesterday!
TAKEN: JANUARY 12th, 2019

After the experience, I would love to share that my plaster removal video training had me feeling the same euphoria that beautiful puppies & very expensive wine offer, yet that would be a bold-faced lie.

Even with my decision to outfit my chair in the ugliest fitted bed sheet destine for landfill, in a room draped in plastic that I swear could have been prepared by Dexter, things did not go as smoothly as planned.

Though I appreciate my YouTube video schooled me to spray water on the plaster before removing it, it did not warn against the true downside of doing so. Therefore, I gave said training video a thumbs down.

Why? The room, my hair, my clothing, my slippers, my skin were all covered in a paste like substance I magically, albeit, unexpectedly created. 

That said, my reason for my negative review was 100x's bigger than anything listed above.

You see, I always sing when I work.

And that stuff, though generally moist & bad in texture...

Tastes absolutely awful!!