FOUR VALID POINTS

Let me set the tone by sharing that a male friend of mine posted an meme on Instagram yesterday that literally made me laugh out loud. It referenced general communication most married couples relate to.
It read: 
My wife just stopped & said, “You weren’t even listening were you?” 
I thought… “That’s a pretty weird way to start a conversation?!” 

To create a context for that comment, there’s an old adage that a men & women have so many words they must verbalize in a day. By the time a man gets home, he’s used up all his words. But, because his wife’s words are at least double, she wants to talk for hours after her man ultimately wants quiet...Which is NOT the case here.

Even though I am a full blown extrovert, I deal with so many people on any given work day that I have no desire to be the least bit chatty when I get home. The same goes for when we travel. It’s like we completely switch our day to day personas. He wants to participate in every single event by the pool (not to mention lead the conga line at night) and I want to quietly exist on the periphery with a good book.

To further that, in day to day life this last year, the less we communicate, the better we co-exist.

As I reflect on that last comment I realize in the early days, I expected him to be able to read my mind. As the first & second decades passed, I began to understand repeating myself multiple times was generally what I signed up for. Now, 99% of the time, I just take care of what I need done without asking. This simple tweak's rewarded me a strange sense of accomplishment, eliminating a track record of disappointment.

As an example, we closed the cottage today and very few words were exchanged. We headed in with a task to be completed, and in less than a hour we were headed home. Could it be that all these years later, there are no real need for extra words? 

Part of me thinks it's because we know the other and our routine so well that there isn't a need for dialogue. The other side of that coin is that in the past 30+ years I have come to realize the following:

i)   He can't, nor has any desire to read my mind.

ii)  Never test him on what I am feeling, because he will fail.

iii) Don't dry hump a scenario for a change in attitude. It will only result in chaffing.

iv) Lastly, when truly seeking undivided conversation, always lead with an engaging topic. (My personal experience is that the top ten topics are generally sexual in nature.)

What can I say? Over the years, we've both discovered less is ultimately more. Which is why I found that Instagram post so gosh dang funny...

I don't care who you are.

Always root for the amateurs trying to make a go of it!

The hat wearing husband & his sun kissed hag embracing Muskoka cottage life.
TAKEN: CANADA MAY 2-4, 2011

SOME SUPER SIMPLE ADVICE

“Stay away from negative people... 
They always have a problem for every solution!” 
~ Albert Einstein

Are you going to Heaven or Hell?
I believe that you are perpetuating
one or the other in your everyday life!
TAKEN: JULY 2014

I have been doing a lot of reading lately about personalities. Not in the ‘disorder’ sense, that I have party of fifteen going on in my head & I’m the hostess. More about how to cope in a sandbox that can quickly fill up with hardwired negative minded peeps.

For quite sometime, I've been struggling with a person I must interact with on a regular basis. This past spring it became increasingly taxing, so I decided to delve in, research, and try to understand why.  

As expected, my surfing led me from one link to another, until I landed on a podcast that resonated. Short story long, it ended up discussing the theory of how our personality ultimately falls into one of three categories; positive, neutral, or negative.

Following that thought process and expanding my reading led me to my next clarifying moment: That a negative person doesn't really understand that they're negative, more they matter-a-factly find someone with a true positive vibe downright annoying.

That said, the more I read, the more I understood that a negative person that is forced to interact on a regular basis with a positive or neutral person, unleashes their mental frustrations by exercising passive aggressive tenancies; which are meant specifically to belittle, whilst pacifying their need for making the other feel as they do about their outlook on life in general.

Y'all know I steer clear of religion and politics here. And if you're looking for a free psychiatric assessment, I haven't a clue what I am talking about, so click the big X in the top right hand corner of your screen and move along.

What I will say, is that I honestly believe that life is all about personal choices. I never focus on what will happen in the afterlife, rather I am more about embracing a heaven or a hell each and every day.

How so?

Simple....

I believe if you always keep your face in the sunshine, it's hard to get lost in the sheer darkness that lurks in the shadows that will forever surround.

My 2 cents!

I'LL ALWAYS SAVE A SPOT

It was three years ago this month that a long-time acquaintance took a total leap of faith with this cat and decided to let me carpool with her. Though we’d known the other for over twenty years, our interactions for the decade previous were completely selfish on my part; with my continually tapping into her wealth of compliance knowledge within the construction industry.

As luck would have it, our new found arrangement and getting into the groove of really knowing the other once again, was like riding a bike. That twenty minute daily commute didn’t take us long to realize we had more in common than we could possibly imagine. 

From the get go, our morning routine ranged from both of us yelling at incompetent drivers, to one convincing the other that a death wish drive-thru breakfast sandwich would never in a million years harden our arteries. For forty minutes a day, we quickly and very easily morphed into Thelma & Louise.

As an unexpected bonding bonus, last summer I was ecstatic when she invited me to join in her yoga classes at the local community centre that were geared specifically to municipal employees. Once again, she had taken me under her wing, and willingly toured me around the dance floor.

Our last practice with Ashley this summer.
TAKEN: AUGUST 30th, 2018

Well, it is with a heavy heart that I realized tonight the reality that my SweeneyMeister is retiring at the end of this year. I swear it wasn't until tonight, and the brutal realization that it was her last practice with the lady that made her fall in love with yoga, that the alarm bells went off.

Knowing the great respect she and Ashley have for each other, I felt the need to capture tonight for prosperity. Though I did take a picture of my favourite three at the end of our practice, I will admit  that I like this one the best.

It solidifies, without a doubt, that not only is my my quirky carpool sidekick very serious about yoga.... but that she also makes sure she saves my spot.

I love you my friend. I truly believe we were always meant to reconnect.

Nameste.

YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS?!

My breaking the news we are staying in town.
TAKEN: AUGUST 10th, 2018

After a really great weather weekend in Muskoka, I am in the process of working toward getting my pups off suicide watch, as I've moved back into town with them for the week.

You see, with my commitment to doing yoga twice a week (and the days getting shorter) this last round of heat last week made it apparent that I have lost my stride. Time to re-calibrate on all levels and get some much needed deep and uninterrupted sleep.

I know it may sound exciting to own a home and a cottage that are a fifteen minute drive apart, and 90% of the time it is. The other 10% of the time you worry how you’ll get the lawn at home mowed, floors washed, not to mention the very large doghouse properly cleaned that three very hairy canines rule from Monday to Friday. For me, the latter is nerve-wracking and a burden.

I honestly make lists to find an ease to the order but it never fails, items are missed and unexpected things take priority which frustrates me to no end. If I am being honest, I don’t think my frustration is due to being unorganized, more because I am a tad embarrassed to admit that the happiness of three dogs rule my day to day life.

At the end of it all, they are like any over stimulated toddler. The more they get, the more they want. Hell, isn’t that the rule of thumb for most greedy people in your life? You will always have givers and takers, the hardest part in finding a balance that works.

Could that be why I love yoga so much… because it offers balance?

That, and the fact that there's no dog hair to be found?

Peeps, that right thar is gosh darn truth!

HAIR TODAY. GONE TOMORROW.

Last Thursday I had a planned lunch date with someone I hadn’t seen face to face since May of 2017. Unfortunately, we discovered the night before there was a calendar conflict,  so the easiest thing to do was reschedule for this coming Friday.

My first world problem was I wanted to surprise him with how I'd grown my curly hair to the middle of my back. Not because he'd give a shit, but because there is always a bit of a tell when you haven’t seen someone for an extended period of time. And for me, I knew the length of my hair would've been a bit of  jaw dropper.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not vanity on my part, more a sense of personal pride.  From the time I was a young girl, my mother kept my hair cut short for the ease of getting me to school in the morning. Then, as I entered my teen years, I didn’t have the knowledge nor understanding on how to manage naturally curly hair, so as it grew out, the frizz always outweighed the future fashion potential of it all. That, combined with a barely there A cup, I ended high school looking like a boy that was trying too hard.

Well, thanks to the internet and a kick-ass hairstylist, I figured it out. It was expensive in the beginning but I justified the expense by telling myself I was worth it. As I aged and truly understood how one treats grey hair, I took the matters of the management of it into my own hands and the very large bills disappeared.

Hair's looking great. Shame about the face!
TAKEN: August 2nd & 7th, 2018

So here you have it. A picture of the longest my hair had been in I don’t know how many years, and me headed to work yesterday shortly after 7am, with uber curly hair!

The dead nuts honest truth is the 99.9% of the time I'm away from work or alone, my hair is either up and off my face, in need of some root touch up, or simply a dogs' freakin’ breakfast. So much so that when I landed for my cut Friday lunch I was wearing a Taylor Made ball cap & looked like a super serious paper bag hag.

Glass half full? She made me look and feel beautiful for my trek into Toronto, and I have told her that I will always pay her serious money to never allow anyone to see what I look like when I land at her shop.

How serious am I? When my buddy Barbie spied me up in Instagram at the concert she asked, ‘when are you gonna start aging like the rest of us?”

My response... “Hopefully, never!”

Which is partially thanks to the hush money I will always pay my hairdresser!

LIFE LESSON #997

I don’t know about you, but it’s been a really wonky summer for me. The weather’s been amazing, yet my disposition has generally stayed in the average range of fair to partly cloudy. I have theories as to why, but if I were being honest, I would have to admit that in the last few months I've had to do so much ‘on the spot’ emotional juggling, that I swear I’ve heard circus music whenever I've daydreamt.

Specifics as to why aside, I will weight in with the opinion that the strange part about juggling emotions, is it feels like a catch 22. Just like any over achieving circus juggler knows, it’s not as simple as making it look easy (whilst keeping all the balls in the air) it’s also about simultaneously keeping track of which of the balls are made of rubber, and which of them are made of glass.

Though we tend to lean on intuition to tell us which will bounce and which will break, I've often wondered... Do we ever really know?

For yours truly, it’s about finding a balance that works. I'll admit I fret most about the same rubber balls I've dropped time and again, that have always bounced back and wonder how long they will. With the other side of that reflective coin being, sometimes, a glass one that's cherished so dear, needs to be dropped for ones personal health & well-being... Which leads me to my next question. 

Have you ever allowed someone to hold you as their emotional hostage?

I know you know the type. If you'd intelligently step out of and looked at the toxic relationship, you’d discover that you were doing all the work and they were taking all the spoils; always expecting more while you are expected to accept the status quo. 

Embracing that philosophy, I was shocked to discover that by letting that aforementioned cherished glass ball drop, though it shattered the loudest, it offered the most relief and left the least emotional mess to clean up. 

#WordsToLiveBy
Image Courtesy of : Smile Again Ministries
(All Rights Reserved)

So there you have it. My life lesson #997 has taught me a couple of very important things...

One, that some things are meant to be.

And two, that I am a dead-nuts, no circus would ever want to hire me, piece of crap juggler!

Glass half full? Circus recruiters have told me I have what it takes to be the perfect sssnake charmer!!

...Ba-dum-bump 

S IS FOR SADNESS

This editorial cartoon depicts how a country filled with sadness pulled together during
the recent Humboldt Bronco bus crash in Saskatchewan. Too many gone too soon.
(c) www.artizans.com

MADE YOUR APPOINTMENT YET?

So, it’s been a little over a year since I began my quest for a clean bill of health. It started in my family doctor's office with a clear vision of me needing to establish a starting point for my mid-life body, giving me the ability to embrace it for the next twenty five plus years.

It immediately kicked off with a ton of blood work that quickly led to a series of ultrasounds, smears, specialists & 'oscopy procedures; and although it took longer than I'd ever imagined, all have proven to have been very necessary.

My point is that I had an outpatient procedure yesterday in hospital about 30 miles south of me. It was at my request, as we had ruled out the medication dealing with what was a definite growth wasn't having the overall impact that was expected.

Because I was the one pushing for the procedure, I didn't find the idea as personally stressful as say if I’d been given less than a week's notice and told it had to happen as soon as possible. In hindsight, I wish I would have been more mentally prepared and done some clear research to understand what I was about to endure. 

Who knew OHIP supplied very sexy paper bracelets
for enduring one of their life changing spa experiences?!
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 22nd, 2018

As silly as this may read, I believed that I was going to pop in and out of the outpatient department as fast as one does locally when they have a mammogram, which wasn't the case.

I should have picked up my doctors' vibe when he asked me, twice, 'if I would prefer to have a general anesthetic' and not remain awake.

I declined because I felt I had prepared myself for having the lump removed, yet what I didn't know was how painful and stressful being awake for the procedure would be. I actually think I went into a little bit of shock... Because by the time I dressed and said my goodbyes, I began to shake all over. I narrowly managed to get into the car before I had a total meltdown. I cried all the way home from the sheer physicality & emotional anxiety of what I'd just endured.

Now that I have had time to calm down, I don't regret going forward with the procedure. I was a tad surprised with the number of stitches I received and that it would take close to a month for them to heal but the experience is all a part of the bigger picture and my own philosophy, which is that no one should ever take their health for granted.

If I have to take a glass half full moment from the experience, it would have to be that I am so very grateful that I have always been aware of my body and any changes that are happening. Between self-examination and the simplistic generality of Web-MD, I hope to have stayed ahead of my biopsy results being cancerous.

If you haven't kept up on your bill of health, make that appointment today. If my post doesn't spell it out, understand that there are a million reasons why you should with the #1 reason being the single most important one of all.

... You're freaking worth it!

SOME ADVICE TO LIVE BY

It's that time of year again, when you spend the majority of your much earned time off, going through all of the motions that are expected. Yet, the truth of the matter is you can't wait to get an evening to yourself; so you can crack open a bag of Doritos and cheerfully comment aloud that 'they're definitely the most underrated hors d'oeuvre!'

What a year. What a hell bent, Skinny Minnie Miller, roller derby, whirlwind full of exit drama kinda year. Those latter bull crap filled shenanigans ultimately had the Russian judge award me a perfect 10.0 for my year end dismount. That unexpected score right there, has me quietly reflecting in my fuzzy socks this New Years Eve. So many emotions yet not a single regret. Just an amazing amount of personal enthusiasm for what the coming year has to offer.

Relax, this isn't a 'new year - new me' electronic journal post. Because as you all know, I have worked very hard to get to this phenomenal place called balance. Instead, my post has me reporting that under our severe cold freeze, I took it upon myself to get out of the house and walk to town yesterday to get a new high speed router.

My timing to town was perfect, which allowed me the privilege of taking my daughter for a bite of lunch at our favourite coffee shop. After a great visit and some much needed 'I love yous,' I headed back toward the homestead on foot. Man, it was cold. I hadn't noticed the bitter windchill heading to town as it must have been to my back.

Singing and walking at a pace just shy of a slow jog,  I tackled the last large hill toward my final straight stretch. With my face freezing from the windchill, I decided to call my husband. I told him where I was at and to let the dogs out in the next couple of minutes so they could get a good run in to come and meet me.

My beautiful airborne Annie... with Puddin' and Dot!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 30th, 2017

As I turned the corner & called their names, from hundreds of meters away, I could see them bolt and my beautiful Annie begin to fly.

As I grabbed my phone I laughed a loud. All my mind could process from the oncoming visual was THIS's what unconditional love looks like!

It's that simple.

In 2018, make a conscious effort to radiate the energy you want to receive. Always keep your words kind, and the tone of your voice kinder. Spend time with the people in your life that align with your personal philosophies; and less with those that don't.

 Most importantly? ...Don't be a dick!

As we officially ring in our seventh eve together, I'd like to take this opportunity to wish everyone a very Happy New Year and once again thank you all so very much for reading.

Cheers to 2018 ~ Rhondi 

SOMEONE CRACKED THE CODE

Sometimes, I can be so pessimistic that I look and assess for signs of things that may go wrong fifteen step down the road. Not because they will, more just in case they do. 

My thought process being, if the shit does happen to fly off the rails, I've insured a well thought out plan for self-preservation. This wasn't always the case but as I'm sure you can relate, deep hurt creates checks and balances into any routine ensuring history never repeat itself.

As mentioned a couple of posts ago, I touched on the fact that my unconditional loyalty had been seriously taken for granted after executing my sales and marketing expertise to dead end promises. Point being, nothing in business will EVER surprise me again; nada, nothing, zero, zip, zilch!

Anyway, I bumped into a relatively new business acquaintance today. When our eyes met, we both immediately smiled and outstretched our hands to formally greet the other. Once our hands began to shake, I was the first to speak and confidently asked…. “How’s my newest Linkedin connection doing today?”

After he chuckled at my approach, he made a point of saying that connecting with me professionally led him my blog (a.k.a. this very sexy electronic journal). I thanked him for his kind words, then touched on how long I’d actually been ranting about completely useless topics, explaining how careful an effort I’d exercised to cryptically conceal identities and blatant truths that had transpired over the years in my sleepy little town. 

A profile selfie snapped at my desk 4 years ago today!
(Thanks Facebook On This Day for reminding me)
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 14th, 2012

He  continued by referencing that he had enjoyed my October 27th post. Mentioned that he'd put two and two together, cracked the code and continued to explain his own experience with the very same entity I was bitching about: I was speechless. 

Look, I started this whatchamacallit thing as a clueless empty-nester that admired two other female bloggers that posted on my Facebook feed.

Lost once my children left home, I remember constantly roaming around in my thoughts without a flashlight or GPS. Everywhere I looked, everyone had an agenda. In turn, I felt writing to be my only option to having a voice.

I truly do remember that very first post more than six years ago, when the negative haters looked to my ambition and told me 'blogging was dead.' I didn’t care. I had something to say. Trouble was I didn’t know exactly what that was. Even more complicated? Seven hundred and twenty six posts later, I'm not sure I know now.

Yet, after today, I know one thing. I no longer have to, nor have the desire to write in code. If I have something to say, I am going to say it. Don’t like it. Don’t read. My posts may have be coming fewer and farther between but that is going to change. I'll never stop voicing my opinions. It’s simply who I am.... 

An opinionated, fun loving, sarcastic jokester, that's gonna keep on keeping  it real.

Afterall, if a stranger can break the code, maybe it's time to remove the password!

THE ART OF PATIENCE

Well, my almost year long quest for a clean bill of health had me starting my work day in my home office this morning. Closing in on the end of what feels has been a bit of a mini marathon, I am glad to share that I'm feeling fan-tab-u-lus!

Because I had an appointment, I didn’t have to meet the carpool this morn. Yet, as I do every morning, I woke up on schedule to a steaming pot of fresh perked coffee and let the pups out to do what we all of do when we wake up in the morning.

Still dark outside, I found it odd that I had to almost coerce Dot back into the house with treats. As soon as the sun rose she wanted back out, so just before 8am I let her go. At her age, there’s no need to tie her as she always stays within earshot; or so I thought.

Working away I lost track of time. As my tummy rumbled for sustenance, I realized I hadn’t heard a peep from Dot. Not coming when called, I ventured into the back gully, all gussied up in the ugliest bathrobe & drop dead bedhead imaginable. What I found was my pup no longer able to stand. She'd clearly remained on high alert for her arch red nemesis for more than 3 hours, which easily displays the art of patience. 

Spottie Dottie on high alert for Big Red!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 11th, 2017

I have been thinking a lot about patience lately. Specifically certain people around me, and their lack thereof it. Is it a symptom of midlife and old age? Because mine seems to be increasing, opposite of my husband whose is steadfastly plummeting. Five/six years ago I use to tune it out. A couple of years ago I use to point it out. Now a days I just tend to roll my eyes, laugh about it, and carry on.

The funny thing is the topic of patience comes up once in a while in our carpool chit chat sessions and the Sweeny-Meister always wonders why I don’t let it affect me. I usually have a response that gets a true belly laugh out of her but when the laughter ceases, my final summation is always the same: why would I bother?

I truly believe that I am at the point in my life where I pick my battles and the truth of the matter is I simply no longer have any desire to fight. Though strong in spirit and a full blown extrovert, I’d rather be alone than be around unnecessary drama.

Honestly, if I look deep, I think of patience as that trigger that proves I'll never stop hoping. I truly do have such hope. So much like Dottie, I'm unwilling to give up. Even though, more often than not, my heart knows the truth.

... That I'm simply nothing but an absolute idiot. A fiercely patient, absolute idiot.

Thanks for reading.

THE RIGHT STUFF

Last week, after a generally disheartening and somewhat life changing day, I decided to head to the cottage for dinner. Just like the rain cloud that followed me around for the majority of the day, during my drive from town it started to sprinkle. By the time I got out of the car and to the bottom of the hill, I was in the midst of a full blown downpour. Suffice is to say once I finally unlocked and got through the cottage door my lovely summer wears were pretty much soaked.

Without a second thought, I kicked off my sandals, zoomed through the kitchen, opened the patio door and headed down the stairs to the water. As the rain intensified, I simply closed my eyes and absorbed the moment. Before long, I could feel that not only was I completely relaxed but by now I was also soaked to the bone. You know that vibe? When your makeup's running, whilst the pungent smell of wet dog overpowers the scent of the copious amount of hair product one puts in their hair.

In that very moment, any/all stress and concern disappeared and my overall disposition completely decompressed. Nothing, and I mean nothing (other than maybe one of those perfect hugs that turns into really great sex) has ever offered me such a sheer sense of relaxation like consciously standing in the pouring rain.

Eyes closed, I could hear the pups swimming around me and swear I could feel each and every raindrop landing on me. For a brief moment my mind veered to why I was so glum, then immediately realized the point was moot. In no way, shape or form, was I going to let the bad behaviour of another occupy my good nature nor my loyalty a moment longer. I stood in that rain for more than 20 minutes and the only reason I went up to the cottage was fear I would need to put my phone on rice to dry it out.

Anyway, once I dried off and fed my pups, this image is what I arrived on the dock to find. Trust me when I write, more than a week later, the rainbow was meant to be. Kind of like an affirmation that everything was going to be alright.

Completely unrelated to my mood, the day following my social media post stating 'there's nothing better than standing alone in the pouring rain. It's like a mute button for life,' my boss sympathetically asked me if I was okay. When I assured him I was, I felt the need to add a very important tidbit. 

You know the person the coined the phrase, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?" I said. "Today I'm honestly thinking they just need a a really good and solid punch in the face!"

We both burst out laughing and I knew in right then & there I'd be just fine.

Enjoy this amazing image and thanks again for listening.

This image is what the beauty of  making the right decision looks like.
TAKEN: JULY 26th, 2017

BIRTHDAY PARTY HINDSIGHT

Remember when we were kids and the best part of a birthday party, aside from the cake, was the loot bags we were given on our way home? Ah, loot bags. If my memory serves me correctly, there was always a direct correlation about the success of the party you’d just attended based on the loot you headed home with.

Well, after celebrating three July birthdays last Saturday night, I woke up Sunday morning to the sound of rain on our tent roof and an unusual throbbing of pain that led me to believe that I’d be heading home one hell of a "loot bag”.  The only difference being that I was blessed to receive it before I was ready to leave for home and it contained only a single piece of loot; a broken baby toe.

After my husband became mobile Sunday morning, I stayed in the tent and listened to the rain pour. In some serious pain, I couldn't help but reflect that there's so much truth to that saying, “it seemed like a really good idea at the time.” More often than not, when it comes to me being with a great bunch of people, amazing music, and jell-o shots circulating, I always tend to strike out in the foresight department. However, when it comes to hindsight, I always seem to score perfectly: 20/20.

The glow of orange jello-shots by the fire.
(...In the wee hours of the morn.)
TAKEN: JULY 15th or 16th, 2017

As a matter a fact, I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was generally confident that foresight wasn't going to show up when trays of colourful jell-o treats began being served and it was unanimously decided we all needed to go swimming.

So, with that decision being made, in the heat of that campfire moment, I felt the urge to take the picture I'm sharing. Primarily because it’s been at least a decade since I’d enjoyed these and secondly because I knew that things we’re going to graduate to the next level in a nano-second.

Though it seemed like harmless fun (getting into our swimming gear in the wee hours of the morning) it somehow escaped me that I was about to jump full force into a pool with no deep end. My poor baby toe didn't have a fighting chance in the breakage department. Hell, I think my ankle narrowly escaped!

As I went back and forth via text with an electronic friend today, they asked how my toe was. I was telling them that it’s been over a year since I have participated any type of these shenanigans. I also replied that I won’t be looking to jump on any type of a similar bandwagon for a very long time.

Anyway, I did admit that whenever I get myself into a situation like the one I did in the wee hours of Sunday morning, I always try to learn from the experience to avoid it in the future. So, in true Rhondi fashion, I replayed the accident over in my head and I have concluded that by changing one minor detail my poor toe could have been spared.

The minor detail wasn't enjoying the shots with my crew, nor by not getting into my bathing suit. My solution's much simpler than that. Midnight pool etiquette 101: This bitch should have simply done a kickass cannonball. 

See? Right there you have changed everything. Should I have had the gift of foresight in that moment, this crisis would have been completely averted!

Just sayin'.

ALL WAS DEFINITELY NOT LOST

Like most people I am a creature of habit.  When it comes to any defense and/or coping mechanisms, should something work I stick with it until it doesn’t, then I reassess. Like any stellar mechanic, I have a really cool toolbox filled with exercises I use to help keep my personality sharp and my mind out of any unnecessary darkness. 

I don’t talk here much about how big a pessimist I am but if I were to gauge it, I'd go with T-Rex large and twice as fierce. Anyway, after a bout of postpartum depression in the mid 1990’s, I decided a change in overall outlook (combined with an understanding of my limitations) the only way to go. As a result, I ended up to seeking help outside my family physician to avoid being medicated on anti-depressants. 

Forever an all important work in progress, I'm generally very open about the fact that I lean on a psychologist if need be; with my core philosophy being you take your car in for a check-up why wouldn’t you do the same for your mindset.

Short story long, I didn’t go to work today. Specifics as to why are moot points so when the alarm rang at 5am I immediately decided I needed to completely regroup and dig deep with a solid effort to go from funk to fab. Well rested, I finally rolled out of bed around noon.

Rested, yet restless, I needed to focus and find an unrelated task. I decided to remove and attack my hard drive that'd crashed from my office desktop unit last April and see if I could salvage anything from it. I got the necessary tools from the garage and began my dissection. 

Staccs n' me  rocking the white sand beach in Cayo Coco, Cuba
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 10th, 2017

I am pleased to report that I was able to successfully remove the hard drive without further damage and retrieve all of my precious data. Thousands of pictures but more importantly all of my taxation backup. Because as we all know...the taxman is a complete and total asshole!

As my data transferred I couldn’t help but reflect on the year I’ve had. If I wasn't what the doctors label clinically depressed last winter I’ll eat my fuzzy socks and lend you all the blankets I wanted to cover my head with. 

That said, my saving grace through all of that drama was the weekend jaunt I took to Cuba with my daughter. I salvaged this picture today. Isn’t she absolutely beautiful?

She will be excited to read that I got all of our travel pictures back. Along will all of our others from 2007 on. Hence the reason for my title that all was definitely not lost.

Who says being in a mental health daze can’t be rewarding, productive and amazing?!

I IS FOR IDIOT

When I was away, I posted a photo of my friend Darin and I to my Instagram with a caption that read, 'a good heart is always rewarded during a trying time.' Sounds simple enough but the other side of that proverbial coin is: don't be an idiot and you'll arrive at where you're meant to be relatively unscathed.

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you wanted to be heard, yet in the grand scheme of things you just walked away and moved on? I find myself doing that more and more as I transition in mid life. Not because I've lost my edge, more that I've consciously decided that I no longer wish to associate with people that aren't meant to be in my wheel-house.

Heading home from Dallas to Toronto this morning, I couldn't help but stare out the window on the tarmac and reflect on the plethora of bad behaviors I witnessed yesterday, as a few hundred of us got delayed in New Orleans due to extreme weather and a mechanical failure to our plane.

Almost midnight & still in line.
TAKEN: APRIL 10th, 2017

 Twelve hours later and finally in Dallas, I had to shake my head as a gentleman was verbally abusive to the nice lady trying to help him out of the unfortunate situation we found ourselves in. If I had to describe how I felt in the moment, it was general sadness.

I know full well that everyone reacts to stress differently, I get that. Hell, no one knows that better than yours truly; but bullying the one person there to unconditionally help you is just plain asinine.

As we greet Spring and welcome Easter next weekend, it feels great to have finally made it through another long Canadian winter. As we soar home at 32,000 feet (and type on my tablet and listen to Don Henley croon through my Blackberry)  I'll leave you with another of my simple life observations.

When you feel you're arguing with an idiot... Be sure they aren't doing the same! 

Thanks again for reading.

A LETTER TO MY DAD

Dearest Dad,

Well, it was 11 years ago today you left me. Where the hell has the time gone?

For obvious reasons, you've been on my mind this month. So, out of the blue, I mentioned our 11th anniversary at work yesterday. Then, when I got home tonight I realized nothing tells someone you love them more than writing them a letter; so here you have it.

As you know, the kids are doing great. I wish you could chat with them, laugh with them, one more time. You’d be so very proud. I know I talked to you often when Sweetie was out West, and though she's still healing, I am pleased to report she's finally found her stride. Both the boys are working hard and finding great individual success, which I know won't even remotely surprise you. I will admit that as parents, it seems a tad surreal to be simply standing at the sidelines and watching. Then again, as empty-nesters, more good news as we too have finally found our way.

I'm enclosing some updated photos of the crew. The one of Sweetie and Goob was taken last week when we met for lunch, the one of Jukebox & his Dad was taken when we traveled with friends to Mexico for my last birthday. I'd attach an updated picture of me, but just like Mom, I always seen to be behind the lens of a camera.

Goob & Sweetie                                                   Hubby with Jukebox.
TAKEN: APRIL & JUNE 2016

Finally, not looking to avoid the subject, I've nothing to report on my siblings. As you predicted when we did your will, everything unfurled exactly as you expected. That said, just as I use to worry about that 911 call you begged me never to make, I've reconciled myself to the fact that the right thing's happened in both scenarios. I will admit, I find it a tad surreal. You know, how we both ultimately kept our dignity. Yours in your choice of how you wanted to die, and mine in life. You'd be proud of how we've risen above it all. We've just kept our course... and let all the other stuff go. 

Well, I guess I should run. We miss you Dad. We miss you a lot... All five of us.

Every. Single. Day.

Love always,

Rhondi

N IS FOR NOVEMBER

As you know, I hop on a plane in late fall with the hopes of getting a head start on coping with our tough Canadian winters. My issue isn't with winter per say, I'm very active outdoors, so once the snow arrives I spend as much of my spare time embracing the white stuff as I can. I don't mind raking the leaves in October nor the sporadic snow fall we receive in December. My issue is with the entire month of November.

Cottage Closing Day
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 1st, 2015

I don't truly hate November, simply because my mother always taught me never to hate anything ...It takes too much energy to hate, she use to say. 

So I'll admit that I strongly dislike the month in general and truly resent the bane of its overall existence. How's that for setting the tone on how I really feel?

There are so many things that happen in November that I truly dread. The cottage gets closed, the days get shorter, the hydro bills get larger and my bank account seems to require life support as all the annual payments come due. It's just a month filled of things I generally dislike.

As I began to write this morning, I realized that the month I am complaining about is aptly named.

NOOOOOOOOOOvember is not not, nor ever will be my friend!

C IS FOR CUP 'O COFFEE

Thankful for my blogging day of rest yesterday, I woke this morning with the intent of cheerfully climbing back on the A-Z blogging bus. Though I tried to do exactly that, I must apologize. I am struggling with my internet connection and ability to post from Sayulita, Mexico.

So, in the spirit of not giving up, I've poured you a cup of coffee. Here's keeping my fingers crossed that I am back on track tomorrow.

So please enjoy... Both my view and your pippng hot coffee. ~ Rhondi

There's nothing like a cup of coffee with an amazing view!
TAKEN: APRIL 4th, 2016

DOCTOR MY EYES

When I was looking through folders within my documents last night, I stumbled along a misplaced folder of phone pictures from my last vacation. As I looked at the picture I am sharing, a couple of things immediately entered my mind.

The fact that I suck at taking selfies of us once again fled to the forefront of my immediate thought process, yet it’s the fact that that I finally have a pic of my husband not wearing his glasses that jumped out at me most. Truth of the matter is that he’s had to wear glasses almost his entire life. That said, for more that a year, he's been telling me that I have an unrealistic attitude toward my own vision and my true eyesight needs.

My MAN... Sporting a smile and his beautiful blue eyes.
TAKEN: DECEMBER 2nd, 2015

It's no big surprise. I’ve known I would eventually need to take the plunge and get fitted with a set of specs. Yet, out of a combination of sheer vanity and stubbornness, I have managed to skillfully allude the local Optometrist.  He teases me about it, though my behaviour is not really dissimilar to his (many years ago) in his cancelling several appointments he'd made to have a vasectomy... He just simply didn’t want to do it!

I’m not sure what my issue is.

When my eyes first began to seriously fail, I just matter a factually marched in and purchased a 32” computer monitor, then proceeded on an intense two year stint of website builds and graphic design. It wasn’t until I started my new job and began working seriously with numbers again, that I realized my eyesight was failing at a more rapid rate than I could've ever imagined.

I know I have options: contacts, progressive lens, 'n all that jazz but I think my attitude leans more toward my true nature. My husband tells me that I shouldn't be surprised that I need glasses, "both your parents and all your siblings wore/wear them," he says.

Guess when all is said and done, I'm simply not them... I am me.

Bad eyesight accessorized, et al. 

THE COMFORT OF BEING ALONE…

Well it looks like my ability to live at Orillia Lake this summer is going to be pretty much non-existent. Though I'm disappointed, I’m okay with it. You see, this time last year I was on a mission. One which was truly difficult to finish yet I’m glad I hung in there and stuck it out. What I know a year later is, that living at the cottage kept me extremely focused on what I was hell bent and fiercely determine to accomplish.

I suppose you could say that it’s the fulfillment of those accomplishments that have me hovering really close to home this summer; having said that, I have slowly realized that something is amiss. For varying reasons, I am struggling to fit in socially. I think after a solid year of being completely and totally anti-social, I’ve discovered I have turned into a bit of a loner. Could it be that my extroversion has moved inward? Like any belly button, could my outtie have done a total 180 in the last year and become an innie?

DOT chillaxin'... Alone in the rain
TAKEN: MAY 16th, 2015

I’m not kidding. My mind most easily justifies my conundrum by equating it to Dottie's behaviour with the other neighbouring dogs on the lake.

While five or six of them run the trail and shore for hours on end, Dot's usually off all by her lonely and extremely content. Now, granted, I’d usually be curled up with a book or movie, while she’s going tree trunk to tree trunk looking for squirrels, I think you get my point. We both find a solid comfort in being alone.

In 2013, 95% of my time was spent face to face with other people. In 2014, 95% of my time was spent alone with a couple of computers and a couple of dogs. Reflections aside, I'm confident that 2015 will somehow be a balance of both years previous. As you know, I've added another pup to the brood, so I'm thinking I may need to seek some outside council on my re-entry into the real world.

First and foremost I suspect it should be from someone that lives for words other than stick, boat, treat & squirrel. Oh, and I'm thinking I may also need a makeover.

Simply because those girlz have been barking some pretty radical hair tips at me lately!