A IS FOR APRIL A-Z

No hair. No Makeup. Just good clean fun.
BOY I miss that!!
Taken: OCTOBER 2017

A IS FOR APRIL A-Z: 

A crazy month, that will

Push me to

Rejuvenate Rhondi,

Inspire others and 

Laugh a lot.

It’s that time of year again, when I look inward and ponder if want to torture myself with the annual April A-Z Blogging Challenge. Well, apparently, I decided today that I do. 

Truth of the matter is that I miss writing AND I miss my super silly electronic journal. Not because people read it, more because after Christmas I began emotionally eating rather than venting (in a somewhat comedic fashion) via my computer keyboard; then posting here.

That simple shift was epic for me, leaving the majority of the items in my closet hiding out with all my odd dryer socks, terrified to be chosen as a part of my morning dressing ritual. 

Anyway, as we venture into this coming month of 2020, where social distancing has become the new norm, I think I'll have a thing or two to say.  Not to bitch or vent (intentionally), more to help others cope, offering a sprinkle of humour and hopefully a side order of sarcasm and wit.

Hang in there peeps. This is the 8th time we've taken this journey together, and my advice to you hasn't changed.

Keep your hands and feet in the ride at all times!

O IS FOR OPTION

My 2019 April A-Z Blogging Challenge posts will primarily consist of words & corresponding quotes.

(...With the odd opinionated electronic journal entry inserted to keep you on your toes.)

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!

SHE IS TEN DIGITS DARKER

A change is as good as a rest!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 15th, 2017

It’s that time of year again.

You know, when the days get shorter and (just like my mindset)  considerably darker.

Though the fall's truly my very favourite season, for next couple of months I'll literally start placing an X on the calendar every morning until December 21st arrives; which marks the shortest day of the year.

Once I get through that 355th day on the 2017 Gregorian calendar, my mindset, mood and overall outlook on life, instinctively improve knowing the days will be getting longer.

Anyway, this past weekend I was running my personal errands and one was to get product for my ‘every three weeks like clockwork root touch up to my' completely gray hair. I hate the high maintenance aspect of the ritual but the payoff for me is that I don’t feel I look as old as I truly am.

As I loaded up my basket with a bottle of my perfume and and the couple of skincare items I live by, I headed to the hair colour aisle. My regular colour (which is more of a stain, and contains very few chemicals) was sold out.

Convinced that the melanin deficient peeps were buying up my #55 colour just to piss me off, I realized I was at a crossroads. Go looking elsewhere and not get the great sale price, or change my hair colour. Because they say a change is as good as a rest, I went an unbelievable 10 digits darker. Walking the wild side of extreme hair colourization I went from a #55 to a #65. *Gasp*

A big deal to me, as expected, no one even remotely noticed; which made no matter as I got ready for work in the dark this morn. All the lights on, the radio cranked and my hair diffuser getting it's job done, I couldn't help but giggle to myself.

It was in that moment that I realized that by going 10 digits darker on the hair colour front, I would have to be more diligent in making sure my silver roots were kept covered up. All I could say to myself was... Bring it on!

For the first time in the decades I have been dealing with seasonal affective disorder, I was going to be taking charge of my darkness.

And it seems I have my new bestfriend #65 to personally high five for that!!

How's that for a glass half full?

SHE JUST SCORED 20 MORE

This past week, my sister in law posted to her Facebook page that our local Habitat Restore was closing. Via her share, they even apologized for the inconvenience. 

As all my long standing readers know, I am regular there (as well as every other Restore from Barrie to North Bay). Anyway, it turns out it was only closed for the day which was ultimately a huge relief.

When we were there last Saturday, we ran into couple we've been friends with for years. Aside from discussing how it took extra long for our nests to actually empty, the conversation also touched on the glasses I collect. 

I was somewhat sad when I admitted that my ongoing fear's that they're coming to the Restore, Value Villages and Salvation Army stores via estates of elderly folks that hung onto them the way my parents did. Even though I have about 6 dozen, I admitted out loud for the first time that I figured I'd eventually no longer be able to find them; but I will always continue to search.

Because I spent today working on e-filing 2016 income tax, I didn't make it to the ReStore. After I finished the terrible tax deed, I decided to plug Petro Canada Olympic glasses into Google just for fun and multiple Kijiji sites replied to my search.

Because they come in all shapes and sizes and I only collect one style, it took me a while to sift through everything. Then I hit the mother-load: 20 glasses for 5 bucks in Mississauga. The piese de la resistance was that she wanted to sell them as a set and they were originals from the 1988 Calgary Olympics.

I stared at my screen, then decided that I was OK with the price. Though I generally only pay twenty cents a piece at the ReStore, I am willing to pay a whopping twenty five cents on the black market. (Seriously, that last sentence made me laugh because I'd probably willingly have paid 5 bucks a piece.)

I have to share that this past week when the thread on my Facebook had everyone feeding me intel on why the Restore had closed, one specific response was absolutely and unequivocally perfect. My cousins' explanation as to why the store was closed was short and to the point. It simply read, "...they probably ran out of glasses!" 

As I filed our taxes today, then trolled around the online black market for my glasses, I couldn't help but think how my kids might feel at the reading of my will. 

I can assure them that it won't be anything long and drawn out and I suspect may sound something like this: Your mother loved you all very much. She is leaving you (which is to be divided equally and without prejudice) 15,472 Petro Canada glasses and the balance of her bank account.... which is a total of $0.53 cents.

What? Travelling to pick them suckers up all over the country would've been expensive!!

This was the last time I scored... Thanks Habitat ReStore (in Huntsville, Ontario).
TAKEN: OCTOBER 16th, 2016

FROM THE CHEAP SEATS

Boy, I hate to be blind-sided. It doesn’t happen very often but when it does, I always try to truly understand what the hell happened. When hit on the blind side, I immediately ask myself these two questions. Do I stand up for myself and explain? Or, do I take it up the ying-yang and file away the specifics (in this instance, discovering someone's two faced) for future reference? Friday, to ultimately keep the peace, I chose the latter. 

Not gonna lie, the entire incident still has me frazzled. My metaphoric ying-yang took it so bad, that it reminded me of the joke of the old farmer and his wife. You know the one, where he's telling all the other farmers what a romantic guy he can be. Boasting to be such a generous lover that he always utters those three special words to his wife before he makes love to her. His loving words were always... “Brace yourself Gertie!”

Yup, I was poor Gert last Friday and there wasn’t a tube of lube anywhere in sight. The official result of a two-faced blindside. The monster that had roared at me 24 hours earlier, was no longer the bully but the victim. I never saw it coming but reading their words showed me their experience of being in our exact scenario. 

Still brewing from the fact that I folded like a lawnchair, I was stuck. So I sent a BBM message to my buddy A-Rod this afternoon is search of a bit of a reality check. I knew by reaching out, my tale of two faces would not land on deaf ears, and he'd tell me if I was being an idiot. (You see, he takes the gold medal for having dealt with the village idiot for years, so I truly value his opinion.) 

As expected, by the time I left to go home today he’d helped me see the light. Which is that an idiot can’t help themselves. They ultimately have an overwhelming amount of IDIOT in their overall genetic make up. In a nutshell, an idiot is who they are and what they will always remain.

Rhondi Rule #782: Never argue with an idiot. They'll just lower you down to their level, then beat you with experience! 

Truth? Not following my exact advice last Thursday morning is why I was blind-sided.

...Sucks to be right!

I CAN'T BEARwear IT ANYMORE

Have you ever heard the story about the man that was absolutely and unequivocally in love with his favourite shirt? You know the one, where he gets so attached that he actually beams when he wears it? So much so,  that when his buddies ask... “Did you just get laid?” He automatically and very proudly boasts... “Nah, it’s the shirt!”

Now you're up to speed on me and my relationship with my Muskoka Bear Wear hats. Those puppies (no pun intended) have been everywhere with me. The pic I am sharing today is one I tweeted last November. It was my fave and it saved me from a sunstroke while on vacation in the Caribbean.

It's not only protected me from nasty UV rays, it's shot amazing rounds of golf, fashionably saved me from embarrassment when I didn’t have time to colour my roots, not to mention the fit WAS so gosh darn comfy!

The BEFORE & AFTER of my favourite hat.
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 2014 & JUNE 2015

That’s right, past tense. No point in crying over spilled milk, or in this instance a favourite hat that has been decimated.

When I first found the brim of my beloved chapeau chewed to shit, I was upset. Then, I calmed down and realized the obvious. Though a larger in stature flat coat retriever, Annie is still just a very young pup. A toddler, for lack of a better reference.

As I watched my hat get carried around the yard (seems she’s become as attached to that sucker as I was) I had to laugh. The only difference between how she & a real toddler would play with my hat is that the child would simply gum it to a slow death. I'd have thrown it into the dishwasher and been no worse for the wear.

When it comes to Annie, I'll be picking up pieces of pink until the snow flies!

Serves me right for being the 'Crazy Dog Lady'….!

GOTTA JUST RIP THE BAND-AID OFF!

It’s that time of year again, when the end of day rolls around and you discover that you haven’t eaten any lunch. Though I was lucky enough to slip away mid afternoon for a cup of coffee with a friend, after a great conversation, I once again found clarity that some things are better tackled like quickly pulling off a Band-Aid. I guess for me, once that specific decision is made, swift n' quick seems much more effective than pulling each individual hair out of your arm over a three day period. For what it’s worth, let’s just call me an efficient thinker and move on.

DOINK... WAS THE NOISE MADE WHEN I HIT MY HEAD!
TAKEN: MAY 9th, 2015

Sitting here typing away, I don’t know why I find certain things so much harder to process than others. For a gal with a good lot of common sense, I can be pretty friggin' stupid. 

Look at my pic. Can you see the ladder? Because on a day like today I simply couldn’t see it staring me in the face until I hit my head against it. Guess a good knock on the head offers most people some level of clarity: right?

Who the hell am I kidding? I knew it was there, I knew it could ultimately be there for me and helpful, yet I just couldn’t see it. I guess if I were being honest, more importantly, I'll admit I didn’t want to see it. Because at the end of the day, I have some serious trust issues.

This time last year I had a colleague in Business totally screw me over. Took my work, pawned it off as their own and then didn’t pay me what they say they would. Actually, kept my money for their own gain. The bigger part was that instead of correcting their wrong, they continually asked for my forgiveness, claiming they didn’t know any better. They'd known first hand what I'd been through, yet still chose to use me for their gain and came back to the pump for forgiveness and I expect more of my knowledge.

I guess if there is a moral to my story is to always listen to the signs. Know who the players are, and if you’re told you aren't one, believe it and get something in writing. Don’t invest your time and energy on anything that in the end is only destine to crash and burn and leave you bitter.

Speaking of burning, thank goodness for the smoke detectors.

'Cause of my rambling... Dinner was a tad crispy tonight!

J IS FOR JUNK

As someone that loves a great yard sale in the Spring, I can totally relate to the saying “one lads junk is another ones treasure.”  In the case of the shoreline and streets here, the volume of junk on display is almost unbearable.

I won’t belabour my point except to mention that I chose this destination for a couple of reasons and access to the four kilometer “Bridge To Nowhere” that’s attached to the resort was something I thought would complement my stay nicely. I was wrong. Strewn with garbage and the smell of skunk I turned around and never returned. 

I understand that the culture here is different than it is in Canada and I fully understand that this is a third work country... but for the sake of the marine ecosystem, clean up the freakin' junk!

Worse yet? I originally took this photo because I thought there may be a story as to how long it had been there as well as how the ship originally wrecked. There’s a story there alright. There’s someone living on it! 

CONDO FOR ONE... Samana style!
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2015

I couldn't believe my eyes. I wanted to suggest to him that he needed to find himself a Realtor and upgrade but I didn't want to get his hopes up. You see, his current home doesn't have much curb appeal. 

Maybe I should suggest a couple (50) dozen garbage bags and a gaggle of shovels to start?

Just sayin’!

WE’VE BEEN ROBBED…. AGAIN!

The picture I am sharing today was the one the Bank took in December of 1999 when they appraised our cottage on Orillia Lake. All these years later, though the landscape has changed, that photo is still pinned on the fridge with a magnet. As you know, this neat little haven has served us well as a family.

That very first winter we spent many enjoyable days there, yet didn’t spend the night until the snow was totally melted in the spring of 2000. About three weekends into full-time enjoyment, we arrived that Friday night to the realization that we’d been robbed. I remember feeling a tad scared, not to mention really fecking mad! How the hell could someone be so self-serving?

The structure remains the same... But the landscape has definitely changed.
TAKEN: DECEMBER 1999 

Well, this week I discovered we’ve been robbed out there again. This time, by Hydro One!

As you all know, I obsess about my Lakeland Power bill for the home in town. That said, all these years later, I have never really bothered to take a good look at the cottage hydro bill. 

So, when I opened the current bill for $158.36, I thought my Christmas cottage romp was generally pretty affordable. Then, I started to think about it; I only used three small 110 volt heaters and barbecued (mostly) because it was so mild. It was then, I decided to really look at it. The bill was for the last three month billing period,  ending December 25th.

Last fall, in the 90 billing days, I used a total $14.03 in hydro and none of it was in On-Peak time. Keeping the HST,  their debt retirement out and grabbing my bullshit Clean Energy Benefit... 897% of my bill was delivery!

I'm an open minded gal but nothing pisses me off more than getting truly screwed and no one buying me a drink first. Wait, could that be what my Clean Energy Benefit credit is for? A drink, so that I can get up the nerve to pay my bill? Hell, the value of that is so small, I wouldn't even be able to fill a thimble with rubbing alcohol. Whatever, all I can do at this point is express my frustration. So here's a visual...

All you need to do is imagine me cheering. Imagine that you can hear my voice enthusiastically saying "I'm your number one fan Hydro One... I'm your number ONE fan Hydro One..." really loudly and over and over again.

Now, picture me waving my extremely outstretch middle finger, whilst gloriously chanting it!

Ya Gotta Laugh About It...!!

O CROOKED TREE! O CROOKED TREE!

About a week ago I blogged about struggling to put up the Christmas tree. The bigger shock was that I was generally proud that I didn’t snap during the process. As you all know, I’m not an over the top ‘Tis the Season kinda gal. However, because I’ve had a really great splash of sun and I am still wearing a perma-smile, I decided to go on the record admitting that I'm a tad more tolerant of the upcoming festive season than in previous years.

Then, all hell broke loose. I was venting to my friends on Facebook about this crooked tree I bought. Hang on, let me grab the post. Here you go. It read: OK. I bought the Christmas Tree from HELL. If it falls over one more time, I'm gonna go all Grinch on it and fire it into the gully, never to be rescued or decorated ever again! ...This concludes my Christmas rant at this time. Cheers! Suffice is to say it engaged us in a plethora of comical rant of comments. 

Love may make our house a home....
But this crooked tree is making it hard for me to not turn it into firewood!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 18th, 2014

Well, guess what? 

The stinkin' thing fell over again! 

Did I go all Grinch on it and pitch it in the gully? Nooooo.

Why? Because it's Christmas dang nab it; and I love the look of a Christmas tree all lit up and pretty after dark. 

Anyway, as I was explaining my plight to an electronic friend today, I immediately got a smart ass email asking why I didn't secure it after the second time it fell? Aside from the fact that this specific lad has been crossed off my Christmas card list, here's the deal...

I'm a pretty bright girl and this is a tree. Isn't the normal assumption that they tend grow relatively straight and not on an 80 degree angle? Exactly! I simply figured it was my incompetence rather than a genetic imperfection that was making this puppy fall. At the end of the day, I think I have gravity under control.

What the hell... it's not rocket science is it? Of course not. If it were, I'd be applying Polysporin to the exposed knots on the trunk of the tree and grabbing a set of booster cables to give those Christmas lights an extra boost.

Don't ask... Just smile. Trust me on this one.

IS FAIRNESS TOO MUCH TO ASK?

I had a couple of meetings this morning. In my second, a colleague and I were chatting about a High School friend that dropped dead of a massive heart attack on Hallowe'en night.  After reminiscing about how amazing he was, we realized that it had been almost fifteen years since we’d lost him. After that realization, she and I just sat there speechless. Even today, I remember his laugh like I heard it yesterday.

Why so glum, chum? In less than a week I have received enough personal bad news to last me the rest of my life. Three people that I love with all of my heart have fallen unexpectedly ill; and, an indescribable tragedy claimed the life of our thirteen year old nephew. All of it, simply sad and so terribly unfair.

With Taylor laid to rest, instinct has me wanting to help all the others but I'm not entirely sure how I can. It's hard to explain, each of them are so close, yet so far. I'm sitting here typing feeling a little helpless. Yes, you've read that right, the consummate problem solver doesn't have a solution. It's painfully heartbreaking.

Every single one of the three I am speaking of have contributed to who I am today and ALL have provided life lessons. Admittedly, some of their lessons took a little longer to resonate than others, but none of them ever stopped teaching, nor ever gave up on me. I love them all very much and in a nutshell my life would suck without them in it!

As I quietly type and reflect, I can't help but be reminded of one very obvious fact. That life as we know it isn't always fair. 

...Doesn't mean a wouldn't gladly beg borrow or steal a little fairness tonight if I could.

Once again, thanks for listening.

...I GOTSTA A BOOTY CALL!

This time last year I was the happiest I’d been in my personal life in a very long time.

Everything at home was tickety-boo and I was surrounded by a couple of amazing folks that unconditionally supported me leaving the best job I’d ever had. Even today, reminiscing about their support and friendship keeps me totally content that I've made the right decision in starting over.

I've processed some of my worst moments in this chair.
TAKEN: September 23, 2014

Now that you’re all warm and fuzzy inside, here’s the zinger. Yesterday, the external hard drive (that I consider my daily life line) died. 

Like any death, I am feeling completely alone.

I've never thought of myself as a work-a-holic, I've always preferred focused; that was until I sat at my desk this morning & realized exactly what I had to rebuild. Like any death, it’s absolutely heartbreaking.

In order to self-preserve I have always looked to humour. After getting off the phone with one of my two above mention faves I felt better. They listened to me cry but also heard me laugh. Their work ethic gives me the strength to push through and hearing their voice reminded me I’m not alone.

I haven’t spoken nor emailed my other fave. He knows who he is. Always the class clown, he’s forever rationalizing any negative thing in life by equating it to sex.  My best guess is that he would probably playfully remind be that yesterday was nothing other than a really HOT Booty Call. 

Truth? I wasn't ready to hear what he had to say when I asked why LIFE wanted to screw me so bad... Guess it's because I know he would have had me in tears with laughter and I'm honestly not quite ready for that yet.

NOTE TO SELF: Call him first thing tomorrow!

At Least My Hippo Is Happy!

I woke up this morning and just stayed in bed listening to the rain. It’s started to pour last night about dusk and this morning the humidity level makes everything feel sticky. Not the good kinda maple syrup sticky; but the ‘I need to take a shower every fifteen minutes’ icky sticky.

It’s eerily quiet. If I didn't know any better I’d think that someone slipped my pups a couple of Quaaludes when I wasn't looking. Cranky and bored, I finally rustled up the energy to haul my ass out of bed and clicked the coffee maker on. It normally doesn't bother me to be out here alone but this morning I am feeling lonely. 

Anyway, with a scowl on my face and my coffee in hand, I went outside in the rain and looked down at the landing. With a terse and somewhat condescending tone, I immediately asked my buddy the obvious question of the day. ‘What the hell are you smilin' about?” 

Then I burst into laughter. I've officially reduced myself to taking to my floating Hippo!

This is Harold the Hippo and he's always happy!
Taken: July 20th, 2014

Isn’t he cute? My son and his bestie found him a float in the rain on Canada Day. 

I must admit, I was so excited when they approached the dock with him following behind. To be fair, I've left him on full display in case his rightful five year old owner came a calling but so far my elevated picnic table has remained his home.

I think he likes it there because he can’t stop smiling. See, the day isn’t a total bust. At least my hippo is happy. I think I’ll officially name him Harold. I wonder if he’s hungry? Get it? ♪♫♪ Hungry, Hungry Hippos… Hungry, Hungry Hippos ♪♫♪  (It really is one of the best board games every invented.)

Maybe I'll wander down and eat my breakfast in front of him and let some of his good nature rub off on me on this super shitty Sunday.

Ya Gotta Laugh About It...!!

My Personal Cottage Screen Saver!

I had a great weekend. I swam, sunbathed, read, did my chores and completely decompressed: and, for the first time in I don’t know how many years, I watched the sun rise this morning.

I’d like to say it was all romantic and Jane Austen like (you know, how beautiful it was when Mr. Darcy arrived at dawn to pledge his love for Miss Elizabeth)… but it wasn't. Truth of the matter is I was thirsty and had to pee but was too lazy to get up. So, I stayed in bed as long as I possibly could. That specific time lapse of endurance just happened to be the exact amount of time it took for the sun to rise.

As I was listening to the birds and watching the day awake, I couldn't help but notice that the patio screen door looked like it was moving. It kinda reminded me of how movies use to illustrate a radical 70's acid trip. The brighter it got outside, the more the screen seemed to move. Worried that it was my bladder playing tricks on me, I got up to discover my virtual screen saver. 

The True Meat Eaters Of Muskoka!
TAKEN: June 23rd, 2014

WOWZA... There were a shit load of mosquitoes on that sucker. 

Big ones, small ones, slim ones, tall ones. I'm sure they'd traveled for metres  at the hopes of making their way inside to my ample blood supply. (Trust me, my cell phone pic doesn't illustrate the quantity, just the size of the ones that were as big as hummingirds!)

Which totally quantifies one of my own personal philosophies about working hard, persistence, & getting results.

If you think you're too small to make an impact, try going back to sleep when there's a single mosquito in your bedroom.

Ya Gotta Bitch... I mean LAUGH About It....!

Q IS FOR QUESTION

Q: WHY IS COMMON SENSE NOT SO COMMON?

A:

F IS FOR FINALLY

I’m not a superstitious person by nature but today is April the 7th and I almost gave my chosen word a second thought for fear of jinxing my optimism as well as the long range forecast.

For the last couple days, the mercury has risen above zero and the sun is starting to finally melt the godforsaken snow. I am pleased to report that we hit our expected high of 9C here today (that's a balmy 48F for all of my American friends). So, it's with some serious trepidation, I admit I have some hope.

Hope, that the snow might finally be gone, before May the first!

Havin' a beer and finally catching some rays!
TAKEN: April 6th, 2014

Just to prove that I'm not feeding you a line of bull, I snapped my husband's picture around three o'clock yesterday afternoon. 

As we finished our weekend chores, we decided to soak up a bit of the sun. 

Thanks to a lot of elbow grease, our front deck had been rid of ice and snow since last weekend. I had prepared myself for my husband to rant, telling me the sun would eventually melt it. Then, verbalizing my passionate rebuttal, explaining why I'd finally had enough. 

Every year I do the rid the ice exercise (both here and at our cottage) and every year my husband tells me 'I need to get my head examined...' Actually, every year, before this year.

This year, he grabbed a shovel and helped move the large pieces of ice and snow, as I hammered them loose with the back of a splitting ax.

I guess you can say, for the first year ever... He'd FINALLY had enough!

The Inevitable Happened...

Whenever I'm stressed I flee in search of something I refer to as ‘snackage’. Wine gums are my favourite but I've never met a Toblerone bar I didn't like. With website deadlines looming around me, I got up from my desk and went on a mission.

Flash forward fifteen minutes. With the store counter loaded up with more than twenty eight dollars in junk food the inevitable happened. I ended up face to face with a previous customer: a great guy and an amazing builder. I knew from the instant our eyes met he was going to want to discuss my career change, which frankly is something I have readily avoided since the day I left my previous employ.

"Once you feel you know everything...
You're incapable of change." ~ ME

I must admit, though my employment lane has changed, I was truly saddened as my friend continued to express his frustrations. When he finally verbalized that he was no longer going to do business with my former company, I was both saddened and disheartened. 

I told him that I was sorry and that I think of my old boss every single day."You were a great team" was his response.

The Bossman (as I so lovingly called him) may have signed my pay cheque but my encounter with his customer proved that he was never really my boss. My boss was the amazing builder standing in front of me.

Truth of the matter is... "There is only one boss. The customer. And they can fire anyone in the company from the Chairman on down, simply by spending his money somewhere else.” ~ Sam Walton. 

And THAT BOSS told me he’d 'Donald Trumped' the Team I was once so very proud of leading. 

Not gonna lie, after I left him I cried. Not because I felt responsible for him leaving, nor because I could hear my old Bossman's voice hailing it all unacceptable. It was much bigger than that. My tears flowed because...

The sheer thought of what he was describing to me was just really very sad.

This Seat Is Officially Taken!

In high school I was teased incessantly.

It was never like a scene from Mean Girls where I’d walk around the cafeteria with my tray and the kids would slide there arses together chanting this spot is taken, because I always got along with everyone. BUT, through high school, I was loving known as Rhondi  St. Bernard. A reference to my being a dog. What can I say: tit’s always did the talking and I didn't have any!!

I’m not sharing that last tidbit for any other reason other than to emphasise that teens can be cruel. Even more to the point this evening, so can adults. An adult backed into a corner with fear makes high school antics look silly. A full grown ego threatened can be a ruthless thing.

My Momma made me this sweater  & took this very pic!
(For sentimental reasons I still have both.)
Taken: November 1983

Small town minds breed small town thinking. Empowered over time they're really quite damaging. Truth of the matter is that in day to day business there isn't an ‘in crowd’. 

Great success breeds opportunity. It's truly that black and white. 

You're either successful or you’re not: the numbers speak for themselves.

You can't ever stop change, only manage it. A full blown tail spin and daily fear mongering isn't what I would personally consider good management.

On that note, I know you're on the outside looking in but as you circle with your tray I have to say 'this seat is taken'. It's not because it's my intention to be mean or exclusive. Rather, everyday (just like my entire Team) I eat my lunch at my desk. You know the seat. Where you keep your head down, your mouth shut and you focus on results.

It's OK. Feel free to pat me on the head and wish me luck. It's a small town. After all, everyone under a rock knows that for the last decade all I've ever done is smile and answer the phone. So, I can completely understand, why you would speak about me that way.

YUP... Big Girl Panties were in fact worn for the production of this post!!

SWISH was the sound... Nothing but NET... Was what she chirped.

Three Of Thee... Plus Me!

Today was one of those days that I could NOT have planned... even if I tried.

I spoke with my quirky sidekick from Nashville (twice), my zany bench friend for almost an hour, and had an unexpected face to face meeting with my favourite consultant. All three are men. All three are very important to me. Not just because we're friends but because we all function easily at a high level in business.

If you're an avid reader, you know I have been kinda stuck in a rut since late August. Wanting relief, I decided to look to my personal panel of three for input. ALL three understand both my good and bad qualities, and all three know me well enough to know that they can be totally honest because I completely trust them.

No wonder I have always been obsessed with my hair!
Taken: December 24th, 1969

So here's the deal...

For as long as I can remember I've been very comfortable in the presence of other people.

One of my earliest memories is of me step dancing in my Dad's parents tiny livingroom.

As my Pepere stomped his foot and played his fiddle, all hands were clapping, and the positive accolades my bounty.

All these years later, I can actually close my eyes and be in that moment. I can still feel the energy in that room. Hard work equated to reward, it was a simple as that. Point in case, from a very young age, I have always tried my best.

Genetically hardwired? Who knows, who cares. Much to my dismay, lately I've adopted an "I don't give a rats ass attitude" for the very first time in my life; and, for the last couple of months I haven't given a 120% every single day. 

This afternoon my confused mindset came to a screeching halt. By the time I arrived home, I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. Not because I had dealt with my reality at hand but because my tightly knit group of three confirmed what I have suspected for months.

Question: Nice slippers eh? What do you mean you can't take your eyes off that sexy lamp behind me?!

MADE YA LOOK!