Leafing It Up To You!

What a crazy couple of weeks. In my last two week pay period, I logged about 125 hours and I didn’t work Thanksgiving Monday.  As a result, my husband has taken on more than his fair share of the chores this fall. He did the wood alone, closed the cottage alone, so I promised I'd clear the leaves, alone. 

I love doing the leaves. There’s just one small problem. With the weather as shitty as it is (and me spending the next three out of five weekends in the city) Tony knows he'd get stuck raking them pesky suckers before the snow flies.

This afternoon, I was washing the kitchen floor, when I heard a ruckus next door. As the dogs began freaking out, my curiosity got the best of me. Low and behold there was a couple blowing the neighbours leaves.  Holy doodle they were getting the job done. When I called Tony into the kitchen to check it out, I only had to ask once. "Why don't we just go for it?" 

Standing at the kitchen window watching him beg!
Taken: October 26th, 2013

Quicker that he and I could discuss what the job may be worth, I saw him next door holding out some cash and pleading that they get the hell to our place pronto. It worked.

"We're next on the list" he announced. 

The only time I have ever seen him move that fast, was when Jamie was a baby. Jukebox had finally fallen asleep and we hadn't had been intimate in over a month and a half. 

Seriously, today was a flashback. He was moving Donovan Bailey fast!!

On a sullen note, I'm sad to report that even with that arduous chore checked off our list, there's still so much to do that we won't be dressing up and boarding the party bus to celebrate Halloween tonight. Too bad really, I had a nice little French Maid ditty in my closet all ready to go.

I can't believe the Gardener trumped the sexy Maid. Well, let's all agree. That it's a Gardener... that I didn`t hire, and that doesn't report directly to me!

BAZINGA!

Pedal, Walk, or Run… I’m Having FUN!

Pedalling the Pups in the rain...
Taken: Friday October 4th, 2014

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.

Oh, my 'Quest For My Waist'. What a journey it has been.

Sometimes I wonder how I lost the weight I had gained, but more importantly I never want to forget HOW I gained the pounds I have lost.

It's been almost three years since I started my quest, and I’m still not happy with my shape and size. Then again, I wonder if any woman my age ever really is.

I walk way more than the recommended 10,000 steps a day, I dance a couple of times a week, and I am very outgoing in every other facet of my life. I most definitely 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. 

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!

Call The Cops!

Once again, I arrived home this evening to complete curiosity as my husband yelled “CALL THE COPS!” He sounded convincing as he continued with “...there’s a head in the living room, but they've yet to locate the rest of the body!!”  As he grinned from ear to ear, I knew it was a scene to be seen.

Let's just say it would NOT take Sherlock Holmes to solve this crime. Hell, as stupid as the Holmes in Homes guy is on HGTV, he’d have ‘er solved without even having an exact description of the criminal at large. YUP: the mighty Puddin’ struck again!

You must think we’re total idiots here but I can assure you we are not. We strive to keep our home 'Puddin’ proof' but she just keeps getting the best of us. Seriously, dogs are not supposed to be able to open closet doors (nor large sealed Tupperware totes) but she does. 

Today casualties? Staci’s hair mannequins. I can visualize her running around the house for the entire day, baiting Dot to join in on the fun. I have no idea how she seeks out this shit; she chewed off the corner of the tote lid until she could pull that sucker off. I'm sure she was doing nothing less than an end zone dance 'cause she definitely hit the motherload.

I wouldn't believe half the crap she does if I didn't
see the evidence with my own eyes!
Taken: August 2013

What can I say other than it is what it is.

My sister was amazed at how she got the peanut butter jar out of the pantry in South Carolina, so tonight the picture I am posting is for her. 

Why? Because I wanted to let her know that it happened again! 

Last week Goob left the unopened jar on the counter and this is what I arrived home to. She tried for three days to get to the bottom of the jar.

Figured the least I could do was make her suffer, because I knew her tongue would never reach its desired destination!

As she sleeps at my feet, I am convinced that in all these antics she’s not acting alone.

My husband adamantly disagrees, and refuses to entertain anything other than Puddin’ is evil. I guess he has a point.

Out of fairness, Dot shall remain innocent until proven guilty. Yet, there’s one thing I know for sure...

I’m getting me a stinkin' Nanny Cam!

Good Will Hunting

So, we got Staci moved into her new place today. We came in from the cottage bright and early and with her bed strapped to the roof of the Explorer, we were off and running. I am pleased to report that it went like clockwork. Almost like we'd done it before?!

To help her out, I loaned her a flat screen TV I bought myself a couple of years ago. No big, but as we were staging her room, we realized she didn't have a small table or desk to place it on. Without hesitation I asked my man the obvious question, "wanna go Goodwill hunting?" Asking Tony to go to the Goodwill is like asking him if he wants to watch the Jays from behind home plate; makes him downright warm and fuzzy inside.

I discovered the Goodwill when the twins were babies. My sister in laws sister use to ship me baby clothes her boys had outgrown from Windsor via the bus. I remember Nancy asking me if I needed them. If I hadn't, her sister would have given everything to the Goodwill. I truly remember asking "what's a Goodwill?"

What can I say, with two mortgages and three in diapers, the Goodwill became a much needed and useful resource. I had always shopped at the Salvation Army Thrift Store, but discovering Goodwill was like heading to the big city for a really great shopping spree. Any brand label was always there for the taking, you just had to really take your time to inspect everything. To this day, a couple of times a year we make a day trip of it.

Nothing says Goodwill like the smell. I hate the smell but love the bargains! We found her a gem of a table right away (six bucks) and continued hunting. My mind's been pretty preoccupied as of late, but we still managed to have quite a few laughs.

What a find. Hook me up with Antiques Roadshow!
Taken: August 11, 2013

What can I say, there's nothing like a painted aluminum BEWARE OF HORNY DOG sign to make one bust a gut laughing.

If I hadn't of taken the picture, you probably wouldn't have believed me it existed. There she be. Bright yellow, in perfect condition, only 50 cents and available only at the Goodwill!

Even as I type, Tony is chirpin' me, "I don't care what you think. I still say we shoulda bought it!" Appears he felt it would be a great addition for the cottage.

Seriously? All these years in, if we bought everything at the Goodwill that Tony thought was a deal, I guarantee we'd qualify for a hoarding intervention.

Why? Because my husband likes to collect total crap that is cheap. That's why!

My Friday Night Fix

My morning went off the rails quicker than Charlie Sheen in a crack house. I'm not joking. At every single turn, I found unwanted stress. Not just stub your toe kind of stress, but the big stuff that emotional tsunamis are made of.

"The Lord helps those that help themselves.." my mother always use to say. This time last year, I would have booked an appointment with my Chiropractor to ease my body's tension and stress; nowadays, my needs are very different, so I quickly put my thinking cap on. With tears flowing again after lunch, I knew exactly what I needed to do. I needed to call and book a room.

No one will ever know... I thought. It’s a Friday night in June, there will be no one around. I had this surge of adrenaline, then I closed the office door and made the call before I changed my mind. “I’d like to book a room for right after work” I said. “Are there any available?” They have my credit card on file so there was no need to register. (Who says a small town doesn't have its perks?)

When I arrived, they were extremely accommodating. "Your room is waiting” she said. I closed the door, took off my clothes and looked lovingly at my old and dear friend. I have never been so happy to be in another’s exclusive company in my entire life.

Once I was finished, I left completely satisfied and extremely content. Tonight made me see the light. So much so that on the way out the door and whispered "just so you know... I really do love you... very much.”

My 1st Friday Night Special
Taken: June 7/13

I wish I could have heard those very words uttered back. I have always longed to hear "I love you too"  but not a single word was said. As always, I turned out the lights, closed the door, and headed home. 

Kind of sad really. When will they invent a talking tanning bed that can unconditionally return my love?

What the hell were you thinking?

O Is For... OPTIMISTIC

Let’s just get the white elephant out of the room on this one. I wanted to choose orgasm, yet I didn’t register for adult content so I moved on. Opinionated was a close second, you all know I am so why bother. Orillia Lake is something I've already beaten to death: next? 

Outgoing, I am. Obese, I am not. Offensive, I try. Considered, once; “once was lost, now I'm found” ...Pffft, I’m blocked.

April 17th, 2013 - OPTIMISTIC

I am overwhelmed at work but who gives a crap? I don’t eat organic so that's pretty silly. 

Oh Henry? Oh My God? How about obedient? Don't answer that. BLOCKED!

The object of my affection? The occasional off colour joke? Well, it's never occasional, which leads me to obnoxious.

One-horse, one-sided, old, only, onward? Nope!

Zero. Zip. Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

Officially blocked, I am optimistic one word will come to me by the end of the day. Who says "more isn't necessarily better... sometimes it's just more?" 

Oops. Obviously? That would be me!

She's One Smart Cookie!

So I was sitting in my boss’s office late yesterday afternoon when all of a sudden he realized that one of our busier clients had arrived with guests. Bossman immediately dismissed our meeting and left his office.

After a minute or two, it became apparent that he wasn’t returning anytime soon. What did I do? Naturally, I followed him to find out what all the fuss is about. What can I say? Fuss I did find!

As I walked onto the showroom floor I heard Gary announce “and this is Rhondi…” He then opened his arms, gave me a great big hug and a kiss on the cheek (as he always does) then introduced me to his guests. WOW. All I got was the gentleman's name, and when he grabbed my hand to shake it I melted. The unexpected connection was instant.

I read somewhere that if a man is interested in what a woman has to say; he'll make eye contact for at least eight seconds.

Let's just say that in the non "Joey Tribbiani sense", that rule of thumb time lapse passed, and we had each others attention.

He was American and he had an accent; let's face it, I’m a sucker for an accent but it was more than that. 

It was his personal confidence. 

He wasn’t cocky nor arrogant and he seemed extremely genuine. The kicker; he made me laugh. I don't care who you are. Make me really laugh and you're GOLDEN. Easy on the eyes takes you to PLATINUM! This designer unconditionally offered me both.

Come on, I'm playing... And I am anything but naive.

When it comes to dealing with people, I generally deal with 95% men and 5% women. You have to get up pretty early in the morning to bring something to the pump that I haven't either seen or heard before. Let's just say I have a very effective "this is my space, this is your space" personal boundary in place. For whatever reason, I can spot a player a mile away (as I joke about yesterday and wipe the drool from my chin)!

Why am I reflective? I think because it was a spur of the moment encounter on a particularly good hair day. Right there; I don't know why my opinion of myself rushed to the superficial.

I know for a fact that my "instant chemistry man" was impressed with my intelligence as well as my and sense of humour. How do I know? The dialogue shifted quickly away from the needs of his wealthy client. Not to mention the added bonus of Gary announcing "listen to Rhondi... she's one smart cookie!"

Glass half full? At least he didn't call me a "TART..."

Let's face it, if we listen to Marty on main street, Muskoka is World Famous for those too!

Have a great weekend everyone...

What’s Behind YOUR Fridge?

A couple of weeks ago we got a very sexy new fridge. Actually, we’ve had it for quite awhile, it's just been holding court in the garage for all to see. It seems Canada’s Worst Handyman has been overbooked with public appearances, so the task of installation never got crossed off my list. After a much heated Saturday morning chat (that ended with me bellowing “I am sick and tired looking at that piece of shit”) we established a plan.

In protest; certain kitchen cabinets were removed, others just moved, and a small counter top adjusted. With the opening prepared, out came ye ole fridge. After Bertha was in the middle of the kitchen floor we both looked down to find one lone soldier. It was a wallet size copy of our engagement photo.

Tony had hair and is totally rocking the 'Porn Stash'.
Me? Holy shoulder pads Batman. Nice mullet BTW!!
Taken: December 1st, 1987 

When I flipped over the grungy old pic, my hand writing identified it as just that. It was dated December 1^st, 1987.

As I dusted it off, we both admitted that we remembered the day it taken. I found it amazing that in the midst of all our frustration, we were brought together by a certain moment in time. 

That specific Saturday was the first time in a very long time our gloves were off.

What's the first thing I thought of when I picked up the only soldier under our old fridge?

Poppa reminding me to play nice.

He always was our best mediator!

Oh Those Mike's Milk Days!

So yesterday I was atop the "blah, blah, blah gotta keep moving forward" soapbox and what the hell do I go and do this morning? Climbed into an old High School scrapbook. Where did that find me in an instant? The past! Geeesh, I'm such a Rhondi!

Mike Milk on Manitoba Street
Taken:1982-83ish

As you can imagine my walk down memory lane quickly drifted from my hairstyle and instantly focused on all the young people in my photos. 

Because a lot of them are on my Facebook, I scanned and sent out personal copies. Rhett, Henik, Mike, Allen H and Connie all received copies. Tom, Tim and Allan R have since passed so I just admired those ones fondly.

One person that was a big part
of my High School experience
(to which I have absolutely no idea whatever happened to him) was Andy. 

First and foremost I have to start by saying that the one thing I remember most about Andy was that he hated my mother with a passion and she knew it. Why? Because she felt exactly the same way about him!

Andy R. Working the same shift (as we usually did)
Taken: 1982-83ish

Andy & I met outside the Mike's Milk store on Baysville Rd the first week he moved to town. I remember the day, it was the August before I went into Grade 10. 

We became instant friends and continued working together in the two local stores until the summer I graduated from High School.

I never dated him, because let's face it, I wasn’t allowed. In hindsight though, that's probably why he chased me so hard after high school. Just to piss my mother off! 

Actually, if I remember correctly, we never really connected in that way. Every once and a while throughout 1984 we’d go to the edge but there just wasn’t a single stitch of natural chemistry. Besides, we were best friends, and the thought of it was just really kind of weird. It's a long time ago but I think the friendship came to a close when I started dating Tim. I had dated by now, but Tim was my first true love, and first really serious boyfriend. He was five years my senior.

You know, Andy hasn't crossed my mind in decades, yet I think of Tim all the time. 

We'd never lost touch. In fact, I had chatted with him for about an hour in the grocery store, just three weeks before he passed. I stopped by his grave last spring because some days I find it hard to process that he's gone. Once again proving that life is short.

That said, if anyone happens to run into Andy feel free to tell him I say hello. Oh, and don't forget to mention "that my mother was  REALLY glad the day he left town." I'll bet you fifty bucks he holds his middle finger up to the sky which will immediately be followed by some very severe profanity.

Seriously... She and he shared a strong outspoken bond that way!

Let's just say I completely understand why my
mother never liked him!
Taken: 1984

Puddin’ Up The Christmas Tree

OK Dottie here's the deal...
Stairs to sofa, sofa to stereo, then we hit the mother load.
This tree's goin' DOWN!!!

Hath hell frozen over?

I decided the first week of January this year that I'd never put up another Christmas tree EVER. Let's just run with the fact that if I had to start calling my favorite festive decoration a “Holiday Tree" I was finished. I refused to give into the darn politics of it all! 

As silly as that just sounded, I will recant and admit that I've officially folded like a lawn chair in the festive tree department. Last night, I drug a small 48” fibre optic artificial tree out of storage. I set it up downstairs on the wooden stereo that plays my 78 RPM records. My wee tree is nothing special but it does looks great lit. I haven’t decorated it yet because I knew I would have some "on the fly scenario specific testing" to complete prior (aka Project Christmas Puddin'). 

Puddin' is a great dog she really is, but as a puppy she gets bored easily. As an example in one week alone; she chewed a brand new pair of never worn (to die for) Liz Claiborne shoes, a pair of never worn (comfy) shoes for work, as well as the second pair I bought to replace the first pair consumed.

She gobbled the cords on my straightening iron, my hair diffuser, my laptop, as well as 90% of the items in my makeup bag. Guess I am embarrassed to report that I didn't assess that she was tall enough to cherry pick things off my dresser and the dining room table...but I ultimately fooled a fool. I've installed very tall shelving and began closing my bedroom door every single morning!

Puppy or not I'm glad I decided to put up a tree. I am pleased to report I just moved the project tree in question to nice wooden desk by the laundry room door. Scenario testing complete. Let the decorating begin!

20 Things Real Men Never Say!

1. I think Barry Manilow is one cool dude.

2. No, I don’t want another beer. I have to work tomorrow.

3. Her boobs are just far too big.

4. Sometimes I just want to be held.

5. Sure, I’d love to wear a condom.

6. I have not been to the mall for ages, let’s go shopping and I can hold your purse.

7. Screw Monday Night Football. Let’s watch Dancing With The Stars.

8. It’s late. Put your clothes back on and I’ll take you home.

9. Honey, I’m going to the store, do you need tampons?

10. I know you just blew me, but I need a kiss.

11. I’m sick of beer; give me a large fruit juice with a lemon twist.

12. Great, your Mother is coming to stay with us again.

13. This movie has way too much nudity.

14. I better get rid of these old Playboy magazines. I don’t look at them anymore.

15. Damn, we’re late for church!

16. No, I don’t want to see your sister’s boobs.

17. Put your bra and panties on for Christ’s sake.

18. I wonder if my gorgeous neighbor Tammy knows that her bathroom drapes are open. Maybe I should tell her.

19. No way, you weeded the garden and washed the car last week, it’s my turn now.

20. I understand.

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Dial 1-900-BANTER. No Fees & Only Playful Chat Allowed!

Like most leaders, I spend a good portion of my day on the phone. Some days I actually feel like the telephone receiver is just an added (very fashionable) appendage to my overall ensemble.

That said; does anyone else find it interesting that today’s generation rarely talk on the telephone? They all seem to have one, guess they just have no desire to dial the silly thing. Hey, I’m the first to stand on my soap box and declare “you can’t stop change only manage it” so I'll ask. Do thumbs offer the same emotional reassurance as a pleasant sounding voice? I vote no way José!

To me there's nothing better than a great phone call.  When I hear the other person's genuine tone and candid laughter it's truly invigorating. I really do find comfort knowing that I am helping someone else have a really great day. It's how I feel; there is nothing like laughter and the light hearted banter that generates it.

I love banter period but telephone banter is amazing. It's been my personal experience that great telephone banter is something that is skillfully crafted over time. It develops with ease and grows at a steady pace. In no time, it becomes like second nature and a part of who you are as phone friends.

As an example, I was out of the office this afternoon and one of my clients spoke with my boss. He was calling in to pay a substantial bill and I guess my Bossman was the one that ended up on the other end of the line. When I returned to work, he questioned me about the call and the account. “Is there something you want to tell me” he asked.

When I asked why, he reported that after he thanked my client for his continued business, he was quizzically asked “is that it?” My client then disclosed that “Rhondi never takes my money without saying something sarcastic; I just figured it was company policy!” 

I howled with laughter and reminded my boss that he was awarded my “2011 Favourite Phone Friend Award” yet to me it was a mission accomplished. Great phone friends are extremely rare. 

It's a new year and a brand new award season. 

The absolute front runner for 2012 is a guy who is as quick witted as I and spent his teen summers obsessed with a cottage country Beaver Lumber store.

What can I say? We have really great... "phone". 

Does Lack of Sleep Breed Indifference?

Last week was brutal for me. Don’t get me wrong; my whirlwind adventure was wicked fun, but when I put my plans in place, I never expected to end up so totally worn out. I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve been so exhausted.

As young Darren constantly reminds, I’m ‘approaching my senior years', and he’s absolutely right. I am very much a creature of habit, and lack of sleep for me is more painful than not eating or even being really ill. 

Why so exhausted?

I didn’t sleep Wednesday night (anticipation), little sleep Thursday night (event participation), zero shut eye Friday night (Staci situation), so with my bed calling my name last night, I finally got a great night sleep.

To me, the key to being really well rested, is waking up on my own.

You know what I mean, remain horizontal until you hear your inner self announce 'I've had just about enough of this bed for one day'... (THAT is when I start to think about starting my day.) Honestly? I allow myself that specific luxury about once a year.

Being overtired, always makes me over think. Truth be known, when exhausted, I can easily confuse even the sharpest Mensa candidate!

I'm not proud to admit that when I am cranky I focus on the very finite and totally irrelevant detail. I tend to be dismissive, but most of all, distance myself from any interaction with others. As a full blown extrovert, I completely shut down and become (for lack of a better word) indifferent. 

It’s not complicated, it’s like my mind selectively downplays things, so that I don’t have to deal with the reality at hand. History has proven that this is a reflex for me and it automatically kicks in once I begin breathing through my eyelids!!!

Wash. Rinse. Repeat?

The last weekend in June has my BFF flying into YYZ from Whitehorse. We are going to gather with old friends, I’m gonna introduce him to some new peeps, and I know it’ll go nonstop. After the last five days I only have one word of advice for myself.

AMBIEN… I’m thinking if could be the gift that keeps on giving!

In Search of A Smile….

Not gonna lie, it’s been a rough couple of weeks. Don’t know why, but the fall time change has always kicked the crap out of me. Is it because I know what the next few months will bring? Or is it because my body's telling me it's TIME to eat really fatty comfort foods and hibernate in fuzzy socks and a plethora of really ugly bath robes?

Either way, today was one of those days where more often than not, I found myself in search of my smile. No flashlight, no map, just a mission. So I set my course and my search was on.

I’ve had some pretty hilarious things happen to me over time. Today, to relieve my funk, I asked myself when was the last time I laughed until I cried? (Last time I laughed so hard my face hurt and all those really neat chemicals filled my brain?)

A few instances jumped to mind (Bill’s napkin magic trick, teaching Colleen to ballroom dance) but one really did stand alone. Here goes....

I was working on a cottage project with a customer and from a construction standpoint things went bad fast. He was the perfect customer (and we remain friends) but we were late arriving to site and the more the team did, to more damage was found. Truthfully, his budget was being obliterated in a nano-second.

Knowing we were already on thin ice, I called him on his direct line in Toronto and offered the best opening line I had. “Have I told you how handsome you are?” His response was classic. “Hmmmm…. SOUNDS expensive!” I explained the situation, sent photos and he told me to keep working.

More bad news arrived within the hour and I had to call again. I opened with… “You are soooooo handsome…” and all I heard was “Nooooooooo….” He knew we had to keep going.

Third time his direct line rang only once. He picked up the phone and before I could speak and he said… “I better be fucking ugly!” We both roared. I was howling, he couldn't stop commenting, our friendship was sealed. 

To this day we have remained friends. I've personally been to his cottage and we BBM everyday. He's an important guy (at least he thinks so) but he still makes me laugh and we both tell the story often. It's as simple as that!