SNOWMAGEDDON SUCKS

...It is beginning to feel a little lot like Groundhog Day.
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 30th (left)
DECEMBER 1st (right)

These last few days the lake effect snow's hammered the Muskoka region to the core.

White out conditions started early Friday November 29^th,  but by the time guy got home it has slowed, so we decided we would tag team our snow shoveling/blowing efforts first thing in the next morning.

Up bright and early, we discovered the snow was so wet, the blower struggled to move it. With me working the clearing of the decks and stairs, I could only use a small shovel as the saturated weight was simply more than I could manage.

Slowly and steadily we moved snow off the driveway, decks, and doggo trails for the better part of Saturday. By sundown it was a total white out and by 8pm the hydro was out. And it stayed out for more than 14 hours. In all our 22 years here, this is the first time the hospital grid (which we’re on) has been out for more than a few of hours.

By morning we were ready to start again. I boiled water on the BBQ for coffee, then we headed outside. My travel buddy hubby mentioned that he was going to head across the street to get the intel on the neighbourhood blower guy.

In the bitchiest tone ever, I asked why was wasn’t going to fire up old Bessie, “...because the snowblower is an electric start” he replied in the same tone I came at him with. Which was deserved. It was just one of the things you never think of, nor have impacted us previously.

Tired and spent, mid afternoon Sunday brought the sun out and our accumulation to date was about 52 inches.

That said, I have been shoveling though the day today and Bessie our blower is back at it as I type, as we received another good six inch dumping today.

I have always been proud of our efforts to do our yard chores, when everyone else on the street has hired help. It has sort of been a badge of honour.

That said, I now understand first hand the reason why pride is classified a deadly sin. 

Because without our old Bessie, this specific 2024 storm front feels like (if we would have had to deal with it old school)…. It might have killed us!

MY HEARTBROKEN SMILE

As life would have it, my hair began to grey prematurely in the late 1990’s. As a result, I would book an appointment and off to the popular high priced salon I’d go.

Then, when I went into business for myself in 2004, I began doing my own root touch ups to spare the expense. The trouble with that, is that for the last decade it has become an ‘every third Sunday afternoon’ ritual.

I will openly admit that during the pandemic, I came very close (multiple times) to growing the chemicals out of my hair, then would ultimately fold like a lawn chair and get the touch up brush out.

As a matter of fact, if I am being brutally honest, though my mindset for going grey was always there, it just wasn’t as strong as my inner voice of vanity and personal pride not to.

Well, a couple of weeks ago, I went to get my haircut. Granted, it had been a while, but my stylist was generally worried about the state of my already dead hair that was forever entertaining the grim reaper; so I launched the 'next steps' dialogue.

Well, at the end of my workday Friday, a two-hour ritual to begin my transition was set in motion.

This is what a heartbroken smile looks like.
Stood next to the dark wood siding to cut the glare.
(Yep, my eyes are closed.. because even I couldn't stand to look!)
TAKEN: MAY 5TH,  2023

Though I am certain I was specific that I wanted to take a year to transition, and our starting point would be a warm caramel shade, the one mixing the bleach personally decided full on blonde (with white clumps - you can see the frizz on the right) was the way to go.

Suffice it to say, when she finished, I cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. My husband, the wonderful man he is, quickly and quietly hid!

With tears streaming down my face, I went home to my personal salon, plugged in my gadgets, and took a half a can of coloured root touch up spray to the white hair that framed my face. Then, freshened up my make-up and forced myself to go outside and take the selfie I am sharing here.

As you can see, my eyes are closed. It wasn't intentional, yet I am posting it because I suspect subconsciously I couldn’t stand to look at what I had just done to my already dead mane.

Well, as I have said here before, I will say again. You can’t stop change, only manage it.

Though my stylist did offer for me to return the following day and add low lights to offset, I turned her down. Not only did I not want to incur any more expense, but I also didn’t want to add anything else to my already dead and overbleached coif.

Instead, I decided to wait until after I've returned from the Caribbean in a couple of weeks and see where the sun and salt from snorkeling have my hair colour and I landing.

BUT if last Friday night were any indication, I would say there are going a couple of bars in Jamaica that are going to meet a blonde woman crying in her glass of spirits, with a man quietly hiding under the table sipping a beer.

Then again, maybe not. It’s not like anyone knows me there. 

Because hell... When I looked at myself in the mirror again this morning, I still didn't recognize the person looking back!!

#YaGottLaughAboutIt

W IS FOR WORDLE

 

Each day I Wordle as I sip my morning coffee.
... and Quordle while I eat my lunch.

When I started my new job everyone in the office was talking about this thing called “Wordle”.

I’d never heard of it, but I had seen a flood of yellow, green, and black square emojis flash across my Facebook timeline. Always cautious of click bate, I never gave it a second through. That was until my entire new crew seemed obsessed with it.

For the first week, I listened to try and understand what the point was. Limited to just one game a day, you have six chances to guess a five-letter word. Each time you hit enter to register your guess, each letter turns a different colour.

Black means the letter isn’t in the word at all. Yellow means the letter is in the word but in the wrong spot. Green means you have the right letter in the right spot.

I haven’t been playing long, but I seem to Wordle in just three guesses quite regularly. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have also burned through my six guesses just as easily.

All in all… Just a really great way to start the day.

OLD BESSIE AND ME

An Alberta Clipper passed though Muskoka and old Bessie rose to the occasion!

TAKEN: FEBRUARY 19th, 2022

Like everyone else in Muskoka, we woke up Saturday morning and couldn’t see across the street. 

After a pot of hot coffee and the blizzard subsiding, my hubby began to bundle up and I immediately followed his mid-morning motivational moves. We headed out together, to tackle the hellish 13+ inches of the white stuff that had arrived; express, via Alberta.

Though I have always complained about winter in general, when it comes right down to it, I've always enjoyed shoveling snow.  You can move quite a lot of the crap with a snow scoop and prior us inheriting old Bessie, snow was always moved the old fashion way – with sheer determination and hard work. 

For the record, Bessie came to us a few years back as a gift from our buddy Myler. To accurately describe her, I would have to say she’s a lot like me. Older in nature yet has a lot of spunk and life left in her!

Just like me, she may struggle some days to get going - but at the end of it all she keeps going and going until the task at hand is completed... And this past Saturday played out exactly like that for all of us.

I started by shoveling the decks and around the front of the garage while Bessie and my man hit the long driveway straights. Boy, there was a lot of snow to move. About halfway through them making a dent in the driveway drifts, it was my turn to drive the Bess-Monster.

To give you a visual, this old girl is heavy as a tank (not that I’m not that too…) and directly under the driveway snow, was a sheet of ice from top to bottom.

 

I did OK heading uphill, as the blower motor did most of the work and I positioned my feet as if I was climbing uphill on cross country skis. Coming back down was another story. I just gripped the handles and focused on staying standing up as if I were snowboarding. 

Trust me, gliding down the driveway ice behind Bessie was far easier and safer than trying to walk. All I could think to myself was thank goodness for my figure skating point of balance and my elementary school super slider snow skate experience. In one word… WICKED!

After hubby and I tagged team off again and he headed back toward the top of the drive, I held up my phone and snapped our photo. What I am sharing is exactly what I captured, and there are a couple of things I love which this photo illustrates.

Firstly, that teamwork really does make the dream work.. AND, that I absolutely LOVE that the blowing snow hides my Saturday morning big ass bedhead, as well as the fact that I am not wearing any makeup. 

What can I say?

...Except our old girl Bessie brings out the absolute best in me!

A SNACK BRACKET

My very favourite client was in the office last week and he said to me… “Rhondi, just like you, I’ve had Covid-19.”

We burst out laughing after he continued with, “At the end of all of this, I’m not sure if it will end up being nineteen pounds, or nineteen kilograms!” 

I don’t know about you, but as an emotional eater, I can generally peg the time of year when circus music begins to chime in my ear signaling me to buy stock in the most profitable potato chip company. And I can assure you, every fall, any and all are generously sampled; as part of my annual stock purchase evaluation.

What can I say. I was a fat toddler. I was power fed homogenized milk, and in those days the perception was the fatter the better. The good news is I shed that baby fat, the bad news is those formed fat cells follow you forever.

I have always been athletic and outgoing but when perimenopause clicked in everything changed. My body absorbed food differently and in one year my metabolism changed exponentially. It was in that moment I knew I was being put to pasture.

Kicking and screaming and the better part of a year later, I lost the excess weight and changed my lifestyle. That was in 2012.

Even with a major change in lifestyle, winters and my seasonal affective disorder in this harsh tundra have me pulling my gravy crutch out of the hall closet bringing the five or ten pound of weight gain that accompany it. The good news is those extra pounds were always shed before I ever had to appear in any sort of summer shorts or swimming outfit. 

This year? We locked down. I filled up. The rest is history!

I want to shed the pounds I’ve gained yet I am a creature of habit. 

If gravy has a crutch, my philosophy that if I share with the pups I am really only taking in 1/3 of the calories must be a motorized wheelchair. One chip for each of you, one chip for me. One jelly bean for each of you, one jelly bean for me; and trust me, I am always fair in the distribution department.

I guess you could say that the only way the dogs keep the upper paw on me is because they don't have to share their dog cookies with me. Though I must say, on occasion the label on the front of the box has made it cross my mind.

Not gonna lie.... Those gravy covered Milk Bone dog biscuits definitely land within my mid-winter snack bracket!!

#yagottalaughaboutit

It would appear that Annie and I have similar snackage struggles
TAKEN: AUGUST 7th, 2020

NEVER LOSE HOPE

I don’t know about you, but I am one step away from being downright giddy that there’s only a handful of sleeps until the upcoming holiday break. Frankly, I feel I am bordering upon exhausted; but pleased to report that I am managing far better than initially thought in the seasonal affective department.

Not gonna lie, I am NOT going to miss 2018. It was a bit of an emotional roller coaster that ended up with me hitting an all time low the middle of May. If it wasn’t for the Sweenymeister talking me off a ledge or two, my life would be drastically different than it is today. So, as you can imagine, I am very grateful to have her in my life. 

Anyway, as you may or may not recall, I apprehensively posted (in real time) about a weekend jaunt to Cuba I took with my daughter in 2017. I disclosed that I'd never had any desire to visit the island but when the need for a 4 day jolt of vitamin D called it became the obvious choice. We booked, kept our fingers crossed, and had a blast.

On our first morning there, I heard a familiar voice tell her party by the pool, 'I know those people!" 

Low and behold, we ran into this lady & her husband, that I use to babysit for when I was a teen. An EPIC holy shit moment at its best.

As I share this photo of us from 2017, I will also share that she and I have been chatting about the islands' recovery since Irma decimated it, and that I have decided to go back. The resort has been completely rebuilt, and you know what they say, the second time's a charm.

Quick photo with our Muskoka friend before heading to catch our night flight back home.
No hair. No Makeup. No worries!!
Memories Flamenco Beach Resort - Cayo Coco, Cuba.
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 13th, 2018

The second time's a charm. I was thinking about that very thought before I began to write tonight.

Taking any chance in life is never easy, so most don't do it twice. Well, my year has proven to me that I am most certainly NOT a once bitten twice shy kinda gal. I have proven to myself that I will push myself harder than most, simply because I know what success feels like.

In turn, some will call me a bitch. To which I will gladly counter and describe myself as focused. Reminding all, that our most important & valuable life experiences happen in real time and never happen on a beach.

Except this time. This coming February. In Cuba!!

WOOT.

“We are the sum total of our experiences. Those experiences - be they positive or negative - make us the person we are, at any given point in our lives. And, like a flowing river, those same experiences, and those yet to come, continue to influence and reshape the person we are, and the person we become. None of us are the same as we were yesterday, nor will be tomorrow.” ~ B.J. Neblett

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?

MY NEVERENDING QUEST

I don’t know about you, but I've a very challenging and volatile relationship with my aging metabolism. Trust me when I admit that I wasn't even remotely prepared for what midlife did to a woman’s body but will go on the record stating this: It friggin’ sucks!

My rant extinguished, I should say that my weight issue started the winter after my father passed in 2005. Over the next several years, I was in complete and utter denial that I was managing my internal turmoil by self-medicating with food. It took a serious weight gain and a personal commitment from within to regain a much needed balance. I had to dig really deep to rid my body of the processed food toxins that had taken over.

How did I do it? I saw myself in a family photo during the Christmas break of 2011. I was in shock. It was in that very instant that I made a commitment to get my life & my body back on track. Having never done so before, I made (and kept) a New Year’s resolution and on December 31st, 2011 (which is when my quest for my waist officially began).

Let's face it. I only know a very small handful of women my age that are happy with their shape and my theory is simple. Menopause blows, big time. I suppose I could spend the money on liposuction to rid the evidence that I gave birth to 3 children, instead I wear clothes that are generally flattering to my shape, while spending my savings on travelling as much as my work life allows. 

Soaking up the sun in Cabo!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 28th, 2015

That said, though I'm generally comfortable in the skin I’m in, my upcoming vacation has me tentative for the first time since my quest began. This time last year, I could easily look at myself in my full length mirror, feeling as good about my shape as my disposition would allow.  

This year, not so much. Over the last 12 months I’ve put on some ‘stress weight’ that I am having a tough time shaking. It’s not the type of stress I experienced 10 years ago, more the ‘there aren’t enough hours in a day’ stress; which ultimately opens the door for bad food choices, creating even more stress.

Anyway, as I am officially on my vacation countdown, I tend to daydream more regularly than I normally would. When I wander off, I can feel the hot ocean sun on my face and embrace the serenity of my cellphone being locked in the safe.  The other side of that coin is that I also tend to have the odd nightmare as the time draws closer too. You know the type? When you swear the resort ice cream dispenser is calling your name, or when the resort breakfast station chef asks you how you'd like your eggs? 

I think my time stresses are depleted enough that I can stay away from the ice cream machine but my biggest challenge will present itself when I am asked how I like my eggs.

I keep reassuring myself, that I will not respond how I am truly feeling.

Which is..."I prefer my eggs... IN A CHOCOLATE CAKE!”

Thanks for listening & wish me luck. My waist is gonna need it. 

I, SPY, WITH MY ONE GOOD EYE...

I believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. A personal affirmation of what one truly sees, feels and appreciates for themselves. Those thoughts are theirs to cherish as they see fit, as any perceptions of beauty are ultimately personal.

As you know, for the last number of years, everything's become a great big blur in my everyday life. Tired of the strain and frustration, I bit the bullet, picked up the phone and finally went for an eye exam after work today.

If my pic looks remotely blurry, call for an eye exam!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 10th, 2015

Though it had been a while since I was last checked for specs, it felt nice to know I was still a valued client. Considering how some approach business in Muskoka, I was a tad surprised by the aforementioned but even more impressed when my Optometrist made a point of welcoming me back. 

Truth is, I didn't think he'd even remembered my name and imagine my surprise when he causally asked..."Do you have any idea when the last time was you were in to see me?"

I guessed but was wrong. I was off by a couple of years. Off the top of my head I predicted 30 years. He confirmed it had been mere 28! 

No matter how many decades had passed, I obviously knew who he was. He, on the other hand, hadn't a clue who'd booked his 5pm appointment. I was nervous, as this was something I truly didn't want to do, and was convinced by the time I left, he thought I was a complete and total loon. (The good news is, everyone reading already knows I'm a loon, so we'll label the good doc hyper-instinctive, and move on.)

After he emailed me some very sexy pictures of my eyeballs, he explained my prescription, and we were done. He mentioned that he'd like me to return in a year. Then, without missing a beat, he said... "So I'll see you next year, or sometime in the next 28!" 

We laughed and I thanked him for his time.

After I left, I did have one question. Why didn't he try and sell me a pair of glasses? 

My guess is that I paid $125.00 for my appointment today and that's the only cash flow he'd seen from me in 336 months. As we all know in Business, time is money. So, in his world, does that make me a tire kicker?

Here's hoping he'll be generally empathetic and labels me..."optically challenged."

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. 

HAIR’s THE DEAL!

With all the things I have in my life moving at the speed of sound, I decided last week that I finally needed to deal with my hair. As you know, my locks are the complete and total bane of my existence. For what it's worth, my hair brings to mind the 15 year old cat living on the back of Granny's sofa: it simply does what the HELL it wants!

Rant extinguished, I'll continue.

With a change in my look being front of mind, this week was the very first time I'd ever taken before and after pics when it came to getting my hair cut. It wasn’t a ‘selfie’ thing, more so as a market research type of approach to satisfy an inner curiosity. I wanted to ask people that I share all my pics with (the good, the bad, the ugly) their opinion. In essence, was my hair that bad, or should I just leave it be?!

My chosen panel, was of four. All familiar with my personality and all familiar with my Blog, they still gave me their dead nuts honest opinions. The first admitted, without any hesitation, that I looked like a hag & most definitely needed a complete and total makeover. The second questioned my sanity for even wanting to touch my locks with a pair of scissors, which was understandable based on the case they made and the big words they used. The third deemed me lucky for having options: you see, he’s bald and his core goal this time of year is to NOT get a sun burn. The fourth was obviously opinion of my husband.

Hair today... Gone tomorrow.
TAKEN: JUNE 1st & 2nd, 2015

He knew I was heading to see my hair Guru, we'd chatted about it. But, when I carefully reminded him at bedtime that he hadn’t noticed that I’d gotten my hair cut, he didn’t miss a beat. “Never noticed that I trimmed my eyebrows yesterday morning,” he said. “So I guess we’re even!”

The fact that I could immediately reply "so sad that you neglected to trim both your nose and ear hair at the same time..." had us both laughing. 

That scenario is how you truly spend more than half your life with another.

Simply keep the other laughing!

MY REALITY CHECK BOUNCED!

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t think I have experienced a smear of what the majority of  the successful people I went through High School with have. I’m not complaining. I chose to return home to care for my Mother, as well as get married and start a family at a young age. Nope, no apologies here; much more importantly no regrets.

Working at the Mike's Mart downtown the winter before I left for school.
TAKEN: March 1984

Out of a sad set of circumstances, I came face to face with one of my closest high school friends today. We had only seen each other once (at a wedding) since graduating. Suffice is to say, seeing each other after all this time was a tad surreal. 

Once he noticed me, he instantly made his way through a crowd of people to wrap his arms around me, greeting me with a very heart felt hug. Though glad he'd remembered me, I immediately felt myself in uncharted waters. You see, I simply couldn't identify with the person that was standing in front of me.

It might be because I don’t think I have really changed. Sure, I’ve evolved but I think the core of my personality is still the same. I guess I am just disappointed that I can’t say the same for the person whose locker was a “do you need a ride home” holler away.

Makes no matter. We're never going to see each other again. Which is clearly my loss, based on how he focused on chatting about his financial success. Though I'm happy for him, I really did want to stop him and point out that it doesn't take much money to have it better than a gal that loves living in a Town where everything is a five minute drive and a fifteen minute walk away. Didn't bother, I just told told 'em to 'take care' and went on my merry way.

Guess today proved to me... once and for all... that I have missed yet another boat. 

At my age, here's hoping the next one that happens along is wheelchair accessible!

♫♪♫ DOCTOR, MY EYES... ♪♫♪

Today was a very enjoyable hump day for me. Pleased to report that I toddled in and brainstormed with Pete, then SJ landed and took it to the next level. I semi-worked a lot and sang aloud a little. Guess I am just simply elated that today has rated as something other than a deeply frozen February day!

Aside from my good humour, when I was hunkered down first thing this morning, it produced an official “AH-HA” moment for me. Today it became undeniably apparent that I have to get prescription spectacles. I don’t want to, yet I know it’s time. Being unable to read my laptop screen this morning made me realize that my hours in front of the computer have taken a toll and it's time to pay the piper!

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN
(...to listen to one of my very favorite Jackson Browne songs)
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 18th, 2015

Vanity aside, I have a 27” computer screen at home and it probably sits closer to my face than it should. Glass half full? I never have to use my Dollar Store magnifying glasses (pictured left) when I am working in front of it.

That said, today when I was trying to work from my laptop, it was like trying to read the fine print on a small tube of hemorrhoid cream. The inability, simply offered zero relief to the pain in my ass!

Anyway, I think I'm so conditioned to pushing myself through challenges that I never stop & wonder how much easier it might be with a little help. Why so? Who the hell knows... All I know is that I am squinting like at bandit trying to finish this post (and if it weren't for my happy light and my eyelashes creating shadows, I wouldn't be able to read what I am typing).

After such a great day, all I can say is here's hoping that I don't have to wear the bottom of a couple of pop bottles, welded to a set of heavy duty wire rim fence frames.

Pfft.... Whatever. At least I have half a chance in making those suckers seem fashionable!

HERE's THE SCOOP...

PEEPS... Meet my winter BFF!
TAKEN: JANUARY 10th, 2015

As I mentioned in my last post, this past week has been brutal for l'il ole me in the snow removal department. 

When I woke up yesterday morning, the plow had passed twice in the night and the snow bank at the end of the driveway was more than four feet high. Armed with my trusty scoop, I bundled up and headed out. When I got out there, I was simply gobsmacked. 

NEVER, in all the years that we’ve owned this home, have I ever had to tackle a bank that big. The hardest part was that I literally had no place to put the friggin' crap.

So, I ended up having to cart all of it across the street and load it into the ditch. The worst part was, because there had been so very much accumulation, I had to make some major scoop trails in order to make room for the snow I was moving. Suffice is to say, by the time I finished yesterday, my arms felt like they each weighed a ton.

After a hot bath last night, I woke up this morning feeling like a million bucks!

Got the laundry done, groceries done and had a solid plan to build the annual 'dog trails' with my snowshoes before I put supper on. Well, let me tell ya something. Once I got going, that million dollar feeling I woke up to this morn, turned into a $1.99 K-Mart blue light special!

About 45 minutes in I started to head down the hill toward the railway tracks. Thirty feet in from the top of the yard, I hit (what felt like) an air pocket. Down I went. The worst part was I was facing downhill and the snow had me immobilized. I was totally FUBAR’d!

I called for my husband, nothing.  My arms felt so heavy I could barely support myself. I kept stepping on my snowshoes and I could feel the muscles in my legs straining. With three dogs trying to help by jumping on my back, I just let all my muscles relax and started laughing. I am very pleased to report, that I eventually regrouped and got myself back up the hill.

You’d have to think that the worst part of the last couple of days was that my legs now feel as heavy as my arms; that’s not it. The worst part is that three neighbours offered to loan me their snowblower yesterday morning as I dug out of that stinking snowbank. 

My response to all of them? “No thank you, I really do like the exercise...” 

The worst part... is that I am a complete and total idiot for not saying ... "Yes, please!" 

I suck!

M IS FOR MENOPAUSE

I read somewhere that the first sign of menopause is a broken thermostat. 

Could that be why my hydro bills are through the roof? Just my luck, not only are they over billing me for my hydro, the jerks have placed a delivery charge on my hot flashes… DAFT PRICKS!

Over and over, since I began writing this silly blog, I have conceded that nothing could have ever prepared me for midlife. 

As I struggled to pick my M word, I discovered that there are a lot of life changing words for women starting with the letter M (and they are kind of chronological).

Words like menstruation, marriage, motherhood, midlife and menopause, all fall in cycle, surrounded by another M word... MEN.

Which leads us to the most famous ‘Mmm-Mmm’ reason why 99% of all women my age buy copious amounts of high test Duracell battery stock…. 

MONEY MANAGEMENT!

What the hell were you thinking?

Hairy Scary Mid Life!

I was talking on the phone with my new boss last week and he decided it was best to review an analysis I had completed face to face rather than over the phone. When he asked what my timing was (on when I'd arrive at the office) I think he was a little taken a back by the lapse. Guess now he knows what I thought was pretty much common knowledge in these neck of the woods. When it comes to my public appearance, I am definitely high maintenance.

No hair. No makeup
It is what it is...
Taken August 3rd, 2013

It's not because I wear a bunch of make-up, designer clothes, and jewellery; matter a fact, it's far worse than materialism. It's my hair. It's always been the bain of my existence.

You THINK that I have a mind of my own? Triple that thought and you are encroaching of the daily behaviour of my head of hair!

It's been completely grey for about a decade and I am embarrassed at the monthly investment I have had to make to ensure it conforms. The odd time I nail it. You know, when all the stars align and it submits, deciding to coif properly.

When it goes rogue? People burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter... and rightfully so.

The honest truth is that I remember the day I stopped asking my husband how my hair looked. It was the day he responded “Are you serious Rhondi? That's a harder question for me to answer than ‘do I look fat in this outfit’!”

Which brings me to my weight. Why does it feel (at this stage of my life) that maintaining my shape is an even bigger challenge than taming my hair? I don’t mean to whine. It's just that in trying on clothes for my upcoming trip yesterday, certain things became a very harsh reality. Once I stop exercising, everything shifts, and not in my favour.

Disappointed with my clothing exercise, my husband gently reassured me that he loves me and thinks I am beautiful. To cheer me up he asked me if I wanted to play naked Yahtzee. When I thanked him for making me laugh, he paused and innocently whispered into my ear "how about a round of naked Twister then?” 

Oh, my, goodness! With that right there, I'm certain my three grown children just died of embarrassment!!!

Chillax chitlins .... YA GOTTA LAUGH ABOUT IT

My Silly Little Hang Up

So it happened again.

“WOW, you don’t look 48” a business colleague said. Jerk!

Do men not realize that age may be a sensitive subject for some women? I don’t know about other women but for this cat, it’s like entering the sketchiest area of Detroit during a riot. 

DON'T go there!

Just like 99.9% of the people I know, I have a couple of quirky hang ups. I hate being late, I hate not having a plan, and I hate that I am getting old (them right thar are pretty much my top three)! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not asking Services Ontario for a wheelchair parking sticker anytime soon, but I would love not to have to dye my hair EVER again.

I am of the firm opinion that age is a mindset; you’re only as old as you feel, and as young as your imagination will allow. It’s a number, not a gauge of who I am.  I am active in both mind and body, and I don’t see either of 'em stopping anytime soon. Why would they? Why should they?

What did I say to the person that assessed who I was based on the number 48? “It’s been nice meeting you. You’re 45 right?... Ya don’t look a day over 58 1/2. Oh, and the deliveries? They are at the rear!”

That’s what I wanted to say. Instead, I just turned down his very generous lunch invitation. The loss is his.

What can I say? Us gray haired mamas gotta have some very high standards!

Time Flies When You're Having Fun!

Last night was my Class of 1983 High School reunion. It’s not like it was some well thought out highfalutin Gala, it was planned via Facebook out of Raleigh North Carolina. There was never an expectation that thousands would land in droves; which is a good thing, because this is a really small town.

Don’t kid yourself. We had a blast. My feet are still sore today. We laughed, we sang, and we reminisced. The local paper showed up to take our picture, and a great time was had by all. A humongous hug and kiss to our dear friend Doug for all his efforts. Without his driving force, it would have never happened. 

As I sit here after the fact, I am unexpectedly reflective. On just how life is continually evolving, then in an instant you can be in the comfort of company you had no idea that you'd sincerely missed. That said, the big ah-ha for me last night was the lapse of time.

I don’t feel like it all happened to us thirty years ago but it did. I saw people I see in town once a week, and I hugged people that I thought for sure wouldn't remember my name. I got BBM messages this morning from people that had to work today, not to mention an email from someone asking me to go to tea in two weeks. Last night felt like time had stood still. 

That's Tina in the back with me.
Linda owns the amazing blue eyes and
Connie the great smile.
Tammy & Belinda - you were really missed!

Taken: May 11th, 2013

I honestly hadn’t seen Tina in thirty years. Watching her and Linda get Connie cranked up was like I was in a time warp.

I had some serious tears in my eyes I was laughing so hard! Poor Connie.

My added bonus for her? Connie and I promised each other we would “dance our asses off” and we did!

Sorry folks; I have to stop typing now and go find my ass.

Nope, not Tony. Nope, not Connie. My other ass. The one attached to my very tired legs & equally exhausted feet!

PS: I promise to post the group pic once I get a copy from my friend Bev. Cheers!

"Rap" It Up & Charge It A$AP!

As scheduled, I headed down to the Harbourfront yesterday afternoon clutching my Rihanna ticket in one hand and a five hour energy drink in the other. I had worked in the morning and as expected got out of town late. 

Adding icing to the already late cake, I landed in the hotel only to discover that it was apparent the concert giver was going to keep us waiting. Not a big deal for most. But I am old. What can I say? My bedtime is my bedtime and that's the way I like it.

Pushing through the pouting and keeping a positive outlook we arrived at the ACC as the gates opened. Snapping a picture of Staci at the Gate 5 Jumbotron, I immediately realized that I had left my camera memory card in the laptop back at the hotel. 

Leaving my sidekick at The Real Sportsbar  I started to run. In really shitty weather (and in two and a half inch heels on concrete) I put Forrest Gump to shame. That's a lie. The only thing going through my head was "don't fall Baby... you'll break a hip." Feck! A half an hour later, I arrived back where I'd originally started. 

Into the ACC we go to find our seats and wander around for about an hour and a half before A$AP Rocky took the stage. We both enjoyed the opening act. I'm not sure why we're all "bitches and hoes" but apparently "p*ssy & money" combined with "weed" makes a generation all the better. Joking aside; the lad had talent. It was my first mainstream Rap experience and I was impressed; enjoyed his entire set. 

When the house lights came up, Staci and I made our way to each other once again. Her stage left seat was so good she'd made a video for her brother. As a result, we had to get her phone to a charging zone station pronto.

Staccs & I hanging in the Rogers Charging Zone
Taken: March 18th, 2013
Rihanna Concert w/ A$AP Rocky (ACC)

As the ACC emptied into the lobby, line ups were fierce. As Staci held a space in line, I was on the run again. 

With her iPhone in hand I was on the move. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, check every charging station to the left of you" I said.

"It means I have found a shorter line!". Turns out I had done just that.

I had found a shorter line as well as a handsome bloke to chat along side while waiting. 

Because his phone wasn't entirely dead, he let me charge Staci's phone before his own. I really do think that if you exude positive energy (and standup comedic relief) people tend to gravitate toward you. When Staci arrived I introduced them; together we all proceeded to wait.

Over an hour from starting our quest we were headed to our seats for the main event. As expected, Rihanna brought down the house. In turn I spent the next hour and a half dancing my ass off in a two by two foot square in front of a folding chair in the 20th row.

Awesome night! Great show, yummy late night food, and I am pleased to report I am NOT in the need of a hip replacement anytime soon. I do have some serious shin splints from all the running in the wrong footwear. Oh, and only one regret...

I can't believe I didn't get the name of the nice guy that put Staci's phone on the charger before his own. Thanks Dude... it really was greatly appreciated!