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

W IS FOR WONDER

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.)

ZIP-A-DEE-POOOO-DAH

I am excited to share my good news,  which is that I truly had an amazing week away in Mexico. Part in parcel because I went so far out of my comfort zone that I thought I was on a 430 mile Mayan trading exposition to Guatemala; something rarely experienced in my somewhat conservative yet celebrated years to date.

The other side of my spit polished good news coin isn't so great. Unexpectedly, my cell phone went on a kick ass Xel-Ha lazy river ride at the adventure park in Tulum. Bad news is I neglected to provide 'er with a personal flotation device and she drown. (I managed to get her back to Canada. Visitation has been held continually ever since. Funeral service is being held tomorrow morning.)

Would my Blackberry have survived?
TAKEN: DECEMBER 10th, 2017

Ah, those amazing life moments when you believe you might escape a seismic ass kicking, then as the play by play occurs you instinctively know you're absolutely fubar'd.

This instance was one of those after the fact light bulb moments when I felt inclined to ask for a do-over. A simple request to just turn the hands of the clock back a mere 30 minutes. As expected, not an option.

Belly-aching in this particular scenario aside, though I have referenced the term here before, there are very few things in my life I ever wish I could do over. I've accepted my lot, warts and farts, and grown as a person for every single one of them.

I don't know about you but I'm the first one to raise my hand to hold myself accountable and this instance is no different. I had a plan, it failed. My glass half full relates that is was at the expense of a used cell phone I purchased this time last year to help wean me away from the clicking keys of my Blackberry. In the end, I'd pumped far too much cash into repairing it and as a result I never truly bonded with it.

Laugh if you must, but those that truly know me, know that I graduated to a Samsung platform kicking and screaming. Though people would laugh at me for my very serious love affair with my Blackberry, I allowed the android hype to curb my enthusiasm into thinking it was time to rehabilitate my thumbs of the comfort of buttons and go to touch screen technology.

Compromise comes in all shapes and sizes. For years I salivated about jet-set travelling and bought a camping trailer instead. Proving most importantly, that I very rarely overindulge. I bought the phone used to try and understand the technology, and in its final hours I ended up drowning the poor shit. Resigned to the fact that I would just reactivate my old Blackberry Classic, on a whim I made a call to a competitive mobility service provider.

Turns out they gave me a $200 credit towards a new phone and a $300 credit for porting my phone to them from a competitor. So a 2 year contract for the phone I chose was $509. I was in shock. A whooping 9 bucks for a top of the line phone? I made them send me the offer in writing.

So, as I say goodbye to my Samsung 6 Edge tomorrow with an early morning service, I expect my brand spanking new Samsung 8+ to arrive via Purolator mid afternoon. As you can imagine, it will definitely be a day filled with emotion.

As an aside, I'm not sure how I feel about the extra nine bucks it cost me. If I had to pick one word it would have to be 'torn'. Torn because I could have went to a Blackberry PRIV for far less and didn't. Torn because it truly personifies the end of an amazing Blackberry era for me.

Once again reinforcing my mantra... that you can't stop change, only manage it.

WHO'S A RICH GIRL?

On a very last minute whim I went to the local casino last Friday night.

For close to a year, a coworker'd been randomly inviting me to join her so I finally decided to tag along. Not to gamble,  rather to be entertained in the auditorium, the way I have always envisioned the intent; watching one of my favourite bands perform... Styx.

A crazy fun road trip to get there, we pulled in and the valet parked her very sexy SUV. Once inside the lobby, I felt a sudden gush of seasonal sensory overload. So much so, that my brain didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure if I should focus on the festive decorative tribute to Christmas in November,  or the very large volume of varying patrons buzzing about the lobby taking pictures of the tribute to Christmas in November.

My angst was immediately minimized when she proceeded to swiftly check into her complimented suite, where we enjoyed a lovely glass of red wine (or two) then matter-a-factly headed into the casino before the show.

It was quite crowded but nowhere near as loud as I’d remembered. As my french buddy 'Mauve' pulled up a specific machine and began ‘entertaining’ herself, I watched in awe. Quickly on a roll, at points she was up more than the value of a month of my wages.

Hanging low in the tall grass, I carefully sipped a glass of wine, ultimately feeling bad for watching the clock and interrupting her to let her know it was time to proceed to the show. After all, I suspect everything for her was free with their intent being she keeps her butt in a leather chair as long as possible; NOT the folding kind located in the auditorium.

We made it to the show and Styx was fantastic. When it finished we worked our way back toward the great indoors. We stopped and purchased some swag and she went to great lengths to make sure we had our picture taken to commemorate our crazy fun experience. Wandering back into the casino, I asked that she show me the premise on how she chooses a specific machine and how she determines how much to ultimately spend.

Not wanting to be a total stick in the mud, after her sharing her insight, I wandered a couple of rows away to try and hit my groove.

Ready to be completely entertained, I selected my poison carefully. I inserted my twenty dollar bill into the super slick suction pit that I swore was labelled... 'That puppy ain't never coming back.'

After what felt like an nanosecond, I cashed out my dime slot chit before I had lost my entire investment. I couldn't help but smile as I glanced at the focal aspect of my picture showing my take and announcing...

'She's a Rich Girl.'

Here's the skinny.

Though I enthusiastically donated a massive $19.64 toward my evenings entertainment, a couple of days later I realized a much more powerful thought about my out lay of cash, which is.... Your most cherished and valued wealth is  what you invest in great friends. 

Not only a great friend, this cat's a Super Hero.

Seriously... She's a Super Hero and she has a business card to prove it.

Trust me. I've seen it. Twice!

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!

JUST WEED YOUR GARDEN ALREADY!

There are three sure signs that the Lakes are open in Muskoka...

I no longer wear socks, the trilliums in my backyard are in bloom, and I can clock when certain Business folks tug the string on the little tin can I hold up to my ear. They know who they are and they tug with confidence because they know I'll talk them in off the proverbial ledge they've ultimately talked themselves onto! 

WOOHOO... TRILLIUMS = NO SOCKS UNTIL OCTOBER!
TAKEN: MAY 8th, 2015

Keeping that last thought on the table, let's backup to my lovely trilliums.

Though I don't tend my wild flowers (because they're exactly that) I do have somewhat of a green thumb. I love digging into the soil, getting my hands mucky, & building something. Not only that, I have always found it intriguing to watch all the elements work together as a Team for an amazing result.

A little rain, a little sun, a little TLC from yours truly: all very important elements to the success of any growth cycle. Gardens, just like good people, need to be nurtured and ultimately supported. Any garden (no matter how much you love it) when ignored and left unattended, will face some extremely predictable seasonal challenges. 

Hopefully, most reading will correlate the weeds in any garden to the total idiots that gather around a water cooler and decimate solid coworker moral. They are what I consider to be the heartiest weed; borderline poisonous but no matter how much danger they pose, still permitted to freely inhabit the garden. So much so, that one would almost think that the gardener has an innate fear to pull them out and remove them by their roots. 

Just remember, doing the same thing and expecting different results is futile and a waste of good energy. Those weeds will always be a nuscience and your garden will forever suffer until they are dealt with. Glass half full? A freshly weeded garden may appear a tad sparse at first.... Yet it ultimately thrives in the end.

Just offering my two cents and a caveat that I will give change if need be!

476 OF ‘EM LATER… IS IT THE END?

GOOB and his Momma!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 2011

The picture I am sharing today was taken Thanksgiving Sunday in 2011. Goob was home from school for the weekend and I realized (after the fact) that his being away was affecting me more than I was willing to admit. 

Though his twin sister was home every weekend, as an 'official empty nester' I could feel myself unraveling. I can only describe what I was going through as a full blown identity crisis.

So, in an effort to combat the darkness of the process that surrounded me, I started this silly little blog. That was 475 posts ago, with this offering being number 476. That said, the heart of my angst is that I haven’t written in 18 days, which is the longest stretch I have ever gone. I don't think I'm blocked but I do believe I am stuck.

You see, in the last few months, I’ve been taken advantage of, been lied to, and just plain used for an others personal gain. Lately, no matter how many times I look at my keyboard, I just can't find a stitch of humour in any of it. Frankly, it’s all just plain sad. Heartbreaking actually.

As a result, I have to ask myself; what do I do with this silly little outlet I used to use to ensure that my glass half empty didn’t win? Truth is, I’m not sure. I guess the even bigger question is…. Could this be the end of the blogging road for me?

I hope not, as it’s a hobby I enjoy. Though I do feel lately that I am lost in the forest, I realize that I'll have to dig really deep in hopes of finding my way. Here's hoping while wandering about I find and whimsically discover a great group of pine trees, that can show me my way; whilst joining me in solid kick ass rendition of 'Tie a Yellow Ribbon'.

After all, they have to be just as pissed at that old Oak tree, as I am at the gaggle of varying peeps that hoodwinked me, right?

Right!

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!

I'M WITH STUPID...!

Does anyone remember those cheezy ‘I’m with Stupid' t-shirts? They had a big finger that was pointing at the person walking beside them; classic 1970’s. Well, you may not be able to see it by the picture I am posting but my hubby and I are both wearing those shirts. Yup, and the arrows are pointing directly upward toward our chins!

YUP... We're as stupid as they come!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 19th, 2014

After more than three solid hours of snow shoveling today (for the umpteenth day in a row) I have to second guess the next couple of months. Yes-sir-reeee, we could very well be the two stupidest people on the face of the earth!!

Matter a fact, that is a camera hanging around my neck, which is feeling very much like a noose today!

I was so excited for my buddy B over the holidays. He surprised the very beautiful T with an amazing trip to Cancun as a Christmas gift. She’s so excited and I am really excited for them. When declining his invitation to join them, I was confident I could cope in their absence mid February (as it was raining outside as we sipped our Christmas Cheer) on the 28th of December. Afterall, winter had yet to arrive.

Flash forward to the last couple of days in Muskoka...

We're only a week in and today is the first day I regret telling my husband that the snow blower fund could be utilized elsewhere. For crying out loud people... With it being -35C yesterday with the wind chill, and walk to the office today in blowing snow, we seriously need our heads examined!

With another foot of the white stuff expected to fall overnight, I only have two words for all of you (as I look at us with our tanned skin wearing very little clothing) TRIP CENTRAL!

Can February get here fast enough? Nope, definitely not for this cat!

FINALLY …A FORMULA?

It’s truly been a very odd week for me. 

The fact that I was giddy when I spent forty big ones on a natural Christmas tree last weekend left me a little puzzled.  Then, after independently hauling that sucker up the stairs, placing it in the stand without complaining, stopped me in my tracks. Even though I was struggling and frustrated, I still had a skip in my step up all those freaking stairs. It was so bizarre that I simply shrugged the incident off as euphoric delusion. 

Then, I awoke this morning and the mercury barely registered a mere -16C outside. I wasn't pissed off about it; which was in itself questionable. Instead, once I discovered the pre-dawn temperature via my tablet, I simply hauled my ass out of bed. Had there been cameras present, it really would have played out like a bad hair/ugly bathrobe episode of The Twilight Zone. So bizarre, that even Rod Serling would have been complaining about the script on TMZ!

I can’t believe the difference in my seasonal disposition since my amazing jaunt to the Caribbean. We've traveled at Christmas before but this trek was completely different. Since arriving home, my mornings have contained some serious gumption, which I have never experienced at this time of year. I love how rejuvenated I feel. I'm not going to jump up and down on a couch like Tom Cruise... but I just may shave my legs more than once a week!  Can I get a HELL YA?!?!

Enjoying the Pineapple Festival festivities
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 22, 2014

I guess my overall point is that a very old friend once advised me to "travel far enough, to meet yourself.." Who knew that once I'd complete my journey... Everything would be a fifteen minute walk and a five minute drive away.

Here's to officially maintaining rather than sustaining.

...In every single aspect of my life. 

SNORK-A-DOODLE-DOO

I’m the first to put up my hand and admit that I’m a pretty complicated chick. The dead nuts honest truth is that I have a list of things that I am deathly afraid of; and the dark is most definitely number one. It truly took me until my mid-twenties to understand why I'm so afraid of the dark. I  believe it stems from an instilled fear as a child of strange men.

Apparently, I am hardwired to believe that really bad men were lurking in dark corners waiting to steal me away from my family. Now a days, we teach children a “safe word”. In the olden days, you just simply frightened your daughters/children into submission using an overall fear of the unknown. 

My point is that when my 2011 New Year’s resolution of self-discovery began, I made a personal commitment to get back into shape (which would eventually give me the confidence to get the hell outta of an enabling shroud of comfort) and try new and exciting things. My intent was to leave the past in the past; and I must admit, three years later, I've definitely exceeded my personal expectations. 

My very first reverse Selfie.
SEE... I wasn't the only one needing a life jacket!
Taken: NOVEMBER 20th, 2014

My foray into snorkeling happened very unexpectedly. We were with Heidi & Brian in Negril Jamaica (Feb. 2012) and our day trip to Rick’s Café included a snorkeling stop. 

I remember when they announced where we were headed, I was both excited and terrified. I wanted to experience new things but this wasn't something I'd ever considered. All this time later, I'm glad I didn't back down. It made no matter that there wasn't much to see that day, I am still proud that I actually got into the water and persevered.

Well, this week, I actually enjoyed a real snorkeling day trip. (Like I always do, I researched the shit out of what the choices were and went for it.) Upon arriving to the first drop site I noticed people swimming freely in about 20 metres of water. The waves were high and the water rough, so I immediately began to panic. "I need a lifejacket" I blurted. I was literally shaking in my swimsuit.

Once I knew I was going to be offered a safety net I was fine. There was so much to see and so many vibrant colours that my brain wasn't sure which to absorb first. It was like I was floating on a bed of various marine life, yet none of them actually touched my body.

...Ultimately creating another very memorable moment for this somewhat quirky soul.

Yardwork Pre-Nup Anyone?

For years I've joked with my husband that I would have never consented to signing a prenuptial agreement for money; frankly because we didn't have any. That said, I have gone on the record saying “...I SHOULD have signed one specifically addressing yardwork & snow removal!”

Keeping that long standing statement in mind, a month or so ago I posted something on Facebook about my husband making me mow the lawn. My mother in law quickly sent him a terse text message telling him he should be ashamed of himself. He quickly called her back and in loud voice announced “For crying out loud… SHE LIKES DOING IT!” 

EGAD she was long... Took me two days to mow it!!
Taken: August 18th, 2014

He’s right. I do. 

I know I need the exercise (that’s a given) but it's really something more than just that. It's personal time out in the fresh air, in the company of the sun and my very favourite music. The rumble of the mower is simply an added bonus. 

For me, doing the yard work, is like being alone in a beautiful sweaty stinky noisy bubble for a few hours. As silly as that reads, it kinda feels like a mini escape from the realities of my everyday life... That produces a very calm mindset, complimented by the aroma of freshly cut grass.

Then, living at the cottage, I let my chore lapse for over a month. Never had I so blatantly neglected my duties and I knew that completing said chore was going to be brutal. Actually, brutal understates what I had waiting for me. It was excruciating. Almost torturous!

With last winter's snowfall and this summer's rain, you have no idea how grateful I am that I have been able to save enough money to buy my very own snow blower for the coming season. Next up next Spring? Lawn tractor!

Carpe Diem...Is all I have to say!

My Unexpected Record Scratch Moment

I've always found the sound of a needle being dragged across a vinyl record to be one of the most effective sound effects ever. No matter what is happening around you, when you hear that very distinct sound, it’s like time stops.

Errrrrrrrr….. Imagine hearing that sound for a solid three seconds, combined with me shaking my head back and forth quickly in disbelief, for at least the same amount of time. THAT, is what I consider a ‘personal record scratch moment’. I had my very first in years last weekend.

Here's EXACTLY what a personal record scratch moment looks like!
(...Except I wasn't smiling.)
Taken: DECEMBER 2008

I was standing in my kitchen and words were spoken. Words I never thought I’d ever hear again. 

It was like I was immediately jolted to another day and time. It was so long ago that there were covered wagons in the street and my pretty petticoat was covered to up to my knees in mud. 

Seriously, I mean (as an example) why couldn't this defining personal moment whisk me away to a one of those really sexy and erotic times I've dreamt of? You know, the type they always play out for women in the movies?  I'm totally fecking due!

Instead, good ole practical and romantically delusional me, gets transported back to a time of harsh reality. Not gonna lie, I'd take any When Harry Met Sally moment over bamboo shoots underneath my toenails any day!

What have I done about it? Picked myself up and dusted myself off. 

Glass half full?

Maybe my moment didn't have me pass go: Lord knows I didn't collect $100. But... It most certainly DID NOT have me land on Boardwalk, with a hotel on it, and no money in the Bank.

HA! 

Take THAT glass half empty!!!