A VERY MEMORABLE NOVEMBER

As you're well aware, when the kids left for post-secondary school, I entered into a time of self-discovery with a mindset that I wanted to enjoy things I'd never had the luxury (with three children born two years apart) to a textbook middle-class Canadian couple. Concerts to me, became like designer shoes to Carrie Bradshaw: a 'must have'.

Packing only a Visa card
& my cellphone... 
I headed down St.Charles

into Old Montreal.

TAKEN: November 8th, 2013

So, as I have Marty McFly & Doc Brown rollback the DeLorean time travel dial, we arrive on Thursday November 6th, 2013.

My and I husband ventured into Toronto mid-day the see the History of the Eagles concert, that I swear I'd waited since 1976 to see. I had purchased the bucket list tickets the winter before and my highlight was that I was able to get some killer photos from the second row.

Anyway, still reeling from the excitement, the next morning we rose and enjoyed breakfast together, then my husband dropped me off at the airport in Toronto. I met a girlfriend coming in from Muskoka and we hopped a plane to Montreal.

The shortest flight I've ever taken was the perfect build up to one of the most exciting weekends I have ever experienced. We were hitting up Montreal to see Bon Jovi perform that Saturday night.

You see, my girlfriend won the tickets on a local radio station and her +1 cancelled on her less than a week before. Just as I would have, she headed on to her Facebook feed to see who could juggle their life last minute and get on a plane with her the following Thursday. I won!

To this day, I am so grateful for her taking me that weekend. That five day run of excitement was literally a wonderful once in a lifetime experience. That said, for a number of reasons, that very weekend in Montreal changed me as a person, not to mention how I've looked at life in general since.

After years of unconditional personal and financial support, a person close to me (on the receiving end of my charity) angrily 'unfriended me' when she discovered that I'd traveled from Toronto to la belle 'je me souviens' province at a whirlwind pace. Her reasoning? Because I'd given my second Eagles ticket to my husband and not her, then didn't take her to Montreal. 

Had she'd been civil at the time, she would have realized that 50% of what I have belongs to my husband, then discovered that it was my very generous friend that invited me to join her. All the latter cost me was the fee to put the West Jest ticket into my name. I was simply the invitee, never the inviter.

Which brings me to my point. Once a greedy person, always a greedy person. The more they get, the more they want. So, how did my very memorable November weekend in Montreal change me?

It made me realize (once the shock and hurt eventually passed) that the other washing their hands of me was the single biggest cost saving myself and my family have ever been blessed to receive.

The other side to my almost five year later coin toss (leap of faith, and/or possible lapse in judgement) is that though I've decided to allow her a peek back in, my doing so comes with an honest warning... that is plain and simple.

I may always try and forgive, yet I most certainly will never forget.

Wish us luck!

I'LL ALWAYS SAVE A SPOT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nameste.

YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peeps, that right thar is gosh darn truth!

HAIR TODAY. GONE TOMORROW.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My response... “Hopefully, never!”

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

LIFE LESSON #997

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One, that some things are meant to be.

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

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

...Ba-dum-bump 

Z IS FOR ZEN

The quieter you become.... the more you can hear. ~ Anonymous 

T IS FOR THERMOMETER

SPRING HAS SPRUNG!
Never underestimate to force of snow coming off a steep steel roof.
The kitchen window thermometer is busted and so is the side deck at the cottage (again).
Poor thing. She reads 32C when it's only 10C.
Wait, could she simply be having a hot flash?!
#yagottalaughaboutit
TAKEN: APRIL 21st, 2018

G IS FOR GIGGLE

Oh, the power of social media, and just one way to give back!
TAKEN: March 17th & March 19th, 2018

The morning of St. Patrick's Day, I text my daughter and asked her if she wanted to join me for lunch. As expected, she said yes. It was originally just to be the two of us but right before I left the house, my husband decided to come with. I was a tad surprised, because he awoke that morning feeling under the weather.

Short story long, when we arrived at the restaurant I snapped their picture and posted it onto my personal social media platform. As soon as I did, the comments started to roll in with regards to the general lack of enthusiasm on is face. Going with the flow, I decided to let the thread of discussion ensue.

Well, when he arrived at work the following Monday all hell broke loose. No matter where he turned he was being asked why he had a great big bug up his ass!

Because I had no feel for what kind of day he'd had, I was a tad surprised when he picked me up at my carpool stop and asked if anyone had mention the picture I had posted from our lunch the previous Saturday. I started naming names of the instigators, then thought nothing else of it. UNTIL... we arrived at my daughters work and he grabbed her and immediately asked me to take their picture.

I'm laughing just writing about it. Look at my goof... Making a point for all to see.

Ya gotta GIGGLE... I mean laugh about it!

MADE YOUR APPOINTMENT YET?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

... You're freaking worth it!

MY BEAUTIFUL MIDLIFE BLANKET

I was texting back and forth yesterday morning with a trusted confidant and we began reminiscing about the summer of 2012. For a number of varying reasons we cheerfully remember that time, most importantly because it was the very first time I’d lived alone at the cottage & commuted to work since its purchase in 1999. In hindsight, I guess you can say that was the summer I officially learned to sew; simply because that summer was the first time I'd ever invested in mending... me.

It’s not like I was broken per se, more to the point that when the twins left for post secondary school in September of 2011, I felt a sense that my life was unraveling. The point being, when the nest empties I don’t think anyone can truly get to know themselves (what they want, nor what they need as a newly independent person) until they make the effort to try and figure it out. Midlife gave me the one thing I’d never had the luxury of before: time.

All these years later, I realize that nothing truly prepares us for midlife. And when that phase crept into my peripheral vision, I honestly would not have classified myself as unhappy. More elated, embracing a feeling of euphoria because I no longer had to focus on everyone around me, and could finally get to focus on my own needs.

It was in that moment, that I looked in the mirror and realized that I had no idea who I was. I remember my immediate assessment on the outside was that I was overweight, yet on the inside I realized I was resentful for being underappreciated. That very harsh personal reality hit like a ton of bricks… and trust me, I did NOT see it coming.

So, as things in my life began to quickly unfurl, I took matters into my own hands. I don’t know what I would have done without my very best girlfriend. She was a lifesaver. She had already survived something similar, so she was my beacon. Thank goodness I didn’t have to pay CJ for all of her hugs and words of support, I would have gone bankrupt!

The summer of 2012. Puddin' was just a wee pup and Dot got to spend extra paddle time alone with me!
TAKEN: JUNE, JULY & AUGUST 2012

The point of my post is that I don't dwell on that time and I have no regrets. I made some big personal moves, learned how to live my life on my terms, and over the eighteen months that followed suffered gut-wrenching heartache I don’t wish on anyone else to have to experience. At the end of the day, I came out the other side more vibrant and exceedingly more comfortable with the skin I’m in. If you’re in my life it’s because you deserve to be, if you’re not, you ultimately know & understand why.

Owning who you are is a lot harder than you may think. For years I just folded like a lawn chair until I would explode with frustration. Now a days, I wholeheartedly own what I want and openly communicate where I’m going: with no regrets.

A wise man once told me that life experiences are the threads that all have a part in our final blanket, which is very true. The other side of that coin is, who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

I taught myself to sew a beautiful midlife blanket six years ago... Didn’t I ?!

SOME ADVICE TO LIVE BY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's that simple.

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

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

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

Cheers to 2018 ~ Rhondi 

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?

THE POWER OF THREE

I remember posting a meme a couple of years ago to my personal Facebook page that read: 'Who ever said diamonds are a girl’s best friend never had a dog'. Outside my pups (and being someone that deals with copious amounts of humans on a day to day basis) I have to go with a great book as my next closest friend. 

Then, with a nano-second difference, neck and neck in a photo finish with the other two, my husband brings in the bronze. What? Tough to read? If you're an avid reader of this electronic journal you'll already know that five years ago he wasn't even standing anywhere close to the gosh-dang podium!

(l-r: Puddin', Dottie & Annie) The three best girlfriends a gal could ask for.
TAKEN: JULY 22nd, 2017

Giggles aside, I went to a birthday party a couple of weekends ago and I thanked an acquaintance for his participation on my Instagram page. He acknowledged that he enjoyed what I posted but felt the need to point out the obvious, which was that my dogs tend to be my focal point in a lot of the photos I've shared. He continued the dialogue pointing out how 'useless' people are that get attached themselves to their pets. I’m not going to lie that I was taken a little aback, though in the moment I deemed discussing it with him just wasted energy.

From this social media get go, I've completely and totally understood that everyone has their thing. Some it’s clothing, fishing, even politics, while other’s embrace music and the creative process or selling shit. What makes this wonderful medium of sharing so amazing is that you get to experience more than what you offer personally; unless you mind is completely closed.

My three dogs are a constant in my life. I joke about my husband taking the bronze but I truly do spend all my spare time with my dogs. My husband leaves, they stay behind. I head outside, they’re not far behind. Kids no longer call to be fed, you can bet I am constantly feeding my pups instead. 

Don’t misunderstand. The affection granted is thanks to sheer unadulterated greed. They are always chasing some sort of treat and I always seem to be packing; in bulk!

Just look at the power of three... and two chicken weiners!

SHE WENT ASS OVER APPLECART

I love Maxine!
(c) Hallmark Licensing Inc. All rights reserved

Over the last few years I've started to have a premonition that I was going to take a fall and hurt myself. 

Not the kind of tumble where you slip on some ice and bang your elbow, more the epic type when you fall like Aunt Bunny and break a hip or your back. 

Well, last night I fell: backwards down the stairs at the house.… I know, right?!

Short story long, I was in the zone & realized the dogs needed to come in. I went down to the landing to find Puddin’ unable to reach the door because her lead on her run was jammed. 

Already grumpy that I’d been interrupted, I unleashed her outside then used my upper body strength to get her lead to the door. By then, I was frustrated. As frustration turned to anger, I was determine to get the wheelee-gig that scoots along wire to let go without having to fetch a step ladder. 

Finally in the house house with my feet firmly planted on the landing, I gave the lead one really good yank and complimented said use of force with a one word expletive.  Think Mel Gibson at the end of Braveheart, except I didn’t yell freedom.  Instead I went with a much more relative and common “F” word!

Anyway, as soon as I pulled the lead through my body, I felt the tension give way. In that very moment, everything went into slow motion. My so-called ‘spidey senses’ went into overdrive as I was uncontrollably falling backward at what felt to be a surreal speed. Nothing could be done, I was going to fall down the stairs; backward.

The first thing I felt was the dog clasp hit and slip between my wedding rings. My ring finger isn’t broken but I know I won’t be removing those suckers for a while. Next I hit my right forearm on the stair ledge. I didn’t cut myself but the bruising is so deep it has yet to appear. Next I felt the small of my back hit evenly on the 3rd step, I was definitely headed ass over applecart. The last thing to hit before me hitting the floor was the top of my toe. I broke my toe on the same ledge my arm hit so I completed an entire backward somersault. I landed at the bottom in a heap. So I dusted me off, put myself to bed, and I went to work this morning. 

Limping this morn, I shared by the water cooler that I had fallen down the stairs. The guys were empathetic but amidst the teasing I had two obvious opinions to share. That my falling was karma repaying me for yelling and the dog and using such passionate profanity and the second was a comment about my overall agility. It went something like this.

“It was epic. Who the hell knew I was that freaking agile? 

It certainly pays to still be able to hook your ankles behind your ears at my age" I said.

A midst the roar of laughter from the peanut gallery I had to continue.

“What the hell were you guys thinking?!" … I’m just glad I started doing yoga!”

AN INVESTMENT IN MYSELF

Rockin' our public school stage!
(Dr. M didn't perform in this play.)
TAKEN: APRIL 1977

When I found out last Christmas that a very dear friend & close confidant was diagnosed with colorectal cancer, I was gob smacked. I remember as the words were being uttered, my heart immediately sank to the bottom of my toes. As a result, I knew it was time to take a personal inventory and work towards ensuring I had a clean bill of health.

I have an aunt that was struck with colon cancer (and survived) so it has been in the back of my mind for a very long time. Always a very picky eater, a high fiber diet's something that has always eluded me; until, well, a couple of months ago.

With a new wellness doctor to help me along the way, I've pretty much felt like a lab rat since getting that first series of blood results back. Though I am grateful my sugar levels are OK, I seemed to have some rather serious issues elsewhere.

Anyway, when I was referred to a local surgeon to do my colonoscopy, I shared with my family physician that we had known each other since public school. As a matter a fact, I shared that I specifically remembered the day he arrived into our open area classroom from England.

When they wheeled me into the OR, he wasn't far behind. Once we were finished our pleasantries, he lifted the sheet covering me to inspect my feet for swelling. He acknowledged  my pedicure and moved toward the top of the sheet telling me he needed to listen to my heart. When he moved the stethoscope for the third time, I quietly asked, '...is it still there?'

His response was genuine: 'Rhondi, there was never any doubt!'

I was obviously very nervous, so as he prepared to administer my dug laden cocktail into my intravenous, I felt the need to break the ice. 'Listen...' I said.

I'm going to show you something here today and it's not gonna be my tits.' I continued. 'I popped those puppies out for Betty over in diagnostic imaging a couple of weeks ago!' ...Everyone in the O.R. burst into laughter.

Jokes aside, do yourself a favour and get tested for every single one of our silent enemies. It may be a tad humbling but you need to make that very specific investment in yourself.

Because just like yours truly.... You're worth it!

Y IS FOR YOUTHFUL

I find a lot of people tend to ask why I have three dogs. It was never a long term goal and the dead nuts honest truth is that it's a heck of lot of work. What happened was, we acquired our third within a six month time frame of when we thought we'd have to put our eldest down. Trouble with the scenario was our eldest almost instantly turned into Benjamin Button and started getting younger; as you know the exact same thing happened to me when the kids left home! BA-DUM-BUMP.

A youthful yours truly with Captain Jack Sparrow!
TAKEN: APRIL 8th, 2017

I don't know about you but I have never worried about my age. As a matter a fact, I focus now more than ever on being in the moment without any type of inhibition. My trip to New Orleans this month was proof of that. After all, you know what they say, that 50 is the new 30 and I think my photo proves exactly that.

As we begin to plan for our two weeks away this fall I have made yet another personal decision. I am going to learn to scuba dive. Not because I have some deep seeded desire to learn but just like surfing, why they hell wouldn't I try?

If that weren't enough I am planning a large group trip to Cuba in February and I plan on attending a wedding in Jamaica next April. Not someone to look away from adventure, I have decided to get my motorcycle licence. Not because I have a desire to display helmet head in Canada; but I want to be able to independently navigate the island I visit this fall and the country of Jamaica next April.

I work to travel and I am fortunate that I love what I do for a living. As time passes quicker than I could ever imagine, I significantly increased my contributions to my retirement funds this year. I guess you can say if I am lucky enough to live longer than my mothers age of 57... I never want this amazing mid-life ride to stop!

Thanks again for reading. 

X IS FOR X-TRA

I have to admit that this letter of the alphabet is always the most challenging for me. Even though this is my fifth year participating in April A-Z, this is the fourth year I have chosen a hybrid for this specific letter. It's not an uncommon practice so when I was trying to decide on a word, once again my quest for my waist (and the x-tra pounds I'm carrying) immediately rushed to the front of my cranium.

Me carrying an x-tra 60 pounds
TAKEN NOVEMBER 7th, 2011

The photo am sharing was taken in November of 2011 and about a month after I left a very stressful job. It was during my tenure working there that I realized I was self medicating with food and my husband was enabling me. 

About a month and a half after this photo was taken (and during the December holiday break) that I officially tipped the scales at 200 pounds.  Seeing myself in a specific Christmas photo made me realize I was out of control; and that new years I made a commitment to myself and got my life/health back on track. 

It took me 18 months to lose the more than 50 pounds from my frame the took me 5 years to gain, and this last fall, more stress once again had me on a quest for my waist. I am pleased to report that I have a wellness coach and I have completely changed my lifestyle so that this never happens again.

At least that's what I tell myself  when I crave an unhealthy snack or look at this picture!

R IS FOR RETRO

Jukebox embracing the vibe!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 31st, 2010

There's not need to rush to grab your calculators to figure out my age... but I don't think there will be any shock among readers when I disclose that I was born in this era.

Never one to gravitate to their fashion choices nor weed; to this day their music is something that still and always will fascinate me.

This past week was the anniversary of the death of Levon Helm (most notably known for playing with The Band). As I shared a video on Facebook of his last performance with Sheryl Crow, I couldn't help but choose to honour him with this word.

RIP Levon. You will forever be loved by millions!

P IS FOR PARENTING

I read a quote somewhere that referenced parenting as the easiest thing in the world to have an opinion on, and the hardest thing you'll ever do. I couldn’t agree more.

When we discovered that we were going to have the stork stop by in the winter of 1990, we were shocked. Not because we didn’t know how babies were made but we had purchased a new home a year earlier and with mortgage interest being at 12.5%, our 5 year financial commitment was staggering.

The Fam-Jam rockin' Huckleberry Rock in Muskoka
TAKEN: OCTOBER 10th, 2016

When our first born arrived, he was the perfect baby. We didn’t have much money back then but he brought so much joy to us we decide we’d like the stork to visit again; this time, in 1992, he delivered two!

Like any family, we have taken a journey. Even all these years later, I can reflect on certain situations and still wish I would have done things differently. Then again, you know what they say about hindsight; it’s in the past and not the direction I am going.

Today, I look at them as young adults and hope every single day that we have given them some good tools to be both successful and personally happy. I remember being so sad when they all left for school, perhaps I was naive enough to think they would never return. They all have and at least once left again.

After this last stint of my eldest boy being our roommate again, we knew we wouldn't allow any of them to move back home. Not because we're upset with them but we really feel it's time they leave the homestead. Though we would never see them in dire straits, moving home again's no longer an option.

I have to admit, when we get together, I am always joking that should they insist on returning, I am getting a one bedroom apartment with no pull out sofa. Seriously, I should probably tell them that I'm really not joking.... I'm dead serious.

Ya gotta laugh about it!

PLEASE CHECK YOUR MILK CARTON...

 Cheers to my newest Brit friend June...
Cozumel was amazing.
So was my very first margarita!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 3rd, 2016

Has your life ever gotten so busy that you've lost track of who you really are? Well, I am sad to report that I honestly feel that scenario has officially happened to me. Gobsmacked to admit it, all I can manage to type is... What the freakin' hell is going on!

Here's the skinny. Unbeknownst to yours truly, in the last year and a half, I've somehow evolved into an ultra conservative schoolmarm. I may have always been lacking on the adventurous side when it came to risk taking, but schoolmarmishness (my new word of the week) has never remotely been an option. To make matters worse, I've always envisioned myself being the one in the old age home embracing sarcasm and telling jokes filled with sexual innuendo; or so I'd thought.

What I do know is that my very new to me condition became polarized about six months ago. I remember it well because there was a very specific moment in which I realized that I had evolved into a completely different person than the one I'd worked the last five years to discover. Then, my heavyhearted worry came full circle with the sharp realization that I was suspiciously comfortable in authentic knee length pantaloons whilst sporting little makeup and bad hair in public.

Yup, it was in that very moment of downtown comfort that I realized what I'd transformed into & that there needed to be some serious changes made quickly. Comfortable albeit still in a state of disbelief, I frantically went from store to store around town checking milk cartons and the missing person photos on side. Sadly, though there have been a couple of reported sightings of the good ole me, they have been few and far between.

The good news is that my analysis tells me that there were glimpses of me on my last trip to Mexico. It also tells me that returning to the harsh December Muskoka tundra, had me immediately revert back to searching for those comfy pantaloons quicker than Donald Trump lies. It's true, my reversion was  instantaneous. As a result, I decided to take another kick at the 'rediscover my identity' can.

Next weekend I am leaving on a jet plane for a girlz getaway. It's only for 3 nights but it is the first time in my entire life that I am hopping a plane and I am not completely burnt out. There will be no overthinking and most definitely no schoolmarmishness happening. Just a conscious effort to regain a personal starting point whilst basking in the Caribbean sun.

As you can imagine, last minute this time of year can be expensive. Here's hoping when on my rediscovery mission I find myself on a local milk container and haul my pantaloonless ass home. I have to say, it would be great for their carton stats to have rescued another one.

...To which I would always be grateful.