M IS FOR MATES

Just LOOK at these friends of mine...
TAKEN: AUGUST 11th, 2024

Last August, I posted an Instagram/Facebook story that had me sitting in the front seat of our car and my pups in the back. In my one hand was a large McDonald’s french fry container, in my other, my phone set to video. My husband in the drivers seat, rolling his eyes.

When I hit record, I began by talking in a proud and convincing voice, stating: “I’d like to challenge each and everyone of you, that believe I don’t have any friends…. Just look at these friends of myyyne!”

Now, I realize that it's hard to get the gist of a video clip from a still photograph, but check out the focus on the faces of my co-pilots. Not a worry in the world, except the desire for me to share the remaining excess sodium clad yummies in the big red box with the big yellow M.

I will admit that in the last four plus years, the only thing my husband and I drive thru at this establishment for is a cup of their freshly brewed coffee. That said, because fast food is no longer an item we bring into our home, on the odd occasion I may have gone rogue.

As I have shared here many times, I am an emotional eater. The higher my level of stress, the larger my need to self indulge (with not good food choices) gets.  Now a days, the first thing stopping me, is the number on the scale. That, and the astronomical dollar value they want to charge when I get up to the window. 

the combination of both of those major factors is why in the last year, popsicles became my guilty pleasure of choice. I simply buy those suckers on sale, pop them into the freezer, then I'm good to go.

Truth?  For the record, my pups look exactly as they do above, when they hear me opening the wrapper of a grape one coming fresh out of the box.

Like I said.... Just look at these lovely three mates of mine!

TWENTY REASONS WHY

My husband went back to work yesterday, so I will be flying solo around the house until Friday night. 

It goes without saying that sitting around all day was out of the question, so my first self assigned task was to productively purge my clothing dressers, closets, and totes; you read that right, plural.

What started a three-pile exercise (out to the cottage, neatly bagged for donation, and the third for disposal) resulted in a day that proved to be cathartic as well as seriously eye opening. So much so that it genuinely resulted in me motivating myself for change. 

Long term readers may remember it was ten years ago on this exact day that I decided I was going to get back in shape, and the ‘quest for my waist' began. 

I hadn’t been through menopause back then, so I suspect my results a decade later will take an altered approach, not to mention considerably more work. 

As a goal-oriented person, I knew I would need a way to focus. So, my personal target is to wear this wee ditty around the pool, for my birthday trip to Las Vegas in April.

These beautiful colours were last worn by me in Miami in 2018.
 I am truly hoping to end our five year hiatus!
TAKEN: JANUARY 4th, 2023

Now before you start rolling your eyes, know that I am not doing this out of vanity. 

Rather you should know that I am truly uncomfortable in my skin and need to make a change. Purging my clothes just gave me the motivation I needed. This over weight just simply must go!

...Now, I’m not talking 200 pounds. 

I am looking to lose the extra twenty pounds that have slowly crept back and are comfortably squatting on the midsection of my body. No matter what I do, those suckers seem to want to stay indefinitely. 

I'm not joking. They are stuck to me as comfortably as Jeffrey Dahmer was living in his grandmothers' basement,  and today I decided that was no longer an option.

How serious am I? 

When I finished my chores, I hung her up in my dressing room next to my mirror, where I will see here every time I enter the room to get dressed. As extra reinforcement, I have taped a picture of her on the front of the fridge. 

Oh, and just to be clear. This isn't a 2023 resolution. It is a much needed personal solution using a colourful (albeit memorable) two piece object as a healthy reminder of my task at hand. 

Wish me luck!

JANUARY JUGGERNAUT

For the last decade, Friday mornings in January had me check the weather to see how low the temperature was expected to dip within the coming 48 hours.  This weekly tradition helped me understand how my weekend was going to be spent (-10C registered as balmy and -25C as housebound).

If I was lucky enough to be blessed with a mild winter, one of the two days had me strap on my snowshoes and head out with the pups. Nine times out of ten I would land at the cottage but if I did not have the luxury of half the day to myself, the golf course across the street was an excellent option for my weekly ritual. 

A few years ago, when our beloved Dotti's hips began to be an issue, my biggest winter priority was ensuring she had a series of snowshoed paths for easy access around the lower level of our yard, so she would never struggle when out to do her stinky winter thing with nature. 

With our Puddin’ entering her twilight years, it seemed my winter weekends were once again destine to be spent blazing trails with my showshoes. With her general lack of speed and muscle mass, I knew she would be appreciative to be able to navigate her turf with general freedom; and yours truly, grateful for the outdoor exercise. 

That said, with my husband having his own personal health setback at Thanksgiving, he too is in search of whatever exercise he can easily accomplish. 

You can tell by the picture I am sharing (which I snapped standing in my showshoes) that my trails are getting an updated facelift, and my longstanding pup efforts are being replaced.

Can't stop change, only manage it!
#yagottalaughaboutit
TAKEN: JANUARY 31st, 2021

I don't mind his initiative, I honestly don't. My girls will love their new trails that are wider and much easier for them to navigate. 

I guess my wee issue is that this whole lockdown situation has NOT been my friend. 

I may do my best to do my due diligence in the exercise department - only to come back into the house and enjoy a plethora of warm milk and cookies.

I know I have no one to blame but myself. But I will say, that not spending an hour every morning on my appearance to head into an office job, has enabled my keen ability to shroud myself in clothing that masks the number of calories being enjoyed at any given yummy juncture. 

Wanting to embrace my glass half full, I have decided to shift my mindset to an uber positive outlook as my appearance changes.

My new mantra? I prefer not to think of myself as overweight... 

Just substantially easier to see!!

#missionaccomplished

SNOW IT STARTS!

The frozen precipitation I deem a constant irritant and source of months of personal misery landed last week. Allow me to draw to your attention to exhibit 'A' below: my frustrating flakey foe. Stupid f*cking snow! 

My pretty pups posing with my frozen foe!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 16th, 2020

Dirty chirps aside, like I do every autumn, I force myself to push through this horrible six weeks of time change purgatory, until the days begin to get longer and the UV rays reflect off our pristine white blanket in January. 

With my seasonal affective disorder at its most debilitating in November, I always spend time looking for positive distractions. This electronic journal helped me in the fall of 2011 and in post Thanksgiving time changes since, I have leaned on it more often than not. 

This year, with all that's happening you would think I would want to write more, yet my creative canvas appears completely blank. Therefore, if writing isn't going to be where I channel my energy,  I have resigned myself to the fact that I am going to need another outlet. 

With that in mind, three weeks ago I took a giant step and dug out and dusted off my trustworthy treadmill. It stands proud upstairs, looking out the big picture windows and I enthusiastically offer it social niceties multiple times a day. 

So far, I have yet to plug the power cord into the wall and take it for a spin. Guess its because I'm a firm believer you can't rush back into a physical relationship, when you've completely ignored its purpose for over five years; which is why this weekend I shifted my focused to the upcoming holiday season. 

With the kids grown and gone, there isn't near as much to look forward to as their use to be, yet I do my best to get into the spirit of things. Though I never ask for anything, I do love to gaze at my Christmas tree lights each night for the entire month of December, bringing specific enlightenment to my earlier attempt at a new energy absorbing distraction. 

You see, I put my newly dusted off old chum in the very same spot I always put the holiday Christmas tree that houses those 500+ beautiful LED lights I love. 

Knowing Christmas lights trump everything, I am feeling very grateful I only ever offered a cheerful good morning to my buddy, never hopping on with false intentions. 

Because I know now, that we would have just gotten back into a familiar rhythm, and I would have had to fold 'er up and move 'em to the cold garage, alone, until early January 2021.  Once again proving, the creative process and this silly electronic journal offer me the crystal clear clarity and self enabling justification I crave this time of year. 

Which leaves me hollering, yet again.... Pass the chocolate cake, spark another Hallmark movie, and deck the freaking halls! 

Oh, before I forget. Is there anyone around next weekend to help me move a treadmill?

#yagottalaughaboutit 

O IS FOR OOOOPS

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!

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. This year, with COVID19 in full force, not so much. 

You see, over the last 6 or seven 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 a decade 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.

I hate that I'm heavier than I care to be. That said, I guess I could have chosen, overweight or obese as my word, instead I chose OOOOPS.

Frankly because I feel I am simply on a detour, meaning I have not arrived at my final destination.

Thanks for listening ~ Rhondi

My quest for my waist once again continues!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 3rd, 2019
MAZATLAN, MEXICO

H IS FOR HANGRY

It's that time of year again, where you pay for your winter weight!
(Images from hiyu.com)

A IS FOR APRIL A-Z

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

A IS FOR APRIL A-Z: 

A crazy month, that will

Push me to

Rejuvenate Rhondi,

Inspire others and 

Laugh a lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A COTTAGE EXORCISM

I took my mother in law out for a bit of retail therapy and a bite of lunch last week, and during our dining experience she asked me how much younger I was than her son; she was surprised when I reminded her that I was in fact older.

I’m not sure why, but I get that quite a lot. I think it’s partially because I have an abundance of daily energy, partially because I  strive to stay healthy, and partially because I've inherited some exceptional DNA. 

For example, the week my mother passed, her doctor commented on her flawless skin, to which she attributed to soap and water.

Though I do spend extra funds over and above her two-step process, I must admit that I have been very blessed to be in the skin I’m in.

That said, as much as DNA comes into play, a healthy lifestyle and positive attitude are also much haves to staying young at heart.

My biggest health challenge has always been the emotional eater that lurks under my surface and attacks when I’m at my weakest. I’m working on it, yet suspect it will remain an ongoing challenge for the rest of my life.

From the inside looking out, I don’t think am any different than most. Everyone has personal challenges, everyone has an approach as to how to manage them.

In this instance, my tipping point came after the long weekend in August, when I found myself eating and I wasn’t even hungry. It was in that very moment that I identified that there needed to be another cosmic shift; my last one was in 2011.

Thank goodness for the pedal 'boat that floats.'
Diet & exercise has me down 10 lbs so far.
TAKEN: AUGUST 4th, 2019

Short story long. After a full cleanse, and two weeks at home working inside and out, I landed at the cottage for the first time again yesterday. I was immediately horrified I'd fall back as the place was filled with absolute crap.

So, I immediately open the trash can and began an official exorcism. 

Out went the red licorice and wine gums, which were replaced by almonds and Greek yogurt. 

Potato chips and various buns and breads and cookies were tossed to make room for fruits and vegetables and lean cuts of meat and fish.

I must admit, you have no idea how cathartic it was to toss the enabling Miss Vicky out the door. 

It was like that scene from Night in Rodanthe (with Diane Lane & Richard Gere) when they took shots of tequila in the kitchen getting snookered while cleaning out the pantry of expired can goods... It was extremely exhilarating!

Though no tequila was consumed during my purification ritual, I do have to go on the record with something I recently discovered and consider to be a small blessing in this time of very important change.

…It’s that GIN contains zero grams of fat!

Ya Gotta Laugh About It!!

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!

MY CUBAN SURVIVAL KIT

Well, I am sad to report that it's with the least amount of enthusiasm EVER that I packed my carry on travel bag last weekend. Not because I'm long in the tooth about getting away, rather the simple fact that I've never had any type of wanderlust fantasies about jetting off to Cuba for the weekend; yet I am.

If I were to be completely honest, I think I'm pouting. The original plan was to head to a condo in Grand Cayman for the weekend. When timing on that unexpectedly changed, Cuba seemed like a good way for my daughter (to get her first) and I to get a new passport stamp without breaking the piggy bank. Was I wrong. Last minute at a 4.5* resort in Cuba was bat shit crazy pricey. I didn't care. As this mini vaycay was always going to be a very personal one.

Personal or not, I suspected I was cooked when my Travel Counsellor refused to candy coat exactly what I was paying for. "The beaches are beautiful, the service amazing, and the people are some of the nicest you'll ever meet..." Then she added... "When it comes to the food? It is, what it is. You will probably be disappointed." 

Always one to look for a solution rather than dwell on the problem, I figured there must be an easy way to make it through my 3 day weekend in Cuba. So, I decided to create a Cuban Survival Kit. It doesn't contain a Spanish/English dictionary, water purification tablets, an epipen, nor a signaling mirror should I lose my way.

After a careful assessment of our personal party planning needs, my survival kit officially includes three very critical things: Heinz ketchup, French's mustard and just enough Kraft smooth peanut butter to make a girl smile. (I also have some salt, pepper, and herb flavours stashed in my makeup bag.)

Once again, I am leaving on a jet plane. This time packing a survival kit.
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 5th, 2017

Though I know many other items are needed, two of my three survival items are extremely important. The first two will make my poolside/beachfront BBQ dining experiences a gastronomical delight. The third, the Kraft peanut butter, combined with any type of bread, at any time of the day, shall produce a rub-a-tummy-yummy feast in the 'I am hungry' department. Here's my plan...

When in Cuba: Soak up the sun. Embrace the culture. Hydrate, yet lose weight.

Wow, you'd almost think that was a Jenny Craig endorsement!

Nope, just 3 amigos on a very personal mission... with me seeking a new passport stamp. 

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. 

K IS FOR KRYPTONITE

Let me start by writing that if you Google 'what is kryptonite', the search engine will report something to the effect that it's a fictional substance from the Superman comic book series, that generally has detrimental effects on Superman. Though I can't personally be compared to Superman (first and foremost because I'm a woman) I do believe that everyone has something personal that evokes a  certain level of weakness from within.

After my father passed away in 2005, I slowly started to hide my eating habits from everyone around me. The truth of the matter is that I found a comfort in food that I'd never experienced before in my life. For the first few years I managed alright, because I still ran and golfed a couple of times a week. Then, around 2009 the weight gain started to become apparent. 

Long story short, my 2011 New Years Resolution was to completely change my eating behaviours and lose the excess weight I'd gained. It was much harder than I ever imagined but in the end I got my life as well as my waist back. That said, there was some tough love involved.

A perfect close up of my Krytonite

Gravy, which was my favourite food group, GONE. Candy and fast food, GONE. Portion sizes that could feed a small family, GONE. 

The hardest habit to break? Getting my husband to stop bringing my kryptonite into the house: Miss Vickies Sea Salt & Malt potato chips.

Almost 10 years later, she and I have come to agree to disagree. The sad part is she doesn't play fair. Whilst wheeling my grocery cart through the isles on Saturday morn, I swear she's calling out to me. 

"Pssst... Rhondi. I'm in isle 3," she'll say. To which I'd immediately and lovingly respond with skitch of a shrill in my tone..."Get lost, BITCH!"

Them thar words are the only ones she ever gets in response.

Ya Gotta Laugh About It.

MY MORNING MUSIC MIX

For the second time in as many weeks, I had to put my gloves on this morning to head out of my subdivision to meet the Sweeney Meister to catch my ride. She’s willingly offered to come to the door to pick me up and drop me off but for me that's simply not an option. I absolutely love my morning & after work walks. As an FYI, the weather will be never an issue. 

A fitting music choice for this last day this morning.
(Earth Wind & Fire ~ SEPTEMBER)
CLICK HERE to watch, listen & enjoy!
PHOTO TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 30th, 2015

When I hit the pavement at 6:45am, you'll be pleased to know I'm packing better than Clint Eastwood in any Dirty Harry movie ever produced. Yup, my handy dandy shoulder bag is packed to answer to each and every weather mishap that my occur from my hair, to my make-up, and/or outfit in transit.

More important than that, each and every time I head up the drive (and shuffle my 600+ songs on my phone) my first music pick automatically compliments my morning energy level and mood. As quirky as it reads, that part of my routine literally defines how I prepare myself for my day. The more rested I am the more upbeat the song. Then again, if I’ve stayed up passed my bedtime the night before, I refuse to choose a song that has me lollygagging. I always pick something that will give that push to get me where the hell I'm going. 

As you long term readers know, I’ve never worked outside my sleepy little town, therefore I’ve never commuted. That, my friends, is no longer the case. Though I'm still lucky enough to get to have an amazing morning walk, I hop a ride in the coolest car ever. We laugh, we sing, we talk, and we totally relate to one and other; but that’s just the Sweeney Meister's dog Coop and I on the way to her dog sitter.... Otherwise, the car is completely quiet. NOT!

Joking aside HSW, not only do you make our morning travels bat shit crazy fun, they're both reminiscent and will always be memorable. As I progress through my career transition, I only have one word for you.

Thanks. xo

THE PERFECT TART

...MY VERY SEXY GUILTY PLEASURE!!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 6th, 2014

What can I say, since hitting mid-life, there are certain things that I no longer get to enjoy.

For example, gravy use to be a food group for me but now it’s something I drizzle on my food semi-annually instead of drowning it weekly. Any type of fresh bread and soft butter? Not an option. Makes my ass fatter just thinking about indulging in it. 

...Then there are butter tarts.

For me, enjoying a really great butter tart is right up there with truly amazing sex. As we all know, if a man is looking to really get laid on a Saturday night, foreplay usually needs to start with his wife that morning at breakfast. The same goes for me and the indulgence of a really great butter tart. I have to carefully allow myself to be seduced. Eventually giving into the strong, undeniable and very sexy urge. It's most definitely my guilty pleasure.

As a born and bred French Canadian woman, butter tarts (and a plethora of other fresh baked items) were something I grew up with. Thoughout my childhood, every single day that I took a lunch to school, there was something freshly baked tucked nicely into my lunch kit. 

Actually,  my kit always carried the same three things; a processed lunch meat sandwich, a homemade baked goody, and a piece of fresh fruit. Not the best lot to barter with at lunchtime but I always managed to make out okay. My sandwich was pre-frozen and always soggy, so it automatically got tossed. The good news was that my Mom’s baking would more often than not land me a little sum-sum much farther up the lunch food chain.  That said, because the baked offering always rotated, I never knew from one day to the next what I had to work with.

For example, Artje use to offer her entire lunch for one of my Mom's butter tarts. The truth of the matter was she wasn't allowed to have sugar, so by first recess, if there was a butter tart my kit, my lunch was in play. All goopy and sinfully sweet, the butter tarts always brought me the mother load.

A couple of years back, my best electronic friend and I use to talk about the world famous tarts that could be found in my Town all the time. I've never told him about Betty's Tarts (...still weep at night since she's retired) and today's post is the first time I've shared with him about my Mom's yummies. I'm also sure he'll be in shock when he sees that I am now a proud patron at The Bean. You see... for varying reasons, he seems to be infatuated with Marty's.

Not this Cat. I've read his sign in Town that reads his tarts are world famous but I wouldn't know. I haven't frequented his shop since I had to refinance my home after buying four ice cream cones there for my kiddies a decade ago. The honest truth? I have never had a carefully marketed World Famous Marty's Butter Tart. 

Truth of the matter is that I've just never been able to process the fact that his ego felt they were the best. After all, with so many perfect tarts in my life before his, I never truly had the desire to give his a try.

...AND don't get me started on the fact that he charges $99 for an apple pie!!

CONNECTING THE POLKA DOTS

The very first Christmas that my husband and were dating still remains the singular time that we’ve done our holiday shopping separately. I remember it specifically because my mother was terminally ill and she personally chose a yellow cable knit sweater for him. It was December of 1986.

There were a number of 'lasts' for us that Christmas. All these year later, him buying any sort of clothing for me is still firmly planted on that list. It’s not that I wasn't appreciative of his efforts in '86 but what he’d purchased were downright gaudy. By that, I mean they had definite Hallowe’en costume potential and it was Christmas!

Joking aside, I should share that we’ve always shopped together. As an example, when I've needed something specific, he's enthusiastically participated by holding up the items he likes... Only to have me scrunch up my nose, making a face, and shaking my head in disagreement. Which is my personal code for... are you freaking sniffing glue? 

Flash forward to the summer of 2014. We were shopping for my daughter before she left to move West and I came across this really neat pair of swim shorts for him. I held them up for his approval and he gave me a little of my own medicine. He made a face and shook his head. He HATED them. So, like any good wife, I bought them anyway.

When we got home, I showed them to him. He was miffed, so I said “I’m the one that has to look at you in them and I think they'll look good... So how be you only wear them when it's just you and me at the cottage?” 

He wouldn't budge, so (even though they were just very colourful swim shorts) I had to go with... I think you’ll look really sexy in them. After a bit of coaxing, he agreed to wear them for l'il ole me.

Well, that specific style of bargaining brings me to last Saturday.

Who'd a thunk it?
TAKEN: OCTOBER 28th, 2014

With our trip happening in the next minute and a half, I wanted to buy a couple of new swimsuits. We looked in every store in town, saving my very favourite store for last. 

As we looked through the racks at Bliss Boutique together he held up a suit that he really liked. It was nothing like anything I’d ever worn before, so I gave him my standard look of NOT A CHANCE IN HELL. He carefully moved into my personal space.

Looking me straight in the eye and inches from my face he asked, “do I have to come back tomorrow and buy it ?”

“Rhondi, I’m the only one that wants to see you in it” he mockingly said. "I'll only expect you to wear it twice while we’re away...!”

So I bought it. I bought it without trying it on. When we got home he asked me to model it. I tried it on and it looked FAB ~ I was a little shocked. I couldn't see it but he could. I can't believe how much my treadmill has slimmed me down. I'm still amazed.

Will I let him start picking out my clothes now? HELL NO... Getting lucky once in twenty eight years on the fashion front does not a fashion maven make!

Besides, I still haven't told him yet that he was right about the bathing suit.

Why would I want to rush two twenty eight year milestones in one week?!?!

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!

YUP... It Was RUB-A-TUMMY-YUMMY!

I am one of those people that simply don’t live a very adventurous life. Matter a fact, I'm really quite regimented. I won’t go so far as to admit that I own matching ‘days of the week’  bras and undies but pretty close. What can I say, I know what I like and I like what I know. 

That said, living at the cottage brings out a whole different side of my personality. I’m not sure if it’s the water and fresh air, or just the change of pace of how my day progresses, but from the moment I pull in the drive, I feel rejuvenated. Especially when it comes to trying new things – especially food.

When I’m in town, I generally eat the same things at the same time every single day. It’s almost like I have my body conditioned to it. I only consume so many calories in the exact same order every day and I prepare and eat dinner within a thirty minute window each and every night. I didn’t always use to be like that but as my ‘Quest For My Waist” began three and a half years ago, it’s almost like I found specific foods I like and walked away from all things guilty almost overnight.... That was until last night.

Butter, bacon, carbs, and sauces are not my friend. If I enjoy a small potato, I don’t eat any bread that day, if I treat myself to any bacon, it’s always turkey bacon; but a week or so ago, I came across a recipe on my favourite food blog. 

Mine doesn't look as good as Jen's but it was still amazing!
LOADED SMASHED POTATO SKILLET RECIPE
(c) seasonsandsuppers.ca

It contained every single thing that I use to love but no longer enjoy.  

It took me a week to talk myself into it and yesterday I folded like a lawn chair and prepared this VERY guilty pleasure for dinner.

Being the dog lady I am, I feed my pups people food. Last night was no exception. They loved the marinated pork tenderloin but turned their noses up as I tried to hand feed them some of my grilled asparagus.

Knowing I had already crossed the line, I met my girlz in the middle. I ate the remaining veggies and they enjoyed the last smashed potato. 

Why wouldn't I let them have it? After all, they gave Jen's rub-a-tummy-yummy recipe two paws up!

...and so did I.