M IS FOR MINGBOGGLING

The statement above is a mindboggling, albeit accurate statement.
...Something I will never be able to laugh about!

I IS FOR IRRATIONAL

No other words required!!
(Image via: scmp.com)

BOOK-A-BOO

As a child I remember my mother being a collector of books. She had hundreds of them which now reside with my brother. My sister’s a bookworm as well. She went as far as to begin writing one. I don’t fit into either of those categories.

Though I love to read a good novel I rarely find the time. I will admit one of my favourite pastimes is to spend hours upon hours trolling the aisles of a local two story used book store called The Owl Pen. I've never read the last page the way Hollywood hypes it as an option, rather find myself fixated in a section reading the backs forever searching for a specific fit.

As a busy working mom, spare time was never plentiful. So, since the children were small, I’d always make time to read when we’d travel. Because there was five of us, we usually drove to South Carolina for Easter week. 

The twins were about two when I started reading a grand total of four books a year. Two in the mini-van on the way there, and two on the way home.

With the kids grown and gone, nowadays I tend to only make it into The Owl Pen the Saturday before I get on a plane; and a few times each summer to stock up my bookshelf at the cottage.

Just like my favourite pair of fuzzy socks, I know what I like and I want what I know. Therefore, I and never venture very far away from good non-fiction and a handful of writers of fiction I like.

So you can imagine my shock (when on vaycay in Mexico last month) a passive aggressive electronic friend backhandedly 'book shamed' me via text message.

Check out my sexy bookmark & killer tan in process on the bottom left!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 26th - DECEMBER 3rd 2019

When I shared that I was excited to read the new Nicolas Sparks book, they countered with ‘my girls use to like to read him when they were in high school’. Inferring that I was stuck at a school girl level of reading?

Though there were several jabs before this one and several other reasons why, suffice it to say I haven’t sent a text message since. Yet, as I curl up next to the fire I can't help but reflect. You know, I truly feel Hemingway said it best with... ‘there’s no friend as loyal as a book!’

I wonder if Jane Austen or F. Scott would concur? 

FECK OFF FISHER-FOE

If I didn't see it, I woudn't have believed it.
TAKEN: DECEMBER 1st, 2016

This afternoon I was sitting in my super sexy beach chair when this dude stumbles out from who the hell knows where. As I watched this supposed ‘professional angler wanna be’ wander to the water, I almost had to look for Aston Kutcher and his film crew from his now defunct show PUNK’d.

...No such luck.

I guess I should clarify that the resort where I am staying boasts being a preserved wildlife area. Birds walk along the pool decks truly uninhibited, iguanas roam the lawns, and the fish are like pets. They are so conditioned to being around people that the fish actually jump out of the water to catch a snippet of food you may be tossing to them; just like a pup with a Frisbee.

As I watched this idiot approach the beach I couldn't help but worry. Not only was the snorkelling area full of swimmers that may take a hook but any fish would surely/enthusiastically grab at his line.

All I could do was watch in disbelief. As I rose from my chair to stop him, a lovely British lady stepped up equally pissed off. As I approached the water I could see her finger wagging which intern had this fisher-foe moving along.

She and I stood and chatted for quite sometime. By the end of our chat, we seemed to both come up with a universal label for this angler chap with absolutely NO common sense.

GOOF! YUP... This Fisher-foe was nothing but a fat hairy goof!

SHUTTING DOWN THE 'SHOW'

It’s with great sadness that I report that the day before yesterday was the last time I got to enjoy my beloved outdoor shower. Don’t fret, I’m not all stinky and stuff. I have a bathtub and shower in the upstairs bathroom that has no commode. That much needed plumbing friend of mine, is located downstairs; all alone, with only a pedestal sink to keep it company. Sounds a tad convoluted but it really is quite practical from a day to day living stand point.

I love to sing in the shower... Just like it when I can't be heard!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 2014

Even with the indoor plumbing, for as long as I can remember, I've always loved to shower outdoors.

It’s started with a garden hose and an attachment that I used to use to bathe the dog with, that graduated to a rainfall Waterpic on the end of a hose that hung from the upper deck using a rope, and so on. When I lived out here in 2012, building a real outdoor shower became a personal mission.

Because this summer was so brutal weather wise, I put up walls that maintained my view but kept the majority of the elements out. If you look at my photo, you can see on the left, that I've tacked an old bed sheet up to keep anyone from seeing in. 

It’s not that I’m a prude. Hell, I’m anything but; BUT, after a week of catching my crazy neighbour raking the same 2 x 2 piece of his lawn (as I prepared to get into my shower) I figured it was time to shut the Show down.

He’s a piece of work. Before I went the bed sheet route, I’d go as far as to announce “I can see you over there…” but it made no matter. He never took the hint. The fact that he’s an old bird, I suppose I should have given him the benefit of the doubt that he couldn't hear (nor see) me but the idea of it all just generally bugged the hell outta me. With the cottage outdoor shower season over, before I return home Saturday, the walls will be taken down and stored (have a steel roof that would decimate them in the Spring if I didn’t).

Next summer my goal is to build a deck into the hill and put a clawed foot bath tub on it. That way, I can enjoy my view as well as my beloved bubble baths while I'm living here. I've decided that the only fencing that will be constructed will be a large privacy fence on the property line so my time is privately mine. 

Who wants to bet me that my neighbour loses his rake AND his desire to do yard work?

Ya Gotta Laugh About It...!

Can't Stop Change... Only Manage It!

When I moved out to the cottage I knew there would be a series of adjustments all around. Not only for me; but for my husband, my kids, and even the dogs. I knew I’d be fine, because let’s face it, living here was my idea, and I had carefully planned every single detail.

The extensive planning wasn’t because I thought I would struggle working from here, but because it’s fifty five steps down from the driveway to the front deck. Any crap I brought in, would eventually have to be carried out. I’m not proud to admit that it took three days to get everything I needed down the hill. But I AM pleased to report, that other than my struggles with the internet, I’m doin’ fine.

The dogs? Not quite as lucky as yours truly.

SIX HOURS OF STRAIGHT SQUIRRELIN'
TAKEN: JULY 3rd, 2014

I’d spotted Big Red (our resident red squirrel) shortly after we arrived. With it being cooler today, things have accelerated into an almost critical situation. Just like in the past,  that bastard is playing my girl like a fiddle!

It’s hard watching first-hand what my pup refuses to see, which is that Big Red is nothing but an egotistical tease that's simply baiting her. I have to give him props. He’s good. Why? Because I think my pup is naïve enough to believe they can be friends. When it clearly not an option.

It’s been less than a week since our arrival and it’s evident that she’s already exhausted; but only she can decide when enough is enough. All I can do is my very best to keep her otherwise distracted and content.

Take that Big Red. I'm onto ya. This is one game of dog and squirrel you’re gonna lose! 

...In The Long Run

I use to worry a lot, I use to hurry a lot, I use to stay out 'til the break of day.... Well, no, not really the break of day. Maybe once every five years; but when you're as old as I, that constitutes A LOT, so let's all hold hands so I don't have to lean on my walker OK?

My two fave boys - Don Henley & Timothy B. Schmidt
Taken at the ACC: November 6th, 2013

What a ride the last week has been.

For those of you that don't know, I have been an Eagles fan since before the Gods invented velcro strapped shoes for toddlers & seniors. 

Since they ended their 14 year hiatus I have purchased live footage of their concerts all over the world in hopes that one day I would get to see them live.

I am pleased to report they DID NOT disappoint. In few words, their sound and musicianship was nothing less than sheer perfection.

As a total blindside, there was someone in my life that was jealous. Not because seeing them had been their lifelong dream, but more because they felt they were entitled to attend purely at my monetary expense and the credit of my good nature. 

My right foot centre stage at the ACC
History of The Eagles Tour - Toronto
Taken: November 6th, 2013

In the long run, I have no regrets about who is in my life and who is not.

In the long run, I feel that last week played out exactly the way it was meant to be. 

In the long run, I feel I am a pretty good shit. 

Guess the $100,000 question would have be... Who likes a long running shit?

My truthful answer is I don't really care.

Bottom line is I worked very hard to save my money to have the ability to stand in the front row for my very favourite band. 

How be we crank up Desperado so you can come to your senses?!

Better yet, let us not. Too great a song to waste on your unexpected silliness.

Keep Calm and Carry On!

After an unexpected turn of events last evening; I ended up in my home office, with my Sirus radio cranked to the 70’s on 7. I don’t know about you, but no matter how freaking shitty I feel, music never seems to fail me.

Exhausted and asleep by nine thirty, I was wide awake from two until four this morning watching Love Actually. After falling back to sleep, I woke bright and early to discover one hot mess. The freezing rain outside was brutal and very dangerous; so text messaging over coffee, I decided my day off would be a bit of a chick flick/closet cleaning/get rid of a bunch of bullshit marathon.

Overall it's been a very quiet day. Every once in a while my eyes would get damp; but the blowing of my nose came primarily from the dust bunnies that I captured in whatever closet I was cleaning. Jumping into something big like rearranging furniture or reorganizing every single closet in the house is cathartic for me. It brings me a sense of balance as well as feeling of accomplishment. It's something I usually push myself to do especially if there happens to be a dark cloud hanging over my head.

As you can guess, yesterday was a productive day that very unexpectedly turned downright crappy. That said, I am proud of how I handled my latest challenge just the same. The glass half full part of me is impressed that it produced a bit of ah ah-ha moment. Which is something positive right?

Who knew after all these years, when I would raised my voice (with a compliment of tears) the people closest to me automatically presumed that "she's mad"? When that very statement was verbalized last night, for the very first time in my life, I confidently admitted what I thought was obvious; “I’m not mad… I'm hurt!”

I found this sign at a Vintage Store this summer.
Taken: August 2012

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I really don’t like being a bitch. In my mind, I have already approached something from a hundred different angles before I get dark (with a standard house volume that is far too loud). As you can expect, with my excess volume comes a painful razor sharpness to my words.

Almost 24 hours later all I can offer is an apology. I’m sorry if you missed my stellar performance last night. It wasn't my best and at the same token it wasn't my worst.

All I can say to those in attendance (for my one night limited engagement) ... REMEMBER IT.

Why? Because this theater is officially closed!

Is Leadership Thankless?

Certain things in my day to day life are really important to me.

How I spend my time has to be number one (heck it’s one to five) because life is short. Treating people the way I want to be treated is right up there too. If I go all “Tasmanian Devil” on you, believe me there is a reason! 

I’m not proud to admit that I can unequivocally be the single biggest bitch you may ever come across but I honestly try hard not to live my life in that lane. I am thankful for who I am and what I have. As a person, I feel I am generous. When it comes to sharing my friendship, life experience (been know to snow blow a driveway or two) I am there 120%. 

So here's the final jeopardy question. When you meet (or report to) someone in a leadership role, does that automatically change your perception of who they truly are?

My favorite quote of all time is “if you want to test someone’s character, give them power” I find that statement monumental. Yep, I am a leader. I am the first to put up my hand and admit that I dressed for the job I wanted (and that I have). But on days like today I have to put this out there... Why is leadership so thankless?

No point in explaining why I am asking the question (one leads in hopes that others will gravitate to the overall philosophy that enables them to receive a bi-weekly paycheck) but I raised my voice today. I have never done that in the workplace before.

Not going to lie, it has my heart heavy and my glass of wine chilled. That said, there is one thing I know for sure....

Tomorrow is a new day and I always GREET each new day!

Well I Feel Stupid...

I was proud as a Peacock last night after I'd posted my first blog entry. So excited that I immediately shared the link with my Facebook friends & Twitter followers and I waited.

I must admit, I was not prepared for what happened next. I looked at the screen in horror as a fellow Facebook friend posted that I had missed the all-important and somewhat critical memo that “BLOGGING IS DEAD”!

Sufferin’ Succotash! How could this be? I love blogs. I appreicate the community of real bloggers who use real blogging software which now officially includes MOI! Dead...? If I were dead how could I still be typing? Come on it's a valid question...

All joking aside, the fact that I have never made the commitment to keep a personal blog going until now hasn't made them less appealing to me but why the perceived change in status? After all death is so final. 

Did the ease of Facebook send bloggers to the unproven grave? Did Twitter followers make the blogging community drink the Kool Aid? "Take a sip" and you'll never type 140 characters the same way again! 

I say the answer is neither. Blogging may be changing but you know what they say about change, "You can't stop it only manage it". Meaning there is an awful lot of URL shortened links on Twitter than lead us to one type of blog or another.

At the end of the day, if I peel the layers of the onion back, I am sure I'm just pissed at the fact that I missed the memo! Imagine how Perez Hilton feels!!!

Cheers.