MY HEARTBROKEN SMILE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#YaGottLaughAboutIt

G IS FOR GRASS

I am a firm believer that the grass is never greener on the other side.
It only appears that way... Because it's showered with bullshit!

X IS FOR X-AMPLE

My 2019 April A-Z Blogging Challenge posts will primarily consist of words & corresponding quotes. (With the odd electronic journal entry inserted to keep you on your toes.)

R IS FOR RESPECT

My 2019 April A-Z Blogging Challenge posts will primarily consist of words and corresponding quotes.
(...With the odd opinionated electronic journal entry inserted to keep you on your toes.) 

FOUR VALID POINTS

Let me set the tone by sharing that a male friend of mine posted an meme on Instagram yesterday that literally made me laugh out loud. It referenced general communication most married couples relate to.
It read: 
My wife just stopped & said, “You weren’t even listening were you?” 
I thought… “That’s a pretty weird way to start a conversation?!” 

To create a context for that comment, there’s an old adage that a men & women have so many words they must verbalize in a day. By the time a man gets home, he’s used up all his words. But, because his wife’s words are at least double, she wants to talk for hours after her man ultimately wants quiet...Which is NOT the case here.

Even though I am a full blown extrovert, I deal with so many people on any given work day that I have no desire to be the least bit chatty when I get home. The same goes for when we travel. It’s like we completely switch our day to day personas. He wants to participate in every single event by the pool (not to mention lead the conga line at night) and I want to quietly exist on the periphery with a good book.

To further that, in day to day life this last year, the less we communicate, the better we co-exist.

As I reflect on that last comment I realize in the early days, I expected him to be able to read my mind. As the first & second decades passed, I began to understand repeating myself multiple times was generally what I signed up for. Now, 99% of the time, I just take care of what I need done without asking. This simple tweak's rewarded me a strange sense of accomplishment, eliminating a track record of disappointment.

As an example, we closed the cottage today and very few words were exchanged. We headed in with a task to be completed, and in less than a hour we were headed home. Could it be that all these years later, there are no real need for extra words? 

Part of me thinks it's because we know the other and our routine so well that there isn't a need for dialogue. The other side of that coin is that in the past 30+ years I have come to realize the following:

i)   He can't, nor has any desire to read my mind.

ii)  Never test him on what I am feeling, because he will fail.

iii) Don't dry hump a scenario for a change in attitude. It will only result in chaffing.

iv) Lastly, when truly seeking undivided conversation, always lead with an engaging topic. (My personal experience is that the top ten topics are generally sexual in nature.)

What can I say? Over the years, we've both discovered less is ultimately more. Which is why I found that Instagram post so gosh dang funny...

I don't care who you are.

Always root for the amateurs trying to make a go of it!

The hat wearing husband & his sun kissed hag embracing Muskoka cottage life.
TAKEN: CANADA MAY 2-4, 2011

D IS FOR DAUGHTER

My best friend. My closest confidant. My daughter.
TAKEN: 1996 - 2018

THE ART OF PATIENCE

Well, my almost year long quest for a clean bill of health had me starting my work day in my home office this morning. Closing in on the end of what feels has been a bit of a mini marathon, I am glad to share that I'm feeling fan-tab-u-lus!

Because I had an appointment, I didn’t have to meet the carpool this morn. Yet, as I do every morning, I woke up on schedule to a steaming pot of fresh perked coffee and let the pups out to do what we all of do when we wake up in the morning.

Still dark outside, I found it odd that I had to almost coerce Dot back into the house with treats. As soon as the sun rose she wanted back out, so just before 8am I let her go. At her age, there’s no need to tie her as she always stays within earshot; or so I thought.

Working away I lost track of time. As my tummy rumbled for sustenance, I realized I hadn’t heard a peep from Dot. Not coming when called, I ventured into the back gully, all gussied up in the ugliest bathrobe & drop dead bedhead imaginable. What I found was my pup no longer able to stand. She'd clearly remained on high alert for her arch red nemesis for more than 3 hours, which easily displays the art of patience. 

Spottie Dottie on high alert for Big Red!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 11th, 2017

I have been thinking a lot about patience lately. Specifically certain people around me, and their lack thereof it. Is it a symptom of midlife and old age? Because mine seems to be increasing, opposite of my husband whose is steadfastly plummeting. Five/six years ago I use to tune it out. A couple of years ago I use to point it out. Now a days I just tend to roll my eyes, laugh about it, and carry on.

The funny thing is the topic of patience comes up once in a while in our carpool chit chat sessions and the Sweeny-Meister always wonders why I don’t let it affect me. I usually have a response that gets a true belly laugh out of her but when the laughter ceases, my final summation is always the same: why would I bother?

I truly believe that I am at the point in my life where I pick my battles and the truth of the matter is I simply no longer have any desire to fight. Though strong in spirit and a full blown extrovert, I’d rather be alone than be around unnecessary drama.

Honestly, if I look deep, I think of patience as that trigger that proves I'll never stop hoping. I truly do have such hope. So much like Dottie, I'm unwilling to give up. Even though, more often than not, my heart knows the truth.

... That I'm simply nothing but an absolute idiot. A fiercely patient, absolute idiot.

Thanks for reading.

PEANUTS FROM HEAVEN

If you're nice to an animal, it loves you for life. 

If you're nice to a person, who the hell know what's going to happen.

~ Higher Perspectives (via Instagram)

Last summer, our eldest pup Dot had an episode. At that point, we knew she was pretty much on borrowed time. Then, about the middle of August, her temperament really shifted and she became aggressive toward the other pups. In hindsight, I believe that leading a pack of three was taking its toll on both her mind and her body.

So, after an aggressive growling and barking stint on a cottage Wednesday night, it was decided on that coming Saturday we would put her down. With no word of a lie, once those words were uttered aloud, she did a complete three hundred and sixty degree behavioural flip. It was almost like she instinctively understood that we’d decided her gig was up.

Well, more than a year later she’d doing very well. The majority of the time she moves slower than molasses in Muskoka in January but she still has an amazing quality of life. We help boost her into her bed in the bedroom when her hips decide to stay in the living room; but outside of that her disposition is great for a senior citizen.

My challenge with her is that winter is approaching and how do I help her manage in the copious amounts of snow that will fall.  I knew I'd need to keep her mind sharp as well as her feet moving in the house because she won't be able to spend an extended amount of time outside. After careful thought I came up with an answer…peanuts. I figured if she can chase the squirrels outside at the cottage, why can’t she chase them inside around the house.

Dottie waiting by the door for her exercise buddies to return.
TAKEN: OCTOBER 12, 2013

I started with the back deck. She has a dog chaise by the sliding door but when things are cooking she scurries from the deck to the dining room windows, back to the deck, to the living room windows and so on. (This weekend, I am placing a feeder on the big tree below my bedroom window so they can entertain her through the day.)

Not gonna lie, all the dogs have hopped on the bandwagon. I have been feeding the peanut hoarders for a couple of weeks and they will literally come within a foot of the sliding glass door when the last nut has been squirreled. I know some readers will say they are a menace and that they aren’t very smart; but our deck seems to be the hot spot for their buffet this fall. That said, I think they are anything but stupid.

Didn’t take them-thar suckers long to realize food was coming out but the dogs ain’t!

Annie and Puddin' getting in on the action.
TAKEN: OCTOBER 12th, 2016

WHO THE HELL KNEW?

In early stages of my electronic journal, I asked a simple question to the Ya Gotta Laugh About It masses (of about 35 readers) which was: do you ever feed an expired parking meter?

It was a quirky post about acquaintances that drift about your life at their leisure, then went on to explain how an acquaintance differs from a friend. Short story long, I ultimately categorized them as parking meters whose egos ultimately need to be fed. 

All of that said, a prior business acquaintance fed my expired meter yesterday. Out of the blue, my phone beeped touting those words that always make me curious... 'howdy stranger!' I smiled because I was perplexed, the number wasn't in my phone, so I immediately googled the area code that appeared on my screen. When the location appeared, I knew it had to be someone I hadn’t spoken to face to face since last summer, nor had a text message from in months. I must admit, not only did it feed my ego, it was a very pleasant surprise.

Pleasant surprise or not, I immediately wondered where the hell they got the cash to feed my meter. When I asked them what was up, they explained I had crossed their mind as they'd traveled to an old supplier we both use to sell for. What ensued next, was a great electronic conversation. Even though I no longer work in the industry, it was like I’d never left. Mission accomplished; my ego had been fed.

At the end of the day he asked about a mutual acquaintance we had. Someone he had met through me in the summer of 2012. It was that very inquiry that made me think of the parking meter post from 2011. I told him where I was at with this acquaintance he all these years later he only had four works in return. “I told you so,” was all I read.

Funny thing is? As acquaintances go, I honestly knew he was right about them in 2012.

Who the hell knew parking meters were so observant... and I,so gullible!

Medford, Wisconsin.. Where I met the industry person that fed my parking meter today.
TAKEN: OCTOBER 2011

THE ANGST OF IT ALL

I am feeling a level of anxiety in my life right now that I haven’t experienced in a very long time. I was chatting with my very best electronic friend yesterday and though he was no help whatsoever with my issue, he made me laugh about it. Which, as you know, is simply the best medicine.

I remember the day I took this photo. I was transitioning.
TAKEN: APRIL 2008

When we checked in with each other at lunch today, I admitted that I was teary.  What I didn't admit, was that  yesterday I led him to believe my angst was being fueled by one simple thing, the honest truth is that it’s more than that. 

My deeply ingrained fear of the unknown has taken over my very active imagination. It's not bad enough that I focus all day on the plethora of variables next week may bring, last night I dreamt about them. For some very obvious reasons, I don’t think that’s normal. So, here's the skinny.

When I left my dream job in December 2013, I really didn’t want to go. The truth of the matter is that I knew I had to; for my personal, as well as my emotional survival. After verbalizing my next move to a friend last Friday, I realized that there is still a very deep hurt inside me, that has yet to heal and it all doubles back to the way I was previously treated. I heard myself admit aloud that I worry that it will happen to me again. I don’t want to think like that but I have a zero sense of trust in a number of areas of my life and this dog infested with fleas is at the forefront.

As I share my feelings, I'm sure it must read like sad case of paranoia on my part but the dead nuts honest truth is that it’s sheer fear. I thought I would end my working career with this other company. I took their results and to a level they'd never previously experienced and in return I was treated like a big fat bag of poo. After such a hurtful experience like that, how does one ever trust again? 

Not sure if you'd agree but I've decided to have faith. At this juncture in my life, my heart tells me that it’s the best place to start.

Once again... Thanks for listening. 

DOES ANYONE TRULY KNOW YOU?

Does anyone truly know you? How’s that for a loaded question on this brisk winter day?!

I believe we only allow people to know the parts of our personality that suit/compliment that specific friendship (Business or otherwise) and its synergy. To totally oversimplify, I often choose the easiest route to get to know someone. Then, over time, I decide if they are a long term fit to remain in my personal life. I don’t know about you but for obvious reasons, I treat a true friend, an everyday friend, an electronic friend and an acquaintance very differently. 

So, having said that, other than my husband and children, I have a very small handful of people that truly know me. You know the type? Those that can ask and/or say anything to me and I will be completely honest and myself in my reply. Those I can share my fears, my excitement, my passions and my dreams with. I can do that, because over time, they have earned my trust. When tested, they were loyal. When challenged, they were honest. 

No hair, no makeup, no problem... He loves me no matter what!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 27th, 2014

So, back to my question. Who truly knows you?

Though a few come in a close second, my husband really does know me best. We’ve always got a lot on the go, yet still find the time to unconditionally be there for one and other. 

It's not like we discuss every little thing, we can just simply sense when one needs the other and we step up to the plate!

For instance, we were walking into the grocery store this weekend and my mind had been elsewhere for a couple of days. I was very quiet and my brow was heavy. I could feel that my shoulders were curving inward and my thought process 100% negative. Less than a dozen steps in, and without hesitation, he grabbed my hand. We simply looked at each other, smiled and continued walking. It felt amazing not to have to talk about it.

I'd like to think he grabbed my hand because he wanted to... but I'd been a pretty big bitch, so it could have been self-preservation on his part. At the end of the day (Cole's Note version) I suspect he didn't want to have to sleep with one eye open for fear I'd kill him in the night, so he gambled and went for my hand. I also envision him thinking, if  he grabed my hand, there'd be an outside chance he might hit the jackpot and get laid.

To put your mind at ease peeps, I am pleased to report he happily went to work this morning. HA...Told ya he knew me.

Ya Gotta Laugh About It!

S IS FOR SOULMATE

I’m not a person that is easily shocked or surprised. I guess that's why this moment had such impact.

I hadn't heard from my closest confident in a few, so I fired them off an email to simply check in. I quickly got a reply. It didn't have a subject title, so I instantly knew that something was wrong. I opened it and read the news in disbelief.

After almost twenty five year of marriage (with two grown daughters, in the final stages of University) my soulmate announced that they were separating from their spouse. Apparently, one wanted things the other didn't and it seems that neither wanted to continue working in the same direction. I was shocked.

Worried, I automatically picked up the phone. I listened, yet offered no opinion; after all, this was ultimately their journey, not mine. Listening to the explanation of their situation truly broke my heart. I do feel compelled to share that this is the very same friend that listened endlessly to my woes, telling me that ‘communication's key’ and that ‘talking about what the issues are will get you through anything!’ 

I don’t believe we have any idea who will (or will not) impact our lives until it has happened. Right or wrong, I believe that we marry our true life partner and differing souls flow in an out of our lives as well. Zack is most definitely a soul mate. I will unconditionally support him on his journey, as he supported me on mine.

That doesn't mean that I couldn't slap the living crap right out of him for not taking his own advice but I love him just the same. Men: they can be so gosh dang stubborn sometimes.

UH-OH... POT... KETTLE... BLACK!!

I AM Happy... Yet I Have Questions.

Looking back at my posts from this time last year, I know I didn’t have a single ounce of self-esteem; truth of the matter, I hadn’t had any for about the five years previous. I'll admit that I  was reading a lot to understand my situation at hand but I was at a complete loss, and had been for a very long time.

My really great stories are told when I smile with my eyes...

I may have regained my self esteem since but I still have some questions; the last six months tell me I always will.

Seriously? The personal biggie? Does everything happens for a reason?

If that's the case, what was MY reason?

If I am completely honest with myself, part of what's happened to me was due to how the journey with my father ended.  I know that sounds like a bit of a crutch. Yet, when do we really need crutches? We need them to aid us when we are hurting. After the last couple of weeks, it has become apparent that I am still in pain. Which is why I am finally going into grief counselling.

My daughter posted this graphic this morning and I immediately did two things; I saved it to my phone so that I could share it with all of you, and I sent it to a friend. Not because our friendship had some tragic ending; I just wanted to let them know, that no matter how many questions I have, I wouldn't change a single chapter of our story.

At the end of the day, isn't it the really great stories that provide one big happy ending?

What do ya know? Imagine that... Yet another question!

There's A Fine Line Between Love & Hate

 "To forgive is to set a prisoner free & discover that the prisoner was you." 

- Louis B. Smedes

Well, my first day back at work for 2013 was a good one. 

Though I would have rather stayed in bed and watched Sex In The City reruns all day, I did the responsible thing and hauled my sorry fat ass into work. As expected, it started off slow and relatively uneventful. In fact, I recall wishing my first cup of coffee was a five hour energy drink!

Unexpectedly, about an hour in, I received a very sincere email. After reading it, I resigned myself to the idea that perhaps “it was time.” I’ve had a couple of things lingering over my head and one thing in particular just kept resurfacing. So, after them reaching out over my vacation, as well as a heartfelt email this morning, I decided to finally deal with it.

Today I did... and it feels good!

It’s hard for me to admit that I have had people betray me and I have let them. 

Some I have forgiven because I knew they couldn’t help themselves and some I’d knew I would never speak to again. Why? Because for all intense purpose, their betrayal unconditionally helped me decide that they didn’t deserve to be in my life. 

My situation today was one that I thought was the latter. With that in mind, here's the million dollar question... How do you know when it’s time to forgive? At what point do you bargain in good faith and call a truce? 

When I was growing up my mother use to warn me that “there’s a fine line between love and hate…” The other side of her philosophy was to never hate anyone because hatred consumes far too much energy. She'd say, "Rhondi, it's takes a lot of energy to hate someone” and she was right on all counts.

My decision today most certainly wasn't an epiphany. It was like we had decided that together we'd peel away the layers of an onion (and it took us all day to to it). The more the emails flew back and forth, the more we both realized that the feelings of hurt were not only mutual; but felt that blame belonged to the other, contributing the severity of the hard feelings. 

Because of the effort we both made today I have to have faith. I guess faith is the price you have to pay to forgive someone. Call me quirky if you must, just don’t ever call me Ma’am.  Seriously, I mean that. Call me Ma'am and I'll kill ya!