O CROOKED TREE! O CROOKED TREE!

About a week ago I blogged about struggling to put up the Christmas tree. The bigger shock was that I was generally proud that I didn’t snap during the process. As you all know, I’m not an over the top ‘Tis the Season kinda gal. However, because I’ve had a really great splash of sun and I am still wearing a perma-smile, I decided to go on the record admitting that I'm a tad more tolerant of the upcoming festive season than in previous years.

Then, all hell broke loose. I was venting to my friends on Facebook about this crooked tree I bought. Hang on, let me grab the post. Here you go. It read: OK. I bought the Christmas Tree from HELL. If it falls over one more time, I'm gonna go all Grinch on it and fire it into the gully, never to be rescued or decorated ever again! ...This concludes my Christmas rant at this time. Cheers! Suffice is to say it engaged us in a plethora of comical rant of comments. 

Love may make our house a home....
But this crooked tree is making it hard for me to not turn it into firewood!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 18th, 2014

Well, guess what? 

The stinkin' thing fell over again! 

Did I go all Grinch on it and pitch it in the gully? Nooooo.

Why? Because it's Christmas dang nab it; and I love the look of a Christmas tree all lit up and pretty after dark. 

Anyway, as I was explaining my plight to an electronic friend today, I immediately got a smart ass email asking why I didn't secure it after the second time it fell? Aside from the fact that this specific lad has been crossed off my Christmas card list, here's the deal...

I'm a pretty bright girl and this is a tree. Isn't the normal assumption that they tend grow relatively straight and not on an 80 degree angle? Exactly! I simply figured it was my incompetence rather than a genetic imperfection that was making this puppy fall. At the end of the day, I think I have gravity under control.

What the hell... it's not rocket science is it? Of course not. If it were, I'd be applying Polysporin to the exposed knots on the trunk of the tree and grabbing a set of booster cables to give those Christmas lights an extra boost.

Don't ask... Just smile. Trust me on this one.

SHOEd HAVE KNOWN BETTER!

To set the record straight, compared to some of my girlfriends, I don’t have anything close to what most consider a shoe fetish. Truth of the matter is that my tender tootsie hobby pales in comparison to my obsession with a first class concert going experience. However, I'm not disrespectful of the process. When I come across a pair of shoes that truly speak to me, I bust open my piggy bank and toddle them all the way home.

Well, this past Friday night was one of the few times this year that I’ve actually gotten dressed up and headed out. Not gonna lie, I had looked forward to the shindig all week. Not because I was excited to be wearing the new dress my husband had bought me, but because I knew it would perfectly complement the sexiest pair of shoes I own.

Let’s face it, it’s mid-life for me. Any function that keeps me awake later than ten o’clock at night is rarely attended. Well, Friday night was a whopper. You can imagine that I didn't make it home by ten, and when I finally did arrive, I was a glittery hot mess!

Glass half full...? The house wine was very nice. Yet, too many glasses half full were savoured and consumed.

My photo does not do my very sexy babies justice *sniff*
TAKEN: DECEMBER 16th, 2014

The moral of my story is… Not only did I pay for it all weekend, so did my very super sexy shoes!

My social media friends know that when I recently returned from vacation I got a puppy (those closest to me understand why). Her name is Annie.

She's settled in quite nicely and I am having great success training her. She's smart but as expected each and every day her teeth get sharper. I really wasn't worried about it as we have a lot chew things scattered around the house... or so I thought.

The sad part of my story is that Annie isn't the one that chewed my shoe. It  was my oldest Dottie that did the deed and she did it slowly and quietly so that she wouldn't be caught. Kinda like me with a Sex In The City marathon and a family size bag of Miss Vickie's Sea Salt & Malt chips. In a nutshell, guess when us bitches have our compulsions, there's simply no stopping us.

The truth of the matter is that I will really miss this specific pair of shoes.

Last weekend's hangover...? Not so much!

Please Note: No dogs were harmed in the making of this Post... Nor were any Miss Vickies chips consumed during and/or after the photo shoot!

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!!

MY QUIRKY SIDEKICK AND ME...

Day before yesterday, one of my closest friends and I had our very first fight. When it was happening, I was in shock and hoped it was just a silly misunderstanding. The unfortunate part, is that prior to that realization, the super shitty train wreck had already left the station. I guess if there’s a silver lining to our scenario, it would have to be that we know each other well enough that when I called a time out, we both respectfully took it.

Forty eight hours later, what was disagreed upon truly isn't the big deal. The bigger deal is that in the almost fifteen years that we’ve been friends, there hasn't been so much as a harsh word between us; simply a boat load of laughter, interwoven with heartfelt love and unconditional support.

At the end of the day, I suppose the reality is that any/all long term friendships are like a marriage. There are certain elements of give and take and they're a hell of a lot of hard work. I imagine that is why some don’t sustain. It’s easier to give up than to persevere. I am the first to admit that easier relationships always present themselves, so the ones that require investment, generally hit the sidelines. Not every time... but I’m sure you’ll agree, more often than not.

GOOB AND SQUID.... FOREVER, QUIRKY SIDEKICKS!!!
TAKEN: TORONTO  ~ SUMMER OF 2012

My point (because I honestly do have one) is that you should never focus on the work, only the reward. 

As bizarre as it may sound, after my Quirky Sidekick and I took our time out, I immediately thought of my son and his Quirky Sidekick, that is a girl but not his girlfriend.

She's been apart of our family for-ever (and endured the crap that comes along with that specific badge, with amazing grace and honour). Those two have been through so much together, for them to wake up and not to be friends, almost seems wrong. 

They, just like me, have learned that people will come and go. If you're willing to dig in your heels and invest in someone, it can last a lifetime. (After seeing them together on the day I left on vacation... I may need to call Squid for some advice on my current quirky conundrum!)

Well, seeing as I am being honest, I suppose I should come clean with the fact that I am almost embarrassed to admit that I have little experience in calling a time out. Outside of my marriage, I've always let the train steamroll ahead and dealt with it after that fact. 

I guess I didn't hesitate this time, because I absolutely know we're BOTH worth it!

I love you Quirky... My husband knows you love me too.

Let's really try to never fight again xo

FINALLY …A FORMULA?

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

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

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

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

Enjoying the Pineapple Festival festivities
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 22, 2014

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

Here's to officially maintaining rather than sustaining.

...In every single aspect of my life. 

TIME REALLY DOES HEAL…

As soon as I arrived home this week, I promptly received a text message from my very favourite Coffee Buddy. He told me that he didn’t want to see me until my tan had faded, so I immediately replied, “…See you next April!” 

Oliver's Coffee... Where well groomed women frequently get stood up!
#yagottalaughaboutit
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 2014

Knowing we had million and one things to discuss, we decided to meet at our favourite table this morning at 8 o'clock sharp. I arrived on time and HE stood me up!

When I realized it was happening again, I instantly grabbed my phone and sent a text to one of my closest confidants.

I explained that it this was the third time in as many coffee dates that he’d forgotten about me and that I was beginning to get a complex. Then, I proudly confirmed his pressing questions; that I had in fact showered, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair. He in turn told me to sit tight.Which I did, smiling.

Some days I find it hard to fathom how much my life and personal direction have changed since quitting my job last December. The one thing I do know, is that when I was transitioning this time last year, it was this mornings texting buddy that unconditionally supported my decision (and somewhat fragile state of mind). Matter a fact, I posted a year ago this past week, that I wholeheartedly hoped when I landed, they would remain in my life. They have. (CLICK TO READ: ANYONE GOT A BENCH I CAN BORROW?) 

Speaking of last year, once my coffee date finally arrived, we got straight to work. I was telling him about a gentleman within his industry that had left his long term place of employ and started over because he could no longer work for his Boss’s son. I didn’t so much as have the words out of my mouth, when who the hell wandered into our java hut? My old Boss’s son!

Because Pete had his back to the door, I carefully watched as Junior noticed me, then proceeded to try and make eye contact. I have no desire to ever speak to him again, but I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of emotion which accompanied my seeing him for the very first time since resigning. Even now as I type… Nothing. 

My anger and hurt have subsided, but more importantly, I have moved on. The even better feeling is that I have taken my passion, work ethic, and business knowledge elsewhere. This time, I have entrusted them wisely: I’m happy.

That said, I’d be gloriously ecstatic if he’d quit standing me up!

Naaaw, waiting for him gave me a minute to catch up with others that really matter too.

SNORK-A-DOODLE-DOO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HE’S... ON MY BANDWAGON!

I have always been a huge music fan. A true fan, not a fussy music fan like some people I know. As long as there’s a half decent beat, I’m into it. Hell, hand me a pair of spoons and I’ll always get the party started. That love of all things music has transformed me into a concert going junkie. As a result, once the kids left, I went on an amazing magic carpet/concert going bender.

Truth of the matter is my husband and I were in different lanes at that time, so it was Goob that convinced me that going to any concert alone would be a blast. I remember him telling me “everyone around you is there for the very same reason you are. They all love the music as nuch as you do.”  Guess I realized that if it didn’t bother him to go to events alone I should give it a try. I decided to start planning my solo treks. More than three years later, I have saved every ticket stub and I've loved each and every experience.

He loved his Birthday seats!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 15th, 2014

Other than his obsession with The Band, my husband is a huge CCR/John Fogerty fan. Last winter he’d mentioned that he was coming to Canada. He also admitted that he was worried that at sixty nine years of age, this may be his last touring hurrah.

I had told him that I had tried to get tickets to three of his closest stops to us but hadn't been successful. He was disappointed, yet never worried too much about it. Then, for his birthday last summer, I presented him with the tickets I'd purchased the day they went on sale. He was ecstatic. 

Never the fan of his magnitude, I suggested he take one of our sons; he insisted that I accompany him. When all was said and done, I had a blast. I am so use to attending alone that I got in the zone and stayed there from the time he came on the stage until he finished. Walking back to the hotel, I admitted to my husband that I enjoyed the John Forgerty show better than the Eagles. He agreed. It wasn’t just the seats, the Show (not to mention the overall vibe) was just top notch.

It was neat to hear him talk of his experience to fellow Canadians the following morning as we waited to take off at YYZ. As I listened to him chatting, I was glad that he'd finally jumped on my really great bandwagon. After all these years... He finally gets it. 

As I listened to my husband chatting about, I couldn't help but think of my good buddy Zack. He's the only other person that has lived vicariously through my experiences and loved each and every one of my concert going outings as much as yours truly. 

I worry. He's in such a bad spot that I didn't have the heart to mention what he was missing. Not because I thought he'd be angry; it's just with the death of his Dad and other really big life changes I know he's spending his time on a very different bandwagon. 

Kinda sad really... but I know he knows I'll always be here for him no matter what!

LAS VACACIONES PERFECTAS

The funniest thing about typing that post title was that I didn’t. I literally cut and paste it from a Google English/Spanish translator site. (It means the perfect vacation for those of you as challenged as yours truly ...)

A good book, a cold drink, lots of sun... and a great photographer!
Taken: NOVEMBER 21st, 2014

Not gonna lie, after a week away, the only word I can express confidently in Spanish, is Ola. Yup, pleased to report that I nodded a lot: and said Ola a lot. 

I did sign up for a Spanish class (by the pool). Upon its completion, I immediately swam up to my man at the bar announcing that I was NOT going back to school the following day.

"Who knew they really wanted to teach me to speak Spanish" I said - like I'd been exposed to the Ebola virus. He'd had much more fun with his pool side event participation. Mine actually had a test. Hard to gravitate to a Prof that doesn't speak Ingles (in 90 degree weather) when I could be floating in the pool, drinking a Cuba Libra!

Smiles aside, I've been blessed to have experienced this beautiful country we live in from coast to coast, not to mention my fair share of States belonging to our neighbours to the South of us. I have also been fortunate enough to get to travel in the Caribbean; yet prior to this past week, I’d never experienced this type of serious language barrier. (I was shocked to meet only a dozen English speaking peeps.)

We stayed in an Adults Only Resort, so I found it interesting to watch how other couples communicated with each other without the distraction of the English language filling in the blanks for me. At the end of the day, everyone was truly there to reconnect, with their only distraction being the partner that they were there with. Hence my photo.

My husband isn't a book worm like me. I knew the library was closed once he sat up and said "Whooowkaaay...". It was code that I was to stop reading and that we were to head to his favourite bar on the beach. Just our luck,  our British friends from our sister resort were waiting for us for Tiffing Time.

Ya gotta love it. They'd be having a blast with Dire Straits cranked and blaring. Johnathon would be right lit, telling everyone how much he loved Canada. For the record, Sultans of Swing has always been (and always will be) one of my very favourite songs!!

Really, really, grand times.... All of which, ultimately weave, into the perfect vacation.

THROWBACK THURSDAY

Throwback Thursday, or #TBT, is a neat photo sharing activity that’s really popular on Instagram. For personal reasons, I refuse to get an Instagram account, so I thought this was a neat way to post the very throwback picture that made my day. It was taken at Busch Gardens on our very first trip to Florida (about three months before we were married).

THIS was a GREAT vacation!
TAKEN: MARCH 1988

Let me step back. It's not like I was having bad day. Matter a fact, it felt like the polar opposite. After waking to our first blanket of Frosty The Snowman snow, I was impressed that the morning rays were so bright I didn't need a boost from my happy light. 

I chatted with both Peter and JJ about business, then got an email from JC wishing me 'safe travels'. It wasn't until I read the words 'lucky you' that my doubts about heading out resurfaced.

I don’t know if it’s because my health's been under the weather for so long, or that I just have so much on my plate, but I don’t feel I’m in the right frame of mind to hop on a plane. 

All the other times we’ve traveled, there’s been that anticipation and chatter but it's different this time. I actually feel so off that I've asked my husband thrice (in as many days) if we can cancel. 'HELL NO' was all he'd say. So we're going. 

I completely understand where he's coming from. I lived at the cottage all summer and other than the odd extra long weekend, he hasn't had a break since Jamaica last February. Honestly? I think my issue is that even though I've been ill and I'm busy, I am coping really well with the time change and I don't want to jinx my ability to cope all season. I almost want to save my chits and hop on a plane when need it most, which obviously isn't in a minute and a half.

Maybe my husband's rrr-rrrr-rrr- correct.

Historically, our best adventures have always happened when we've least expected.

Sooo..... Pass me the suntan lotion Baby.

Mama's heading to the Beach!

FINALLY BIT THE BULLET

When it comes to my technology habits, I’m pretty old school. I love my Blackberry for its buttons, the same way I love my desktop computer for my keyboard. I love the sounds they both make as I plug along through my day; combined with my mouse, hearing them click offers me a productive feeling that I am accomplishing what I've set out to do. Yet, for some time now, I have been mentally preparing myself for Black Phone Day. 

You know the day? When Blackberry is either taken over or goes under. Until that day I refuse to make a change. I’m a proud and loyal customer that will remain a customer until it’s no longer an option for me. If I can contribute to saving just one Canadian job… You know the spiel.

Enjoying my one application wonder this morning over coffee!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 12th, 2014

Knowing that I may eventually move from RIM, I've chosen Samsung as their successor. The practical kinda gal I am, going to that type of tablet seemed obvious.

What made me finally bite the bullet? Well, I gave in for a couple of reasons. Heading away, I thought it may back-fill taking my laptop so that I can still write and fulfill my SM & web obligations.

WRONG on all accounts! 

I don’t like typing on it (...Peter tells me I just have to get the hang of it) and my eyes are failing me so badly that I find the text too small on the social media apps to be truly productive. Suffice is to say, the only thing I use it for is to play Candy Crush. With those three things admitted, it doesn't make the purchase very practical does it? 

That said, neither does the fact that I play Candy Crush. Oh my goodness, I can't believe I just admitted that. It's official... I'm going to hell in a hand basket!

Glass half full?

At least I know my new one app tablet is small enough to come along for the ride!!

LAST YEAR's WRITE OFF

I had to get a couple of items for my upcoming trip yesterday, so I took a road trip. The weather was crappy and the travel slow going; but I made it there and home, safe and sound. As I was unpacking my goodies this morning, I decided I just might as well pack and get it over with.

I couldn't help but remember that this time last year I was rushing to meet my girlfriend at YYZ to hop a plane to YUL for a last minute weekend getaway. As an avid concert goer, I was lucky enough to catch The Eagles in Toronto on the Thursday night, then Bon Jovi in Montreal the following Saturday night. Hard to believe it’s been a year... A year since my sister decided that because she wasn't the one chosen for the jaunt, she’d stop speaking to me indefinitely. (...In The Long Run POST)

A year later, we still talk openly as a family about her choice. We’re all in agreement it was for the best. If it hadn't been this incident, it would have been something equally as petty, that resulted in the demise. Guess our family philosophy is simple: you can’t please someone who is ultimately unpleasable.

We traveled to Staci last Easter so we could spend the day as a family.
TAKEN: APRIL 2014

So I flash forward to my own three children.

Because my siblings are all so much older, my biggest fear raising my three would be they would estrange from one and other as they grew into adults.

Well, they're grown. 

I am pleased to report that they have evolved into three very different individuals that are siblings. Varying interests and varying lifestyles. Have they had their challenges with each other over the years? Absolutely.  Have they written the other off? Not a chance!

Matter a fact, at times they have been closer to each other than to both of us as their parents. I love that they can agree to disagree but ultimately look out for one and other. As I approach my 50th birthday, I can't help but be reminded that my Mother died at 57 years of age. Here's hoping they will always find a way to unconditionally support one and other. God forbid that Jukebox stops speaking to his sister because she took Goob to a Nicki Minaj concert instead of him.

Who the hell am I kidding? Jukebox thinks Nicki Minaj is a fecking idiot!

Just like that, a silly sibling write off has been averted!!

… HE SENT DIMES FROM HEAVEN

When we purchased our first home in December of 1988 we were ecstatic. It was three houses up from my Dad on the opposite side of very street I grew up on. We knew nothing about home ownership and had no idea that the math of the investment would have Kraft Dinner and tomato soup be our most cost effective grocery staples (both of which my husband refuses to eat to this day) for a very long time .

Times were definitely tough. To increase that hardship, I unexpectedly got pregnant. I remember the day the rabbit died. I also remember telling our next door neighbours before telling my husband. That very moment came flooding back to me a couple of weeks ago, as I stood in the exact spot in their backyard.

It was actually Poppa Peter's Birthday... But he let Jukebox believe the Party was really for him!
Taken: August: 1992

Nana Anne, Poppa Peter & Auntie Andrea have been in my children’s lives since the moment they were born. They've unconditionally loved all of us and us them. Poppa Peter passed from complications to diabetes seven years ago this month and Nana Anne unexpectedly left us this past summer. That unexpected (very heartbreaking) event has Auntie Andrea & I as close as ever.

A couple of weeks ago, Andrea and I got chatting on a Friday night and she told me a story. After her father's funeral, her sister needed to have had a chat with him and asked him to send her a sign. “Don’t send me pennies from heaven Dad” she asked a loud, “...I wanna see at least dimes!”

From that moment on, dimes began to appear in the strangest places. Since his death, the most poignant spot had to be the morning Nana Anne passed. The pets were on the bed with her, and there was a dime on the floor beside her. 

Do you want to know what's even more amazing? Because 911 was called, the Police arrived before Andrea. She continued to tell me that she'd never sat in Poppa Peter’s chair since he’d passed. Well, unbeknownst to the Police, they cleared the chair off in preparation of her arrival. When she went into shock, that is where she was placed.... Into her father's chair

When I was over to the house that following Saturday & Sunday after our chat... Jacquie, Andrea, and I, lovingly reminisced about them both. As we worked (moving, sorting and loading a trailer for landfill) we talked of the dimes that were being sent from heaven.

When the guys picked up Poppa Peter's chair (the very chair the Police sat Andrea in) there was a dime sitting underneath in full view. What a moment. You know what the dime beside the bed and under the chair signify to me?

Nana Anne wasn't meant to take her journey to heaven alone. I'd like to believe that he came to greet her. Once she passed, he wanted to reassure Andrea that he was there for her too.

I don't know about you... but I'll never look at a dime the same way again.

Rest in Peace Anne and Peter. We will always love and miss you both very much. 

WHAT A GREAT DAY TO PACK IT IN...

Well, as you know, the clocks fell back this morning. So to be proactive, before I went to bed last night I walked around the house and changed them all. I didn't want to wake up to any surprises. As you know, I hate surprises but turning the clocks back is also a chore I dread. It's like Groundhog Day for me except there isn't a 50/50 outcome option. There WILL be six more weeks of darkness!

What a magnificent day to say... "That's a wrap". CHEERS!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 2, 2014

When I woke for the day it was game on. Made the coffee, lovingly sipped it, read my email, got myself dressed and we ventured to the cottage. Yes-sir-ree Bob-a-roonie... Today was cottage closing day!

Funny when you've been doing something so long it seems effortless. The only chore added to my list this year was disassembling the additional outdoor shower walls that had to be erected (no pun intended) to block out my creepy neighbour. As the power tool queen, I was on that task like white on rice!

The other nice thing was because I'd lived there until Thanksgiving, everything was much more organized. So much so that we shaved a half an hour off our fastest closing record. The only sad part about completing the task at hand quicker than expected was that we had to leave this glorious day behind. 

Feeling completely and totally gypped of another night in my favourite place, I have to admit that this will be my very last 2014 post from the cottage.

That is unless.... I get what I want for Christmas... Stay tuned! 

ACCEPTANCE WAS KEY... FOR ME

NOTE TO SELF: Pile the rest of the wood.
TAKEN: OCTOBER 30th, 2014

Like most mornings, I watched the sun come up from my desk. I sat there in my jammies enjoying my hot cup of coffee while gazing out the window at the glorious sun rising. Yup, I greeted my new day completely and unconditionally lost in my thoughts. When my daydream ended, I grabbed my camera and headed outside to snap my pic.

I’d like to say that it was because the natural light was perfect for the filter I had on the camera lens; but that would be a lie. I was simply using a point and shoot digital and my windows need cleaning. Had I of taken it from my desk, it would have been brutal! 

Staying on the “total honesty” bandwagon, I should probably admit that I slept in this morn. Where I live, the days are quickly getting shorter, so I ventured outside shortly after 8am. Why so late rising? I couldn't sleep; therefore, I couldn't wake up.

It's really hard to turn the mind off of a results driven individual. Just doesn't happen. 

The tough lesson I've learned in these last couple of years is about my personal expectation of those around me. As a die hard optimist, I have realized that there will always be personal dysfunction. It's called life. However, in Business, systemic dysfunction is much harder to fix. 

What I am trying to say is that when something (internally) in Business is perpetually broken, the only long term fix is to start at the beginning. Either start over, or walk away from the investment and passion of the effort.

Personally, as a middle aged woman, I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I've just recently had to apply those specific philosophies to my personal life. Peeps... Never lose sight of the fact that trust is earned. Once broken: more often than not irreparable.

So believe me when I admit my 'better late than never' acceptance...

Is why I had a really great day!

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?!?!

AIRING SOME VERY DIRTY LAUNDRY!

Let me start by saying that I have been friends with Rod Bullock since Public School. 

Actually, I asked him this morning when he started working for Mr. Burton at Centennial Coin Laundry, and together we figured out it was the Fall we were in grade nine, which was 1979. All of Mr. Burton’s customers loved him. So, no one in town was even remotely surprised when Mr. B sold the business to Rod. That was over thirty three years ago.

I don’t think I've ever shared this before but about three years ago I started doing my laundry at the laundry mat. I never really knew what the going rate for doing laundry outside the home was (and with Rod’s parking lot always full) I found myself next door at Fabricare for almost a year. Then, in the late Fall of 2012, my husband realized a couple of hours a week WAS much more efficient and agreed to help. The first thing he did was switch us over to Centennial Coin Laundry so that he could visit with Rod.

Well, when I changed jobs last year, my husband’s job also changed. Now he was the one that worked a few hours every weekend getting his guys ready for a smooth running Monday morning, so once again I assumed the laundry duties. Well, last Saturday, Rod’s was totally jammed, so I found myself next door at what-cha-ma-call-its. When I entered, I discover I was all alone; the only person doing laundry in a facility that feels twice the size of Rod’s.

The first thing I noticed was the price of the washers. The second thing I noticed, was a label on the dryers stating that I should expect to pay three plus dollars to dry an average load of laundry. I found that odd, because I normally only pay $1.25 to dry a load next door. I’ll be honest and admit that this post isn't about the money as much as it is about the way I was treated.

I’m in Sales & Marketing; I ask every single person I meet how business is multiple times a day. Doesn't matter if you’re a pizza delivery guy or an investment banker, in my opinion it’s all relative. So, as the only patron in the facility, I couldn't help but notice the level invested dollars I was surrounded by and (in the couple of hours I was there) the fact that the only revenue being generated was thanks to my dirty laundry. Curious, I asked... “is it always this slow?” 

I am a very happy Centennial Coin Laundry CUSTOMER!
Taken: October 26th, 2014
(CLICK HERE to read Stephen's DAVID v. GOLIATH Post)
Main Street Retail: David v. Goliath in a Small Town

(C) STEPHEN SPARROW.

“Depends…” was the passing reply. (Matter a fact she was just downright rude.)

“I couldn't help but notice how busy it was next door” I continued.

“Well, those people aren't use to the experience you get here” was her pretentious and very condescending reply.

It was her tone. Those people… Those people… Those people. I was gobsmacked. I couldn’t believe my ears. THOSE PEOPLE!!!

Without missing a beat I responded: “I feel the need to tell you something,” I said. “I am only here this morning because I couldn't get in next door. It was totally packed!”

She shrugged her shoulders and walked away from me. I was her only customer. I was solely responsible for the only revenue generation to pay her wages. Didn’t matter. I gave her the chance to redeem herself yet she didn't. After all, I'd disclosed that I was one of THOSE PEOPLE!

Anyway, when I was greeted by an always busy Rod this morning, I asked him what’s the best time to arrive to do my laundry;  then I told him my story, and that I was going to Blog about it. He in turn produced a post that one of his very successful cottage clients wrote about him this last Labour Day Weekend.

I wonder how Stephen will feel knowing he too is one of THOSE PEOPLE from across the alley?! Hopefully he's as proud as I am to be one. 

Keep up the GREAT work Rod! You've wholeheartedly earned & deserve my business. 

...HOW MANY MORE SLEEPS?

It's official. Booked and paid for, I'm taking an exciting last minute vacation next month!

It wasn't something that had been on my radar but as I looked at spending a boatload of money for an extended stay in February, I slowly began analyzing. Turns out there's a significant cost savings taking two one week vacations (a few months apart) rather than two weeks together mid winter.  

Truth of the matter is, last year I realized a week just isn't long enough in February. We're so far north, we lose two travel days getting there and coming home; then once you've decompressed and get into a routine, it's time to start packing to come back home to the snow. 

After I couldn't solidify the February plans, I started to reflect about our Christmas vacation of 2012. (We'd packed up our pups and headed to a house on the beach in South Carolina.) Having that shot of Vitamin D before the real crux of winter hit was amazing. Then, with the thought of how truly perfect that trip was, got me to thinking.

...Which brings me to today.

Right after I see another 'Bucket List' concert, I'm heading to YYZ the following morning and jumping a 7:30am plane. In less than a month from now, I'll be running along an amazing stretch of beach in the Caribbean. Screw my new treadmill... I'll be running and singing, while baking in the morning sun!

I don't know about you, but for me, there's something about the planning of any kind of time away, that makes me reflective of the adventures that I've already had.

Like anyone, I'm sure vacation moments are memorable because they've had some sort of defining personal moment; others, just seem to jump out as memorable because you know you'd never want history repeat itself. I try not to draw comparisons but over time I've developed a pretty specific 'must have' list.

So, once again, down to two and over thinking which resort (resulting in numerous phone calls throughout the process) my husband reminded me that the most important 'must have' was already in place and the the rest of the little shit won't matter.

"We'll be together" he said.

And just like that I handed over a credit card number... because that kind of logical thinking made the decision for us!

IS FAIRNESS TOO MUCH TO ASK?

I had a couple of meetings this morning. In my second, a colleague and I were chatting about a High School friend that dropped dead of a massive heart attack on Hallowe'en night.  After reminiscing about how amazing he was, we realized that it had been almost fifteen years since we’d lost him. After that realization, she and I just sat there speechless. Even today, I remember his laugh like I heard it yesterday.

Why so glum, chum? In less than a week I have received enough personal bad news to last me the rest of my life. Three people that I love with all of my heart have fallen unexpectedly ill; and, an indescribable tragedy claimed the life of our thirteen year old nephew. All of it, simply sad and so terribly unfair.

With Taylor laid to rest, instinct has me wanting to help all the others but I'm not entirely sure how I can. It's hard to explain, each of them are so close, yet so far. I'm sitting here typing feeling a little helpless. Yes, you've read that right, the consummate problem solver doesn't have a solution. It's painfully heartbreaking.

Every single one of the three I am speaking of have contributed to who I am today and ALL have provided life lessons. Admittedly, some of their lessons took a little longer to resonate than others, but none of them ever stopped teaching, nor ever gave up on me. I love them all very much and in a nutshell my life would suck without them in it!

As I quietly type and reflect, I can't help but be reminded of one very obvious fact. That life as we know it isn't always fair. 

...Doesn't mean a wouldn't gladly beg borrow or steal a little fairness tonight if I could.

Once again, thanks for listening.

HONEY, I'M HOME!

It's not closed... More emptied.
How perfect was it that the sun came out to greet me as I left?
TAKEN: OCTOBER 11th, 2014

Well, when my husband and I awoke to pouring rain this past Saturday morning; we immediately cut our spooning/catch up session short, to bite the bullet and officially move me home.

You know what? 

Even though I had started packing the week previous, I had no idea the amount of crap that still had to go up the hill. I've always steadfastly held the ground that I am not a pack rat but more than eight trips after the fact, I was still finding stuff that I didn’t want to leave behind.  Don't tell anyone... but it was a little embarrassing. All I kept saying to him was “HOLY SHIT... I honestly had no idea!”

Not because I thought he was mad but because I knew it was something he didn’t want to be doing on his Saturday morning off. So, to help curb the volume of potential whining, I offered he to do the packing of the kitchen while I did the crappy lugging up the fifty five steps. It's mornings like last Saturday that make me realize we really are a pretty amazing Team. 

No one can ever accuse me of making my husband do anything he didn't want to. He’s always been his own person, and over the years I have learned to become mine. After twenty eight years together, we have finally discovered, that even though we have different interests and varying circles of friends, communicating to one and other the wants and needs we both have, make our quality time together pretty amazing.

He really didn’t want me to move to the cottage this summer but I know he’s glad I did. It not only helped us evolve to the next level as a married couple…. But as a the great Team and best of friends we'd somehow lost track of being thanks to everyday life.

Funny how those light bulb moments sneak up on us isn't it?

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...!

MY FAVE FALL RIDE...

After blogging last night about being out here alone, once I posted, everything very quickly calmed down. So much so that I didn't have to stock the woodstove to sleep and when I got up for the day, I was pleasantly surprised that I didn’t need to spark it up then either. In a nutshell, today, unexpectedly, turned into an absolutely glorious day!

Puddin' soaking up the sun & enjoying the day!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 10th, 2014

I don’t know about you... But I have always loved the Fall. So, when I was thrown a very yummy weather nugget this morning, I decided to take full advantage of it.

To accommodate my already full schedule, I knew it would have to be a tit for tat day. Two very long ‘lists of things to do’ running parallel with both of them being worked at equally. I'd work on some SEO optimization, then packed excess clothing that has to head home. Spent an hour on a conference call, then went outside and raked the lower areas where I struggle to keep my footing on this anything but flat piece of land I am living on.

Part way through my second exercise, I was reminded, as I am every year, that I think I’m a bit of a freak. Just like shoveling snow, I really do love to rake. (As you can see by my pic, I had lots of help.) As the next thought grazed around in my mind, I couldn't help but chuckle with laughter.

Why? Well, you see, I have a very sexy rake. In a way, it’s very large tines (that fan so beautifully) remind me of the back of a really great convertible sports car. Seriously, as I was using it this morning, I had to admire it. Not only is it extremely stylish, it's much more practical for me this time of year.

PLUS... It's a thousand times sportier than the stinking all purpose corn broom I can usually be spotted riding around on the rest of the year!

HA!

MY LAST HURRAH....!

Next weekend is our Canadian Thanksgiving. With impending travel on my horizon, I had to be practical about an end date to my ‘co-operative cottage placement’. So, when I landed back here mid-afternoon last Saturday, I knew this had to be my final stint for 2014.

For whatever reason, today has felt a little eerie here.  The wind’s howling, and for the very first time this season, I sense that I am truly alone. As silly as this may read, I’m sure the dogs are sensing something too.

The view from my computer at 2:30pm today...
TAKEN: October 6th, 2014

I don’t care. I may be a little frazzled around the edges but I’m glad I am seeing my plan through. When I told my husband I was heading back in for another ten days, he wasn't near as enthusiastic as yours truly. Don’t misunderstand, he’s a 1000% supportive but he really doesn't love it here as much as I do.

Case in point, last week after my post about my former co-worker leaving the country and starting over, I had somebody forward me a clip art whooze-a-ma-whats-it that I shared with my husband. It read ‘…travel far enough, to meet yourself.'

My husband, like me, agrees that it isn't about the distance traveled, nor the number of stamps in your Passport  that defines your journey. It's your investment in yourself linked to the one that has your heart. Hell, look at me. I personally traveled a total of fifteen kilometers and accomplished the most amazing self-discovery imaginable!

What can I say? I believe that the only way to experience change is to seek it. The next important notable is that once you seek it you can’t stop it. You can only manage it.

...To the best of your personal ability!

I NEED A SPECIAL KINDA HUG

Well, my lack of sleep, and plethora of outside stresses, have finally caught up with me. I’m officially ill. I’m walking around the house with a box of Kleenex stuffed up my sleeve, my head is so stuffy I feel like H.R Puff ‘n Stuff, and I have aches where I haven’t ached since… well, never mind on that one. Let's just say, I have aches. 

To make things worse, everything I touched today turned into a gigantic hunk of poo!!!

Special kinda hug? Pfft... Can't even get the old fashioned kind!

I’m bat shit bitchy, I'm wallowing in complete and total self-pity, and I need a hug.

A special kinda hug.

The kind of hug that leads straight into sex!

Problem is my husband got home from work, took one look at me and immediately announced he was sleeping on the couch. What the hell? DUDE…Suit it up and take it for the TEAM!

As a chronic hand washer I rarely feel under the weather. The last time I was ill was when I returned from Jamaica last February. I’m sure I had something incubating whilst I was there but was certainly glad I didn't spend big bucks to stay in water closet for almost a week. In this instance, I really do believe it's stress. Unexpected emotional stress. The kind of emotional stress that gets relieved by that special kinda hug I was telling you about.

This too shall pass. When it does, the first thing I'm doing is digging out my husbands very favourite piece of lingerie. I'm going to prepare his favourite dinner wearing only that. I'm going to pour some wine, run a bubble bath and light some candles. Only then, will I whisper into his ear, asking if he'd like the special kinda hug I'm telling you about. Once he whispers his answer back, I'll... 

IMMEDIATELY CHANGE INTO MY FLANNEL JAMMIES... & SLEEP ON THE COUCH.

What can I say? Turn about is fair play BABY... Turn about's fair play!

MY FANTASTIC FOUR...

What a day. What can I say? I didn’t sleep last night anticipating my lunch meeting with the former coworker I mentioned a couple of days ago. It truly was a luncheon date that was ten months late, but I'm a firm believer that good things come to those who wait. Today did not disappoint.

Restless that I would be emotional, mid morning, I called in my Crew (a core group of guys that I keep in touch with that have also moved on from our former employer).  I asked them to meet me to say goodbye. I called them in for a couple of reasons; I knew my friend would be delighted to see them but more importantly I wanted today to be a happy goodbye. I did NOT want to cry. Tall order for this cat from the get go.

It’s hard to describe the amazing energy we created when all of us were back together: in one word, powerful. It was heartwarming to see the excitement for our friend as he shared his plans for the next leg of his journey.

REMIND ME TO STAMP THIS SAYING TO MY FOREHEAD!

After the Crew left, he and I talked about why we never reached out to one and other before now. Surprisingly enough, the reasons were eerily similar. 

Because he knows I can look him in the eye and verbalize what he means to me, to reciprocate, he wrote me a letter.

It was perfect. Big surprise, I CRIED!

His words were very kind & impeccably written. I'm truly flattered.

I've said this before and I’ll say it again. There’s no sure recipe for starting over. You simply make up your mind. You dig in your heels. And you DO it!

To the Crew today I verbalized that I don't have a single regret moving on and starting over. The biggest thing that warms my heart? Neither do any of my FANTASTIC FOUR! I guess the good news is we're going to be golfing together. Matter a fact, it will be in the off season and in Grand Caymen.

Because THIS story is sooooo not over yet!