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? 

FORTY FOUR

Well, it’s December 28th and I only managed to post here forty four times this year. Sadly, twenty six of those ditties were pretty much a cheat effort by yours truly to complete my annual April A-Z Blogging Challenge.

You’d think after all these years I might finally evolve past writing about my neurotic quirkiness, but the truth of the matter is I just renewed my web domains for another couple of years, so that’s a definite NO! 

I do love this creative process, but suppose the bigger share is that 2019 wasn’t a banner year for me. Spare time and whimsy wasn’t something I had a plethora of, which I suspect is all a part of the aging process happening around me.

What 44 actually looked like!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 2009

Who am I kidding, I’m not getting older. I’m simply entering a classic era. That said, I will admit I was  a tad surprised last month, when the 'were not getting any younger' age card got played to me at work. 

I realize the time ticking away is a constant reminder that I’m getting older. But the other side of that truth telling tarot card is that I don’t look, nor feel old. 

For years I’ve joked about ‘Freedom 55’ but have never really given it much thought to what that might look like; guess it’s time to start.

Let’s face it, I don’t think I’ll ever retire. Just like I’ll never sell my house or cottage property with lots of stairs, simply because I’ll always want something to work toward.

I know I’ll always be active and outgoing unless I do in fact fall and break a hip – in which case, I know I'll be grateful for the digital revenue entity I’d built. Allowing me to comfortably lay in bed and heal, whilst continuing to finance my obsession with travel .

I’m not joking. The consummate planner and goal oriented entrepreneur I am, will always have me working toward something new on my horizon. It’s like I can’t help seeking out a challenge and reaping my well planned rewards.

As I begin to search for photos for my year in review post for the eve of a new year,  I find my mind reflecting with wonder what 2020 will offer. The one thing I know to be true?

No risk. No reward. With a solid caveat that I hope to lose at least 20 pounds!

Thanks again for reading.

MY MARTIAN!

My martian and I at the top of El Faro with the Port of Mazatlan in the background.

TAKEN: NOVEMBER 30th, 2019

Apparently, what happens in Mazatlan, doesn’t stay in Mazatlan. It returns to Canada as a gastro-intestinal bug that lingers and gurgles for the better part of two weeks!

Aside from that, I managed to make it home unscathed. Thankfully the weather cleared and a half decent suntan was achieved.  A couple of books were read and our flight home was both comfortable and uneventful; just like the rest of the week away.

I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for that to read ungrateful. I’m very grateful. But this destination was different than any other we’ve ever visited. This trip’s the very first time that I felt uneasy in my resort surroundings. So much so that I didn’t like to walk anywhere alone; and I am VERY independent.

For example, even though it was one of the nicest beaches we’ve stayed on, and I absolutely loved swimming in the Pacific, we returned to our room immediately after dinner in the evening and only ventured off resort once.

Where we took the Colectivo (public transit) in Mayan Riviera, we decided to hire a Pulmonia driver to tour with us for the day when we ventured into the city. The little more than one hundred dollars Canadian was money very well spent.

The driver was a result of us being warned, after we arrived, that the people in this area of Mexico have a preconceived notion that all Canadians are extremely wealthy; and therefore you are always a possible target. 

You can imagine in a resort as large as where we stayed (almost 800 rooms) and only a handful of occupants being Canadian, just how small a presence we had. It was intimidating and frankly quite scary.

Anyway, home and settled with yet another passport stamp, I have to admit that the core of the city that caters to tourism was absolutely stunning. I have scads of amazing photos that I will be able to reminisce over for years to come.

That said, once we were home and settled, my husband began searching the cost of month long rentals on the beach where we stayed. Which made me stop and wonder.

What did he misunderstand about my verbalizing my fears and witnessing how sick I got? And how will we manage to stay married spending our early retirement winter months apart?

Once again unequivocally proving that my man is definitely from Mars.

Because this here cat?

Ain’t NEVER goin' back! 

MAZATLAN MAYHEM

"Go to Mazatlan" they said. "You'll love it there!"

As most of you know, as common sense travelers, Mexico has always been a destination that we've been very comfortable with. The people and their culture's amazing and I love the fact that the Canadian dollar works in our favour; cutting Donald Trump out of said travel equation.

Because we travel as much as we do, we've always tried to alternate the choice of where we travel equally. The funny thing about Mazatlan is, it's been my husbands pick for a little over three years. The reason for our delay's that I always managed to convince him it really wasn't where he wanted to travel!

This time around, flight times, pricing, and every other item I could always combat against couldn't compare, leaving no practical reason not to officially get this particular stamp in my passport.`

What a difference 24 hours makes!

TAKEN: NOVEMBER 27th & 28th, 2019

That said, this adventure had me apprehensive from the start. Even boarding our flight in Toronto this past Tuesday morn, I disclosed that I had a bad feeling. Not one of doom and gloom per se, more something restless that I couldn't put my finger on.

First up was my worst travel day to date, topped off with the most serious level of culture shock I have ever experienced. The 40 minute trip from the airport was nothing like the videos I'd been watching on YouTube, and I instantly felt sick.

Check-in went smoothly, as a Riu never disappoints. But what I immediately discovered they can't control are the mariachi bands playing loud and off key just outside the resort barrier on the beach. 

Starting upon our arrival, two of them played for almost 6 hours straight well into the dark. The good news was once they stopped, the sound of the ocean waves as we fell asleep made the anxiety of the day disappear.

The next morning, excited it was surely a 'welcome to Mazatlan' thing, we met Canadians that disclosed they'd been here for two weeks and it happens like that every single night; with as many as four bands playing in a twenty foot area. Glass half full? We knew the bands wouldn't be playing Thursday because it was going to rain. 

Then, midnight Wednesday arrived. Rolling thunder and lightning in the distance. By 3am Thursday the rain got heavier and by 5am it was driving coming into the room. Figuring it would pass, I made a video and posted it to Instagram. Landing in the lobby for breakfast painted a more serious picture.

The majority of those staying here are of Mexican decent and the locals were panicked. The lobby was packed with hundreds trying to leave and when we arrived for breakfast most of the food had been eaten. 

We ventured into the rain a few time throughout the day until we were soaked through to the bone, only to notice it apparent the staff was working hard to keep everyone safe; and they truly did a fantastic job.

With the water receeding as I type and Mother Nature settleing into her jammies, I definately experienced some serious mayhem in Mazatlan today. So, as my husband's adamant we continue to discover more and more Mexican & South American coastal cities, I know a couple of thing to be true.

Next time I need to pack a few extra pairs of big girl panties... Not to mention a kick ass rain slicker!

PS: The Weather Network says only sunshine for the rest of our stay.
PSS: How's that for your a glass half full gal JC?

PSSS: MIC DROP!

I’M AN IDIOT!

In my everyday life, I feel I have an abundance of amazing acquaintances, and a rather small group of very tightly knit confidantes. Two of the latter are former colleagues that I worked with for a decade, which began close to thirty years ago.

All these years later, I swear we will be racing our wheelchairs down the hallway of the only nursing home that will admit us as a trouble making trio in our twilight years. One I speak to every day, the other I speak to sporadically but when we do connect it’s always as if time’s stood still. I unconditionally trust them both.

Today, on my regular carpool call to Smartie, I disclosed I’d accidentally stood up our mutual friend (that I haven't seen face to face in a couple of years) for lunch. He assured me that he’d understand, yet I still felt like a big bag of poo. In an effort to cheer me up, he decided to reminisce about the time they’d participated in management sensitivity training together.

The task at hand was to turn to their partner and pay them a compliment. Smartie recalled the other had a female coworker (and close friend) that he was to compliment, to which he turned and with a straight face nodded declaring, “nice tits!”

My car instantly filled with laughter and I could see the look on everyone’s face as this infamous character once again brought down the house with his timing and general off colour wit. 

"Man, I’m mad at myself for missing lunch," I whined. 

Then Smartie reminded me that a true friend overlooks your failures. So, because today was an epic fail, when I got home I took an end of the day selfie simply to remind him what I look like.

That said, being apart doesn’t change the fact that we've recognize that for years we'd always keep in touch. I suspect that and our keen senses of humour and love of sarcasm are why our roots will always run so deep.

....And that I know I'm a fecking idiot for standing him up!

Snapped an end of day selfie so the lunch date (that I haven't seen in two years)
could remember what his idiot friend named Rhondi looks like!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 14th, 2019

WINTER SUCKS!

My photos were taken exact 163 hours apart.
I really do dread this time of year!
TAKEN OCTOBER 27th & NOVEMBER 1st, 2019

I don't know about you, but fall for me is like an amazing twelve week shopping spree that eventually ends with an epic case of buyer’s remorse. 

It's as if Labour Day is the milestone signaling me to head the shopping mall. Thanksgiving brings the expensive and very euphoric sexy shoe purchase, and by Halloween the fun becomes strained.

Ultimately, by the time we turn the clocks back, the Visa bill with interest arrives; and that final buzz kill leaves me grumpy for the six long months of winter that follow.

As you know, the time change is a big deal for me. So many things I dread just naturally happen. Every. Single. Year.

Almost immediately after we 'fall back', I leave for work in the dark and arrive home under the same circumstance. The swashbuckling pirates that produce my bogus hydro bill begin to circle like vultures, and it takes every fiber of self-restraint to not put gravy on absolutely everything I eat. As an emotional eater, at least I know the latter feeds into my 24-7 need for comfort, when I am simply always glum.

All my bitching aside, I understanding time is precious and I truly do hate to wish it away but 2019 has not been a remarkable year of magnificent for me. Rather, I feel I have been repeatedly tested.

The truth is, with 61 days left until the year ends, I sense I’m in high school again. Specifically in grade 12 Chemistry when my teacher gave me a passing grade. Not because I'd aced his class, just simply because I'd tried as hard as I could and never once gave up.

Reinforcing, yet again, that even if you didn't have a shit year nor suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder,  there are two things I know to be true.

That life is really hard, right up until the moment it isn't.

... and that WINTER SUCKS!

REALISTIC RHON2theDEE

I headed south yesterday for some much needed face time and a super-size jolt of retail therapy.

It’s not like I'd put a lot of thought into hatching my Friday plan, because let’s face it, I rarely set time aside for myself and actually follow through. I think it was because I got a random text message from a friend that works in the city that simply read: “You OK?”

At first I wondered if he'd had some insight to my last couple of weeks, but at the end of the day he admitted that he’d checked my blog and noticed I hadn’t posted in almost a month, hence why he was checking in.

Truth of the matter is, during that period, every time I sat down to write there was another item much more pressing on my list of things to do, in need my attention.

Even my coffee was SHOCKED how crazy my summer was!
TAKEN: AUGUST 24, 2019

You see, my husband had surgery the first week of August which was followed by an eight week recovery stint. It was his third procedure for the same ailment, so I knew what to expect as far as him getting back on his feet. Though he’s weathered another storm, yours truly is absolutely exhausted. 

Maintaining a home, cottage, and pack of pups all alone is not for the faint of heart.

Factor in that I’ve had my busiest year at work to date, and the lethargy thickens.

Top it all off with the fact that I am on a mission to lose weight, and I feel the need a power nap just typing the words. What’s a girl to do?

I looked at taking a trip. This time last year I was planning a trip to eat KFC at the pyramids with my girlfriend for her 50th birthday. But almost a year later she was unexpectedly pitched the fastest curve ball ever thrown, so understandably, we've been forced to circle to airport indefinitely.

So I shifted my focus to a Toronto Raptors road trip (Pelicans, Clippers, Lakers) but I know better than most that I am in need of light, not hype. Then, about a week ago I came close to booking a return engagement in Mexico, but talked myself out of it. That point is not moot and entirely another post, so let's move along.

As the seasons change and I prepare to dress in layers, both with my clothing and with as many blankets I can cover myself with as I curl up in a ball in the closet, I realize just how big a realist I truly am. I know what’s coming and I will deal with the hand I’m dealt as I pick up each and every card. 

To shed some light, I read somewhere that realist is someone that has gone through hell and been purified. A pessimist is someone that's taken a similar path and been burned. 

Though I have been burned many times, I feel my purification process has evolved from my ability to understand what’s happening at the time, and my ability to swiftly remove any/all contaminants from my presence.

Just so we're clear... By contaminants, I mean complete and total bullshit!

OK, so writing that made me laugh.

Mission accomplished.