O IS FOR OOOOPS

I don’t know about you, but I've a very challenging and volatile relationship with my aging metabolism. Trust me when I admit that I wasn't even remotely prepared for what midlife did to a woman’s body but will go on the record stating this: It friggin’ sucks!

Let's face it. I only know a very small handful of women my age that are happy with their shape and my theory is simple. Menopause blows, big time. 

I suppose I could spend the money on liposuction to rid the evidence that I gave birth to 3 children, instead I wear clothes that are generally flattering to my shape, while spending my savings on travelling as much as my work life allows. This year, with COVID19 in full force, not so much. 

You see, over the last 6 or seven months I’ve put on some ‘stress weight’ that I am having a tough time shaking. It’s not the type of stress I experienced a decade years ago, more the ‘there aren’t enough hours in a day’ stress; which ultimately opens the door for bad food choices, creating even more stress.

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

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

Thanks for listening ~ Rhondi

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

N IS FOR NEVER

Today's post is for someone very special in my life.

She knows who she is.

Hang in there beautiful. I am here for you no matter what!

M IS FOR MY MOM

My mother, whom lived from 1930-1987
TAKEN: JULY 1947

This is my Mom.

If you haven’t met her via a previous post, allow me to introduce you to my mother Inez.

She was 17 years old when this photo was taken and the only one I own that was taken before she was married.

Though I have very few pictures of her, that doesn't mean that all of my life long memories aren't vivid, colourful, and still very much alive.

She was a fighter.

She won most every battle she set her mind to, but sadly she eventually lost the war. She passed in 1987 of ALS (more commonly known to the masses as Lou Gehrig's Disease).

I love and miss her very much.

L IS FOR LOUISIANA

I have been lucky enough to have embraced New Orleans, Louisiana twice in the last few years. My first was a 2017 Bucket List Birthday Trip and the second was to celebrate my daughters born day in 2019. 

My first trip was to enjoy an annual festival there called French Quarter Fest and to visit friends I have that live there. After that trip, I knew I wanted to return because there were certain sites I’d missed seeing. Both times I stayed at an upscale boutique hotel call the Maison Dupuy, two blocks from Bourbon Street.

If I had to pick one word to describe the city it would be exciting. My second word would have to be being expensive. 

So blessed to be able afford such experiences!

Louisiana times two!
The right 2017 the right 2019
TAKEN: APRIL 2017 & MAY 2019

K IS FOR KNOWING

I've been diligently following what's been happening with COVID-19 since Monday January 20th, when overnight I got a fever so high and  phlegm so thick, that I cried when my husband went to leave me at 6am to go to work.

I begged him not to leave me alone, I couldn't breathe and I have never been so sick. I discovered later, my teacher for the course I was taking in Downtown Toronto, whom had a cough in class, had been to China over the Christmas break.

At the advice of a well versed office colleague (I infected) we delayed booking my April birthday travel, watching what was happening in China, we began keeping an inventory of our perishable food items. 

For whatever reason, in mid-March I was told to STOP creating havoc... but all I really wanted was for people to understand there's really next to no risk here in Muskoka, if we stay put. Example: If you're out and about, try to stay six or ten feet apart from your closest shopper. Wash your hands. Wear a mask.

Spend time together with your loved ones you live with and take yourselves back to grassroots socialization. Build a fire, roast marshmallows. Reconnect!!

At the end of the day, I'm positive I'll read what a waste of time all of this was. Those will be from the people that don't venture outside their Facebook page to research the global reality.

Our blessing is that Canada have never stopped investing in research since SARS. I have faith we are well ahead of the rest of the world when it comes to our safety. 

Please... Be kind. Be considerate. Be compassionate; for those that may be in need your help for many months to come.

This isn't going away tomorrow!

J IS FOR JAMMERS

My son Jukebox, singing in the finals of Muskoka Voice!
TAKEN: AUGUST 2018

My oldest son was born in the dead of winter in Muskoka; he slept in a bassinet beside my bed for the first month or so, then graduated into his very own crib. Once he moved into his nursery, I made a choice that there would always be a radio playing. Why? Because we didn’t want him to be one of those babies conditioned to total silence.

Always set to the local radio station, it was rarely turned off. He dozed off to the tunes, and woke up the same way. I truly feel that early choice we made for him, has embedded the musical passion he has today.

Genetically, Jammers has always been completely surrounded by musicality. It’s a very common thread that is everywhere (on all sides of our family).

He is completely self-taught, disciplined, and he has fully embraced music as a craft. He’s talented. He’s extremely talented. Name the instrument, he can play it!

Keep going Jukebox. We know you can accomplish whatever you put your voice and self driven talent behind!

I IS FOR IRRATIONAL

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

H IS FOR HANGRY

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

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!

F IS FOR FITNESS

Driving by Snap Fitness yesterday, I laughed aloud when I read their marquee: “If your dog is fat… You're not getting enough exercise!” 

Personally, I thought the message was brilliant.

I walk far more than the recommended 10,000 steps a day, and I am very outgoing in every other facet of my life. I watch what I eat, and I certainly don't feel nor act my age.

Keeping with that last thought, my personal fitness guru was telling me that eating chocolate releases the same endorphins as having an orgasm.  Intrigued by the statement, I decided to do some basic math. 

The average chocolate bar contains 884 calories.  Having sex, can burn up to 300 calories per half hour.

Dottie enjoying our Book Club offering!
TAKEN: JULY 2012

Hmmm, I say the perfect solution is to enjoy an amazing two hour romp, and avoid any type of chocolate offering all together. 

That gives me a big bonus 1200 calories burned, and a perma smile that will stay with me way longer than any silly Kit Kat bar can possibly offer!

Now that right there is some serious calorie counting I can throw my back into! Guess I need to whip my husband into shape.

Whip? Maybe, not.

Blindfold? Definitely, MAYBE!

E IS FOR EGO

Can anyone relate to this?
I most certainly can!

D IS FOR DECADES

I will start by apologizing to my subscribers. 

I've had two unexpected deaths in our family, which has left me a week behind in my April A-Z Blogging Challenge. So, you will receive an entire weeks' worth of posts today and tomorrow. 

Truth is, I considered quitting. Then I realized I didn't want to. I figured I would give it a good push in an effort to get back on schedule by Easter Monday April 13th.

The letter D was harder than I thought it would be, because I'd decided to post a various pictures of myself from each decade. Finding them was the challenge. I hope you enjoy them.

Thanks for your patience,

Rhondi

Pretty Curls
TAKEN: DECEMBER 1969

Lake Louise with my Mama
TAKEN: JULY 1976

High School Daze
TAKEN: MAY 1984

Tampa, Florida
TAKEN: APRIL 1989

Labour Day Monday at Santa's Village
TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 1996

The summer we lived at the cottage.
TAKEN: JULY 2002

Sweetie & Me ~ Westin Harbour Castle
TAKEN: MAY 2008

Top of El Arco - Mazatlan, Mexico
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 2019

C IS FOR CANADA

I will always be proud and free. With an amazing sense of humour!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 2016

If your local Dairy Queen is closed from September through May, you may live in Canada...

If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don't work there, you may live in Canada .. 

If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you may live in Canada . 

If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation With someone who dialed a wrong number, you may live in Canada . 

If 'Vacation' means going anywhere South of Detroit for the weekend, you may live in Canada . 

If you measure distance in hours, you may live in Canada . 

If you know several people who have hit a deer more than once, 

You may live in Canada . 

If you have switched from 'heat' to 'A/C' in the same day and back again, You may live in Canada . 

If you can drive 90 km/hr through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching, you may live in Canada . 

If you install security lights on your house and garage but leave both unlocked, you may live in Canada .

If you carry jumper cables in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you may live in Canada 

If you design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you may live in Canada . 

If the speed limit on the highway is 80 km -- you're going 95 and everybody is passing you, you may live in Canada . 

If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you may live in Canada . 

If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter, and road construction, you may live in Canada . 

If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car, you may live in Canada . 

If you find -2 degrees 'a little chilly', you may live in Canada . 

If you actually understand these jokes, you definitely are Canadian and proud to be.

B IS FOR BIRTHDAY

Happy Birthday to ME.
TAKEN: APRIL 1982

Well, it’s that time of year again. 

You know, when your special day rolls around on the calendar to remind you that you're one step closer to support hose, dentures, and really long afternoon naps!

I may be turning older this month, but this year the day will be considerably different than my last. I had a great birthday last year (probably one of the best ever) but my mindset wasn’t as good as it is this year. Like I always say, change is good.

As busy as I am, I know my day will come and go. I'm hopeful the odd person will wish me all the best, I’ll be grateful, I always am.

There will not be a cake. No gifts will be given. I’ll look in the mirror, thank God I am alive, and pray in the coming year I don’t fall and break a hip.

Anyway, because I've never really celebrated my birthday, there are very few pictures marking the specific day. The photo I am sharing was taken thirty something years ago next week. 

The cake and photo were courtesy of my favourite cousin Joanne, and the pic was snapped at their kitchen counter in North Bay. I remember that very day, it was a Saturday. I remember I was happy and it was a very happy time in my life. 

All of that said, the fact that it’s my birthday month means I get to do my math any way I choose...

This year, I'll be one very happy 29 year old!!

A IS FOR APRIL A-Z

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

A IS FOR APRIL A-Z: 

A crazy month, that will

Push me to

Rejuvenate Rhondi,

Inspire others and 

Laugh a lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

PET-HOUSE FORUM

There’s no easy way to admit that I feel like this post is going to start like 99% of all Penthouse Forum letters ever published; with a statement admitting, ‘I never thought anything like this could ever happen to me!’

As you know, when our nest emptied, the dogs pretty much inherited our focus.

They sleep with us, travel with us, and share every single meal I eat.

I actually talk to them as if they’re humans, and trust me, they listen better than the majority of the coworkers I’ve had in the last decade.

Anyway, no matter what the time of year, Saturday has always been their day. From the time we wake up, they get the majority of our words and effort, which I recently discovered isn’t a good thing.

This past weekend was a busy one. We helped family move on Saturday and we had the fundraiser for our buddy Duncan on Saturday night. The day started early and ended in the early hours of the following morning.

My point isn’t that I managed to stay up past my regular 10pm bedtime, more about what the consequences look like for skipping a Saturday doggie day.

Three guesses whom chewed my $100+ handbag! No names please. Annie!!
TAKEN: MARCH 8th, 2020

So I must say, I think the March 7th chewing fiasco was the result of one of the following items:

1. Annie is truly being a BFF in that the pattern of the purse was really quite hideous and she was saving me from any further fashion embarrassment.
2. The handbag just happened to fall into her "favourite flavour" category, kinda like any potato chip for me (which in future I will avoid purchasing her any Nine West offerings).
OR
3. People have been feeding her dog treats through the open window in the Wal-Mart parking lot on Saturdays, and she was simply jonesing, in need of a fix.
(ie: Purse handles... The NEW beef jerky for dogs!)

Either way, I must admit. 'I never thought anything like this could ever happen to me!’ 

#yagottalaughaboutit

A FRIEND IN NEED

Let's all pull together to help Duncan!
(Photo usage permissions given)

I’m not exactly sure why, but there’s something truly extraordinary about staying connected with childhood friends.

Part of me leans toward the fact that even though we may have grown apart socially or geographically, our formative years were spent discovering so many life lessons together, we generally work to remain linked.

That said, the other side of today’s very insightful coin is that there’s never a good way to deliver bad news. And last week, we received some heart wrenching news about our lifelong friend, Duncan MacDonald.

If you’ve never met Duncan, I’m sad to say you’ve been deprived of an amazing energy like no other. In the last thirty years, never once have I bumped into him that he didn’t call me by name, with a cheerful hello, and an ear to ear smile. He is extremely humble and personifies a positive person.

Well, this fine lad has had an unexpected set back. He woke about a week ago, in excruciating pain, unable to walk. Suffice it to say, he has been given a diagnosis that has a long road map to recovery attached. 

So, I am doing something I've never done since I began this silly electronic journal almost ten years ago. I’d like to ask for your help.

There is a fundraiser being held for him at the Bracebridge Legion (168 Muskoka Rd S) on Saturday March 7th at 7 pm. Tickets are $20.

Ideally I’d like to see you there, but feel free to buy a ticket to simply help, or message me directly if you'd like to make a personal or corporate donation.

If none of the above work for you, I'd like to ask you to do something equally as valuable - and share my post to help others know Duncan is in hospital.

Let’s face it. I don’t know what I’d do if this ever happened to me.

What I do know is, that Duncan MacDonald would immediately get in touch with my husband, to find out what HE could do to help.

...Because that's just that kinda guy he is!

MY GARAGE BAND-AID

I am a firm believer that if I haven’t used something I have stored within the last 12 months that it needs to be regifted, recycled, or properly disposed of. With a formal caveat - it CAN NOT belong to one of the kids!

I'm serious. The above claim is written in ink and not pencil and I am pleased to report that for the last four or five years, the double car garage at the homestead has been filled with extra furniture and appliances belonging to the aforementioned offspring.

If you love something set it free. If it comes back it's your. If it doesn't, it never was.
TAKEN: BUSKING 2018, CUBA 2017, LAKE SIMCOE 2016

Most of it landed in there as a result of them returning home for a brief stint, eventually moving in with a roommate, accumulating items that were classified as over flow. Over the recent holiday break, everything was pulled out, sorted through and dealt with accordingly.

The goal was simple. To dig out and once again set up my killer home office that I’d strategically packed in there a little over 5 years ago.

In digging for that treasure, I came across an old drum kit belonging to Jukebox. For some reason, I just stared at it before I began moving it. Truth is I stood completely frozen as the last decade simply flashed before my eyes; the good, the bad and the ugly.

Which leads me to my point. Nothing prepares you for an empty nest.

I’m sure it’s because there’s no regulated handbook for parenting. By the time they're ready to graduate high school, they typically think we totally suck and our speaking voice is worse than nails on the proverbial chalkboard.

To be brutally honest, I think I went through the “I’m your mother” motions far longer than ever needed. I clung on for dear life until I was eventually replaced by their personal voice and understanding, proving mine no longer mattered.

In everything I have experienced on my journey, I feel this was the toughest mom lesson I learned. The worst part is that I’m so thick, I needed to learn it three times. All individual, very painful life lessons.

Anyway, sitting here typing, my mind is flooded with thoughts of my life these past 30 years. Which is why I will be always be forever grateful for my double car garage. 

It’s like I can close my eyes and I can hear their young voices bellowing again.

I can hear that high school garage band practicing, the giggling girls definitely talking about boys, with the picnic table front and centre and the music blaring.

Yep, just like that… They’re all instantly home again!

Where does the time go?

QUIET QUESTMAS

Proof of a very quiet Questmas Eve!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 24th, 2019

Well, this morning I took down the holiday tree and shuffled all its complimentary accessories into storage beneath the stairs. The holidays were very quiet for me this year. I am pleased to report that my quest for rest and relaxation was definitely accomplished.

As things stand now, I’m not headed into the sun this winter. Instead, I am headed into downtown Toronto to participate in a six week digital technologies course, at a cutting edge learning hub. (I’ll head to the GTA after work every Friday and head home by dusk on Saturday.)

Since enrolling, I’ve been talking to a couple of my closest confidants about this opportunity and how excited I truly am.

I’ve been involved in digital marketing before most understood the reach and power online media offers. With my current digital footprint being what I would classify as decent, I can't express how excited I am to be gaining even more knowledge.

That said, participating in this course will do one of two things. Affirm my current success has been thanks to skills I have honed on my own. OR, reprogram my thought process to maximize my skill set that will ultimately take me to another level in my career; no matter which, it will be a win-win scenario for yours truly.

As I hit publish on my first post for 2020, I can’t believe that I am going to actually admit that I am looking forward to the rest of this winter.

I know, eh?!

Let's just hope Mother Nature doesn’t fly off her meds for my six week commute.

REMEMBERING 2019

Most Significant Moment: 

The unexpected and very tragic passing of my sister in law Pamela Peacock.

She passed October 28th, 2019 and was only 39 years old. 

Pictured here in the middle, may this beautiful face, forever rest in peace.

My year in the rear view!
TAKEN: Throughout 2019

January:  My renovation project 'Popcorn Ceiling Begone' got underway. It lasted three months and the next floor gets underway again in January 2020. 

February: Spent an amazing week walking the miles of beach in Cayo Coco, Cuba.

March: My Spotti Dotti and her best friend by the bonfire. (Her very favourite thing to do!)

April: My birthday trip to New York City. It was amazing having my son as my tour guide and seeing Billy Joel at Madison Square Garden.

May: Took a Mommy/Daughter weekend trip to New Orleans, Louisiana. Here she is on Bourbon Street!!

June: My beloved Toronto Raptors won the 2019 NBA title.

July: The very difficult decision was made to allow Dot to finally sleep easy and rest in peace.

August: Spent the majority of this month and next living with the pups at the cottage. The solitude was exactly what I needed.

September: Played hostess for our company's bi-annual team building fishing trip on the west end of Lake Nippissing.

October: Was sickened by the entire federal election campaign bullshit that took place.

November: During my week long vacation I hiked to the top to the El Faro Lighthouse in Mexico

December: A whirlwind month that finally slowed down on Christmas Eve. Marking, what will hopefully be, a couple of new traditions.

Bullet points aside, this past year had me dealing with serious illness, the loss of several cherished loved ones, as well as a fur baby. 

I think a combination of all of the events is why now, more than ever, I am going to try not to focus my energy on others that aren't going to enhance my personal life and my loved ones around me for the better. 

As I have written here before, I believe sometimes all people need is a hand to hold, an ear to listen, and a heart to understand them. I think that is going to be my motto for the next year and surround myself accordingly.

Welcome 2020. 

Let's make it one of the best ones yet!

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.

MY CANINE SUMMER SHIFT

Well, I woke up at 7am this morning, poured myself a hot cup of java, then packed the majority of my crap and moved back into town mid morning. 

It wasn’t my general intention when I went to bed last night, but I think I woke a tad panicked that I would come home to certain stresses at dawn tomorrow morning. 

The good news is I didn’t. I’d done all the laundry at the cottage Saturday & Sunday morning, and aside from the lawn needing to be mowed, all my other chores were done and the house clean.

I don’t know about you but I hate a mess. I hate unnecessary clutter, but most importantly, I hate if you walk into my home or cottage and you know I have dogs... Aside from the fact that they’ll drive you crazy with their incessant barking to announce the importance of your very formal arrival. 

Which brings me to my point. I haven’t written here about losing my beloved Spottie Dottie this summer. Truth is, it’s still too raw. What I will admit, is that I never realized how much work three dogs were, until I only had to tend to two.

My Dot never had an issue with the sound of a camera. RIP ole girl.
TAKEN: 2007-2019

The other thing that is hard to admit is how much dysfunction I enabled having an elder dog in long term palliative care.

Eight weeks after putting Dot out of her misery, the realization that she suffered far more than she needed to, and her mood swings (due to her cancer) took a serious toll on everyone, including both my other pups.

That said, I always knew that Puddin’ and Annie would thrive as a pack of two. If not for the likeness of their temperament, then for the unconditional acceptance of the life we have made for them. 

For the last couple of years, Dottie made Puddin’s life a living hell. Simply because she could.

I have spent the past couple of months focused on reprogramming her, yet she still feels the need to be in a constant state of submission because Dot needed to remain in charge until her death.

Anyway, about a month after we buried Dot, my boss cheerfully asked me, “when are you getting another dog?” My response was a quick and very pointed, “I’M NOT!”

The old adages of “once bitten twice shy or three’s a crowd,” immediately came to mind. Like other things in my past, I have no desire to EVER take that journey again. 

Instead, I will just bask in the memories I have of my three and be grateful my boss lets me dog sit his Golden Retriever, Charlie (lower left). Yup, our Charlie only has two angels to lead not three, 

After just spending his first weekend with us since Dottie parted, I'd say it suited him just fine!

A COTTAGE EXORCISM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ya Gotta Laugh About It!!