Hubby and I are at that delicate age when people start asking you about babies. When are you going to have them? Is it soon? And I want to say yes. I want to say I can't wait. But I'm scared of this world I might be bringing them into. There are tragedies everyday. Big tragic awful things. People hurting people on purpose, for profit, against all laws both natural and criminal. That's nuts. And it breaks my heart. But seriously, as Marvin Gaye said: What's going on?
After voicing these concerns people respond that one little baby could be the person who changes things. The one voice who finally gets through to the rest of the world. This tiny unmade baby might be the answer to all these big and tragic problems...To that I say, anybody could be that baby. To my Momma and Papa I am that baby. But I'm having a tough time changing this big messy world we've become. I don't like this world I live in. I don't like the fact that people hurt children, I don't like the fact that I can't help every child be safe. There is so much that needs to change. Though no matter how much I change, it's still not enough. Why can't I just help everyone, and fix everyone, and hold everyone, so that we all feel better? I mean I don't litter, I recycle, I pick up my dog's poop, I do the little things while fighting the good fight. I try to make everything brighter.
The trouble here? Is that nothing I do makes those big differences. How do put in my order for those? Can we start soon? It would be better for all of us, trust me. And deep down, and in some of us really deep down we all know what's right. When will the little guy be the winner? And I don't mean, poor me, I'm not a winner. I'm not being a Sad sack. I work hard to win the races I run. But why doesn't the big guy share? I mean how much can one person really absorb in their lives. Corner offices, fifteen minutes of fame, square footage, ocean frontage, reality television, a regalia of yachts, making a million dollars a minute. When is more enough? And at what point does more just equal more. If I had that much money; you would have to call me Brewster, cuz the money would go out so fast. But even now, being a middle class canadian artist couple, I wouldn't mind giving up a little piece of my world if that meant that others are going to be safe and healthy.
The sad part is that all of these Super intentions come at a difficult time. A time that may be the worst in history and we all hope things will never surpass this monument, but as long as there is darkness in the world, and parties fighting for evil. Our world will never get ugly enough for them. As for where we are now, there is always someone hurting in this big wide world. It may not be me getting hurt, but that doesn't mean I am unaffected. If I can't change it when I am grown up, how can I ever expect one tiny baby to change it. Or Oh wait, I am supposed to wait until my baby is my age now, and by then because of how I raised them they will be able to make a difference? That isn't a likely outcome. If things are this bad now, in 30+ years where will we be? Things should be fixed before he gets here, so life can be what it's supposed to be for everyone. A world I would be happy to bring a baby into. Kind and bright, safe and sound. If I don't feel safe myself, why would I want to give this mad world to anyone. The rule is- don't do to someone else what you don't want done to you- or something like that. And I don't want this to be a world where they could be shot at school, or the movies, or the mall. How could I do that to them?
The Starving Artist will appear tomorrow.
A little bit of bad luck goes a long way. Cell phones are a modern appendage. They are the gateway to the universe, the twitterverse, the blogsphere, and intergalactic entertainment time travel. And these tiny little upwards-of-expensive devices live by 2 rules. I mean, they aren't even as complicated as Gremlins. The rules are simple- Do not drop it, and do not drop it in water. As you well know I am not one to follow rules. So, I dropped it- in the toilet. And not just any toilet, a public toilet, at a wing joint. Argh, sigh, job well done, truly a stellar moment in my technological history. Take that rules!
The moment it happened without a thought I thrust my hand into the bowl to retrieve it. Popular opinion is split, those who reach in and retrieve and those who cut their losses. I am a retriever. It was a clean bowl, and that phone is my link to the outside world. It would also cost way too much to replace. And I am not due for a hardware upgrade until the 36th of Septnever. Holding that drippy white digital box, my brow forcefully furrowed, squealing "Oh my Rod, I dropped my phone in the toilet, I can't believe I dropped my phone in the toilet! What do I do? What can I do? Help!" Swaddling my wee wet white technological sponge in paper towels and caressing the now black screen. Rushing my patient upstairs, searching for an urban legend rice repair, awaiting lackadaisical first responders. The only option for providing such grainy apple care was to hit the road, trudging to far off destinations. Finally sliding my swaddled baby into a ziploc full of hope. Needless to say it was a quick end to an otherwise pleasant night. I have been worried ever since. What should I do? How long should I wait? Is an iPhone comfortable in rice because it was made in China? How many hours, days, weeks before this tiny apple would be unsaucy and ready for fun? Would our relationship ever be the same?
I fretted and fidgeted about this little device all day. BFF says perhaps it's a sign. That being unplugged from online reality, might be a good thing. Thrust back to pen and paper. Writing my blog in my mind and on the back of my hand. Like a teenage girl in the early '90s. Counting on my watch to actually tell the time. Brass tacks baby, back to basics. But I don't want to be the stupid girl who forgot her phone was in her back pocket. And even though everyone knows someone who's done this, now I'm that girl. And she sucks. If everything comes out alright and my teeny apple dumpling flickers back to miLife I am going to buy one of those $80 waterproof unbreakable protectors I've been making fun of at Future's Best. The money is worth the peace of mind. Then I can continue on not following rules, and dropping that delicate little appendage any dang place I want to. Also I pledge never to take any hardware to the loo again, maybe I'll buy a couple of Betty and Veronica comics to keep myself occupied early '90's style.
After long consideration on whether or not I would blog today. I gave into my own sense of responsibility. So, it's short but not so sweet. The way that language evolves sick can mean different things. For example sick can be a good thing. As in: that tattoo is sick. But for today we will be using the word in the traditional sense. I am sick. I have spent the last day rolling around, wrapped in blankets. Sweating and shivering. Getting up only to go to the loo, for a plethora of reasons...I will leave to your imagination.
In recent history I have called into work sick, when I was actually hungover. I have ducked out of events early claiming illness. But the worst I have had is a bothersome nagging cough and cold drippy nose. Oh how things change. This is the first year I didn't get the flu shot. I thought with my track record of having been flu free for 7 years, I would be safe. Never thinking the reason for my health was the one thing I didn't do. If I were a bit stronger I would kick myself.
In The Devil Wears Prada, the extremely thin receptionist says: ' I am just one stomach flu away from being my ideal weight.'. I on the other hand would rather exercise and eat veggies- to achieve that goal. The flu fast is not my wheelhouse. Neither is fasting in general. The gurgle of emptiness paired with the shriek of burning acid. Of all things pain related I suffer most with stomach pain. I can muddle through a headache. The bruises I get constantly are tolerable. It's the sick and dizzies that I can't stand. So, if you can hear my Pepto fairy- bring me some relief. Please don't make me Gravol.
I have done it. I have measured. From where I sit it doesn't look good. I knew things had gotten off track but I didn't realize that they had gotten so far off track, careening down a steep rocky slope, spontaneously combusting, only to come to rest at the bottom, upside down; a swollen smoldering wreck. That sounds dramatic but that's how I felt upon completing my measurements. I then promptly had a panic attack.
I knew things were rough, the tell tale sign? Doing surface repairs; expecting to feel better about myself. Hair cut. Which was much needed and welcomes a chic blossom of blonde bangs. New boots. That make me feel like dancing and kicking sass, in equal parts. Schmancy new jeans- and herein lies the rub-they are a size bigger than I have ever been. Hello McFly! I've been eating meat and cakes and pies. Deep fried anything and butter soaked regret. And trying to convince myself that it's okay. For the last 9 months I have been bragging about my blog stick-to-it've-ness and how determined I am. Well, turns out writing a daily blog is easier than rearranging my diet or exercising. But enough is enough, the way things have been isn't working, quite obviously. I've promised to make things better. Why aren't I actually doing it? I think the thought of climbing this mountain is scary. So scary I've been grinding my teeth. Since the idea of this whole self-improvement thing started I have been putting off the numbers. Sizes, measurements and inches chasing me around-stressing me out. I've been losing sleep over it. The desperate need to pull myself up by the boot straps and pull myself together. But really who do you know that's really pulled together? We're all effed, at least a little bit. But I would rather be effed in the head, than effed in a pair of giant jeans.
What a strange way to feel- recognizing things need to change and knowing I am the only one who can do it. The very scariest part is that I might fail this experiment. Though it's not an experiment at all, it's an important part of my dream career path. Sadly, looking great is one of the crucial components. So, here we go- the hardest, scariest and most honest thing I have ever posted.
My numbers:
Height 68 inches or 5'8"
Weight 174.4lbs
Following measurements are in inches
Bust 40
Natural waist 33
Hips 44
Thighs sitting: r:25 l:25.75
Thigh standing r:24.5 l :25
Arm rest r: 13.5 l:13.5
Arm flex r:13.75 l:13.5
These are my starting measurements and I will keep you posted with changes periodically. My hope is to also find out my resting heart rate, BMI and endurance. I am hoping for a swift shift to being on track again. But first I have to put out a few smoldering fires.
I grew up surrounded by gossips. Not the mean spirited kind of gossip, more like the I know all your beeswax cuz we live in a small town kinda gossip. And I loved it. I love knowing who's in love. Who's newly single. Who's getting a promotion. I love it all. But upon hearing this from another gossip: "You know that man cheated on wife with a 23 year old; ruined his marriage. Let's go talk to him." I stopped to think about it. I don't support his decision to be that guy. In fact I am shocked that anyone would; except he was in a place of power. What she thought we'd extract from him I have no idea, so I decided not to join the conversation. Which brings me to- the classy gossip.
The classy gossip doesn't participate in gossip mongering. If you have a difficult situation you want to share I will be a sympathetic ear. And then keep my mouth shut about it. If you are having a tough month in your relationship I am happy to help any way I can or offer no help if that's what you need. But I think I am done with the people who disregard the feelings of others in pursuit of selfish glory. I can no longer tolerate the brutal spilling of someone else's beans... In CSI speak- it's hearsay. Hearsay is a third party retelling of something they have no business to share. I think we're better than that. At least I hope to be better than that.
Privacy seems a concept that has been long forgotten. With public FB profiles and Instagram we are able to see what SMiley Circus wore to the grocery store. I can honestly say I'm not interested. Pookie had a baby with a teenage father? Who gives a rat's sass? It's strange to think we've gotten to the point where the lives of strangers are more important than our own. May I suggest you spend that energy learning to quilt- those ladies know the very best gossip. So, let's agree. Privacy is important unless you are the one gossiping about yourself. In this industry I might even consider it self promotion. As for happy gossip it's just fine by me- but let's keep it on the sunny side of the street.
While at film sleep away camp I was put up with a roommate. She's sweet and funny. She's also a fan of this blog, a bonus. And I could tell right off we were gonna be pen pals for a long time. I was even thinking about wearing my friendship bracelet for the whole month of September, just to prove to my other friends how wicked my film camp friend is- but she lives in another town, so you don't know her.
Our 'cabin' however was not so sweet. It was soggy and furry and smelled of hot sweaty feet wearing thick socks in shoes that recently got wet and now they just smell that yucky shoes smell...you know the one. It was just like ruffing it. But felt more like a punishment. Fearing our sensory's saftey we fled to find comforts in the 'camp cantina'- a Moose of a place with everything on the menu but marshmallows. The first evening was eventful and endearing. Building new friendships and inside jokes that my friends at home wouldn't get cuz they just had to be there. These grown up campers singing songs and telling scary stories around the glow of the patio. As taps began to play we were all sent off for lights out.
Before we'd even gotten into our jinkies, my bunk mate remarked on how regimented I was. Which surprised me because I always considered myself more of a Walter Matthau than a Jack Lemmon. But then I really thought about it... I am a lemon. With my outfit laid out for the next day. And all the nerdy facts I know, the way all my clothes go together and all my quirks, I guess she's right. Every night my skin- gets washed and buffed, polished and moisturized. My clothes get organized, worn and put back into the suitcase folded, taking special care not to let them touch any surface in the hotel. My 3 pairs of all weather shoes lined up side by side in the closet by the door, awaiting every change in weather even though camp is only two sleeps. These patterns are what keep my film camp fire life burning. Though if I were honest I would admit it was my Momma's early onset OCD. Yeah! One Camper's Delight!
Today is the first day in the rest of your life. While riding the stinky Dufferin bus I noticed a sign: Don't look back, you're not going that way. Which applies to life but also driving..? Wait, no, not driving. You should definitely look back while driving-actually I think that's why cars have rearview mirrors. Anyway, I am looking ahead in life. Today is the day. Today is a day for doing, for hanging in there baby, for reaching for the stars. The problem most of us face is motivation, no wait, prioritizing... No, the problem is overstimulation or is it laziness? Maybe it's indecision, but I never can quite put my finger on it.
All my life I have been inspired by stories of Princesses who fall asleep and wake to a life in a castle with a Prince. Well, that's all grand and great for them, but they were born Princesses. I'd always dreamed of touring the world- well at least North America- performing *insert talent here for overcapacity stadiums. Now, you may have noticed I didn't insert a talent...that's cuz the dream only got as far as riding the tour bus and greeting the screaming hoards with autographs and oversized sunglasses. My talents vary though it's tough to pin them down. I longed for the prestige of being a Fortune 500 -30 under 30: Having invented an easy way to finally achieve perfect unfluffable hair or flawless makeup that prevents you from sweating, really anything that would make life easier. Perhaps a Robo-Tony to keep my life in order, ya know, something big. I have big dreams and found myself trapped in the cycle of talk about-do nothing-move on-begin to talk of my new dream. That's the dream pitfall; sometimes you get trapped in a place that looks like your house with a woman who doesn't looks like you but somehow you know it is:)
So, wake up sleepy Jean! Today is the day to start. Today is to be seized. Since starting this diatribe in February I have realized how hard it is to actually do it. But now we're past the point of no return. I can't just stop- give up- go back to dreaming. Though now my dreams are bigger. Which after realizing how much hard work they take, makes no sense, but they are. The great thing about seizing the day- it becomes yours. Do with it what you will. Talk is fine. Dreams even better. But DOING is the most integral part of getting closer to your dreams. For too long I have been a Grasshopper- waiting for the world to give. It is time to be an Ant. The best thing about Ants is they know how to work together to achieve their goals. And it turns out I have big dreams. So, work with me people:) or just work it!
Okay, so a recent informal poll I conducted suggests that if there is something wrong with you, you'd like to know. I don't mean if something is wrong with you- in my opinion specifically. I mean- if you have food in your teeth, waving it's spinachy green fingers at me, you'd like to know. Things that are wrong include but are not limited to: ear, cheek and nose hair, downed flys, boogers, flipped clothing tags and other embarrassing but easily repaired esthetic flaws. So, now that we all agree we'd rather know; why do I still worry how you're gonna take it?
Well Doctor, you see that's because nobody likes to think that they have been walking around like an a*hole with their barn door wide open. I might as well take all the confidence you had at that moment, tie it to the biggest anchor I can find and throw it overboard while shouting: 'That'll teach ya for getting too big for your britches. ' cackling all the way back to shore. Pointing out flaws is a terrible feeling for all involved. The victim's "Oh no, I ate 2 hours ago and I've had a hydroponic sesame garden growing in my mouth since" feeling and the messenger's "I wish I didn't have to do this, they'll wish I'd done it sooner." feeling. It stands to reason, you're better to hear it from me, than to head to the bathroom and spot it yourself half a day later. Though reason is seldom applied to vanity.
The strangest thing about this awkward social situation is even if I am part of a much larger group; the responsibility falls to me. I can be at work as the problematic Bat in the Batcave twists in the wind- while the cave dweller tells an emphatic story- everyone sees it. EVERYONE! But nobody says anything... So I wait until the story ends. Either insert a laugh or sympathetic head shake whichever seems appropriate; because I wasn't listening- I was starring at their nose. At the next private oppurtunity I pull them aside and pretend that I just noticed the offense. "You've got a little" *insert the universal signal for get that thing outta there! Don't kill the messenger is an adage quickly brought to mind. Yesterday I found myself in this type of situation; I made the furrowed brow "what is that?" face at my co-worker, with a pinching gesture at the rogue earhair that's been driving me nuts for 30 days. He didn't get it & all I could think was; how universal is this gesture if he doesn't know it...Then I thought maybe it was a familial shorthand, an obsession 4 generations in the mating. Needless to say I gave up on that hair, but only after multiple failed attempts. Hubby says if it doesn't bother them it shouldn't bother me. HA!
Alternatively, I want people to tell me when something has gone horribly array. If I were to arrive at my Momma or BFF's with my fly down, burrs stuck to my shirt and in my hair, dark flapping booger hanging from my nose, white bread mush glued between my teeth and giant eye gunk- they would laugh first; ask me how my night was; then get to work at reno-ing this fixer-upper. As for most other people? I am pretty sure they would let you walk around in that state, assuming it was either a purposeful decision to be a disaster or I was too far gone already to be helped by a Kleenex and some floss. Either way I will keep worrying about you and your fixable flaws and worrying about how you're gonna react, so there's that:)
This past little while I have been inundated with kids. Most of whom are babies, and as offensive as they can get; they are forgiven for all their misbehaving cuz 'they're just a baby'. But Roddamn it I met an unforgivably rude and crude kid who drove me up the wall! I consider myself a semi-patient person. But my semi-long fuse was lit by this cousin of my cousin's cousin. Causing me to snap and display a bit of my crazy... Well too much crazy for grownup dignity's sake.
Problem the first: this child was parentless on our vacation weekend. That's not to say that she's an orphan or unsupervised. But there are different levels of tolerance from one adult to the next. Parents typically prefer to be more stringent than a casual sitter. So this child (I keep calling her child-she's probably 13) ran rampant all weekend. Screaming, interrupting, name calling, just raising general hell, you know how kids get when there's a supply teacher- ya, like that. And I say boo-urns! That's no way for a young Lady to behave.
Problem the second: I was on vacation and wanted to be quiet. I wanted to have a few laughs. Play a few lawn games. Have a few drinks and spend some time floating down stream. It's my vacation! I just wanted things my way. I wanted to be around people I love. Not have a strange kid vying for my attention by being loud and selfish and judgmental. Clawing at me while I'm swimming. Yelling at me while I'm focused on a game target. Clambering for my attention as well as everyone else's. Humiliating some to impress others- throwing my cousin under the bus more than once. I realize she's on vacation too, but she gets 2 months- I had 3 days- I mean c'mon!
Problem the third: she's a bossy kid. With a theory that the loudest person has the right opinion. There is no room for conversation and I can't stand being 'corrected' by a 13 year old girl who truly believes she knows everything. Which is not true, because she clearly doesn't know how to make friends and influence people, which was a book I read at 13. She is not the boss of me. And I didn't like it.
She pushed my buttons, then she stuck gum in the button box, then she lit that poor button box on fire. So when I finally did loose my temper; telling her to be nicer and that she should worry about her own beeswax for one dang minute, I was the bad guy. Aww man, I hate that. I don't want to get in trouble for saying what everyone else is thinking. Though with 20/20 hindsight I guess there was a reason nobody was saying anything. Apparently it's wrong to chastise your cousin's cousin's cousin, who's not related to you even though the kid is ruining everything*insert grumpy pout. I am not a mean person; It's just hard ignore the antics of someone else's badly behaved kid. That being said there's probably a reason her parents weren't there: Everyone deserves a vacation. I just don't want Miss Bossy MacLoud-Mouth-No-Relation trying to ruin mine. It would've somehow been an easier pill if she was my cousin- at least I would understand those genetics;) But the worst part about this whole thing...I think I was just like her.
While riding up north in the backseat of yet another rammed car, I was beaned by a flying chess set in a metal box. While recovering from the shock; I started this list. And it must've been some bonk to the noggin. Cuz here's all the mental floss. So what I thought about this long weekend.
1. It's called a long weekend because that's how it feels- long.
2. That cottages are far from the city andr by the time you get there you've missed half a day.
3. Jilly is allergic to Puppy cupcakes. They transform her into a poltergeist shooting from both ends.
4. Air mattresses have a central vortex that acts like a black hole.
5. I forget how to write a blog.
6. Almost everyone on my side of the family writes.
7. A year is a long time to feel sorry about not saying you're sorry.
8. Going 8 games undefeated inflates an ego, priming it for popping. Even while playing lawn games.
9. Drunk people don't make much sense, if you're sober.
10. Bro finds immeasurable pleasure in saying the Eff-word in front of my religious relatives.
11. Turning 80 means never having to say thank you.
12. Jilly and her cousin Reese get along and share toys quite well. Except the teeny tennis balls that Jilly cracks like a walnut- splitting yellow fuzz and plastic everywhere.
13. Gin and club soda with lime is a great and classically thirst quenching beverage. Especially in a giant Coleman thermos.
14. When someone owes you $100 they make sure you give them the $5 they just lent you.
15. People pay attention to couples using their silent language.
16. Banana boat sunscreen smells like summertime.
17. I clean to show people I love them.
18. Jilly likes ice cubes and cauliflower.
19. You can lead a man to the shower but you can't be sure he'll come out clean.
20. Bluegrass is the best driving music, but Graceland is a very close second.
21. People like repeating stories. Especially if they got a laugh the first time.
22. Pontoon boats were invented for long weekends and dancing to Bryan Adams.
23. A weekend without a watch on is required every so often.
24. Bathing suits aren't designed to last for 6 years.
25. Packing light means leaving stuff behind. Even though you might need them later.
26. Even when BFF isn't there I feel the influence she's had on my life enjoyment level.
27. I need to Shining myself in a northern cottage for 2 months and write.
28. Swimming in a lake and making a joke about snapping turtles causes them to suddenly appear. Sending a gaggle of girls screaming and an Uncle yelling at us to be quiet.
29. Stargazing apps are wicked sticks.
30. A hot July is way better than a wet one. Mosquitos like to bite my bum.
31. I really like my new sister in law.
32. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day if your coffee has Bailey's.
33. A pavilion is a fancy way of saying concrete floor with roof.
34. Coolers should be see-through for efficiency sake.
35. If there's anything lovelier than queen Anne's lace I haven't found it.
36. Diving into a lake is nature's netti pot.
37. Traffic is terrible when you're between radio stations.
38. Bacon and eggers from A&W are worth every penny.
39. When a stat falls on a Sunday everything is closed and they take Monday too.
40. People want to show off their garden, even if their thumb is more brown than green.
41. Sunscreen makes clean hair look greasy.
42. Soy beans are a very popular crop for Ontario farmers this year.
43. If you're in a town with an asylum, expect to see crazy people.
44. Girls ask questions about boobs and laugh at farts.
45. One big zit provides fodder for a whole weekend worth of jokes.
46. KFC is the perfect picnic saver. Mayonnaise is essential for every summer salad.
47. 80 year olds love playing the piano without their hearing aids.
48. Orange hibiscus are beautiful in the overheated Camp grounds.
49. Most conversations with an 80 year start with; did you hear about -blank- they died.
50. A country Mommy will not tolerate 60 in an 80
51. Sometimes your journey takes you back to where you've started, and gives you a chance to start again.
52. You can make ice cubes out of anything- including oil, broth and milk
53. A dog tumor feels weird to accidentally run your hand over it.
54. Actors don't get vacation pay.
55. The winter wheat is ready for harvest.
56. You'll always get complimented on your old 'I only wear them at the cottage shoes'. My calluses get worse the more I wear these shoes.
57. Wearing dress with a strange neckline generates a strange tan line.
58. Puppa will strangle herself to escape the danger of fireworks.59. Being jammed into a full car is more fun than being alone in an empty one.
60. There is no place as comfy as your own bed. Except a five star hotel.
As always it is nice to be back, and starting up my routine of going to be at 10pm again. It's always amazing how I need a vacation after my vacation. I think I might be trying to pack in too much fun, but who complains about having too much fun? Oh wait. that's me:)
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