Growing thoughts in the garden of your mind. There's a feeling when an idea is just a tickle. Hiding untold secrets like pollen or maple keys. Ticking time lapse photography as the idea starts to germinate. Splitting open like the seeds of fortune. Sprouting stems and growing into the flowers of imagination. Before you know it, you're tending to row on row; heavy with the fruits of your labour.
Have you been thinking about something? Something important. Something that just won't uproot itself from your mind. Maybe you've lost something or you're formulating a complex theory about *insert science methodology here. Maybe it's a never ending to do list. If you're lucky it's a beautiful concept yet to be planted. But what if it's a weed? Strangling all your smaller thoughts and blocking out the sun? When you're working on a problem, it can be hard to hoe another row. But sometimes the only thing that ever really removes a stubborn stone is to stop thinking so much. Think about something else. That's the way brains work. Your mind is a delicately balanced eco-system. Sun, rain and love will help your thoughts to grow up strong and healthy.
I don't have a green thumb by any means, but I live for spring flowers and summer fruits. Every spring ideas burst forth in radiant colour. But beware. Winter is coming. Now is the time to plant your thought bulbs. Let them take root. Awaking as the winter earth thaws. Your idea will poke it's delicate green stem through the softening ground. Waiting patiently for that spring sunshine to warm the earth. For me spring is further away than I can stand. Perhaps I should invest in a greenhouse to cultivate my ideas all year round.
Remember that feeling? The sunshine, the fresh cut grass, your mother yelling at you to stop daydreaming and get your head in the game? For me it was soccer (or scoccer as I used to spell it) but for one special season; it was baseball. Baseball is a national pass-time. It's America's national passtime, but there are many little Canadian leagues. Baseball is 9 innings of 9 players trying to score, though not with their balls. Well, I guess with enough balls you can score, but it's not the gentlemanly thing to do. Baseball is about working together, sacrificing a bunt to move a player closer to home. It's about trying to get more than you had by stealing... It's about pennants and famous first pitches and national anthem screw-ups. It's about the love of the game.
Do you remember Toronto's back to back World Series wins in 1993-94-1995? The way all of Canada suddenly erupted in cheers, people filling the streets- without riot*insert raised eyebrow toward Vancouver. Celebrating together, as a city, as a province and as a country. The feeling you get as a little kid watching the adults around you bite their nails in anticipation of the much sought title and trophy with the golden pennants. Watching baseball into October, the leaves falling before we won the World Series. That was amazing, that's what baseball is all about. It's the Love of the game, the Tin Cup, the Natural, Bull Durham, it is A League of their Own.
This season Toronto fans have been treated to a winning worthy baseball team, and lucky us! With amazing outs and a high flying fun, it's coming together... Now, we've been down this slippery slope before, our early season enthusiasm overshadowing the fact that the spring training suntan is fading and the damp Toronto air steals the Jay's verve (which we're already starting to see*sigh). As far as I am concerned, win, lose or tie; I can't remember having a bad day at the Sky Dome. I just love the smell of the field from the 500 seats, starring up through the Dome at the CN Tower, the crunching peanut shells on the floor with a giant lemonade in one hand and a Ballpark frank in the other. As for you my early season Blue Jays, it's important to remember there is no I in team; but there is an I in win.
Alrighty, it's that time of the year again. The time when the government gives you, (or your spouse) a bit of money to say: Hey, thanks for giving us money all year and to divert us from what's about to happen. TAXES....taxes. As a "self-employed performer" who must collect her HST from each "employer" or "client" tax time for me can be stressful, should I stay or should I owe? And here's the kicker I don't understand taxes and receipt counting and totals and TFS accounts and RRSPs, GICs, UFOs etc. I don't get it. Why are there so many lines and factors? The cheat sheet shorthand guide is ten million pages thick, and you can file online but you have to print out all ten million pages too, and then keep it for 8 years? Oh, and if you're a canadian citizen, but you don't live here, you pay our taxes and you pay in your current country? Hello, help, I raise my hand meekly to ask a question. How does property tax work? Where is the beef? Is it possible for a person who doesn't work at a government or accounting office to understand these things? Why are they so complicated? Wouldn't it be better if everyone could understand? Unless, it's just me. In which case I say play through sir, and I tip my hat to you. Oh, and I don't understand those HRBlock commercials, but they're memorable, so I guess we can consider it mission: accomplished.
My loving Hubby is a shoe box man. Every receipt goes into a box, which stays somewhat chronological but that is the only things organized about them. I on the other hand, have been trying, for the last 8 years, not to do that. Though around Sept I usually forget and end up organizing 4 months the night before I drop them of with Alice the accountant. Alice is smart as a whip and a breeze to be around with a comforting rainforest slideshow screen saver. The perfect accountant. The last one was a slightly sticky looking bald man in a stale office that had a squeaky door and exposed ceilings that looked saggy and spongey. As for Hubby and I this year we will be filing as husband and wife for the very first time. I couldn't be happier for Tax Season:) Happy taxing!
So all day I have been struggling about what to write. I couldn't think in the shower, I couldn't think in the checking of my morning emails. I couldn't think. And then my pretty pregnant friend arrives, for an early morning visit, as she is at term and has to be on bed rest in the afternoon, which I think means she is close to having a baby. And we visited while I drank my Douche bag iced Starbucks coffee and she sipped on water, the only non-alcoholic beverage I have in this newly moved house. We talked about babies, and what to expect when you're expecting, which I was surprised at how little I knew to expect. Like pregnancy is actually 10 months, oh geez, I didn’t know how I was going to make it 9 months. And bedrest, which sounds great in theory, except you can’t leave your bed. And I still couldn’t think. All I could think about was how great a mother she was going to be, and how I wasn’t a mother yet, I was still a little girl. Then my other girl friend calls me, she's in my new hood and wanting to drop in, and being friends with my fav-baby-maker I invite her by. A quick catch up and another text from my sister-wife saying hello and enjoy the sunshine but not too much cause she’s working. Hugs and kisses and goodbyes, and I still couldn’t think. I mean enough for one day about the move, what else have you got to say. A walk out in the sunlight adding another girlfriend for lunch and patio deliciousness at a new local restaurant and I still couldn’t think. Smiling and hugging and sunshine and I am thinking about how I can’t think. I am thinking about how this girlfriend would be a great mother, and how she is motherly to me and my childish whims and how she knows I am thinking about how I can’t think. And my new friend knows I am thinking too hard about it, and that won’t help me either. And I still can’t think. We talk about ourselves and how we reflect in others and how we drive ourselves crazy and how others drive us crazy, and about how crazy isn’t so bad. We hug and pose and laugh, and I think. And I finally realize I am thinking about you, and her, and me, and she, and my grandma who could sit and solve a crosswords for hours with a dog-eared crosswords dictionary next to her. I am talking about my mother wanting to have a big family, but getting 2 kids with really big personalities instead. I think about my grandmother sitting in her chair and knitting a little tiny nothing into an afghan that was made to wrap you like a hug, making you feel better. The sun is tanning my cheeks that are already sore from laughter and I am thinking about how I couldn’t think, only to realize this is the thinking I was doing all along. And I was thinking about you, I love you. Just something to think about.
This is a jam goes out to everybody's favourite party girl;) My beautiful Tambourine.
To all you sexy business women walking downtown, looking sexy in their grey- scratch that sexy charcoal business skirt with matching blazer over a collared pinstripe blouse. Usually your striding with great confidence. Legs clad in taupe pantyhose. What's that you're carrying? Oh, it looks like you're bringing work home tonight, something to do between dinner and This is the Voice. And though your short snappy haircut is shimmering in the nearly spring sunlight, I must raise my hand and ask you this...
WHat is up with those white New Balance runners?
Boo! Hiss! I mean you are rocking your shit otherwise. Make up- Check! Hair-did- Check! Job-requiring unpaid-overtime- Check! Lady-I mean it. There isn't a point in life when you have to give in to the Sneakers and skirt combo. You can find very comfortable, supportive and visually stunning shoes, it has become an attainable dream. Hurray for women's lib:) Whoa! With this new found feminism can I still remain feminine? "Oh Hell yes" *insert 3 cross body snaps. Colour me shocked. Somewhere, some woman put their hand up and said: "Can you try a litte harder? I am tired of my feet hurting." and then someone who knows the shoe folks said "Hey yeah, skirts look way better with pretty shoes." And so it was, shoes with straps to lock and load your feet. Heels with magic soles made of cloud. Boots that cradle your ankles, lullaby-ing them to sleep. Look around Beautiful, this dream can be yours. Your new spring shoes await you. Please, please, please, I know you can do it. You know you should do it. So do it, cause no one wants to be the Old woman who lived in the New Balance Shoe.
 So yesterday if you were out and about or you have a window or a smart phone or a short wave radio you probably know that it was 13 degrees. And let's not pretend that 13 degrees isn't a BIG deal the first time it rolls around in our home and native land. Welcome lucky 13 with a low of 6, Yahoo triple cherries Jackpot! So being the brave optimist that I am I was easily convinced to sit up on my rooftop patio and enjoy this warm snap, now I may have over shot with no socks in my ballet flats, and just my thermal vest with a hoodie- but it's 13 dammit! and I am going to enjoy it. Get some much needed vitamin D and try to ignore that obnoxious blustery wind. Well, I was able to cope un-fortified for 23 mins. Then in a tiny voice I finally admitted- I think I need more layers to a chorus of unanimous agreement. So the three of us hobbled on frozen feet inside to insulate. Adding knee high socks, a scarf, mitts, and a under layer long john shirt- I was "Ah toasty" in no time. Now, the wind? I mean seriously, was he feeling left out that his much nicer cousin Sunshine was getting all the attention? Is that why he had to come around with his bad attitude and dusty breath and push us around. I don't mean to sound wind-ist- as I usually love him- he's such pleasant company on a hot summer day, winter though affects his disposition- and boy was he dis-posed yesterday. Take exhibit A the above photo is an example of Mr. Wind's handy work. He's such a jerk, although on the plus side I look like a grown up version of a hard-living Pebbles Flintstone. Regardless, I would not admit defeat and sat upon my rooftop for a total of 78 mins, which is pretty impressive, though it was more to prove I wouldn't be pushed around by that snotty Mr. Wind. After a quick warm up, I was on my way to Why-not-Wednesdays- where it was decided we'd sit on the patio- though we were no where near the heaters that called to us their flaming siren song. Oh and of course the special of the day was Raspberry Slush! Whoa wait it's only a blustery 13 degrees- who do we think we are? Slush? Oh alright, Why-not-Wednesdays unfold for themselves. As we watched the people around us gobble their food and get the heck inside I realized that you can't hurry love, no, you just have to wait. Patio season is coming, it just isn't here yet, that being said the next day it's over 10 you'll probably find me on a patio- I just won't learn, I miss you summer, Mr Groundhog said you'd be here soon. I don't think spring would mind if you came early, she's pretty temperate:)
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