BooksEtc.

I Dare You...

2012-02-17T11:03:00.000-05:00

As a child, if you dared me to do something, I‘d do it. There didn’t even have to be a monetary reward involved. The thrill and reward was taking on the dare – earning the respect of my peers. Funny kind of respect, but, hey, we were kids…

I once:

Chewed a blob of gum found on the sidewalk...

if memory serves, it looked remarkably like this one

Ate a dead ant (not even chocolate covered)

And a dead worm

the one I ate was smaller – and I refused the dare to eat a live one

I also ate a bowl of porridge full of tiny insects. This last culinary delight was not on a dare but was by mistake - my father’s mistake. He’d prepared it from a bag of OLD oats and I would have eaten anything made by my father.

couldn’t find an image with insects – these are raisins

Times have changed. This week I threw out an entire apple and some grapes – all appeared to have been nibbled by mice. No amount of washing could convince me to eat their leftovers. Although, yes, I would if I were starving.

Where did my spirit of adventure go? My willingness to take risks?

Or maybe I just need someone to dare me…???

photo credits: google images

Books vs. Looks

2012-02-11T11:01:00.000-05:00

A friend sent me this image – a friend who knows me very well. And loves me in spite of the knowledge.

One could substitute the word “shoes” with clothes, jewelry, make-up, purses*… They’d all fit. I’m not a girlie-girl – and I’m quite okay with that.

Yes, I am addicted to books but there are worse addictions. And perhaps I have one of those, too. But never mind that…

Twice in the past few months I have gathered up books I’ve read and taken them to the used book store. The last time I took six, bought twelve and paid only $45.00. Ah, joy - ah, bliss. Twelve books! And only $3.75 per book. Yes, I must keep in mind what I paid for the original six but most were bought at the same store. And think of the money I save by not purchasing what I consider non-essentials.*

I may look like hell and be on the MOST WANTED list of the fashion police (one of my sisters is a member of the force) but I am well read.

Yes, I own and wear this t-shirt. With pride. But usually under something else when in public.

P.S. I’ve written about my book addiction before but it happens to be a recurring theme in my life. The spot-on image I received prompted this post.

photo credit: http://whispering-literature.tumblr.com/page/3

Do the Math...

2012-02-04T07:57:00.000-05:00

These:

From a thoughtful gentleman encouraging me to “keep on smiling.”

Plus this:

Received on Thursday.

(not a great scanning job - click to enlarge)

Equals:

I’m a happy camper!

(just an expression – I don’t like camping)

While I’m sure most people understand the joy of receiving flowers simply because someone cares about you and not for any special occasion, I’m not so sure everyone will understand why a divorce brings happiness.

Well, God forbid you ever find yourself in my shoes (or boots) but if you’d had to wait as long as I did to get one, I suspect you’d be happy – and relieved – too! No regrets. (Except for my kids.)

January and December? Not so good. February? Things are looking better…

Knock on wood.

photo credit: google images

Down But Not Out...

2012-01-30T10:42:00.000-05:00

Apparently, I set the bar awfully high in my last blog post as to the conditions of my return – to be rested and cheerful. Considering what’s still going on in my life, god knows when either of these conditions will ever be met. For sure, there’s light at the end of the tunnel but it seems to be coming from a 15W bulb.

So, as a distraction (an escape?) I’m back. And what have I got to say? Not much. But I’m determined to churn out an upbeat blog post.

(ten minutes have passed – trying to come up with something positive – it’s not happening…)

Bloody hell. I’m stumped. This is so not me. I’m going to have to resort to an attempt at humour – at my own expense.

I SHOULD NEVER HAVE WRITTEN THAT! I just knocked over my coffee mug – coffee all over the kitchen counter and on and in the stove! Shit. (I would have found this amusing - had it happened to someone else.)

About the attempt at humour at my own expense? I’m limiting it to two more. Consider the coffee spill # 1.

# 2 – Tripped on a mat in the fruit and vegetable section of the grocery store the other day and my cart hit a full basket of lemons. An intriguing and almost beautiful fall-out from the encounter, but still…embarrassing and a pain in the ass to pick up.

# 3 – Finally lost it with the site supervisor in charge of renovations next door. (Horrendous noise, reverberations and blocking of my driveway since September.) So, there I am – in a rage – standing in the mud pit of a front yard beside some effing loud machine – arms flailing, voice raised (and wobbly), a few tears (of frustration) – giving him holy hell. Very, very effective – particularly the tears bit. I should have done this months ago. Every workman who observed this scene now nods to me with a quiet hello and stays a safe distance from the crazy lady. No more blocking of the driveway, stomping about on my front yard or walking on my roof. Looking and behaving like an idiot can work. (Although not with lemons.)

Have these accounts of my follies and foibles made you smile? A bit? They worked for me. I’m smiling. Success – from my end.

photo credit: google images

Absence

2012-01-21T09:02:00.000-05:00

It seems as though I’ve been away for a very long time and yet it’s only been 22 days. During my absence, my mother died. This was a very personal experience for my family and not one I wish to share the private details of on my blog. We got through it - with tears, love and laughter. Yes, laughter. That’s the way we are.

My thanks to those who kept in touch via email and phone calls. You provided comfort - and smiles.

While my mind seems ready to resume my version of a so-called normal life, my body is lagging. I’m amazed at the fatigue that hit me this week. Once I manage to shake this, I’ll be back blogging on a more regular basis – and hopefully with cheerier topics.

Thanksgiving 2011

Update

2011-12-30T07:56:00.000-05:00

Things have not been going well regarding my mother’s health for the past while – and even more so since the 25^th. We’re not sure what the next few days, weeks (months?) will bring.

I’ll return when I’m able to think clearly.

And since I’ve never been known for thinking clearly, who knows when that might be.

Wishing you all a Happy New Year.

Holiday Break Time...

2011-12-21T07:54:00.000-05:00

“And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

~Dr Seuss

A wonderful video of Little Drummer Boy created by the talented 18 year old Sean Quigley from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. One of our crazy Canadian young men – wearing shorts in the midst of all that snow!

“People have been asking... so, yes, I played all the parts, sang, arranged and recorded the whole thing. I had my sister run the camera for specific shots, then I edited the video and posted it here!”

~ Sean Quigley

Enjoy!

Joyeux Noël

Merry Christmas

Season’s Greetings

To You All!

Okay? Okay!

2011-12-18T21:41:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine who recently asked if I’m okay (and received an eye-roll in response) sent me this. Funny lady.

Ever have days or weeks like this?

Crazy times.

Why I Am Not On Etsy

2011-12-14T08:40:00.000-05:00

This is what inspired me:

This is my creation:

I give myself an E – for effort.

Would it have helped if I’d used a set of encyclopedias? I doubt it.

photo credit: google images

(One of) My Great Escapes

2011-12-08T16:57:00.000-05:00

I’m gettin’ out of Dodge this weekend. Leaving the city and all its Christmas cheer and incessant Christmas music in my dust. Perhaps when I return I’ll be more receptive to these festive reminders but right now I’m a bit weary of it all. It’s been bombarding us since November.

I’m pretty sure there hasn’t been a massive dump of the of the powdery white stuff where I’m headed. The picture of me lugging my stuff through the snow was taken last year at the cottage. Someone (who goes by the name of Beth) did a piss poor job of shoveling the path. And, yes, I was wearing sweat pants. They’re warm - and style is not an issue when you’re at the cottage. Truthfully, style isn’t much of an issue for me anywhere but, as in all things, I do know right from wrong. Sometimes my choices are right, sometimes they’re wrong…

While I’m eager and anxious to return to the cottage (a place of beauty, refuge and peace) that’s not where I’m off to this time. Instead, I’m going to this beautiful place…

…where two wonderful people make me feel so welcome and so comfortable that it’s like a second home. How lucky I am not only to have another “home” but to have such people in my life.

I’m a strong, competent and independent woman – have always been so and these traits have stood me in good stead now that I’m on my own. But sometimes it’s awfully nice to be taken care of – to be in the capable, generous and loving hands and company of such supportive and amazing friends.

I’m hoping they don’t play Christmas carols the entire time, but if they do, I’ll sing along. Which shows you just how special these people and this place are to me!

Lost and Found

2011-12-05T10:12:00.000-05:00

Just started reading Falling Together by Marisa de los Santos and I’m already finding treasures to jot down. One of the many joys of reading – discovering new ways of looking at the world and/or at words themselves.

“It was the first time Pen had ever seen Will lose his temper, although “lose his temper” never seemed quite the right way of describing it. What got lost was everything else, all the things that made Will himself: empathy and patience and decency, his sense of humor, his sense of justice, everything fine and good deserting him in one ugly rush.”

And that’s what it’s really like, isn’t it? Our temper emerges – we don’t lose it. It’s always there, lurking below the surface. And then suddenly (or not so suddenly) we’re no longer in control of our anger, our fury. It’s the other parts of ourselves – the good parts – that are temporarily submerged, buried by anger and frustration. And how quickly that eruption can occur – which is a bit scary. If you are really, really mad, it can be difficult to even recognize yourself amidst the rage. You’re no longer the self you take pride in being.

For most of us, the emergence of this ugly side of our nature is followed by regret and remorse. Or not. Sometimes a good temper tantrum can be cathartic. I had two mini-temper tantrums yesterday. After each one, my better self (the self I adore!) returned and with it, my sense of humour. I was able to laugh at myself. Thank God. It must be awful to be perpetually angry at the world or yourself. Worse than awful – tragic.

I’m going to make a concerted effort not to “lose my temper” today. It could happen. I’m going Christmas shopping. And while I always start off in a good mood, this seasonal venture often brings out the worst in people - the parking lot rage, the line-ups, the grumbling...

It’s a slippery slope, my friends. How easily it can turn into Ho! Ho! Hell!

Perhaps if I keep a smile plastered on my face?

When you're smiling

The whole world smiles with you…

photo credit: google images

A Little Bit of This and That...

2011-12-01T10:17:00.000-05:00

I was surfing the net. I started off looking up something very important (yes, it was) and ended up going from site to site to site. It happens. And sometimes when it happens, you find some gems. Such as….

This:

I love it. Of course I do. It has to do with books. And it delights me that I’ve read so many of the books appearing in this cloud. I so admire the creator’s taste in reading.

And this:

“The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.”

~ Ayn Rand

Which struck a nerve. I simply have to remind myself that the only barrier to my taking action of any kind is my own reluctance – my own oftentimes hesitant nature. And that can be overcome. This, I know.

And then there’s this:

“It’s impossible,” said Pride. “It’s risky,” said Experience. “It’s pointless,” said Reason. “Give it a try,” whispered the heart.

~ author unknown

I’m almost at the point of heeding the advice of that whisper. But I think the heart has to speak up just a bit louder in order to completely drown out the words of pride, experience and reason.

And that’s all there is, folks…

photo credit: http://imgfave.com

Recipe

2011-11-28T08:46:00.000-05:00

lousy picture # 1

lousy picture # 2

Six people

Three dogs

One pile of raccoon sh*t in the backyard

One stinky dog in the shower

Two males hanging outdoor Christmas lights (early but the weather was nice)

One woman observing, cell phone in hand

Two males hollering at woman, “Go away – we know what we’re doing!”

Woman stays, taking lousy pictures with cell phone

A lovely roast beef dinner

Raucous, rude and scintillating dinner table conversation

A birthday cake flop (first flop ever – it will become family legend)

A defective camera (no pictures of the birthday boy - should have used cell phone and at least had lousy ones)

Copious amounts of wine and beer

Birthday presents, laughter & more “scintillating” conversation

Five people head out to local bar around 10:30 p.m.

One woman left with three dogs (woman reflects - when did she last go out anywhere at 10:30??)

One dog joins her in bed

Despite unfamiliar companion, woman falls asleep

All dogs repeatedly bark and race to front door at the slightest hint of noise

First two times, woman shouts, “No!”

Next two times, woman yells, “Shut up!”

(Exhausted) woman finally hollers, “F*ck off!”

Dogs are quiet

Group of five arrive home at approximately 3:00 a.m.

Dogs all bark and race to front door

Woman puts pillow over head

Everyone crashes…

Sunday morning – one woman and three dogs awake and up far too early…

Group of five sleep on and on…

Combine above ingredients:

Voilà!

You have created a wonderful family gathering & a tired (but happy) woman

Love you all, you crazy bunch – dogs included!

Connection

2011-11-25T08:30:00.000-05:00

This post is dedicated to all who own iPhones, Blackberrys, Smartphones, Dumbphones….and WHO ARE INCAPABLE of putting their thumbs to rest and these gadgets aside when in the company of someone who is visible – whose presence requires the use of all five senses. Well, perhaps not always smell, touch and taste but definitely sight and hearing.

The list includes two of my sons. The third is like his mother – doesn’t feel the necessity to be connected with the entire world (slight exaggeration) at all times. We happen to enjoy the company of the people we’re with – like to give them our undivided attention and receive theirs.

Enjoy the song – and take note of the chorus.

Love the One You're With – Crosby, Stills & Nash

Lyrics

If you're down and confused

And you don't remember who you're talkin' to

Concentration slips away

Cause your baby is so far away.

Well, there's a rose in a fisted glove

And the eagle flies with the dove

And if you can't be with the one you love

Love the one you're with

Love the one you're with

Don't be angry, don't be sad,

Don't sit cryin' over good things you've had,

There's a girl right next to you

And she's just waiting for something you do.

Well, there's a rose in a fisted glove

And the eagle flies with the dove

And if you can't be with the one you love

Love the one you're with

Love the one you're with

Turn your heartache right into joy

She's a girl, you're a boy,

Get it together make it nice

Ain't gonna need anymore advice.

Well, there's a rose in a fisted glove

And the eagle flies with the dove

And if you can't be with the one you love

Love the one you're with

Love the one you're with

photo credit: http://www.lip-service.com/webzine/tag/texting-addiction/

Done

2011-11-22T07:46:00.000-05:00

On Sunday I had what I shall refer to as an “I’m done” day. Loosely translated, (because I’m still trying to figure out my use of that expression) I was in a foul mood.

A series of unfortunate events (thank you, Lemony Snicket) eventually had me finally and repeatedly muttering, “I’m done… I’m done…I’m done…”

Done with what? Life? My “mutters” made it seem like I was about to off myself. I am most definitely not that far gone.

The experience was reminiscent of a child’s temper tantrum – adult version. (And, yes, I did have some whopper tantrums as a child.)

I refused to do any of the stupid chores around here, did not answer a call from an acquaintance whose misery is ongoing (although not fatal) and actually threw something on the floor – not something breakable because then I would have had to clean up the mess. The list could go on but you get the drift.

Giving my tantrum and mutterings further thought, perhaps I was simply done with all responsibilities, sadness and frustrations having to with the people, places and things in my life. I needed a time out – needed to temporarily abdicate my role as a mature adult.

A friend dropped by later in the day and patiently listened to my rant. In the midst of my blah, blah, blah tirade, I paused and asked her, “But who was I talking to with all that muttering?”

“The voices in your head,” she replied with a grin.

Finally, the day and the friend brought laughter. Because, yes, my behaviour was crazy, I’m a little crazy and life can get crazy.

Is there a point to this post? Not particularly.

But, I’m done. ;)

photo credit: google images

Certifiably Crazy

2011-11-18T10:50:00.003-05:00

I need certified copies of two original documents. I’d assumed only a lawyer or notary public could do this – which pissed me off. However, not so. I checked the government web site re: the particular legal matter I’m dealing with and found a list of various others who can do the deed.

While relieved to see not just lawyers and notaries qualify, this list also pissed me off.

Do these people have a monopoly on honesty and integrity?

Lawyers?? Accountants?? Politicians??

Are the rest of us not to be trusted? Are we considered incapable of recognizing a “true copy of the original document” and signing our names? What about my local librarian? Bank teller? A retired electrician? Or for that matter, ME! I realize I can’t certify my own copies but I believe I possess the wits, intelligence and sight to certify others’.

I am insulted – both for myself and for every other honest, literate person capable of completing this task. I’m still trying to figure out why these people are the “chosen” and the rest of us are not. I wondered if all who work in these professions require a background/police check. But for an optometrist? A professional engineer? Or could it be they must all be affiliated with some official organization? But if so, why would this guarantee their honesty? Or their intelligence?

What am I missing? Any explanations?

Government rules and regulations – the law in general – frequently make no sense at all. Which really isn’t a great revelation, is it?

Dear Santa - Part Two

2011-11-16T10:39:00.000-05:00

Apparently, I am still playing Santa to young children this Christmas – and delighted to do so.

I purchased this antique dollhouse for an eight year old girl named Beth. Considering the fact Beth is now a mature woman of a certain delectable age, she is inordinately thrilled with her early Christmas gift. And if you are at all curious as to the history of a dollhouse vis-à-vis young Beth, check out this link.

While in an antique store, I stood mesmerised in front of this dollhouse. It was calling my name. “Beth (or, rather, Bethie…), you want me. We’ve been destined to be together lo these many years…” Okay, okay, I realize it wasn’t actually talking – that the voice I was hearing was my own, but still – enchantment reigned. And the storeowner knew he was looking at an easy mark.

Moral of the story? It may sound crass, but not only can money can buy happiness, it can also purchase a dream. And it is never too late to fulfill a dream – if you remain a child at heart.

And, no, I do not “play” with it. Yet. It needs repairs. Hence, its very affordable price. I have a handyman coming to do repairs around the house in two weeks. I wonder if he’d consider working on a dollhouse?

(if a certain someone is reading this and his memory happens to be in “function mode” – yeah, I know…it was a very, very early xmas gift)

Knock, Knock...

2011-11-13T17:10:00.001-05:00

“I’ve been trying for some time now to develop a lifestyle that doesn’t require my presence. “

~ Garry Trudeau

Does this quotation strike a chord with you?

It strikes a glorious, wonderful chord with me! Not only because of its delightful absurdity but in light of the unsolicited advice and encouragement I’ve received these past few years from various well-intentioned cheerleaders.

Perhaps becoming newly single does open doors to amazing opportunities and adventures but I’d just as soon leave some of those doors closed.

I never went sky-diving or mountain climbing before – why would I now? (Extreme examples, yes…)

I’d love to oblige my cheer-leading squad – but could do so only if it were possible to arrange for a new lifestyle that didn’t require my presence. ;)

The doors I have opened may be small ones but they’ve made me happy. The essential Beth hasn’t changed. Don’t think she ever will.

photo credit: google images

Guest Blogger...Travis Erwin

2011-11-11T07:43:00.001-05:00

Surprise!

There are good surprises, like going to the grocery store with just enough money in your pocket to buy ground chuck, only to discover T-Bones are on sale. Then there are bad surprises, like coming home from work to find both your mother-in-law and her eggplant casserole parked at your kitchen table.

Surprise hating kids of all ages will shimmy and shake every present under the tree to remove the mystery from Christmas morning. While others will not even touch their gift for fear the weight or feel will spoil their yuletide magic.

To surprise or not to surprise. It can be a polarizing subject on matters such as sonograms and the gender of a baby.

Me? My stance is firm. Both feet are planted in the soil of it’s better to be surprised camp.

But I’m not stupid. I realize there are exceptions. Twenty five people jumping out at a 90 year old woman is never a good idea, even if it is her birthday.

Now I’m still a good many years shy of 90, but if I’m truthful I’ve had my share of life threatening surprises … like my employment at Pearl’s Feed and Seed. I went to work at the dusty Texas feedstore at the tender age of 16. My boss was, and is, the most morally bankrupt man I’d ever met, but I didn’t know that when quite surprisingly, I landed the job that changed my life..

Here is a scene from my recently published book THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES which explains how I came to claim a job I never set out to have.

There we were, talking to Doyle, when Hunter opened his mouth

and said, “Are you hiring? I need a job, and it would be bad-ass

to work here.”

I don’t know what overcame me. Maybe it was the sun streaking

through the fly-specked window. Or the dust motes floating lazily

around Doyle’s head. Heck, maybe it was just the fact I didn’t

really like Hunter Tomkins, but for whatever reason, a compulsion

hit me. “Doyle already promised to hire me,” I blurted. As if

willing him to go along with my lie, I stared Doyle straight in the

eye. “Didn’t you?”

The corner of Doyle’s lip curled upward in a smile. Winking at

me, he said, “Yes, I did. Travis starts Saturday morning at seven thirty.”

Doyle later confessed he hadn’t really needed to hire more help,

but he’d been impressed by the way I’d cock-blocked Hunter.

He also told me my arrival had royally pissed off Jerry, his lone

employee before I hit the scene. I soon found out, Doyle enjoyed

few things more than annoying those foolish enough to call him

boss.

Here is the blurb from the back of the book.

If The Feedstore Chronicles brand of comedic mischief and morally ambiguous hijinks, sounds like something you, or someone you know would enjoy order a copy or ten for all those on your Christmas list. And if they happen to be surprise-hating, package shakers fill the box with marbles. That will show ‘em.

The Feedstore Chronicles is available in paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and for order at most other book retailers.

Introducing Friday's Guest Blogger

2011-11-10T13:06:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow (god willing and if I can figure out how to do it) I’m hosting a guest blogger – Travis Erwin of One Word, One Rung, One Day.

I’ve known Travis – in the virtual sense only – for many years. He is a fellow writer who possesses talent, determination and perseverance.

His “One Day” has arrived!

On November 1, 2011 his book THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES was released. So far, I’ve only read some wonderful & humorous excerpts but it’s on my Amazon Wish List. A Christmas present for Beth – with love from, Beth.

Please tune in tomorrow and welcome Travis.

(And if I foul up Friday’s posting, please tune in another day…)

Travis – if you read this (and you should) reply to my email. I need help!

Computer 2 / Beth 0

2011-11-07T07:46:00.000-05:00

I recently went to a store to make prints from a DVD – a new venture for me but one I’m sure the rest of the world has experienced.

Unfamiliar with the entire process (as well as the computer, keyboard and mouse) I’d occasionally pause for some “huh?” moments. At one particularly perplexing part of the process, I must have paused for too long. The computer screen suddenly shouted at me:

“ARE YOU STILL THERE?”

Well, it felt like it was shouting with the 50 point bold font. I was quite taken aback and insulted - with no way of responding in kind. (“Of course I’m still here, you condescending hunk of metal! Give me a break – I’m new at this.”) I was literally rendered speechless because, really, who talks back to a computer? At least in public.

Reluctantly, I admit the computer may have been slightly on the mark. I was a bit of a dolt. At the end of the process, the screen showed an image of a receipt coming out of a slot with the instructions, “Take receipt.” This prompted yet another, “huh?” moment. (“How? It’s on the screen.”)

I actually looked at both sides and the back of the computer for the receipt.

It was at the cashier’s desk.

There are times I wonder why I publish posts exposing myself as a technological dunce (or for that matter, any kind of dunce). But the day I’m no longer able to laugh at myself – and share these moments – will be a sad one indeed.

Finally...

2011-11-03T11:21:00.001-04:00

There’s been too much Etc. and not enough Books on this blog. Since I don’t want to change the name to Etc.Books (doesn’t sound right) today’s post is devoted to books – their origins, history, etc., right back to the earliest known books - the clay tablets of Mesopotamia and the papyrus rolls of Egypt both dating from the early 3rd millennium BC. KIDDING! I would not subject you to such a scholarly treatise.

First up – a few pictures. While taking these, I realized every room in this house (with the exception of one bathroom and the laundry and furnace rooms) contains books. You decorate a home to make it feel comfortable, inviting and to make yourself feel at home, right? Well, being surrounded by books does all those things for me. Makes me happy. To quote Heinrich Mann, “A house without books is like a room without windows.”

study/library/piano room

antique set of Shakespeare on mantle

a bit messy but i like it

Next - Books Recently Read & Very Much Enjoyed

Non-fiction

The Kennedy Brothers - Richard D. Mahoney
Better - Dr. Atul Gawande
Complications - Dr. Atul Gawande
The Checklist Manifesto - Dr. Atul Gawande
Every Patient Tells a Story - Lisa Sanders, M.D.
(Dr. Sanders is the technical advisor to the TV show House, M.D. – which I don’t watch but perhaps you do.)

Fiction

A Visit From the Goon Squad - Jennifer Egan
The Marriage Plot - Jeffrey Eugenides
The Accidental - Ali Smith
Recipes for a Perfect Marriage - Morag Prunty
A bit late for me to be reading this!! ;)
So Much For That - Lionel Shriver
(I love all Lionel Shriver’s books.)
Behind the Scenes at the Museum - Kate Atkinson
A Short History of Women - Kate Walbert
The Believers - Zoë Heller

There are more but I’ve given them away and can’t remember all the titles. One day soon I will forget the books themselves and will be content reading the same book over and over and over… What a savings! Because, yes, this is an addiction. I justify my addiction by never paying full price for a book, frequenting a used book store, being the grateful recipient of gift certificates and sharing. The fact I don’t spend money on make-up (sensitive skin) and am not a slave to fashion saves me untold millions – which I then spend on books. Austin Phelps had a similar outlook - "Wear the old coat and buy the new book.”

I read two to three books a week. And, no, I do not spend my entire day reading. I speed-read – taught myself to do this at the age of ten with an old-fashioned, no-tech speed-reader learning device of my father’s. I also read books of his I probably shouldn’t have but was not left scarred for life. (I don’t think…)

My love of books began at an early age – and it is a love affair that has lasted my entire life. Cannot imagine it ever ending.

“Books are a uniquely portable magic.” ~ Stephen King

Yes, they most certainly are.

P.S. I’m leaving for another get-a-way to this place. Catch up with you all upon my return. Have a lovely weekend.

Wow

2011-10-31T12:24:00.000-04:00

Germany Finds 55 Billion Euro After Accountancy Error
October 29, 2011, 7:55 am EDT

BERLIN (Reuters) - Germany is 55.5 billion euros ($78.7 billion) richer than it thought due to an accountancy error at the bad bank of nationalized mortgage lender Hypo Real Estate (HRE), the ﬁnance ministry said.

As someone who has difficulty grasping the concept of trillions of dollars (an amount being tossed about these days) I don’t possess a particularly keen understanding of international monetary affairs. However, I think I’m safe in assuming this was indeed a very bad accounting error. Would a $78.7 billion error be the equivalent of my being out by $7.87 in my banking? Or .78? Or .07?

Europe's largest economy now expects its ratio of debt to gross domestic product to be 81.1 percent for 2011, 2.6 percentage points less than previously forecast, it said.

This sort of makes sense to me.

The HRE-linked bad bank FMS Wertmanagement was set up after HRE was nationalized in 2009, so that HRE could transfer the worst non-performing assets to an off-balance sheet bank guaranteed by the German state.

I have trouble comprehending this kind of financial maneuvering. Don’t attempt to explain it to me.

The government nonetheless welcomed the news which pointed to a further reduction of Germany's debt mountain, which remains above the European Union's Maastricht requirement for 60 percent of GDP.

I sort of get this but I’m ticked off that the European Union’s financial woes and (vain?) attempts to solve them affect my paltry RRSP investments.

However, the opposition Social Democrats (SPD) expressed astonishment at the extent of the accountancy error, for which they see the government as responsible.
"This is not a sum that the Swabian housewife hides in a biscuit tin and forgets," said SPD parliamentary leader Thomas Oppermann. "To overlook such a sum is completely irresponsible."

I wholeheartedly agree. But I never forget about money I hide in a biscuit tin.

FMS Wertmanagement was created when toxic loans and securities with a face value of 173 billion euros were transferred from HRE in October last year, creating Germany's largest bad bank. ($1 = 0.705 Euros)

I understand the words “bad bank.”

Although I have – up until now – trusted Canadian banks, I’m wondering if I should withdraw my money and hide it. (Not in a biscuit tin.) But can you pay bills in cash these days?

Good Times

2011-10-28T08:38:00.000-04:00

"I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, “If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.”
~ Kurt Vonnegut

Thank you, Kurt. (Love this man.)

I’ve learned to do this – even if it’s simply enjoying coffee with a friend, a hug or moments of craziness and laughter. It makes the tough times bearable - and the good ones even better.

Enjoy your weekend!

Wordy

2011-10-23T17:37:00.000-04:00

Submission Guidelines: Word Count – 2000
Beth’s word count: 2526

Submission Guidelines: Word Count – 800
Beth’s word count: 972

Yes, I am wordy. And, yes, I have to do a great deal of editing. Not on blog posts, although I probably should. And I’m sure there are certain people who wish I was forced to adhere to a minimum word count in my emails. As for Twitter? I’m not yet ready to subject myself to the challenge of sticking to 140 characters.

One minor way to reduce my word count is to delete the word “that” whenever I’ve used it unnecessarily. Which I do.

Rule of thumb: If you read over your sentence and it makes sense without the word “that” – remove it.*

Example:
(I thought this was a good example because it uses “that” twice.)

I never knew that he felt that way. (Get rid of the first “that.”)

I never knew he felt that way. (The sentence makes sense minus the first “that” but the second “that” remains because it would NOT make sense if it read: “I never knew he felt way.”)

Are you still with me?

I don’t remember who gave me this advice but I’ve been using it ever since. AND IT DRIVES ME CRAZY. Instead of waiting for the editing process, I’m forever pausing to check my use of “that.”

Why am I sharing this with you? Well, I thought it an interesting tidbit to pass along. I’m also wondering if anyone else will now become as obsessive in regard to using the word “that.”

Let me know. ;)

*For a proper grammatical explanation re: the use of “that” – don’t rely on me – check elsewhere...read all about pronouns, clauses, etc.

Neighbourhood Friction

2011-10-20T10:28:00.000-04:00

A work stoppage order has been put in place regarding my new next door neighbour’s pool installation.

This may cause a delay of eight weeks…which would bring us to the cold and possibly snowy weather of November…which could mean work on the pool may not resume until spring...which means the “hole” through the basement must remain and thus basement renovations would also be postponed.

The neighbour on the other side of the pool property brought in the heavy artillery – the city government – due to his concerns about possible damage to his tree and the potential cost of having to remove it.

I sympathize with his concerns. However, we were all informed of the-pool-to-be prior to the work beginning. I don’t understand why he didn’t voice his concerns before digging commenced.

With the government stepping in, matters are now out of the hands of those immediately involved and affected. The paperwork and ill-will has begun.

Why can’t people simply talk to one another? Initiate a civilized and reasoned discussion regarding such matters before resorting to government intervention? Have we abdicated our own problem solving abilities to those of the government’s? (Horrors!) What about our own responsibility to deal with our problems in a rational manner?

Figuratively speaking, I am in the middle of this. I have heard from both sides. I’ve actually considered offering my services as a referee but I’m not sure they’d be appreciated. Nor do I think it would be a particularly wise move to place myself in the midst of all that pumped up testosterone.

Gentlemen, start your engines - and may you find some common ground and a viable mutually satisfactory solution on the track…

What Are The Odds?

2011-10-17T07:00:00.000-04:00

I own a small car. If I end up parked between two huge SUVs, backing up is a challenge. I don’t have a clue what or who may be coming behind in either direction.

Obviously, my parking spot of choice is between two small or normal-sized cars. However, when I manage to get this coveted spot, invariably one or both cars have been replaced by an SUV upon my return to the parking lot.

Using a perverse sort of logic, on occasion I’ve deliberately parked between two SUVs, hoping at least one will have been replaced by a smaller car by the time I return. This rarely, rarely happens. They’re either still there or another SUV has taken one of the spots.

The day the picture below was taken, I’d parked between two small/normal sized cars. What a shocker when heading back to my car and seeing this! Despite my consternation, I laughed. Thwarted – BIG TIME.

Note - there are no cars parked to my left. I’m assuming no one wanted to be near that massive truck. Which actually made it easier for me to get out. I simply backed up a bit, turned left & used all that empty space to get out.

And that, my friends, is the sort of half-assed luck life presents me with – but it’s better than no luck at all.

Not Anymore...

2011-10-13T15:22:00.000-04:00

Last night I was reading a book in which a character said, “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind!”

I haven’t heard this expression for years. Nor have I used it. Which is just as well because as time goes on (i.e. as I get older) there doesn’t seem to be enough of my mind left to give away even a small piece of it.

*sigh*

photo credit: Google images

Other Worlds

2011-10-10T08:59:00.000-04:00

I have new next door neighbours – a very nice family. They’re not moving in until renovations and improvements are completed. (The husband predicts February - the wife, April. My money’s on the wife.) While the noise is horrendous, I find their reno process intriguing. I’ve seen many renovations in the neighbourhood, but never anything like this:

In order to gain access to the backyard, they dug through the basement! How odd but ingenious is that?! (Well, I think it is or I wouldn’t be writing this post.) Demolishing the garage wasn’t an option – won’t bore you with the details as to why. This underground access appeals to my sense of fantasy – it’s like a secret passage to another world! However, I can see that other world when looking out my back windows and right now it’s not a pretty sight.

The crew is clearing away just about every bit of vegetation to make way for new landscaping and a swimming pool! Personally, if I’d wanted a swimming pool built I’d have bought a house providing easy access to the backyard, but, hey, to each his own. Imagine the digger machines (or whatever they’re called) and the cement getting through that passageway?

It can be done!

That “tree-eater” made it through. (Jeez, I wish I knew the names of some of these machines.) Can you spot the seemingly dead tree branch hanging over the fence? It belonged to me. I didn’t even know it existed until the crew removed all the massively overgrown cedar trees on the other side of the fence. When asked for my permission to remove it, I said, “Hell, yes!” Good thing they asked because, quite frankly, I could have lived with the view of that branch for years before spending any more money on “repairs” around here.

The vegetation in my back yard took quite a beating from those old cedars – stunted and weird shaped growth. One of my sons suggested I have the worst of it removed. My response? No. If they managed to survive despite being overwhelmed by those cedars all these years, they deserve to live – in whatever shape.

Meanwhile, the noise continues – as do my occasional headaches from the kabooms, pounding and screeching machines. But I am such a nice neighbour. No complaints. Yet. Six more months to go…

Holiday Time...

2011-10-07T15:52:00.000-04:00

To my fellow citizens:

To All:

Mother Love

2011-10-05T08:43:00.000-04:00

My mother has Alzheimer’s disease.

She is still capable of being present – in the moment – as the mother I have always known and whose love is felt.

There are times she is not. And during some of these times, her frustration, depression and rage erupt. She becomes verbally abusive. Her venom, language and anger are staggering. This person is a stranger to me but still my mother.

As an adult, I know her hurtful words are a symptom of the disease. But the child in me is often reduced to tears by this verbal abuse. It is painful to be the object of such anger and, yes, hate.

I have learned that attempting to stem this tide of venom is futile. I stay with her and listen for as long as I can endure it but eventually have to leave. I believe it is often my presence (and that of my sisters) which prompts the rage. We are the ones who placed her in the nursing home. As she sees it, we took away her life.

There are other moments when my increasingly frail mother is simply very, very sad. During these times, she is very much aware – knows she has this disease, what it is doing to her and what is to come. She fights it. Doing so exhausts her. I admire her courage, strength and determination but her struggling efforts break my heart.

There is always a next stage with Alzheimer’s and it is always worse. You cannot anticipate when that stage will come or what it will be like. But when it comes, you do your best to deal with it. My best isn’t good enough. I can’t make anything right – I can’t fix things for my mother. She lives with the nightmare of this disease – my sisters and I live with guilt, frustration and despair. And tears.

For those of you experiencing a similar tragedy, my heartfelt sympathy.

For those of you who someday might, I have no words of wisdom or advice.

***

My mother was determined to attend my son’s wedding. She managed to make it through the ceremony but then became confused, disoriented and exhausted. She had to leave.

We took her out for her birthday dinner last night. She was very quiet but was able to read her birthday cards aloud and blessed us with her smiles. When we took her back to the nursing home she didn’t remember having had dinner.

She is already anxious as to coming here for Thanksgiving dinner but when the time comes she will rally and want to be with us. Surrounded by loved ones, she will still experience moments of feeling lost and overwhelmed. We will all take turns sitting quietly beside her.

It Could Happen

2011-09-30T09:24:00.000-04:00

I have a well-deserved reputation for being a worrier and for possessing supposedly irrational fears. When my kids point out (sometimes kindly, sometimes with exasperation) how crazy some of these fears are and how crazy I am to have them, every once in a while I come back with:

“You should be in awe of me – imagine the courage and willpower it takes just to get through the day harbouring such fears and anticipating disaster!”

My reasoned argument & logic are met with exaggerated nods and eye-rolls.

Check out the pictures below. This horror occurred just down the street. Apparently the driver of the truck left the parking brake off. Fortunately, no one was injured.

I’ve added out-of-control garbage trucks crashing into my home to my list of potential disasters.

All Thumbs

2011-09-27T16:51:00.000-04:00

I think I’ve given myself carpel tunnel syndrome from texting - although years of working at the computer have certainly contributed. But since I’ve only recently taken up texting with a vengeance, it’s probably the straw that broke the camel’s back – or finally squeezed the median nerve to the point of inflammation.

The solution to ease the pain is simple – stop texting. But will I?

How and why did texting become so popular? Since we’re all carrying cell phones, I have to wonder - why do we no longer call and talk to the people we want to communicate with rather than sending them itty-bitty typed messages?

Has actually hearing someone’s voice and carrying on a conversation become too intimate a means of communication? Horrors! A conversation might last five minutes – way too long a time commitment these days.

It’s been suggested I switch to a more advanced cell phone – one requiring the use of two thumbs to text so that my right thumb, wrist and arm are not incapacitated.

But wouldn’t I possibly end up with carpal tunnel syndrome X 2?

Double ouch.

(and, yes, this post was created with some degree of pain…)

P.S. Wedding update

The wedding day ceremonies went off without a hitch! (sorry… that phrase just popped into my head…had to use it…)

The bride and the groom were so happy!

I only cried four times.

No pictures to post because a) I don’t have any yet and b) I think I should get permission from the bride and groom and they just happen to be away….

photo credit: http://www.cellphones.ca/news/post002778/

Another Milestone...

2011-09-21T08:15:00.000-04:00

Exciting, crazy and emotional times around here.

Son #2 is getting married this Saturday!!

As mother of the groom, other than writing my speech and fretting about fitting into my dress, I’ve had very little to do in terms of prep for THE BIG DAY. I am in awe of both my daughter-in-law-to-be and her mother for all the work they’ve done. The details, the drama…

No regrets not having a daughter at this stage in life – for her sake and mine. I would make a lousy wedding planner. On the off (remote) chance my other two sons might ask for my assistance for their weddings, I’m urging them to elope.

I read my speech to my sister last weekend and she burst into tears. I’m taking that as a positive – no re-write necessary. But what are the chances I’m going to make it through the speech without crying? Slim to none.

My little boy is getting married!!! I know, I know, he’s not a little boy any more. But a mother has the uncanny ability of looking at the young man her son has become and seeing him at every stage of his life.

Ted - always ready and eager to take the plunge

Busy Times

2011-09-18T17:56:00.000-04:00

Just got back from the cottage where I did fall/winter close-up chores – setting up my defenses against a mouse invasion (I won the battle last year!), stripping beds, cleaning and turning things OFF – only to discover the gas service to my home has been turned OFF. And, yes, I have paid the gas bill. Work on gas lines is being done on my street & if you weren’t home for the disconnect/connect, you end up remaining disconnected. No hot water. I made an emergency phone call – I need a shower! A technician will arrive tonight anywhere between 7:00 and midnight. Not sure why, but I have to let him in. Hope he doesn’t mind if I greet him in my nightie if he gets here any time past 11:00. I’m exhausted.

WHY AM I EXHAUSTED?

Because for the first time ever, I (with the help of my sister) was the one to cart and stack the load of wood which was dumped on the cottage property last week. I am so proud of myself! And somewhat sore with bruises and scratches on my arms and for some reason such work did a number on my butt muscles… But I (we) did it! Now that I am finally the sole owner of the cottage, I am determined to at least try (within reason) to do everything that needs doing around the place. I am woman – hear me roar…

Having said that, next year my sons are dealing with the wood. You only have to prove yourself once, right?

I wish my stacking job looked like this one. It does not.

photo credit: http://www.tripadvisor.com/

Fields of Gold...

2011-09-12T08:31:00.000-04:00

If I told you I recently had the pleasure of a mini-vacation spent relaxing, laughing, exchanging words of love and encouragement, soaking in a hot tub under a glorious full moon, playing games, struggling with chains & locks, strolling through fields of gold (thank you, Sting…) and it all ended with smiles and promises of more – you might get the wrong idea.

Go with it…let your imagination soar.

It’s all true. I did every one of those things. But it’s all about perception and expectation when interpreting the written word, isn’t it? ;)

photo credit: http://declanod.wordpress.com/tag/fields-of-barley/

Potty Talk

2011-09-07T07:51:00.000-04:00

Does this picture inspire confidence? Two (two!) toilet bowl plungers at the ready. Even one plunger in a restroom cubicle would be enough to give a person pause.

And did I pause? Only for a matter of seconds. When you gotta go, you gotta go… A full bladder demands respect.

There was one other cubicle - with a symbol marking it as wheelchair accessible and with no plunger in sight. Tempting, but I could not bring myself to use it. What if a person in a wheelchair had to avail themselves of the facilities and I was caught using that one? I’d have felt so guilty…just terrible. Would I have been reported? Fined? Is my reluctance to flaunt the rules a Canadian thing (so polite, obedient & accommodating) or is it simply a Beth thing?

Pleased to report the use of a plunger wasn’t required. But I certainly scooted out of that stall ASAP after flushing. And I wonder - would I have actually used the plunger had the toilet overflowed? Am I THAT accommodating?

If I thought I’d feel awkward being caught in the other cubicle, imagine how I felt at the thought of being caught taking a picture of a toilet! What a bizarre fetish…

Remember Me?

2011-09-03T16:03:00.000-04:00

Yes, I am back. Again.

My thanks to all who stayed in touch via comments and emails. You kept the faith for over a year!

Among the many things that took place during that year, I finally (FINALLY!!) saw the end to my legal battle. On June 16, 2011 the Separation Agreement was signed. It only took four years, but, hey, the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel is now shining.

I can relate to Jann Arden’s song “Free.” The lyrics ring true. Well, except for the bit about changing my hair colour…I did that after the separation in 2007…and I happen to think I do look good in blue…and I wasn’t weak…blinded, yes, weak, no…and I’m not the kind to punch walls (that would hurt) or tear down paper (way too messy)...and I never lost myself…nor did I toss his stuff out on the lawn (too much effort)….

But if you listen to the song & check out the lyrics, you’ll get the drift - I’m free!

And very happy to be in such a place.

It’s like I faded
Just like the curtains in the sun
Just like the clouds I’m falling from
I let you change me
Down to the colour of my hair
Till I can’t find me anywhere

So I’m punching out walls
And tearing down paper
Cutting my bangs, yeah, sooner than later
I’m selling my soul right back to Jesus
Taking up hope and giving up weakness
Untangling the strings
I’m free, yeah
I’m free, yeah

I’m feeling better
Now that your stuff’s out in the yard
I should send God a thank-you card
Cause he’ll forgive me
Even if you never do
I never did look good in blue

So I’m punching out walls
And tearing down paper
Cutting my bangs, yeah, sooner than later
I’m selling my soul right back to Jesus
Taking up hope and giving up weakness
Untangling the strings
I’m free, yeah
I’m free, yeah
I’m free, yeah
I’m free, yeah

I’m feeling better
Now that your stuff’s out in the yard

The End?

2010-06-13T08:38:00.001-04:00

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose…

Places to go, people to see, things to do…

Hit the road, Jack…

Certain expressions or clichés exist because they contain truisms. And as jumbled or incomprehensible as the above combination of lines may seem, they ring true in my life right now. Which is also a bit jumbled.

Without getting into all the whys and wherefores, I’ve come to the conclusion that something’s got to give. In fact, a number of things have got to give. With regret, I’ve decided blogging is one of them.

During the summer months, my blogging efforts are sporadic at best so this is a good time to take my leave – be it a temporary or permanent one.

If I do return, it will probably be with an anonymous blog. While I have a soft spot in my heart for some of my regular lurkers, for certain others? Not so much.

And if I don’t return? My best wishes to you all – blogging friends both old and new.

And my thanks for the laughter, support and glimpses into your lives I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing these past few years.

Catch You Later...

2010-06-03T07:40:00.001-04:00

"I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where they're going and hook up with them later."
~ Mitch Hedburg

Ha! I find this quotation quite amusing - and not because I am cynical, world-weary or disillusioned. It just happens to tickle my fancy or my funny-bone or whatever.

But maybe I am a bit of a cynic? Why else would it hit a nerve?

Not to fret – while waiting to hook up with my dreams I’ll gather some rosebuds while I may (although I’ll have to steal from my neighbour’s garden), won’t cry over spilt milk (although I’ve been known to swear when that happens) and will refrain from putting all my eggs in one basket (they’re likely to break – hate that).

And life is but a dream anyway, right?

My love affair with the English language continues…

I’ll be away for a few days – will be hooking up with one of my dreams!

Friends in Hot and High Places

2010-05-31T09:39:00.004-04:00

Yesterday I met the delightful Reeny of Reeny’s Ramblin’. She is as amusing, intelligent and witty in person as she is on her blog.

Quite frankly, we both are. I guess that’s why we hit it off. ;)

We met at Kensington Market on one of the hottest days ever. It’s a testament to our compatibility that we stuck it out in that brutal heat for as long as we did. I shared my suntan lotion with her because, yes, I am that generous – and I enjoyed her company that much. And because it’s not a pleasant experience watching another person fry.

Reeny is probably still wondering why it took 45 minutes for our simple lunch order to materialize. I didn’t tell her then but I’m admitting it now – when you’re with me, shit happens. They had misplaced our order.

While strolling through the outdoor marketplace – chatting, burning in the sun despite the lotion and dripping sweat (we were beyond lady-like perspiration) - we came across this intriguing although slightly grungy looking establishment.

I love their slogan. (Click on the image to enlarge so you can see it clearly.)

The Hot Box Cafe: “Although cannabis is illegal in Canada, this is Toronto’s first and only pot positive café where you can light up in a safe environment and not feel guilty. If you’re 18-plus and enjoy the “greener” things in life, you can hang out on the “potio” where it’s BYOP (bring your own pot.) The café is actually a restaurant so you must purchase something in order to hang out and there’s a one hour limit, and absolutely no drinking, dealing or mooching -- but this keeps things relaxed and safe.”

In Toronto? Who knew? Not me. Figures.

Reeny and I just took pictures of the place. Truly. ;)

Sticks and Stones...

2010-05-26T09:33:00.002-04:00

“….but words will never hurt me.”

Oh, yes, words can and do hurt.

Seen and overheard in the parking lot of the LCBO:

A middle-aged couple – the wife (I assume) carrying some bottles of liquor and the husband with a cart full of them.

Wife (SHOUTING): “What the hell are you doing? I told you to stay….”

(I didn’t catch the rest of this – was in shock at the volume of and venom in her voice.)

Husband: “…mumble, mumble, mumble…”

(I didn’t catch this at all – his voice was barely audible.)

Wife (SHOUTING EVEN LOUDER): “Are you deaf or just plain stupid?”

Holy shit. This kind of thing may go in the privacy of peoples’ homes but in public?? I would not want to cross this woman and apparently neither did he. He didn’t respond to her question.

My sister and I glanced at them in passing (kind of hard not to) as we made our way to the LCBO. The woman waved her arm and yelled, “Go!” Was she talking to us or to him? We didn’t pause to find out – just kept walking.

Various Conclusions:

1. This marriage is in big trouble.

2. This is a marriage made in heaven – a sadist paired with masochist.

3. Although it was only 1:30 p.m., they’d already been drinking – or she had.

4. Once they returned home and started in on the newly purchased bottles, either one of them was going to suffer bodily harm or the husband was going to be subjected to even more verbal abuse. Or both.

An example of in vinos, veritas? Ugly, ugly truths.

This happened four days ago. Obviously, I found it disturbing since I’m still thinking about it. I know people can be cruel to one another and while I have theories as to why (low self-esteem? massive insecurities? power issues?) I’ve just never really understood how someone can inflict such cruelty upon another human being.

I’m not totally naïve, though. Evil exists. I just happen to live in a neighbourhood where it’s rarely seen.

photo credit: http://torontoist.com/2009/06/all_drink.php

By Word and Deed

2010-05-24T08:32:00.001-04:00

Among others received, the above bouquet was a gift.

Of course, being me, I questioned the “why” prompting these unexpected gifts and in doing so, received yet another one.

“Because you’re worth it.”

Well, come to think of it, yes I am. ;)

Although you know there are people in your life who believe in your worth and who demonstrate this by deed, how many actually verbalize it?

Such a lovely thing to hear.

All this - and it’s not even my birthday yet!

Walk It Off...

2010-05-20T07:50:00.001-04:00

In the past month or so I’ve gained five pounds. Two are an okay addition to the mix. The other three are not and bathing suit season is nearly upon us.

The number on the scale will continue to rise if I don’t do something - or stop doing something. Ending my current addiction to chocolate pudding cups and red licorice would be an excellent start.

So far, my weight loss/fitness plans consist of coming across various methods to achieve my goals on the Rogers Yahoo news page. I diligently copy and paste these articles to Word and have a folder labeled “Miscellaneous.” (A more specific label would depress me each time my desktop appeared.)

Two tips I’ve discovered:

1. Walking – lose 20 pounds in six months with a brisk 20 minute daily walk. I don’t have six months before I don a bathing suit in public but since I only have three pounds to lose this should be doable. Math is not my strong suit (hah!) but by my calculations if one can lose 20 pounds in 180 days I could lose 3 pounds in 27 days. Or one pound in 9 days. If I don’t bring my Twizzlers (the licorice) with me.

2. Grapefruit - start every meal with either half a grapefruit or a glass of grapefruit juice and lose about half a pound a week. No dieting required. Or exercise. I like this one – very much. I’m buying some grapefruit today but I’m wondering if sprinkling sugar on the grapefruit will nullify the intended effects. I can’t stand grapefruit without sugar.

I am currently searching the Internet for an exercise regimen that consists of visualization techniques only – no actual exercise required. The mind is a powerful thing.

Yes, I am lazy, unfit and ridiculous.

If I put as much energy into losing the weight and becoming fit as I do the research, I would be a vision to behold. Not sure of what, though.

photo credit: http://www.runningtrainers.org.uk/images/oldtrainers.jpg

Should I Carry a Compass?

2010-05-17T10:10:00.001-04:00

“And this is what I have learned – that no matter where I go in life, I’ll always end up there.”

Huh?

Some words of wisdom are simply too profound, too simple, state the obvious or just plain go over my head.

I actually paused when I read this line - paraphrased slightly to protect the book which I enjoyed. I thought I’d hit upon an Oprah or Dr. Phil moment. Neither of whom I watch. (Cross my heart - true as true.)

I’m thinking there are far too many of these “kumbayah,” guide-me-on-the-right-path utterances these days.

“Hey, I made it – I finally got here!”

Where else was I going to end up? Over there?

Yes, I’m somewhat of a cynic and I stumble a bit on that path to here, there and everywhere…but I’m pretty good with precise directions.

photo credit: http://www.palomar.edu/english/Bravura%202003/art/images/The%20Long%20and%20Winding%20Road.jpg

M.D. to Be...

2010-05-14T18:05:00.003-04:00

So much pride, joy and happiness here yesterday as we celebrated the accomplishment of my youngest son – the “baby” brother.

He was accepted into medical school!!

There were also many, many phone calls, hugs, laughter, teasing (from the big brothers), toasts made, wine and champagne consumed and premature requests for prescription drugs.

And, oh, yeah, tears. Mine. That’s what mothers do.

mother and son

(It’s taken me all day to clue in, but I think I have a bit of a hangover. Can’t remember when I last had one. Could it have been the champagne? And is it only 6:00 p.m.?)

The Post Where She Finally Speaks Out

2010-05-10T09:13:00.002-04:00

Friday night I was at a party which reminded me of the book/movie The First Wives Club – but without the revenge theme. It was apparent those in attendance adhered to the expression, “Living well is the best revenge.” We had all discovered we were much happier people no longer playing the role of wife in those marriages.

There was wine, pizza, much laughter and stories shared. And while I partied with the best of them, during the evening I felt something was amiss. I didn’t feel quite in sync with the others. Couldn’t figure it out.

Upon leaving, I congratulated the hostess yet again on the fact she and her ex had recently signed their Separation Agreement. (The reason for the celebratory evening.) She said, “It’s such a relief to have it done. It’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders after living with that stress for so long.”

Still, despite her parting words, it wasn’t until the next morning while writing her a thank you that I finally clued in as to what set me apart from the other women. And when I did, it rocked me. It shouldn’t have – it is so in-your-face obvious but apparently I have become so used to a certain way of life, I hadn’t been able see it.

It had taken her approximately one year from the decision to end their marriage to the signing of a Separation Agreement. The other women have long since finished with that part of the process. They are divorced. As for me? It’s been three years since my separation and nothing has been legally resolved. I know of lengthier cases but I consider three years a long time to live with such a matter hovering in the background. Or, at times, smack in the forefront.

I wish my not-yet-legal-ex all the best in his new life with his new house, new partner and new whatever else he desires in life. I want to be able to move on as well, put this behind me. Until attending that party, I never gave much credence to the word “closure.” Now I realize what it truly means - the peace it can bestow. I want the stress gone – the stress which manifests itself in physical ways.

I want what those other women have - an end to the battle.

I want the legal right to sell this house – to live somewhere else.

I want the cottage issue settled. I want to be able to enjoy summers with my sisters and their families in their cottages next to mine without having to divide and share the months with my ex.

I no longer want to continue paying legal bills with nothing ever being resolved.

I no longer want to have to fight for what I consider a fair and just settlement. “My way or the highway” doesn’t work for me.

Three years have taken their toll.

I am done. I am tired.

But I am not done. And I am still wide awake.

I don’t think I’ll ever attend one of those parties again until I have become a full-fledged member of that club in the legal sense. Noting the difference was hard.

And if you’ve managed to read this far, be assured my usual posts will resume sometime soon. This particular one is the sort that usually never sees the light of day. Not quite sure why I’m airing such a private matter in a public forum. Will I have regrets? Perhaps.

I’ve closed comments – encouragement, sympathy or advice are neither sought nor required – it is what it is. As for humorous comments? Those, I’ll miss. ;)

Temporarily (?) Stalled

2010-05-05T09:17:00.002-04:00

In response to a query as to how his day had gone, Jon (a writer) replies:

“….it was a plodding day. A fits-and-starts day. I did manage to establish an especially brilliant place for a semicolon.”

~ Stephanie Kallos - Sing Them Home

Jon’s words made me smile. It’s certainly progress of some sort when at the very least, there’s a place for a semicolon to go.

Alas, although I am managing to achieve many “starts” they are far outnumbered by the “fits.”

Real life has a way of interfering, of distracting me.

I need focus and discipline.

Hey – there's a big old fat fly buzzing at the window, the phone’s ringing, I need more coffee…

photo credit: http://family.moultriecreek.us/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/once-upon-a-time.jpg

Right and Wrong - Living by the Rules

2010-05-02T08:06:00.002-04:00

This is what I have learned in the past three years:

(rules = moral code/conduct)

There are no rules.

There should be rules.

We each have our own rules.

I have to live by my rules.

Your rules contradict my rules.

I can only be with people who live by rules similar to my own.

I wish there were universal rules.

I think there are.

Why do some people not play by the rules?

There are no rules.

It takes me awhile to figure things out - if indeed I have actually figured anything out. I am a bit slow - a less derogatory word would be naïve.

And, yes, I once learned the rules in kindergarten or at my mother’s knee but I possess a knock-my-head-against-the-wall tendency to forget and/or keep them straight.

Were you looking for sense and logic in this post? Regarding life and rules?? At times, common sense, logic and fair play don’t exist. I’ve learned that, too.

photo credit: http://www.easyhealth.org.uk

Serves Me Right (or Wrong)

2010-04-28T07:45:00.002-04:00

This is what you get when you’re a lousy ho-hum gardener but finally succumb to the pressure of your front lawn shining like a yellow beacon (dandelions) amidst the lush green lawns of ALL your neighbours’ and so you grab an inappropriate tool from the garage and attack those suckers with a vengeance – plunge, scoop, fling – and the adrenalin kicks in ‘cause you’re so pissed off when you realize that for every bloody hell perky yellow flower there are five other dandelion patches surrounding it (this will take forever!!) and so you pick up the pace - heave-ho, heave-ho - until you suddenly notice there is blood dripping down your wrist…and so you pause…and you stop…

…to observe this dripping blood with wonder and awe – amazed that not only were you oblivious to the creation of a blister, you didn’t even know it had broken AND that the blood has also seeped into the wooden handle of that wacko tool…

Calmly – oh so calmly - you rise with aching knees and sore back, collect the dandelion kill, dump it by the garage, go into the house, wash the blood and gore from the palm of your hand (cringing at the flap of skin) and shed some tears because the adrenalin rush has ceased and, yes, it hurts like hell and because you are still frustrated and mad – both at the dandelions and at yourself for having tackled the job in such a WRONG idiotic way and so have no one to blame but yourself and, yes, that hurts, too…

And the job is not complete.

p.s. the above photo is not one of my blister – mine is an open wound - yuck

photo credit: www.thealmightyguru.com

Love and Laughter

2010-04-25T07:38:00.004-04:00

And a good time was had by all the inmates…

Yet another birthday celebration where we play our favourite party game – “Who Can Look the Goofiest?”

My eldest won – yet again. This is one game I don’t mind losing.

Care to join us at the next birthday celebration? It will be mine! The only gift required is one of laughter. A touch of insanity is also appreciated.

You know what I find so wonderful about my kids? (Among many other things…) They’ve grown up to be friends as well as brothers. Sweet.

The Birthday Boys
(their lazy mother now does a combined party for their April birthdays)
Happy Birthday T & S!

In the Words Of...

2010-04-22T07:44:00.001-04:00

“Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

~Christopher Robin to Winnie The Pooh

I recently had a heart-to-heart with a friend who said to me, “You’re a smart woman - don’t ever forget how strong you can be.”

Being the sort of person who travels through life with an abundance of literary quotations in her head, I replied, “Hey, that reminds of what Christopher Robin told Winnie The Pooh!”

My words were met with a blank stare followed by a look of dismay. I suspect he was re-thinking that “smart woman” remark.

I explained my quantum leap of thought – the similarity of the advice.

He still looked a bit perplexed.

Hey, what man wouldn’t want to aspire to the wisdom and eloquence of Christopher Robin? Or for that matter, the wisdom of Winnie The Pooh? Or any inhabitant of the Hundred Acre Wood (aka 100 Aker Wood)?

I would take such a comparison as a compliment. ;)

P.S. We’re still friends – he just knows me a little better now – is more prepared for those quantum leaps…

photo credit: www.msu.edu/user/steinbr1/pooh/images/classic/pooh78.jpg

Weekend Summary

2010-04-19T07:39:00.002-04:00

Wine, women and song.

The song portion courtesy of three iPods and singing our little hearts out. LOUDLY.

Lots of good food but those calories were burned off with laughter – the belly-ache kind.

Sitting on Muskoka chairs on the cottage deck in t-shirts with our pant legs rolled up basking in the hot sun.

The next day – snow. Bizarre.

Sightings/Non-Sightings

- one duck
- heard one loon (I love loons)
- some creature in the woods too far away to identify (I’m okay with this)
- no bugs (too early)
- no mice (my fall battle prep was a success!)
- no bears (very much okay with this)
- one loud noise outside my window which woke me in the middle of the night with heart pounding. I do believe it was a pine cone falling on the deck. (hey, it is very quiet up there – sounds are magnified - it makes perfect sense to think a wild animal might have been strolling on the deck)

A good time was had by all.

I want to go back. Today.

Escape

2010-04-15T07:34:00.002-04:00

I’m off to the cottage – so looking forward to this mini-vacation.

I have no Internet connection there now. Nada, nil. Not even the old dial-up-from-hell one. This cyberspace disconnect will be good for my brain – not to mention my a**.

And, heck, there are other addictions to indulge.

What?! You thought I was referring to alcohol and other such naughty-natured indulgences?

No, no, no! I mean communing with nature. This too is addicting.

Sitting on the dock and/or deck, breathing in the fresh air, absorbing the sounds of the north – ALL THE WHILE KEEPING A WARY EYE OUT* FOR BEARS!!

We all come out of hibernation eventually, don’t we?

Have a wonderful weekend. I plan to.

*“keeping a wary eye out” – Such a strange expression…makes me think of an eyeball hanging out of its socket. The reality is I’ll be keeping both eyes open and looking over my shoulder. My fear of bears is something I’ll never outgrow. “Outgrow.” Yet another strange expression…

Enough, Beth! Just go!

photo credit: www.twincreeksllamas.com

S.P.E.L.L.I.N.G.

2010-04-11T08:14:00.002-04:00

Ha! You have to laugh! Well, you don’t, but I did.

After a lifetime spent correcting the spelling of my given name* - “That’s Elisabeth with an ‘s’…” - I got both the ‘s’ AND the ‘z’ with this bill!

Now the ‘a’ is missing!

What next? No vowels?

“Attention: Lszbth Stewart…”

I have mellowed. If the misspelling makes me laugh, bring it on.

*usually to no avail – I have official documents to prove it

Of Sticks and Stones...

2010-04-08T09:43:00.001-04:00

“The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.”
~Virginia Woolf

“And sometimes, their words the poison we unwittingly swallow.”
~E. Stewart

With barely perceptible movement and actions, I’m dismantling the cage, dismissing the glances and refusing to swallow that which I find unpalatable.

Progress is slow. Sometimes I lose ground.

While change is not always easy at this stage in one’s life, it is possible – and the rewards are worth the struggle.

Hell, I should have done this years ago.

Word to the wise – being nice and accommodating is not all it’s cracked up to be.

To quote Theodore Roosevelt, you can always, "Speak softly and carry a big stick…”

Or in my case, a small to medium sized one. (Old habits die hard.)

Where's the Chocolate?!!

2010-04-05T07:17:00.002-04:00

Apparently, a new Easter Bunny took over the route in our neighbourhood this year – and the boys were quite pleased with the change-up.

For the record, this booze-in-a-basket is a first. While I never thought such a thing was possible, by last week we’d OD’d on chocolate from an early Easter basket of goodies I’d received.

What better replacement for chocolate than some Heineken beer?

How times change.

An April Fool

2010-04-01T07:22:00.001-04:00

"A child of five would understand this. Send someone to fetch a child of five."
~ Groucho Marx

Big smile when I came across this quotation – so on point and timely.

It’s either my age (hormonal imbalance and all that jazz) or the myriad of thoughts swirling about my brain (do this, do that…no, do this first and then do that…) but I’m having trouble making sense of the world these days. In fact, I’m having trouble making any kind of sense - period.

My youngest helps – he very kindly points out my flawed thinking processes and occasionally manages to fill in the blanks for me.

I think a five year old would be even better. A little less judgmental, low on the sarcasm and would provide some much-needed clarity. Children have a knack for seeing the world as it is, for getting priorities straight.

Truly, there are days I think I’m nucking futs.

Maybe it’s just a case of spring fever? The warm weather has finally arrived! Had my hair all chopped off in celebration. I feel like a new woman - still “futs” but with a different look. Wonder what I’ll do next? The possibilities are endless... Skip town? Change my name? A singing career with Oreneta?

I need that five year old.

But just a rental – not to own. I’m not that crazy.

Photo credit: http://www.bestuff.com/stuff/splashing-in-puddles

Hey, That Wasn't Very Nice...

2010-03-28T07:58:00.001-04:00

Setting:

A large waiting room at a hospital clinic with a television mounted on one of the walls.

Fifteen people – ten of whom are seated so they can watch and listen to a morning talk show.

The other five are seated where they cannot see the television. Their choice.

Three of these five (myself included) are reading.

Question:

What kind of person gets up, walks over to the TV, pronounces in a loud voice, “Verbal diarrhea!” while turning the volume down to a so-low-you-must-strain-to-hear-level and returns to his seat with a smile of satisfaction?

If you answer, “A person who possesses high standards in television programming,” you are not my kind of person.

If you answer, “A pompous a** with an overblown sense of entitlement and no consideration for others,” you are my kind of person.

I glanced at the crestfallen faces of those ten people and wondered if anyone would challenge him. No one did. Most were elderly.

I then glanced over at the my-way-or-the-highway jerk and thought, “Wipe that smug grin off your mug – you get no brownie points for such a self-centered & inconsiderate act.”

(I also thought, “I hope you choke on a crumb from that muffin you’re scarfing down.” Yes, I can be that nasty.)

I wonder what it’s like going through life believing you are always right? Convinced that your wants and needs take precedence over those of others?

I still regret the fact I didn’t have the guts to get off my butt and turn the volume back up.

photo credit: http://lightshowmedia.com/showcase.html

How to Write

2010-03-13T08:12:00.002-05:00

Write from the heart.

If I did that, you’d all be running scared.

Write from a place of truth.

See above. Ditto.

Write from passion.

If it’s lost – find it. If it’s buried – grab a shovel and start digging.

Write from strength.

Still and always strong, but sometimes tired.

Write from compassion.

I suspect I’m suffering from a surfeit of compassion – if that’s possible. The well is by no means running dry – I just have to direct some of that compassion toward myself.

Write from and with humour.

My sense of humour remains intact – it just doesn’t seem to be emerging in any of my writing or if it is, it’s a struggle.

Write about what you know.

I know I have limits. I know when I’m reaching those limits.

Although I am wise, witty & wonderful – oh, yes, indeed, I am – these w-words seem to have taken a hike lately. I think my plate is a little full.

It’s time to practice some portion control - starting with the main course. Me.

I’ve been down this path before. How and why do I keep ending up in the same damn place?

photo credit: http://www.fusedmagazine.com/2009/07/30/once-upon-a-time/

Darn

2010-03-09T09:34:00.003-05:00

I am struggling with the first link re: the post below.

I could scream.

I will keep trying.

If I don't succeed (and the possibility is huge - I don't know what I'm doing wrong) go to Amazon.com, click on the Kindle link and type in the title of the book.

Far too many minutes later... Success!

But I could still scream. How very frustrating and time-consuming that was.

This Is Not A Plug

2010-03-09T09:08:00.007-05:00

Okay, the above image is of a plug but the post itself isn’t one. My publisher would tear his (their) hair out to know I wasn’t promoting my own work but the truth is, I haven’t done any promoting for years – with the exception of providing a link on this blog.

The purpose of this post is to share my delight (warranted or not) in discovering that my e-book A Limited Partnership is listed on Amazon. I have no idea when it first appeared, but it’s there now!

The cover is courtesy of author and illustrator Patricia Storms. I can’t remember exactly how I found Patricia to do this work but once we met, it was the beginning of our friendship. I told her what I had in mind – no bodice ripping for me! – and she delivered. I love what she did.

If you check out the link, you might note the date of publication is 1996. I have not written a romance novel since. I wrote A Limited Partnership on a dare when informed there was a formula to writing romance. If a formula exists, it’s a challenging one. While I’ve written short story romance for magazines since then, I’ve never felt the urge or inclination to tackle another romance novel. I’ve made money on this book – the royalties have trickled in – but apparently the key to greater financial success in this genre is to keep churning them out – establish name recognition. I’ve done neither. My choice.

But, hey, it’s still a kick to see that book on Amazon.

I wonder how long it will remain up?

Note to Patricia – Check out the link on the publisher’s site for the Contemporary Romance selections – “our” book occupies the #1 spot. I think it’s because of the unique cover!

P.S. Re: Previous Post

2010-03-04T12:16:00.001-05:00

I am home now.

WITH MY DIRTY LAUNDRY.

The laundromat that came highly recommended has been closed for over a year.

I discovered this after wandering around amongst the suits and well-heeled on Yonge Street searching for it while looking like a homeless person with my green garbage bags.

Finally stumbled into a store – arms killing me – and made inquiries. Was told of another laundromat a few blocks away. Driving over there I ended up behind a garbage truck on a street too narrow for passing. Stinky. Pee-yew.

There wasn’t a soul to be seen in this next laundromat and it looked like a great place for a murder. Decrepit. Dingy. The change machine wasn’t working & I’d used up all my change in the parking meter at the previous non-existent laundromat. No bank or corner store to get any change. Waited ten minutes for a human being to appear and then gave up.

Arrived home to a phone call informing me the parts for my washing machine have finally been ordered & a tentative repair day will be next week.

As for the dirty laundry sitting in the hallway? I shall think about it tomorrow.

I still have clean underwear.

Life is good.

Time and Time Again...

2010-03-04T07:45:00.003-05:00

“So busy, time filled or put in, time in which to do things or time by which to have things done, time for home-comings and different little tasks and leavings, time for coffee or for waking up, time passing, time running out, time gone.”

~Joan Barfoot – Dancing in the Dark

Of course I cannot stop time from passing so quickly, from running out.

But I can make myself pause.

I should - and I will.

When I have a moment.

In the meantime, I shall finish my coffee and proceed with my “little tasks” of the day – which includes stuffing two loads worth of dirty laundry into green garbage bags and heading for the laundromat because my friggin’ not yet two year old washing machine conked out last Saturday.

Sitting in a laundromat. Now, there’s a great way to kill time.

I’m taking a book. For sure.

Photo credit: http://www.imagecyte.com/images3d/hourglass.jpg

Private Message/Public Forum

2010-02-28T07:22:00.004-05:00

I do not need rescuing. Thank. You. Very. Much.

If need be, I am quite capable of rescuing myself.

Nor do I need condescension, unsolicited advice, vapid flirtatious gestures, to be taken care of or to be the object of some idiotic knight-in-shining armour fantasy.

Oh, and FYI? Your time schedule does not take precedence over mine.

And do not feel obliged to be there for me because by the time you are there, in all likelihood I will be somewhere else.

So, f**k right off.

My apologies for my language. If I could just vent in person, it would be healthier and far more effective. Alas, this will have to do. I seem incapable of ridding myself of the nice factor.

Push me too far, though and someday it may disappear…

Watch out.

Photo credit: http://www.targotennisberg.com/tarkvara

Branded

2010-02-26T07:56:00.004-05:00

No, I have not been branded a Scarlet Woman. Far from it. Not my thing.

But I have been branded. Literally.

I’m at that age when a woman glances in the mirror with a mixture of fascination and curiosity (and, okay, a hint of dismay) while observing life’s etchings upon her face.

And while I have no intention of pursuing any drastic measures to rid myself of this artwork, neither did I have any intention of contributing to it with my own hand.

But I did.

I burned my face with a curling iron. (Yes, I occasionally use hairstyling paraphernalia although my method of choice is wash and wear.) I’m now sporting a patch of brownish-pinkish skin just below my left cheekbone to complement my rosy red cheeks. Lovely.

And it’s the strangest thing. While I do hope the mark eventually disappears, I’m really not at all perturbed by the thought it might not. I wonder why?

Do I feel that as well as revealing my character through laugh and frown lines I should also display stupid lines?

Or have I finally come to that point in life where I just don’t give a damn as to the natural or self-inflicted wear and tear associated with my face and body?

Perhaps a bit of both. However, I do plan on being more alert and careful when using potential branding instruments. I shudder to think what I might do with hot electric rollers.

Photo credit: www.brandish.com

Room With a View

2010-02-22T09:38:00.004-05:00

“To put it rather bluntly, I am not the type who wants to go back to the land; I am the type who wants to go back to the hotel.”

~ Fran Lebowitz

Oh, yeah. That is so me.

Was reminded of this quotation while despairing over the accumulation of junk in the garage - some of which includes camping equipment belonging to one of my sons.

I am not a fan of bugs & bears nor of being at the mercy of the elements.

I prefer my creature comforts indoors rather than out.

Q&A

2010-02-19T07:27:00.005-05:00

Why do I have trouble coming up with a blog post while others post on a daily or at least a regular basis?

Obvious answer. I don’t possess a niche.

“Niche: a place, employment, status, or activity for which a person or thing is best fitted - finally found her niche - : a specialized market”

I am not creative in terms of art or crafts, do not possess photographic talent, am not particularly good at the anecdotal, refuse to bore people with my daily activities (trust me, they are boring) and if on a spiritual or soulful quest, unable or reluctant to articulate the hows and why of said journey. I don’t tackle political events or world issues and when I do get personal, the post often ends up cryptic and/or incomprehensible. At times I may achieve the status of amusing but not laugh-out-loud funny. I don’t stick to the literary nor do I possess the skill or appreciation to write about the world of art. I love music but my eclectic taste puts me beyond the realm of authoritative critic.

Where does this leave me? Confused.

But I did post today. Perhaps my forté is the niche-less post.

“The niche-less post.” Reminds me of that infamous phrase from an Erica Jong novel. Don’t want to risk an R rating, but trust me, it’s memorable – to those of us of a certain age. ;)

Image credit: www.all-about-forensic-science.com/forensic-Q-and-A.html

Burn, Baby, Burn...

2010-02-15T08:09:00.004-05:00

Have been out of action with a fever. No, not Olympic* fever – although that too is infectious – but my very own personal heat source.

I’d forgotten what it’s like to be downed by a fever – the strange delirious dreams, your perception of familiar objects and rooms distorted, the sense of being distant from your body, time doing wacky things with your mind – all this due to the body’s own mechanism for fighting some invasive virus or bacteria.

Feeling so off-kilter sort of reminds me of the days I once… Hmm, never mind that bit of irrelevant history.

Today I’m at 98.6 – or close enough. The psychedelic glasses are off and it’s back to reality. My own special version.

Please pass the brownies. (Just kidding!)

*At long last, the first Gold medal for Canada as an Olympic host country! It’s been many, many years. Congratulations and bless you, Alexandre Bilodeau.

Enough Already...

2010-02-10T09:29:00.005-05:00

“There will be no crying because the crying has crouched low in the sockets behind her eyes, and hiding there, it transforms itself. This is crying’s best magic, transforming itself into withdrawal and weariness and a low-grade, humming strength.”

~Bonnie Burnard – Suddenly

I wrote a serious tear-jerker of a post to accompany the above quotation, read it over this morning and decided to scrap it. Enough with the boo-hoo poor little old me stuff.

Yeah, I cry, I get weary and I’m strong. The same can be said about most people – if guys would admit to crying.

I’m all for expressing your feelings on your blog, encourage others to do so and have done my fair share of whining. I just don’t feel like it today. I’m in more of a “shit happens, deal with it” mood.

But I must say, writing that scrapped post was cathartic.

On a lighter note, I’ve managed to indulge in some “farting around” since my last post and despite life’s most recent hellish challenge. I will be damned sure to incorporate more of the same in my life. It keeps me sane. Laughter keeps me sane.

Has anyone got any good jokes they’d like to share?

Wise Words?

2010-02-06T16:38:00.004-05:00

I consider this man a literary genius.

So, I’m thinking perhaps I should do a little more farting around and a lot less of taking life so seriously.

It’s worth a shot. ;)

image credit: http://www.timemachinego.com/linkmachinego/

Modern Day Bad Manners

2010-02-04T08:43:00.003-05:00

1. Texting while purportedly carrying on a conversation with someone who is RIGHT THERE with you – live and in person.

Not guilty. Can’t text to save my sorry soul. I’d say I was all thumbs but apparently it’s done with all thumbs.

2. Interrupting a phone conversation to link to a Call Waiting alert.

Guilty – but only if it’s a very important call. (And all calls from my kids are deemed important.)

3. Not responding to an email within a reasonable time frame (which is?) – or never. Exception – a response beyond that time frame with an explanation.

Not guilty - my OCD kicks in and I reply asap. I could name three such guilty people but I won’t. Are you reading this, D? And why do I still promptly respond when these people initiate communication via email? Because pay-back is rude, too?

4. Not averting your eyes when someone is typing in their password(s).

Not guilty - and it irritates the hell out of me when someone is looking over my shoulder. Bugger off. Yes, I do care about my privacy and, no, I do not visit porn sites.

5. Talking very, very loudly on your cell phone in a public place.

Not guilty. To those who do, please, please, keep it quiet. I do not want to hear yet another (boring) one-sided conversation. Truly, no one is interested in what you have to say. Okay, maybe sometimes if it’s really crazy-wild…

6. Talking on the phone while typing at the computer.

Not guilty. I don’t consider the talking/typing to be an indicator of someone’s skill at multi-tasking – it’s just plain rude. Either give me your undivided attention or let’s end the call.

7. Feeling the necessity to stay connected via cell or computer all day, every day – no matter where you are. (This is not actually rude – it’s more an erroneous misconception as to being indispensable to the world.)

Try turning off both machines and loving the one you’re with or enjoying the pleasure of your own company. You may be pleasantly surprised.

Not guilty - of staying continuously connected.
Guilty - of giving my attention to the person(s) I am with or enjoying my own company because by golly, I’m fascinating, funny – a joy to be with. Sometimes. Well, often enough…

It's a Gift...

2010-02-02T07:49:00.002-05:00

Monday morning conversation with youngest son as he leaves for work.

Me: “Don’t forget to call that guy today. I told him you would and if you don’t, it will make me look like a raving lunatic.”

Son: (pauses while untangling his iPod wires, glances over at me and states calmly)
“Mom, you are a raving lunatic.”

My immediate response – denial – is fleeting and dies a natural death. Mea culpa.

Me: “Okay, so, just because I am a raving lunatic doesn’t mean I want to look like one.”

Boys can be brutal.

I shall embrace my lunacy.

And I resist the urge to tell him it’s hereditary and/or catching. Each of my sons is exhibiting the signs. Makes for some delightful and amusing times together.

Ready (?), Set, Go...

2010-01-30T17:48:00.003-05:00

Cautiously testing the waters of the blogging pool because I may be tempting fate or the gods or whatever by returning now. I suspect something (else) is going to happen which shall yank me right back out of the water…

One of the things prompting my return is a conversation I had with a friend last week. He told me I was angry.

“Angry? Sad, frustrated and overwhelmed, yes, but angry? I don’t think so.”

“You’re angry, “ he insisted. “I can hear it in your voice and see it in your eyes.”

And with that revelation, I realized it was time to take back control of my life – or as much of it as I possibly can right now. It’s so easy to lose sight of your own needs when caught up in the needs and lives of others.

On a lighter note – some possible future posts?

Beth the Oblivious gets hit-on at the grocery store, how to forgive your hairdresser for giving you a little Dutch boy hair-cut, why expressing road rage at a four-way stop is not a good idea…

We’ll see what I can do.

P.S. I’ve noted both the absence of or decrease in posting by others in the blogging world. Perhaps it’s not April but January that is the cruelest month??

photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/awfulsara/36602519/

2010-01-04T21:38:00.003-05:00

Ad Infinitum...

2009-12-31T07:54:00.004-05:00

"For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning."
~ T.S. Eliot - "Little Gidding"

Here’s to new vices (oops, I mean voices) and new beginnings – unless, of course you’re quite content with the language and voice you currently possess and then there’s always the possibility that all this talk of endings & new beginnings has your mind running in circles…which have no beginning and no end…which brings to mind the fact that, “…every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.” (Closing Time – Semisonic).

Somewhat convoluted? Yes. Have I gone off on a tangent? Yes, again.

I shall close with a simple and heartfelt -

Happy New Year to You All!

photo credit: http://www.jaapsch.net/puzzles/circleman.htm

Next on the Agenda...

2009-12-27T08:50:00.005-05:00

No, this is not a picture of the dining room table decorated for the Christmas season.

Yes, I am ruthless. In a frenzied fit of “it’s over” I’ve gathered all the decorations and placed them on the table to be packed away.

No, I have not dismantled the tree. Yet. I’m itching to do it, though.

Yes, we had a wonderful Christmas – had the three boys (plus two girlfriends) with me Christmas Eve, Christmas morning and all but one of the boys for Christmas dinner at my sister’s. I love my huge family – what an amazing group of people.

No, the above photo is not another display of Beth’s decorating skills. My reminder post-its are back up – a spread out in-your-face To Do list re: my mother’s affairs (finances, temporary care, nursing home search, etc.). And if you peer closely, there’s a business card for a plumber.

Yes, another mini-disaster struck this repair-prone home. On Christmas morning. With six people staying here, one of the two toilets broke. A crack in the tank and a flood. (“Just pee in the shower, guys – à la Seinfeld!”)

You have to laugh. Well, I do. And smile. In the midst of blessings and good times, reality has a way of making its presence known. Shit happens. (I know, that’s rude & inappropriate language for the season – or any time - but it’s fitting.)

Here’s to 2010. May it bring all good things to you - and me! The only New Year’s resolution I’m making this year is, “Keep smiling – no matter what…”

A sense of humour is a precious commodity. In my case, being a little crazy even at the best of times also helps. ;)

2009-12-21T20:31:00.004-05:00

WISHING YOU ALL
A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS
HAPPY HOLIDAYS
AND JOY IN THE NEW YEAR!

Carry On

2009-12-19T08:39:00.001-05:00

We were in the ER with my Mom again yesterday.

The mouse infestation became worse – beyond my ability to cope. An exterminator was called.

And other stuff.

I’d like to be able to say I can’t do this anymore and have that mean something or change the way things are but both reality and my own words render such a wish meaningless.

Still, there will be reasons to smile and laugh today no matter what. That in itself is a reason to smile.

Ho Ho Ho - Snap!

2009-12-16T08:05:00.007-05:00

Notes left for my son – because some days we’re like ships that pass in the night. (The quality of the images – not so good – click to enlarge.)

And, no, his name is not Houston.

And, yes, we are battling mice. The war is now being waged at home as well as at the cottage. I should write my own version of “Town Mouse – Country Mouse.”

(And, Guy, I’m using poison, too. I added traps to my arsenal because they make for less mouse poop and more immediate visible results.)

He didn’t use rubber gloves (they’re for sissies) but he did deal with the remains. Bless that boy.

My ultimate goal for the season:

“Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…”

P.S. I’m not sure why I’m capable of dealing with dead mice bodies at the cottage but am reluctant to do so here. Perhaps it has something to do with reaching into the dark recesses of the cupboard under the sink and imagining the dead mouse’s friends and family jumping out at me in revenge. Yup, that’s probably it.

Always Thinking...

2009-12-13T20:57:00.004-05:00

…although not always brilliantly.

Thoughts while emptying the dryer:

Why do t-shirts come out of the dryer inside-out when they went in the dryer right-side-out? (Or outside-out?)

And why do we use the expression “inside-out” rather than “outside-in”?

Followed by an attempt to turn these lofty thoughts into a metaphor for life:

Just when life seems to be in perfect alignment, going well & a perfect fit (although perhaps slightly damp), things are suddenly tossed about and it ends up topsy-turvy, upside-down and the fit seems a little off. And then you must grab life (or the t-shirt) and make things right again – turn them right-side-out – as best you can.

This from a woman who once wore a t-shirt inside-out in public which could also be a metaphor for life - my life – but I’m not going there…

For M & M

2009-12-09T06:56:00.014-05:00

If you’re lucky, you have a sister or sisters. If you are very lucky, your sisters are also your friends. And if you’re not blessed with a sister, consider your best friend one. Close enough. I ought to know. My best friend is like a sister to me.

This post is a tribute to the threesome that consists of my sisters and myself. Loving, fiercely loyal and supportive, together we are and always have been a force to be reckoned with. We’ve embarked on yet another journey together – a difficult one. I don’t know how I would cope on this journey without them – and without the love and support of my best friend.

For what it’s worth, I’m the middle sister. It’s a lovely place to be.

Random Glimpses - Past & Present

July 2009. At my nephew’s wedding. Mother of the groom on the right. Who knew the baring of shoulders was the style this summer? Not me. Figures.

August 2009. Two out of three goofing off for the camera. A rare shot. We’re usually all in sync with the goofy looks.

Trip to Jamaica - a time out from being moms. Oh, the stories we could tell about that trip! But we don’t. We keep them amongst ourselves. That’s what sisters do.

Had to put this one in to show our pre-motherhood bodies. Not that our bodies have changed much at all. Really. {{wink wink}} Although I must say, looking at this picture I realize what a boon pregnancy was for my bust size. (Baby brother in the background.)

With our Mom – the woman who raised these bright, beautiful (?!) & sometimes silly girls. It’s now our turn to take care of her – with patience and with love.

A family photo with our Dad. We don’t have too many of these. Each one is precious.

Dining out on big sister’s birthday dressed in our finest. Looks like my sisters cut their own bangs. Mine seem to have disappeared. I either totally butchered them or my mother used a barrette. Hard to tell with the lighting.

Family lore has it that my father described little (!) Beth as, “Built like a brick one…” The expression is actually, “Built like a brick sh*thouse.” Judging from the stance and size of me at such a young age, I can see why. I am 2 ½ years younger than my sweet lady-like (hands folded nicely in her lap) older sister.

“Thank heaven for little girls…they grow up in the most delightful way…”
The “baby” sister.

My sister-friend – who is camera shy.

What an amazing, sometimes sad, sometimes crazy but always wonderful ride we’ve had together!

“More than Santa Claus, your sister knows when you've been bad and good.”
~Linda Sunshine

And they still love you!

Being Me

2009-12-06T08:15:00.003-05:00

Life’s been somewhat off-kilter here the past while. Thus, I’ve been a little off-kilter. Knowing why my behaviour is slightly wacky (more so than usual) goes a long way to preserving my sanity. So does retaining the ability to laugh at myself.

Two examples of my off-kilterdom – and two only. I’ve also managed to retain some pride.

While in a store the other day, I heard a cell phone ringing and my first thought was, “Hey, someone has the same ringtone as mine.”

It was mine.

Finally got around to some Christmas decorating and while setting up the manger/crèche, I actually got mad at Joseph for repeatedly falling over. He was momentarily at risk of being tossed from the scene.

Get a grip, Beth…he’s a figurine, he can’t help it and it’s Joseph!

I figure as long as I’m capable of recognizing the humour in these sort of incidents, I’m still okay. I laughed with the person who’d called me and I apologised to Joseph - with a smile.

And I do have plans (which include alcohol, deep breaths, some chocolate marshmallow Santas and regaining more control of my life) to get back on-kilter. (In-kilter?)

Kilter is a funny word. So is off-kilter. I looked them up. Kilter means “in working order.” Off-kilter means “a bit askew.”

I am a bit askew. That makes me laugh, too.

December Already??

2009-12-02T18:36:00.003-05:00

While making the usual blogging rounds, I’ve noted (with an increasing sense of dismay) that Christmas preparations are well underway elsewhere. My home remains in its same old shabby-chic condition without a whiff of fresh pine scent or a hint of added greenery.

“Well begun is half done,” says Mary Poppins but what if you haven’t even started? A slight panic is setting in.

What has yet to be done around here:

1. Christmas cards

2. Outside Christmas lights

3. Indoor Christmas decorations

4. Christmas tree/decorate Christmas tree

5. Christmas shopping (need ideas first)

6. Shortbread, etc. (the “etc.” may be eliminated this year)

7. Drop off of children’s toys

But, hey, I do have a list!

See above.

If hearth and home are not prepared for Christmas, will Santa still come? I’ve been such a good girl. Really.

Please and Thank You

2009-11-30T07:24:00.004-05:00

"He wished he could somehow let Claire know that this was what love was. The ability to ask for something. The desire to give someone what they asked for."

~ Alice Hoffman – The Story Sisters*

So simple, isn’t it?

Too simple?

That ability + that desire = love.

And sometimes, the asking need not even be spoken aloud.

*a wonderful book

Don't Mention It...

2009-11-27T09:30:00.004-05:00

The other day I was at one of my favourite haunts. (No, not the local bar.) Hadn’t been for awhile and was feeling very chipper and happy to be there, thank you very much.

An acquaintance greeted me with, “How are you?” No accompanying smile.

Me: (smiling anyway) “Great, thanks. How are you?”

Her: “I’m fine but are you really okay?”

Me: (wondering if I had toothpaste on my chin or the mark of the devil on my forehead) “Yeah, I’m really okay. Why?”

Her: “You have dark smudges under your eyes.”

WHAT?? I NEVER HAVE THOSE.

Where’s a mirror, where’s a mirror? Must see for myself. Found one. Yup, a hint of bluish/black under those baby blues. Gosh-darn.

Reassured the acquaintance who was right behind me (such a busy-body) this was nothing that a few good night sleeps wouldn’t cure and turned away. A little self-conscious. A little reluctant to raise my head to greet others. And then I thought, the hell with it. I’m happy to be here. Dark smudges aren’t going to spoil my fun. I feel good.

Moral of the story – unless you are a close friend or family or unless someone is sporting chicken-pox or measles or some other hideous temporary rash, don’t feel obliged to point out they look like hell. It might make them feel like hell – perhaps just for a moment but still…no one needs or wants to hear that kind of news.

And, oh, yeah - never say never.

Happy to report the smudges are gone! ;)

Enough!

2009-11-24T07:33:00.002-05:00

Dear R.C.*

Re: your recent letter questioning Line ### of my t*x ret*rn - your timing is impeccable. As in, good move picking on someone already overwhelmed and drowning in paperwork and phone calls.

Try as I might, I can’t figure out what the hell you’re talking about. I had to call an accountant and I don’t quite understand what he’s talking about either. Apparently, you’ll be hearing from him and then you’ll get in touch with me again and then I’m to call him again…and oh, bloody hell…more telephone tag…

Excuse my language. Back to the issue at hand.

While I may lack accounting smarts, I am cognizant of the fact you are struggling with a huge def*cit and that your request is simply a potential means to reduce it – via me.

I sincerely hope you are also going after the wealthy of this nation – those who know all about t*x shelters and where to hide their $$. I think you’ll have far more success reducing the def*cit via these folks. It might only take a few of those letters to do so.

And if we are unable to resolve this issue to my satisfaction, what will you do? Sue me? Compound interest me to death/poverty on the amount you think (hope) I still might owe?

Bring it on. I was just saying the other day I wish I could vent some of my accumulated stress and frustration at a perfect stranger. You could be it.

Sincerely,
BooksEtc.

P.S. Who am I kidding? We both know I’ll co-operate. I’m just hoping it turns out to be wishful thinking on your part and not a mistake on mine.

(*R.C. = a government agency responsible for raking in $$$ - lots of it. Real name not used because I don’t want them on my *ss for the rest of my life.)

Hiatus?

2009-11-16T07:43:00.001-05:00

I’m wondering. If I go all out and declare an official hiatus from blogging, might such a deliberate move hasten my return? As in, turn things completely around…

Illogical, nonsensical thinking? Well, yes, but life so often plays out in such a fashion. My life, anyway.

As well as still being very much involved with my mother and her issues, other events have taken place this past week – some so sad and heartbreaking, some simply routine & mundane – all requiring my time and attention. My ability to compartmentalize has just about reached its limit. Something has got to give – I’m just hoping that particular something doesn’t end up being me. (I think my kids believe it already has. Tread softly around Mom…she’s losing it…)

When I have some time, I hope to begin checking in with other blogs. This attempt will no doubt be sporadic as will the leaving of comments. But one should blog for pleasure, not from pressure. Correct?

And now, excuse me while I compose yet another cover letter to accompany yet another faxing of my POA re: my mother to yet another utility company. Apparently, requesting that her bills be sent to my address for payment is highly suspicious. While I have yet to figure out how I could possibly rob these companies by simply paying these bills, I’m giving it some serious thought. I’m that pissed off.

Thank You

2009-11-08T09:29:00.002-05:00

Sunday is a day of rest and I’m taking full advantage of it – putting a halt to the recent frantic pace & catching up on some chores that need doing around here.

I may even cook a dinner. I’ve been nibbling from my Mom’s hospital meals – but only stuff she doesn’t want! However, a salad consisting of lettuce & dressing or a small plastic cup of vanilla ice cream does not make for a balanced diet.

On Monday we will resume the pace – more phone calls & meetings regarding future living arrangements. My mother may be discharged from the hospital tomorrow. She’s eager and anxious to leave but I’m not quite sure she’s ready. I’m hoping we will be.

Many thanks to all those who left comments and/or emailed me – very much appreciated.

Regular blogging (posting & leaving comments elsewhere) has not yet resumed from BooksEtc. This is simply a brief update and a sincere thank you.

Absence

2009-11-05T08:23:00.001-05:00

My mother isn’t well.

I know she will be okay. My sisters and I have been and will be spending every moment we can with her. Her hospital stay will supposedly be a brief one. While the doctors attempt to get her immediate physical issues under control, we will begin dealing with matters as to her future care and living arrangements. This is going to be a long process and quite a battle. She is one feisty lady.

Word of advice: If at all possible (and it usually isn’t) stay away from hospitals if you can. We spent yesterday in the various ER areas of a hospital full of sick people wearing masks due to possible H1N1. My mother was finally admitted after eight hours but was still in the ER when we left due to a lack of available beds. (And, no, she does not have H1N1.)

Odds and Sods

2009-11-02T09:19:00.001-05:00

Strange how you scramble to get urgent matters dealt with before leaving for a brief three day get-a-way and upon your return there’s another pile of urgent matters begging for your attention. I place 80% of the blame for this phenomenon on email.

Had a great time – de-mice-pooped the cottage & scooped up two dead mice bodies with a snow shovel. Why a snow shovel and not simply a dustpan? I needed that distance. Why? I don’t know. Bought and placed mice poison in the basement (thank you Guy and The Bodhi Chicklet) and also put Bounce sheets everywhere (thank you Cheryl) as back-up. The cottage smells like a laundromat.

Mice matters aside, my time away was wonderful. Good food, lots of wine, much laughter and great company – including the presence of a man (!) amidst what was basically a girls’ weekend. Brave soul. And, no, he was not my guest or date. For lack of a better word, this eligible male “belonged” to another.

I’ve always been intrigued by a certain aspect of my make-up – and I am referring to the character kind of make-up, not the plaster all over your face sort. I have never felt the slightest inkling of an attraction to a male who is “taken.” (Again, for lack of a better word – one person never owns another.) He could be the most gorgeous of men with a personality to match but from me – not a spark of interest. Nada. Interesting that the world is full of those who do not recognize, acknowledge or respect such boundaries. Love (or lust) is a many splendored & confusing & fascinating subject.

Bleeding radiators is not such a fascinating subject. That was one of the pressing matters I attended to upon my return and ended up with a numb butt waiting 10 minutes for the water to finally flow through one of them.

Next on my agenda – dealing with further legal matters.

I am so glad I went away. Needed that break.

Let the Games Begin...

2009-10-29T20:19:00.003-04:00

anticipatory victory pose (or counting my mice before they're caught)

Heading to the cottage tomorrow morning & looking forward to some time away but also anticipating Beth vs. The Mice – The Sequel.

According to my youngest, who was at the cottage last weekend, those damned critters threw down their version of the gauntlet.

THEY POOPED ON MY PILLOW! This time, they have gone too far.

They may outnumber me but I am smarter. That should count for something.

And, yes, I will be missing Halloween night. So sad – both for the little ones around here and for me. No leftover candy.

The Secret Place

2009-10-27T07:54:00.004-04:00

I’m the sort of person whose mind will drift off – any time and just about anywhere. This can also be referred to as zoning out or going to one’s happy place. It can also occur at inappropriate or inopportune moments.

Recent examples? The other day while brushing my teeth I suddenly realized I’d been doing so for an awfully long time. Where had I gone? “Inside myself.” And at yesterday’s pool class the instructions for an exercise were: “Stretch both arms forward, slowly pull them back behind you and turn palms inward.” I eventually came to and noticed I was the only one in the class with my arms still stretched forward – and that the instructor was watching me with a grin on his face.

Is this habit of mine indicative of some sort of mental aberration? Perhaps. But if so, I don’t mind at all. On occasion, I’m also capable of withdrawing inside myself with some rather negative thoughts. I much prefer the visits to my happy place.

Imagine my delight when I came across this poem last week written by Canadian poet and author Dennis Lee. I am not alone! I’ll go out on a limb here and suggest that Mr. Lee joins me in wishing everyone possessed the ability to visit such a place.

So, if you catch me with a faint smile on my face and a somewhat distant gaze in my eyes, do not disturb. And do not worry. I’m just experiencing a pleasant time out. I’ll be back.

The Secret Place - Dennis Lee

There's a place I go, inside myself,
Where nobody else can be,
And none of my friends can tell it's there -
Nobody knows but me.

It's hard to explain the way it feels
Or even where I go.
It isn't a place in time or space,
But once I'm there, I know.

It's tiny, it's shiny, it can't be seen,
But it's big as the sky at night . . .
I try to explain and it hurts my brain,
But once I'm there, it's right.

There's a place I know inside myself,
And it's neither big nor small,
And whenever I go, it feels as though
I never left at all.

The Latest...Trivia

2009-10-23T07:48:00.001-04:00

I’m about ½ way through Dan Brown’s new book The Lost Symbol – another fast-paced thriller. I’m already exhausted. Is all the action going to take place within a span of 24 hours as it did in The Da Vinci Code? This sort of literary device distracts this particular reader from the story. I’m forever wondering – “Aren’t these people tired?” I certainly couldn’t keep up that pace. As if my services would ever be required on such missions…
Prediction – Washington D.C. will be inundated with tourists who have read the book.
(Don’t care if Brown’s books are panned by literary critics – they’re a fun read.)

Finished writing a short story but have changed the ending three times and I’m still not happy with it. This is what happens when you write for a target audience rather than simply for the sheer pleasure of writing.

Totally ripped a side seam in my very favourite nightie. So sad. Must have had a rough night. A bad dream? Of course, the fact this nightie was about 8 years old and had achieved perfect softness and texture undoubtedly contributed to its demise.

On Wednesday night, as well as discussing this month’s book (The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill) the ladies in my book club brought up the subject of Daylight Savings Time which takes place November 1st. I believe the expression is “fall back” but if I’m going to fall, I’m more likely to fall forward so I get confused as to which way to adjust the clocks. I watch for instructions in the newspaper.

The utmost in trivia (yes, more trivial than the nightie saga). My glutes are killing me. So much so, it’s difficult to even sit. A new exercise was introduced in my pool class with the warning – “Take it easy, you’ll feel this tomorrow.” I did not heed the warning because the exercise was so easy to do and oh, lordy, I am feeling it now. I had no idea the muscles in my butt were so out of shape. The killer? Only further exercise will reduce the pain. Ouch.

And that’s it as to some of the most exciting events in the last three days of my life. Aren’t you glad I shared?

Enjoy the weekend.

Uncensored...

2009-10-20T08:29:00.001-04:00

“So far, everything he had ever said to her was spoken without criticism. There was no reason to ever hold back or change things in mid-sentence at the first sign of judgment coming her way.”

~ Gilaine E. Mitchell - Film Society

If you have someone in your life like this, consider yourself fortunate.

If you don’t, I recommend you look for that someone.

I found such a person.

It’s not that I’ve ever been lacking in a strong sense of self-worth or friends who respect me; it’s just that having this particular person in my world simply makes it an even happier, more enjoyable place to be.

(I also recommend the book.)

Heartfelt & Shameless...

2009-10-15T21:19:00.005-04:00

(& thrilled to do it)…promotion for my talented, witty and beautiful friend - author and illustrator Patricia Storms!

Do check out Patricia’s blog re: the following events:

A book giveaway for her new book “The Pirate and the Penguin.” If you have a child or know of a child (you must know at least one) they would love this delightful story. Although I’m not a child (okay, sometimes maybe I am…) I love it and I own two copies. One will be given away as a Christmas gift and the other is mine to keep. Yes, I am the proud owner of an autographed copy.

Photo credit: Debbie Ohi

And for those of you living in Toronto or nearby, Patricia and her husband will be performing a skit based on the book Sunday, October 18 in Don Mills. Click on this link for details as to time, location, etc. I guarantee the skit will be great – and I oughta know. I’ve spent time with this woman. She possesses a talent for being funny & silly as well as for writing and illustrating.

Possible added bonus – you might just see me there! ;)

And just so you know, I wouldn’t promote anyone’s work if I didn’t love it.

Building Castles...

2009-10-14T09:11:00.004-04:00

Okay, so I don’t take great pictures but can you see the backhoe and the pile of rubble in the one? (Click to enlarge if you can’t get a good view of the rubble.) And then there’s that sad looking hollowed out attic in the other. I wasn’t able to get a picture of the jackhammer in action – didn’t want to get that close.

This demolition work is being done two houses away. My entire house shakes and shudders while it’s going on. The wretched LOUD noise and thumping ka-booms start at approximately 7:00 a.m. I can hear & feel them now.

This is what I’ve been listening to for the past week and a half while writing/working at my computer. I amaze myself with my powers of concentration or I’m simply writing dribble and will come to that realization when I read over the hard copy.

Aside from the fact this is a pain in the ass (and ears) to live with, it’s also kind of sad. Well, it’s sad to a sappy-sentimental someone such as I. Yet another tear-down in the neighbourhood. Another charming home bites the dust (literally) to make way for a mini-mansion. Dear lord, some of these newly built homes actually have little turrets! For what? To watch for the approach of enemy forces?

Some have itty-bitty porches off the second floor master bedroom. Aesthetically pleasing? Not to me. And I have never seen a single soul on one of these porches. Can’t imagine why the owners wouldn’t want to watch the local traffic or take in a road hockey game while sipping on some wine. How romantic would that be?

Yes, the character and appearance of my neighbourhood are changing. Of course, so are mine. But at least I’m not sporting turrets. Yet.

Honest Scrap

2009-10-11T17:29:00.004-04:00

During my absence a week or so ago, the lovely apriliniowa of The Mezzanine tagged me with the Honest Scrap Award and while I don’t do memes anymore, I made an exception in this case. It came at a good time – my brain was too fuzzy to come up with any original blog post on my own and it gave me something to do.

Thank you, April.

The Honest Scrap Guidelines 
1) Say thanks to the presenter of the award (Done!) 
2) Share 10 Honest Things about yourself.
3) Present this award to 7 others whose blogs you find brilliant in content and/or design or those who have encouraged you and then inform them of such, of course. 

My Scraps

1. I own very few pieces of jewelry and rarely wear any of them. The one piece I do occasionally wear is a silver locket.

2. I don’t like eating crusts and never made my kids eat theirs. Whenever I leave them on the plate (which is most of the time) I think of and miss my dog.

3. At the very first formal dance I ever attended (long dress, high heels, etc.) I tripped and fell flat on my face. Worse yet, at the time I was graciously making my way toward a guy I had a crush on. (No, not my date for the evening.) In my defense, an electrical cord had been haphazardly left on the dance floor. I still cringe when I remember this mishap.

4. I am unable to wear make-up due to my sensitive skin. What the world sees is the real me.

5. I am by no means a prude but if you tell an off-colour joke in my presence, chances are it will go right over my head. Having to explain these sort of jokes kind of takes the humour out of them. But we can laugh at me instead.

6. Old news with this one – I swear & curse and have no intention of trying to stop.

7. I dress for comfort (i.e. like a slob) at home but always change when going out in public.

8. If you hurt my feelings, I will not let you know. (With a few exceptions.)

9. Unlike April, who noted a vice on her list, I do not possess a single one. And since I am to be honest with this meme, I admit that the previous sentence is a lie. But I am not listing any of my vices. Use your imagination.

10. Being honest is not always the best policy. I believe that white lies make the world a kinder, gentler place.

I must now tag 7 other people. This is where my anti-meme bias kicks in. I just can’t do it. I cannot choose. All the blogs I read are deserving of such an award. I wouldn’t read them otherwise.

Anyone who would like to take a crack at being honest, consider yourself tagged and go for it.

Thanksgiving/L’Action de Grâces

2009-10-09T19:49:00.003-04:00

To all my fellow Canucks – enjoy the Thanksgiving weekend.

To all my American friends – yours is coming soon!

And to all those who don’t celebrate Thanksgiving – you may have saved the life of a turkey.

I’m the hostess-with-the-mostess for this year’s family Thanksgiving dinner taking place Saturday night. Think of me as I do battle with the big bird. I’m not fond of handling those giblets/innards.

Oh, never mind…it’s not all about me.

It’s about being thankful for all the blessings in your life.

And I am.

Convoluted But I Think There's a Point...

2009-10-07T10:10:00.002-04:00

“It was a recognition of the two sides of myself, the one who would always cling sentimentally or wholesomely – however you happen to view it – to family, place, roots, security; the other which would as lief hop a midnight train…and which half-resented all the things that held it back. It was a split I was never going to close entirely. But who does? We opt for the one that means the most, or we live with both. Neither decision is quite satisfactory, but we muddle through with it. It’s never making the decision at all, or pretending that the need doesn’t exist, that destroys you.”
B.H. Deal - The Reason for Roses

I gave an affirmative, emphatic nod of my head when I read the above paragraph in my mid-twenties. But I’m now at a point in my life where I know I am never going to hop that midnight train. However, from this vantage point I can also look back and know I made the right decision when I chose family, roots and place. The urge to take a different, more adventuresome path – to go with that other Beth – no longer haunts me.

Do I have any regrets? Of course I do. But I don’t subscribe to the belief that we should strive to eliminate regret from our lives. Dwell on them, no. But to acknowledge regrets is to learn - to understand the who you have become and the why. Regrets = hard-earned knowledge.

My biggest regret is that I stayed in one place far too long on that path I chose - was blinded by a need/desire for comfort and security. I missed a train (an opportunity) that was calling my name years ago. And yet, that same regret produced my three precious children. So you see? Not all choices that lead to regret need be seen in a negative light.

The adventures I experience and the paths I travel now manifest themselves in the changes that have come about in my life. At times I may grow weary of dealing with each change and its aftermath but how I choose to deal with them yet again shapes my life and who I am. And I am a much happier person now. Another regret – another positive outcome.

Although I have never literally hopped a midnight train in my life, I am now – figuratively speaking – travelling on one. Destination unknown. But I am both the conductor and the engineer. I welcome suggestions as to pleasant stops along the way but telling me where I should go, how to live, what language to speak or how to feel will never be welcome or accepted on this journey. It is mine.

Perhaps I have now been given the opportunity to recognize that other side of myself? If so, I will still and always “cling sentimentally and wholesomely” to family, to those I love – I will never leave them behind.