SUNDAY, SUNDAY

I think I owe you an apology blog readers.  I didn't mean to drunk blog like that and then not post again for a whole day.  I don't want you to feel used, that I could just late night blog like that and then say nothing for a whole day.  I promise it won't happen again.  I think we have something really special here and I don't want to jeopardize that.  I hope you can forgive me.

Now that I've put that out there, lets move on to today's subject, which I think I have landed on parents.  Specifically the relationship between parents and adult children.   I am, I have been told, very lucky to have such a close relationship with my parents, and I agree, for the most part.  What I struggle with from time to time is the fine line there is between being friends with your parents and still being their child, and in my case, their only child.  Everyone thinks that only children are spoiled and coddled, but I would beg to differ.  When you have a sibling, there's someone else to try to blame for all the shit you do.  Someone to act in cahoots with.  Someone else who might get worse grades, or get in more trouble then you.  There's the flip side, that sibling could be a brilliant genius or maybe they were the first to create grandchildren.  In any case, the point I'm trying to make is there is someone else for parents to focus on.  When you're an only child, the spot light is on you full time.  There's no blaming the dog for drinking the beer when they were out, if you're failing geography, there's no chance that the cat is going to be failing something else worse or getting suspended for fighting.  There is also no one else there who's getting married and having kids.  Its ALL on you.  Trust me, it's a lot of pressure.

As I said, I am lucky enough to have a very good relationship with my parents, but sometimes that line of friendship crosses into parenting.  I know they only want what is best for me and I suppose I have to learn there are somethings I can't share with them unless I want their parent opinion.  My most recent experience with this has been, as usual, around my love life.  I try not to talk to much to them about what is happening in that department because it tends to launch a question period that would make the Gestapo look like school girls.   Unfortunately the sprung a surprise visit on me after I had already had plans to go on a date.  I didn't want to lie so I told them the truth.  When things didn't work out because the guy was an idiot (note to male readers, when we ask you a question and you answer our boobs, you're not being subtle).  Apparently, not being attracted to someone, finding them obnoxious and boring and also catching them in a couple lies on the first date is not reason enough to decide you don't want to see them again.  This, coupled with discussion of marriage and love immediately after the first date, was enough for me to decide this guy wasn't worth my time.  My parents however, felt I was being hasty and too judgemental and it resulted in a full on lecture about my life choices and why I never think anyone is good enough.  It was compounded by the fact that my mom, who did not meet this character and didn't have to deal with the boob talking egomaniac, had told her sisters about our date as though we were getting engaged!  It was one date!  So on top of my parents criticism of my actions, I was also subjected to the opinions of my aunts.  Even now they still like to maintain that I was out of line for breaking it off.

These are the things I find frustrating.  They still feel that I am in need of their direction when it comes to my life decisions.  Admittedly there are times when I do want their opinions, but in this instance, I know I made the right decision and I didn't need the 5th degree.

So in the end, I guess the only solution is to keep things on the down low until I am certain it is worth bringing up.  Actually I think the only solution is to just grin and bear it.

Cheers,

DRUNKEN BLOG

This is one of those rare occasions where I am drunk and blogging, which is not to say that I am rarely drunk nor am I rarely blogging.  It's just the combination of those two things that rarely comes together,  and yet here I find myself like a sailor in a port, drunken to the point of blindness.

Why blog, one might ask, and to that I would say why not?   For is there a better time then when drunk to express the deepest truths of what one thinks?  As a sure and honest to god truth to that I  can tell you  that I have just come from the retirement party (refer to earlier blogs if you are unfamiliar with this particular swan song) where an alcoholic co-worker was hitting, quite aggressively on, the mother of the retiree.  It was, to say the least, gruesome.  The last time I saw him, he wasn't even making full sentences.  Mind you, if you could see how I am depending on the spell check feature of my Mac right now, I'm not much better.

Isn't it funny how alcohol affects our actions.  How once civilized people will turn into horny teenagers if given the right amount of booze.  Tonight I saw things I wish I could burn from my mind, but unfortunately the are permanently embedded there.

On the plus side, there were lots of people there and everyone was having a drunken good time.  And for that alone I am happy.  Now if only I could find a home for the half a slab cake in my fridge and the  3lbs of uneaten cheese I've brought home, my day would be complete!

Cheers,

THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR WALKING

Today’s theme is Financial Friday, largely because I don’t have a date tonight (thank you very much Ward), but don’t despair.  I will not be sitting at home alone watching reruns of Friends while eating chips and dip with the cat (bet no one is surprised that I have a cat).  Tonight is the retirement party that I have been planning for weeks.  FYI, for those keeping score, US postal service & Canada post 1 and me 0, as in 0 gift to give because the sculpture has still not arrived and may never.

This morning my boss told me that if I had anything that needed to be done for the party to just go and do it.  I did have a couple of things to do before tonight, but I also needed new shoes for the party.  I should clarify; when I say I “needed” new shoes for the party, I mean in the way that I some one says I need a chocolate bar or I need a paper weight.  No one ever really needs those things, especially the paper weight.  What the hell is with paper weights anyway?  Where are you working that there is such a breeze that you require a heavy object to hold the paper down on your desk?  Back to the shoes; in no way am I walking around barefoot with or with toes protruding from my boots.  Nevertheless, there’s a party tonight, and I “needed” new shoes. 

Since my boss pointed out that anything I needed to do for the party, I could do during work time, I figured the shoe shopping fell into that category.  I went to the shoe store and, much to my dismay, they had no party shoes.  Everything was all fall and wintery with boots galore.  Now I’m an equal opportunist and I wasn’t about to turn my nose up at boots, however I have a history of something I like to call “fat calve syndrome” or FCS for short.  Many of us suffer from FCS.  It’s a cruel disorder which is debilitating in this age of tall fashion boots.  When I walked in the door I noticed some lovely boots called “eco” boots made entirely of recycled material.  My friends, these boots were a thing of beauty, you might even say booty.  You probably wouldn’t because that word has a totally different meaning depending on if you’re a pirate or Beyonce.  I picked them up, testing the waters a bit.  They were magnificent.  But I walked away feeling in my heart that FCS would yet again be the crux of my boot desire.  Then I found another pair of boots, not nearly as pretty, but that seemed like they might be stretchier for the calves.  I got them on, I did them up!!  They didn’t make my calves look like they were wrestling to break free of the boots!  But they were hideous.  So I went back to the beautiful eco boots, so pretty and good for the environment.  I decided to try one on.  I put one tentative right foot into the boot, held my breath and prepared to zip.  By the crikey!!!  They did up.  And the even left room for skinny jeans to be tucked in!  Tucked in people, this is a big day.  Before I got ahead of myself I remember I have two feed and the lefty is bigger then the righty.  I stopped jumping up and down, which seemed to put the  the shoe store staff at ease and saddled up for round two with the left foot.  OH MY GOD!! It fit too.  I went to the mirror, pants rolled up like a hillbilly at a fishing derby. They were glorious.  I could even picture wearing a skirt with these boots, in public. 

Now comes the lesson in finance.  In an unseen twist of cruel fate, I looked at the price tag.  It read: $339.00.  My heart sank.  I sat on the shoe bench head in hand, debating the merits of forking out that kind of cash.  On one hand they were gorgeous and they were environmentally friendly so it would be like doing my civic duty to buy them.  On the other hand, I have long fought the battle of the credit card and am trying to pay down some debt so I can afford to move in the spring.  I sat their, holding one boot in each hand, weighing the options while the staff looked on.  In the end, I did the right thing and walked away.  When I realized I was barefoot, I went back for the shoes I came in wearing, but somehow they seemed dirty and wrong now.

In the end, I made the right fiscal decision.  I bolstered my will power, looked those boots in the face and said “you don’t own me!” actually I think I said “you had me at hello” but I left anyway.  Do I feel better for it?  A stronger woman with slightly less debt?  Honestly?  I'm debating about what I could sell in order to afford those boots and I'm not talking baseball cards if you know what I mean...

But wait!  In the back of my mind a slow awakening his taking place.  Four days ago my mom asked me what I wanted for my upcoming birthday.  Four days ago there was nothing I wanted, but now….

So today's lesson is don't go into shoe stores unless its almost your birthday. 

Cheers,

9 PIES

Upstairs on my kitchen counter and in my freezer lay 9 freshly baked pumpkin pies for charity.  This is the reason for my late blog and total lack of ability to come up with something interesting and/or original to discuss.   So I will share the dream I had last night as a way to fill up space on today's blog.

The depravity of junk from the clean eating diet crept into my subconscious last night.  Yesterday there were cupcakes at work and I battled with my will power and won, but the true cost of this war was later reflected in my dreams.  I literally wept over a slice of red velvet cake in my sleep.  I was sobbing at a table full of people who looked mortified, to say the least.  The dream was so vivid I remember the feeling of total and utter grief over not having the chance to sample a slice of the that delicious cake.  I am quite certain that were I being recorded my distress over the imaginary cake would have been audible.

Hey look, a food theme has formed...

I have developed my own personal conspiracy theory on the whole gluten allergy epidemic.  Man has been eating gluten for hundreds, make that thousands of years, but isn't it strange how only in recent history gluten has turned on us. Gluten has become the enemy.  My theory is this:  the gluten epidemic seems to have made great strides in the last...... What the hell am I typing??  A conspiracy theory about gluten???  This is what my day has come to.

I could tell you about the dream I had 2 nights ago where the neighbour I am feuding with snuck into my garage while I was talking to another neighbour and tried to make off with my bbq and some lawn furniture until I busted him running down the street and started dropping the mother f'er like I was a sailor.   But I feel that my heart is just not into it and I don't want to give my readers a half assed blog.  I never want my readers to feel cheated in any way.

So I'll leave you with this: there is an old adage that says "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"  I think for me tonight, and as a rule in general it should read "If you can't say anything, don't say anything at all."  Yeah, it works on all kinds of levels, is your mind blown yet?  No?  Alright well maybe I'll see about lighting something on fire tomorrow in hopes of having something more exciting to blog about.

Cheers,
(I think this is the one I'm sticking with)

Oh and one other thing, I'd like to state for the record that no one should be shocked to hear that Jack Osbourne, or one of his colleagues from the TV show Haunted Highway got eaten or mauled by a wild animal.  In fact, I'm pretty much predicting right now that it will happen.

PARTY PLANNING 101

It's Wednesday and I am in full on crisis  mode.  4 weeks ago I returned to work from a weeks vacation to find out that my manager had announced he was retiring at the end of the month.  This launched a chaotic chain of events and one mis calculation in spending resulting in one maxed out credit card.   It all started when one of my co-workers volunteered to organize a party and I innocently asked where he was planning to have the party.  Naturally this made me a founding member of the retirement party committee and so I took on the role of doing everything.  Several months ago I attended a party for another co-worker where the gift was a glass statue.  It was a really touching tribute to a long career and I thought it would be very appropriate as a gift to our retiree.  This has been the bain of my existence for the last 3 weeks.  Initially, due to an error on the sellers website, the first statue that came was the incorrect statue.  After several e-mails of explanation the seller agreed to let me ship back the incorrect statue in exchange for the correct one.  I should mention that this product was coming from the west coast of the US and I am in an eastern part of Canada.  So I shipped back the first statue, thinking there was plenty of time for the new statue to make its way to us.  Enter the courier company.  Now remember, I have sent the first statue off with our office courier and assumed that everything was okay.  Oh was I wrong.  4 days later I checked the status of the shipment only to find that it was sitting somewhere in a port awaiting paperwork for the Canada Border Agency before it could be returned to the States.   After 3 hours of phone calls between the CBA & the courier I finally had things sorted, or so I thought.  Imagine my surprise when I came into work the next day to find a very familiar looking box sitting on a co-workers desk.  Yes, the courier, who'd I spoken to several times a day earlier, had shipped the bloody thing back.  Now I'm no expert in ground transport, but somewhere, in one of those many conversations, shouldn't somebody have picked up on the fact the package was on its way back to me??  Now I have the statue back and I know what forms I have to send and I've been assured by the seller that the correct statue has been shipped to me so naturally I sent the package on its merry little way back to California, AGAIN.   Now to the other statue, the correct statue. While the incorrect statue was available and shipped immediately, the correct statue was not ready and had to be made.  Due to high temperatures in California the production was delayed which of course delayed the shipping, but I was assured it was en route last Thursday.  Given that the first statue shipped on a Tuesday and arrived that Thursday, I was expecting it yesterday, or maybe today at the latest.  Guess what didn't come in the mail today???  The party is two days away and we have no gift to give, perfect!  I asked the seller (who has been brilliant in all this chaos) to see if she could find out from the shipper where the package was to which I got a reply from the shipper, and creator of these artworks, that some of his new creations include colour! Well shut my mouth and call me Cocoa!  Colour! That surely solves all my problems! %&#$*!!!!!  There's nothing I can do now, but cross my fingers and pray to the courier gods that this thing gets here, and in one piece, by Friday.

I should also point out that the co-worker who originally volunteered to organize this party and then handed it off to me when he realized he was an idiot who couldn't plan a snow ball fight in the arctic, will no doubt take 100% of the credit for the party.

And that, my blog followers, is why you never ask a question about a retirement party that is being planned.  If you do, you could find yourself sucked into planning of the entire event.  Just keep your eyes down and your mouth shut!


Cheers!

WASTED MINI-PUTT COUPONS

Today's theme is going to be a lesson in manners.  Some of you may recall my post from last Friday, entitled 'Friday Night Date Night.'  In that post I alluded to a date that I had gone on.   I also choose not to discuss the details of that date in the event that we married and had children and then said children came across my blog and I would then have to explain why I said their father was kind of boring and not that much fun... As luck would have it, he is not going to be the father to my future children so I have cart blanche to discuss the events of our date at great length should I choose.  I don't, however choose to go into great detail because my moral compass points me to the high road, which incidentally is in the complete opposite direction of crazy bitch town.

Side bar, have you noticed how often I use the word incidentally?  It's almost mind numbing...

What I will say about this gentlemen is that he needs a lesson in etiquette and he needs to grow a set.  Lets call him Ward for the the blog sake, no one is named Ward anymore so I think that's safe.  So Ward and I met on a an on-line dating site.  For a long time I grappled with on-line dating being something that only nerds and shut ins did, and felt it was really not a legitimate way to meet someone worthwhile.  However, now that I am in my 30's, live in a small town that I am not from, and work a regular job, I realize that it is the new normal in social interaction and dating.  In fact I know several people who have met wonderful people on these sites which have led to long term relationships and even a couple of marriages.  So for anyone who is reading this and is on-line dating, but feeling ashamed or like a creepy looser, don't.  You are totally normal and not alone.  

Where was I?  Oh yes, Ward,  so Ward and I met on-line, we chatted back and forth, we texted and then we decided to meet.  All very normal.  The first 2 dates went well enough.  I'm not talking mind blowing conversation and a laugh a minute, but I didn't want to stab him in the eye and he didn't cry (that's another blog), so I called it a success and thought it was worth going out on a few dates, even if it was just for something to do.  Date #3 was where things really started to take a turn for the worse.  I could tell Ward was not being totally forthright with me and all he talked about was work, no matter how hard I tried to steer the conversation to something else.  Also he never made eye contact when he talked.  We planned a date #4 anyway and we went to the glow in the dark mini-putt.  It is now that I should mention that I had recently acquired some free passes to the mini-putt which I won in a charity raffle.  It was coincidence, but very good timing.   We met at the mini-putt facility on Friday night and very early into mini-putt I knew we were in trouble.  You see to me, glow in the dark mini-putt should be full of whimsy and laughs.  A chance to let your hair down and leave your work-a-day woes behind, but again Ward kept yammering on about work.  And I tried to engage him, tried to get him to laugh or loosen up or just make eye contact for god's sake!  Nothing.  I got nothing.  I'd joke about my golf skills or lack there of, talk about something fun I'd done during the day and nothing...  By the time we got to dinner we sat staring at our menus and not speaking.  It was painful to say the least, but then Ward surprised me by asking if I wanted to go catch a movie before I headed home.  I thought "oh my god this thing has a pulse" and said sure.  Unfortunately we had managed to miss the beginning of every movie at the octo-plex by about 10 minutes, so I left with the intention of seeing him again for a movie in a couple of days.  

This is where the manners, etiquette and growing a pair come in, incase you were wondering.  After Saturday we entered radio silence.  I messaged him twice and got no response which I believe I am to take as the end of the relationship or whatever it was.  Now I realize that after 4 mediocre dates, he doesn't owe me a sit down dinner and break-up, but at the very least he could have responded to my texts and said "it was nice to have met you, but I don't think this is what I'm looking for."  That would have been the decent and human thing to do.  But instead Ward took the cowards way out and buried his head in the sand like and ostrich and hoped I'd go away.  I was a little miffed this morning and I won't lie, I nearly did send a text message saying "thanks for nothing."  Cooler heads prevailed after I had some caffein and some words of advice from a friend, "let it go." and I deleted Ward from my contacts, with head held high and a positive outlook that there will be someone else.

The moral of this story is this: Don't waste your mini-putt coupons if you're not 100% certain he/she is worth it.  You'll only regret the missed opportunity to have fun with someone else at mini-putt.  That doesn't seem like it should be the moral.  Ok here's the real moral:  If you decide you're not into it, be upfront with the person.  We're all adults and I'd rather know the truth then waste my time, or in this case, mini-putt coupons.  Yes, that's better, that's the moral.

New side bar, I'm also going to try out some sign offs.  I'm going to try out a few until I find the one that feels right so bare with me.  Hmm.. this sounds like my dating style also....

Ciao for now

(yep I hate that one too)

MONDAY, MONDAY

Whoa, what the what? Things got real up in this joint yesterday.  Okay enough of all that "who am I, what does the universe mean to me" stuff. Monday's arbitrary theme, that I may not stick to permanently, shall be health and exercise.

So in the sprit of getting healthy and loosing weight in an attempt to lure in a mate, I started something called the Eat Clean Diet.  Essentially it means removing the unnecessary crap from your diet, no sugar, no preservatives, no gluten, lower sodium.   I personally think the diet should be called The Hard Diet, but that's just me.  Ok, to be fair, I'm not finding it to be that hard.  The thing I'm struggling with the most is the no gluten because I love bread and pasta and pastry and everything gluten. But I've made my peace with it and have been doing very well so far, barring one misfortunate incident involving a medium cheese pizza.  I credit my decision to try this diet to a friend, who started it a week before me and has lost almost 10lbs. in a little less then 2 weeks.  Quite an inspiration, and I have to admit, that in the week that I've been doing this I am feeling better, more energetic and just generally less gross.  I have also noticed that my pants are getting quite loose.  So tonight when I went to the gym, I went straight to the scale to see my progress.  Long have the scale and I not seen eye to eye, which is ironic considering that it is my zodiac sign.  Last winter I nearly dragged my bathroom scale out to the road in a fit of rage, so I could run over it multiple times.  I am not proud to admit that there was very nearly a repeat performance of that full on temper-tantrum in the women's change room at Access Fitness.  The "scale" if it can even call itself that, claims that I have lost 3oz! 3oz!  Can you imagine my shock and horror.  I thought it was a joke, that someone was going to pop out from behind the wall and yell "smile you're on candid camera", which would have been incredibly inappropriate given that I was in a women's change room, but would have at least made me feel like my efforts were not in vane.  People I have even been packing a lunch for the last week!  I never make lunch!  Before I tried to wrestle the scale out into the parking lot so I could show it who's boss, I managed to see some reason.   This morning I was able to pull my jeans on without having to undo them, all my pants are fitting more loosely.  I am PMSing, it is Monday and I did eat an entire medium cheese pizza yesterday. There's a good chance I'm retaining water like a beluga whale in salt water.  Probably in a day or two there will be a different result.  There damned well better be a different result or I swear to god I will tie that mother f-ing scale to the back of my truck and drag it through the streets of town screaming like a banshee.

That sums up health for the week.  Now for the exercise segment of the blog.  If you find your gym routine is getting boring and you need to add a little kick to your work out, I suggest jumping on a treadmill and giving the slow motion run a try.  Just set the treadmill to the lowest setting and then strut your stuff 6 million dollar man style.  Make sure to exaggerate your arm and leg movements, and feel free to try some heavy breathing as though you're really working up a sweat.  I guarantee you'll get a reaction from your fellow gym-ees and there's a really good chance you might even find Youtube fame.  Who doesn't want that?