Random thought on old ladies pushing shopping carts...

Why do old ladies in malls always seem to be pushing shopping carts full of toilet paper and kleenex? If Canada were invaded tomorow by alien forces, personnally I would sooner know that I had food and medecine, what's the obsession with TP?

Little chanllenges

The roads have been worse than they were today but they were still pretty messy. I must have beet the plow trucks to the highway because the passing lane was snow packed and dangerous to use. I was, however, fortunate enough to be able to go almost the 110km/h speed limit for most of the trip there.

By the time I made it the hundred-or-so-kilometre-commute to College, it seemed the storm was essentially over but my fellow classmates informed me that class was done for the day.

I am not going to lie: I wish I had known this key piece of information before I had set out.  I just braved crappy roads for nothing. My time could have been used much more effectively, had I just stayed home.

Could have been but would it have been? Hard to say, my efforts can often be inconsistent.

Battling the Procrastination Demon seems to be my life's work.

It's as though I would prefer to face failure due to lack of effort than failure due to... well due to just not being good enough. Does that make any sense?

Ridiculous really. You could almost say I fear success as opposed to failure, as if success would challenge my whole self image, would puff itself up in condescention and inform me that I am not who I thought I was. 

The trip back home went much slower than the one to school. As I soon realized, the storm was most definitely not over. My visibility was minimized by the ginormous transport stirring up and spitting snow back at me. The white-beige stuff smeared my windshield with blurry moisture and forced me to sit forward in that up-tight way that short women often drive. I rarely cracked 100 km/h.

Once back in my hometown, I headed strait for the bookstore and purchased the most recent issue of Canadian Writer's Market and sat with a coffee to compose this blog so the day has not been a total loss.

Here's to more days with less loss more confidence to persevere.

Blogging every single day has not exactly worked out for me...Alright so maybe I didn't exactly make it work out; however, in this, as in all experiences, there is something to learn.

What have I learned?
1) Setting good routines takes commitment
2) I am the maker of my own destiny
3) Guilt will get me nowhere
4) I should really blog about all the great stuff I think of in the middle of the night cuz that would be far more interesting than some of the deep and serious stuff I cover here.
...to name just a few.

Some of my difficulty in meeting the daily deadline has to do with the question of what is too personal to write about in my blog? Let's take into account the blog is about some of the most personal struggles in my life. I want to be honest and maybe a little raw but there is such a thing as too much information. Facing possible---no probable---disapproval is as difficult for me as it might be for the next person. To me some of that stuff that is just too personal to write about, that raw experience, would actually be some of the most interesting and beneficial for others to read, but it would also be some of the most embearassing for others to know.

In this process of narrowing a topic I am learning something too, something about respecting limits...though I am not sure exactly what yet because I am, you guessed it: still learning.

Be the Change
you want to see
in the world.
Ghandi (I think)

why selling a bunk bed to buy a new set of bunk beds made sense...kinda

A few months ago I sold the bunk bed my younger 2 kids had in the room they share. By that time only my boy was using his bunk because the girl had long since moved out of hers in favor of her own bed, saying that his constant jostling kept her up at night.

I had been holding onto the bunk bed thinking if we had a sleepover the extra bunk would come in handy. The irony is that because we live in an apartment that big black framed bunk bed made the room feel so crowded and blocked so much light,that it felt like there wasn't enough room for anyone extra. So: no sleepovers.

(Why was I keeping the bunk bed again?!)

That said my boy still needed a bed so naturally I went to Walmart looking for a simple bed and after pricing around found myself purchasing another set of bunk beds. Yes, bunk beds. These ones are better than the old ones though because they come apart. That is to say that they can be used as two separate beds where the other bunk beds were one huge solid metal frame.

In classic fashion, it took me probably a week to get around to putting the boy's bed completely together. All leftover parts were carefully stashed and stored in the kids closet for the next day when I would take apart the girl's bed and put together the new one for her. The room would look so much better with matching shaker style beds, I reasoned. The next day, I hit a road block, when I realized that my boyfriend at the time had put her bed together. He had made certain it was sturdy for her and to do that, he had used tools...

I have a drill with 2 bits and a hammer and while these are in fact considered to be tools they are not the right tools for the job of dismantling the old bed. In the meantime the boyfriend became an ex and I had to replace other things in the house as a result, plus life got busy and between kids and school and surviving I kind of forgot why I never tackled the bed issue, until the other day.

This being Christmas vacation I now had the time to tackle the bed issue. I had stripped and removed the mattress and that's where my renewed vigor for home improvement stopped. Christmas had past, I never got any tools.

My mission today is to purchase a ratchet set, take one bed apart and put the new bed together...I'll let you know how it goes.

Old Friends

The tree and the garland are twinkling with white lights. The dishes are basically done (there aren't many left anyway). There are a couple of presents to wrap. The kids and the cat are chilling out in their respective spots.

I am waiting for an old friend to arrive who is home for the holidays, thinking how so much has changed in the past year and a half since I last saw her. I doubt we will get the chance to catch up on even half of it but it will be nice to see her and her little ones.

How many close friends do we really have in life? The kind of friends that pass in and out of your life almost imperceptibly, that know you and your habits and quirks and tho they must judge, they really don't allow changes to affect the long haul of the relationship. These friends can tease you about stuff you had forgotten about and remind you of where you once were. Friends that are like adopted family fully accepting and acceptable are a rare and special breed.

Tis the season to appreciate these nomadic members of our extended family, to catch up, and check in then send them packen' back to their regular lives as we get back to our own, refreshed with renewed understanding and acceptance of ourselves.

I can't wait to see my friend and play with her kids, dish a little bit about others we once knew, and give her a big hug but if I don't go have a shower and brush my teeth she may not have a full appreciation of the visit...but she'll have a little something extra to tease me about.

I am off to the tubby1

Merry Christmas!

Last night, despite:

1. the free beer from my favoritest boss ever,
2. the stranger-I-kinda-know who stopped to chat in the middle of the night when I was just about to cry,
   
3. the brief moment I got with someone for whom I care deeply,
   
4. the multitude of Facebook exclamations to have a "Merry Christmas,"
   
5. the card and heart-felt hug I got from a colleague,
6. the snow ball formed with old affection intended for me that missed,
   
7. the unseasonably awesome weather last night,
8. my beautiful snowflake tree,
   
9. excitement evident on the kids faces that overflowed in every stammered word,
   
10. the stranger who carried my Budweiser all of the way to the cash through the whole line up of 20 people that snaked through the liquor store all the way into the walk-in cooler,
    
11. the hot landlord that left a party to unlock my apartment door because I had locked myself out,
12. the knowledge of all the great and beautiful things my kids and I would be receiving on the following day, and
    
13. my car shovelled out by a kindly neighbour. The very same neighbour who also makes sure my garbage-can makes it to the curb whenever I forget it, all the year through.
    

My heart was lonely and sorry for itself and half blind to all of these beautiful gestures and experiences.

Once my kids arrived rosy cheeked, dressed in new pj's from my ex husbands mother (zzz's a tradition she started with her own 3 kids 35 years ago of giving the kids new pj's on Christmas Eve so that they were sure to be wearing something decent for pictures the next day) and the pile of gifts were unwrapped and enjoyed, I started baking. The kindly shovelling neighbour is a single man who lives alone who probably won't get anything home baked this Christmas so I thought I would fill a festive tin for him and address a card to him as well, thanking him for his efforts.

That's when I started to feel It: The magic of the season.

Around the time that I set the final mixing bowl in the draintray, shiny and clean, it occurred to me that I would write about the bits of magic I've witnessed just in the past day in this blog. Which lead me to understand that the blogs ahead of me and the blogs already posted are like roadsigns on my quest for self improvement. Haha hopefully most of them leed me in the right direction...

It has been a Merry Christmas!...and we haven't even had dinner at the farm yet!