Sketchy
Sketchy:
1) someone or something that just isn’t right.
2) the feeling you get the morning after using a lot of drugs, most commonly associated with Ecstasy.
3) something unsafe.
4) someone or something that gives off a bad feeling.
I feel sketchy as of late. I’m not sure what it is, but the waters are not flowing smoothly like the normal bubbling brooks and gentle creeks of my life. Heh.
Weird thing is, everything seems good when I look around.
There may be a little feeling that I can’t handle my job anymore. I LOVE my career, don’t get me wrong. For someone who sits at an desk with a city/Mt. Baker view, knows fancy law and accounting and has seven years under her belt – actually HAS a job with benefits and good pay – I should be grateful.
But I’m not. I’m resentful that though my working status went from 5 days to 3, my workload hasn’t been delegated and I’m still doing the exact same amount of work in fifteen less hours per week.
There are a lot of office politics I won’t get into here, but this was the kicker:
My daughters daycare centre changed their hours so closing time is 5:30pm instead of 6. In normal circumstances, I leave my office at 4:30pm and I’m inside their classroom at 5:25pm – over 30 minutes early.
Last Friday was our first day on new hours. The train goes, the train stops. For 10 minutes. And then slowly starts again and picks up just enough speed so that I could run alongside it faster if I wanted, and stops. This happened at every crossing. Maybe 4/5 times.
I was angry at myself. It would be the first time ever I didn’t pick up my girls on time. Even though it wasn’t my fault, I felt like a shitty mom. What kid actually likes being the last one standing for anything?
Regardless, I never want that to be my kids.
But it was. Not to mention, my daycare centre charges $1/min after 5:30. But it’s not the money I cared about, it was imagining all of the other moms and dads come to pick up their little ones and Callie and Lily turning around excitedly each time they heard the door open, expecting me.
Anyway, they were fine. My charge was waived off as a warning because it was my first time.
So on Monday, I told my office manager that I’d have to leave at 4pm now in order to give room for potential train delays. Of course, that means I’d start earlier – which sucks for me because I’m not a 5am type morning person unless there’s a really good reason to be waking then. Working is not one of them. But I returned to work with a flexibility guarantee.
And she says, “Did you tell your daycare that you’re not on summer hours?”
Ummmmmmmm???
And then, “I’m going to write a letter to your daycare manager telling her it’s not going to work”
Whhhaaaaaaaaa???
Fuck off.
I’m sorry, but I’m not ten years old in need of a note, I’m a mother. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you want I’m doing. My children come first, period.
I’m tired. Even at part-time, I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of how shitty the economy is and how busy we (I) are (am). I’m tired of the commute, tired of the corporate ladder, tired of office politics, tired of miserable, stuffy people.
I’m going to look for a new job somewhere in my city, near my home and daycare. I don’t care what it is either, as long as it keeps me social and my mind fresh. Even if stay-at-home mom was an option, I can’t do it again. Ever. It’s a little known fact, when I get bored I get dangerous.
I’m pretty much 100% sure at this point, that I’m going to put my career on hold for two years and hope for the best when I try to make a comeback. Luckily, I have a good reputation within the industry, contacts and solid references. I’m not worried about my career. Hell, it might even be cool to go back to school and change careers completely.
I’m not really sketchy about that anyway, I just wanted to get it out…but there is something else.
Something else feels weird and I don’t know what. Something is off somewhere in the universe and it’s throwing me all out of balance. Don’t you hate that? When you know something isn’t right, like a sixth sense kicks in, but you don’t know whether to go with it or shake it off?
Yeah, me too.
Filed under: random | 15 Comments
mommy’s little girl
Once upon a time in a far away land (or “lamb” as my daughters would say) there was a little girl with a very musical mommy.
Rarely a night would go by that the little girl didn’t fall asleep to the sounds of Led Zeppelin, Supertramp, James Taylor, Chicago, Fleetwood Mac, Seals & Crofts, Hall & Oates, The Beatles, CCR, Jimi Hendrix, Steely Dan, Stevie Wonder and a whole slew more.
On occasion, the little girl would crawl out of bed, walk down the stairs, peek around the corner and watch her mom dance, cry, sing along or just sit there in the darkness, a cigarette burning in the ashtray beside her; needle to vinyl.
From a very young age, the little girl was asked to sit down with her mom as bands were explained, album covers studied, songs and lyrics understood. The little girl danced, cried (mostly over Rocky Raccoon) and sat staring into space, with her mom.
She was brought up with some of the greatest music in history playing in the background her entire childhood and teens.
Today, the little girl watched the memorial services in honour of a legend. She cried fat tears at the hearse and procession all the way to the moment his pallbearers carried him away.
Today, the grown girl watched a tribute to a man who made her cry and have nightmares for weeks just because he turned his sweet face away and turned back a monster in Thriller. A man who’s poster she stood in front of, closed her eyes and with butterflies, kissed. Her first real live crush – way before she even liked boys.
A man who heavily influenced her and her friend’s own pop-and-lock style of dancing in dark break beat rooms years later.
When the girl heard news of Michael Jackson’s death last week she didn’t flinch. She didn’t read about it, didn’t watch the news, didn’t take part in water cooler conversations, didn’t comment on posts, didn’t listen to old tracks, didn’t shed a tear or feeling.
She marinated in it like a cold slab of meat without emotion of any kind.
The grown girl’s mom came over to her house a few times in the days following, sat her down and basically forced her – just like when she was a little girl – to listen to MJ’s music and watch his dancing. The grown girl argued that he was too weird, too painted, too cut up and sewn back together, too comfortable with kids, too freakish.
But she sat there with her mom just like old times and watched. And it all came back.
~
He was the first guy I ever adored, really.
In a roundabout way, Michael Jackson set a precedent in my own choices about guys I’ve let into my life. From my very first real-life love to now, each and every man I’ve allowed near my heart has shown me some sort of talent, ability, passion or drive over and above the norm.
After today, I believe I have a standard – and that my standard was set all of those years ago when I was way too young to even have a crush; when I still thought boys had germs. Michael Jackson not only gave me the gifts of his music, dance, style and charisma, but also made me look past the face, physique, social status and income of any man – to his passion for something.
Perhaps these are just baked thoughts after an emotional two hours this morning watching a great man be remembered and honoured. Maybe my standards were actually rooted into me by my upbringing, I don’t know.
What I do know, is that those tears I shed today were of a little girl listening to music with her Mom. A little girl who laid out in front of the record player, night after night, studying album covers and reading lyrics – and that it was her favourite place on Earth. A little girl who was so overjoyed when she got to pick a song herself out of the extensive album collection, often picking Michael.
I won’t miss him. But I’ll definitely remember his contribution to my life.
So thank you, Michael Jackson.
And thank you, Mom.
Filed under: heart, music, self | 6 Comments
It’s no secret, I love wine.
Among dinner guests holding beer bottles and glasses filled to the brim with cubed ice, liquor and a splash of soda, it seems I’m the only person in my group who holds a glass of wine.
Whether it’s in passed down cut crystal, my fancy conasuirs or favourited petite stem made of the utmost lightweight glass – I’m the wine girl of the group.
How did I become such a wino!?
Well, it’s not the buzz I enjoy the most (thought I do totally welcome that), rather the entire capture of every sense – the texture of it roll on my tongue and past; the weight of the stem between my fingers; the way light picks up traces of pinks, golds, reds and yellows – how it glints; sticking my nose just above a poured glass, inhaling and identifying the notes; corks popping.
Back in 12th grade my best friend Codie worked in a wine making shop. I’d hang out there constantly among the vats of Sauvs, Chardonnays, Pinots and Zinfandels, shooting the shit with customers while waiting for her to get off work so we could go diving off the docks at White Pine Beach.
Back then, I was an occasional hard-bar drinker, all up in the vodka de Jour mixed with 7-UP, orange juice and a drop of grenadine or double long island iced teas at the clubs. Whatever tasted best and got me smashed fastest with the least amount of actual drinking was always my number one choice.
Though on occasion, Codie would skim a bottle or two off the top of a client’s batch of White Zin or Grenash and after popping the cork through with a Bic pen, we’d pour it into white plastic cups those night at the beach. I don’t think I had wine appreciation back then, but damn, it was good and almost made me feel more worldly in a sense.
In years to come, I slunk away from the liquids in favour of nose powders and pills, preferring to claps bottles of water and dance all night, or on occasion take shots of straight rum or whiskey just to prove the point that I could still drink the boys under the table.
Wine didn’t really come back into play until about ‘02 when my boyfriend of that moment’s dad pulled out a bottle of his famous home-slice vino over an intimate Italian feast. It was gorgeous. I think he caught onto the sparkle in my eye and continued pouring me glass after glass. He’d found a true wine companion it seemed. And I was rights tipsy feeling in front of adults I was trying to impress, yet, everyone was smiling because their grumpy gus dad/husband was smiling for once, so it was a win/win.
After I started hanging out with Colin on a regular basis, it was back to the norm. I’d show up at his place with a bottle of Bacardi Limon and proceed to kick their asses and get them all drunk over a game of Kings – while getting my own buzz more from making grown guys play a girlie drinking game (and liking it) over Tiger Woods golf on PS2, for once. Good times, good times.
Eventually, Colin and I moved into together and decided to tackle the deck – which was the remnants of him and his twin brother’s bachelorhood. Case upon case of empty beer cans and bottles lined our (his former party house) deck and Col and I got around to packing and delivering them to the depot. Our take was about $30 and we decided, totally out of the norm, on a largish bottle of vino.
That night, we sat on the clean deck for hours staring up at the sky, sipping wine, smoking and talking. I don’t remember anything about that night other than that moment:
The clink of glass, the tiny sips, the conversation.
Many nights past – we weren’t regular drinkers, but when the time came that I had to pick a drink of choice, I’d go for a bottle of wine. At first, it was always pink, of course. I mean, that’s the only thing I knew from Codie’s wine shop. But eventually, I grew up and into myself. I’d peruse wine lists with interest, kept a detailed journal complete with labels, descriptions and thoughts and read the wine column of the newspaper faithfully.
Wine, to me, is about bonding. It’s about engaging every single sense, tasting and enjoying. It’s about moments – with a group, with a dear friend or flying solo with some good music and reads.
“Poetry in a bottle” they say.
And obviously, I dove headfirst into a bottle of poetry myself tonight 
******
Update: Wow…wine makes me really wordy! Waking up to my blogs is always an interesting thing. Note: I like coffee, too…really like coffee this morning, but I’ll keep it simple:
Coffee is good stuff. Love it!
Filed under: pleasures | 7 Comments
As I write this at almost 11pm, the temps here in the suburbs of Vancouver are hovering around 19c(66f). In hindsight, it’s not that warm, but it’s the damn humidity of it all that’s getting me right now. I’m not comfortable, nor have I been all day long – it’s just too much. There have been moments today that I stood at the sink chugging bottle after (relax, stainless) bottle of water, hoping for some kind of relief from this stinking hotness to no avail.
Every summer when it gets like this I can’t wait for leaf kicking, air so crisp you choke, first snow on the local mountains, hoodies, snuggling under a blanket, hot baths, casseroles, robust red wines and crouching in front of the fireplace to warm my hands.
But then it rains for twenty-five weeks, dumps snow once or twice which, within hours, turns our city into something resembling a 7-UP Slurpee with a dash of Coke. I step into it ankle deep while Christmas shopping, public transit is finicky at best, my pale white skin cries for the kiss of sunshine…
…and I fantasize about summertime – evenings spent on the patio listening to music and sipping crisp whites, BBQ’ing every night, picnics at the beach, excitement over how much more tanned I am than you are, birds chirping outside of our window at 4am, sleeping splayed out in next to nothing with a fan blowing cool air and refreshing showers, sometimes twice.
You see, it’s a cycle.
So as I sat at the stove tonight whipping up some ravioliette, I thought about where might be the perfect place for me to live. Like Goldilocks, I wondered where would be, “just right”? What city would do it for me?
I often wish to live in Whistler, but in reality, if we weren’t millionaires, the isolation of being tucked into a mountainside of a world class ski and snowboard resort might get to me after awhile. Sure, I’ve never experienced such a wickedly laid back summer chill spot, but winters there are a gong show of massive proportions. I adore freshies (powder snow), but do I like it that much?? Plus, I can imagine Whistler also gets a bit soggy October-December/March-May and I’m trying to avoid soggy in my dreams here.
I’ve also thought a lot about relocating into the interior of British Columbia – Kelowna, Penticton, Summerland – but for all it’s worth, I’ve had some pretty shitty experiences up there over the years. In fact, I’ve never had an all around good experience in those places. So perhaps it’s not in the cards to live permanently – besides, I need a big city nearby to roam on a regular basis.
By far the most beautiful place I’ve ever been in my life was Napa Valley in California – it was my heaven on Earth and not just because it is a land of wine. Ahhh, the fresh air, gentle rolling hills of grapes, the old stone wineries. The weather was plain perfection in late July. Same with Lake Tahoe – I think I’d be down with the whole summers by lake and winters up in the mountains thing.
Hawaii. Okay, so I’ve been there, done that, and have been hypnotized by it’s gorgeousity on a few occasions. For a couple of months I considered shadowing my aunt’s footsteps by going to college there and marrying a Hawaiian whose official job title was ‘professional surfer’ – in front of the Four Seasons or something. Yep…the sweet smell of plumeria in the air, the laid back Hawaiians, aloha and mahalo, the soft sway of hips, pineapple, leis, trade winds, the warmth of the rain and sleeping with the windows wide open at night to the sound of the crashing ocean? Umm, yeah…I could live there for sure. If I could afford that, which I can’t.
Oh, there’s also Stars Hollow (from Gilmore Girls). If it weren’t a fictional US town, I’d be living there right now. Why? I don’t know.
Is anyone 100% happy and content in their regional location? Or does everyone wish for just a bit more this or bit less that? If you live in the most perfect place in the world, where is that?
And can I come over?
Filed under: random, thought vomit | 7 Comments
3 Bean Salad
It’s Saturday July 4th – Happy Independence Day, America. I really do love your Targets, accents, AM/PM, the scent and simplicity of your green money, your scary border patrol who asked me to pull into Bay 3 and proceeded to rip apart the contents of my car that one time, your cheap gas, Vegas, Tahoe, the way you say roof like “rueff”, dirt cheap clothing, outlet malls and how you sell beer and wine in the grocery stores! Simply amazing.
I’ll even look past that one time I celebrated the 4th with you on your soil and while I was watching the massive fireworks display, one of the casings (which was on fire) came straight for me as I sat on the beach. Emotionally, it may have scarred me for life, but it’s all good
You’re a great country.
Be merry and safe, my American friends!
Memes (or as Jeremy might say, “Mommy bloggers writing autobiographies and calling them memes”) seem to be the theme of my weekends, so here’s another one courtesy of who else but Laura.
Three names you go by:
1. Jen or Jenn or Jennifer
2. Pet name blanket: Hun, baby, princess, beautiful, honey, angel, cutie, sweetheart
3. Huckdoll/Huck
Three screen names you’ve had:
1. Huckdoll (and many variations)
2. jennmommy22 (during my mom forum days)
3. The Other Jen (back when I first started blogging)
Three physical things you like about yourself:
1. Legs
2. Bum
3. Eyes/Eyebrows
Three physical things you don’t like about yourself:
1. Post-twin baby stomach
2. Feet – but I think all feet are gross
3. A zit or breakout
Three parts of your heritage:
1. Russian
2. German
3. Canadian
Three things you are wearing right now:
1. Capris
2. A blue LaSenza camisole
3. A smile?
Three favorite bands/musical artists:
1. Citizen Cope
2. Explosions in the Sky
3. Jem
Three favorite songs:
I’ll just go from the above selections.
1. All Dressed Up – Citizen Cope. The song itself is average, but it’s the lyrics that do me in. Rawr!
Here’s a song for you I play
For all of my life, for all of my days
Life is short but the summer is long
And we could get together a lot before the fall
And when you get near, close enough to hear, thoughts just settle
The thoughts just clear
And I could touch you right
And I could rush you right and
Them walls gonna fall like the full moon-light
Whoa. Hi.
2. Your Hand in Mine (w/strings) – Explosions in the Sky
3. Yellow tied with On Top of the World – Jem
Three things you want in a romantic relationship:
1. Passion in all walks of life
2. Someone who likes to talk yet can have quiet, contemplative moments. Has dreams, ideas, goals, can take my breath away and whose breath can be taken away, a unique individual – I know, that’s way more than three – I’m picky. Luckily, I seem to have found it all already though 
3. Laughs/Play
Three physical things about the male sex that appeal to you:
1. Shoulders/back/neck
2. Mouth
3. Eyes
Three of your favorite hobbies:
1. Reading
2. Writing here/handwritten journals
3. Puzzles, word games, board games, dice games, crosswords, card games
Three things that scare you:
1. Flying
2. Bridges
3. Excessive speed
Three of your everyday essentials:
1. My favourite pen and a notebook
2. A book/paper/puzzles for the train commute
3. Smooth legs
Three places you want to go on vacation:
1. New York
2. A Place By the Sea on the Sunshine Coast
3. Montreal
Three careers you have considered:
1. Certified General Accountant
2. Lawyer
3. Psychologist
Three ways you are stereotypically a man:
1. Beer
2. Hockey
3. I like shiny, black trucks with big engines that haul
Three ways you are stereotypically a woman:
1. Flowers
2. Baths and body products of all sorts
3. I’m highly emotionally charged
Three things you want to do before you die:
1. Take my mom and honey to NYC; skate hand in hand at Rockefeller Center with Colin
2. Catch the sunrise atop Haleakala in Maui and afterward mountain bike down the nearly 10,000 foot crater
3. Learn to sail
Three things you want right now:
1. Laundry to be dry so I can change out of capris and into a skirt
2. Ultimate relaxation – a lake, sunglasses, a chair, my book, an ice cold beer and sunscreen will do
3. My laptop to get better (I still try her everyday). I miss my iTunes, photos and general organization of my poor lappy *sadface*
Filed under: meme, self | 4 Comments
happy birthday to you
In reflection of years past I honestly cannot remember what we’ve done for your birthday…the only one that sticks out was our vacation to Osoyoos and the mess I made – the alcohol; Tony hitting that damn boat trailer and the subsequent fight; the hangover; the ice cream cake I bought and stuck under the A/C in the car in hopes it would make it back to Vancouver intact (fail, duh); driving away the next day from the desert in a sandstorm – the gusts of wind causing me to death grip the steering wheel with shaking hands – all while vowing to never return to that God forsaken summer party town which we (I) had just left an ugly mark on.
I hate that it’s the only birthday of yours I can actually remember.
The rest of them have been so downplayed that they don’t even register in my mind. Over the years, I’ve always let you be the romantic, let you woo me and do all of these amazing, beautiful things to make me feel like a true princess on my birthday. I never even tried to reach that level of giving and passion in gestures. Lazy mind, lazy heart and taking YOU for granted in the knowledge that you’d always love an want me no matter what I did or did not do on your birthday. It was almost unconscious and somehow, your special day has been lost in the shuffle of Canada Day celebrations and upcoming holidays.
I’ve been unthoughtful in the past, leaving everything to the last minute and/or counting on others to make the plans; money spent on ridiculous things to make up for my serious lack of creativity, at other times nothing more than a happy birthday.
For that, I am truly sorry.
I’ve not walked the talk of your partner and it’s only been in recent weeks that I’ve felt an overwhelming urge to give to you; to listen to you and to what you – Colin, the man, the heart, the soul, the mind – want and need from a partner.
Only now have I actually looked past the Daddy, the protector, the provider, the lover. Often I look at you now when you’re not paying attention and admire; wonder. I think about what would make you happy, what would make your heart swell, what would give you butterflies, what would put the biggest, brightest smile on your face.
And the answer is simple really.
It taken a lot to get to this point. Our years together have been nothing short of turbulent, a downright nose spin straight into icy waters that ended last week in what felt like an explosion on impact. How we’ve managed to collect the pieces and save us, I don’t know. But today, I’m so pleased and honoured to say that we’ve made it out of that wreckage hand in hand. That because of our crash and burn, we’ve become stronger, more passionate, more in in-tune with Colin and Jennifer.
That we’re no longer playing roles of married people with kids, rather truly nurturing the individuals, the spirits and souls, tending to the very fabrics of which we are made from. Lets never lose us again, okay?
Yes, you are a good, kind, gentle man. I wouldn’t love and have had children with you if you weren’t.
But, you are also a person, an individual that I am truly, passionately and so very much in love with. You don’t settle or allow me to settle for anything but excellence, passion, excitement and happiness in this relationship – and for that, I am the luckiest woman alive. On this day, your birthday, I want to shout it from the rooftops, print it on a banner and hang it from the tallest building and spell it out in fireworks in the purple sky for all to see, however, my little piece of the internet will have to do.
Anyway, I wanted to buy you new golf clubs for your birthday (and you’ll still get them even if I have to take a second job), but since we have that little saving for Disneyland problem, I hope this suffices for now:
Here is my heart.
Happy 29th Birthday you young thang
Filed under: heart, love | 11 Comments
Wine, please. Now.
Oy.
This morning I stood at the stove top, made the girls silver dollar sized buttermilk pancakes and contemplated the day ahead. A solid 9 hours of sleep and sunshine gave me the energy and drive to do anything.
It was a grand plan. Take the girls downtown to my office, then to lunch at White Spot (a Canadian treasure) for their first pirate pack and finally, take “mommy’s train” back to the burbs. A brave feat without Colin and his unwavering patience and calm demeanor.
But as I observed them, I had a feeling. One deep in the pit of my stomach urging me NOT to leave the city. Instinct was telling me to stay put. So I revised our plans and we headed to the local White Spot with my Mom.
En route, we all talked about best behaviours, manners, please and thank you.
Lunch was extraordinary. Of course the girls were lovely the entire time and adored the new experience. They love White Spot (and Tim Hortons), so they are, in fact, true Canadians. Yay.
It wasn’t until after lunch when we headed to Chapters to browse and buy some books that all hell broke loose. When one of my online girlfriends referenced the book, ‘The Post-Birthday World’ by Lionel Shriver in an email recently, I was sold. I needed that book regardless of the almost $19 price tag. Ouchie.
So off we went and browsed one of my favourite, quiet, places. I grabbed my book and headed back to the girls and Mom in the bargain children section. I saw a collection of fairy tales on sale for $4.99 each, so I told the ruggers to each pick one.
They had a choice of six. They both chose the same one.
Breathe.
I explained that they would both get to hear the other’s story at bedtime, so pick two different ones. They both chose the same one. Again.
Breathe.
Finally, Lily picked a different book and we headed up to pay. Then something happened. I don’t know what, can’t remember. All I recall is one child sprawled out on the hardwood floor screaming, “DaaaaaaDDDEEEEEEEEE!!!!!” and the other standing there bawling.
I started to sweat – no calming breathes were available anymore. People were looking up from their quiet book reading in disgust, so I did what I could.
Throwing my debit card and purchases to my mom, I picked the one up off the floor and headed outside. From inside, I could hear the other screaming for Daddy.
O.M.G.
When we were all finally outside, the show continued. I could barely contain my own tears at that point, but I did. They calmed down a bit and I was able to take Callie up in my arms and hold Lily’s hand, but I couldn’t do it for long. I told Callie that she had to walk – “Mommy’s arm is going to fall off, I’m sorry.”
And she just stood there. Crying and yelling for Daddy.*@&#. !@(*&$.
I lost it and started crying right there with them in the middle of the parking lot. Ugh. It was horrible.
Eventually we started walking again. Callie and Lily both had death grip on my hands, but wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t even acknowledge me.
About a block from home, Callie says to me in the most disturbing, pissed off, attitude-filled demon voice,
“Mommy. I’m gon tell Daddy you’re a MEAN GIRL.”
and then,
“You’re NOT my best friend, Mama.” and I said, “Good. I don’t want to be your best friend anyway.”
Gee. I’m 4 now.
What the hell, man? WHAT DID I EVEN DO HERE? I bought them a book, that is all.
I’m frustrated though. What happened to my lovely, well-behaved and mannered little ladies all of a sudden? Is this really what happens when I dare skip nap time? Never again I tell ya.
I am thankful for…
- Canada Day celebrations tomorrow where we will be with Daddy and a ton of friends at a crowded place with hundreds of loud kids and a family-friendly beer garden
- A new book with rave reviews to bury my nose in
- A whole bunch of new Lush stuff to soak in a bath tonight while I bury my nose in new book – thanks Dad and Lin!
- A very cute, very soft, little pink and charcoal grey number to slip into after – thank you Colin!
- The lady in the condo above me being a singer and wooing the entire neighbourhood with her gorgeous voice at this very moment
- Colin’s boss offering him Thursday off for his birthday and him taking it
- Wine
- My Mom who told me I did nothing wrong today and made me laugh about it all – thank you Mom!
- Two 3 year olds who are sleeping for the night as I write this at 6:40pm
That is all.
Filed under: pleasures, twinsanity | 11 Comments
Dear Girls,
Cc: Daddy
Re: Travel
Dear Girls,
A few weeks ago, Daddy asked me to start making a list of things I want to do in my life. There’s a bunch of stuff on it, but three of them are specifically to do with you:
1. Pay for half of a car for you guys when you get your licenses – matching your own savings.
2. Give you the opportunity of education at whichever university you chose, without the burden of student loans.
3. The gift of travel – do the Europe or Australia thing after graduation, before you immerse yourselves in studies. Maybe learn some new languages, meet some foreign friends, enrich yourselves with different cultures. Do more than suntan all day with neon pink bands around your wrists at swanky all-inclusive resorts and dance on tables all night in bars called ‘Kahlua’s’ and ‘The Zoo’ while chugging ladies only two-for-one strawberry margaritas…ahem…like some kids do.
But. Last night I saw this:
And just so you know well in advance, I take it back and you are not to leave Canadian soil without us.
There may come a time – like it did for me – that you have a tight group of friends. One that includes many strong, big, protective guys. Your Daddy will like them and trust them because they don’t speed, don’t drink and drive, respect women and elders and spend more time playing video games with him than they do hanging out with you.
Mommy had this and was allowed onto foreign lands, unchaperoned, at 18 years old, but seeing it’s a different day of age, we should probably move that up to 30 for you girls, mkay?
Okay.
I love you so much, baby girls.
~ Mommy (or ‘Jennifer’ as you so love to call me these days)
****
Damn. I’m still trying to shake off that movie. Watching it completely exhausted me and then I couldn’t sleep for an hour. Scary, intense, sad, brutal, heart-wrenching, disturbing – especially for parents of girls. A huge eye-opener.
Highly, totally, 100% recommended.
Filed under: random | 10 Comments
I just want to say thank you for everything. Your thoughts, emails, offers of hugs, help and words of support – all of it. It always amazes me how much people care and take time out of their busy lives to read and respond.
Regardless of if you read that post or not, you all had a part in reaching out, pulling me back up to standing position, brushing me off, straightening my shoulders and knocking my chin back up. So thank you.
I’m closing the comments and pulling the plug on that post now. I’m sorry if you weren’t able to read it, I’m just ready to continue on now.
I am okay. We’re okay. The line is drawn through the day and forward I go.
Now for some fun to get me back in the groove.
1. What is your current obsession?
Tony Robbins motivational stuff and everything that branches off from there. I’ve been watching a lot of youtube videos of not just Tony, but of various motivational speakers and theorists about life, choices, happiness, emotional muscle, etc.
I’d like to buy his stuff and do the program one day, but for now I’m absorbing as much as I can for free.
2. What is your weirdest obsession?
Hmmm. I’ll come back to that one if I can figure it out.
3. Recall a fond childhood memory?
Racing down the stairs with my brother, on our bums, in sleepers.
4. What’s for dinner?
Well, last night we had some friends over for a BBQ and did strip sirloins and salad. It was so good that we might do it again, but this time add baked potatoes and Caesar salad.
5. What would you eat for your last meal?
I’d just want to sit at my favourite restaurant and order a bite of everything I love.
6. What’s the last thing you bought?
Two grande Americanos at Starbucks this morning.
7. What are you listening to right now?
Nothing in this very moment. In general though, I’m still listening to a lot of Explosions in the Sky – it’s the kind of music you’re glad to be alive to hear. No lyrics, just beautiful and moving.
8. What do you think of the person who tagged you?
No one tagged me, but I’ve seen this meme on so many blogs lately. I actually followed one chain of this meme for an hour yesterday and visited blogs I’ve never heard of because I love reading the answers so much.
That said, I finally decided to do the meme when I read it on Laura’s blog this morning – and she’s a cool chick.
9. If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished, anywhere in the world, where would it be?
Whistler, BC
10. If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
The spa for a massage.
11. Which language do you want to learn?
Italian
12. What’s your favourite quote (for now)?
“Beliefs have the power to create and the power to destroy. Human beings have the awesome ability to take any experience of their lives and create a meaning that disempowers them or one that can literally save their lives.”
13. What is your favourite colour?
Yellow
14. What is your favourite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
Currently, it’s what Colin brought me home from LaSenza yesterday, but it’s always something from there that is my fave piece of clothing – if lingerie and cute sleepwear count.
15. What is your dream job?
Creating photo and video portfolios for young athletes in winter sports like skiing and snowboarding.
16. What’s your favourite magazine?
I don’t read magazines unless I’m in a waiting room – total waste of money to me.
17. If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
Sunglasses. More likely though (because I don’t think I could spend $100 on myself): a babysitter, dinner and a movie out for Colin and I. To start the date, we could try on cheap shades at Wal-Mart or something
18. Describe your personal style?
Soft, light, casual, fitted.
19. What are you going to do after this?
Start laundry.
20. What are your favourite films?
The Devil Wears Prada; The Notebook; Pursuit of Happiness; Entrapment; Thomas Crown Affair; Twilight; Crash; The Wedding Singer; 50 First Dates; Casino; The Usual Suspects
I don’t know, I’m not really a movie person – those are just a few I’d watch again or have watched numerous times.
21. What’s your favourite fruit?
All kinds of berries.
22. What inspires you?
The silence of early morning, mountains, the sky, music.
23. Your favourite books?
Again, books. Yeah, I read a lot of them, but meh. No faves – I don’t think I could read a book twice. Let’s see, I love Marian Keyes; Sophia Kinsella; Maeve Binchy. I like books with non-North American settings. I also adore quick, paperback police/lawyer thrillers.
24. Do you collect anything?
Snowbabies
25. Any advice that’s come from bitter experience?
From one of my last posts:
Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it’s the only way to live life completely.
and
Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
26. What makes you follow a blog?
Depth, truth, passion.
I do read a few family type/mommy blogs and photography/niche blogs, but I prefer personal blogs with lots of realness and heart. Cakes n’ pies n’ rainbows, income-earning blogs with hundreds upon thousands of readers, blogs that try too hard, bitch too much, too dark, dripping with sarcasm – I avoid. They’re not bad things, but, too much of anything turns me off.
A mash-up is always a good thing and is what catches my attention.
Filed under: meme, random | 7 Comments
Because…
…of the sensitive nature of the post below, I’m only giving the password to a few people. Please don’t be offended or anything of the sort.
Hopefully, I’ll be back eventually with something cheery and happy.
Email me if you’d like to read. I do need some serious advice – it’s just not a lookie-loo post or something I want to share with the world.
Filed under: Uncategorized | 11 Comments
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