Pickin’ Bits & a Boob Scratch.

Some people think that staying in on a Friday night is a sin. I remember the days when I thought the exact same thing, but times have changed for me. I enjoy coming home Friday after work. I have put in my week at work and can hardly wait to put on my slobby slob-out clothes, grab a bag of chips, a big glass of coke zero and improve my life via Pinterest. It works for me. Plus – I get to spend some quality time with my gorgy Zozo dog and her baby cat Charlie.

Now – we all know that I spoil the Zoey dog – to say the least. Do I need to remind anyone that I got the kitten for Zo – to keep her company during the day? No. So would it really be a surprise to find out that I spent part of my Friday night Pickin’ Bits for her. You see – I thought I was being quite smart, quite clever when I bought the delish looking dog food from the liquidation world. It had healthy little bits of dried beans and carrots in it. She eats beans and carrots off of my plate – so I thought she would like some in her own food. Wrong. Apparently the Zo has a very refined palate when it comes to her beans and carrots. That’s right – she does not approve of eating either one in the dried crunchy state. So I watched her as she would take a mouthful of the dried food over to the carpet , drop it all on the carpet, and then eat everything but the dried beans and carrots. She left those on the carpet for me to pick up. Ya – I don’t really want to be picking up these stupid bits every single day. But I am like a super genius and decide to dump out the whole bag on the counter – pick out the bean and carrot bits and chuck them in the garbage. Really – come on. This is Ridiculous – but I started so I actually finished. It took almost an hour.

After completing this tedious task I decided to reward myself with a nice hot bath. I love my baths. Zo always sits by the tub while I soak. She waits for me to get out and then dries my toes. I guess Zo’s new kitten Charlie wanted to become part of our bathing ritual. I saw her perched on the toilet seat – just watching. Okay – I am not stupid – I don’t trust this cat for nothin’. She is totally wild, and completely insane. I look at her and decide I was safe – I know she doesn’t like water – I know this for sure. How? Because when it was +35 out I thought she might like a little dip in Zozo’s pool. Ha! – Not so much. Don’t go getting all up in arms with me either. I was not being cruel – I didn’t just chuck her in. I had her on a leash and I lowered her in carefully and I was holding on tight. Lets just say I won’t do that again. And there is also the fact that I can now hold up a spray bottle of water and she halts in her tracks. This is my only defence against this 2 lbs. weapon of mass destruction. When I find her hanging on my sheers – a little spray of water – and she’s gone. The curtains are all snagged to shit now anyways – but that’s besides the point. There are times where I catch Charlie planning her next random attack on my home décor – and when I do – I call her name – show her my weapon – and she changes her little evil mind, for that moment in time anyways.

Okay – Okay – way off track again – I know.

So – I am relaxing in the tub – my knees up, my head on the inflatable pillow. I could sleep in that steamy hot water , I really could. My false sense of security has taken over any common sense. The tiny cute kitten,who I am now quite sure is a demented flying squirrel=cat, is planning her next attack.

My Moment of Zen is over in a quick second. Charlie – being the Cirque de Sol acrobat that she is has obviously scoped out my dry knees sticking up and has leaped towards them . She thinks she will be safe from the water but does not realize she has just scared the bejesus out of me. So I jolt – she drops. Before she gets “wet” she has somehow landed on my now upright chest. As I sit up she sinks her little razor claws into my boob. She is hanging from me like a cheap necklace. Not cute. This kitten has clawed the crap out of me , but I never thought I would get a boob scratch from her. I really should have known better. After removing the kitten from my body I know I have lost my chance for that relaxing bath moment.

As I reflect on my Friday night I know that I could be doing other things. If I really wanted I could go party it up , or go for dinner, go to a movie. Maybe I should change things up a bit – go out on Friday nights. Stop = I will not give in to the maniacal mayhem of this baby feline. I will be the boss of her. She will not dictate my life – or my Friday nights. Right?

Right?

CBC, Readers Digest, and Bobby Pins.

I have told you all before that this is the year I turn 50. And I am looking forward to it – even though I am kind of shocked I have made it this far. When I was 17 or 18 I could not even conceive the thought of eventually being 30, let alone 50 !! Seriously – I just thought I would die before ever being that old. Its not that I wanted to die , or that I was unhappy with life, I was just certain that I would never be old. Perhaps it was this mind set that made me never really believe I was getting old – or older. Somehow I managed to make 20 years disappear. One minute I was 30 (and quite fabulous I might add) and in the blink of an eye I am almost 50. I can’t say I am Fabulous but I can say I am pretty great. I am definitely a lot happier and way more content. And I am weirder. Yes – I am undeniably Weirder, and this is the part of aging I like the best. You can be as weird as you want and just chalk it all up to aging – or to menopause (if nothing else sounds right)

Its only in the last 2 years that I have received the Obvious Physical Signs of Aging. Some grey hairs, little wrinkles around the eyes, stiff and sore body, memory loss, and stupid menopause .
Seriously – If I would have been a little more aware of myself I would have realized that I was aging before the Big Slap in the Face Physical Signs ever hit me.

There are a lot of little things going behind the big pound and ground of physical aging. Simply little things – like retiring my high heels and opting for a more “comfortable” pair of shoes. I still have my sexy high stiletto shoes and I still love them. I even have tried to wear them on occasion…. ya ‘ not a great idea. If that isn’t self induced torture I don’t know what is. Or how about how all of a sudden I just didn’t watch music videos on TV anymore. I used to love MTV. But there was that one day when I go to turn on the music and it wasn’t “my” music. Where in the hell did “my’ music go? And who where all these new freaky young people on the TV. What kind of music is this – and why are their pants falling down. Somebody should really buy them some new pants. Maybe they need some Slacks. Some sharp, fitted Slacks. Quickly – I had to say “Slacks” – sorry – but I just love that word and do not get to use it often enough. Anyhow – these are just 2 examples but I am sure you all get the idea.

I have narrowed it down to 3 little things that have my 17 or 18 year old self would use as undisputable evidence that I am now older. And I make it very clear to my younger self that I not OLD – I am just old -ER (older). But lets appease my 17 year old self by submitting the unarguable evidence. Here it is :

Listening to CBC Radio
Reading Readers Digest
The use of Bobby Pins

I admit it – I am a CBC Lover. This was not always the case. The memories of my father blaring CBC radio throughout the house are still vivid. He had good hearing so I could never understand why he was playing the radio so friggin’ loud. And he would have CBC Radio blaring while he was playing the piano – even more annoying. Its amazing the lengths he went to – just to annoy me. I would come in the house and run straight for that radio and turn it down. Just like he would do to me if I was listening to Alice Cooper on sound level 1 or 2. I mean a dog couldn’t even hear that. I am not really sure when it happened but I started listening to CBC on my own – it was no longer the station that was the “nails on the chalkboard” . In fact – I even look up their guide – see what great things are ahead on the CBC. I cannot imagine life without Stuart McLean and the Vinyl Café. I could listen to that all weekend long.
My 17 year old self seriously would commit Hari Kari over this.

Yes – and Readers Digest. When I was 17 – or any age up until a few weeks ago. The only place I ever saw a Readers Digest was at my Grannies house. Really! I would pick it up and flip to the back pages where the little games were. They were so easy – I felt like a genius doing them. But the rest of the little book/magazine I could live without. I mean all the articles were on Life, cooking, health, culture, travel, or just dumb home handy stuff. No 17 year old needs this kind of information. We pretty much know everything at the perfect age of 17 – so its hard to imagine anyone benefiting from that stupid little book. Yup – you know it. I buy (purchase with my own money) Readers digest!! I am a reader, so this wonderful little book fills the perfect void in my life…that being a good Tub-Read. I am in the bath tub a lot – soaking my sore achy body in hot water and Epsom salts….and this book is so light weight, so perfectly sized for my arthritic hands. It is a match made in heaven. And I know without a doubt my 17 yr. old self is giving me the big stink eye as I say out loud how delightful I find all the little stories and articles. Readers Digest is now my new favourite magazine. ( and you rarely see a stiletto heel in it either – just sayin’) If anyone out there has struggled with tub-reading as I have in the past – just go get yourself a copy – problem is solved. You are Welcome.

Lastly – it is the Bobby Pin that has helped me to be more aware of my New Oldness. I have always had bobby pins in my make up case. Always. I don’t even know where I got them. I have never used them – but I have always had them on hand. Some old person must have given them to me – maybe when I was 17 – knowing I would use them someday. It must have been someone I really liked because I never chucked them. I mean aren’t Bobby pins to help keep the bun in your hair? A million bobby pins in those old lady buns you know. My 17 yr. old self would not be caught dead with a bobby pin in her head. I spent hours to curl my hair and try and get it just like Farrah Fawcetts hair. There was plenty of hair spray involved so a bobby pin would never ever have even been needed. Well don’t you just know it – the other day I came across my bobby pins and low and behold I am now a bobby pin user. Yup – that quick – it happened in the blink of an eye. They are in my hair right now. Yes they are. Are they fancy? Are they fashionable? Are they cute? No. No. And No. Do I care? No. No. And No. Its over 30 degrees outside – my hair has frizzed out to beat the band. And those little bobby pins work like a charm.

To sum it up – we all know the physical signs of aging, but we should all really take note of the little signs. It is the little signs that really give away our “real” age. We might still look good on the outside – but certain things are a dead giveaway to our “real” age. And maybe – just maybe when a 17 yr. old tells us we are old – well – they may not be right – but they are probably onto something. So watch for the signs people – all of the little signs.

Kraft Dinner

You know that song “If I had a million Dollars” – by the Barenaked Ladies ?? I hope you all say yes – because that song should be a classic for Everyone – not just us Canadians. Anyhow – in the song its says that if they had $1,000,000 they would buy the “real” Kraft Dinner. Well – I agree with this more than you know. I have always been a fan of the “real” Kraft Dinner. I can eat a whole box myself. Even when I was a kid in school I ate a whole box myself. Honestly – I don’t think I would even make a box if I had to consider sharing it. As far as comfort foods go Kraft Dinner has always been one of those self indulgent staples that can be found in my pantry.

99% of the time I prepare the KD so it is just its regular smooth and creamy artificial cheesy consistency, this is when I like to top it with Ketchup. And pepper – lots of fresh ground pepper. Fresh ground pepper makes any meal fancier. Oh – and do I even have to say that the Ketchup must be Heinz? God – I hope not people – because that should just be a given. There is no ifs, ands, or buts about this one. You simply cannot pair the most legendary of boxed dinners with a less-superior condiment. Everyone knows there is no substitute that can match the perfection of the “real” Kraft Dinner – so it is really an unspoken truth , knowledge, or just a fact of life that if you are a person who prefers to top your KD with ketchup – it must be Heinz. And I am sorry to say that you can’t use the little ketchup packs you bring home from the Burger joints – even if they say they are Heinz.(I for one cannot be so sure that it is really Heinz – but that’s another story). I have done it before -(used the little packets) but only in an emergency situation – I guess it got me through the meal , however it really was not the same. I will admit that I do have very high standards when it comes to my KD meals, but I truly believe we should all show the proper amount of respect that is demanded by such a celebrated meal.

When I am sick the other 1% of the time- the whole KD preparation changes! I have to make it “soupier”. I know all my fellow KD connoisseurs know exactly what I mean. You just add a little – or a lot more milk so that the manufactured cheese sauce becomes more saucier – more liquidy. The soupy KD will require a large table spoon for consumption, whereas the “normal” KD is edible with a fork – if you so choose. Okay – so I only make the soupy KD when I am under the weather, and obviously this is just my own personal preference. Some people may to prepare their KD in the “soupier” way most of the time – this is acceptable – and once again a matter of personal preference. Obviously when KD is made soupier nobody in their right mind would put any ketchup on it – that would be absurd. You can have a little pepper – but not a lot- and not fresh ground – just the regular powdery type. Nobody should choke on pepper chunks when they are not feeling well.

When I was in university I even had Hangover KD. Obviously this in an experimental time of our lives. Some of us get into some pretty bad stuff during these formidable years, its really scary to think of the garbage we will just try so willingly before we even think it through. At this age I had it in my head that not only was I smarter than my elders – but I was smarter than Kraft itself, because I was going to tamper with the very essence of the KD experience . I really was just at the age where I didn’t have the respect I should have for anyone – or anything – including Kraft Dinner. I threw out the cheese pack – and stirred in a can of cream of mushroom soup. Perhaps in my youth I thought I was being fancy -or that somehow I was better than the cheese packet. This is what can happen to a young adult after flipping through a few of your aunties cookbooks. I admit I was a complete rebel – and really should have been punished for the total annihilation of the Original KD Experience. But trust me – eating it like that was punishment enough, and it never did cure a hang over . It may have made me barf though – which probably helped in my recovery. My KD Rebellion did not last long and in no time I was once again a responsible, and respectful KD consumer.

So – Anyhow – If I had $1,000,000 – it would be a sure bet that I would buy the “real” Kraft Dinner – and lots of it. I would have a nice little “hoard” of it. And only the Original Kraft Dinner. As Enjoyable as the White cheddar, the Sprirals and the other varieties can be -my heart is stuck on the Original KD. I just love it – and I would never cheat on it by trying another brand. In the worse case scenario -like a Zombie Apocalypse or whatever – If all I had in my “end of the world” cupboard was KD – I would be happy to eat it every day. I would probably buy other things with my $1,000,000 too – but like I said – it would be a safe bet that I would always have “REAL” Kraft Dinner in my cupboards!

Cat for the Dog

For the last 2 years I have felt really really bad for leaving my precious Zozo ( aka Zoey or “The Zo” ) at home everyday while I go to work. In case you don’t know – Zozo is my Gorgy Gorgy (short for gorgeous) Long Haired Jack Russell. She is truly just the light of my life. I love her beyond words – and Yes – she may be a tad on the spoiled side. Just a Tad – But that is to be expected because I do not have children of the Human variety.

Zozo & I used to live out in the country and for some reason while we lived out there I never felt bad leaving her in the house all day. I guess its because she could run around free out there. Our walks did not require a leash, we would just go out the back door and right into the wilderness. And we had the best neighbors out there- Zozo really really loved them. I would open the door and off she would go down her well beaten path to the next house down. They had a beautiful black lab that Zozo loved to play with. They also let Zoey right in their house when she showed up. They were so good to her and she made herself right at home there – sitting at the kitchen table being fed pancakes and bacon. I guess its no wonder there was a well beaten path to their house – I never gave her treats that good. Anyhow – the day came where Zoey and I moved into the city. Her days of leashless walks, rabbit chasing, and pancake feeding neighbors were over. Everything changed. She became a prisoner of the city, and all of its ridiculous dog-laws that really were not made to ensure her happiness.

Now all of our walks require a leash. Mind you she is a good leash walker – no problems there. Its just that she no longer has any freedom. I can’t just open the door and let her go chase rabbits and squirrels – she must be under my constant supervision. It is now 2 years later and the guilt of leaving her alone has finally got the better of me. For a long time I thought I should get her another dog to hang out with, but there were so many things to consider. First of all – I am not sure if Zozo would appreciate another dog in the house. I mean – she is no doubt the boss of the house. Numero Uno, Queen of the World , and definitely the Boss of me. She owns the house and basically lets me live there and pay the mortgage for her.

It occurred to me that when we lived out in the country there was a short period of time where we looked after an abandoned kitten. I found the kitten in the ditch by our driveway. So I made it a little bed in our garage and let it set up house there. I never really considered letting the cat inside. I just assumed that a Jack Russell + Small Baby Cat could only lead to chaos. As it turns out, Zoey loved this little cat. I mean she really really loved this little cat. When I would get home from work she bolted to the cats house and smothered it with sloppy tongue kisses. It was quite surprising really. She would even carry it around by the scruff of the neck and take it to the safety of the garage if she heard her black lab friends approaching.

You can see where this is going – right? Yes – I got my Gorgy Zozo a baby-cat. She went bezerk when I brought her home. I was afraid she was going to lick the tiny head off of the baby cat. The cat is very very tiny. I named her Charlie. Zoey truly seems to enjoy having her own baby cat – except at night time when it wants to keep her up to play and chew on her tail. We all know I am a good mother to the Zo (obviously – I just got her a cat for heavens sake) – so to keep her happy and to ensure we both gets our proper beauty sleep I have had to turn my arts and crafts room into Charlies new room . Yes – until Charlie learns to sleep at night with Zoey & I she will have to have her own nighttime room. And yes – I have the room full of all the goodies any baby cat should have, its not like we are locking the poor thing up in a closet.

This story only goes to show the world that a True dog lover will do almost anything for their dog. If the scratches all over my body, the cleaning of the litterbox, or the stinky wet kitten food are not enough proof then I do not know what is. I do know that The Zo is quite content with her baby cat Charlie. And I am happy that she is not alone all day. In the end all that matters is that my Zozo is happy. I will do whatever it takes – obviously because I just got a Cat for my Dog.

Paula and the N-Word.

“N”  

The 14th letter of the Alphabet.  This letter is the first letter of many Words.  Good words, bad words, atrocious words, swear words, and forbidden words.

Then there is just the “N-Word”.  We all know this is one of the worst words ever.  And I truly did not want to write about the N Word. But I have to.  The N-Word has held me captive for the last 10 days of so. Seriously – it really has.  Every channel on the news is very focused on Paula and the N-Word.

Let me make something clear – I do not like the N Word. I do not use the N Word. I do not think anyone should use the N Word. And I will admit that I am confused as to why and how it is acceptable for some people to use the word . It is clearly okay for the N-Word to be used in some music and definitely in movies. When I finally turned the news to the Movie channel the first movie I watched  was using the word so much it just sent me into a higher level of confusion. But this is not the real issue for me, or my real concern.

My real concern was the total lack of forgiveness to Paula.  At first I was totally shocked that there was no forgiveness to Paula for admitting to using the N Word. I mean – we are all forgiving people for the most part. I do believe this.  And she used the word 30 years ago…… that’s a long time ago.  Thank God that I am not being judged for anything I said or did 30 years ago…..because Wow – it would not turn out good for me, even if I never did use the N Word.

After thinking all week about the N Word, and the media bombarding my brain about every thing about the N Word , it wasn’t until last night that I had a little epiphany that helped me understand how a word could make someone , even me , real ugly – and real fast. How a word could make you look past the person that said it and pass judgement on them without any insight to that person at all.

The answer came to me with another bad word.  The C-Word. The 4 letter C-Word.  I must admit that if I hear the C-Word from a mans mouth I instantly think he is a Pig. A total ignorant, disgusting Pig! Without a doubt. I do not need to know anything about the person who says the C-Word because I already know enough.  If someone can say the C-word – I pass instant judgement and I do not look back. You will not change my mind about that person. Ever.  And to me the C-Word should never be used by a woman – its even worse in so many ways.

So – I guess I have figured it out- a little.  It took one bad word to help me figure out why people would not forgive the N-Word .

Words can be powerful and this past week we have all seen how a single word can set the whole word into a huge debate.  The emotions from this one word have made us all think about the words we use. I am happy I found some understanding within myself about how such deep feelings can be conjured up from 1 single word.  And now I am putting this subject to bed. Forever.  Or for now. I think……

Mermaids and Purple Pillows

As you all know I have been suffering from severe insomnia. I have been so exhausted that I was starting to feel sick. Anyhow – I know you have all heard enough of my whining and complaining about it. But you must admit that I have become quite skilled at this “Crying Game’.

I would like to take this opportunity to Thank my sidekick “Menopause” for taking all the blame – she has been a real trooper. I have knocked her around like an old soccer ball for the last few months, holding her responsible for virtually everything wrong in my insomniac world. It could well be that I am starting to love my Menopause. Even though she can be nasty and a total body bully, she has proven herself to be a loyal punching bag. I realize as I write this she is probably plotting her revenge right now. She knows I am feeling good. She has realized she has slipped in her attack against me – Because I have Slept.

Yes people I have Slept! I got Sleep! I was Sleeping! No matter how you want to say it – It Happened! I would thank God – but he gets credit for so much. This time I am giving all the credit to Mermaids. And Purple Pillows. In that order….Mermaids first, Purple pillows second.

There is a complex chain of events that led to this miraculous event of my Sleep so I will start at the beginning. Yes – I know – you have all heard that before. Just relax, calm down, and bare with me. It will all make sense in the end.

So – on Friday night my Jack Russell Zoey was sick. This demanded my full attention for most of the night. I love my baby girl even more than The Dollar Store, and she is never sick – never! I know that all of you fellow Puppy-Parents understand what a stressful evening this was. This dog would not leave my side – she was all over me – which is weird . I mean she usually follows me around, but its with a ball in her mouth -nagging me to throw it for her. She dose not nag for lovey dove attention. It was obvious she was not her normal hyper active, ball catching, freezie eating self. I was quite certain there would be an expensive visit to the Vet the following day. Anyhow – after finally getting “The Zo” (that’s what everyone calls her) settled in my arms , we snuggled and snoozed for maybe 3 hours before my friend Gary calls me at 7:00AM and announces he is on his way to pick me up for Saturday Yard Sailing. Is he out of his mind??! Obviously I would never ever leave “The Zo” at home sick, I am a good mother. A very Good mother! After getting a little coffee in my system Gary convinces me to go yard sailing and to bring “The Zo” with us. I agree. I get myself together as best I can, after a lousy 3 hours of sleep, and the Zo and I hop into his truck. We are off!

It was the right decision. The Zo livened up as the morning went along and she enjoyed driving from house to house as much as I did. Obviously she is no stranger to compliments and she got more than her share that morning. After having a good poop on someones lawn she really came back to life. Yes Yes Yes – I picked it up. Like I said – I am a good mother.

During my most enjoyable morning of yard sailing – I spent a total of $13.00. I really got a lot of wonderful deals. I would go on to list them all , but I will just tell you the best find of the day. A Pair of Gorgeous, soft, and plush beyond belief Purple Pillows. It was love at first sight. Purple is my favorite color, and I have a lot of purple tones in my bedroom, so these pillows were a perfect fit for my plush and soft girly bedroom.

As much as I would like to just cut to the chase and get to the “Good Part” , I find it is of the utmost importance that I elaborate on the events that follow my morning of Yard Sailing. Don’t worry – I will make it quick – well – as quick as I can – you will see how this all works together – like missing pieces of my insomniac puzzle all coming together like a miracle.

Okay – so Gary drops me off from Yard Sailing – we unload his truck – I take my treasures inside. I am so proud to put the find of the day on my bed. The 2 Gorg (short for Gorgeous) Purple Pillows on my Bed. I decide to NOT finish painting my Bathroom as I should – and for some bizarre reason decide that painting my deck would be a great “afternoon” project. It could only be the lack of sleep and my tired old brain that could somehow calculate this can of worms into being a good idea. So – Gary takes my much better Zoey off to his house so she can relax by his pool – as all princess dogs should. And I actually paint about 80% of my deck. I decide I have done enough for one day and head over to Garys to collect my dog. I feel good about getting so much done , but I am really really super tired. I get to Garys and flop on his comfy couch near his pool. Its so nice and relaxing. Of course he has a big screen TV by his pool -so this is perfect for me….. Sitting on a comfy outdoor couch, by a pool, in the nice fresh air and watching whatever it is on the TV.

Heres where things get weird. Amazing – but weird.

As I relax and sip on my Coke Zero….Gary asks me if I want to watch a Documentary on Mermaids. OMG – how foolish is this man ?? Seriously?? !! – Mermaids. I almost laugh in his face – however – I am really just to tired to win this argument with him and I agree to the Mermaid Documentary. This ended up being a life changing event. I know – how weird is that!!

I would need to write a short essay to prove my point on the existence of mermaids. All I can say – Is that you Must must must watch the Animal Planet Documentary on Mermaids. Please please please watch this. I will probably have to write more about this later on….its just so amazing.

The point is – is that I have been unable to sleep for months. And the moment I learn the truth about Mermaids – that they really do exist (even thought they are not pretty and have flowing hair like the Disney mermaids) – I Sleep. And I mean I hard-core sleep. Almost a coma. For 12 hours straight . Well there could have been a coma-tose pee break somewhere in there….but nothing to really mention – so never mind.

So I give full credit to the Mermaids that I am now sleeping again. A girls dreams can come true. Toss in a pair of Gorg purple pillows – and its a whole new world. A world I never thought I would be a part of again. One of dreams, snoring, sweaty pj’s, and even alarm clocks.

And I do not forget my close friend/enemy/nemesis named “Menopause”, because even though she seems to have finally lost this war (which really she had to – since there is no winning against a Mermaid) , I do not forget her. I do not forget her – or her sneaky bag of tricks. I know she will show her ugly head again. But at least for now – I can sleep with the Mermaids.

On Gorg purple pillows!!

Can of Paint

A couple of weekends ago I had the best day yard sailing with my friend Gary. I now find myself in quite the predicament , and it can all be linked directly to that wonderful sunny Saturday.

For weeks prior to that lovely day I had been carrying around 2 paint chips in my purse. They were the colors I had finally picked to paint my bathroom as well as my living room. So it was almost an unbelievable moment when at a young couples garage sale I see all of these paint cans sitting on the concrete. I got very excited but kept calm as I approached the paint cans. It was like the gods from above were smiling down on me. There were 2 cans that almost exactly matched the chips in my purse. WOW! And they were Full – unused. 2 full cans of paint , that were only a couple of months old they told me, worth at least $50 bucks a piece, right there in my grasp. I asked how much. I was in shock as the young fellow said $2 bucks each would be good. Good – holy crap – That was Great! I gave him the money and grabbed one of my best finds of the day and off to the car they went! I was elated because I really didn’t know if I wanted to spend a lot of money to paint either of my rooms. It was like someone gave me Free paint. What a great day that was.

Now lets move ahead – actually behind – to last weekend. It was horrible cold and rainy weather. There was no yard sailing that day for sure. So I stayed home for my “Me Day” . You know – I did do some of my easy house chores – but all in all I just kind of pampered myself. I did my nails, read a book, worked on my Owl Art, and just enjoyed the day to myself. Even though it was a rainy day I really did make the most of it and enjoyed it thoroughly. I did not think anything could ruin the day. Little did I know that at 9:00pm everything was about to go horrible wrong . My split second decision at this hour would not only ruin my day – but also the days to follow. I am sure you are wondering what could possibly go so wrong. I will tell you what went wrong….

I opened that can of Paint. I thought it was a can of paint , but I now know it was really a can of Worms!

Since I suffer from a wicked case of insomnia I knew that I would not be going to sleep at 9:00 on a Saturday night. I suppose that is sad on many different levels. Perhaps I should have been out dancing the night away – but come on – at my age – Really… I guess what I am trying to say is that I am under the presumption that most gals my age would have much better things to do on a Saturday night , at 9:00pm no less, than to decide to paint their bathrooms.

Welcome to my weird world , where I exist in an exhausted state that we all know I like to blame on Menopause.

Back on track – stick to the story – I know . I know. Sorry.

I gather all the painting supplies that I so eagerly purchase that week at my beloved Dollarama. I open the can of paint, give it a good stir and generously poured some into the tray. As I am about to begin I realize I did not take time to tape off the room first. So I quickly tape off the easiest part of the room and happily paint the borders. It took me about 15 minutes to finish the borders and even roll on the paint for that very tiny section of the bathroom. As I put down the roller I realize I am totally screwed. I am forced to leave the false reality that I can paint this bathroom on a whim this quiet Saturday night. There are towel hangers, shelves, lights, and other idiotic obstacles clearly standing in my way.

All of a sudden painting the bathroom sucks beyond belief.

I get my wits about myself and put the paint away – pull out the tools I have and decide not all is lost – I will do this right. I get the shelves down no problem. The small towel hanger – no problem. Now my quiet night is not so quiet. The long silver towel bar – Ya – it does not want to come off. In fact I don’t know how to get it off. And I can’t tape around it – that would never work. So I bring out the hammer. I am smacking this hanger to high heaven. I realize my bathroom window is open – and start to wonder if my neighbor can hear me. He’s probably getting pissed off by now. After about 1/2 an hour I am triumphant. I win the battle, and yet I am still oblivious to the fact that the war has only just begun.

With my walls clear of shelves, 1 small hanger and 1 long towel bar – there is still 1 small bracket to remove. The bracket from the left side of the long bracket. No problems – the right side bracket was a breeze. So I take my little screw driver and ” have at it”. Good God – this freaky screw is Long. Way longer that the right bracket screw. And it will not come out. As I examine it closer I see it is one of those butterfly screws. Ya – I don’t know what to do at all. Then I look around and realize all the holes in the walls need some of that wall filler. I don’t have any of that. I wonder if I could just use toothpaste, which I probably would have done, but my toothpaste is that white and red swirly kind. Why could I not just have the plain white Colgate I usually buy? I am pretty certain that there would be nothing wrong with pepperminty fresh Colgate walls. I am at a total loss now – and its only 10:00pm. I pack it in. I am going back to the couch with my good book!

Okay – now we can fast forward to this evening. I have most of the holes filled and sanded once. There is still a long freaky butterfly screw hanging out of the wall. I tried to saw it off with a steak knife but to no avail. I am going to have to swallow my pride and ask someone to help me remove the freaky screw. Which I did not want to do. I just wanted to paint my bathroom on a quiet Saturday night. I wanted to say I did it all by myself. Perhaps as I lie awake tonight in my insomniac state of mind I will have a revelation on how to get rid of that screw without outside assistance.

There are many lessons to be learned from to this little story. First of all I must say “Buyer Beware”, because a simple can of paint can really mess with your mind. It can knock you down and make you take a good long look at yourself. It can make you question your own judgement, your competency. I really thought I was a smart girl, I mean I know that nothing is “Free”. And I look back to my excitement on the $2 cans of paint and realize how much it will really cost me in the end. There will be the cost of new towel racks, shelves, towels and décor. I look back now and wonder if that nice young fellow that sold me the paint was laughing at my naivety as I so happily put the paint in my car.

I hope to finish painting my bathroom this weekend. And its the first time knowing that when my “screw is loose” I will be fine with that. More than fine!

Conspiracy

Anyone that knows me knows how much I enjoy a Good Conspiracy “Theory”. I really do. Love Love Love Them. In fact I get so excited just thinking about it that I barely know where to begin. So bare with me on this one – it may be almost impossible to keep my thoughts in order. I wish I could just draw you an image of my thoughts – because this would surely make more sense. Anyhow – hang in there…

The thing is – is that – they are not really “Conspiracy Theories” . To my brilliant menopausal and insomniac mind they are just Obvious Truths. Seriously. The “REAL” Conspiracy is Obviously calling the certain subjects at hand a Conspiracy. Who is it that decides to call things a Conspiracy? Who is it that spreads the word, and attempts to disguise the undeniable truths by masking it with the word “Conspiracy”.

See – even the Word “Conspiracy” is a shrouded by Conspiracy.

I mean come on people. Lets start with the Obvious. Let look at the following 2 examples :

1. Who shot JFK. This is a famous “Conspiracy Theory”.

But why is it called a conspiracy ? We all know the answer. We all know that Lee Harvey Oswald was named as the killer. We all know that he did not shoot JFK. We know that “They” want us to believe that. “They” even had to get Jack Ruby to kill Lee Harvey Oswald so we could not ever hear the truth from his lips. Anyhow – this example is just so obvious to all of us who have done our own research. The answer is “THEY” killed JFK.

The murder of JFK leads right into another story that some would call a Conspiracy Theory – but its not.

2. The death of a Beauty. Marilyn Monroe. An accidental Death? A Suicide. Obviously Not! I think we all know who killed Marilyn Monroe. And we All know it was “HIM” not “THEM”. It was “HIM” – “He” was responsible.

These 2 Examples are like Prehistoric versions of the New improved Conspiracy Theories. The truths of these stories are so sloppily painted over, Its like a bad white wash on an old deck. The word “conspiracy” is just attached to certain events to try and confuse us all. To cast a shadow of doubt.

Before I move forward – I must clear up the obvious – just so we are all on the same page. I am aware that some people out there are still calling UFO’s and Aliens a “Conspiracy”. This seems so elementary to me – but I will help you out with this one. First of all the term UFO – is being used to mean “Unidentified” flying objects. The term “Unidentified” is really not correct because they are flying crafts that do not belong to “Our” world. Which means that by process of that simple elimination – that we have identified them as being Flying Crafts from somewhere else. So let me just sum this up for you – There are flying crafts out there that are not made by anyone on Earth. And there are being in those flying crafts that were not born on Earth. See how simple that was. Now it is clear that there is indeed Flying Saucers from outer space – and obviously Aliens are flying them.

I will admit that I have been amused and entertained for years with all of the books, movies, and articles that surround Flying Objects, Aliens, and Other Worlds. And the stories surrounding places like Roswell and Area 51 – well they are just that. Stories. Stories “They” make up to give to “Us” – the general population. “They” need stories to cover up “their” expensive little games, their expensive little secrets…. the ones “We” all pay for but don’t know about.

I must say that Today’s New Improved Conspiracy Theories are all Fascinating and totally Enjoyable.! There is 9-11, The Illuminati with its New World Order, The manufacturing of the Aids virus. I love all of these topics , but I would have to write my own book to explain my thoughts on them all. Once again , all I can say is: Why are they being called a Conspiracy? Is it because there are truths about all of these subjects that people just cannot face. Or they just don’t want to know. But for the group of us who know and love these topics, we also realize that when “They” put the term “Conspiracy” in conjunction with them – that “They” are just trying to insinuate there is some un-truths, or unknowns.

So I hope I have shed some light on this for everyone. Its easy. Theories are fine , just remember that when “They” throw the word “conspiracy” in front of anything at all – it just means “Big Fat Lies” . So under the Conspiracy lies the truth.
If you need to know the truth on any of these “theories” – feel free to just ask me. You could ask Paul McCartney – but the “real” Paul McCartney died in the 60’s. Your best bet is to ask an Alien because they know pretty much everything.

Good night all.

Off Of My Chest

We all have our own personal issues, problems, predicaments. Some are large and some are small. And we all think that our own personal problems are much more significant than everyone else’s issues.

Obviously.

I like to blame as much as I can on the weather, friends, strangers, the government, the rich, the poor, it really doesn’t matter. Of course at this age I am blessed with being able to blame almost every single circumstance on Menopause. If there is one good thing about Menopause – this is certainly it. You can blame virtually anything on menopause, and trust me I do. Seriously think about it – who in the hell is going to question me, except perhaps another menopausal woman – in which case things could turn real ugly – real fast. So far I have been lucky, most of my girlfriends are younger than me so I am safe. Which is good because I am weak. And small.

And being small – is partly how this weeks problem all started. See – I can blame part of my latest predicament on being small – which is not my fault – but obviously the fault of Biology.

Biology has made me small. I certainly could go further and blame my biology on my parents odd choice in mating with each other- however I will just lay the blame on Biology. I do not need to delve into the psychology of my parents mating choices. I have so many other things I like to blame my parents for.

Okay – so Biology has made me small- and I have small little boobs. In fact they are so small I really don’t even need a bra. At least not for support. But because I have a job and have to work with people – I have to wear nice clothes. So I wear a bra under my cute little tops , you know – just for coverage. And I like to buy the nice padded bras, or the water bras, or the fancy gel filled bras, because they actually make me look like I have a little bit going on up top. (which I really don’t). I am pretty sure that all the Big Chested Gals out there think they have the market cornered on “Boob Problems” . Well – I hope some of them read this and understand that us less endowed girls have boobie issues all of our own. Yes we do. And you know what – I bet none of “them”, The big breasted gals, will ever even have this problem.

This week my problem is that of the dented bra. Yes – I have a DENT in my padded bra. And it won’t come out. I don’t know how the dent got there – because if anyone tried to actually touch me there they would have a dent in their face. And don’t think that the dent in my bra is not an issue. It is because it is visible. I look like I am deformed. It looks as though a grizzly bear slashed a big slice right out of my poor, pathetic, fake boob.

This obviously could never ever be a problem that the Big Chested Gals could ever experience anyways, because their big knockers would just force the dent out on its own….. right? Well – we will probably never know because they (the chesty gals) probably don’t need padding in their bras to begin with. Why would they – that doesn’t even make sense. So – I think we can all agree that this really is just a problem specific to only us flat chested gals.

Now – I really don’t know who I can blame the dent in my bra on. However I am slightly worried that part of the blame may actually lay on my own shoulders. So to speak. But -its not what you are thinking. You see – it is quite possible that I did not get my “whites” done in time . Let me explain…..

The warm summer weather is upon us all . And for those of us who wear bras – I wonder if you are like me and find that you wear more White Bras in the summer ??!! Well – I definatley wear more white bras in the summer time.

Now – if you combine the frequency of the white bra wearing in with the the complexities laundry – life can get quite tricky.

As most of us know – the timing of laundry is such an important aspect of life. Well – at least my life. The “white basket” specifically has its own special needs. It is not normal laundry. And because the white basket does not fill up as quick as the other laundry baskets, it can cause problems this time of year. All of a sudden the White Bras are being tossed in on a much more frequent basis. Now when you throw a bunch of extra white spring tennis socks, new white T-shirts, frilly white work blouses – Well do I really need to say more? I think not. It is obvious that in the winter the white bras stand out in the laundry – but in the spring, OMG – they just get lost in the frenzy of warm weather white wearing.

Gosh – I got way off track again – Darned Menopausal Mind of mine!

I will leave it up to you. You may have jumped to the conclusion that the Dent in my little padded bra was somehow my fault. But clearly I cleared up this issue for myself and have given you all evidence that even I cannot take the blame for this problem. We can directly link this problem not only to biology, but also the weather. The fact that my dirty whites were piling up in secondary to all other factors.

There – I am so glad to get this dented problem off of my chest, and that I can clearly blame it on something other than myself.

Anytime – Anywhere

This continued lack of sleep is making me mental. I have always been a little on the loopy side – but I could very well be flung right out of the loop in my current mental state. I am like the living dead. I am a high functioning zombie.

We all read the endless amounts of information on the internet about menopause; the symptoms, the treatments, the doctors, the quacks, the ins and the outs, the ups and the downs, everything including the sweaty pajamas. Its just a lot to much! I was going to say ” a little to much”, but No – it really is a lot to much. What is right – what is wrong. What is normal – what is abnormal. What is true – what is false. What is Good – what is Bad. I could go on and on here – but you get the idea – right? Maybe I don’t sleep because its just to much information. Maybe my sleep deprivation is really caused because of my new “Internet Brain”. My new and improved “Internet Brain” has so much information in it that it just can’t stop sorting and filing it all. I have run out of memory, my cache is full, I need more RAM. Maybe I am finally to smart for my own good. Perhaps I just need another Flash Drive. Seriously – how is anyone in the state of Menopausal Dementia supposed to sort this out.

A year ago I decided to become a healthier version of myself. As the thought of turning 50 was becoming a reality I decided it was time to make some changes in my life. And I did – I really really did. I quit drinking alcohol completely, I quit smoking completely, I started eating a lot more healthy foods, I exercise much more regularly. One would assume that with all of these positive changes I have made that I would feel like a million bucks.

Wrong.

I feel like Crap. And it does not make sense.

Why Can’t I Sleep? Why does my body feel like it has been hit by a train and dragged down the tracks?

My teeth even hurt – and I am not lying. I all of a sudden Grind my teeth – (with a capital “g”) . I have my jaws clenched so tight that I am sure you could put a rope in my mouth and swing me around like a pit bull holding onto its toy. Every now and then I catch myself – clenching on for dear life. I swear you could not wedge a worms eyelash through my tightly shut mouth. And when I catch myself its not like I can just instantly tell myself to stop doing it. The process to get my jaw to relax and become unhinged is not as simple as you might think. Its like talking myself off of the Edge.

“Its Okay – let go, let your jaw drop, wag your tongue, – let go of that rope ” . ” Good Girl” – Relax. Breathe…… There you go…… Much Better….

Once my jaw has become unglued I will concentrate for maybe 5 minutes to keep my jaw nice and relaxed. Next thing I notice is that my shoulders are starting to tense up. Then I notice my teeth are hurting again because my Jaws have snapped back into the closed position. Holy Crap – how did that all happen in 15 minutes.

As much as I want to just lie on the couch, or sit in a boiling hot vat of water – I know that the only way to relieve some of this body stress is to exercise. I grab my gorgeous little dog and I say to myself – a nice long walk by the river front – that will ease the stress. And if you can run for a few kilometers – you will surely have the best sleep ever! Ha! Ya’ – that doesn’t work either.

Its all like a cruel joke.

I ponder the idea of acting young again. Buying a bottle of wine – having a nice big glass – or even the whole bottle. Maybe that would put me to sleep. But I cannot do that because whenever I used to drink – I would smoke cigarettes. Lots and lots of cigarettes.( I know – its gross) I seriously never ever want to smoke again – and I know damn well that as soon as I have a glass of wine in my hand – I will think I am entitled to have a cigarette. I really cannot trust myself – how pathetic is that.

You know – “Back in the Day” (this phrase in itself tells everyone you are getting old.) – – – Anyhow – Yes – Back in the day, I could drink, smoke, party, eat all kinds of garbage, and I did not want to sleep. I did not need to sleep. But I could. When I was ready to lay my young body down for a rest – I slept like a baby. Anytime – anywhere.

I don’t want my youth back – I really really don’t. I don’t want to smoke, or drink, or party –

All I really really want is just some sleep. Anytime – Anywhere…..