Sunday evening. Time to snuggle in by the fireside, and build ourselves up for another week darlings. Stir up a steamy, rich, cup of cocoa and set your intentions on self-care and joy. You and I definitely will not be broken….
Today, let’s just try to enjoy this. Whatever this is at any given moment anyway. That’s my list for today; enjoy today.
I woke up disappointed, let down, fed up with fair-weather friends, broken promises, and a dripping kitchen tap that was supposed to be repaired yesterday.
Sometimes I need to slow down, get that little tiger of irritation settled down that has awoken and makes me growly. Sometimes I need to just remember the little things I take for granted. Sometimes I need a big ol’ handsome man to give me a hug, settle in with a cup of tea, and dream with me.
Since that likely isn’t in the cards, I will go out into the world today with a list of things to enjoy.
My Wednesday To-Do List…
1) Enjoy my long drive to my first appointment. Enjoy the solitude, the jazz on my favourite station, and the sunshine.
2) Revel in the feeling, and the sound of the fallen leaves under foot during my evening walk. I have the most beautiful little trail at my backdoor which is covered in leaves.
3) Take comfort in the company of my wonderful colleagues.
4) Remember how lucky I am to have a fireplace. Enjoy the warm glow of the fire while I nestle in to read before bed.
5) Listen to my kiddo. Be thankful I have a healthy, wonderful child who is always up-beat.
6) Try to wipe out my negative self talk, and be thankful I’m as strong as I am.
7) The feel of my lined suit jacket. In this weather, it feels warm and soft against my skin.
8) Enjoy the anticipation of cooking a homemade meal after work. There’s nothing like trying a new recipe, and settling in to something delicious on a chilly autumn day.
9) Be thankful that I have some solitude to wrestle with my demons. Some folks have to duke this psychic junk out with no quiet time.
10) Surrender, or at least loosen my grip, and enjoy knowing I’m a better person than I was a year ago.
Wishing you a day filled with sunshine of the soul my darlings.
Some are kudos, some are criticism, and some are dear women and men asking for the fabulous advice I tend to dish out here in my own cozy corner of cyperspace.
Tune in Tuesday October 22 between 10pm and 11pm, to CIUT 89.5fm HOWL Radio to hear my second interview with host Nik Beat.
Call in, comment, have your questions forwarded to me….
Canada and the United States have flirted, used, abused, supported and stabbed one another in the back throughout the years.
We have a love/hate relationship. Americans like having neighbours who spell properly, and smile a lot.
Canadians like the sunny south and football. Perhaps we could also throw in the Rose Bowl parade, you know, just to make our American neighbours feel good.
It’s nice being neighbourly with the big guy on the block. Well, it used to be. The other global-guys are hitting their growth spurt, and the big guy isn’t so big any more. In fact, his fat-cat ways are catching up, and, I hate to mention it, but he’s grown quite an economic disaster of a muffin-top. A grand example of a sugar-daddy whose looks have slipped, and whose wallet isn’t fat enough.
This week, Diane Francis’s Merger of the Century was reviewed in the Toronto Star. She argues, apparently pretty convincingly too, that should Canada and the United States jump the broom, both nations would stand to benefit.
To summarize, should this little marriage of two socially opposite neighbours happen, it would create an economy larger than the combined economic sway of China, Japan, France and Germany.
Francis describes our Canadian resources as, ‘mindboggling’. Trillions and trillions of dollars worth actually. I don’t think the average Canadian needs to read her book to understand just how rich we are. We may have to point out that our resources are in great, imminent danger of being destroyed by greedy BIG BUSINESS. The very same big business that almost bankrupted North America in 2008. Yes, the very same big business that gobbled up the bail-out and learned absolutely nothing about innovation, or the fall-out of greed.
Beyond our plethora of resources, Francis also sings the praises of our banking system, sophisticated social values, educations system (If ours is good, I shudder to think about the American system), and ‘law-abiding people’.
I would like to point out, that these are also precisely the reasons that intelligent Canadians would never wish to be more economically tangled with the United States than we are already obliged to be by virtue of our proximity. Should a merger happen, it would leave the social, political and economic landscape of Canada a no-man’s land.
Much like the cover of the book that has our Canadian Maple Leaf gobbled up in the design of the famous stars and stripes, our social identity would be lost to the machine of capitalist greed, minus our so hard-won social system. In short, the big guy needs us now that the folly of his ways has seen the light of day. The tough guy is looking to someone to clean up his mess.
Go ahead, take Francis’s argument for a ride, but be sure to read the other sides of the argument; Fire and Ice, and Death of the Liberal Class. After all, you want a clear picture of just how very different our cultures are.
The reading may also inspire you to articulate our distinctly Canadian values in the face of the political shit-show that will surely be our next federal election.
Fracking? Pipelines? Bureaucratic Elitism? GMO farming and antibiotic infused livestock? Yes, we do have some rather overwhelming issues to tend to in our very own maple-syrup rich backyard, but we’d have a heck of a lot more problems if we get distracted by a big, shiny, diamond engagement ring from the USA.
Sometimes you just have to rough it a bit. You know, stop indulging in bubbly and scotch and take care of your bodacious, body.
This Sunday, have your guy grill up something yummy on the barbeque. Try salmon or squid, or some such loveliness from the sea. Pair it with this very tasty veggie, and your engine will be fuelled for a night of snuggling in by the fire and watching the game.
Best Broccoli Ever
2 heads of broccoli
2 cloves of garlic, crushed ( You can get lovely fresh garlic at the markets)
2 Tbsp butter
Salt & Pepper to taste
Toss all of the ingredients together in a glass baking dish until they are well combined.
Ccover with foil, and bake for 20 minutes at 350. Deee-lish!
For a relaxing clean up, I suggest splitting a chilled bottle of Jacob’s Creek Moscato, and doing a little dirty dancing in the kitchen to this old, but not forgotten song….
It’s true, that oh-so-wonderful day is approaching! Yes, yes, it’s true, I’ve almost made it through another year.
Most ladies-of-a-certain-age like to keep their BIRTHDAY on the down-low, you know, keep it quiet so they can go home and weep tears of pity into a bathtub full of half-popped bubbles.
But not me. No sirree.
You see, I’ve earned every single wrinkle, dimple, roll and jiggle that defines this body and soul of mine, and every year, I like to celebrate.
This is the year before the “BIG” birthday, you know, a number that ends with a ‘0’. I figure I need to celebrate this year to practice for the big one next year. That makes sense right?
My birthday is NOT a birthday without cake. I like my cake like I like my men, deep, dark, and a just slightly more than I can handle.
Although I have earned my seniority in this career of life, I still feel like there’s so much more to learn and to be.
If you’ve been following along this year, you’ll know I had some pretty grand New Year’s Resolutions. I’ve accomplished two of four, and those were no small victories, let me tell you that!
There are two more goals I would like to reach; one I have control over, and the other, well, let’s just say that Venus, Cupid and Aphrodite had better get on the stick!
As far as birthday wishes….hmm, well, I have been crowned a “Hallmark Whore” by some of my less gentile pals. I do like the sentiment of a handwritten note, a well-chosen card, flowers, and phone calls….but don’t we all?
I was asked by the kiddo what I wanted this year, and I gave what I hope is a simple, inexpensive list.Most of all, I wish the total indulgence of spending time with the people I love; my kiddo, my mumster, my friends. Time…a commodity that has a mysterious limited quantity for each of us.
I do have one wish. One wish I have always thought was a very selfish wish. Maybe I’ll take a chance this year and tack it onto the standard wish I wish for every year. You know, the wish you always make because you’d feel guilty if I wished for anything else.
As I’ve aged (and aged extremely well don’t you know), I’ve come to a sure and certain knowledge deep down in my sparkly little heart – it’s not a selfish wish after all. It’s something we all wish for.
But that’s something deeply personal. One of my besties may be able to wring it out of me. ONLY if they bring cake and drink enough champagne to loosen the tight lock that’s rusted to my ego.
It’s no secret that I like to celebrate and socialize with my happy face and party pants on. But buried underneath the smile and the party pants is a woman whose wants and needs are very simple, and as necessary to life as the cake, the champagne, and the friends with whom I share it.
Perhaps I shouldn’t say ‘anti-social’. Perhaps I should say…ok, let’s just go with anti-social.
I like to strike out daily as a little bit of fabulous, a little bit of intriguing intellectual, and a little bit curious cutie. I also like to think that I’m successful at some of these things.
None of these little quirks is an invitation to interruption, small talk, or other people who don’t have enough confidence to entertain themselves for the duration of a cup of coffee.
Today, I ventured into a coffee shop that, on a scale of one to ten, ranks at about an 8. That’s pretty good since I’ve yet to experience a 10. Even my favourite haunt in the city only ranks at 7. 7.5 on a good day when the nose-picking newspaper bin diver is absent.
With a seasonal menu that offered both pumpkin spice latte, pumpkin spice tea and apple pie tea latte as well as the standard Americano and espresso, I was overjoyed to find a table to myself.
The establishment, ‘The Socialist Pig’ is adjacent to a restaurant boasting simple yet gourmand fair. I opted for an apple pie tea latte and a glazed/fried tofu burger with spicy condiment, homemade roll, and grated carrots with a side of over-dressed salad.
Despite being rudely interrupted by an over-dressed housewife who could not entertain herself while her twin companion excused herself to the ‘powder room’, I had a lovely time.
This woman interrupted me mid-bite, pointing, with her bony finger within inches of my meal, “Do you mind me asking what it is you’re eating?”
I hope my eyes said it all, ” Yes. Yes I do you annoying social skin tag.”
Instead, I answered, “Tofu.” After all, she only had to look at a menu to deduce what it was that I’d filled my mouth with just as she felt the uncomfortable feeling of being alone. Poor darling.
She looked, and sounded like a previous colleague of mine who likely wouldn’t have touched a place like The Socialist Pig with a ‘barge-pole’. If only because the last known barge-pole was hung in the Antiquated and Annoying Sayings Hall of Fame three-freaking-centuries ago.
Mrs. Uncomfortable-in-her-own-skin then proceededto ask in her too-loud voice about where ‘you get your delicious coffee. “Concord,” was the answer. Mrs. Uncomfortable’s response made me choke on my pretentious, but oh-so-freaking-delicious burger-sandwich; “Oh, so it’s locally grown.”
Are you serious?! Yes, I imagine you glorious twit, that the coffee beans were grown right in the middle of corn, beans and squash on the local reserve. Sweet love of Jesus, where do these people come from?
After a very long stretch of days on end working a job that I really do love, I crave the company of one of two types of people; the introvert, or the intellectual of carefully chosen vocabulary. Today I shared the company of neither, which is a lovey third option, minus the universal hiccup of she-who-thinks coffee grows in the Eastern Ontario wild.
If you ever have the good fortune to travel to Gananoque, I do suggest a visit to The Socialist PIg. Try the coffee, try the tea, but if you see a woman with dark-rimmed glasses sipping her tea quietly while reading the Globe and Mail, keep your socially-anxiety-provoked-silly questions to yourself. Unless….
You’re a single male between the ages of whatever and whatever with something interesting to talk about, and a sailboat moored at the end of the street on the St. Lawrence.
Last night, as we stepped out onto a quiet street, the streets and sidewalks littered with dry fallen leaves, the strong scent of autumn’s riches reminded me of all of the blessings in my life for which to be thankful. City living dulls the splendor of the changing seasons.
After rolling with the bumper-to-bumper traffic that defines the GTA during long weekend commutes, we finally found the open road, serenaded by Dr. Hook and our own voices raised in silly song.
As much as I love the night time lights of the city, especially on cold nights, when the lights shine more brightly, and the darkness is more intense, there’s something about simple, small town living that takes you back to yourself.
As I nestle in at a centuries old Bed & Breakfast, tour the town, and stroll along the St. Lawrence river, the stress of every day escapes my body. The sunlight, the changing colour of the leaves, and the clear chime of church bells that mark the hour to the clouds help to quiet my busy thoughts.
Three quarters of the year have passed. My 2013 wishlist is well on the way to being complete, thanks to hard work, and the determination to look to the future and not to the past.
In the garden, beside the pond, we sipped Moscato perched on comfy lounge chairs that rest on a stone path. We watched the water fountain trickle onto the happy tongue of Chloe the Great Dane, while her partner Roxy the Jack Russell wagged her tail on the cobblestone wall, and barked at wild things unseen.
Yes, these are moments that call for full presence (and more wine). For letting go, deep breathing, and looking to the future.
On the moonlit dock, a piper piped us into the sweet story of Saltwater Moon. How can a woman not be hopeful that perhaps love is just around the corner? The theatre entrance wound us down and around a wooden building until we were on the docks where sailboats were moored and moonlight glistened on the water. The piper piped the perimeter of the building, walking the length of the darkened dock, letting the wail of the pipes echo across the water, until the sound slipped away entirely, leaving small crowd in silence and then gathered us together in applause.
We strolled home, up the hill, with old stone churches and the swift St. Lawrence at our back.
You can’t help but romanticize what living here must be like. That is until you find out that the “Coolest Place In Town” turns out to be closed down, and you remember how wonderful it is to have access to arts and culture from around the world within a half an hour of home.
The night-time streets, but for a few dog walkers and late theater goers, were empty, and the evening mild enough to leave the door open as we settled down to read. A good friend, a good book, a beautifully decorated inn, and the windows open for fresh, night-time air….
Indeed I have much to be thankful for.
A girl has to let her hair down once in a while, or at least fluff it up to make her hard-working, professional self feel special, in that pink-is-my-favourite-colour-and-I-blush-at-curse-words kind of way.
Tonight I had the very good fortune of spending a few hours with my highly intelligent, bourbon-drinking, fellow writer and observer of life. We, as writers do, sat back and sipped our libations, observing other guests at the bar and making educated guesses about their relationships, sexual prowess, and professional pursuits.
I could tell you dear readers, about the gentleman whom I boldly approached at the end of the evening. Placing my palm on his back, I could feel the soft fabric of his cashmere shirt ( I had incorrectly thought it jersey knit from a distance), and the hard, solid body underneath.
I could tell you that my scotch-pal was a man of very little faith, and even hinted that my mischief mind insight a rather masculine ass-kicking.
I could also tell you that when I did approach the mystery man at the bar, his eyes met mine, and were the same shade of light blue. I could tell you that he had thin lips and a rather masculine frame.
With my hand on his back, and my friend looking on, I whispered in this stranger’s ear, ” I couldn’t help but notice you. I find you very intriguing.” To which his balding head turned, and his smile spread across his beer dampened lips. ” Was that your wife you were with earlier.”
He gave me a sly, I-know-how-to-pick-up-chicks-and-get-laid smile of confidence. “No,” he answered, “just a friend.”
“So that wasn’t your girlfriend,” I asked, hand still on his back, our eyes locked in half-inebriated-Friday-night-hunger.
I slipped a note with my fake name and fake number written on it, ” Call me tomorrow,” I said.
He turned to face me full-on, placed his hand on my arm, “But where are you going now Teri?”
I slipped from his touch and jabbered something about going somewhere else, and escaped the bar with my scotch drinking pal in hot pursuit.
Silly, I know. Pointless games and surmising? Yes. Immature? Perhaps. Memorable? Quite likely.
But isn’t that what life’s about my darlings? Just a little bit? Even if you’re all grown up with responsibilities and a serious career?
If you answered no, you are in need of serious inspiration to keep you young at heart.
At home, in the quiet of the midnight hour, I offer you these questions to ponder as whatever you sip warms the back of your palate.
Friday Evening Scotch Ponderings
1) Without googling it, what’s the difference between a cyclone and a hurricane?
2) Write a list of five sexy beasts who “make your pants wanna get up and dance”.
3) Why so some men dominate your time without any action? Yes, that’s right gentlemen, women need a little hoochie-coochie to keep them interested too. You only get a short probationary period to let us sample your skills, after that, it’s just a matter of deleting you from our iPhones. We have enough friends, what us single gals are after are highly skilled lovers.
4) If it weren’t for your intolerance of loud snoring and flatulence, would you be co-habitating by now?
5) Is there anything worse than a man who does not know the proper fellatio technique? Seriously, it’s irritating enough to cause fantasies of giving his melon a double knee crunch just to get him to stop.
6) Why are laid back men so damned hot? (I’ll help you with this one, “Because you can just saddle them up and they’ll do anything.”)
7) Why do our eyes lie to our hearts? For example, every shirtless fireman with a six-pack makes us glisten just a little bit in our girly bits, but when it comes to the nitty-gritty, the reality is, we’d rather have a hippie with a bit of a beer belly between the sheets, or a cuddly bald guy. Wait. Don’t answer that. We already know the answer….
8) If you don’t know the answer, you need a little more truth serum in your glass my cute little pumpkin pie. Just go back and refer to #6.
9) Who the hell thought to bake pumpkin guts in a pie shell anyway?
10) Same goes for stuffing bread, dried fruit and sausage up dead bird’s you-know-what.
With that, I wish you a happy, thoughtful, slightly inebriated start to our long, Canadian Thanksgiving weekend.
I know you’re out there, and more to the point I know who you are.
Yes, we bloggers love to analyze our stats; how many views we’ve had, how many visitors, which posts you peeked at, and which website you might ‘click’ through from.
Thank you for all of the attention you’ve given me. I’m flattered really. To think that someone I could care less about thinks enough to be voyeuristic into my writing life isn’t creepy at all. That’s sarcasm just in case you didn’t know that either.
At least dignify your regular, faithful, obsessive visits by subscribing to my fascinating blog.
One thought for blog stalkers who used to know me;
1) Bloggers embellish; ie. you know crap-all about me.
That is all blog-stalkers. You are dismissed.