Romance: The Thing that Haunts Us

addamsToday I teared up when a gal-pal of mine told me the lengths to which her true love goes to woo her. Romance is a lovely thing, and it makes my heart happy to hear that there are people out there who make the effort and take the risk.

When I hear love stories like this, it makes me dreamy and hopeful and a little jealous too. I mean, why isn’t my guy like that? Ah, yes, the WHY’s always haunt us.

The truth is that each and every relationship is unique with benefits and drawbacks, and a one-of-a-kind intimate alchemy that cannot be distilled by anyone else. Truth be told, they can’t even be distilled by the people in them. C’est la vie.

Why did you fall in love? Often, and in the best relationships, it’s inexplicable. It’s a je ne sais quoi that cannot be expressed in language. It’s all a matter of the heart.

Romance is emotional not logical, so it’s hard to explain the importance of it to someone who prizes logic over emotion. Logic is safe (it’s black and white after all, and our brains love to neatly categorize), but what makes us human (our ability to feel) is the drive behind it all. So, in my case, my man isn’t great in the romance department, but he’s wonderful in other ways. And yes, the things that I adore about him are also the things that could potentially find me sporting  an orange onesie. This is a universal truth.

A hard lesson that I’ve learned is that romance and true love are two very different things. Ah, now there’s the rub darlings.

True love breeds romance, and romance alone eludes true love. I’m a true romantic, and I like to think that there’s a balance between people like me, and people like my guy.

If you are with Mr. or Mrs. Romance, enjoy every second. If you are not, don’t let it haunt you. You will never know WHY or WHY NOT. Rest assured; it has nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with an individual being vulnerable enough to play, to open their heart, and to be tender.


 

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Taking The Plunge: Are You Ready

I’m poised at the top of the high-diving board, toes gripping the edge, face forward, not looking down, but focused straight ahead. I steady my breathing, push down with the weight of my body and leap into nothingness making what could be a tragedy, look elegant and beautiful.

jumping-off-cliffsMost significant accomplishments take commitment. Making them a priority means letting some other things slide. Like writing a book, building, maintaining or repairing relationships, or even washing the floor.

Time is precious, and if you’re doing one thing, it means you’r not doing another.

So, the last time I wrote a book, I waived an excited bon voyage to you my darlings, took a blogging sabbatical, and wrote like a fiend.

I think it may be time again. Time to quit procrastinating, worrying about the time I take from other parts of my life, and put skin-to-the-keys as it were.

The only problem is, that the last time I was excited. I was confident, and I had a head full of ideas.

This time I’m not a novel-writing-virgin. I know the blood, sweat and tears frustration that comes with tearing myself away from re-reading and over-editing. Not to mention my editor did die during the editing of my last book .

I will let you know when I get ready to jump. Any encouragement before then is welcome.

Bawl, Bath, Bed…

bathcryingSometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve been carrying until you stop to take a rest.

And sometimes when you realize the toll it’s taken, it makes you miss who you used to be. It makes you miss feeling adored, safe and cared for.

If you too are feeling unloved, untouched and alone, remember, a good bawl, bath and early to bed sometimes does the trick.

If not, repeat as often as needed.

Good night. Sweetest of dreams…xo

CPR: Creativity Promise Reboot

domoreOh my gawd!!!

Sometimes pithy little sayings are the eyeroll that I need. Yes, I hate to admit it, but it’s true.

This morning I read something about how many people succeed at what they dream of doing and how many don’t. Basically the gist of it was most people won’t do the hard work so they fail.

 

 

 

I prefer something a little more gentle;

successandfailure

 

I have yet to self-publish my thousand-year-old novel, and I have a head full of characters clawing at my brain to communicate with my fingertips to get it all down on paper. It’s time to get this second book out of my mind and onto the page.

…and so it is time to breath some life into my creativity. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.

It’s time.

A little reminder to every creative artist out there; just breathe.

The Incredible Lightness of Kicking it to the Curb

suitcasesI’ve been talking about decluttering for a year.

Yes, talking about it, giving it lip service, and finding a zillion ways to sabotage any time I have  to do it.

Well, it’s time.

As I said to someone last night, I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. By that I mean the hamster-on-the-day-to-day-grind-wheel-without-seeing-any-results. I haven’t seen that light in a very, very long time, and I’m kinda diggin’ it.

That means that I will likely be packing up and clearing out soon in order to unpack and settle in somewhere else. I’m nothing if not a lazy mover, so that means, anything not worth lifting has got to go.

This time I will not move an appliance box full of stiletto heels or a giant box of office supplies. I’m too old for that shit darlings.

I have reams of untested recipes, a giant box of hair accessories from the 90’s, and a drawer full of frilly bits that haven’t seen the light of day since three lovers ago. I have photo albums that are ready for the fire after a I take out a picture or two. My writing drawer has morphed into a bottomless trinket trunk, with old ear plugs, book marks, playing cards, love notes and an assortment of massage oils that I’m sure went rancid six years ago. Time to bundle it up and wave a giddy bon-voyage.

But there’s lots to do before I close my little apartment door for the last time and put out the last fire in our cozy fireplace. Like make a copy of all the marks on the side of the kitchen doorway that recorded my kiddo’s growth. I also have to catch the one cat who will not be touched, and bundle up my Hallowe’en and Chistmas decorations.

Right now I’m going to forget about cancelling my cable, changing my phone number and coming up with the extra cash I know that I’ll need to make a new place home. I’m going to forget about not knowing where the libray is, or the gym, or have a routine for picking up my groceries or a quick take-out dinner. I’m going to forget about the comfort of living in the city and being surrounded by people 24 hours a day.

Right now, I’m just going to dream about what I want. I’m going to inquire and talk to people about what’s next, and hopefully put enough good stuff out there, that it comes back in the form of a new way to pay the bills, a new place to live, and new people to have adventures with as I move to stay closer to the people I love.

But first, I need boxes. And a rainy weekend or two to clear it all out…

 

 

Change: Looking Forward to the Unknown

not-all-those-who-wander-are-lostA rogue wind gust smashes through the window and sucks the ashes of her ancestors from their urn, scattering them back out across the vast, midnight landscape…and so the protagonist knows that finally she is home.

Sounds delightful doesn’t it? Knowing that you are home. Forever. Where you are meant to be.

Actually, I find it a bit terrifying. I know better. I’ve witnessed it thousands of times; people who think that life will never change.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt that forever-at-home feeling.

Perhaps I should elaborate; I feel at home everywhere and nowhere. I have a gypsy soul and have a tendency to want to wander. I’ve lived close to the bone, just surviving with enough, and according to the stages of my life; student, young wife, mother, mother of a teenager…and soon, just me again.

This past year has been a combination of settling in and hurrying up to wait. And it’s killing me. Seriously, I am not a patient woman.

I am decisive and spontaneous, and quite frankly sick of the daily, commuting-to-barely-pay-the-bills-soul-sucking-grind. In light of not having a partner in adventure to plan the next grand project, place or party, I’m preparing to pack up my parlour and part. But all in good time.

As my Mumster would say,

My body is still here, but my spirit has moved on.

I get what she means. I’m restless and dreaming, and just fed up enough not to be nervous, which actually does make me a little nervous.

To anyone out there who thinks things don’t change, don’t kid yourself. To those of you who have a spirit of adventure, I wish you speedy decluttering, friends to help you unpack and courage.

 

Love & Other Fragile Things

birdbranchYou know that I’m writing this for you, right?

The woman who’s just had the news that her husband isn’t ‘in love’ with her any more. Maybe it was your wife, or your partner…whatever. It’s all the same soul-crushing-crashing-everything-to-a-halt-breath-stealing-change. And it hurts. Bad.

And it scares the hell out of you.

Trust me, I know. I’ve been there. But here I am, 17  years single, and not a-crazy-old-cat-lady…yet.

There will be times that you despair, and feel loneliness deep in your bones. You will lose sleep over how you will pay the bills, tell the kids, manage holidays, and ever manage to open yourself up to the wonder of everything that once brought you joy. But you will darling. I promise.

Your sense of self, your home, your routines, your comfort zone – these things make you fragile my sweet.

But you will crawl out of all of this muck. You will be a polished, shining, more resilient version of yourself. You will be more wise. You will appreciate the little things. And you will laugh from your belly.

You will also wonder what the hell you were so upset about in the first place. There’s a lot of energy that goes into loving someone – I mean really, feet-on-the-ground-all-hands-on-deck-loving, or as some people call it – active loving. You likely spent a lot of time doing stuff for your partner; maybe you cooked, did the laundry, maintained the vehicles, did the lion’s share of maintaining the kids, your family holidays, etc., etc.  If you’re like me, you put your own timeline and the little things that bring you joy  second to the priorities of your partner; boys’ nights, golf, their fitness and waking time preferences.

At first, time on your own will feel like a long rest after a marathon, and then it will feel eerily quiet. What will you ever do with this landscape of barren time?

Let me give you a few suggestions; pedicures, concerts, art galleries, boozy lunches with the gals, discovering favourite shops, more time with your kiddos, a bed all to yourself or not, reconnecting with friends, and eventually rediscovering the joy of  being treated like the precious gem that you are.

Love is fragile, but so is our sense of self.  As a woman who has had the luxury of time alone, I realize the cost of independence and the price of nurturing another. Love is fragile, Time is fleeting.

Lean on your friends. We will remind you of the fabulous person you have always been, even in the shadow of heartache.

 

 

 

A Natural Lush Muses on Muscle

reclining-goddessBy nature I am voluptuous both in body and soul.

I could think of no better occupation than striking a sideways reclining position on a well-cushioned chaise  while holding court with artists and intellectuals. Dressed in something flowing, yet revealing (likely a deep red or aubergine with gold glitter somewhere near the valley of all that god-gave-me), and drinking a chewy red with a long finish…think California meets Plato darlings.

Alas I must actually work. In a suit that makes me look like a Russian prison guard from the 1920’s.

Which means I also must work-out, if I’m to have any figure at all, and remain somewhat psychologically in tact.

I spoke with a friend of mine who is wonderful, outgoing, and joyful. She told me that her social anxiety is building, and going out in a crowd, let alone going out in a crowd that is sweating in body hugging clothing is impossible for her.

Ladies, I know you are out there. I know that you dread the same things that we do. Do not let it stop you. The endorphins – you need them. The friends you make there – you need them. Sure, it comes slowly, and you’ll have embarrassing moments, but we all do.

Get yourself an outfit that works. You may not feel fabulous, but functional is all we can ask for some days. Pick up a 365 motivational book and read it. Celebrate your body for all that it has carried you through, and give it some love in return.

After hitting bottom recently,  I dragged my bottom back to the gym. And I’m loving it. No, it’s not a joke, and no, I don’t strike a Socratian pose on a mat and sneak wine in my plastic sippy cup for adults while ogling the man-steak. I actually sweat and make a tiny effort.

Today, after my little perspire-a-thon, I relaxed onto the floor to do my stretching, which, incidentally is my very favourite part of the whole gym thing. I then made my merry way back to the change room to disrobe of my sweaty gym stuff and pile on a plush towel for the basking-in-the-heat-of-the-sauna portion of my strict physical regime.

Finally, and without a grand show of nipple or jiggle, my favourite white sports bra gave up the ghost. Not having it let loose on the gym floor, or while I was doing my back extensions was a small miracle, but one that I appreciate very much.  I’m also kinda happy that I actually used the damn thing and didn’t let it set in my drawer next to my unused boa and fishnet body stocking…but I digress...

Reading my magazine,wrapped in a cozy and colourful towel in the sauna, I sweat out the gunk and gave a quiet thank you to the universe. Thank you for providing a great facility so close to home. Thank you for new friends. Thank you for not letting the girls run free in public because of a wardrobe malfunction.

To celebrate? I’m going to stretch out in my sweats tonight, sip a glass or two of my favourite red, and muse poetically on…

 

 

 

 

Midnight Visits from the Ghost of Granny; Living with Intention & Gratitude

There were many nights that I used to get up in the middle of the night and see my Grandmother at the kitchen table.

I thought of her last night, when the rest of the world was in slumber. I know that  she had her own heartache and troubles, but she inspired me with her courage and zest for life.

Inspired by the woman who most inspired me, I have decided to go about my day with intention. Beyond the BIG things; my son and my home, there are little things that I am grateful for every day. So I give to you a list of things that make me happy/am grateful for, and I hope that it may inspire you.

  1. A good pair of tweezers. Oh yah baby. Women of a certain age can appreciate this as much as a man appreciates that little do-hickey end of a hair trimmer that removes ear hair. Sometimes it’s just the little things.

tweezers

2. The friends who love me. Like really love me, and manage to keep the flame of silliness burning alive and well within me. You know who you are; The Lovely L., The Amazing C., The Rolicking R., The Daring D.,  the Mumster and the Fearlessly Creative C.

Sennett-Bathing-Beauties-1915_thumb

3. Creativity and the friends who value creativity as highly as I do…

drum beating

4. The legacy of a kick-ass granny, who knew how to balance compassion and strength, especially on the days when you felt like giving up. Her fearlessness and curiosity always give me a kick in the bum.

grandmothers

5. Sports. For instance, this year, the Toronto Blue Jays are playing in the semi-finals. Sports give us something common to be emotionally invested in, talk about and bond over that isn’t too personal. Sports give us easy, enthusiastic conversation without the monotony of the curse of middle-age; talking about work, our failed marriages or how we still don’t have a clue what’s going on. Sports are highly under-rated.

octoberbaseball

6. Witnessing the evolving relationship of couples who love each other. They know the value of what it means to love when it’s easy, and when it needs to be fiercely fought for. Depth never came easy. Kuddos to my pals, the Kick-Ass Ms. K and the Debonair Mr. D. I admire your commitment to one another…

karen-and-dennis

7. Junk Food. Oh yah. The ultimate narcotic.

caramel-corn

8. My cleaning lady. Yes, my granny would swat me behind the ear for not cleaning my own house, but some things change.

cleaning-lady

9. Feeling motivated to get back to the gym. Anyone who is a little on the pudgy side knows the anxiety of being seen wearing spandex in public.

gym

 

10. Bread, blue cheese and red wine. Accompanied by thoughtful, fun and intelligent conversation makes it even more delicious…

glass-red-wine-blue-cheese-15246901

 

 

Turn Your Lights Down Low: Healing Your Heart

Love, it’s a flighty bird, but a beautiful one nonetheless.

May your love be greater than your fear. May you want it more than your ego needs to be seen. May you be brave enough to mend it after it’s been broken.