Andshelaughs · andshelaughs writing · Art of LIving · Creative Life · Fearless Living · Joyful Living · Life · Life Lessons · Lifestyle · Living · Meaning of Life · Middle Age · Midlife · Simple Living · Social Commentary · Spiritual Living · The Art of Living · Uncategorized · Whole Living

Don’t Make Me Break Out My Mom Voice

giphy-1If you don’t know me, they refer to me as Mrs. Doubtfire at work.  I’m not as old as Mrs. Doubtfire, but we have the same boobs and demeanour.

I prefer to be kind and sweet and doting even, but don’t mess with me. I’m one mother of a tough broad, and I’m not afraid to let you know that, in a very kind, diplomatic way. In other words, I’m very good at the subtle, ‘fuck-off’, and not shy about the not-so-subtle.

Which brings me to my current state of being; extremely tired of being a whipping post for other people’s problems.

Which is draining. I no  longer want to be subtle about the fuck off. Nor do I want to be having to deal with anyone’s el poopo. I’m too old for that.

What I really want is to go about my business in a conscious way with other people who are doing the same. As one care provider who comes into our home put it, “Don’t get old and grouchy”.

I want to get old and more giddy, giggly, hippie-like in my approach, and perhaps even increase my alcohol  and muscular flexibility tolerance. It may seem like one goal is not compatible with the other, but I disagree.  Lower inhibitions and increased relaxation should surely result in a more yoga-like groove.

Also, I’m looking for a small camper van that I can paint lemon-yellow and pack full with a duvet, some good books, tea, red wine, some Jameson Whiskey, and a bottle of good bourbon. You know, for the nights you want to feel like you’re dying. Also there should be ibuprofen. I’ll call the camper Mellow Yellow and make use of the horn.

If you inspire me to feel like you’re putting me on the spot, or making me feel uncomfortable because you’re being an asshole, I will unleash the Mrs. Doubtfire fire, and quite frankly, that takes way more energy than I want to expend on you. Not only will I be annoyed, but I will be verbally annoyed.

Going forward, let’s all approach one another as if we’ve just come from the worst berating ever, shall we? Perhaps some gentleness, kindness, and common, public courtesy.

We are, as the old saying goes, all fighting battles that others cannot see.

Advice for Writers · Andshelaughs · Canadian Writers · Midlife · NaNoWriMo · Opinion · Perspective · Uncategorized · Writers

How Being a Gen-Xer Benefits Janu-Edit

Janu-Edit is a month long edit-fest, and I’m totally into it. Hell, my generation of 90’s coffee slurping pseudo-BA-educated, blazer and scarf wearing peers practically set us all up with the perfect place to write and edit.

I’m into Janu-Edit  because I have a brand spanking new first draft of a novel that needs some…tweaking before I send it out for real editing.  By someone who hasn’t lived through the hundreds of pages agonizingly trying to squeeze out an outline without getting lost in the novelists world that characters create in their head.

My favourite place to write has always, hands down, been a busy corner of one of many Starbucks locations tucked safely inside of a Chapters or Indigo. With so much condescending talk about Millennials, we’ve forgotten about my generation – the Gen-Xers. We are the reason that pretentious, over-priced coffee houses who allow you to sit and use their space for free (other than buying the coffee and mass produced pastry), exist.

For the past number of weeks I have been bound to the house, hours out are a precious commodity, and as my time as a caregiver comes to an end, I feel the need for a change of scenery, for a uplifting events, and kindred exchanges of friendship.

Today I escaped to begin the arduous process of picking through my first draft. During a ‘happy new year’ phone call to a jaded pal, she proclaimed that her new year’s eve inspired  the conclusion that, as she so delicately phrased it, “all men are shit.” Quite a conclusion to clear the path for a fresh, new year.

Don’t worry darlings, I didn’t forget where I was going with this post. I wrote the last two paragraphs to tell you this;

My coffee shop escapes are a rich resource for character development.

Once I settle in connected to power, wifi, and caffeine, I generally can sit for hours, only getting up and purchasing the obligatory coffee every hour or so in order not to become a parasite. While perched at my window seat (my favourite place to write, sip and observe), my gaze followed a middle-aged man who strolled in through Starbucks and went straight for the magazine rack.

Would this man be aware of my friend let’s say, eyeballing him with abject hatred, because he was a man? The grey hair on his head was balding. He sported  undone work boots, blue jeans (clean, and in a traditional dad cut that left all manner of physique to the imagination), and an orange construction coat with the reflective yellow X on the back.

This isn’t the kind of guy who buys six dollar coffee. And he certainly wasn’t the type of man who automatically strolls over to the copy of Birds and Blooms on the magazine rack. Not if you’re thinking in stereotypes. Stereotypes alone can only get a writer so far, and then you need real character. You see, real people (just like characters) have all sorts of quirks and habits that need to be worked out, and often times these quirks come out only as authors write them into situations where they are interacting with other characters, or even more interestingly, with only themselves.

Pausing to look up at the world that’s going on in that little microcosm of a literary coffee shop inspires character, and the coffee caffeinates. Coffee culture has always been alive and well throughout the world, bringing friends together and demanding space to generate ideas. In my little corner of Canada, Gen-Xers breathed new life into the coffee shops that are home to so many artists and writers.

sweater and scarfThis month I’m on a roll, feeling right at home curled up in my stereotypical cozy sweater and scarf, sipping a latte, or herbal tea, and looking very serious about what I’m working on.  Janu-Edit doesn’t stand a chance against this stereotype, I just hope my quirks don’t get in the way.

Art of LIving · Fearless Living · Girl Stuff · Graceful Living · Gracious Living · Health · Healthy Living · Joyful Living · Lean In Girl Stuff · Living · Meaning of Life · Men's Health · Mental Health · Middle Age · Mindful Living · Sexual Health · Simple Living · Spiritual Living · The Art of Living · Uncategorized · Whole Living · Women's Issues · Women's Issues · Yoga

The Downward-Dog-In-Heat Down-Low

make time for yourselfI’m going to answer your burning questions about my introduction to hot yoga; yes, I survived.

That in itself is success.

In an attempt to come up with some sort of healthy schedule in light of my new empty nest status, I have signed up for a month of hot yoga, hoping that I love it enough to make it a habit.

Empty-nesting has left a hole in my life where all of  my put-off self care needs to go.

So, I started at my local yoga place. The greeting at the door at Moksha Yoga was not a spiritual-community-greeting.  It was extremely clear that the sinewy, dewy-faced, blonde-haired  twenty something behind the counter was running a business.   After years of meditation practice, temple visits (and spa visits…), I get it.

Although I arrived very early, she was all about the rules. I might suggest that for identified first-time visitors, that business warm up their hellos. I’m pretty outgoing, so it didn’t deter me, but for others who are coming in,  carrying more anxiety and fear, it would certainly make the experience much more attractive.

A few folks that I know helped me choose an outfit that would not be sloppy and inhibit my movements; a sports bra, tank and pair of yoga pants. I took two towels, a water bottle, and rented a mat as I tossed my old one during my recent move. AmazonPrime will save me within 36 hours with a new one.

Hair: the bain of my feminine existence. I clipped my naturally ringlet tight curls up and added a sports band for good measure. After class I looked like I was making a  half-assed attempt at blonde dreadlocks but, whatever.

joy in livingThe class slowly filled in at the last minute, and I eased back into my position on the mat which I hadn’t made time for in at least five years.

It was hot, and I was wise choosing a reduced-heat class. I survived, and felt refreshed at the end of class. Even joyful.

I will be back.