Archive for the 'Splurges' Category

Planetary Ass Kicking

Wednesday, April 20th, 2011

A friend told me about an astrologer who is also a reiki master and Jungian therapist who was supposed to be mind blowing. I was intrigued and decided to book a reading. I was hoping for some insight into my ongoing midlife crisis. Perhaps it was time for the planets to guide me.

Before my reading I needed to provide my time of birth. This always brings up the question of whether I am adopted. My parents are very vague about my birth time, which I find highly suspicious.

“How can you not remember?” I whine whenever the topic comes up.

“Well, it was a long time ago,” my mother replies.

“Yeah, a really, really long time ago,” my dad quips.

“But what could have been more significant? All parents remember their child’s birth.”

They remember my sister’s time of birth. It is clearly marked in her baby book, along with the requisite lock of fine baby hair. I don’t even have a baby book. There are countless photo albums documenting my sister’s every waking and sleeping moment as a baby. There are few snapshots of me, although in my parents’ defense, I was an ugly baby. I was bald until I was two with a very sour face, and spent most of my infancy looking like an angry old man in a pink bonnet.

“Well do you remember whether it  was day, night, afternoon?” I pout.

“Hmmm, sometime in the evening I think,” my mom muses.

“No it was morning because remember you had a doctor’s appointment in the morning and then you went straight to the hospital,” my dad replies.

“So are we talking lunch?”

“No not lunch. Lets say two!” my mom suggests brightly.

When I arrived for my reading my friend the organizer raised her eyebrows.

“Whoa. I don’t know what is in your chart, but yours is the only one that Martin commented about. He said your chart is craaaazy.”

According to Martin I am in for a planetary ass whooping, and I know Martin wouldn’t lie. I was hanging on his every word. He was a soothsayer prophet who had me figured out with a few lines on a chart. Apparently, if I don’t start moving forward with my life, I will miss the boat and be generally screwed.

I immediately felt my anxiety level rise.

“I’m not usually this much of a hard ass,” Martin explained, “but you have to do something. This will either be a huge transformative time or you will completely fizzle and won’t get this chance again. If you don’t get it together there will be a whole lot of conflict.”

“Like the shit’s going to hit the fan?” I asked, gulping.

“Honey, the shit is already flying,” he replied, “you’d better start shoveling.”

Yikes. Now I was afraid.

“How was it?” The Sweetie asked when I returned home. He is a huge skeptic of all things new agey and has a hard time suppressing his eye rolls.

“Martin was amazing,” I gushed, “He was so on, he actually made me cry.”

“He made you cry? That isn’t exactly a huge accomplishment,” The Sweetie smirked.

Well.

Obviously the planetary conflict has already begun.

New Kitty House

Thursday, March 3rd, 2011

My cat is housebound and bored. An unfortunate run-in with a raccoon a couple of years ago left him blind in one eye and ended his days as a free wheeling outdoor kitty. Since then he spends his days perched on a windowsill swishing his tail and glaring at me with his one good eye. He has revenge on his mind and dreams of tracking down that bastard raccoon and finishing him off. I know he would then return and do me in me as well, since he considers me the sole obstacle between him and The Sweetie, his one true love. I have bought him assorted toys, tried to engage him in games of tag and offered him new crunchy treats, all to no avail. Despite his plots for my untimely end, I can’t help it, I love the cranky little fellow.

When I saw this incredible house from Montreal design company Loyal Luxe, I knew I had to order it for my furry problem child. His confinement to the indoors may be more bearable if he can retreat to his own cool guy pad, tricked out with Canadiana moose antlers. This may be just the thing to brighten his day. Every kitty needs privacy for his dark thoughts, a place to call his own where he can relax in style and dream of vengeance.

Rationale for my New Necklace

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

I saw this sweet necklace by a Toronto artisan and instantly and conveniently forgot about the August shopping ban I had imposed on myself.

I rationalized that much of the ban had to do with my avoidance of anything pertaining to autumn. I do not want to see itchy wool sweaters or heavy clothing so a shopping ban felt timely. This necklace, though, looks light as air, positively spring-like in fact.

Besides being local, light and lovely, the necklace also features rose quartz. I have been a big fan of rose quartz ever since I learned that it’s the love crystal. It is the feel-good-unconditional-love-vibes-for-all talisman.

I already have a fabulous rose quartz necklace that makes me feel like a new age Wilma Flintstone.

Sometimes, however, it feels too heavy and clunky around my neck. I don’t want to feel burdened and weighed down by too much unconditional love, now do I? This new necklace will be light and easy to manage and will still send out the love vibes.

Of course, I recognize that all of this is a cheap rationalization to justify my uncontrollable consumption and impulsiveness. I don’t really need a new necklace. I certainly don’t need an amulet for protection against critics but considering my recent defending my life rampage, it couldn’t hurt. Perhaps this is why athletes wear the same underwear for an important game and business executives have their power suits. Sometimes we need a physical representation of our inner desires or something tangible to cling to when things feel chaotic. We all need a life preserver now and then, a set of water wings in a prettier and less bulky package. I shouldn’t need to depend on a crystal for some gentle loving compassion but sometimes the days can be dark, the critics can be loud, and a sweet necklace may be just the touchstone I need.

Birds of a Feather

Thursday, July 15th, 2010

I have a new necklace.

The lovely and talented Amy at Smitten Kitten is the perfect model for her own works. I saw her last week wearing one of her creations and instantly decided that I needed to be just like her. What I really wanted was her entire ensemble down to her lust-worthy Frye sandals. Luckily she has dainty feet, otherwise I would have had to jump her and nab her shoes. I settled for buying the necklace and I have been merrily wearing it ever since. I love a good dose of gilded nature.

Is is shallow that a new trinket makes me so happy? I guess I’m a very happy shallow girl. I have a gold feather around my neck and I think woodland creatures would approve.

An Open Letter to My Swedish Hasbeens

Tuesday, May 18th, 2010

Hi Swedish Hasbeens. You are not technically mine yet, but one day we will be together. Long after the trendy girls grow tired of you and toss you to the back of their closets, I will still be loving you. I have loved you forever. Maybe not your brand specifically, but I have had a long standing love of clogs since the 1970’s.

The clog seems to be the quintessential seventies shoe. I love seventies shoes. I love wedges and platforms and clunky cork heels. Maybe it comes with having substantially sized feet. Sticking my big feet in a delicate shoe always strikes me as ridiculous, kind of like a giant man in a tiny car.

I know there were numerous fashion atrocities in the seventies. I am not awaiting the return of polyester leisure suits or mutton chop sideburns. I am highly disturbed by the current hipster trend of messy Grizzly Adams beards and porn star mustaches. I do, however, have a soft spot for some of the outlandish seventies looks. There’s an old photo of my family before a big night out. My dad is sporting a purple shirt with a huge collar and my mom is wearing a green caftan with wide sleeves and coordinating frosted green eyeshadow. My sister and I are in matching red bell-bottoms, white turtlenecks and red vinyl vests. We all look crazy, outrageous and entirely fabulous.

The only thing missing in my seventies childhood were a few choice fashion pieces. I always wanted a satin jacket so I could pretend I was in a girl gang. I always wanted hairy boots. My mom thought they were ridiculous and refused to indulge in Sasquatch footwear. My heart broke a little when the hairy boot trend came back a few years ago. I wanted a pair desperately, but I didn’t want to be a middle aged woman standing on a street corner next to a teenager with matching footwear. When I am eighty and the styles come around again I will get a pair of hairy boots and a satin jacket. At that point I won’t be a middle aged woman trying to recapture her youth. I will be an old crazy lady and I will flaunt my fashion choices with all my frail boned might.

I will not, however, wait for clogs until I am old and my ankles are unsteady. I will bide my time and when they go on sale we will be together. I will make a lot of noise when I walk and be transported back to the days of hearing Steely Dan in my mom’s Pinto, looking at her backcombed head from the backseat, when everything was hazy and dreamy the way it is in childhood, and I will rock my clogs like nobody’s business.

Pre Birthday Musings

Thursday, May 13th, 2010

Sometimes I question my path in life and still feel like an awkward tween even at the age of almost forty one. Sometimes it is hard to be an introvert in an extroverted world.

I think it may be my impending birthday. Birthdays have a way of making me want to take stock and look back on how I’ve grown and what, if anything, I’ve accomplished. I often compare myself to others and feel that I am lacking although I know that I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s. It’s strange that I can still make myself feel angst ridden when there is no angst to be had, question my choices and judge myself when there is no reason to judge. It is an adolescent habit I have yet to break.

No matter how old you get sometimes you still can’t outgrow yourself.

As an early birthday gift for myself, I am considering ordering these two lovely prints. There has to be room in this ambitious world for awkward retiring sorts who enjoy a nice furry pet, a bowl of snacks and quiet time.