Daily Affirmations

May 27th, 2010

Oh happy day.

I beat the garbage truck today. It is often a race against time to set out the bin before they reach our curb. Somehow The Sweetie and I always forget to take it out the night before, only to wake up to the sound of the truck as it lumbers past our empty curb, our trash left to fester for another two weeks. I am often running out in my pajamas crying “wait! wait!”, only to have the truck whiz past me, the garbage guys sneering and victorious. Not today garbage guys! Not today. With The Sweetie cheering me on in his boxer shorts and the truck rumbling one house away, I dashed out with my hair still dripping from the shower in half pulled on track pants. I did a victory leap on the driveway seconds before the disgruntled garbage guys pulled up. A small triumph to start the morning off right.

Then I saw this on the Bust website. I would like to start all of my mornings feeling like this.

It is going to be a good day.

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Victoria Day Atonement

May 25th, 2010

It is the first long weekend of the summer, and Toronto has it’s first heat advisory of the season. It may seem a little unusual then, that I would be spending the day cooking dishes featuring hearty root vegetables: Spanish potatoes, barley and split pea stew.

My sister was aghast when I spoke to her on the phone, “Isn’t it 100 degrees in Toronto today? Who the hell eats stew in the summer?”

The truth is, I’m doing penance for sins committed at my birthday dinner.

Years ago I gave up eating meat. It just felt right to me. I call it my no cute law, and declared that I would no longer eat anything cute. I can’t take a high and mighty stance because I still wear leather shoes, eat honey and don’t believe the bees are being exploited, and I do enjoy seafood from time to time. Lately, however, fish have been looking cute to me. I was contemplating saying good bye.

Then The Sweetie and I went out for a posh dinner for my birthday. There were no vegetarian options so I ordered the sole. As the waiter presented my plate he began to explain how the fish was particularly special since it was frozen alive. The Sweetie quickly cut him off, “That isn’t a selling point for her, you’d better stop right there.”

All I could think of was the happily swimming fish, yanked from his watery home and frozen alive. I had visions of the scene from The Empire Strikes Back, when Han Solo is frozen in carbonite to be delivered to Jabba the Hut. I was Jabba, with that flicking lascivious tongue and lumpy body, waiting for my bounty to be delivered.

I was disturbed. You would think that such visions would be enough to diminish my appetite but I think the live freezing made my fish extra succulent. It was delicious.

Post birthday, I am back on the vegetarian train. I will cook my barley and potatoes over a hot stove during a heat wave and do my penance.

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Forty-One Thoughts about Turning 41

May 20th, 2010
  1. Feel relieved that I got turning 40 out of the way last year
  2. Start dreading turning 45
  3. Realize that I didn’t fulfill any of my secret plans for the year
  4. Rejoice that I didn’t share my secret list so that I don’t feel like an underachiever
  5. Feel like an underachiever anyway
  6. Briefly feel depressed and wish I was a Type A personality who would actually get things done
  7. Comfort myself that I would probably be stressed all the time if I was a Type A
  8. Realize that half the time I am comparing myself to people who’s lives I wouldn’t want anyway
  9. Stare at my belly roll and fear that I am getting middle aged spread
  10. Feel bitter that I am supposed to eat less as I age when I still have the appetite of a teenage boy
  11. Kick myself for worrying about petty things when I should have accepted myself by now
  12. Feel superficial and vain
  13. Try to think of something deep to contemplate on my birthday
  14. Come up with nothing
  15. Worry that I am developing a dowager hump
  16. Take stock of the year and concentrate on my accomplishments
  17. Think for a really long time and feel hard pressed to come up with anything
  18. Briefly feel depressed again
  19. Regret that I didn’t backpack through Europe before I started university
  20. Wonder how travel to India, Thailand, Istanbul and spending the winter in Mexico fits with my goal to get out of debt
  21. Look at celebrities in their forties and compare myself to them
  22. Consider starting a botox fund
  23. Hope that I won’t succumb to injections and end up looking like the Joker
  24. Feel bad that I am critical of other women and their choices when we should all be part of the sisterhood
  25. Wonder if I should go back to the Zen Buddhist temple for spiritual guidance and group meditation
  26. Remember that I hate group activities
  27. Feel proud that Buddha was also a Taurus
  28. Realize that feeling smug about sharing a sign with Buddha probably isn’t very Buddhist
  29. Wonder about my life’s purpose
  30. Plan to go for a psychic reading
  31. Feel like a flake for wanting a psychic reading
  32. Wish that I could get my astrological chart done but realize my parents have always been very vague about my time of birth
  33. Wonder if my sister is right and I really was adopted
  34. Say a brief thank you for the wonderful family and friends I have in my life
  35. Give myself a high-five for nabbing The Sweetie
  36. Reiterate my belief that so long as I have love, true connection and health, I have it all
  37. Feel like I am spouting platitudes
  38. Don’t care if I am cliched, feel lucky anyway
  39. Consider going for therapy
  40. Get bored of myself
  41. Start secret list of everything I will accomplish by the time I am fifty

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An Open Letter to My Swedish Hasbeens

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.

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Garage Sale Bliss

May 16th, 2010

I was going through some shopping withdrawal this week. My new frugal lifestyle has been satisfying and I’ve had many smug moments resisting temptation and eating my thrifty lentil dinners but the treat-lover in me has been feeling a little deprived. I was experiencing a serious case of budget martyrdom.

Luckily The Sweetie and I found some delightful garage sales this morning. It was the perfect day for garage sales. There were copious amounts of charming, fluffy cats sunning themselves on the sidewalks and porches. The garage sale hosts were extra adorable and friendly everywhere we went. The Sweetie and I would whisper to each other, “Could they have been any nicer? Are you shocked that they didn’t offer to make us smoothies and bake muffins?”

I picked up an armful of delights for a mere $12:  knitting needles and yarn to add to my stash, a novel I have been wanting to read for ages, a belt since I figured I should start accessorizing more, a magazine holder (which The Sweetie is very excited about since he regularly trips over the books and magazines stacked around my side of the bed), and my most exciting find of the day, a retro bread box. I have been lusting after an old school bread box for ages. On top of that, a lovely woman threw is some heirloom tomato seedlings, just because. She was delightful, the cats were delightful, the weather was delightful, The Sweetie and I were delightful.

Sunny spring Sundays that begin with garage sales are always delightful.

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Pre Birthday Musings

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.

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