All I Wanted was a Pepsi, Just One Pepsi...

So.

 

I’m going to talk about suicide.

 

If this is a trigger for you feel free to move on, and accept my apology for the trigger, the last thing I want ever is to negatively affect a person.

 

As an introvert, I take things internally and they roll around and around in my brain as I process them and it takes a long time for me to put what I’m feeling into words. I have been distraught and in anguish trying to comprehend my thoughts and feelings and cannot fully let them go until I’ve put them in order in my brain and can express them adequately. This is me getting the things that have been bouncing around in my brain out of my brain so that I don’t go insane.

 

Last week, a member of our wonderful Utah cosplay family took his life. I am grief stricken for our community; especially for those that I care about that cared about him and are deeply affected by this loss. Unfortunately, I did not know him but I still feel the void in our community because of it, and I am so sorry for those that loved him that were left behind.

 

I have had people I care about choose to take their life, and I myself attempted suicide when I was sixteen, so I know both sides; I know what it is to grieve, and I know what it is to feel like I no longer deserve to exist.

 

I’m going to get into how one feels when they are in that deep, dark abyss and want to end it all. This is a paralyzing gloom. It is the darkest of feelings. This is the blackest of black moods. When I have been in this place, and I have felt like this several times in my life – I did not see the light after my failure at my attempt and my life has been perfect and roses since - so when I have been in this place, I have felt that I am worth nothing. That the world would be a better place without me. That I should never have existed and I most definitely should not exist now. The mental pain is excruciating and numbing all at the same time. My brain shuts down and it is impossible to do anything to heal myself. The self-talk is horrendous. The worst thing is that because I truly believe that the world would be better off without me, and that I never should have existed, the thought to reach out for help never occurs to me. When my brain becomes this numb and dysfunctional, it is impossible to reach out.

 

I’m sorry if I offend anyone by saying this, but the words “feel free to reach out to me at any time” are worth nothing to a person who is suffering with suicidal tendencies. They are in the deepest darkest of places and are incapable of reaching out. There is nothing that they can do because they are frozen in despair. They are drowning. It is important for us to pay attention to the people we care about. It can be difficult when people cocoon and push others away and just need to be in their cave. I am one of those people, but sometimes when I’m in my cave it is because I am desperately lonely, yet incapable of putting my feelings into some sort of comprehensive communication and all it takes is a “r u o k?” text, or chicken and salad, or a silly meme on my wall with a “saw this thought of you” comment, or a hug to pull me out. I’m not saying this is on you, but if you want to know what you can do, this is something you can do. Telling someone who is suffering, drowning, and sinking to reach out any time can sound like nothing but lip service. It is extremely difficult to ask for help when you do not feel like you deserve to breathe, let alone have someone come to your aid.

 

I want those who are grieving to know that this is not your fault. He was in the deepest and darkest of places, and the fact that you didn’t know is NOT your fault (regardless of what I just said). Sometimes we hurt and we can’t get out of it and no one else can help either. We feel like this is the end and it should be the end and there’s nothing else to be done but to end it all. We are without hope. And we leave. We do this because there is nothing left inside of us, and no external stimulation can fix that. Suicide, unfortunately, is not one hundred percent preventable.

 

If you are feeling the blackest of blues, are considering leaving this existence, and you are reading this: Please. STAY. You are worth the air you breathe. You are loved. Take a deep breath, hydrate, do something that makes you breathe hard and your blood flow, look outside, GO outside, listen to music. You deserve to exist. You are important. I’m sorry you feel this way, I know how you feel, and if you want to talk, comment. I’m here. (if you’re local and you need a hug, PM me your address, I’ll be right there, I also have excellently absorbent shoulders)

 

These are the things that have been bouncing around in my head since last week. It’s been difficult for me because whenever I hear of a person taking their life, all the feelings that I had when I wanted to end it all come flooding back to me; I know how that person felt and I feel all the hurt all over again. I also know how hard it is on the ones that were left behind and I hurt for them too.

 

I love you.

Book Report - Specials

Title: Specials
Authour: Scott Westerfield
Length: 384 pages
How long it took me to read: 3 days
Grade: C

What it's about: "Special Circumstances": The words have sent chills down Tally's spine since her days as a repellent, rebellious ugly. Back then Specials were a sinister rumor -- frighteningly beautiful, dangerously strong, breathtakingly fast. Ordinary pretties might live their whole lives without meeting a Special. But Tally's never been ordinary.

And now she's been turned into one of them: a superamped fighting machine, engineered to keep the uglies down and the pretties stupid.

The strength, the speed, and the clarity and focus of her thinking feel better than anything Tally can remember. Most of the time. One tiny corner of her heart still remembers something more.

Still, it's easy to tune that out -- until Tally's offered a chance to stamp out the rebels of the New Smoke permanently. It all comes down to one last choice: listen to that tiny, faint heartbeat, or carry out the mission she's programmed to complete. Either way, Tally's world will never be the same.

The ending is the most important part: This did not feel like the ending of the trilogy. It's like the story just stopped

Last word: I had so much hope for this series. Sadly, I really don't like Tally as a Special.

Spoilers after the jump

Song of the Day - "MMM Yeah" Austin Mahone ft. Pitbull

I know that you're thinking I've lost my mind, and wondering what is UP with all the poppy music, but COME ON. I dare you to not shake your whatever you desire when you hear this song.

I love this song, there is no denying it ever. I will always love it. Even with Pitbull, but the version without Pitbull is better.

Book Report - Gone Girl

Title: Gone Girl
Authour: Gillian Flynn
Length: 395 pages
How long it took me to read: 4 days

What it's about:On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy Dunne's fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped and reservations are being made when Nick's clever and beautiful wife disappears from their rented McMansion on the Mississippi River. Husband-of-the-Year Nick isn't doing himself any favors with cringe-worthy daydreams about the slope and shape of his wife's head, but passages from Amy's diary reveal the alpha-girl perfectionist could have put anyone dangerously on edge. Under mounting pressure from the police and the media--as well as Amy's fiercely doting parents--the town golden boy parades an endless series of lies, deceits, and inappropriate behavior. Nick is oddly evasive, and he's definitely bitter--but is he really a killer?

As the cops close in, every couple in town is soon wondering how well they know the one that they love. With his twin sister, Margo, at his side, Nick stands by his innocence. Trouble is, if Nick didn't do it, where is that beautiful wife? And what was in that silvery gift box hidden in the back of her bedroom closet?

The ending is the most important part: Wait, what? That was the end? What a sick and twisted ending.

Last word:  Wow, what a good book. Ugh, what a terrible, twisted ending. I loved and hated this book. Not since East of Eden's Cathy Ames have I hated a character as much as I hate Amy Elliot Dunne.

Spoilers after the jump

The Mommy Wars - Rantgirl Weighs in‏

I'm mad. I'm mad and I'm sad. I'm Smad. (Bonus points if you get the reference.)

How is it that in 2013, there are still people who ask the question of Stay at Home Moms: "What do you do all day?" Is this a joke? How is this still happening? I can only assume that the people that are asking the questions are not experienced in the realm of motherhood and are therefore completely ignorant and are legitimately seeking the answer to their question. I mean seriously, how is this still a topic? Did they not have mothers?

People are so stupid.

Can't we all just agree that it's ALL work? Working is work, and being home is work and anyone who has spent any time at all around children knows that children are work. Right? So how is this still an issue?

I want to tell the stay at home mommies to shut the heck up sometimes when they cry about not being recognized as "working". Listen, girls, we all know that you work, okay?

I wonder if we have a jealousy thing going on. The ones who stay home are jealous of the ones that get to leave their house and wear pantyhose and talk to other adults, while the ones who work are jealous of the ones who get to stay home and wear yoga pants, don't necessarily have to shower that day and can kiss the smooshy faces of their babies whenever they want.

I know that I'm jealous. When I have those days where getting out of bed is a chore and I'm having a bad hair day and I hate all my clothes, I still have to get up and leave my bed and shower and get dressed in something "professional" because guess what happens if I don't? I don't get paid. If I do it often enough? I get fired and never get paid. And then I can't feed my children. I'm pretty sure that's an important thing in the role of a mother - to feed your children.

You want to talk about jealousy? How about the working mom who works from home, but hires a nanny to come and play with her children so that she can work? Those moms don't get to join in the conversation. I want to punch those moms.

Maybe I have the wrong friends, but I keep seeing these "Heck ya, I work, I stay home" type of posts and it makes me wonder about the working mom. What about her? Where is her voice? Well, for one, she's too busy to pipe up. She goes to work and works all day only to come home and work all night (or vice versa). What about those moms? What about the moms who leave their babies and go to work and hate themselves because all they want to do is stay at home with said babies?

I can't even talk about single moms who have no choice but to work. Single moms have a special place reserved for them in heaven. This one time DH and I took Huey and my two nephews to the beach; they were all around three years old at the time. Oldest nephew lived on an island and was best friends with the ocean, so tore off as far from us as possible and dove head first into the roaring surf. Huey and DH skipped along in the tide pools, wandering along at their own pace, stopping to look at crabs and weird seaweed and anything else that caught their fancy. Youngest nephew lagged far behind because he had tripped in a tide pool, got tangled up in seaweed, and was paralyzed with fear. O.N. was too far away to hear my shrieking pleas for him to return, and Y.N. was freaking out, so knowing that my son was perfectly safe with his father, and fearing for the lives of the sons of my sisters, I ran back, scooped Y.N. into my arms and raced to the surf to haul O.N. out of the ocean and to play within a safe distance. Just as I was walking towards DH and Huey, dripping wet, dragging a soaking O.N. by the hand and carrying a sobbing, drenched Y.N. in my arms, my mother and brother arrived with towels and her famous beach bag. She was laughing at me and said, "Can you imagine? I did this with FOUR of you all by myself! What was I thinking? It's amazing none of you drowned." Like I said, MAJOR props to the single moms.

Back to the working moms; what about them? The ones who get up and get their kids ready for their day while getting ready for their own day, to go to work and do things all day for other people only to come home and make the dinner and do the laundry and clean the dishes and supervise the homework and read the books and put the ones to bed. Forget it if there's a sporting event, musical instrument concert, or scout meeting to attend. What about those amazing jugglers who sometimes don't even manage to get out of their pantyhose until ten o'clock at night? Pantyhose can be itchy, you guys; it's annoying and ugly and expected for you to wear if you want to look like a professional.

When Huey was two I changed jobs and we had no choice but to enroll him in preschool. Every day for a year when I took him into school he cried. His teacher would have to peel him off me every day. Then I would go into my car and cry; every day for a year.

When I went back to work after Dewey was born, he wouldn't take a bottle. He would scream and scream, but he would not take that bottle. One time DH called me at work, I could hear Dewey screaming in the background and my milk let down immediately. "Just come home as soon as you can." He said, and hung up. I hung up, told my boss that I had to go home, she understood what I was going through, and raced home. I could hear Dewey panic-crying from the elevator. I rushed down the hallway, unbuttoning my blouse as I went. After some intense internet research, DH figured out how to get Dewey to take a bottle and things got better, but I can't tell you the guilt I felt for having to leave my baby every day.

I'm only going to mention the humiliation of trying to find a discreet place to pump so that my children wouldn't have to have formula.

We were blessed where DH and I worked opposite shifts for the most part, so I mostly left my baby boys with their daddy. This lessened my guilt a little, but only a little. What kind of a mother leaves her children for hours every day? I wished so much I could just be with them. I wished that I was the one changing their diapers and watching The Bear in the Big Blue House and Blues Clues and Thomas and Bob the Builder. I wanted to be the one to play blocks and trains and cars and make forts and puppet shows. I would get up every morning and look over at my sleeping boys and be so jealous of their father who got to spend all day with them.

DH and I fight constantly because the house is a mess, but I don't have the energy to clean after working all day and then attempting to be there for my boys all night. I admit that my guilt drove my over compensating. I would come home from work and just do whatever the little ones wanted because I felt so guilty for leaving them all day. We would play and read and watch movies. There would be some semblance of dinner, but my little boys were my first priority. Dishes and laundry could wait, but then DH and I would fight about how nothing got done around the house.

You stay at home moms who get the "what did you do all day?" question? You're not alone. I would get it too. DH would go to work at 3pm when I got home. He would come home for dinner at 7:30 and see that the house was still a mess and that there was no dinner yet, and he would ask, "What have you been doing for the last four hours?" The answer is I've been paying attention to my boys to make up for all the time I've missed today! Now that he's home and he sees what my evenings are like, he's backed off a little, but we still fight about this and Huey is thirteen!

Our babies are only babies for so long. The time goes quickly and I feel like I missed out on so much of my babies being babies. Dewey is nine and perfectly capable of taking care of himself. My guilt has lessened somewhat now that they are both in school while I am at work, so I don't miss out on being with them during the day. There are still those times when they're home sick or on school holiday that I can't be with them during the day and I hate it. I still wish I could be a stay at home mom.

Sometimes I feel like our children need us more when they're teens and trying to navigate themselves into adulthood than when they're little.

I've taken vacation time just to stay home and live the life of a stay at home mom. I still can't get everything done. It may just be me, but my vote is that raising children is all encompassing, and it's work.

You guys, being a mother is WORK. We are all mothers. We need to love and support one another in our roles as mothers. I'm not saying that anyone has it any better or worse than anyone else. We all have it hard. I just wanted to give a voice to the moms who have to leave their children every day in order to put food on the table.

I don't want to fight. I'm too tired to fight.

So. September Sucked.‏

I have decided that I hate September and I'm really mad about it.

Like, I can't believe it's already October 10. Wasn't it summer like two minutes ago?

Just when I made up with Snow, and Summer, now I have to break up with September. What's the deal? September used to be that month where you were all done with summer and ready for the new school year. Even after I was all done with school, I still used September as a renewal month to set new goals and look forward to a new year.

Now September is still hot and I'm not ready to let go of summer, but there's school and homework and routine and I'm not ready yet! How did September sneak up on me so fast? This summer went by too fast and it felt like we didn't do anything awesome. I wasn't ready for summer to leave this year and September was so weird. Hot one day, snowing the next. September, you were one moody beeotch this year. I guess I just got caught off guard this year, but it's been happening the last couple of years and it needs to stop.

I have found that February, April and September are the worst months for me. This has been bothering me for awhile, so of course I've been thinking and thinking and tossing it around in my brain for some time. I've come to the conclusion that one of the reasons that these months affect me so much is that they are so wonderful in BC and so not like that here in Utah. I'm trying so hard to bloom where I'm planted, but it's hard sometimes.

Since I'm whining about September, I'll talk about September and leave the other months for some other time. September in Vancouver is sunny, crisp, fall colours, and rain. You are instantly inspired to snuggle up in your tights and boots and sweaters. It is so beautiful. The weather changes, and it stays that way. There is none of this yo-yo scalding shorts and flip flops one day, snowing the next. There's too much whiplash weather here in the in-between seasons. In Vancouver you are eased into to the miserable weather and it rains a lot more. Here, it's summer one day, and winter the next. I hate it.

Did I mention I hate it? I had such a hard time this year. Getting into the routine of school and homework was like a slap in the face this year. Huey is doing a little better this year, but it's still a struggle. If I only had him to focus on, it would be okay, but Dewey is still at the point where I have to sit with him and listen to him read and help with math and by the time I'm done with all that, I'm too tired to fight with Huey.

I also struggled with finding time to do anything that gave me joy. I couldn't get myself inspired to blog, so I didn't make the time to write, and that was a bad idea. I've been composing this post in my head for three weeks, but just could never take the time to sit down and get it out of my brain. Reading seemed like such a drag too. I dunno if it was the book I was reading, or just the time of year, but the book was nice enough, I just couldn't get motivated to take the time to read when there were so many other things to do. Forget about sewing or doing anything else creative. My craft room looks like a bomb hit it and I just want to cry every time I think about it.

I just feel like time is racing away from me right now. Soon enough it will be Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. It feels like time is going faster and faster and I have no way of catching up. I need to take a break and regroup, but I'm so worried that if I even take the time to breathe, that so much time will have passed that I'll be even further behind!

I don't feel organized and on top of things. I can't stop to rest until my chores are done and I just can't get caught up. I need some peace and quiet so that I can get myself back in order, but time is racing by so quickly that I just don't have the time to get in order. I need to make the time, but I just can't figure out when!

"I didn't even like thirteen year old girls when I WAS a thirteen year old girl"

So I've heard this statement twice in one week, and I'm confused and a little sick of the teen girl hate that can be out there.

I get it that teenage girls are screamy and moody and mean and spiteful and annoying. They can be shallow and seem to only care about boys and lip gloss, but they are our future and we as women should be building them up, not tearing them down, otherwise we are just as guilty of being shallow mean girls.

Maybe it's because I am still fourteen years old in my head, or because I vividly remember what it was like to be a teenage girl, but I totes love teen girls! I think they're awesome and I can totally relate to them.

When I asked my friend about this, she told me that I had a wonderful childhood and that's why I don't understand why people don't like teenage girls. I was popular and therefore not shunned in high school, so I had it easy. I think that's nice that people think that of me, that means that my illusion is successful.

Yes, I was popular - Student Council, Cheerleader, Honour Roll, Diet Coke Table in the cafeteria, but I didn't have it easy at all.

When I was in Grade Seven, I wrote a love letter to my enormous crush, Ernie. I poured my little twelve-year-old heart and soul out to this boy. I thought that I would explode if I didn't let him know that I liked him, but I was still pretty shy in grade seven, so the letter had to be the way to go. In the letter I referred to the Lionel Ritchie song Hello which was popular at the time. The next day at school, when they saw me walk into the school yard, a couple of girls started singing the song loudly and yelling "Ernie! Your girlfriend is here!" Apparently, he had shared the letter, and before I knew it was all over school and I was mortified. I couldn't go anywhere on the playground without being serenaded. Fortunately, I had some really good friends from my softball team that supported me and protected me from the brunt of the teasing. To this day I can't hear that song withough cringing, wanting to fall in a hole and dissapear, die, and have the ground swallow me up.

Another time, we were hanging out at the park in the townhouse complex where I lived and the girls were playing "secret"; this one girl went around and whispered a secret into everyone's ears and we weren't allowed to tell. The secret she told me was that she thought that some boy liked her, I wondered to myself why that was such a secret, but whatever. I found out later that the secret was that she told everyone else that she couldn't believe I was wearing a bra when I was so flat (it was because my mum made me), and that she made up a dummy secret to tell me; she just wanted to tell everyone else the thing about the bra and didn't want me to know.

School was my refuge from an awful home life - step-dad drunk and calling me an unfeeling bitch, mother hiding under the covers in the dark, feeling like I was responsible for the well-being of my three younger siblings and terrified of setting a bad example. At least at school I had people who loved me, or so I thought, I knew how to play the game, and I was smart, so school was the only place I felt successful.

I didn't have anyone I trusted; not my parents, they couldn't be there for me, they had their own issues. Not my friends; when you're in the popular crowd, it's about maintaining your status and watching your back. Not the teachers; no way was I going to let them know that I was not perfect. Not my leaders at church; no way was I going to let them know that everything was not perfect.

That being said, I still loved being a teen. I loved school, my friends, the parties, the clothes, the music, the hair. My trust issues with my friends were mine, not caused by any of their wrong-doing, and I still consider them my friends to this day.

So yeah, girls can be mean. They can also be your support system, they can stick up for you when other girls are being mean to you. They can be shy, and smart and keep to themselves, and they can be wild and crazy and super fun to be around.

Girls are great, being a teen is crazy hard with all the changes going on (mentally, physically, emotionally), the awkwardness and not knowing which way is up and trying to figure out who you are and how to grow up. We as grown-up women need to be there as mentors and support for these girls, not shun them and call them stupid jerks.

Book Report - Angela's Ashes

Title: Angela's Ashes
Authour: Frank McCourt
Length:  363 pages
How long it took me to read: Two and a Half Weeks

What it's about:
Despite extreme poverty and desperation of his childhood McCourt recounts his early age in an affecting and uplifting voice in this luminous memoir.

The ending is the most important part: I was so happy this book ended. There was hope at the end and it did end well, but I hated this book

Last word: Ugh. What a drag. Don't Read This Book.

Spoilers after the jump:

They're Ba-ack!

You don't have to count them, there's a lot

I caught Orso furiously licking his paw the other day, and I knew I had to take action immediatley. TWENTY-SIX seed pods later, we were done.

I have seen the seed pods in the laundry and the carpet, and when I brush Orso, and in his tail. (ha ha, he has foxtails in his tail!!) I had been checking his paws from time to time and picking out a few here and there, but never as many as twenty-six. Sheesh!!

I am so sick of not having a back yard. I am so sick of the weeds. I am seriously going to burn the thing down.

Also, poor Orso has no where to frolic and laze under a tree or anything. Sad face for Orso.

Also, it's so embarassing that we've lived in this house for seven years and still don't have a back yard. I have so many visions of how pretty it will be when our yard is done. Sad face for me.

Look at my happy boy! All de-seeded.

Book Report Beautiful Chaos

Title: Beautiful Chaos
Authour: Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl
Length: 516 pages
How long it took me to read: A week and a half

What it's about: Third in the series of the Beautiful Creatures Novels. Ethan Wate thought he was getting used to the strange, impossible events happening in Gatlin, his small Southern town. But now that Ethan and Lena have returned home, strange and impossible have taken on new meanings. Swarms of locusts, record-breaking heat, and devastating storms ravage Gatlin as Ethan and Lena struggle to understand the impact of Lena's Claiming. Even Lena's family of powerful Supernaturals is affected - and their abilities begin to dangerously misfire. As time passes, one question becomes clear: What - or who - will need to be sacrificed to save Gatlin?

For Ethan, the chaos is a frightening but welcome distraction. He's being haunted in his dreams again, but this time it isn't by Lena - and whatever is haunting him is following him out of his dreams and into his everyday life. Even worse, Ethan is gradually losing pieces of himself - forgetting names, phone numbers, even memories. He doesn't know why, and most days he's too afraid to ask.

Sometimes there isn't just one answer or one choice. Sometimes there's no going back. And this time there won't be a happy ending.

The ending is the most important part: Another Cliffhanger? This cliffhanger was worse than Beautiful Creatures! What the HECK Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl? Yeah, the ending is definitley not a happy one.

Last word: I recommend this book just know that the title suits it - it's chaotic and hard to get through because things are kinda dark and you think you know more than the characters and it takes them way too long to figure things out, which is so frustrating, but it turns out you were wrong anyway. Make sure you have Beautiful Redemption on standby so you can immediately go into the next book. I have to wait and I'm pretty mad about it.

Spoilers after the jump:

Book Report - The Life of Pi

Title: The Life of Pi
Authour: Yann Martel
Length: 319 pages
How long it took me to read: 2.5 days

What it's about: Pi Patel, a God-loving boy and the son of a zookeeper, has a fervent love of stories and practices not only his native Hinduism, but also Chrisianity and Islam. When Pi is sixteen, his family and their zoo animals emigrate from India to North America aboard a japanese cargo ship. Alas, the sip sinks - and Pi finds himself in a lifeboat, his only companions a hyena, and orangutan, a wounded zebra, and a 450-pound bengal tiger. Soon the tiger has dispatched all but Pi. Can Pi and the tiger find their way to land? Can Pi's fear, knowledge, and cunning keep him alive until they do?

My take: I'm gonna do my take after the jump because there will be spoilers.

The ending is the most important part: The end has a twist that will Blow. Your. Mind.

Last word: I never ever thought I would say this ever, but the movie is enough. You don't have to read the book. The movie tells the story beautifully and is a visual feast, so I don't recommend the book, but I recommend the film.

What I want to be when I grow up

So I’m forty-one years old and I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up and I’m not very happy about it. And yes, I had to pause to figure out how old I was and then had to do the math, on an adding machine, and realize how old I was. At least I know how old my kids are – twelve and eight, right? Right.

I have decided I would like to get my degree in Library Science but major in English too so that I can either be a librarian OR an English teacher. (ha ha ha ha HA! I just spelled English wrong!! That’s so funny.) I love words and books and reading and grammar and spelling. I am still fourteen years old in my head, high school was one of the best experiences of my life, so why not spend the rest of my life in high school? On summer holidays, when I wasn’t in the Library (voluntarily), or had my nose stuck in a book, I was playing ‘school’ and handing out assignments to my little brother and sister and marking their papers with a red pencil crayon and stamping their papers with my smiley face stamp and handing out stickers. I had my own gold stars. I had my own smiley face stamp for crying out loud! I made my brother and sister and their friends take spelling tests. On summer break. I can’t make this stuff up, people. I am an excellent public speaker, and kids totally dig me. I should totally do this.

So you’re forty-one and you’re just coming to this conclusion now? What is wrong with you, Rantgirl? Well, I will tell you.

Lost in the Library

photo credit www.eileenmosca.com

This is the story of the first time I went to the library.

I have mentioned my best friend who I never see, Berit, before when I told you about my getting my ears pierced adventure. We've been best friends since we were two and I love her like a sister and will never stop loving her.

A long, long, time ago, okay fifteen years ago, Berit and I were roommates. Berit worked at the Vancouver Public Library and I was a landscaper. One day, Berit freaked out when she found out that I had never stepped foot inside a public library. “I cannot believe that you are my best friend and I have worked for the library all this time and we have this BEAUTIFUL BRAND NEW library and you have never been in it!”

I love books, I love to read. I used to practically LIVE in my school library – I was even in an advanced spelling class (I’ll explain later) that was in the library at school. I used to go to the library in the summer. Unfortunately, once I discovered boys, the library got abandoned along with my good grades.

Anyway, the landscaping job didn’t work out and I was between jobs for a short while, so Berit and I set a lunch date and she would show me around the library. It’s a beautiful building, it looks like the Colosseum, and it’s set in this little dip in the land, so you don’t see it until you’re right on it – and it’s magnificent! I knew this, but I had never experienced it first hand. After our lunch and my tour, Berit went back to work and I went exploring in the library. I got lost in the Science Fiction section reading H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man and lost track of time. They had to kick me out of the library that I had never set foot inside of until that day because they were closing. I got home well after dark. When I walked into our apartment, Berit practically pounced on me, asking, “Where WERE you?!” My mum had called, and my sister, all looking for me and Berit had no clue where I was and it wasn’t like me to just disappear. I exclaimed in exasperation, “I was at the LIBRARY!!”

It was so funny for someone who didn’t have a library card and hadn’t stepped inside a library in over five years and never inside a public one to have spent the ENTIRE day there. This was the first step in my love affair with the library.

Oh, and Happy Birthday to the woman who gave me life. You can read more about her here.

Best Friends

Bess Marvin, Jane Bennett, Diana Barry, Alice Cullen, Vickie Miner, Flounder and Sebastian, Cinderella’s mice, Lane Kim, Ethel Mertz, Dr. John H.Watson, Betty Rubble, Patrick, Patsy Stone, Tinkerbell, Dick Grayson, Hermione Granger. What is with secondary characters? I LOVE them. I always want to be them.

I always love the Best Supporting Actress/Actor role more than the Best Actress/Actor. I always think these characters are so much more interesting and seem so much more fun to play.

In a beauty pageant it seems to me that the Miss Congeniality award would be so much more appealing than to win the pageant.

In The Holiday, Arthur Abbot tells Iris that she is always playing the best friend. She exclaims “You’re right! You should be the leading lady in your own life!

So why do I always identify with the best friend? Why do I always want to be like Bess and Alice? It always seems to me that they’re the more interesting character. They’re funnier, prettier, cleverer than the main character. Is it because the focus is on the protagonist, so the secondary character seems more mysterious? I always like to make back stories for them. Maybe because they are not as fleshed out as the main character, I am more able to give them some of my own qualities to fill in the gaps. Maybe it’s because they make the main character so awesome with their friendship, loyalty, support, etc. I guess I want to be a friend like that.

Ever since I saw The Holiday I’ve been striving to be the leading lady in my own life. Considering that movie came out in 2006 (on my birthday, which is one of my favourite things about the film), I’ve been spending a long time considering this and have yet to come to a conclusion.

Don’t get me wrong, I totally love Anne Shirley and Elizabeth Bennett and Nancy Drew and the rest, I just relate to the best friends more.

I GOT IT! I just realized that the reason why I wish I was the best friend was because I love these main characters so much that I wish I could be in their lives as their best friends!! Good job, Watson.

Privacy Policy

I am a private person. I only want people knowing what I tell them about me, and I hate it when people talk about me. I do not want people up in my business. If I wanted you to know something about me, I would tell you. I’m a pretty open book, but only with the things I choose to show you. I don’t want you delving into my personal personal stuff.

Also, if you want to know something about me, all you have to do is ask, I will probably tell you. I hate people speculating about me more than anything. The speculations are usually wrong and I really really hate it when people assume stuff.

This is one of the reasons why I have no friends. I have major trust issues and I only open up to people to a certain extent. I hide this by staying on the surface and being shallow, while being really honest and straight-forward with people. That way I can distract them from knowing how private I truly am.

I respect your privacy. If I know something about you and you didn’t tell me yourself, then I pretend that I don’t know that thing until you tell me. I figure if someone wants me to know something, they will tell me themselves. I do not believe in spreading the word. Unless it’s positive, uplifting, awesome news; like an engagement or a new baby or fabulous shoes or something.

So it really bugs me when people pass on news about me. Stuff that I wanted kept private, but neglected to tell the person I was telling that it was private and I didn’t want it passed around. You would assume that something that is obviously personal would be something that one would want to be kept private, but in this the day of Facebook and Twitter and Blogger, I guess you really need to specify these sorts of things.

When Dewey first got sick, I got really nostalgic because I could control the outcome of the past, but I couldn’t control the outcome of the future, so I joined Facebook. It was really great reconnecting with my old pals. Being the private person that I am, I didn’t post anything about Dewey on FB. I wasn’t interested in broadcasting my grief to the world. I discovered that one of my friends was living her childhood dream and working as a nurse. I sent her a private message telling her about what was going on with me. I just found out that she had gone and told some of my other friends about it. It’s been five years, I shouldn’t be mad, but I kind of am. I feel a little betrayed. I also feel a little stupid because we just recently all got together and it came up and I was explaining to my friends that I thought didn’t know, and they already knew. They had known all this time. So now I don’t know what makes me angrier; that my friend talked about me, or that my other friends knew and didn’t say a word to me about it! Like, how could you know this about a person – someone you were good friends with - and not reach out to them and say, “Hey old friend, our other old friend told us about your little boy and I just wanted to let you know that I love you/I’m praying for you/I’m so sorry.” Like the friend that I had initially reached out to was so loving and kind and wonderful and said such lovely things even though she told other people my business but it was out of the kindness of her heart because she was so heartbroken for me, so I guess I just forgave my original friend, but now I’m mad at my other friends. Just kidding - I forgave you twenty seconds ago. I could never stay mad at  you, you're so pretty and nice. I’m so dumb.

Another thing; if you tell me not to tell anyone, I. WILL. NOT. TELL. A. SOUL. My sister-in-law called me one time because she needed to talk to someone and asked me not to tell anyone. She had some stuff going on in her life and she needed an outsider’s opinion and a listening ear. I totally vaulted that information. She must have told her mother or her step-father because the information got to my husband and he brought it up one time when he was talking to her. So she assumed that it was me that told him because according to her I was the only one she told, but he told her that I hadn’t said anything to him, but he couldn’t remember where he heard it. Now she doesn’t trust me and thinks that I told DH when she specifically asked me not to and I specifically did not say a word to him nor anyone else. I feel so bad because I really like her and so didn't want to break her trust and was so honoured that she chose to talk to me, her trust in me was broken any way. So I guess I feel really dumb about that too because when someone tells me to not say anything, I don’t, but invariably, that person tells someone else and another person, and someone else blabs and it gets blamed on me because I have a big mouth. Trust me, my mouth is not that big and I totally respect your desire for secrecy.

So that was a weird tangent, but just know that I’m very private and I will respect your privacy and even if you don’t tell me not to tell anyone, I most definitely will not tell anyone about what’s going on with you, so your secret is safe with me.

Face Facts – You are Never Going to Be a Stay-At-Home-Mom

This is what twelve-year-old Huey told me yesterday in reference to my blogging. What - was my query? Whatever do you mean? I fully didn’t understand. There are more people in this world than just mommies blogging about their kids.

Obviously he doesn’t read my blog, or he would know that I am totally not striving to be one of those mommy-bloggers. I have nothing against mommy-bloggers at all. I enjoy reading their blogs. They are funny and cute and have their audience. I have no audience, therefore no leg to stand on. (my kid nor my husband even read my blog – basically it’s just my mother every six months, and my Mother-in-law -Hi C3PO!)

It was like he thought that I was trying to be something I’m not by blogging. Clearly he doesn’t understand, but that’s not the point. I fear there is something more going on here.

This also reminded me about the things that I would say to my mother: trying to teach her the ways of the world like I knew so much more than she - me being twelve, her being older than twelve.

This got me to thinking: just what does he think Moms do? What is his opinion of women? It doesn’t seem to be too high and that needs to be nipped directly in the bud! I am not raising a misogynistic dope like his father*!! No way! So I’m trying to think of what to do/say/teach here. Not quite sure how to show him how awesome the opposite sex is without making him all female-centric. I’m looking for balance.

*he's not really a misogynist - he just didn't get schooled very well in his youth about certain things.

New Year’s Annoyance

Hey.

Howareya.

Happy New Year.

So I kinda hate romantic holidays. I also hate it when people try to make holidays romantic. Case in point: the number of people getting engaged at Christmas. Oy. Dude, get an imagination. And, how cheap are you? Too cheap to buy an engagement ring and a Christmas present so you just lump them into one? URGH!! I have a thing about combined presents. See: Birthday + Christmas = your head chopped off. (to those of you who got engaged on Christmas – congratulations!)

Side note; I never used to hate romantic holidays – I guess I used to have such high hopes. Years of disappointment has ruined this. I hate that the little girl in me has died.

I consider New Year’s to be a romantic holiday – what with the kiss at midnight and the pretty dress and the hope for something new and the cuddling because it’s cold.

So I totally loved New Year’s. It’s my favourite. I love making resolutions and looking back at last year and all the lists (top 20 albums of the year, 10 worst fashion disasters of the year, you know). I love the fact that there is a party, but NO gift giving. I love planning what I’m going to wear to the New Year’s dance/party/whatever. I love the sparkle and the fancy. I used to plan all year what I was going to do for New Year’s.

Let’s rewind to New Year’s Eve 1996. I was so excited to share this with my soon-to-be-Darling-Husband that I took a trip to Salt Lake City just to spend New Year’s with my Darling. I was so excited to finally have my “forever” – the man I was going to spend the rest of eternity with. Yay! Finally a guaranteed kiss at midnight for the rest of evermore! I was so excited for a romantic night. I spent Christmas with my family, but saved New Year’s for my fiancé. When my dad was driving me to the Seattle airport so that I could fly down to SLC, we had a huge hassle at the border; car searched, sent in to immigration to be grilled, etc., a story for another time. I thought it was all worth it just to spend New Year’s with my Darling.

He knew I was coming to spend New Year’s with him, but he made no plans. I saw that he had New Year’s decorations in his condo, so I wrongfully assumed that New Year’s was as big a deal to him as it was to me. A tip: you do NOT ask your love/date/girlfriend/whatever what they want to do for New Year’s ON New Year’s Eve. Of course, everything was booked and there was nothing to do, so we sat in front of the TV watching New Year’s Rockin’ eve. I use the term “we” loosely. I sat on the couch watching the TV and pouting while DH slept. Worst slash Stupidest New Year’s ever. I should have stayed home and partied with my friends since I was getting married in eleven days, but I wanted to spend the most romantic night of the year with my most favourite love. Had I known that I would never again party it up on New Year’s I would have totally taken advantage of my last chance.

DH and I have never done anything on New Year’s. Not once ever. Ever never ever. NE-VER. Like, ever. We celebrated the end of the 20^th century by him and his newly divorced friend watching the New Year’s fireworks around the world on CNN, and me sleeping in the next room. I was pregnant with Huey at the time and very tired. We were all worried about Y2K and the end of the world and I had to work the next day to make sure that the computers were all good to go. I woke up at midnight, came out to the living room, told the men “Happy New Year” and went back to bed. Yup. We know how to par-tay.

I have tried to plan things to do for New Year’s figuring that if I want to do something, I had better plan it. Everything I have suggested gets shot down. Too cold. Too loud. I don’t want to do that, I have to work. Every year I end up alone watching TV. We do occasionally toast with sparkling cider and kiss and say “Happy New Year”, but rarely do we both stay up and ring in the New Year together.

Here we are this year, the end of 2012. No plans. I had spent the last three days cleaning our house. (It looks great, thanks for asking!) DH had to work his usual 3-11pm. I made a nice steak dinner. When he left to go back to work he asked me if we were going to be up. I turned to him as I was folding laundry and watching New Year’s Rockin’ Eve with Jenny McCarthy and Ryan Seacrest – they were remembering Dick Clark, it was pretty great – and told him probably not. I was going to finish the load I was folding, read to Davy and put him to bed and go to bed myself. I was really tuckered out from cleaning, I had my period, we never do anything for New Year’s, I’m so sick of this year, the new year is going to come whether I ring it in or not, so bah, humbug! I was in bed by 10. Huey was up playing Minecraft when DH came home at eleven. I heard them talking and stuff, but chose to remain in bed. I was so grumpy from years previous and the whole asking me the day of if I want to do anything (urgh! That makes me so MAD!), and tired that I wasn’t about to get up and be with him even though I was awake. He came up and kissed me and said Happy New Year at midnight, but I pretended I was asleep.

So for the past sixteen New Year’s one of us has been asleep at midnight. We even had a bunch of fireworks going off in our neighbourhood this year and I was too grumpy to even bother to look outside. Sad for me the most, really. I used to love this holiday so much and this year totally stunk and most of it was because of me. I have being in Time’s Square at New Year’s on my bucket list for crying out loud!

I totally could have showered and prettied up and been all ready by the time DH got home. We could have watched the ball drop and toasted and had a kiss and a snuggle, but I was just so mad that we never do anything on New Year’s that I let sixteen years of frustration build up and just went to bed. There was no yelling or fighting like there has been in years past, which is good and bad. Good: no yelling or fighting. Bad: I’ve given up. So what I was trying to say was that I could have totally had a relatively fun New Year’s this year (at least a better on than in years past), but I just didn’t.

I have decided two things:

1. We are having an annual New Year’s party. You’re all invited. The theme is “White”.
2. We are going to have romantic holidays this year, that it is going to be up to me, and I am going to make it happen for us: starting with our anniversary on the 11^th. Wish me luck.

Christmas Plus and Minus.

I have discovered that the one and only thing that gets me in the Spirit of Christmas is having the presents bought and wrapped. Not ugly decorations. Not lame music. Next year (as with most years) I plan on having Christmas presents purchased early. I think by Halloween would be a good goal this year.

This is how my Christmas went:

Plus: I had ordered some shirts for Huey online and was worried that they may not arrive in time for Christmas. They were some good shirts (one Monty Python, the other Dr. Who) and I was really excited to give him the Monty Python shirt. I had checked my email Sunday morning to find that they were delivered on Saturday. We had not had a package come to our door, so Dewey and I got dressed in our coats and boots (over our jammies) and made the trek to the mailbox. Happily, the package was there and we skipped home to wrap presents. I have found that the boys get really excited with what they are getting for each other and their dad (and probably me). We had a blast wrapping presents together; even though I am extra-specially anal about how packages are wrapped. Dewey and I had a great time acting like little elves running down the block in our jammies and scampering home with our treasures and wrapping them up and putting them under the tree.

Minus: DH was bound and determined to have Christmas morning in the family room this year. It would be a first – we’ve only been in the house six years. I had put up the tree in the front room (lights, minimal decorations, only for Dewey’s sake), and had hoped that DH would take care of the family room while I was running around in Canada. Came home, nothing done. Weekend after week after weekend and nothing. I did what I could to contribute to the cleaning so that decorations could be brought out, but the majority of it was DH’s stuff-that-shall-not-be-touched and he was the one that was making a big deal about having this awesome cozy family room Christmas, so I left it up to him. Saturday night with Huey’s help he cleaned up enough of an area to put the tree up, but left it. He asked me to “fluff” the tree while he was at work on Sunday and when he came home from work for dinner he would put the lights on. I was really tired after taking care of sick Dewey and church and feeding everyone, that I just sat down to close my eyes for a minute. Huey got all kinds of mad at me for not helping things along and took it upon himself to finish the decorating. When DH got home he found Dewey watching TV while Huey was attempting to put the outdoor lights on the tree. DH took over and got the tree lit and the boys decorated the tree Sunday night. There was still the issue of clutter everywhere and no room to open presents. By the time Christmas Eve came around, I had given up and was planning on just having Christmas in the front room, but DH assured me that he would finish taking care of things. I had made the trek to Smith’s in the snow with the rest of Bountiful and back and DH was still lying around. I had a bit of a temper tantrum as I was fed up with his procrastinating and listening to the boys nag me about the lack of presents under the tree. After dinner, he meandered downstairs and got to work. I thought I was going to lose my mind. He was done by 2 am Christmas morning.

Plus: When I went to Smith’s at noon, there was major traffic. There was a huge line just to get into the driveway. Genius that I am, I forgot that they are doing construction on one of the driveways, so I had to turn left into the other driveway. I waited an eternity for my turn to have someone coming the opposite direction stop and block traffic so that I could turn in. That really put some spring in my step. I got everything that I needed for my Christmas dinner and Christmas baking with a smile on my face. I was in such a good mood that I almost did a victory dance in the middle of the canned vegetable aisle.

Minus: DH stores all the purchased gifts in two of the safes, so I was unable to get to them in order to have the boys wrap their presents to each other and to their dad. With our schedules being what they are, I never had a chance to have the safes opened early enough for there to be lots of presents under the tree and for my peace of mind. I don’t know the combinations, nor do I want to. I started on Friday asking him to open the safes for me so that I could pull out the presents the boys were going to give each other and some of the presents DH bought for himself that the boys were going to give to him. Huey and Dewey kept nagging me because they wanted to wrap presents, and I had to keep putting them off because DH kept putting me off. I had to have a tantrum to get DH to open up the bloody safes. I really did not want to do any yelling at Christmas, but I only lasted until Christmas Eve.

Plus: I have new hair and I really, REALLY, really love it.

Minus: The boys think I look like Draco Malfoy, and DH thinks it looks “not natural” so none of the boys like it.

Plus: The snow that started while I was at Smith’s on Christmas Eve continued to fall all day, so we had a White Christmas.

Minus: I told DH that I didn’t need any presents because I got to go to Vancouver. I had sent him a couple of wish lists in November; all he had to do was click on the thing and purchase it. He’s home during the day and would be there when the packages were delivered so I would be none the wiser. I’m not sure I could have made it any easier. A) I told him I didn’t need or want anything, but if he wanted to get me anything, he could get me something from here. B) I told him I didn’t need or want anything. C) I made it as easy as possible for him to get me something. D) I really hate shopping for myself, so it would have been really nice for him to just bloody well get me something from the lists. E) I’m really picky. He kept telling me on Christmas Eve that he felt bad that he didn’t have very many presents for me. I kept telling him that I didn’t want anything while reminding him that I had sent him lists with links over a month ago and he had no excuse for not having “much” for me and if he had really wanted to get me some nice presents then he had plenty of time and opportunity. We went through the same thing last year – I told him not to get me anything because we had spent so much money on our (my) trip to Kauai; to just focus on presents for the boys. He ended up feeling guilty because I didn’t have much to unwrap, so he bought me a $200.00 guitar. A guitar that I don’t know how to play, don’t have time to play let alone take lessons to learn how to play, and have only touched three times since I got it. It’s beautiful and I love it, but all it does is collect dust, torture me with the reminder that I don’t have the time to learn how to play it, and haunt me because it was such a waste of money. I was so worried that he was going to do that this year, so I kept reassuring him that I didn’t need any money spent on me. I ended up receiving an ugly pair of slippers and an even uglier candle warmer thing. I already have two candle warmer things that I rarely use that are NOT ugly. Not wanting to ruin Christmas or make a big deal out of it, I said nothing and kept it to myself. I was wishing that if he was going to get me ugly crap for Christmas that he would just not buy me anything at all. I was also musing about how we’ve been together for sixteen Christmases and we still can’t buy gifts for each other; me because he can’t be patient and buys things for himself whenever he wants them, and him because he’s stupid. Being that DH loves to poke bears with sticks, he confronted me about it after all the presents were opened and the boys were off building their Lego sets. I was still trying to get over myself and move on, but still pretty upset because he hadn’t taken anything that I had said to him to heart, and disappointed that we suck at buying presents for each other. (he got a shirt, cologne, Lawrence of Arabia box set on blu-ray, and a Blu-ray player – the Blu-ray player and Blu-ray box set he had bought for himself). He kept poking and prodding me and trying to get me to fight with him, and I kept trying to end the conversation so that I could move on and not be a sad cat, but he kept poking and poking until I said some not-nice things and told him I wanted him to return the gifts and to just drop it.

Plus: I ended up getting over myself rather quickly.

Plus: He told me to go buy some things for myself and I am SO going to take him up on that.

Plus: The boys loved all their presents and they made out like bandits.

Plus: I made a delicious Christmas dinner. So much so that the two hours I spent on my feet cooking was totally worth it.

Minus: The boys complained about dinner. I made ham and vegetables and didn’t even make them eat any of the weird vegetables (like Brussels sprouts, turnips, and sweet potatoes) that I made just for me.

Plus: When I told Dewey, who was the loudest complainer, how long I had been cooking and how hard I had worked on this dinner and how much it hurt my feelings that he was complaining about dinner, he apologized and stopped complaining which inspired Huey to stop complaining too. Later that night when we were finishing The Prisoner of Azkaban he gave me a big hug and told me again how sorry he was for complaining about dinner.

Plus: Other than the fight that DH picked with me, there was no fighting and peace for the whole day.

Plus: I was able to take the time for a full body facial/hair removal session/manicure and try out a bunch of products I had received from Sephora but hadn’t had the time to sample yet. This was very relaxing and made me super happy.

Minus: I wanted to spend some time writing, but I didn’t have time because I was cooking.

Plus: Nanaimo Bars

Overall, I am putting this Christmas in the Win column.

Hey did you know that it’s still Autumn?

Hey! You over there with the tinsel and the Christmas music that’s been playing since Halloween. You that are dreaming of snow and icicles and all that junk. You that are driving me nuts when it only rains instead of snows. You that rushed through Back to School and Halloween and Thanksgiving to get to the so-called most wonderful time of the year.

It’s. Still. Autumn.

I know that it’s a rule here in Utah that in-between seasons don’t count and we should only have two; Summer and Winter – but I am here to tell you that Autumn is STILL happening.

That’s right. September, October, November, AND December – all months of Autumn. I am not a Winter baby, I am an Autumn baby. (or Fall baby, which would explain all the clumsiness)

I’m so tired of people rushing through the seasons just to make Winter happen. I’m sick of not being able to relish in Autumn, it’s my favourite season and by golly I am going to enjoy it!!

So in honour of Autumn and in the spirit of my “What Summer Is” post, I am going to extol the virtues of Autumn.

Full Moon on Halloween night

Autumn starts with A, so that makes it Awesome.

Sorry – that was cheesy. I have a cold and my brain is not fully functioning.

Autumn starts out with mornings that are crisper than usual. The afternoons are still hot as heck, but the mornings and evenings are cool and lovely. Yardwork can be done because it’s finally not one thousand degrees and your face won’t melt off if you exert an iota of energy. You can start wearing socks on occasion and the feeling of the cotton stretching over your toes is welcome. It feels good to pull your jeans out of the back of the closet. You don’t have to shave your legs as often. There are back to school clothes and the excitement of a new year. You can open the windows. The house gets aired out.

As the days get progressively shorter and cooler, the layers come out. Long sleeved tshirts, cardigans, flannel button down shirts. It starts to rain and the leaves change colours. The fact that the mountains change colour into this cool rusty red make up for the lack of real rain. Sometimes there’s snow, but it doesn’t stick around and it’s still a form of precipitation, so I’ll take it.

There are apples and all the treats that come along with it; apple cider, apple pie, baked apples, caramel apples, apple Danish, etc. I love apples; their cheery red colour, their juciness, how they taste with peanut butter, how magic happens when they are combined with cinnamon and sugar.

Jack

There are pumpkins with their fun orange colour and weird shapes. There are pumpkin seeds, pumpkin and chocolate-chip cookies and bread, there is pumpkin pie and pumpkin spice. The smell of pumpkin spice is the best.

You can wear a tshirt and a turtleneck and a cardigan and a leather jacket and jeans and cords and tights and wool socks and boots. There are cute hats and gloves. You don’t have to wear a coat yet – just a jacket.

The colours are all gold and orange and red and brown and deep green. Autumn colours are my favourite.

There is the fun of Halloween and corn mazes and hay bales. There is Thanksgiving with all the food and remembering what you are thankful for. There are gourds and cornucopias. There is the beginning of the hockey season (usually).

There is the contrast of the orange leaves against the blue sky. The colour of the sky in Autumn is different. Bluer.

There is the smell of the heat coming on for the first time. There are open windows during the day and warm fuzzy blankets at night.

There is all kinds of change; from the weather to the trees to the types of clothes that you wear.

Muddied Timberlands from
walking the dog

Did I mention boots and hats and jackets? I know I did, but yeah.

There is snuggling up with a good book. There are good movies.

There is switching from cotton to flannel sheets. There is cashmere and there are slippers. There is so much coziness.

I know I mentioned boots, but they deserve many many mentions.

The air is better and the colours are better and even though everything is dying, everything feels like a new beginning because of all the change that is happening.

Holiday Drag

I have this love/hate relationship with the holidays.

I used to work in retail, so I have always blamed my BAH Humbug attitude on that, as if working retail has ruined Christmas forever.

I just hate the forced merriment. The we-have-to-get-together-and-like-it attitude. If I’m not going to go out of my way to see you during the year, then why the heck would I do it at the holidays?

The first Christmas that DH and I were married, I forced him to take me home to Vancouver for Christmas. We had a rare twelve inches of snow and we were driving a Honda CRX. Prior to moving to Utah, I had a grand total of four White Christmases (two of them were spent in Michigan). For anyone who doesn’t already know, the Pacific Northwest is not equipped for snow. First of all, there is a lot of humidity. That means ice. The snow doesn’t stick around for long because of the temperature and the rain. That means slush and flooding and more ice. Since snow is such a rarity, we only have the one plow. Also - hills. Right before we got to the border, we spun around on the highway a couple of times when we hit a particularly bad patch of ice. When we finally got to my neighbourhood (my street is a hill, by the way) we ended up plowing the road with our car. Our arrival was a surprise, so when I walked in the house screeching and moaning about the weather, I was in the living room before anyone realized it was me and not my sister making all that racket. That was the best part of the holiday. The trip home was even worse. We were stopped in Snoqualmie pass while they blasted for avalanches. Ice formed on the inside of the windows. The highway further south was closed down due to high winds, so we ended up in a Motel 6 on the border of Washington and Oregon and I had to miss an extra day of work. Utah and Idaho had no snow whatsoever. I have never been so happy to see dry roads in my life. “Never again!” saith DH. I couldn’t have agreed more.

I’m all for not travelling on the holidays, but for me that means no family. I guess that gets me out of the forced merriment, but I like my family a little bit and I haven’t seen them in four years and that bums me out.

I also hate the stress. Having children has made it worse, because you have to make it great and memorable for them. Hearing all the I-want-this and I-need-that scrooges me right the heck out. Christmas is supposed to be about the birth of Christ, not presents. I feel like a bad mother for not teaching them better. When I get stressed, I tend to bury my head in the sand and put things off which stresses me out more to the point that I’m doing my Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. When I was single, I just made that my holiday tradition. It was fun then, but having that Christmas list going on repeat in the back of my head all season makes for a very grumpy rantgirl.

I always find that once I am done with Christmas shopping, I magically get the Christmas Spirit, which is why I always try to get it done before Thanksgiving. I always fail, but I’m done dragging myself down for not getting everything done. I haven’t even started yet, but at least I’ve written my list and checked it twice, so I will be done soon.

Until then, BAH HUMBUG!!