Hi. My Name is Joyce and I Have Various and Numerous Issues

Dear Seven Readers of the blog I called; "Be kind to your thighs".

It turns out that I am waaaay too dysfunctional to write such a deep and mystical blog with the type of title that indicates that its writer is actually kind to her thighs.

She's not.

She has dark and unpublishable thoughts about various parts of her body. She's actually very messed up- spending hours a day thinking about how treadmills are such a grand idea- how she has one in her basement, how good it would be for her thighs, her heart, and her overall health if she would get her ass back onto that treadmill.

She isn't thinking kind thoughts about her thighs at all.
She's actually sort of a farce.

So, if you're looking around for wisdom, she just noticed that she didn't have any around when it comes to Thigh Management.

Sorry about that. Thanks for giving me a chance though.
If you notice that you're not on the reading list any more, it's because there isn't one.
Your card has been revoked until this writer can scrounge up some kindness.

And that might take some time.

A Collection of Random and Remarkably Profound Observations

• Even adults who knowlingly clothe themselves in triple way stretch jersey shirts with winnie the pooh emblems (complete with adorable pictoral representations) are deserving of true love and joy in this lifetime.


• Smokers who gather outside of hotel buildings with a drink in one hand and a large belly in the other sometimes inspire envy in me. They're so utterly free of anxiety about health and general damnation.


• grief is a sneaky little bastard. It will smite you quite unexpectantly when you are up to your neck in a well-written novel and leave you breathless and sobbing in a small bathroom hoping no one is in immediate or dire need to evacuate.


• Speaking of which. Everyone. Even remarkably pretty people who don't smoke or overindulge in any shameful ways whatsoever, have the need for a toilet every single day.


• Children start out quite small, miraculous, needy, and moist. Within minutes, they acquire driver licences, intellects, and the shocking ability to survive for long periods outside of their host.


• This phenomenon can induce small bathroom explosions of tears and emotions- not unlike well-written novels. (ok, so you have to know-- Miriam Toews; A Complicated Kindness. Not the first time I've read it. The second time. But the first time that I've read it since my brother died an untimely death. So, now when I read "Vauxhall" in her writings, and I know darned well that it's because she experienced certain experiences within the unconfining confines of my deceased brother's Vauxhall..... back in the 80's.....when they were co-teens in that East Village with roads that led to nowhere......it makes me weep. Jest sayin')


• And finally.


• Life is weird. Of this I am utterly certain.

Camping

There's this thing that really functional families do during heat waves.
They pack up all their bedding, most of their dishes and a countertop oven, fold out chairs and homemade muffins, camera, tylenol, swimsuits, coolers on wheels,......
And the dog.

Then they go sleep in a hot little house on wheels while the Wonder Bread grows cultures and three plums and cherries jostle for space in the microscopic trailer fridge.

The blankets smell weird.
It's humid.
The dish cloth is sandy and your neighbours brought all their kids.

Over-achieving, fun-loving families really enjoy this sort of thing.
But we're a little messed up.

So, when we go camping, it includes going out for breakfast with friends.
And making new friends with bigger fridges full of delicious food that they love to share.

(Yum.

I like being dysfunctional.)

Then we like to come home to a BIG fridge (full of badly decayed unidentified objects) , air conditioning, a washer and dryer, and the Great Indoors.

To celebrate our attempt at behaving like a normal family, we like to microwave various edibles and then lay around with the kids and watch something completely unnatural on the biggest TV we can find.

Not that cleaning up the camper isn't another fun-filled family activity all on its own.

Ministry

There are a lot of things to celebrate in summer.
A lot.

So many, in fact, that it's hard to find the time to adequately describe them.

But.
One thing I don't have in my fabulous Manitoba life is a Big Ass Truck.
So that's why I had to travel to Alberta.
Everyone there has a Big Ass Truck.

And for company, I brought along three sisters.

They're so old that they stop at the side of the road to stare at tiger lillies. But I had my reasons for accomodating them.

One, because she shared her air miles with me.

The second because she looked lonely and pathetic.

And the third because she's a snappy dresser.


It wasn't easy.

But ministry rarely is now, is it?

Besides.

They had pretty decent taste in hotels and coffee, they look lovely when they smile, and they all badly needed an outing. Most of the time they just crochet. It was a nice oppurtunity for them all to crochet somewhere else.

And we had family to visit. My eldest niece who is expecting her first bambino. They're classy people with excellent taste in cookware, so that helped to off set the issues that my sisters brought along.

Not that I have issues.

The highlight of my trip was this garbage bag of old fabric and dresses from my nephew-in-law's grandmother.

Sheer bliss.

But I'm not weird.

Nope.

Just to prove it, I spent an inordinate amount of time in antique and funk stores around Whyte Ave in Edmonton. (yummy stuff). I found out that I'm actually quite wealthy. A lot of the stuff that I've got hanging around the place that I rescued from thrift shops and dumpsters is shop worthy. It's just possible that I could retire and become independently wealthy today if I just knew how to market my stuff.

But I like my stuff.

And I want more.

But I'm not weird.


Because even if I did sell my stuff and had a pocket full of change, I'd just want to buy other cool stuff. Like this street art on Whyte. And that dress.

And, I've got everything I need.

An awesome family (extended).

An awesome family (immediate).

Some great summer adventures already behind me.

And more to explore.

The very best part of my vacation was coming home.

For fun, I like to dress up in vintage nighties and clean the tops of my cupboards.

And view pictures of what occured in my absence.

But I'm not weird.

I'll leave all that for my sisters.