On Why I've Fallen And Can't Get Up

Because when I spend all my free time/drool on my keyboard/abandon all hope of keeping up with the house
Because when I invest valuable time on pinterest nurturing my creative side, finding inspiration which in turn I use to make my home a sanctuary, thereby immeasurably enhancing the lives of my children and all who cross my threshold...

It makes me a better person.

Really, it does.

It has to, or I'll be forced to reevaluate all my priorities, and that would take away valuable free time which I'd rather spend on pinterest.

Allow me to expound.

Recently during my forays into bettering myself, I came across the image above. It brought me fully into a place where I was able to speak in unknown tongues. I may have shouted out;

"SHUT. UP!!!!"
"I WANNA BE YOUR NEW BEST FRIEND!!"

Among other possible brilliant, eloquent, profound expulsions.

Why? You might ask? (being less nurtured, less informed about pinterest, less wise about your own use of free time)
Because I care about you, I'm willing to point out all the things about this image that make me a better person. If you listen closely, you may find that you have also developed enviable personal qualities of your own.

I've provided the image again so that you can follow more closely. I'm willing to point out areas of brilliance, in order to disciple you in your quest towards awesomeness.

1. 
   
   The tablecloth. Did not come from Wal-Mart, Zellers, Dollarama, or Bowring. Nope. It came from a boot sale, or a tag sale or an op shop, or a thrift shop or a garage sale or a nearly deceased auntie.
   



2. 
   
   The broad, white, distressed coffee table. Need I say more.




3. 
   
   The entirely NON-matchy matchy furniture. The orange, pink, turquoise, white, grey, and brown that totally work together. They just love and accept one another like some church groups of my imagination.




4. 
   
   The quirky chandelier over the table. It's entirely precious.




5. 
   
   A brown iron framed bed in the dining room? Outrageous. I love it.




6. 
   
   That lamp shade.




7. 
   
   The banner bunting over the bed.




8. 
   
   The two fireplaces. One painted ridiculously pink. I adore that kind of nonsensibility
   

And there's more. If you've listened carefully, and you're a proper kind of person, you'll go now and find it for yourself. At pinterest.

(and. pinterest doesn't place huge annoying spaces in its text like blogger does. Blogger has been really committed to unwarranted large spaces. It really bugs me. Just sayin')

Frugal Living: DIY

Christmas is expensive.
So is summertime; what with the holidays, the car trips, the snack foods, and the cooler drinks.
September is outrageous! All the school fees, lesson start-ups, school supplies, overpriced agendas, sport fees, special groceries, new shoes......
Spring is expensive too. It must be because everything else is, and at some point when I wasn't thinking at all, I got a house, four kids, some vehicles, a camper, some cats, and then a couple of guinea pigs just for variety.

So every now and again when I have a moment to catch my breath, I decide to make a few frugal changes to my lifestyle. So that August isn't still nipping at my heels while I'm decorating a tree for spendthrift days of December.

So, this fall, I thought maybe I should do grocery runs when I can also accomplish a few other errands along the way. Combine trips, so to speak.

Brian does this sort of thing. He drives to another town every morning on his way to work so that he can swim some manic amount of laps in a cold, wet swimming pool. He's into muscles that way. Then he goes to Superstore to get the deals before he heads off to work. What a savvy guy.

Well, the other day, he went into Superstore and filled up his cart. When it came time to pay the piper, he realized that he'd transferred his debit and credit cards to a different pair of pants entirely, and he was left... figuratively... with his pants down. No way to pay for the goods.

Never mind that. I had to go into the city just that evening to pick up some fabric that had been donated to the bag cause. I'd efficiently roll the groceries and the fabric pick-up into one convenient errand. Furthermore, I'd shop frugally.

So, off roared daughter and I to the Giant Tiger. I have a secret love affair with that weird little chain. You never know what you might find.

No disappointments this day- four big yogurts for $5.00?! wow! Load 'er up, sista.
Then the lettucemayomeatapplesgranolabarsmilkcheesecreamjuiceboxespizzaryebreadwatermelon
and off to the cashier we go. With half the groceries in bags, I reached into my bag and found.

kleenex, a diaper, and a pen.
I'd inadvertently grabbed the "we're going for a walk" bag and left my "bag complete with wallet" hanging on a hook just inside the back door.

Apologizing more times that legal or necessary, I made my humble exit, empty handed.

I had no means to go for nachos and margueritas; beer or spirits; or even a Starbucks coffee.

Which made that particular day
Very, Very successful in my quest for frugal living.

How To Make Salsa

(heretofore referred to as "The Tomato Story"

There's nothing quite like home-cooked salsa. Canned in the midnight days of summer; the ripening days of fall; and munched down all winter long. It's kind of like canning sunshine.

Now, I'm no miser when it comes to sharing my secrets. Please enjoy this, the second post in the "DIY Series: A Beautiful Thing". Feel free to take notes, republish this to your cookbooks, and share with neighbours and friends.

Start with the freshest possible ingredients. If you're worth your salt, you'll grow your own. Organic. Free range. Pesticide free. Sung to. And petted.

Then use the best salsa recipe ever to have been salsified. "Mary's Most Amazing Salsa".Spend several hours chopping vegetables. You weren't doing anything anyway, and its been a prolific year for tomatoes. Cut up enough for four recipes. Dash out to the store for some additional celery and onions, and weep your way to the finish line.

Glance at the calendar. Recognize that it's tapas Friday and you have to get your house to shiney perfection within the next three hours. Deposit the roughly 147 cups of veggies into the largest bowl you've ever imagined in your life. Glance into your kitchen fridge and surmise that the door must contain more than ten percent lycra, because there's no other possible way that it would remain closed.

Remember that we have a "beer fridge" in the garage. Grip bowl in both hands and proceed to garage. Remember that your brother gave you all his leftover cabin food when he hightailed it out of the country. The beer fridge contains no beer and lots of random groceries. Definitely no room for the biggest bowl in the universe.
Reason that a concrete floor is always cold on the feet.

Place salsa on cold concrete and proceed to fumigate the house for company.

Eat.

Sip wine.

Laugh heartily at many funnies.

Go to bed really late and really happy.

Get a morning phonecall from some of my favourite people asking if I'd like to join them for a trip to the St Norbert farmers market.

Happily oblige.

Oggle colourful vegetables, finger creative button jewellery, and make some new Hutterite friends who sell their bread and baking to support an orphange in Liberia. Buy some spelt flour to embellish my image of being a tomato-growing, salsa-canning homemaker.

Stop at my sister's for a glass of wine.... some dinner.... and a movie.

Go to bed late- tired and happy.

Sunday morning, resume salsa making.

Observe that the fruit flies are having a grand feast, and that I've inadvertently grown penicillin.

Throw the whole mess into compost.

Go out for nachos and beer.

DIY: The First In The Series : The Beginning of a Beautiful Thing

Find a lovely dresser beside a dumpster. Drive under the cover of dark to avoid shameful exposure to townspeople with dignity. Load curbside furniture into backside of van and drive home very carefully so as to avoid newly acquired prize from sliding out of rear of vehicle.Note the likely reasoning for depositing dresser at curbside. Recognize my own thrifty- and resourcefulness. Feel a sense of pride growing at the possibility of becoming the next, great recycler extraordinaire. Begin to imagine a huge following of fellow curbside rescuers. My own pinterest page. My own shop filled with beautiful, rescued furniture. Becoming mortgage free in a manner of weeks after sure success. Gaze at the strong, stately legs. Lovely lines.
Begin to perspire potentiality.

Remove hardware.
Sand existing paint to prep for The New Old Look.
Cover in several coats of clean, white paint.

Begin to dream of the apparently effortless appearance of the Distressed Effect upon completion.

Go to sleep.
Wake up to rain.
Recall that there hadn't been rain in approximately seventeen weeks,
Hence the furniture fix-up station in the grand, dry outdoors.

Note the painting roller soaking in rain water and

the prized dresser now appearing rather damp.
Note a veneer on curb project that is beginning to lift.

Refuse to lose heart.
Determine that this is, in fact, a gift.

Peel off veneer to reveal a beautiful wood grain.

Erupt in praise of the heaven's rains.

Dresser shall be even more covet-able that formerly ascertained!

Enthusiastically begin to slide wooden drawers into dresser.

Look at rescue project + night of rain a little more closely. Become fully aware of the rather pronounced swelling of its natural fibers, making it utterly impossible to fit back into the dresser. Rather like a January attempt to fit into the size seven Calvin Klein jeans that one shelved in the closet from grad 1985.

Hurl the dresser off the deck in a sudden burst of disillusionment. Commission strong husband to stomp upon item.

Enlist son to build a large backyard fire.

Go for drinks.

Dear Febreze

"Febreze® believes everyone deserves to breathe happy, and we want to prove it every day, to real people, in real life. "

These are your words.

Lifted from your web page.

I'm a real life, real people. And I'm not happy.

My children watch way too much television. And if that isn't enough to make me unhappy, I am vicariously subjected to your disgusting commercials at frequencies well beyond tolerable.

I like thrift shops. But I don't like watching your suckers sit in a filthy excuse for a thrift store smelling rotten old sneakers, sitting on a bedbug infested couch and making cooing noises while they inhale your "happiness-in-a-spray-bottle". I find it disturbing.

And just for your info, my peeps in the "new to you" industry don't put out filthy sh*t like that.

Here's the other thing. I like to spend an obscene amount of time on pinterest. I also like to scroll through hundreds of pages of craftgawker, and pin, pin, pin to my hearts content.

But then you know what happens? While I'm merrily scrolling along, catching visions of red, turquoise, and yellow.... a nasty pop-up of a hysterically happy woman in a blindfold smelling a foul looking string mop takes over my line of vision. Do I want to pin this?! I THINK NOT!

Why the impassioned response to your ads? Because. I personally think that febreze stinks. More than soiled running shoes, kitty litter boxes, tattered couches, and blue cheese. I used to work in a facility that was maniacally committed to your product, and sprayed their couch in its sinus clogging matter fortnightly. Yuck. It was impossible to relax on that couch. I felt violated and assaulted at every subtle shift in my darrierre.

Febreze. I deserve to breathe happy.
In real life, as a real person.
So quit butting into my pinterest and generally spraying your nasty attitude in all sorts of places that I don't want to smell it in.

Or I'm going to make a real life really big stink.

life is just so full of blessings

Somebody fed the dog corn.

Which said dog ate, then puked onto the blanket that was (fortunately) strewn across the couch.

The blanket got balled up and deposited outside the bathroom/laundry room.

The daughter got sudden onset stomach flu, and rushing off to the bathroom, she came up to the locked door as

someone else was taking a shower.

Seeing the balled up couch blanket outside the bathroom door, she made do with what was immediately available.

Being not squeamish, and preventing the possibility of toddlers taking an interest in the much- dampened quilt....I took the whole mess outdoors to spray the worst of it away.

Having accomplished all that (and more) I decided to write out a cheque for the speeding ticket my husband incurred while driving his fancy new car to the big city for a haircut.

And its just past noon.

Oh Boy!
I can hardly wait to see what the afternoon will bring!

Well Worth the Read

Perception.

When warped, is the start of much of our troubles.

Once I started reading this painfully honest memior of life with anxiety and its evil stepsisters- anorexia and bulimia, I couldn't stop til I got to the end. And then I wanted more.

I must commend this actress, living in the very public eye, for revealing her dark, dark journey for all the world to read. I know she'll be appreciated by any woman who has viewed herself as ugly, inadequate, a fraud, too wide, etc, etc. But there will inevitably be those who misunderstand her words, her life, her journey.

And I'm sorry about that for her sake.

But I'm really grateful that she has the courage to take it on.

On Why I"ll Not Be The Next Super Model

(alternate title: "she worries she'll never really be well"
and/or: "she wants more for her daughters... and yours")

Starting out is easy.
three cups of coffee.
black.

no cigarettes since I couldn't see the sustainability of it.
not that I haven't considered.

Several hours later, I get the hunger.
and remember.
cut back on carbs
sugar
fat
carbs.

Should I eat an egg?
Not with those garden tomatoes flaunting their taut red skin there on my counter.
Right next to the shrine.
the bread box
and the butter.

Its ok to eat some carbs for breakfast.
tis the start of the day, with many miles to travel.

Another black caffiene gets me to the lunch hour.
fishy crackers for the kids
pasta
and sauce
toast.

Carbs.
mmmmmm.

Don't want a salad out of the wilted fridge zucchini, three week old carrots, and absolutely no lettuce or spinach leaves. Yuck.

Tomatoes with toast is good!
sooooo good.

Three o'clock and kid snack time.
I'm looking hungrily at my own limbs
and imagining life without
handsful of cheerios,
teddy bears
oatmeal cookies
puffed wheat cake

What could I eat and not
induce
the guilt??

But I'm famished and there's
chocolate zucchini muffins
flax bagels
salted peanuts

And who should dwell on carbohydrates at a time like this?!
We're hungry!
and we've miles to go.

By half past four, the wine is looking chill.
In an hour I'll be faced with the second shift.
Dinner making.
Laundry sorting.
Sandbox from under couch vacuuming.

And there's bacon.
and cheese perogies.

And a garden tomato
on the side.

I remember my objective thoughts on aging and the expected shift in metabolic function.
I remember something about sugars, starches, size eights.

and I'm utterly unwilling to boil some eggs with a side of boiled brocolli.

I want the delicious life.

It's a shame I've been made to believe
tis only good
in
lesser.

and I find
i want
so much.

Closin' Time

It was time to unpack her bags, and reset her early morning alarm.
She knew she'd be happy to see their little faces at her door again.
She knew they would make her laugh and she would marvel again at the wonder wrapped in pre-school packages.
She knew she'd feel relieved at the return of routine, she'd enjoy living in the back yard, and filling their days with the simple pleasures of walks, playground, and sprinkler.

Still. She mourned the passing of summer with its trips to the lake, books at the beach, and languishing midday patio meals with friends too long neglected.

Summer, you've been good to me.
You've given me the hot, bright days that make me happy. You've brought me old friends, time with family, camping trips under tall pines. Fresh beans from the garden. Zucchini. Strawberries. You've filled my pores with rich heat that will sustain me in these upcoming basement days of January.

But its hard to say good-bye.

A Part Of Our Proud Heritage

Mennonite

In Niverville

Sews in her basement.

Entirely Too Late......

.............it dawned on her.

There was simply no time whatsoever in which to fit in

her job.

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.