Feeling Good

Most valuable gifts…

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I believe I have mentioned in the past that I am a keeper of memories (aka:  a hoarder).  I do like to purge every once in a while and it’s usually clothing that goes out the door.  However, there are some things that I just can’t part with.  Year after year I look at items that I should just dispose of, but I can’t seem to do it.  Oh, it’s not the dollar value of these items, as they are not monetarily worthy to anyone else.  These items are my personal, valuable treasures.

While dusting today (sometimes the dust bunnies are almost lift size and just need to vacate the premises) I was cleaning off a picture frame that The Princess gave us.  It’s a lovely picture… in her eyes.  Imagine our surprise when Wiseguy and I opened this valuable gift.  There, in the hand painted picture frame, was a picture of the two of us in a dip, after completing one of our typical polkas in the kitchen.  I have no makeup on and my hair is in big, huge curlers.  Light blue ones to be specific.  Wiseguy has on an old t-shirt with holes in it.  Why was this her favourite picture of us?  We were dancing and smiling and happy.  Isn’t that what the definition of  “the best” picture is?  We know she put a lot of thought into it because she also glued on little round plastic circles to the frame, that were light blue, “to match your hair curlers,” she had said with a huge grin.  Valuable gift?  Absolutely nothing like it!

Wiseguy and I got together when The Princess was only 7, so I have a very large collection of items she drew or made, as well as items that she and I made together.  I don’t know if I could ever part with these items.

Even The Debater…his birthday and christmas cards had drawings with lots of colours and so many different items pictured in them.  He used a different colour for different sentences.  Even later, when he started using a computer, the cards were fantastic works of art.  Wiseguy wanted to throw out our card collection box.   Luckily I was home and scooped them out of his hand.  Nope.  Can’t part with these!  “Look at the one he drew of you in the tractor-trailer and him sitting beside you in the cab.”  Yeah, you can remember the trip, but that picture, drawn with so much love and feeling..well, I think a scrapbook shall have to be made for these works of art.

The Wiz (although a teenager already when I became part of the family) had completed his own objet d’art.  He had wordworking talents.  Good thing too because he was a fidget.  (Actually, he still IS a fidget.)  Fingers always had to be doing something.  He was usually taking something apart to “see how it worked”.  We have this one reindeer that was constructed out of wood and painted with little googly eyes glued to its face. I love it.  I love it so much that I actually stopped packing it away after Christmas.  I like looking at it everyday.  It makes me smile.

I have a collection of fake flowers.  I have cut and paste pictures.  I have Mother’s Day cards that rhyme and some that don’t.  I have some with glitter glued to them (now covered in plastic wrap so I am not sparkly after looking at it).  As the kids got older the gifts got fancier, but one thing remained the same, they really know our personalities and what things we like.  They always get us gifts we love.

Wiseguy and I are now at that phase where we keep telling them, “save your money because we don’t need anything.”  Hmmm, that phrase annoys me when my mother says it, so I try not to say it.  I know all their gifts are given from the heart and the joy of watching the recipient’s reaction is heartwarming.

Maybe one day I will have the courage and strength to actually chuck all my homemade gifts.  I am sure that day of reckoning will come.

But for now, I will continue to smile whenever I dust off my most valuable gifts.

P.S.  I have one gift that I love to give everyone.  This quote says it all:

♥  A hug is the perfect gift.  One size fits all  ♥

 

With Love, From Your Future Conscience

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‘Tis the season.  The season for weddings.  I have a lovely collection of invitations at home for upcoming weddings this year.  Some are taking place close to home, while others are at least a 6 hour drive away.  All of them are family weddings.  Coming from a large family means that I shall be receiving invitations for a long time to come.  Initially it was cousins’ weddings and now their kids are getting married.  The celebrations continue.  Family get-togethers abound and and there is always the “OMG I haven’t seen you in forever” which, by the end of the night leads up to, “we MUST stay in touch” phrase.  Indubitably, this does not occur, but the desire for it is honest and true.  All this brings me to ponder wedding celebrations and what brides (and/or grooms) consider to be most important.

Wiseguy and I had an interesting wedding.  It began with the intimate proposal.  It was so passionate.  We were in the kitchen of our apartment and Wiseguy looked at me and said, “Wanna get married?”  My equally romantic reply, “OK.”  (See, we are huge romantics aren’t we?)  Wiseguy picked the date of the wedding.  “How about April 1st?”  LOL!  (April Fool’s Day!)   That would’ve been awesome!  So true to our personalities.  But then he changed his mind.  He pondered and asked, “how about Valentine’s Day?”  Now that was sweet.  Then he continued his thought:  “That way I won’t forget our anniversary and you won’t have to kill me.”  I love that man.

We had just over a month to plan our “perfect” wedding.  It wasn’t going to be elaborate.  In our eyes, the most important thing to us was that the kids were part of our wedding day.  Wiseguy actually thought it would be even better if we asked them for their approval before proceeding with any plans.  They agreed that our getting married was a fine idea.  We were initally just going to hop a plane to Vegas, but not having the kids be part of it was not what we wanted.  Family was always very important to us.

I had a wedding gown that had been given to me when my SIL was closing up her wedding gown consignment business.  Brand new gown and only 5 years old.  Still not too old to be in style.  We got Wiseguy into a cool tux with a funky purple, pink vest.  (The Princess still remembers the special, pretty dress we bought her for the occasion.) We got married at high noon (shot gun wedding right?) at city hall.  Our reception venue…a little odd.  I had a friend who was vegetarian and at the time I had no idea what venue would be best, foodwise, so that everyone’s pallets would be happy.  Then I had a brilliant idea!  I reserved a section at a well known restaurant.  The Mandarin…Chinese buffet.  Yup, I wandered around the buffet line in my beautiful gown.  Did I care?  Nope…I was having the time of my life because I was there with my new husband.  It was great!  Just some family and friends and some great laughs. We had our picture taken by one of the wait staff.  It was given to us in a “Happy Birthday” frame.  Neat right? Memorable?  Absolutely.  (I still have that polaroid picture and the frame it came in.)

If I was to do it over again would I change anything?  Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t.  Definitely not your typical style proposal nor wedding, but for me, it was perfect. I have been to extravagant weddings in halls with huge chandeliers and a harpist playing as you entered.  The food was gourmet and there was French service for the dinner.  There was a 5 piece band playing.  I have been to weddings in less extravagant halls.  All decorated by the bride and her crew of bridesmaids and ushers.  The food was delivered on platters and you served yourself.  There was no band, but there was a dj providing the entertainment.  I have been to many a wedding and many a different venue.  What was the most important part to me about each wedding?  I enjoyed myself the most when the bride and groom were enjoying themselves. 

Here is a small note I would like to dedicate to future brides and grooms: 

Dear brides and grooms.  Your wedding day is special.  Brides, you will feel like a princess because the man you love is there beside you, waiting to become your husband.  As long as your family and friends are with you, you will feel the love and happiness that they are sharing with you that day.  You have your bridesmaids and ushers there to help you out and make the day a wonderful occasion for you.  Use them.  They are a vital part of making your day fantastic.  The most important thing about your wedding day is to love every minute of it.  Enjoy your day.  Laugh a lot.  If anything goes wrong…laugh it off.  It will make for great stories later.  Your wedding day is a one-day spectacular and special event.  Make it a memorable one.  Love…your future conscience.  XOXO

It takes a village…

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Wiseguy was a very lucky man today.  No…a VERY lucky grandfather today.  He got to babysit…nope….entertain…little Kennie.  Believe me….she played games with him as much as he played games with her.  A battle of wits.  Entertaining?  Yes.  Tiring?  Absolutely.

Growing up, my mother always told me that she felt bad because I didn’t have grandparents or great grandparents.  “I have to be your mother, grandmother, great grandmother, best friend.”  That never made sense to me.  I thought she was just rambling…you know…the way mothers always do, and it never made sense.

Well, becoming an aunt was a learning experience.  I remember talking to my first nephew and niece (only 17 months apart) and trying to impart words of wisdom without having them burst into tears.  Then later, I became a stepmother.  Mother might have been easier, don’t know, but stepmother, to tweens and teens, not easy either.  Lots of “behind the door” tears because I couldn’t show hurt or failure.  I lived and survived it and learned a lot from that experience. 

Now, we’re at the fun part of  life.  Becoming a grandma at 42.  Although surprising, it was AWESOME!  I still have energy to keep up with the wee wonder-girl!  Our Kennie (who will be 2 years old at the end of august) is just hilarious.  Her two-syllable vocabulary and her imitations are amazing and fun and entertaining and adorable.  You can see how much time her mom spends with her.  She teaches her many things from singing to counting (by the way…counting starts like this..you say “one” and she continues with “two” …there is no “one” in her vocab.  Anyway, toddlers are fun.  Entertaining, fun, and…extremely tiring.

So, when Wiseguy told me that he got to babysit (ahem…hang out with) little Kennie, I was jealous…in a happy way.  It’s nice for him to have fun play time with little Kennie. 

Honestly, kids have an amazing view of the world and what is determined as “fun”.  Grandpa was brilliant.  He decided that it was time to water the flowers in the backyard.  “Kennie do.”  Yup, the hose, full of water, was initially aimed at watering the flowers.  Then it became a fountain, spraying on Kennie and the puppies and everywhere BUT the flowers.  Fun? Totally!  What else did the dynamic duo do? 

They ran around the house.  They drew pictures.  They ate fruit.  They played with the “Gogs” (aka dogs).  They had  lunch.  Then grandma came home at lunch and luckily got to put little Kennie down for a nap.  Nothing like watching a wee child sleep in peace.  Those little breaths in and out and that peaceful look on their face.  Absolute comfort and happiness.

After work, Grandma came home to the welcoming, happy face of wee Kennie and “come”…time to play.  We forget to play.  We adults play, but sadly, it’s usually a play to win situation.  Grandma just had to play with Kennie by dancing.  A little boogie woogie and giggling with mommy.  Then I had Kennie help set the table because “Kennie do” was all I heard.

Grandpa Wiseguy was happy.  He got to have fun playing games with the pre-two year old all day.  She had a two hour nap.  She scarfed down lunch.  She gave lots of hugs and held his hand and helped water the flowers and played drums and just gabbed and laughed and played with grandpa. 

After Princess and Little Kennie went home after dinner, I got a lovely text message “out like a lightbulb”.  I was so happy that Kennie had a  wonderful day with both grandpa and great-grandpa.  I texted back:  Grandpa out too.

Sweet dreams Grandpa.  You done good.

(Just a small note:   I have heard this phrase many times before, but in case you haven’t…it takes a village to raise a child.  The more the merrier.  All hands on deck.  Lots of supervision, lots of love, and lots of different views from different generations.  Yes, it does take a loving village to raise a child.)

Agitated, aggravated, annoyed, exasperated, irked, irritated…aaaahhhh!

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Ever had one of those days when, for some reason, everything just seems to annoy you.  I mean everything.  The sun is too bright.  You hit every red light.  Your hot lunch gets cold.  Your phone rings too often.  You get phone hang ups.  You get everyone asking for something and there just aren’t enough hours in the day.  Worst of all, every question that anyone asks you just seems irrelevant (basically stupid).  Well, my day started like that and I was getting really angry and I had no idea why?

I slept wonderfully.  Last night I was baking banana bran muffins and blueberry muffins and they turned out fantastic.  So good and moist.  A miracle really!  I woke up well rested because I slept with the window open and there had been a nice, cool breeze.  No humidity whatsoever.  I had wonderful, happy dreams too.  Just super!  I had pre-made my breakfast the day before, so no need to rush to scarf down food before work. I even had all green lights driving in.  Got to work seven minutes early.  So why oh why, was I feeling so agitated?

My phone was ringing and, really, it’s my job to pleasantly answer it, but I felt like everyone calling today was just calling to irk me.  I had two hang ups within 20 minutes.  I had two from non-existent people…they said, not a word.  People coming to the office were looking for people who were either on holidays or on lunch, and they felt like hanging around and chit-chatting.  Grrrrrrrr…I was NOT in a chit-chat mood!  What the heck was my problem today?

I decided to Google my question:  “Why am I angry today?  Well, it seems that many, many, many people have searched this question before.  There are links to numerous websites that are really just dedicated to anger management.

I checked out a few of them.  Some explained that I was suffering from depression.  That was more for the “you wake up and feel angry all day, everyday” people.  Mine was just one angry morning.  Most had various forms of this advice:  feel your anger and then let it go.  That sounded silly….so I decided to try it.  I cursed (inwardly) and asked myself why I was angry and since there didn’t seem to be a good answer, I dropped it…like a hot potato  (good advice I found on Tiny Buddha).  Anyway, I oftentimes find that when I am frustrated I just let the powers that be take over for me and I will receive my answer in one strange way or another.  Today it was via Google.  Sounds crazy, but not as crazy as being stuck in a funk for no apparent reason. 

The most interesting thing was that, after I had dropped it, I did feel better.  Suddenly I remembered all the good things about today.  The sun was shining, brightly, and beautifully.  I remembered that my drive in to work was beyond fantastic.  It was like all the cars had moved out of my way to let me get through those green lights.  My breakfast was delicious, and eaten without interruption, so I got to enjoy a nice, hot meal.  Even lunch was great.  I had volatile spaghetti.  (Volatile because I usually end up with spaghetti splatter somewhere on my person.)  Yet, today, not even a speck of red and I was wearing a white sweater!  Miracle?  Maybe.  Changing my attitude actually changed everything around me (or maybe just my perception of it) but same happy result.

Oddly, the phone ended up ringing less and the callers were legit…no more hangups.  The favour asking, for some reason, had dissipated.  I was having a happy, feel good day.  I will have to remember the Hot Potato of Anger trick next time I’m ready to lose my mind and freak out on some unsuspecting soul asking for a favour. 

Either that or my favourite backup plan.  I read the children’s book Alexander, and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.  (Maybe I’ll move to Australia.)

Remember to look up…

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Does your brain have these kinds of thoughts running through it:  I hope there isn’t a big line up at the grocery store.  Just have to grab a few things and then go home and let the dogs out quickly.  I have to drop off my library books because they are due back today.  Oh I must remember to get a new battery for my watch.  I hope that meat is thawed for dinner.  What else should I make with it?  Darn, forgot about the dry cleaning.  I’ll get that tomorrow.  No, drat, I can’t.  I need that shirt for tomorrow.  I was having a typical crazy day like that.  Then something happened.   I had to stop at yet ANOTHER red light.  Aw….c’mon!  This is a long light too!  I huffed and puffed and looked at the clock then sat back and looked up.  I smiled.  I forgot how beautiful the sky was.

So, I sat there at this everlasting, red-light, intersection, and smiled like a crazy person.  I saw the puffy white clouds just hanging around.  I saw two birds chirping and whizzing about each other, just playing and having fun.  Then a bee flew by (ok, I closed my window for that one) but it was pretty.  Then I noticed the escarpment and how pretty the trees looked in the afternoon sun.  Deep breath and relax.  I thought, “I will make it to every place I need to be and everything will be fine.”

I do believe in a higher being.  Being Catholic I grew up with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.  I have read up on other religions as well.  There is always a god of some sort.  There is something that watches over us and if we actually just believe that everything will be fine, and let this higher being take control, our lives will be easier.

I have found that the older I get the more I realize what is most important in life.  I will play and cuddle with my dogs instead of vacuuming.  Dust will always be there (and it will outlive me), but spending happy times with those around me is what matters most.  I stress a lot less about cleaning. 

I used to actually collapse into a dishevelled pile in a corner whenever I just finished cleaning and then found crumbs, again, on the floor.  WHY ME!  Crazy right?  I do think about how my “perfection problem” used to affect everyone.  I would want every meal perfect.  I would want my house spotless.  If something was not going right I would lose my mind and yell at the people I most cared about.  Why?  Why did I find inanimate objects to be more important than the living, breathing people and animals around me?  That was an awakening moment.

Now, if a meal screws up or I run out of time, no biggie.  I know that everything will be fine.  I will have my internal peace and those people who love me won’t care if everything is perfect.  Those that aren’t particularly my biggest fans, well, I realize that I can’t and won’t be everyone’s favourite person.  My opinion of myself is what matters most.  By loving myself, and who I am, I can’t help but be a happier person and those around me will be happier too (mostly because I won’t be freaking out on everyone). 

Sure, I still have my meltdown moments (Wiseguy can attest to that).  It usually happens when I think I’m all on my own doing everything.  When I remember to look up and see how everything is working out fine for wildlife, I realize that the universe is taking care of me as well, if I would just let it.  Have some faith and go with the flow.

Molto Bene !

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About three years ago, I told Wiseguy that we should move to Venice.  No, I don’t speak Italian.  I don’t have any Italian friends.  (I do have some Italian relatives…but I non parlo Italian).  I think Vespas are just the coolest ride ever!  I love any and all pasta dishes.  I have an absolute addiction to pizza.  Your question is most likely, why Venice and not another Italian city? 

Back in 1989, I went on a gondola ride.  I was enamoured with the view of the old, tall buildings.  The gondolier talked about the history of the city.  He pointed out historical landmarks.  He spoke of the Venetians, past and present.  I loved the way we glided slowly through the water.  (Mind you, at that time it, it smelled more like a sewer than the sea.)  I loved how the gondoliers would sing when they got to an intersection to let other gondoliers know that they were approaching.  My mind began to wander.  I imagined myself sitting at one of the cafes sipping a glass of wine, watching all the tourists rush about.  I pictured myself living in one of the apartment buildings.  I dreamt of going out daily to get fresh baked bread.  I would learn the language and speak it fluently.  I would be a Venetian.  The ride ended, but my dream never did.  

Although we haven’t moved to Venice (yet), I never gave up on several of my wishes.  I wished that one day, Wiseguy and I would go on a gondola ride together.  Yes.  So sweet and romantic (and soooo corny…but that’s me)  This year, my wish came true. 

On our trip to Europe, I got to celebrate my birthday in style.  A trip to Venice and a gondola ride.  Molto bene!  I had told Wiseguy many times that he would enjoy the gondola ride.  He had heard that the ride was big bucks and that you floated through stinky, sewer water.  I informed him that,over the past few years, they had been cleaning up the waterways.  I hinted that we wouldn’t know how good or bad it was until we got there and checked it out.  The debate continued.  In the end, birthday wishes (or maybe his curiosity) won out. 

After the long drive from Croatia to Venice, Wiseguy recommended a wee bit of rest away from the crowds.  And there it was.  Wish number two.  We found a little cafe on one of the side streets.  It was away from the din of the tourists.  We had a glass of wine and just enjoyed the peace and quiet.  Our senses also got to enjoy the wonderfully, aromatic smell of fresh pasta sauce as large plates of spaghetti floated by us via waitress.  Even better, the smell of fresh baked pizza wafting through the air.  What a beautiful moment it was.  But I digress.  Time to find us a gondolier!

We wandered back to the centre of the square and saw three gondoliers.  How did we know?  Well, they each had on black pants, a striped blue and white shirt and a lovely straw gondolier hat with a blue ribbon on it.  We picked the middle man and followed him down a side street.  His knowledge of the English language was excellent!  Better still, it had that little lilt of the Italian accent as he spoke.  Melodica voce!  We wound through the little side streets, passing little cafes as we walked.  We got to an opening and there it was.  A shiny, black gondola.  It had metal horses on the sides and large fancy tassles.  There were two velvet covered chairs and a velvet bench seat with a colourful blanket draped casually on it.  We boarded, got comfy, and then we were off! 

Our gondolier, Sebastian, has been a gondolier for 17 years.  His father retired and the horses and pictures and chairs on the gondola were originally from his dad’s gondola.  How wonderful.  He sang out little songs as we neared corners.  He waved happily to his fellow gondoliers,  “Ciao Mario!”  We heard about how Venice is slowly sinking.  We heard about Don Juan and Marco Polo and were shown where they lived.  We heard about how the rich Venetians built churches on every island in Venice.  We heard about the one rich Venetian that wanted to be king.  “Well”, the others said, “off with his head!”  Yikes.  Don’t upset a Venetian!  After about 50 minutes, our cruise was over, but thanks to Sebastian, our memories will last forever. 

Wiseguy really enjoyed the ride.  He told the kids all about his experience and how one day, they must go on gondola ride.  Now THAT should tell you something.

Sebastian, if you are reading this, we purchased a little memento of our visit to Venice.  We named the gondolier Sebastian.

Grazie Sebastian

Give up what ?!!!!

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I feel like I am 23 years old.  On the inside.  On the outside, my 43-year old body is telling me a different story.  As we age, there are fun things that begin to happen.  It doesn’t matter if you are male or female, you notice the changes. 

There are expiry dates on body parts.  I truly believe this.  Suddenly ankles seem to make weird cracking noises.  Back pains…upper and lower.  It’s like there is a bullseye on your back.  “Aaargh….Ow….I can’t move or stretch or bend or breathe!”  Nothing like it.  Eye twitches, joint pains, Achilles heals, tendonitis, stiff knees, weird moles, etc. This is the age of “I slept funny”.  Sleeping used to be easy.  Close your eyes and sleep.  Now, you never know what crick you will wake up with the next day. 

I decided to talk to my sister-in-law about making my life healthier.  She is a practitioner of homeopathy, naturopathy, kinesiology, iridology, acupuncture.  Yes, quite the mouthful, but  basically…she knows her stuff!  Anyway, I started a NO chip / chocolate / candy / ice cream / sugar / anything-defined-as-snack-food eating style.  The new “old school” eating style.  Go back to natural foods and include some daily exercise.  SIL recommended that I start off with a cleanse to purge my body of toxicity.  At least 10 days on this cleanse and come out a brand new you. 

So, she sent me a list of items I COULD eat on this wonderful cleanse.  All veggies and legumes, grains, chicken and fish.  Awesome!  Now, over to the right side of the page was the NO list.  No beef or pork.  Fine.  No fruit.  That’s ok, I’m a veggie lover.  No potatoes.  No bread or anything made with yeast.  Done.  And then I saw it and was horrified.  NO DAIRY.  What?  That means NO CHEESE.  This was sacrilege!  She calmly replied:  “You can give up cheese for ten days.”  Me…give up cheese!  NO! NEVER! NEIN! NYET!  I love cheese.  I love cheeses.  I love everything cheesy.  I love Blue cheese. I love Swiss cheese.  I love Cream cheese.  Bocconcini and Jarlsberg and Gouda and Ricotta and Cottage cheese and Mozzarella and Provolone and Fruilano and Parmessan.  I even love Kraft processed cheese slices.  As you can obviously tell….I LOVE CHEESE!  To make matters worse, I have infected my family with the desire for cheese.

It started with The Wiz.  Kraft cheese slices, my goodness.  Fantastic with Kraft Dinner macaroni.  Mmmmm.  So creamy.  Who cares if it’s a leftover scrap cheese made anew.  It is amazing!  He also loves good ol’ cheddar especially shredded on nachos.  Yum!  The Princess and The Debater agree, hands down, that mozzarella is the best (preferably Salerno brand).  They refer to it as  “The Good Cheese”.  That white brick of yumminess never lasts long.  We have even infected the family newbies.  Actually, The Baker just prefers cream cheese, but that still counts.  The Artist is now a renegade Mozzarella fan.

Cheese is the rescuer of many a failed dinner recipe.  Cheese elevates dishes to a new level.  Gooey or creamy…nothing like cheese.  To get nice smiley faces in pictures we tell everyone to say “Cheese”!  Need I say more.

Thank you to the cows or goats or sheep or buffalo that provide this lovely snack / meal.  Thank you to the cheese makers.  You are artists.  You are creators of taste sensations.  Thank you to all the retailers who have decided to sell such varieties to us consumers.  And thank you to my patient sister-in-law.  Although giving up cheese would make my body feel better, you let me be and don’t judge me for my cheese addiction. 

P.S. In the end, I did take my SIL’s advice.  I decided to proceed with the cleanse and forgo cheese for 10 days.  After just 3 days I was feeling more alert and more energetic.  Any bloating I had experienced before was gone.  It was wonderful! I felt great! 

I must be a fast healer.  I accomplished in 3 days what should have taken 10 days.  Time to celebrate my victorious achievement!

Mmmmm….ham and cheese pizza.
Yeasty, white flour dough.
Wood oven baked crust.
Congratulations to me!
Bon appetit!