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 |  Am I supposed to write? |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Documenting the trials and tribulations of sharing my writing. I know it will be a grand adventure. I'm sure I'll get a sore butt from the bumps along the way, but they are just part of the ride. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Get your mind out of the gutter . I'm like the old car in the driveway; all fluids have been checked, my tank is full but I experience difficulty starting. My battery is charged so I'm thinking I need my starter replaced. Anybody know how I do this? My current starter is two cups of coffee and the morning crossword. This has served me well over the years however has been very ineffective lately. Any ideas how to jumpstart my day? When I have a commitment, I muddle through. By the end of my meeting, appointment, sales call or babysitting adventure, I'm good to go. As long as I keep the engine going and never leave myself in park for too long, I get a lot accomplished. Should I park myself in the middle of the day, I once again encounter the starting problem. Everything should work but it doesn't. I must have a short somewhere. One of those hard to find short circuits that a dealership can't seem to diagnose. Two wires are disconnected and seem to rub together only by accident. Am I the only one to experience this? My brain knows I have things to do and I am fully capable of accomplishing what I set out to do. When it comes time to get started, I fizzle. I need a friend to take me out for coffee and go for a morning walk. I need a salesperson at the door to piss me off and get my bloodpumping. Lately, I am not a self-starter. Not even my abundance of lists can motivate me to ge out of my jammies and face the day. The internet makes this easier by allowing me to do so much from the comfort of my bed. Who needs to shower and get dressed? Maybe I do need that jump.  |
| I will not apologize for my optimism. I see the glass half full and always look for the silver lining. Deep in my soul, I believe the best will happen. What's more is I believe my postive attitude will influence the outcome of certain situations. When I buy lottery or raffle tickets, I truly believe I'll win. It might only be three dollars but it's something. I know I'm going to be the 8th caller to win concert tickets, I'm going to be the one millionth customer and win a lifetime supply of groceries. The fact I've never won anything does not deter me. One day it will happen and I have to be ready for my good fortunes. While I wait for Lady Luck, I cannot always contain my enthusiasm. This can be entertaining or embarassing, depending on my surroundings. Yesterday it was a bit of both A friend and I decided to hit the racetrack yesterday. There was no racing on a Friday afternoon but there are slot machines. A fabulous way to end a hard week. While I am a gambler, I am also a realist. I know Casino and Lottery Corporations make there money from the one armed bandits. I always hope for the big bucks but console myself saying the money is going to a good cause if I lose. Until the last pull, I hold onto the possibility the right combination may appear in the window and I'll be financially set for the next couple of months. Until that happens, I must amuse myself. Truthfully, pulling a handle or pressing a button is not entertaining. This is why I always go with a friend. We make our own fun. We look for machines with lots of different rewards. Yesterday we played "Five L'il Piggies" and were entertained for a couple of hours. It never paid big but the video presentations rocked. We didn't care about winning, we were hoping to spin and trigger our favourite videos. While everybody else playing the same type of machines were hoping for the bombs and the birthday party, we wanted Elvis. Presley Piggie was as good as a jackpot win. If you got three of them, five little piggies dressed as Elvis came on stage and danced. They had on black wigs complete with sideburns. The outfit of choice is the classic white jumpsuit with gold trim. Our hearts melted when they danced across the screen singing Heartbreak Hotel. They had a repertoire of only 8 songs but [i}Heartbreak Hotel was our favourite followed closely by Love Me Tender. When they graced our screen, we squealed like their backup singers. All the antiques seated around us would make their way over, in their wheelcheers or pushing their walkers. They were always disappointed to see we had only won fifty cents. The money wasn't the point, it was about having fun. Sure we had bombs blow up and attended the birthday bash but nothing was as amusing as "Presley Piggie". It made us laugh, it made us sing. We're sure everybody thought they were laughing at us. We just laughed harder so they knew we were laughing with them. Small things amuse small minds. When we left, we each were up a hundred bucks. One more reason to love pork. |
| Gathered for a cup of tea were three intelligent women. Yes I was part of this crowd. P-f-f-t-t, I am too smart. One would be amazed at the amount of useless bits of information I have locked inside my mind. Anyways... You would think between the three of us, the conversation would be brilliant. You'd be wrong. For over two hours, one subject was tossed about. I won't leave you hanging because you'd never guess and get your mind out of the gutter. Today we discussed.... the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Laugh at me now but try it. You'd be amazed at the amount of conversation which can stem from the classic snack . We unanimously decided the best PB&J sandwiches are made on plain old white bread. No cracked wheat or whole grain. It's a treat. The masterpiece is the combination on the inside, the bread is but a frame. After this, we pretty much agreed on nothing. Crusts on or off? Important decision. I never in my life have had the crusts cut off my sandwiches. Quite often the crust is my favourite part of the bread. Mrs. C used to expect her mom to cut her crusts but grew it out of it. Miss V. still trims her crusts; the girl will never grow up. Is your "J", jelly or jam? Do you dare to venture off the beaten path and go for marmalade? Seriously folks, I can't stand jelly, it shakes too much and jiggles. I'm a jam sort of girl. Mrs. C calls me a traitor and insists the classic is made with grape jelly. Miss V didn't know their was difference. Crunchy peanut butter is fantabulous for baking but, for a PB&J, I demand smoothy. I can't explain why but I don't want a CPB&J. Miss V argued vigourously for chunky and of course Mrs. C claimed indifference. She buys whatever has the best price. Nor could we agree on how to make the sandwich. The two of them each spread the J and the PB on separate pieces of bread and then stick the sides together. Ick! I spread the PB on the bread, the J on top of the PB and place the second piece of bread on top. Spreading the J directly on the bread makes the bread soggy. Miss V argues this is why you put butter on the bread before you spread the J. BUTTER? It's called a Peanut BUTTER & Jelly/Jam. Why add more fat? After two pots of tea, we agreed on what we named "The Ultimate PB&J". Please, try the recipe. First, blend together 2 parts PB with 1 part plain cream cheese. This will give the PB an nicer texture when warmed. You want to use a "triple fruit" J or fruit spread. Jelly won't cut it. You must use thickly sliced white bread. It's ideal if you get fresh bread from a bakery with a substantial crust. Ask them to cut thick slices for you. In a pie plate or any large flat dish, mix together the egg mixture you would if making french toast. You're seeing the big picture now aren't ya.... Spread the PB mixture on piece of bread and your J on another. On this occasion it is acceptable. Spread both fairly close to the edges. Now slap those pieces of bread together. Put a frypan on the stove and melt a pat of butter. Dip your sandwich in the egg mixture. Make sure both sides of the bread are covered, including crusts. Now cook until golden brown, low and slow. When done, sprinkle with cinnamon or icing sugar or pour a touch of warm syrup over your sandwich. Now enjoy. I'm heading to the kitchen to get something to eat. |
| Apparently some of you believe I am numerically challenged and can't count to 100. What I believed to be entry 100 was only 98 to those of you stopping by. *hmmms - wonders why* Upon investigation I discovered 2 locked up, marked private, still not ready to share blog entries; hence the discrepancy. I find it funny I heard about the difference from far more people than ever comment in my blog. I guess it shows you guys are actually reading. Without further delay, I present you Blog Entry 100 - Take 2. What better way to celebrate Entry 100 than share some advice I received, with you? I can assure you this advice / opinion comes from incredibly reliable sources; people within the publishing industry. Do you know the number one mistake made by writers attempting to get published? We don't get rejected enough! Don't you love that?!? "Writers need thick skins. Writing is an art and subjective. Most aspiring writers I know don't have anywhere near enough rejection slips in their drawers." What an eloquent way of saying we don't submit enough. I'm not directing this to those of you whom write for yourself. I recognize there are lots of writers who don't think about publishing when writing. This group is the most admirable group of scribes. I'm talking to the group of you out there always talking about the hope of publication. When is the last time you submitted something, anything, for publication? Do you have more than one piece ready for publication? "Writing gets writers published." Planning and researching and storyboards are fabulous but "Writing gets writers published.". Very simple really. We have to fight the urge to get caught up in the process. Ideas and outlines don't count until you have a bestseller under your belt. When you are a money making machine, editors/publishers will listen to concepts. When you are Joe/Jane Smith, WRITE. Produce something concrete. I know I didn't tell you anything you didn't know deep down inside. These are things we need to remember and more importantly PRACTICE. Write - submit - reject - rewrite - submit - reject - offer alternative - reject - write something new - reject. Know every reason for every rejection and establish a counter punch. Soon, there will be no reason to reject your work. I know this hasn't been exciting but, hopefully it has been helpful. With this, I put an end to the 100th blog entry controversy. Thanks again for coming by. |
| It's that time of year when my vegetable garden begins to share its treasures. Fresh beans, zuchinni and cucumber are part of almost every meal. However, my favourite treats are the vine ripened tomatoes. I plant cherry tomatoes and Beefsteak but my favourites are the Fatboy. The Fatboy plants provide the perfect tomatoes for toasted bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. One tomato can make three of four sandwiches. They are nice and big and one thick slice does the job. No matter how good the tomato is, the sandwich is not complete without bacon. Let's be honest, almost anything can be made better with the addition of bacon. Pork fat rules! Last night was the first of many dinners of the classic BLT. The residual effect of preparing this delight is the smell of bacon wafting through the house. I went outside to grab the morning paper and when I returned indoors, it hit me. The wonderful, comforting smell of fried bacon. What could be better? While I enjoyed my coffee and continued to inhale the lingering bacon's bouquet it hit me.... why aren't there any bacon scented room fresheners? Bacon sure smells better than many deodorizers I have been exposed to in the past. Who was it that decided fragrances for the home had to be sweet and flowery? Imagine being able to add whatever smell you desire to your home. I'll take the smell of a pot roast over the stink of gardenia's any day. Our kitchens create some wonderful, comforting scents; enough for their own line of home fragrances. You are thinking of your favourite foods right now, aren't ya? We all abuse home fragrances. They should be used to give us comfort and make our homes more inviting. We tend to use them to try and cover the odours we can't get rid of. Lighting a candle or spraying a room is easier than cleaning but, that's a different issue. If we are going to inject some sort of scent into our homes, let's makes it the essence of the things we truly enjoy. What do you want your house to smell like? |
| I started this blog entry yesterday but struggled through it. I saved this disaster as private, to be fixed later. After all, this is BLOG ENTRY 100. Fortunately, something happened this morning which makes a nice ending to the story I started to write about. Yesterday, I met the mother of a high school classmate. It was a wonderful moment. I grabbed a receipt from the printer and after reading the name and address on the paper, I think I blurted "Shit, you must be Roberto's mother". Admittedly, not the best way to introduce myself. We chit chatted and made friendly conversation. I apologized for the numerous times my friends and I hung up on her. If Roberto didn't answer the phone, we were always afraid to ask for him. She laughed at me and shared her suspicions that we were not the only girls to do this. Roberto was a bit of a stud in high shcool; at least as studly as a 16 year old guy can be. I didn't bring up the several parties Roberto hosted. I felt it was his place to confess his sins, not mine. Between you and me, there were lots of parties; his parents travelled often. I think this is why the address jumped off her receipt and slapped me in the face. She quickly fell into my good graces when she guessed I had to be a couple of years behind Rob as I was obviously younger than he. * blushes* I smiled, thanked her for the compliment but admitted he and I were the same age. I cherished the moment as it was nice to know the nerdy, four eyed, overweight girl with acne, aged better than one of the high school heart throbs. Some of us do get better with age. I would have called old friends and bragged last night but, I was too tired. I struggled to do anything, never mind brag. I attempted to blog about my joy but even that required too much effort. Now I'm glad I waited because I have a better ending. Roberto's mom called the office today. She wanted to know if I was single. It seems Rob was having breakfast with his mother and she brought up my name. Since he had to pass my office on his way home, she suggested he stop by and bring me a coffee. While we spoke, I could hear Rob protesting in Italian , begging his mother to hang up the phone. In that moment, I was 15 again and one of the hottest boys in high school was afraid to ask me out. I smiled all day. On this, the occassion marking my one hundredth blog entry, I'd like to say thanks to Nadia , for making it all possible. |
| Often our "needs" and "wants" get us running in circles, chasing our tails. I need to work to afford the vacation I want. We've all been there and bought the t-shirt. It's a vicious circle we call life. Admidst the chaos and craziness, there are precious gems which keep us sane. My sanity comes in the form of a group of friends I refer to as "the Girlies". We don't see each other as often as we did when we were younger, without responsibilities, but we always stay in touch. Once in a while, a small miracle happens, and we get together; leaving our families, jobs and problems behind. Two of us were to have dinner last Saturday night but plans change. The other Girlies were also available. Woo hoo, road trip!! After 814 phone calls between the five of us, we packed up the car and began our adventure. We had no specific plans or destination. We each had a change of clothes, our toothbrushes, a variety of CDs and lots and lots of alcohol. Let the good times begin. What we actually did, is not important. The value in this spontaneous getaway was the quality time we spent with each other. Shopping was fun but the teasing and the laughing and the crying were all highlights of the weekend. New friends are great but, old friends are priceless. We've been through graduations, weddings and divorces. We have grieved for our losses and celebrated our successes. We have watched each other grow; we made good choices and bad. We can share these memories with other people but we lived them together. I could still be a bit hungover or sleep deprived or both. Rarely is the morning after worth the night before but this weekend was the exception. Nobody outside our little circle would appreciate our antics of the weekend so I'll spare you the details. What I will do is encourage you to welcome spontaneity in your life. Sometimes when we say shit happens, it is actually meant in a good way. |
| Honestly, I was going to write an entry last night. I'm trying very hard to blog on a regular basis but shit happens. Then failing to blog messes with mind. If I can't commit to blogging, how do I ever expect to commit to a regular column in a paper. I do have several good excuses. I don't know if an editor would believe any of them but they help me rationalize my procrastination. It's a bad habit I have, waiting until the very last minute to do things. I'll confess, I have anticipated asking for extensions before I start a project. I'm so bad. This practice has come back to bite me in the ass several times. You'd think I'd eventually learn my lesson but I guess I'm a little slow. Smart people do dumb things. So anyway, yesterday is a great example of how avoidance causes me to completely blow my plans to hell. On four different occasions I sat at my laptop to blog and on four different occasions I got distracted. The first time, I let my e-mail distract me. I have six different accounts to check and I use this as an excuse to avoid just about everything. I still had plenty of time to blog; as long as I got it done. The second time shouldn't really count because I was at the office and things were in a constant frenzy. Playing Mahjongg didn't require as much attention as writing a blog. I had the entire evening to blog. You can see where this is going. When I finally, truly, for real, honest to goodness, sat to blog, I lost my internet connection. I got the connection back and then I lost power. Not my fault! However, at midnight, I had not blogged. There would be no little line under the 18 on my July blog calendar.  This is the fifth or sixth time I've tried to blog today. I told myself I'm going to blog every other day yet I've rationalized not blogging two days in a row. Bad me. But I won't be defeated by my excuses!! I did it. *wonders what excuses others use to justify not blogging* |
| Let me start by thanking all of you whom have ever taken the time to read anything I've penned. You are all important to me because you chose to stop and spend some time in my port. Do you hear the BUT? I adore receiving your gut reactions and how you connected, or didn't connect, to a story BUT I am Canadian!! This is important because I need you to know the following things: 1. I spell words such as neighboUr, coloUr and favoUr with the U. It is not a typo nor a spelling error. It is the correct CANADIAN spelling. 2. I also spell theatRE and metRE with an RE ending, not ER. 3. When it comes to punctuation, we do not put a comma in front of a conjunction!! When it comes to writing, there are no international rules. It's nobody's fault, it is what it is. We do have to keep in mind that writers here at WDC are from all over the world. I've learned so many things from the international members of WDC... a nappy is a diaper as well as a hairstyle. Some Asian girls choose to have blonde hair and they aren't hookers. New Zealand got to see Harry Potter before the rest of the world. Internet service providers are not the same around the world. Some countries have several restrictions on internet access fortunately Canada is not one of them. I don't need to list all the differences, do I? I'll continue to receive e-mails about my non-errors and I will continue to ignore them, silly Americans. Hopefully, some of you will wander over here and discover why I didn't make those suggested changes. For now, I'm going to go poke a few ports and celebrate all the differences I discover. |
| I have been plagued by a variety of ear infections forever. I've had all sorts of things go wrong with my ears over the years and I've learned it's helpful to my doctor if I'm able to best describe the sounds inside my head. This has been the routine for years and is an outstanding form of communication between my doctor and myself. Alas, she had the nerve to close her practice for six months. She seems to think having triplets is a big deal or something. Fine... she made arrangements for her patients to be seen by other docs. I guess this was nice of her BUT... This new doc is a bit uptight. I can tell she doesn't get me. My visit to her with my latest ear infection has not helped our relationship. This infection couldn't be the run of the mill "swoosh" type or even the more annoying "drip, drip, drip". The sound of the impurity in my head was new. I thought very hard the 48 hours prior to my appointment, how best to describe what I was experiencing in my ears. Imagine the scene: "Hi Ms. Sweets, how are you today?" "Fine, except for the voices in my head." "Pardon me?" "I hear voices." "It says here you were coming in to see me with ear problems." "Exactly." "And you hear voices?" "Yes." "Do they tell you to do things?" "Yes, kill the neighbour's dog." "And do you do what the voices tell you to?" At this point, I began to grow concerned. The new doctor believed I had truly lost my mind. My attempt to explain myself didn't go well. I begged and pleaded for her to look in my chart. Surely, diagnosis of "blop" or "eeeeeeeee" will be obvious. I watched the fear grow in her eyes and decided to shut up. It was best to leave things as they were and let my doctor explain our private language when the substitute doc calls to say I have lost my mind. After a couple of errands I arrive home to a message from my sister, also a doctor, "What the hell did you do?" I guess word travels fast when you go crazy. |
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