C'mon Spring!!!!

The other day when someone mentioned that I haven’t blogged in a long time, along with instant guilt, I thought about the few months that have passed since a post.  But 8 months?? I never would have guessed. Yikes! I would love to tell you about the wonderfully productive time and awe inspiring end results – but that would be chock full of untruth. Fact is I cannot possibly account for the last 8 months. Lots of sleeping, reading, googling of symptoms. Just the usual stuff.

Which brings us to March 5^th, 2013.

Like most Canadians, I am just about at my winter breaking point. Every new snowflake is like a dagger in my flip flops. I have always made peace with winter. I would stop short of calling myself a fan, but I have accepted its place in my life and I’m okay with it. That being said, winter needs to end approximately one month before it actually does. I can tear up watching the Weather Network as the plus temps get pushed further and further back each day. By the way weather forecaster people – we’re on to that maneuver;  Promising temperatures Thursday, or is it Friday…make that Saturday. It breaks my heart a little bit each time.

Adding to the mix is my 2 cats who are entirely convinced that Spring has arrived and that they need to ask to go outside approximately every 45 seconds all morning long. Of course when I refuse to let them out I get shot the look of utter disdain that seems to be genetically coded into every feline. Then they retreat to sleep in a box from Costco.

On a personal note all is pretty great. My husband and I actually hung up some wedding pictures over the weekend. That puts us in just under the 2 year mark, which I feel is quite respectable. It’s now been 15 months at home (which has absolutely flown by) and I could not be more grateful for the time I’ve been granted to simply be. What a gift.

That being said, I need to get out of this house!! I need regular conversations with someone who isn’t a cat or a relative. I need to be given a task and complete it. I need to wear pants with a button.

I have had many conversations about many possibilities, but I firmly believe when the fit is right I’ll know. I also firmly believe that’s coming.

Stay well, and thanks for reading.

Go Bombers Go!!

Last night I had the pleasure of being a part of the Winnipeg Blue Bomber Legacy Dinner. As many times as I’ve played a role in the evening’s festivities – it remains a thrill. I try to never forget what an extraordinary event it must be for those inducted into the Bomber Hall of Fame. How can one help but reflect on all of the years, actual years, of sweat, ache and toil that brought them to this day? I have difficulty committing to an entire hot yoga class, never mind a lifetime. I’ve always found the discipline of athletes remarkable. I must clarify that I am referring to discipline in a strictly physical sense. I have spent enough hours alongside post game celebrants to know that many players have far from mastered discipline in a variety of other areas. But when it comes to hitting the gym – you’ve got to give them that.

Milt Stegall was brought in for the dinner last night, to help pay tribute to #97, Doug Brown, who took his place among the Hall of Famers. As I watched both of them be inundated with fans, all just wanting a personal moment and a quick picture, I couldn’t help but think about how exciting it is to be close to your heroes. I was awestruck my first year working the home games. I still couldn’t believe that I could ever be on the sidelines, that I had genuine friendships with actual Blue Bombers, that Milt Stegall knew my name! I realized last night that in all that time, I never asked him for a picture. I never considered that I would need one – there would always be another chance.  There is both comfort and folly in the delusion of endless opportunity.

As I stood behind the scenes in the lobby last night, the team lined up in their groups awaiting introductions, I was reminded how quickly time flies. It couldn’t possibly be 30 years since I went to the games holding my Grandpa’s hand, far more interested in the pretty cheerleaders and the prospect of an ice cream cone than anything to do with the fracas on the field. Could it really be 20 years since, as a U of M student, I became a season ticket holder in the legendary Section S? Has it really been 12 years since the most surreal of all things transpired, and I was brought in to work for a team I have always loved? Suddenly, standing before me last night was a group I barely recognized (with the exception of the wise veteran Cvetkovic), full of young men looking more like my friend’s children than my peers. Most of the players I considered friends have moved on to other lives, other careers, and I find myself in the familiar position of wishing I could go back. I promise I would remember more deliberately, I would pay more attention.  As always, the answer is no.

No matter what building they play in, or how the schedule unfolds, all I ever hope for is that the Bombers are in it right to the end. That they play smart, that they play hard, and a Grey Cup Championship would be pretty nice. Oh yeah – and could you please be sure to beat the Riders? Man I hate the Riders….

Go Blue!!

Serenity Now!!

For the first time ever I am at the cottage solo. This is a bit of an experiment brought on by the past few Monday mornings as I wake up, with my husband at work and wonder why exactly I'm not still at the lake? I suppose being a supportive spouse was the initial reason, but now that the sun is shining and our fleeting summer has begun, it seems a bit unnecessary for both of us to do the sad drive home on Sunday nights.

I have gone with "I'll really be able to focus on my writing" as a reason to pursue the endless lakeside experience. How could anyone argue with that? Well, my sweet husband didn't and here I am! I have come up with a few tactics to help buy me some time. I have stashed a variety of treats throughout the house. From ice cream bars to fudge filled cookies; delights that are usually banned will slowly be discovered as my time away from home drags on, thereby associating my absence with sugary goodness. It's a bit Pavlovian in design, but if it buys me a few days of serenity, what's the harm? I have also chosen weeks that are full of sporting news. The NBA playoffs, NHL playoffs and beginning of Bomber training camp allow me to fly under the radar at the best of times. I won't have any real trouble until the man gets hungry for something other than Subway.

So far my time alone at the cottage has been invaluable (you can't tell, but I'm winking...) I have watched the movies "Sex in the City", "P.S. I Love You" and a season of Gilmore Girls. It's a good thing we don't have cable so I can get away from it all and really become one with nature.

I did power up the laptop to do some writing, but instead played 47 games of Spider Solitaire. I wonder if I could convince anyone that that's my process!! It's all just laying the groundwork for brilliance and insight - oh look a deer!!

Much like inviting people to stay at your house, this idea won't seem very good for very long, but I'm riding it out for now. Thanks Subway!!

Stay Well....

I Can Do This......

Although much of my life is a bit unknown these days, one element is painfully familiar. I have once again embarked on a healthier lifestyle complete with working out and (fingers crossed) weight loss. I have chosen to mention the journey as a way to be accountable, even though I run the inherent risk of being invited to even more Body by Vi parties.

Becoming fit and healthy has been an ongoing challenge throughout my life. As much as I tend to think of myself as a colossal failure in this area, my pleasing husband is quick to point out that I have actually had multiple successes peppered with periods of backslide. He's cute - but come on! This is also a man that stands 6' 4" and requires about 47,000 calories a day to keep from feeling light headed.

During bleak moments I can really get myself into a state thinking about all of the broken promises and wasted years my issues with food have allowed. However, I am learning to be a little bit kinder to myself. The fitness/weight loss industry wouldn't generate a hundred bazillion dollars a year if it were simple. Also food is awesome, it's readily available, and creamy and gooey beats crunchy and healthy most of the time. I never carried out imaginary vengeance on a mean boy over steamed broccoli. That is strictly a job for Haagen Dazs.

So no matter what brought me here, I am at proverbial square one trying to get my increasingly creaky body to crave a better way. I have enlisted the personal training expertise of Sara (the spitfire). You can tell she's a trainer by her unbridled energy and enthusiasm. Sara celebrates my half assed push-ups the way new parents celebrate a gas bubble. It's a little off the charts, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't appreciate it.

As far as the food goes, don't all of us pretty much get the basics? If you really crave it - you probably shouldn’t have it. I am always amused when Sara tells me that I can have whatever I want; “just plan for it and watch your portions”. Ha ha ha ha ha ha - good one! I do get the concept though - and who knows - maybe this time's the charm.

So after a few weeks of tweaking the diet and hitting the gym, the scale still doesn't seem to care. Yeah, yeah, I feel better and my heart is stronger - big whoop. I want baggy pants! On a more positive note my husband switched from double cheeseburgers to single cheeseburgers and is down 7 pounds.

As if marriage wasn't hard enough already??

Stay well.....

That was fast......

Well – it’s been 6 months since I last uttered a word on the radio. The time has passed in an absolute flash. I know that at least 8 out of every 24 hours had been spent sleeping (yaaaa!!) – the remaining 16 hours are more of a question mark.

I had hoped by now I would have completed a thorough and exhaustive career search discovering some deep professional desires long lurking within me. That has not happened. I had hoped by now my inner Hemmingway would have leapt forth and spilled out over pages and pages of riveting text. That has not happened. I had hoped by now I would be a size six. Well…you can probably guess how that’s gone…...not happened!

Here’s what has happened; I have begun to understand that 3 years of discourse and stress takes a toll on you, and left unchecked begins to change who you are. I have recognized that no matter how much you do right, lousy people can end up holding some cards in your life, and you are subject to their own shortcomings.  I have also discovered that starting over is a small price to pay for choosing peace over chaos.

The other day I was at the dry cleaner and I ran into a friend of mine from the media world. She had this beautiful, warm smile and quickly congratulated me on my “new job”. I chuckled and asked where I was working? The truth is that I have not made one step towards finding employment just yet – but it’s nice to be talked about. After six months of doing laundry and trying out recipes even the notion that I could be relevant is exciting. I certainly haven’t ruled out a return to the media – but I haven’t ruled out anything else either.  I do know that I hope to be working somewhere, doing something, sometime this fall. That’s about as far as I’ve gotten.

It seems I seldom leave the house without bumping into a former listener with a kind word, and a desire to know where I’ve gone. I suppose to the naked eye I would appear to have gone nowhere. I can assure you though; the last six months have brought me miles from where I was.

Enjoy the sunshine, and thanks for reading!

At Least It's Not A "Man-Cold"

I had one of those nights on Monday that started out perfectly normal, and with each passing hour I seemed to develop a new symptom – which by the end of the night had turned into a full-on head cold. It has now consumed my life. I cannot fathom moving away from my Kleenex box, I have blankets and slippers scattered throughout the house as they are tossed off or grabbed onto depending on the fever vs. chill situation, and I look upon a hot cup of tea with the kind of awe and gratitude that would normally be reserved for a chocolate éclair. It’s been almost a year since I’ve had a cold – but this one is packing a punch!

That being said – there is always an upside. As lousy as I feel, there is a great deal of delight in knowing that I am not expected to make dinner. I cannot tell you how sick I am of making dinner! This is not true every night. There are times that I am genuinely pleased to try out something new. During my respite from the working world I have happily experimented with new marinades, rubs, frittatas and gleaned a great deal of comfort from homemade soup. However, no matter how satisfied I have been preparing a meal I know I am never more than 23 hours away from my husband hungrily re-appearing in the kitchen. I honestly don’t know how my Mom managed to make dinner night after night, year after flippin’ year, without losing her mind. I mean, how many things can you be expected to do with a chicken? This pressure is somewhat self-imposed – but without a job these days, I feel the least I can do is come up with something to feed my hard working breadwinner. If a raging fever gets me a few days off – maybe it’s not so bad.

I suspect my body may have conjured up this illness because it learned of my plan to start training again. I have touched base with an inspiring fitness loving Angel named Sara, and had planned our first session this week. It’s like when a dog hears you talking about the “V-E-T” and suddenly they’re hiding under the bed. My body must have caught wind of the impending mutiny and has come up with its own offensive.  It won’t last forever – but a couple of days in bed watching episodes of Toddlers and Tiara’s can only ultimately inspire me to change my life for the better.

Stay well – send Kleenex!

An Easter Purge

I have heard from a few of you that my blog has been missed as of late (although I’m sure all have managed just fine) and I appreciate it very much. I am also grateful for the lovely lady who chased me down in Safeway over the weekend, and pretty much begged me to return to my former employment. I have chuckled about that daily. It was both very funny and very kind.

I will admit to having indulged in spending the last 6 weeks “off the grid”. After years of being required to constantly plug in to the world happenings, I am rather enjoying the freedom that obliviousness brings. It has allowed me to confront the kinds of jobs that only get done when you are well rested and killing time until cottage season begins.

Although my husband and I combined households over 3 years ago, I still had boxes that were never touched, and closets in desperate need of purging. When I first began my “employment sabbatical “, I intended on tackling these tasks immediately. As it turns out, it took about 5 months. In keeping with my control freakish nature however, once I began the process of re-organizing the house, there would be no rest until I was completely finished. I have yet to develop any kind of propensity toward moderate behaviour. I approach all areas of my life like a bag of potato chips. It’s all or nothing – no reasonable portions here.

My closet was a veritable tribute to the stages of my life. I wistfully clutched some of the smaller sizes that seem impossibility at this point, I recalled wonderful evenings spent in various frocks that I had long forgotten, and I shook my head at a variety of questionable fashion don’ts that for some reason, at least temporarily, struck me as fashion dos. I tried to be ruthless when it came to the donation bag. The more I purged the more I wanted to purge. There is great relief in letting go, whether it is a grudge, a betrayal, or painter pants. My catharsis continues…..

On the Monday that I committed to the overhaul my husband returned to a master bedroom that no longer contained a single item belonging to him. Our closets simply don’t allow a leisurely dressing experience, so he was relocated across the hall. I tried to sell it as a luxurious, multi-room closet extravaganza – but I’m not sure he bought it. Then again, as long as he has a corner to throw dirty socks, and a place for his 467 Marvel Comics themed T-shirts, he’s a pretty happy guy.

I still let him sleep in the master bedroom – so that’s pretty good, right?

Happy Easter – I hope the Bunny finds you in great health and happiness!