For my birthday, I received a number of fabitty fab birthday presents (from a number of fabitty fab individuals.)
In preparation for my first marathon, I was gifted a belt to store gel packs, and a beautiful, (but more important breathable) zip-up running shirt. Mr. M gave me a pair of lovely earrings that have little cameos of ravens on them (because this way I can pretend that I’m Odin, and that my little feathered friends are whispering the world’s secrets into my ears as I go about my daily business.)
I also received another Murakami book from my good friend A that I devoured on my way home from her house on skytrain.
Such a strange sensation to be reading a book about a very early Tokyo morning, when you yourself feel as though you are operating out of a parallel, late-night dreamland. I was so tired that I could hardly keep my eyes open, and yet at the same time, too engrossed in Murkami’s prose to actually allow my body to let go, and crumple under the weight of my end-of-week exhaustion and post-hang out daze.
What a strange tug-of-war we mortals can play, between need and desire, consciousness and sleep.
Two other gifts that provide me with a huge amount of happiness (on a daily basis at that) are the gorgeous prints my sister in-law V made for me.
They are currently hanging in my office and I cannot even begin to describe what a difference they have made in my day-to-day work regime.
The power of art is strong, my friends – very strong.
Plus, the prints, combined with a few other touches of beauty and comfort (I also have nice black and white photo of SFU hanging on the opposite wall, and I finally managed to finagle someone to come in and mount my “to-do” cork board) ensure my office no longer looks like the place you go where you find out that you have a terminal illness.
Because that folks, is pretty darn bleak.
Today the sky is blue, and the trees are sun-drenched (and not rain-drenched) for the first time in what seems like ages.
Over my lunch break I hopped, skipped, and jumped my way out of the office, and around my downtown neighbourhood in an effort to procure everything that was populating my (ever-growing) “NEED TO GET” list.
It is always so pleasant doing these kinds of things in the glorious sunshine, rather than scurrying about like a drowned rat, trying to stay one step ahead of the looming fog and drizzle.
Is it springtime yet, Ms. Nature?
I picked up the usual suspect at Shoppers Drug Mart: make-up remover, cotton pads (to be used with said remover), body wash, and face cleanser.
I had a mild flashback to high school when I approached one of the clerks to ask if she knew where the Neutrogena products were, and she briskly responded:
You mean the acne products?
Umm, I wasn’t sure, actually. “It’s very orange and has a pump on the top?” I said, a little nervous all of a sudden.
Yes. You want the acne face washes, upstairs in the acne solutions section – aisle four.
I know this might seem a little silly, but I totally felt as though I was being shamed. Like I was in a one of those horrible sitcoms playing the nerdy high school kid who tries to purchase condoms, or tampons – or the young girl stuck buying Vagisil, or Imodium, or Exlax or whatever.
(Also, super hilarious that the spell check wants to change Vagisil to valise. That would require a majorly daft pharmacist to make that mix-up.)
Now, I’m sure the only reason I actually felt this way is because in high school I actually did have bad acne, and I spent so much time, energy and money trying not to have bad acne. Now that I’m finally living a life of clear skin (as an easy, breezy, covergirl – or, you know, whatever) it’s hard for me not to get my back up in those kind of situations.
It’s like the horribly embarrassed fourteen year-old girl inside starts yelling: “I’m beautiful now! Why can’t you just leave me alone!”
LEAVE ETHEL ALONE!
Okay, so I’m over dramatizing this for the sake of humour and readability, but the sentiment is the same. Even though I was over the whole thing in about 2.7 seconds, I guess it’s true what they say:
Some (acne) scars just take longer to heal.
To speed up the process I bought (and thoroughly enjoyed) a large package of peanut butter M&M’s (seriously I’d fight to the death to prove, and/or, to defend my stance that they are in fact, the best M&M product – or at least to a missing handful of hair) and an ice cold diet Pepsi.
I also managed to get a hold of a pair of sweatpants that I can wear on my way home from the gym for only sixteen dollars!
You have no idea how happy this makes me. Seriously.
Money-wise aside, this is also fantastic news because I normally go to the gym straight after work, and I really don’t like walking home in my workout clothes with just my big winter coat as my only over layer.
It kind of makes me feel like a super-harlot, because my shorts are shorter than my (rather long) coat, and this may or may not contribute to the illusion that makes it look as though I’m not wearing anything underneath my jacket.
And that’s not a look I’m ever striving for.
My final purchase was a new pair of work shoes (nine dollars! Thank you bargain barrel pricing and size ten feet!) and two lipsticks (two for twelve bucks! I’m almost, almost afraid to know what they’re made out of, because they’re so cheap. Probably the other bargain barrel size tens that were never sold.)
It’s easy to forget about that though, because they’re so, so pretty.
With all this talk of TREAT YOU SELF and the weather being as fabulous and fine, it was the perfect day to go out and do something nice for myself.
(It is also heart warming to know that I will once again be able to properly remove my mascara, and not wake up with crazy black muck that has sealed my eyelids shut whilst I slept. Side note: I was going to write “sleep-cum-makeup muck” but thought it might give some people the wrong idea.)
Okay, I definitely don’t need any more proof about how immature I can be, because just writing that out has given a case of the giggles I just may never get over.
I hope every single one of you had a beautiful day, were fortunate to feel the warmth of the sun on your face, and did something lovely in celebration of you, and just you.
Or at the very least, had a good giggle.