A brief peek through the blinds

Friends!

Some things:

I have a confession to make.

And this time, it’s not about Orson Scott Card.

Oh no.

I must confess that I keep hearing Selena Gomez songs.

And I keep liking them.

ACK.

HOW DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME!?

Good gravy…

This latest realization came tonight when I was working out. We have this insane little “amenities room” here in our complex (a supposed stand-in for a gym whenever anyone is selling their place!) and it’s where Marc and I go to work out when the days turn frigid, and the daylight has all but vanished by 4:17pm.

(Aka November – February of every year.)

Anyways, whilst in this room, I like to pump up the crappy pop tunes and just go at it.

Tonight, while getting through my push-up/jumping lunge super-sets, I found myself dancing like a silly thing during my one minute rest period.

You can imagine my chagrin when the DJ announced at the end of the song, that my latest jam was in fact the newest release from one S. Gomez, former belle of DA BIEBZ, and overall auto-tune queen du jour.

I feel like I really must get my music palette looked out, and stat.

And yet, at the same time, I know that as long as I don’t listen to that stuff all the time (such as I don’t just eat candy all of the live long day, despite how much I enjoy it,) I’ll be fine.

We are family.

There are times in my life when I realize just how quickly time is speeding by.

This realization is sometimes correlated to specific milestones: graduations, marriages, mortgages, or child births. It may come after running into someone I haven’t seen in a long time, only to knocked over by how much they have aged, changed or matured.

Sometimes, I start thinking about it for no reason at all.

However, if you are a part of my family, there is a very good chance that this will happen to you, and at a regular basis at that.

With fourteen grandkids, there are always something new to celebrate: a job, a child, a wedding, a degree.

Often times I have a hard time remembering that we are no longer twelve years old, on the hunt for five cent candies and slurpees, to quench our summer-sunshine driven thirst.

So you have to understand how discombobulating it can be, when my now twenty-four year old cousin (who in my mind, I still eight) makes me look like a little girl:

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What an absolute trip!

Tough it out

Well, it’s official.

Next summer I’ll be back in Whistler, running Tough Mudder for the second time in my life.

I am on a team “Armed and Dangerous” (aka – DA GUNS) with three fabulous friends of mine, and as the only girl I am going to be repping hard for all my BAMF ladies out there.

(Tell me – can you tell it’s a team of mostly dudes with a name like that?)

But mostly, I am just the most excited.

I had such an amazing time completing the course in 2012 with Marc, and I know that next year too will be a tremendous adventure. (I just need to find a way to 1. Cure my husband of his chronic ankle injuries so that he can 2. compete as a member of our team.)

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We’ve all got to have goals, don’t we?

Because if we don’t, what’s propelling us through all this cosmic cat food in the first place?

I could hardly begin to guess.

Some kind of madness is swallowing me whole

So.

I broke the weather.

After posting my piece on Monday about how us West Coasters were living in perpetual summer, literally overnight we went from this:

To this:

So to all my fellow BCers – I apologize profusely.

I never meant to bring on the Exorcist fog.

In a bid to win back your hearts, I dedicate this Friday’s Fry-up to you all.

Here we go!

Just a walking down the street.

Yesterday the world let me that I was looking pretty good.

Now you may ask yourself, well, how do I know this?

I will, of course, spill all my secrets, but first: you must acknowledge that you definitely read that last sentence in the voice of David Byrne.

(And remember: this is not your beautiful house.)

Second, I know that I looked good because other than having spent the majority of my work day making kissy-duck faces in my compact mirror (spoiler: that didn’t actually happen), I counted a few dudes giving me the old how-do-ya-do as I walked the length of the downtown core on my lunch break.

(For those of you not familiar with my antiquated euphemism, I mean they checked me out.)

Okay first off – I don’t normally notice these things. And if I do, I either get really angry because the level of douche accompanying the check-out is off the charts, or get all shirty and do really stupid things like winding myself on parking meters.

How I normally feel about these things.

I should also stress that when I first started to notice this happening, I initially just assumed I had food all over my face because a.) I often have food all over my face and b.) I’m not just that conceited okay?

However, as it kept happening even after I completed my secret, ultra-inconspicuous “face wipe” (my ace in the hole for successful social outings and for Keeping the Passion Alive™) I started to kind of dig it.

I stopped thinking about Justin Trudeau’s twenty-six page photo spread in Maclean’s magazine, how foggy it was when I woke up this morning, national security threats in the form of Chinese telecoms, Russian spies in the Canadian navy, if I was going to eat asparagus ravioli or cheese on toast for dinner, and just how much I hate it how my other winter coat is just a tiny bit longer than many of my dresses, so when I wear it, it looks as though I’m not wearing anything at all on my bottom half.

I allowed my mouth to form the faintest of smirks.

I slowed my gait ever so slightly, switching gears from “charging bull” to “lolloping giraffe.”

I even managed to steer clear of all manner of dangerous sidewalk detritus, such as parking meters (more commonly known as my diaphragm’s nemesis) and MEN AT WORK signs.

After all, it’s my klutzy nature that is one of the many reasons I don’t normally pay attention to how the surrounding populace reacts to me as I charge about town.

Also, I’m normally too busy checking out all the other weirdos and what’s going on in their lives. I just waiting for the day that I come across someone with braided nose hair and a roving eyebrow.

(I figure I’m about two levels short of achieving this goal.)

But hey, some days are the exception to the rule right?

And some days, well, you just look exceptional.

I find you a-MUSE-ing.

When I say that I currently cannot stop listening to Muse’s 2nd law album, I actually mean to say that I cannot stop listening to this song on repeat:

IT’S SO GOOD GUYS.

If I was fifteen years old, I would listen to this some on loop while visualizing what it would be like to make out with Christian Bale, fretting over whether or not post-braces I would be attractive enough to get a boyfriend.

Then I would lip-synch the absolute crap out of it.

As a twenty-seven year old, I can honestly say the process isn’t that much different.

Just kidding! Christian Bale is SO twelve years ago.

Although, I am concerned about just how love I love this song:

I was out driving the other night and it came on the radio, and I was all “TURN IT UP AND CHAIR DAAAAAANCE!!”

When I came home and youtubed the lyrics my jaw nearly hit the floor.

You see, I’ve been trying to keep my life one hundred per cent Justin Bieber-free and to have his girlfriend just waltz her way into my unassuming heart was a bit of a shock to my system.

But then, what could I possible do except let loose a resounding MEH?

I mean, the main lyrics to this tune are: I love you like a love song baby.

That stuff is my kryptonite. It’s impossible for me not to love it (like a love song.) And as I’ve said before: I will never stop loving cheesy and heck pop.

Must. Stop. Saying. Love.

Onwards!

Spreading the word.

Today is my first talk with the United Way Speakers Bureau, a campaign that runs until the end of December. I will be out spreading the good word about Big Sisters and the importance of mentorship in the lives of young women.

This is a cause that is very near and dear to my heart and I am stoked to be out there sparking interest in this truly phenomenal program and organization.

If you have ever given thought to volunteering as a Big or just want more information, please let me know and I would be happy to chat with you more about my experience.

You will change lives.

It will change yours.

Happy weekend you beauty cats! I can’t wait to hear what you all get up to.