#93 – Have your fortune told

Today I took my lunch and sat and had a half hour $50 chat with Jane. Jane looked a little like Sally Jesse Raphael and repeated herself a lot. She held my hands under a very hot office type light which made me a little uncomfortable (you know my aversion to being touched).


Right from the get go she had me pegged for someone who is caring and nurturing, and who should be working with people – possibly as a teacher or a nurse or a counsellor, and maybe in a correctional facility. Funny – about 5 years ago I had my tea leaves read and was told the exact same thing – minus the correctional facility job part.

My job now has my full potential being held back (true), and that it doesn't allow me to be creative, and that is a large part of my ‘being’. I guess also true. She repeated numerous times at various points that I am very smart. She thinks I should stay in my line of work, but that I should look into other companies and that I will have no problem finding work. She sees me a career person who will be very successful (I hope so).

She saw three guardian angels on my left hand and drew 3 crosses with pen to mark them. I only remember 2 – Michael – the avenger angel who watches over children and Raphael the angel of new starts? It’s not really clear as I was sitting there thinking this lady was crazy for seeing angels on my hand.

Then she reads my palms. My head line is good and strong – so no mental illnesses for me as I age – good news I guess. It also shows my intelligence – sure. I have not one, but two love lines – one used to connect to my life line, the other is just little – WTF? The person I’m currently in a relationship with frustrates me because he is so unorganized (true), and I need to express this to him via a letter. Oh let me tell you I communicate that to him daily, but if writing a letter will put an end to it (yeah right), I’ll jump right on that.

I had pulled 6 cards at the beginning of the reading. The first card – the card of purity: love, trust, honesty. Um, yeah ok. I’m sure the majority of you are in stitches laughing right now. But you just wait it gets better. The second card I pull – the card of Michael – you know that angel that showed up on my left hand – well I’m off to avenge something soon. The third card – Ariel: trouble, mischievous – you know because that goes right along with purity. The next card said ‘sunshine’ at the top – can’t remember, but anyway it was for my desire to have youthful fun. CHECK. Finally something that makes sense! The fifth card THE TWIN CARD. Yup, I got a ‘honey, if you’re not looking to have twins be careful’. I don’t even know if I want one kid right now, but two. T is cut off forever. The last card was the card for grace meaning that I want everything in life to balance and flow together – doesn’t everyone? Supposedly I should cut things out of my life that are hindering grace. Noted.

I got back to work, told the temp receptionist what I had learned and she told me she could of told me all of that for the much cheaper price of $49.95. I booked an appointment with her next week :)

#87 – Get Waxed Down there

Family members, those with adversity to terms of female genitalia, and those with weak stomachs..


--STOP-------READING--------HERE

Still reading? Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Let me tell you about the weekend of pussy maintenance.

I never really understood the need to wax the vajay-jay? I myself don’t like to voluntarily sign myself up for anyone poking around in lady town. Am I wrong in thinking that all women hate their yearly gyno appointments that we partake in for health reasons? Getting waxed is basically the same position (minus the stirrups) only a different type of torture.

This body had not seen wax anywhere before. That’s right, I’ll occasionally pluck my eyebrows, but after watching what other women have put themselves through, and the redness the ensued after, I decided I could live with the eyebrows I was born with. I am a fan of the razor, I mean; you’re shaving your legs anyway right?

Now about waxing the vajay-jay. What are the benefits of spending $$, and voluntarily putting yourself through pain? Well you can proudly do somersaults in a bikini and not have to worry about any embarrassing situations in the nether regions – you know because I do those all the time. You free up the time taken in your normal routine to shave. It’s a cleaner feeling, and is maybe a little more sensitive to different fabrics, and the skin is very very smooth.

The cons to waxing. Well for one, it’s downright painful – however, not as bad as I had expected. Before proceeding with the waxing I asked my hairdresser what to expect and the response I got was “you know when you rip Band-Aids off?”. Well guess what? I don’t rip Band-Aids off because it’s too damn painful. I wait until I’m in the shower and then soak them and they slide right on off. Another con would be the ‘growth’ period you have to go through prior to the waxing so you have enough hair to make it worth it. At the beginning it’s down right itchy and after a week if you’re not into the full bush look, then you don’t even want to look at yourself in the mirror. And if you don’t feel sexy then……

My aesthetician was awesome. You have to go one of two ways here. Go with someone you know really well, or someone you don’t know at all, seems as they’ll be all up in your business and pain tolerance in women is completely different. My aesthetician has been my hairstylist for years and she received and answered many e-mails in the weeks leading up to the appointment asking “when do I stop shaving”, “can I take extra strength Aleve before?”, “Is being hung over going to make it worse? Or should I just stay drunk from the night before?” She gave me a pillow to scream into if I needed it, and made the entire situation humorous.

You know how on TV you see them place one big strip of wax paper down and then rip it off. Well, that’s exactly what happens. Afterwards there is a throbbing and a burning sensation, but you believe the aesthetician is applying pressure to relieve the pain. 100% WRONG. She’s going back for left over hairs and doing as many “after rips” that she needs to finish the area. Those – you don’t see coming, and they are worse than the initial rip as you don’t know how many there will be?

As I can’t really show images of the wax ordeal -I will show you a picture of Banditt who experienced a shaving experience this weekend instead of a waxing one:

Will I ever go through with waxing again? It's still undetermined. I have to wait and see how long the 'results' last, and then maybe do some research on laser hair removal - it's gotta be less painful right?

Re-connect with a lost friend

If you look up ‘stubborn’ in the dictionary you will probably find my name. T says I’ve apologized all of zero times in my life (so not true). But it is a rare event that when it does happen T checks the sky for flying pigs and marks the day on the calendar. There isn’t anything that I do that isn’t well thought out, or done purposely to harm anyone, so why apologize for my conscious decisions? Yup, it's that bad.


Mark April 19th on your calendar as the last time I apologized, and I don’t even believe an apology is justified as it was me that was hurt, but I sucked up my stubbornness to attempt to re-connect with someone who at one point knew me better than I knew myself on most days.

I really wasn’t going to get into it in detail, but you know what? It’s my blog. Deal.

We met years ago when I had started a new job. I originally got a cold feeling from her and thought she was a complete bitch. I was completely wrong. I’m actually having a hard time writing this because it’s hard to explain how wonderful she is. Her wit and sense of humour made us survive an office atmosphere that would put most people in therapy.

When I left the company our friendship didn’t end. Every morning I’d either find an e-mail or type an e-mail to her and the e-mails would go back and forth all day. Week nights we’d go for walks, or drink wine, or go to the movies. Weekends we’d hit up the market, or a mall, or even once a play. Yes, I was drunk, and we were only there to check out a potential date. No matter what happened in our lives we were always there for each other. She is the exact opposite of a ‘social butterfly’ and she stood up in my wedding for me. Incredible, I love her for this.

Well due to the craptastic auto industry her job came to an end, and the recession hit, and there were no jobs in her field to be found anywhere. We still e-mailed constantly, I kept an eye out for jobs for her, and helped her in whatever way I could. She started looking for jobs Eight hours from here, and was excited at the possibility of moving while I was trying so hard not to be crushed. What would I do without her? Sprial out of control? Yup.

She started closing people out and sent an e-mail like “if you don’t hear from me this week, don’t send out a search party, I’m fine”. We go from e-mailing constantly daily to nothing for a week? So I respected her wish but still left a package of her favourite things outside her door one night. I didn’t hear from her for days. This hurt. In this time T & I bought our first house.

When we spoke again she seemed better, but was being forced to live with a relative to cut the cost of her rent as her EI was going to run out shortly, and she didn’t want any ties so that she could up and go if she got a job up north. I was trying to think of cheap and/or free things to do so that I could get her out. I mentioned wanting to bring her to see the house and this is what I got:

Don't think I want to see your big, beautiful house when I am being forced to live in a shoe-box sized bedroom. Perspective J9

That hurt. It’s my first house. I do things for friends all the time that I don’t want to, but they are my friends. (I sat through an entire play didn't I?) I can’t tell you the number of times I was the third wheel, or was dragged to a party or wedding etc as a ‘guest’ because a friend didn’t want to go alone. Anyway, I never responded to the e-mail. She sent another e-mail to wish me luck on the move, but my stubbornness stopped me from replying. That was in November - It’s April.

Here is what I sent:

48 hours later – nothing. I’ve checked my e-mail account a million times. I deserve it, and she’s just as stubborn as I am. If nothing comes from it, at least I tried and I don’t regret that. Also, I hope that whatever she is doing she is happy.

So lesson of the day – don’t ever let an amazing person like this leave your life.

#20 - Quit Something.

Do you know what I hate more than having to get up every morning to go sit in front of a computer for Eight hours slowly rotting away my youth for a pay check? I hate having to spend whatever free time I do get on evenings and weekends cleaning. So I’m quitting cleaning. Cleaning and I are over.


Every night after work the conversations with myself (crazy, yes I know) go something like “should I cook dinner and run 5 km’s or clean the bathrooms?” Exercise wins. Or, how about “should I stay in the city and visit friends or go home and vacuum?” Friends win. Cleaning NEVER wins.

There are women out there that find cleaning therapeutic but I am not one of those women. If you are one of those women please explain to me exactly how that works?! Also, if you’d like some extra money – maybe we could arrange a deal that would help both of us out!!!

T’s sensor for ‘dirty’ doesn’t exist. He claims to never know when something needs cleaning (bullshit) and is so laid back that this house could fall down around him and he’d just watch. So I’ve got no help there. This house is much larger than the last, and my days have become an hour shorter due to the commute. I also now have a lawn with all this crazy landscaping that I know nothing about. You will read more about this in #3’s ‘Grow Something’ at a later date.

I’ve still got another 91 things left to accomplish on my list and only 404 days left to do them all. Not that I’m complaining as its making life far more than just interesting. On any given day I’ve been attempting to run/read/grow something/learn a foreign language/research religions and plan other things on the list and keep up the blog, oh and add work in there too. I absolutely love doing these things because it’s plenty of organizing and that’s what I do best.

Actually, organizing is what I do best, but it also causes me the most stress. I am so organized that I can tell you on any given day what we are eating that night, or any night that week, and what I will be wearing each day etc. I keep a spreadsheet that tracks meals, outfits, appointments, finances, gift buying etc. It’s crazy - I’m crazy, and I know this. But if one thing happens to throw the entire week off course it makes me a little uneasy. It’s this weird need to be prepared for everything that is a trait passed down from my father.

Take a look at my closet (well not a great look as closet picture taking is hard). My clothes are hung colour co-ordinated with tops on the left and skirts/capri’s/dresses on the right. What you can’t see is a shelving unit full of shoes organized by colour and heel height, and my five outfits that are already picked out for each day of the upcoming week and hung in accordance to the weather forecast. Ok, so I have an illness, and my closet is just one example.

T saw that my need to be organized, as well as having everything clean, was stressing me out. With our nights and weekends full with social commitments, we’ve opted to hire a cleaning service so that I can just focus on organizing. You know, why not feed the illness? Did I pre-clean before the cleaning service came for our initial visit this morning? Why of course. I also spent the entire afternoon yesterday organizing the garage. I could tell you more about the illness but it would only scare you away.

Do I feel bad because I’m hiring someone else to clean my house when I don’t even have children to mess it up? Yes, kind of like a failure, but T classifies as a child on most days. Plus, if it’s going to give me more time to do the things I enjoy, thus making the most out of my youth, and saving my sanity all for the low price of $65 - T says it’s a bargain.

Complete a ½ Marathon

I did it. It was one of those pinch yourself because you can’t believe it life moments. I don’t run. If a year ago you asked me if I’d ever complete a marathon I would have laughed in your face. I play golf, occasionally roller blade, and swim in the lake, but I don’t run.


Back in the fall I mentioned to a co-worker that I had started jogging every night (one of those I’m not going to get fat over the winter resolutions), and she mentioned how she was addicted to ½ marathons, and how I should make that a goal. Well, I’ve gotten up to running 5km’s a day, and 13km’s every Saturday, so I figured why not now before the weather gets too hot (I’m a fair-weather jogger).

For the last two weeks I’d go online and fill out the registration form only to get the end and not hit send with thoughts of “you’re crazy”, and “you can’t do this”, going through my head. Yesterday reached the highest point of self-doubt I’ve had in a long time. I was nervous and doubting my abilities and poor T had to reassure me over and over again, and wipe away many, many tears.

To take my mind off today, yesterday a few girlfriends and I headed state side to do some shopping. You see, not being a runner, I didn’t own anything that runners wear. You know that un-wanted wiggle that no one should ever witness? Well how about we highlight that fine quality in some shiny shrink wrap? This body has never seen spandex (nor should it have ever), and to me spandex is scarier than a bikini. At least in a bikini most people are just looking at the ta-ta’s and don’t notice the horribleness of everything else. Well, and I can’t believe I’ve done this – I’ve lost 40lbs. I put on the spandex and looked down and I didn’t recognize my own body. It’s a surreal experience when you don’t recognize yourself in a mirror. I haven’t worn a medium anything in at least a decade. After an “I can’t believe I’m crying in a Kohl’s change room” moment, I quickly discovered that no matter what size I am I can never wear lime green.

I didn’t sleep much, I couldn’t eat breakfast, but this morning I woke up determined. Before the race started I met a group of ladies who told me they run/walk, and they do it for fun – my kind of people. They stocked me up with these energy jelly beans, and disgusting gel energy stuff, and gave me lots of helpful hints and every time we past a kilometre marker they’d celebrate. Not only did we run and walk, but sometimes we danced (and you know how I love dancing). I stayed with them the first 11km’s until I just needed to put in my earphones and crank tunes in order to find the energy. When things started to suck (KM 13), a woman went by with a shirt that read ‘The rule of SUCK. It could ALWAYS suck worse’. That got me to KM 16 where I started questioning what the hell I was doing. My feet were starting to hurt, it was starting to get warm, the water stations were too far apart – all kinds of crazy things were going through my mind. Thank god Katy Perry & Timbaland came on and stopped the thinking, and started the very very very silent singing. Ok not that silent, but really you don’t care about much at that point.

The ta-ta’s abandoned ship at 19km’s. They decided to rebel against the constraints of the sports bra in protest as if my body was telling me to give up already, as I clearly wasn’t listening to my feet. Now you try fixing that little situation on a path with a ton of people - not fun, but again, I wasn’t caring. At Km 20, I could hear the people at the finish line and my eyes watered and I couldn’t believe what I was about to complete. It was at this point I met up with another first timer who was having a rough go and she and I finished together in 3 hours and 12 minutes.

I have 4 blisters on my feet, and my legs aren’t moving quite like they normally do, but I did it, and I did it before I turned 29, something I thought would take much longer to accomplish. And I’m hooked. I don’t think I’ll do another one right away, but I’ll definitely keep up my 5km’s a day – it’s become routine and pure stress relief.

If anyone reading this thinks you couldn’t do it - You can. I’m proof. This feeling is incredible. However, you might want to check back with me tomorrow morning after my body has seized up and I can’t get out of the fetal position. I will tell you that you should still do it, only I’ll also tell you to take Monday off work. I don’t foresee a café mocha and rap music getting a rise and shine outta my ass anytime soon.

#2 Break All Your Parents' Arbitrary Rules

When I first starting putting together this blog I called my mother and told her I needed to break all of her arbitrary rules, and asked what they were as I haven’t lived there in about 9 years. Her response was “You already did that in high school – mark that off your list”. So being the helpful person that she was I consulted with my brother and sister and decided that it would be way too much fun to break all their rules while in their house without them knowing I was doing it. I decided a trip home was in order - there are 2 spare double beds in the house they gave my brother one and his girlfriend the other - two SINGLE people get double beds, and T & I get an air mattress in the livingroom. GAME ON.


My first opportunity arose when my mother asked for a ride to drop off a gift at someone’s house. These were not friends of hers – she sees them maybe once per year, and they’ve never met me. They were standing in their garage when we pulled in and she said it would only take 2 seconds. 5 minutes later I decided to break the ‘don’t embarrass your mother rule’ as my paitence had run short. I used to have to put up with waiting in the car for her to chat to whomever for forever because it was her car. Not this time. It was a warm sunny day, the windows were down, and the sunroof was open and oh geez Jay-Z just happened to come on the radio. Volume level 8 = no response. Level 12 = a shake of the arm. Level 15 = a glare but still no movement. So all hell needed to break loose – level 25, and I started rapping. That did it, she was back in the car, but nothing was said. I was saddened by the lack of a response.

The next opportunity came with dinner. When I lived at home profanity was banned from the house – only dad could swear and only in the garage, unless of course he dropped something really heavy on his foot or the score of the hockey game ended not in his favor. So after drinking a bottle of wine to myself mid afternoon (I need to stop doing this), I decided that I was going to drop an ‘F bomb’ during dinner. It wasn’t a large dinner, just my parents, T, my brother and his girlfriend. I placed myself in a spot where I wasn’t within smacking distance of either parent and I waited for the perfect opportunity – this is extremely hard when you’re ½ in the bag and you’re having a hard time focusing on the conversation, let alone remembering your ultimate goal. Then just as a story of what took place on the golf course earlier in the day commences I add a “holy f*&k, that’s crazy!” I instinctively duck, and protect my head, only nothing comes at me. I get a wide-eyed look from my brother, but again – negative on the response.

Finally I think I’ve come up with a plan – a plan that will push my dad over his breaking point. We had a pool when we were kids and the rule was no wet bathing suits/towels past the laundry room door. You had to be dry or you were not to enter the house. Well, now there’s a hot tub instead of a pool, but all the same rules apply – towels/robes/bathing suits are all kept in the laundry room. After returning from the hot tub T (being the good son-in-law that he is) headed right to changing into dry clothes, I decide to wander past the laundry room/living room line dripping wet. I stand in the living room talking to my dad soaking the carpet and get no response. So I then head to the spare bedroom to talk to my mother, then back to the living room, and then all the way upstairs leaving a water trail everywhere, and I get nothing!

I don’t get it? 10 years ago I would have had a big can of whoop ass opened on me. Have my parents become softies over time or are they just happy that we are there now so they don't complain? Have I reached the age where I can't get in trouble any more because I should know better? 415 days until I'll grow up and am forced to know better, until then I've got another trip 'home' planned in a few weeks. BRING IT. (am I seriously talking smack to my parents?) Sorry Mom if you're reading this - love you :)