Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank you for all your support, I feel charmed to have been this lucky. I am now making the move from Melicious Manners to Polite Company, and want to invite you along for the ride!
If you’ve enjoyed my blog thus far, don’t miss out on any of the fun!
See you there!
The ever Melicious Manners
Alright, so Summer has slammed Toronto like a Blue Jays winning streak. With weather warnings for extreme heat and torrential rain. I mean, last week we were in slogging through soggy spring and today its a different kind of soggy all together. It’s a sweating, saturated soggy that slicks your hair to your sticky face. It stinks up and stains armpits. Tis the season we wish for all 8 months of winter long, finally it has arrived in all it’s A/C blaring glory. So, my question is this, when does the complaining stop?
As Canadians we tread the weather gauntlet every year. Cold, colder, warm death, wet, wadding, breezy, gale force and blistering; we get it all. But no matter what we claim we want, we’re never happy. Well, that’s not fair to weather. Weather doesn’t know the difference between good and bad. It’s not a people pleaser…except for the first week of warmth that exposes all the skin that’s been so long nestled under multiple comforting layers. The order of the seasons never changes. The only variable is the severity. But every dang year its the same thing: Longing for the glorified summer heat while staring out over blowing snow drifts. And when the sunny summer weather finally does make it’s appearance, we’re burnt by its audacity to really heat things up. Like an Ex-boyfriend, one who’s been gone long enough to forget just how much of a dink he was. Even he doesn’t deserve the complaints we launch against weather.
Weather has become the catch-all for bad days; blaming humidity for fluffy hair. The rain becoming a social barometer, leaving puddles of unbroken pressures. Cloudy days depleting our Vitamin D reserves, evaporating our happiness into dark rain filled puffs. Humidity raising temperaments of those already hot under the collar. The toughest part about weather complaints is that, no matter what is really bothering us, we can’t change the weather. It’s gonna thunder through ’til it’s gotten everything out of its system. The only gloomy cloud you can chase away is the one hanging over your own head. And the only heat wave we have the power to break is in your mind. Rain, shine, winter, spring, summer or fall, all you have to do is call, and I’ll be there; you’ve got a friend…who will remind you the sun will come out tomorrow.
My life is a giant pile. I hold onto sheeeeit forever cuz I’m too cheap to throw it out. I have dirty doubles of everything. Gym clothes I’ve worn for the 2 hours for the last 3 days. Stuff that’s not so bad, but doesn’t fit me. Clothes that the waist is too big but the thighs are too tight. I am always between sizes even though I have every one. I have stuff I don’t even like. I don’t use it, okay, wait, I’ve used it twice. The second time in hopes that I might like it if I tried it again. Episode VII: A False Hope. BFF is a fan of saying the state of your house reflects your state of mind. My life is upside down. Items that I use daily stacked on top of unsorted minutia. Piles of disaster. Like, there is laundry from last week, cuz Sunday is usually laundry day. Now, 2 days of extra laundry doesn’t mean anything, but it was out-of-place and building one hell of a pile. Toppling over and screaming to be scaled. Starring at it is when you realize the best tool for the job is a blow torch? Where do I even begin? For starters the giant laundry monster needed to be wrestled into the washer. Then take a breath and start sorting out these piles.
After spending a long day wearing hells, no heels and then hula hooping for 30 mind numbing minutes; I started cleaning up; and this is the Crazy Train of Thought that went through my head:
“I hate these shoes. I want to have shoes in my closet I’ve only worn once. Wait, that’s not gonna happen…yet. You just got a closet for crying out loud. Hubby hates that you have so many shoes as it is. Also, get a grip on the material things would ya? You end up hating most of the things you buy anyways. What is there like 50 jackets in here already. All varying weights to layer throughout the year. Cuz heaven forbid I not be dressed for the weather on set. And you have to be prepared for a million years, and the weather changes a lot in a centamillenum. Sigh, So-and-So’s* clothes are always so nice. I wish I was able to care for my clothes that well. Everything I own is covered in hair. I look like I’m a day late for a hair club convention. So-and-So’s clothes look great because they are new. You know no matter how well your clothes are cared for it’s been a long time since they were new. Duh. Has it ever occurred to you that a new rotating wardrobe was even possible? Well, no cuz, I am only able to buy either a top or bottom. Never both. So 50% always looks like its hanging on for dear life. And sometimes those over worn items betray me entirely with a full fledge surrender. Remember the splitting in front of my mostly male work buddies? I’ll never hear the end of that. I have to say I was glad I was wearing my granny panties that day. In fact every-time my undies have shown I’ve been wearing granny panties, oh wait except for that one photo that had to be destroyed. It would have threatened my reputation.
When I looked up from my seat on the Crazy Train through Mental Town, I had sorted out, stacked away, washed, rung and rinsed more than I thought possible in one night. Did I complain along the way? Yes, of course. Actually, I complained most of the way. First world problems and all that…Also, it’s nice knowing that sometimes we’re all going through the same problems. I am happy that my little trip to Tidyville resulted in a cleaner home and hopefully clearer mind frame. If I am to attain higher heights, a pile simply will not do, I will need to build a better foundation to reach my goals. For now it’s clean. Neat and tidy with hospital corners; for now. Hubby says he still loves me the way I am, but part of me can’t help but wonder if it’s my hoarding tendencies that will be the last stop before his Crazy Train leaves the station.
*names changed to protect the innocent
While trying to switch over my blog from one platform to the next I am in the techno process of figuring this twitchy glitch out. Already, I have lost a year’s worth of FB likes and Tweets, Retweets and Favourites… though the good vibes and great feelings will live on in me.
So, for now WordPress Dearies. Try this on for size. Instead of uploading them one by one…This link houses my first year of published writing. Minus a few for long weekends and mental health days. I hope you love them just as much the second time around. Mwah!
MeliciousManners.com – Melicious Manners.
Two weeks ago, I was sitting curled up, sipping on a glass of tequila, reading The Huff Post Guide to Blogging. As I sat there I wondered what my first blog would be about. When the warmth of the tequila spread across my chest as only tequila can. I realized that this was my first blog. Then I got procrastinaty and “forgot” write it. So 2 weeks later here we go for a real start without the tequila.
Although I am behind on all fonts*wink, I have been training my brain and my fingers. With the new addition of the ukulele, Lil’Betty to my schedule this January aswell as this blog, a vlog, a one woman show, a stand up routine, fitness program and a few tv series pitches. I am getting new calluses everywhere and feeling procrastinaty again, but I should be able to do all that in a year? Right?