I Fished My Wish!

I know, I know it’s TalkBack Tuesday, but I took yesterday off for my Birthday weekend celebration wrap up. If you know me, then you know I have troubles surrounding my Bday- which of course stem from mild childhood disappointments exaggerated over time blah blah blah first world problems. And if you remember last year was a disappointment; as the Commish was in attendance in all his pleasure wrecking glory. But I pledged that this year was gonna be better and it was; here’s why.

1. I was specific about what I wanted to do and who I wanted to do it with.

2. I asked for my a few of my wanted-needs. Those things I feel weird buying myself and avoid doing because deep down I’m a cheapo.

3. There was no pressure. It was planned spontaneity. Which is my favourite.

4. I performed, which is my first love. And though it’s ‘work’ it’s something I’d like to do a lot more of…even on my birthday.

5. The Commish was banned from all birthday proceedings. Yeah he was! And thankfully he kept his distance.

6. I am happier in my everyday life than I have ever been. Which is amplified by special occasions…which bodes very well for the upcoming holiday season.

I guess what I wanted to say to all those FB messages, the strangers who sent over bday shots and my many social circles was- ‘Good job, folks! That’s a wrap on Project Bday 2013.’
Special shout outs go to my Hubby who spoiled me, BFF who bookended the weekend nicely, GFF and my on the road Showgirls. You know, I’m starting to think this whole Birthday thing should be a yearly tradition. Though I’m willing to try it quarterly. ❤

I Fished My Wish!

Birthday Wishlist

Hey fans its my bday in a few days and I wanted to make sure you knew what’s on my Birthday Wishlist:

1. A new pair of skinny jeans- my old skinny jeans aren’t skinny enough. Though it’s not because I’m so much skinnier, it’s because they were cheap.

2. Gift certificates, to anywhere. I love shopping, but as you may not know, blogging and showgirling aren’t the most lucrative of careers. It’s nice to treat myself without breaking the bank. I also love AirMiles;)

3. Phone case for a 4s. Mine is peeling and cracking:(

4. KTP tickets. I don’t know when she’s touring…but that was the best concert I’ve ever been to and I can’t wait to see what she does for us next.

That’s it. I’m pretty good right now. I mean I’m happier than I have been ever. I am proud to be turning 32 and I feel like I have so much more ahead of me. Let’s do this! Bestest Birthday on three. 1-2-3! BESTEST BIRTHDAY!!!!

Birthday Wishlist

On Track To Progress

How do you measure, measure a year?
In sunrise? In sunsets? In cups of coffee? In slightly outdated musical quotes? The world keeps turning, and everyday keeps sliding past like sand through the hourglass. So do the days of our lives. You are where you are now…but how should you measure your progress?

We have no control on the passage of time, it’s what we choose to do with that time that helps us progress. Two years is going to pass whether you go back to school or not. You’re 32nd birthday will arrive, whether you want to celebrate or not. All we can do is use our time wisely, or at least have fun.
Contrary to popular belief, time and progress aren’t the same thing. Older doesn’t always mean wiser, sometimes it just means crotchety and old.

Progress feels good. It’s not always easy, but knowing that you’re moving towards something is a reward in itself. It’s not as rewarding as an actual reward, but those are usually connected to lost dogs and pirate booty.

So, on this Thursday why not write down the progress you hope to make by next Thursday? Next month and beyond. Progress takes time and all we have is now. And then…but then doesn’t arrive until we start living in the now. Now, ain’t progress a fickle chick?

On Track To Progress

Anticipation Anxiety

For as long as I can remember I’ve had anticipation anxiety resulting in disastrous disappointment. I would get excited about a birthday party, school play or family vacation. Only to be let down. Now, these weren’t awful occasions, it’s just that the real thing never achieved the glorious heights my imagination had projected. The no longer hopeful me would sit poolside with her big fat pouty lip hanging out. Harumfing out my candles. And taking a curtain call with tears in my eyes. Now, looking back, I can see just how much I was missing by being a disappointed Dolly. Hindsight is 20/20, at least that’s what they say. But I think my mind’s eye is more like 50/20 and maybe even clairvoyant.

Now, I am not saying I am a psychic…well, at least not entirely. There are gaps of missing information, certain facts I don’t posses. I mean c’mon! How, could I know what I don’t know…ya know? But I am learning how to logically and clinically project possible outcomes for each experience, both new and familiar. Since, I know how I react to knowing; how the knowledge breeds expectation. I’ve altered my approach. Lately, I’ve been trying to keep myself in the dark. Flying without strict plans toward an anticipated end goal. Going with the flow. Hubby’s not a big fan of No Plan, but BFF’s easy going enthusiasm compensates for that. Also, Hubby’s plans typically involve food, a threatening resurgence of the Commish and walking Jilly, each of these situations arise daily. They aren’t much to anticipate, not to say they aren’t Amazing! (Oh, I hope the Commish isn’t reading this) Fun, however…planning straight up, no holes barred fun, makes me anxious. There in lies the rub. I am so focused on making each outing a memorable and momentous one, I am missing the mini-wins and letting my mega-mind interrupt.

Anxiety has become a clinical affliction. The heart pounding, chest tightening, pressured feeling that waves over the body. A dizzy, darkness closing in, forcing us to self-medicate. Anticipating the worst. Hey! Most things at their worst are still good, maybe even great. What me worry? I know I do. But, everyday I remind myself that all we have is today. I breathe deeply through yoga poses. I stretch and challenge myself. I sing. I snuggle Boots and the Bean. I kiss the Commish- against my better judgement. And I laugh, hard. Please remember that just because something is not what you hoped, dreamed and planned doesn’t mean it’s not perfect. That goes for me too. Until I practice what I blog, I’ll wish on all the stars for inner peace. HA! The closest I’ve come to peace is acceptance. But I’m pretty sure that’s the first step.

Anticipation Anxiety

The Road Rage Warrior

This past weekend was my Momma-in-law’s surprise 60th Birthday. She lives not so close; so, Hubby and I rented a car and joined all the other commuters on the road. All the angry, aggressive, impolite, inconsiderate, rule breaking commuters. Those unfortunate folks who spend 2 hours to work and 2 hours going home, alone in their cars, trucks and mini vans. Stopped and idling, the terminology Road Rage sprung to mind. Then started bubbling up from my toes. Curdling in my legs. Pooling in my stomach. Extending to my fingers which quickly found their way to the horn. And then finally escaping my mouth in a barrage of explosively blue language. My typically kind and patient demeanour quickly thrown under the wheels of my rented Yaris and left as road kill along the highway.

Wowey, the bumper to bumper, horn blaring, non-rush hour rush-hour, is a nightmare.
The radio station announcer sounding ever surprised that there was a stoppage in traffic at every corner of every intersection on our googled route. The two of us not wanting to veer off the geo-positioned satellite coordinated directions being piped in through all speakers in our shoe box, sat waiting. We waited for lights to change, for blinkers to turn and for garbage trucks to complete their shifts. We drove through white outs, squall warnings and past pile ups. We fought. With each other and hypothetically with the strangers in the vehicles around. Receiving no thank you waves from mergers. Being tailgated by ten tonne trucks and unable to pass people driving 85km/h in the fast lane. How, why and how again do commuters deal with this constant discord, that felt like a travelling circus, without any clowns.

As a Torontonian I am typically a streetcar, subway and go train rider. Doing double duty I read, write and watch the world go by. There are days when it’s late and I am tired that I wish I had a car. There are occasions when I wish that escaping the city was a little easier. Over all though, the stress I felt in the last 4 days of trying to turn left onto roads torn up with construction, stopped traffic at 10:15 am, registering for parking and the idiot in the Mercedes texting and trying to merge without a signal, was not worth the 4 wheel drive hatch back of having a car daily. Before delightedly dropping off my rental, I had to fill it up with gas. Erma Gerd! What a way to cap off my not so pleasing experience. With the cost of gas being through the roof, into the stratosphere, beyond the space station and circling the moon’s orbit, I got back into my teeny tiny Toyota, took a deep breath, thought Zen yoga thoughts and strung together a string of expletives that would shock my Momma. Handing the keys to this combustion chamber over to the rental clerk, he asked how my trip was. Fine, I said, hoping that any of my raging diatribes had not been recorded on the black box or would at least be erased before the next renter. Cuz as I’ve heard many times I’m not a bad driver, it’s everyone else on the road I worry about.

PS Black boxes in rental cars would be a great reality show. Just saying.

The Road Rage Warrior