Chirstmas Comes but Once a Year!

I'm nothing if not traditional...

To mix it up I'm stealing a Christmas game from The Bloggess. It's called 'Favourite Gift/Worst Gift'. I want to preface this by saying that yes, I know, any gift is a blessing. And no, I'm not being petty. We've all had memorable gifts given to us, be it the gift itself or the experience of receiving it. The reverse is also true. So don't get all uppity and have a full humpty dumpty. If you don't want to play, don't play.

Favourite Gift: this is tough, because I have had many memorable gifts that I love. Like, lots and lots of love. But I think I'm going to have to go with Heart to Heart Bear, who for years kept me safe at night, and played the role of many when no one else would, including 'baby', 'store shopper', 'library customer', etc. I still have Heart to Heart--he's safe in Mum's basement sharing a basket with Georgia Carmen (my Cabbage Patch Kid.) I should fish them both out and bring them home for safe keeping...

Worst Gift: a female manager from many, many moons ago once gave me a pair of fairly provocative pyjamas for Christmas. It was exceptionally awkward. Needless to say I never wore them.

Your turn! And merry Christmas, all. Blessings to you and yours in the 2014 and onward.

This time of year can bring out a lot of emotions.

The hustle and bustle of readying for the holidays--baking, shopping, stuffing, packing, poofing, fluffing, etc.--can be overwhelming; yet another thing to do on top of a growing list of commitments.

While ordinarily I would say that adding to my plate is not something I actively seek (my cup often 'runneth over', as they say...) I find this Christmas hustle both calming and stress relieving. No, I don't have kids, which I know optically means my evening hours appear substantially calmer. But in reality so much of what I do on a daily basis is (often begrudgingly) focused on others it can become consuming--I am not the type of person who can let this thought and worry go when I leave; I routinely stuff my Yaris with suitcases full of baggage at the end of the day.

But at Christmas I find the extra thought--the lists of things to buy, do, give, and make--become a pleasure. They focus me; remind me of how lucky I am and how grateful I should be for the many (many) blessings in my life, however heavy the packaging that comes with. I look for ways to give more of myself. And this reminder to slow down and count these treasures in my life couldn't come at a better time. A fresh start and a new year is just around the corner. With that comes the opportunity to let it go; to give away those suitcases and remind myself of why I try as hard as I do.

Dear, 'weeble wobble' Father Jim reminded me on Monday night of the Serenity Prayer which I have promised to say to myself in the morning. This is my one and only New Year's resolution, and I share it with you.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

--Reinhold Niebuhr

I almost forgot how to log in to my Blogger account...

Bert and I are sitting cross-legged* in front of our portable space heater in the living room (damn these drafty old picture windows...), watching the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, and I find myself reminiscing. I think it was grade 10 when this series first captured my heart, and since then I have seen it countless times, to the point I could probably recite most of it on demand, should I ever be called upon for this bizarre party trick. Watching this movie transports me back to Hillcrest and Sunday nights on the couch watching Masterpiece Theatre with my parents.

(It's at this point in the post where you're thinking to yourself "WTF, Library Lady... You've been gone for 6 months and your return piece opens with a TV mini-series that aired 15 years ago?" And here's where I tell you to 'gear down'...)

It's crazy to think how much has happened in the last year, and yet how some things have stayed perfectly the same, my love for Pride and Prejudice being one of those constants. Getting into a warm bed with a good book is still something I look forward to at the end of a long day, although now that book is read on an iPad and I'm lucky if I can make it through a page or two before the melatonin kicks in and I'm riding the sleep train to dreamsville. The daily commute still requires a strong cup of coffee and loud music, but usually also includes a self-directed pep talk and deep cleansing breaths before stepping out into the parking lot in my sensible close-toed shoes. Weekends revolve around therapeutic shopping and evenings with friends, but my buggies are more commonly filled with home improvement accouterments and our shindigs are just filled with buggies, full stop.

What else happened in the last six months? Hmm...

Oh yeah! We got hitched... *scuffs toe*

... Went to Tahiti *sigh*...

... And Fingers had a flippin' baby (a huge fat baby!)

Thank you, Samsung Warm Vintage...

Life moves fast. Too fast sometimes (unless that life takes 40+ hours to enter the world in which case I'm told you thank Shiloh for anything they'll give you to move that life along an inch or two.) For now I'm content to take these changes as they come (and will attempt to squeeze in a blog or two when my brain obliges) but will also continue to take great pleasure in what remains the same, the comforts found in Mr. Darcy "and his 10,000 a year..." among them.

*I am sitting cross-legged, Bert is oozing beside me... Cats can't sit cross-legged, dummy.

Me, my book, a Moose, and a new red Muskoka...

... perfect Friday night.

Road Trip

1742. The number of times we listened to Under the Sea from Disney's, The Little Mermaid.
540. The number of minutes spent in the car.
82. The number of times we were asked, "are we almost there?" 10 minutes after getting into the car.
18. The number of Scooby Snacks consumed in two days.
11. The number of times we passed the portable DVD player back and forth from the front seat to the 'back back' trying to get Finding Nemo to play before we realized the bloody thing was broken a mere 3 hours into an 8-hour drive.
10. The speed, in Km per hour, Beef was traveling when she 'dropped me off' at the end of the trip... 
Nearly 6. The combined age of my nephews (4 1/2 years old, and 6-months old) who, all things considered, are marvelous company. 
5. The number of people sharing a hotel room. 
3. The number of sleep-depraved adults. 
1. Priceless video.

While I recognize it's an advertizing campaign...

... I still think this is pretty great. I dare you to think of what you would envision if you were asked to do that same sketch.

Real Beauty

Spring is in the air!

And in our house that means one thing: Mapletown! This year was Littlest C's first trip to Mountsberg. It's crazy to think it was four years ago we were here for the first time with Lil' C (same outfit and everything!) And while not much has changed outside of the inflated prices, it remains a yearly tradition, and one we know Dad is taking with us from his maple syrup cloud in the sky.

This year's highlight? Over our traditional pancake and sausage breakfast we launched into a discussion on age:

"How old are you?" Lil' C asks me.

"How old do you think I am..." I ask in return.

*thoughtful pause*

"14?"

"Nah, I'm a bit older than 14..."

"But I don't know any older than 14."

I love how simple life is when you're 4. Although I don't love that he assumes I'm as old as anyone could possibly get.

 

judge me as you will.

I'm really into UFC. And that's it. As hurr_ah would say.

Remember back in grade 10...

... when we were required to take one of those career matchmaking surveys? Remember that? Filling out one of those silly scantron sheets of a million questions, things like "do you prefer to be in alone or with a group" or "do you prefer to be indoors or outdoors"? At the end they provide you with a list of careers you should consider? Anyway, we have this database at work where you can take these kind of tests, and we've been asked to bone up on it to help kids who want access to it. So I took the test today.

My number one career match?

Martial arts instructor. My other top 10 options include 'diving instructor', 'funeral director', and 'choreographer'. Librarian was #18. Just before 'tour guide' but not after 'psychiatric aid'.

Gross.

I am the first to admit I watch terrible TV. Mindless trash. My downtime at night, in between crafting, kitty cuddles, and training runs is TLC and some choice reality shows. But I think even I have reached a point of complete and utter bewilderment.

First, I turned on the boob tube during dinner and some stupid Hollywood show was reporting on last night's college football game. Apparently at one point the cameras panned the crowd and focused in on the girlfriend of one of the quarterbacks. I gather, as Miss Alabama, she's a pretty girl, and her twitter followers went from less than 1000 before the game to 100,000+ by nights end. The news reporter finished the broadcast with:

"[what's her name] graduated from X university, cum laude, with a 3.5 GPA, a 24" waist and a 34" bust..."

Im sorry, but WTF? Her GPA followed by her boob size? This is news? If so, why aren't they reporting on the size of the quarterback's dink (sorry mom...)

---

Then... Shameful, I know, but I watched the first episode of The Bachelor. In my defense, I wasn't going to but dammnit Big Guy talked me into just watching the first one. So I did. And one of the contestants is a beautiful young woman who happens to have been born with only have one arm. She's a funny, intelligent, smart, advertising executive on the show looking for love (aren't they all?) So there she is, all sad and teary, pouring her heart out on camera about how she can't find love and the only reason she can fathom why she's still single is because of the missing arm...

Fast forward, and the bachelor arrives to give her a rose, saying the 3.4 minutes they shared wasn't enough for him and he hoped they could talk more later. Ad Exec is now elated. Direct quote:

"This rose means so much. It's validation that I'm good enough and I'm interesting enough for someone to want to keep me around. It's a huge symbol of empowerment and confidence and love."

A rose. On the Bachelor. This is validation for you, when you've grown up in the USA with only one arm overcoming daily obstacles and stigma. When you've graduated from a US college with no doubt an inevitable mountain of student debt which you are presumably paying off with your successful career in design. And a douche bag giving you a sloppy seconds rose because he liked the way you looked in your tight cocktail dress is a source of empowerment. Amazing. Great. Super.

Sometimes I hate people.