Heather speaks her mind

Shutter Joy!

2008-12-18T17:05:00.002-05:00

Well I am proud to announce that I am finally doing something I am passionate about and hopefully will be able to make a little money doing it. I have registered and began my photography business under the name Shutter Joy Creations. I have started a temporary web page on Facebook for until my actual website is created. I will probably keep the facebook one going as well for more exposure.

Here is the link to the facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Toronto-ON/Shutter-Joy-Creations-Photography/50479962188?ref=nf#/pages/Toronto-ON/Shutter-Joy-Creations-Photography/50479962188?ref=nf . I think anyone can view it because it is a public page.

I hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas!

I Noticed Her Deliberately NOT Noticing Me...

2008-10-18T16:23:00.004-05:00

It seems like every year I find something unique at Value Village in Belleville and I feel compelled to buy it. Today I ventured there to find a halloween costume. Coincidently I was planning to dress up like a 1950's housewife but found nothing that I wanted. I did however find a little gem from the 1960's. I was picking up some play clothes for my children and on back of one of the girls clothing racks was a graveyard of barbies no longer of use to whatever little girl outgrew her girlhood barbie phase. One doll however stood out it had puffy orangish hair and at first I thought "look at that wierd barbie rip off." Curious I picked it up and quickly realized it was a vintage Barbie. Her hair although puffy had mostly maintained it's original shape, her body was in perfect condition (what a bitch), her only flaw was some flaked off make up on her snooty little face. I turned her around to see if she had any markings and sure enough on her right butt cheek was the marking: Midge T.M./©1962/Barbie®/©1958/by/Mattel, Inc./Patented.

When I saw her markings I thought it was a doll called "Midge" which I later learned was Barbie's Best friend who "shares Barbies stylish clothes, all her secrets, but NOT her boyfriend" but I found out that it was indeed Barbie herself. Her hairstyle: The Bubblecut. Colour: either Platinum Blonde, or Brassy Blonde. I figured that out because the lipstick colours on the platinum blonde and brassy blonde dolls were pale colours almost white and I could see on her lips a hint of the whitish coloured lipstick. Her eyes are a sparkling blue (well one eye is almost flaked off) and her make up is a thick line of black liner with blue shadow. Her expression is "I don't have time to look at you." It is no wonder that little girls have complexes! Barbie with her perfectly unachievable bubble cut hair, and her refusal to look at the little girl who is playing with her. Her flawless body containing ridiculously large perfect breasts, long legs and feet made for wearing impractical shoes.

I was late in my termination of my Barbie phase, I'm pretty sure if I wasn't embarrassed that one of my friends would catch me playing with her alone in my basement looking shiftily from side to side to be sure my sister wasn't lurking around the corner with a camera or with one of our mutual friends... I am pretty sure I would have played with Barbie even longer then until I was 13 years old, because for me she represented myself only grown up and sophisticated.

When I was playing Barbie I was Barbie. Perfect in every way. Perfect body, popular, stylish (not wearing altered hand me downs) hot boyfriend (although my Ken doll had real hair that made him look a little like a sasquatch with sewn on underwear.. I did get a Ken doll with plastic hair later who quickly replaced the old Ken. Apparently Barbie prefers a clean cut man.)

So now I am 31 years old, and quite delighted with my new Barbie (well I guess she isn't new, just new to me.) Perhaps her revival will bring about struggles difficult for Barbie to understand. 2008 is completely different than 1960 afterall, she better not bring her Ken around that home wrecking, gold-digging modern day Barbie, or let that little pot head skipper around her perfectly groomed children. She will have to get a job with the economy the way it is today, she won't be able to sit around drinking martini's and telling secrets with Midge anymore, secrets like "How she keeps such a slim figure", or "how her bubble hair stays so bubbly"...those days are behind her now. The cold hard facts are that Barbie's good looks won't carry her on their own. Modern Barbie has been a teacher, a doctor, a mom, a dentist. She's been in the military, (yes there was a desert storm barbie...I was surprised too). She's been a diplomat and even President, a Royal Canadian Mounted Police Officer and she was a Nascar driver. Barbie even did a stint as a Spice Girl... and when times were a little tough she worked at McDonalds for minimum wage. She's done it all. I may have to support 1960's Barbie for a while... I don't think she's ready to go to war or fight for human rights. Oh well... I'll lock the liquor cabinet and try to rehabilitate her and see how it goes. I'm sure after some desensitizing T.V. shows she will become more like our Barbie of today.. she might even look me in the eye.

DEAR President

2008-09-27T21:49:00.005-05:00

I understand that due to the giant corporation's need to make people want to dump their wallets and purses into the pockets of their CEO's and their presidents that they must take the letters they receive from consumers seriously. After all a letter from a customer means the customer was not happy, and an unhappy customer could mean loss of profit.... although I doubt it. It is my theory that unhappy customers shop more at the places they hate because they like to complain, but that is only based on how many frowns I see wander into my local retail giant/place of employment. I also have a theory as to why the unhappiest customer continues to shop at places they are most unhappy with. I back this theory up with substantial evidence. We will call this the "Bad Parenting" theory. Lets approach the unhappy customer as the spoiled child, and the giant retailer as the bad parent. The child is placed in an environment where they have access to everything they could dream of owning. They are told they are the most important person in the whole world, and not only that they are told they are NEVER wrong. They are constantly asked if they need anything or if they have found everything they are looking for. They are Rockstars and Royalty, and they are groomed as such by the bad parent. Let's review the parenting skills. Child asks for something, child gets, Child is unhappy with how they were treated and throws a tantrum, child gets more, child realized that they are rewarded by their behavior and writes a letter to their rich Grandparent who just wants to keep them seen and not heard (that would be the president of the company). Child gets even more rewards for their ridiculous behavior.
If you think about it people have been buying things for all of time, but in recent years the retailers have become less concerned with ethics and more concerned with the almighty dollar, that they will entertain any idea that could possibly make them more profitable. I won't get into the whole child labour issue, or the way employees are treated/paid in this blog. Instead I will focus on the Rockstar mentality of "the customer."

It reminds me of when you hear about certain celebrities having demands for their dressing room. For example let's say a celebrity wants their room to smell like fresh baked cookies because it helps them relax, and they wish to have their bottled water imported from France and m and m's arranged in the shape of their face laid out on their bed for when they arrive in the room. Unless that celebrity is "A" list they probably wouldn't have their demands met, but all customers are "A" list (unless they work for the company they are shopping at). So when they have demands, no matter how ridiculous they seem the retail giant is there at their beckon call.

Recently a customer went shopping at a giant retail chain and they felt they were treated terribly. They were called a four letter word by the lady who greeted them at the door. This customer was so upset by this that she felt inclined to write to the president of this retail chain. Let me tell you what this employee did, because it is so unbelievable that you will probably fall off your chair. She actually said to the customer, "Would you like a cart dear?" I highlighted the word dear because this was the offensive four letter word that drove the customer to such rage that she blew up at the employee at the store. She demanded to speak to the manager after about 15 minutes of degrading words toward the employee. After the manager apologized that the customer was offended, and it seemed they had calmed her down, that customer left the store apparently still feeling the injustice of her shopping experience and went to her computer and began to type. I honestly even with my vivid imagination can't even begin to imagine what she wrote. It probably went something like this: "Dear President, [it might be OK for her to use that word because she is the customer] Your employees should know how to address me as I am the customer and I am always right!" OK maybe not quite like that but close. Now if I was the president, and received a letter complaining because one of my employees was nice to someone, I'm pretty sure I would chuckle a little and realize "hey some people are crazy" and move on to the thousands of other emails I probably have complaining about ridiculous things. Then I would think, "wow it is nice that our employees are that friendly even if this customer doesn't like it." But just the opposite happened. The president forwarded the complaint back to the store, which means it requires action, the store addressed the complaint at a meeting that takes place where they announce new policies and sales reports to the employees. They informed the entire store: "due to a customer complaint, we ask that [employees] no longer address customers with the term "dear", or "hun", or "love" as it may offend certain customers." They mentioned that a letter was written. One customer was offended and a letter was written, 150 employees were reprimanded for being kind to customers and asked to no longer use affectionate terms when addressing customers. Every employee was made to feel stupid because they come to work for minimum pay and try to enjoy their job, they try to treat the very customers that look down on them as kindly as they can because these associates understand that is their job.

I feel like "the letter to the president" has gone too far. People will clearly write a letter for anything, and no complaint is taken lightly no matter how ridiculous it is. The employee that addressed the customer as dear felt hurt that her company did not back her up. That they did not explain to the customer that employees do not mean any disrespect when they use affectionate terms toward the customer, and that although they regret she was offended, that the mass majority of customers enjoy kind treatment and therefore our associates are permitted to continue to make every attempt to make our customers feel at home.

Not only was that employee hurt but there were many employees who felt like they had to change who they were to conform to one customer's complaint. Many people use affectionate terms in their everyday speech and it takes effort to not use them.

So if you are a customer and you are about to write a letter, remember that you are just one customer and unless it is a valid complaint and you truly were mistreated, and you feel that the treatment you received could honestly hurt more then just you, don't write the letter. LET IT GO! Sometimes it's better to just suck it up. Let's face it [in case the lady who wrote the " dear president" letter is reading] there are worse things to be called then dear wouldn't you think?

Is this appropriate?

2008-07-19T21:08:00.004-05:00

Sometimes we have to stop and wonder what is appropriate in life. Like for instance is it appropriate to allow your date to pay when you find him/her repulsive and you know you will never see them again? Or is it appropriate to laugh at a funeral, because I have to say I have yet to go to one that has not been funny at some point during. I will elaborate... death can't always be sad. Sometimes I think I have been cursed with extreme observance in awkward or sombre situations such as funerals or inopportune meetings. I once went to a funeral and as the family was entering the sanctuary one of the children of the deceased had inadvertently tucked her skirt into her panties and began to wander out with great dignity and respect to her perspective seat. I did manage to stop her from displaying her hind quarters to all who had known and loved her mother in life but could not forget what could have happened while trying to reflect on the loss of this wonderful woman. You know when the shoulders shake and you are trying not to laugh. I was the unfortunate victim here because I was the sole person to have seen this and was in an unfair predicament...I did maintain enough composure that I don't think too many people could have noticed that I had tears in my eyes not because I was mourning in sadness, but instead because I was holding back my very inappropriate laughter. Know that the lady who had passed on had a very sick sense of humour and I am not convinced that she did not have something to do with this.

I recently witnessed probably the most unique display of questionable etiquette I had ever dreamed of seeing and will I am quite certain never see again. Even more questionable is whether my reaction and/or actions were appropriate. Note the photo above and realize that we were not at a strip club, or a strippers wedding for that matter. The couple were delightful people and displayed a level of integrity and class that was not only noticeable but it was admirable. All day myself and the other photographers I worked with were commenting on how these people stood out in that way. The wedding guests were all dressed divinely. Fashionable gowns and suits or tuxedos...with the exception of one guest. I had seen her in the church during the ceremony and noticed her purple and black streaks in her hair but barely took notice. But during the receiving line something seemed out of place.... Maybe it was the child who flopped himself down on the ground...no that wasn't it... Maybe it was the man who clearly had either a wig or a dead animal on his head...No even that was not it. OR maybe it was the lady who's buttocks was in plain view and as she hugged the bride her micro mini skirt rose to the occasion displaying a clear view of her a**!

This was indeed something that as I tell you the story if I did not include the photo you would probably not even imagine the skirt that short. I felt I needed to ask the question of how short is too short when it comes to skirt length at a wedding? and where in this woman's rational thought process did something go terribly wrong that made her presume that it was appropriate to display her bum at a wedding. I find things like this very interesting. I also found it very endearing that the other guests tried very hard not to make it obvious how they felt about her attire. The bride and groom treated these guests with sincere kindness and did not appear to look down on them. So who was more inappropriate? Was it her, or me for thinking she should not have come dressed like that *although I thanked the photo op gods for such a randomly absurd photo*. I have to say I felt a little humbled that the bride and groom could be so non-judgemental...of course who is to say that they will not go to their bridal suite that night having to wipe the memory of this woman's booty from their brains in order to not taint their wedding night.

The booty did spark a curiosity in me about what is appropriate and whether there has ever been a time where I was the one who was quite unaware that I was standing out like a naked a** at a wedding.

Forest Of Confusion

2008-06-22T18:04:00.004-05:00

Sometimes the view ahead is like a forest of confusion.
The only light you see has to bleed through the treetops leaving indistinguishable shadows.
There are so many paths you find it hard to choose one.
There is daylight everywhere but within the forest walls and you long to see the light of day again.
You are so deep in the forest that you have lost sight of freedom and you forget what light looks like.
It's as though you have been wandering the forest and the trees begin to look the same and you are lost.
The forest floor is cold and foreboding the wind whispers all your secrets and reminds you that you once had a compass and a map, but you were too careless and you forgot you needed those items to survive.
You have forgotten something else, and the wind whispers teasingly and you start to resent it's truths.
You have forgotten that you don't need to get out, you only need to find a way to survive in the forest and it will become less confusing.
You have forgotten that there are clearings and that your forest is beautiful and lush and when you stop to think about it's beauty you remember where you left your compass and your map.
Suddenly it becomes clear and the wind's whispers subside, your own thoughts become clearer.
Your compass and map were there all along, you were just too preoccupied to use them.
You head in the direction of the light and you see the sun bursting it's light around you.
Behind you is the forest of confusion, always there but you managed to find the clearing and freedom from the whispering winds.
You will visit the forest again but the lessons you learn each time you wander into it's depths can only make you stronger and those tall trees and the judgmental wind will be no match to your cunning.

This is a blog about nothing

2008-04-18T23:44:00.004-05:00

It has been a minute since I have posted anything on here. I realized recently that if I don't write I forget about what is interesting about my life so despite the fact that I can't find anything to talk about I am going to write anyway......*awkward silence*....*cough cough*....*crickets chirping* Well..clearly this is a work in progress. It may take a few very uncomfortable blog entries for me to get myself back into the swing of this. You might have to bear with me.

One thing that is especially good about me getting my blog on again is that I have been getting the urge to do some major photography. I think it's the nice weather that has sparked my passions again. I want to write and draw and sing and take pictures. I think the winter makes me somewhat stale. It's like I'm too cold or something, or everything is too white and I can't even imagine colour under that blanket of snow. Why do people call it a blanket anyway? Blankets are warm and inviting. I would most certainly not want to curl up under a thick blanket of snow. There are only a couple of things I like about Winter. One would be Christmas, but I would be just as happy to hear sleighbells on my rooftop from a warm climate. I was sitting here trying to come up with something else I like about Winter but I can't think of anything right now so I will move on.

Well....To avoid another one of those awkward silence moments I am going to keep this one short and sweet. Next time I will try to actually say write something that has a point...

I Can't Get Enough of This

2008-01-10T21:26:00.000-05:00

One day I was looking for a birthday video to send to one of my facebook friends. I wanted something funny and not lame. Then I found this...Funny...but kind of lame. Lame in a good way though. I have to say, my Indian friends/acquaintances are holding out on me. Why have they not told me about such genius in both film making and comedy. There are a few versions of this song on youtube but this is my favorite and I think it is the original. I need to get my hands on this movie. I have a feeling it will become a favorite of mine.

I love it from start to finish..from the little figurines dancing in the beginning. Every aspect of the choreography is genius...sheer genius.. Sonita is a beautiful and gracious Birthday girl..she didn't even punch those girls in the gut when they shoved balloons in her face. I don't really get the grey haired soccer coach and his role in the song..but I say the more the merrier at Sonita's birt-day...Maybe I need to see the film to understand his role. And what are those servers whispering about? I want to know!! I am not sure what they are saying at the end of the clip when Sonita and the guy in the white suit that has been trying to get into her pants all night start chatting. They are speaking in Indian at first then suddenly they switch to English for a second. Sonita says "I'm sorry.." More indian...then the white suited guy says, "bye bye" and Sonita says "bye" and they part ways. He's a player..He's probably on his way to Bonita's party, maybe that is what the servers were whispering about.

Cherry Bums and Dry Skin

2007-12-07T14:35:00.001-05:00

My boss Stephanie is one of the most wonderful people I know. She has always been quite organized and sensible. That being said I think lately she is becoming more and more like me. I know she will read this and say "That's preposterous, More like Heather...Pffft...Never. Heather forgets to do stuff, she laughs at inappropriate times, and although I've trained her well she is NO VIRGO!"

I will not deny any of those things...I do forget, I always laugh at things that others might consider sick, or demented, and by Stephanie's biased definition, I am definitely not a Virgo. I know you may say that all this Virgo stuff is a bunch of hocas pocas, and it may very well be, but all the people I know that are born in that August 21st to September 21st period share this need to organize and innate knowledge of where things ought to be kept. Lately however my dear friend Stephanie has exhibited some signs of becoming more and more like me.

Example #1- Steph's meticulous attention to detail would in the past have been rivaled by even such people as Martha Stewart. She never missed a beat, and would be the first to strike out a spelling error on a note and correct it with the proper spelling..Even if the note was as simple as "Pleas pick up milk." She is reading this right now and saying "she misspelled please." But this week it was noted that on our charity box in our workplace where we collect people's small change and donate it to a charity, our meticulous manager forgot to put a charity's name on the box. The box read something to the effect of: The holidays are a time for great food and family. We do not charge for minor repairs, but we ask that you kindly donate." Donate to what? Stephanie's turkey dinner, the staff Christmas party (this is an inside joke by the way to anyone I work with..so enjoy) It was funny because this time of year people are usually generous and give, but our box was "prit near" empty..just some pennies and a couple of loonies which were probably donated by those who never cared to read the box. I even noticed a spelling error she made in our communications notebook at work..I jubilantly corrected the spelling and SHE DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE!!!

Example #2- She forgot her brown shoes. This might seem silly to those out there that are not Virgos, but I have been "blessed" with a lot of Virgo's in my life, and I have to say they are all detail oriented, and very organized. I sometimes think I have been put on this earth to make Virgo's go crazy, but that is another blog in itself. Stephanie one day this week was dressed to the nines. She had on a beautiful purple sweater (and she will correct me with the exact colour name "it's Grape" she will say to me on Monday...and I will laugh inappropriately loud), and forgive my non Virgo-ness here but I do not remember if the pants were purple...or grape as well or if they were brown to match the brown accents in her sweater and the brown accessories..Hell I could have all these colours wrong..but work with me here I have a point. She had the outfit co-ordinated when she purchased it so it was important to her to wear the correct footwear to bring the outfit together. I did not notice anything wrong with her footwear, and I still think her shoes were just fine that she had on..but as soon as someone complimented her outfit was when I saw that she was deeply bothered.."Thank you, I got it in the states, but as you can see I forgot my brown shoes.. I was in such a rush this morning." Unless that person was a Virgo, I'm pretty sure they were thinking , "The shoes...oh yeah..they are black...and I guess maybe they should be brown, but I would have never noticed until she said that."

You have to know how much I love Stephanie. She is like another sister to me. I missed her when she was gone on maternity leave even if she is a Virgo. One of my favorite things I have said to her since her return is "Steph...I miss missing you." I say that when she is extra Virgo-like. O.K. on to example #3.

Example#3- I was going to just type this in the last paragraph to bother Stephanie. She would not have liked me to stray from my format, but even some of her Virgo qualities have rubbed off on me, and I could not bring myself to do it. So here I type it. The cookie. You have seen in a previous blog a cookie that resembles a penis. I showed this penis to everyone including Stephanie. The first time I showed it to her she snickered and had a little chuckle, but she also had some extra fun with this penis. I had put a cherry next to the penis. I thought it was funny and I admit a tad bit inappropriate, but Stephanie started to laugh, and said. "That cherry looks like a bum..." Fine...not so bad. Then she strategically placed the "bum" directly next to the "penis" and started to laugh. This is usually my job....to make the inappropriate even more inappropriate... This isn't all. The "bum" stayed next to the "penis" for over 24 hours. And I will tell you right now, the Stephanie I once knew would have laughed at it, and she might have placed the cherry there, but then it would have either been eaten, or thrown out...Instead she purchased some Glossette Peanuts and picked out any that looked like "bums" and placed them around the "penis" and the "cherry bum" and started quoting a commercial about a cream for dry skin.

Sorry Stephanie, but you are becoming MY mini-me. MUhahhahahahhahahahah...sigh...Mwahahahhahahahhahaha.... (Pinky finger on chin) Muhahahahhahahha. See you at work Stephanie..Don't forget your brown shoes!

Delicious Cock Soup

2007-12-06T21:14:00.000-05:00

Ok..so as far as my own recipes go, they are usually a "make once" type of deal. I usually never write down what I have put into them, and just kind of experiment with what I think will be good. Today's recipe...Cock Soup.

I already forget what I put in it..but I will say it is delicious...I do know it has Two turkey breasts in it which I boiled off the bone in the broth, orange juice, coconut cream (which I made into coconut milk with the hot broth) and some frozen mixed vegetables. I think I may add some Jamaican curry to it. Cock soup should be spicy.

I promise this culinary choice has nothing to do with those cookies, I had planned on making cock soup all week... Just a crazy co-incidence. :)

Indecently Delicious

2007-12-05T19:14:00.000-05:00

Written by Heather Joy Richards

You can imagine how touched I was to receive such a kind gift from a co-worker as a bag of homemade shortbread cookies. No one more then me appreciates such a delectable treat, but was the placement of the undeniably phallic cookie deliberate? Every other cookie was shaped as a star, or a heart, or a moon, or some other common cookie cutter shape...and then there were two or three cookies thrown in the mix that in my opinion..and the opinion of several other co-workers was shaped like a penis. I asked around, because I am the first to admit that I sometimes see things that others don't, but it was indeed not just I that recognized the shape as none other then the one eyed monster himself staring us right in the face. Now the co-worker that gave me the cookies is one of my favourite people. She is a German woman with no qualms about telling you exactly what she thinks, but what of this subtle gesture, this friendly little guy she threw in the bag of cookies? Here is some more background on this story. My co-worker also gave cookies to me to deliver to my dear friend Jason. His bag of cookies was notably different from mine, bearing no such indecently delicious cookie. I searched his cookie bag relentlessly to find even one that bore the resemblance of the male genitalia, but it was to no avail. He had no penis in his cookie bag, not even a small one, not even a remnant of a penis...no penis at all. His cookies were clearly and undoubtedly ordinary shaped cookies, that you could place on a platter at a wholesome Christmas gathering. Even stranger, there was a couple of cookies in his bag that were shooting stars, perfect shooting stars. The bottom part of the star that makes it appear to be shooting across the sky had a similar shape to the shaft of my penis cookies, but the top of it, was perfectly shaped as a star. In my bag, it was seemingly quite a different story. Every "shooting star" cookie in my bag was altered. I don't want to point fingers, but I have spent a lot of time with my cookie baking co-worker, and most of that time has been spent impersonating her German accent boldly to her face, and making reference to how she must be as a German lover. Could this be her brilliant attempt at subtlety? Could she be saying something about my behavior with this cookie? I picture sweet Iris in her kitchen, the oven preheated, the cookie dough rolled out. The shooting Star cookie cutter lay on the counter. She cuts a cookie. She laughs. "Dat Header is wery bad. I will teach her a lesson." She reshapes the top of the cookie into a perfect little penis. She laughs again.

When I asked Iris what cookie cutter she used to make these cookies she said "IT'S A PIGGY...IT'S A PIGGY...NO YOU A PIGGY!" I have to say she kind of looked guilty...but then again...if you turn your head the right way...and put your tongue in your cheek...I suppose it could be a piggy.

"She'd look good in a brown paper bag" --The Secret life of a Domestic Fraud

2007-12-05T12:51:00.000-05:00

Written by Heather Joy Richards

Paper bag Cocktail Dress Designed and made by Heather Richards, Modeled by Kaleyna Allen.

Dressed to kill she enters the grocery store with one thing on her mind, looking good and not having to work for it. She has never lifted a finger if she could avoid it, but she wanted all to believe that she does it all, and looks good doing it. She always makes her famous aunt Mildred's (twice removed) exquisite cheese ball (found in the grocers refrigerator... pre-made of course)and the guests are reeling over how she always gets it perfect every time. Don't discount her skill at finding the most convincingly home-made pre-made entrees. That is a talent in itself. Her next stop the bakery department. She pauses at the muffin tins and laughs, "won't be needing these." On Second thought she realizes, perhaps she should have a couple laying around for atmosphere. The all time favorite Chocolate cherry cheesecake that she displays on the same bright red platter every year to accentuate the brilliant red maraschino cherries that adorn the top of this crowd pleaser. No one suspects that they too could present this rich delight as their own. She rounds the corner to the freezer section...International favorites...It's always good to have dishes from other parts of the world so that you appear versatile and cultured. Her renowned Jamaican pastries are certainly the talk of the town. The recipe acquired on her latest trip to the sunny beaches of Jamaica is the envy of all the ladies in her quilting circle. She heads to the baking section. One must always look the part. She picks up her yearly supply of Robin Hood Flour...Not so she can whip up a batch of Homemade chocolate squares..Oh no..the chocolate squares she found in the neighboring county store work just fine...but so she can sprinkle a tiny bit of flour on her chin..and say.."Oh my...I guess I was just in such a whirl today baking that I missed a spot in my clean up...How silly of me." She Works her way up to the front of the store where the fresh cut flowers are found. She quickly ducks behind a basket of flowers. It's Betty her neighbor and the town gossip. She can not be seen with her cart full of her "family recipes." But what is this? It can not be...Betty's Apple Strudel..the one she brags about...IT IS...She doesn't make that recipe at all...Dressed to kill, she waits for Betty to disappear..concocting a plan to reveal her as a fraud, not acknowledging that she is equally as guilty if not more. She chooses a pot of Gerber daisies as a centre piece and heads for the checkout, carefully scoping out the aisles for her arch enemy. This party will be the talk of the town..."I don't know how she pulls it off" they will say..."And so lovely...where did she get that cocktail dress...Only she could pull it off," ... "She'd look good in a Brown Paper Bag"

Unwilling to Fall

2007-12-03T19:21:00.001-05:00

Written by Heather Joy Richards

The last leaf lay on the branch waiting to descend upon the earth and breathe the last breath of fall.
She had seen the spring of her life then it's summer and the autumn, now it was the winter and her time was near.
She was not ready to dry up and become part of the earth.
She was not ready to start the cycle again.
So there she lay softly on the branch of my tree.
Unwilling to fall.
I watched her for several days, wavering in the wind, hanging on to her home she had known all her life.
I sat and wondered if that would be me when I reach my final days.
Will I be ready to leave my world behind and start another cycle?
Or like the last leaf of fall, will I fear the winter of my life and hang on.
Unwilling to fall.

Imortality in Art

2007-12-01T19:29:00.000-05:00

Written by Heather Joy Richards

My Art

Flows through me,
Helps me forget,
Forces me to remember.

Carries me away,
Brings me closer,
Inspires me to dream.

Introduces strangers,
Souls visited,
life breathed into objects lifeless.

I want to feel the rush of creating,
That is why I create.
I want my subjects etched in time.

Their souls captured in print.
So when they are only memories,
People who never knew them will say, She was kind, or he was intense.

Sparkle in their eyes,
sadness behind them,
joy,
grief,
pain,
elation,
celebration,
anger,
surprise,
awe,
wonder,
first times,
last times,
weddings,
births,
funerals,
deaths.

Not for money, recognition, or fame, but to make immortal our souls.
That is why I photograph. That's why I draw. That's why I paint. That's why I create. Place light in dark places, and Darkness amongst the light. Art.

Time...

2007-10-21T20:53:00.000-05:00

I have not been able to shake a feeling lately that I need to be doing something creative. I've been on a quest for 30 years to figure out just what that thing is. I can't express how much my insides feel knotted and how I feel a sadness in the pit of my stomach when I go a length of time without creating anything. I think it is why I was put on this earth. I think people have different purposes. Mine is to create, whether it be a sound through music or a painting or as I have recently discovered in a photograph. I have finally found a realistic way to incorporate my creativity with the prospect of earning some kind of a living. Trust me when I say it is not about that. The reason I have decided that I want to make money doing this is because with every day I work at my giant box retail store I feel less and less human. I feel a sense that no matter how large the corporation I work for is, that it is closing in on me. I have to turn a blind eye to some of what they do within the closed doors of the corporation, and on a global sense. I watch the news, I read the stories about Factory working conditions in China and I feel saddened that I work for a company that despite their efforts to cover it up and their mass effort to appear to be like this giant charity giving to people in their communities I know deep within the core of this retail giant is a lust for money and economical power that will go to any lengths to keep costs down, productivity up, and the money flowing in their direction. I know I'm just working there to pay the bills, but lately it's been weighing heavily on me that I don't belong. I don't think of that as a bad thing, not belonging. It's not the first time I've felt out of place, but it is the first time I've felt slightly trapped. My dilemma: I have been there 10 years. I don't make a crap load of money or anything, but I have benefits, I think I have job security, but a few recent occurrences in the company have led me to question that as well, and even though I hate the place that I work, and corporation itself, I do love the people I work with. I have met some of my best friends there, and I have made lasting relationships. That being said, none of that will stop me from leaving when the time is right. But when is the time right? So that is why I have begun starting my work as a photographer. I realize that I will likely have to work a day job as well, but I need to get away from the day job I have now. I am loving photography. I feel like I can capture part of the soul in a picture even if the picture is not of a person. Sometimes a photo, much like a painting can give life to what seems lifeless. So this is my mania lately. I have an insane desire to create, coupled right now with a need to change my current means of financial income. So I've decided finally to use my creative skills to acquire some money. I've never done this before, I've always starved as an artist on the most primal level...I have worked at a job I don't particularly respect myself for, and in my spare time done what I love. Now is the time to prioritize. It may not be the time to quit my job, as I do have a family to consider, but at least if I am doing something I love for which I have found a sense of belonging.

Kittens at Two weeks old

2007-09-29T10:38:00.000-05:00

Our little kittens are two weeks old now and their tiny eyes have started to see the world around them. They haven't started roaming my house in a rampage of destruction yet, so they are still in my good books. You can't really stay mad at a kitten anyways because they are so darn cute, and most of the bad things they do are kind of funny. I'm not positive how many still need homes. I know one for sure is spoken for, but I am not sure which one yet because she has not seen them in person yet and is going to decide which one once she sees them. I took some pictures the other day when they were exactly two weeks old. They are developing their own personalities. It will be interesting to see how they are when they escape their little box. They will make great pets because they have become accustomed to my children handling them. Well see for yourself they are pretty cute.

2007-09-26T00:06:00.000-05:00

Today (well technically yesterday, seeing as it is now 1:09 am) my son turned ten. It truly hasn't hit me yet, but it will. I have had a child for 10 years and I haven't ruined him yet. He is a compassionate, smart, funny child. *** So...The power went out as I was trying to write this entry. So I can't really recall where my flow was going. But I'm still totally freaked out that my child has turned 10. I think about the fact that time has sped by and in that amount of time he will be 20. That's an adult...But I'm going to stop thinking about that and enjoy my wonderful 10 year old. Today his teacher called and said Jaris once again was selected as the "terrific kid" in his class. I am so proud of him I could burst. Happy Birthday Jaris...This is only the beginning of your successes.

Free to a Good Home

2007-09-16T22:17:00.000-05:00

Well the babies are here, and they are sweet as pie. It's easy to say that now because they are little, helpless, blind fluff balls. I may change my tune when they start running wild around my house. Actually I kind of liked having the kittens for the most part last time. They weren't too much trouble...They had their moments, but they were pretty good. This time we had 3 orange ones; one light orange,one bright orange and one dark orange, and one who dared to be different, that one is black and white. As I said before, I am not good at figuring out their sex. Cat butts all look the same to me. But I think I might have one figured out, he's got a larger set of what seem to be balls then the rest of them...for all I know it could be a vagina though, so don't quote me. We have named them just so we can identify them. The lightest orange one is named "Quiet." My daughter named that one, because it doesn't cry when she holds it, the bright orange one, who also has a very white face, is named Rascal. My son named that one because he thought it hissed at him once. The Darkest orange one is Peach Fuzz, I named that one...Just thought it was a cute name for an orange cat, and finally I named the black and white one Domino. **So, if you are wanting a little adorable pet, that is perfectly behaved and will love you forever, adopt an adorable kitten.

**I do not guarantee that your kitten(s) will be well behaved, nor can I guarantee they will love you...Cat's are funny that way...sorry.

International Cat of Mystery

2007-09-10T20:26:00.000-05:00

Well my blog reading friends it would appear as though my slutty little kitty is definitely knocked up again. That girl sure gets around. I don't mean to bad mouth her, because she is sitting right beside me now and if she wasn't morbidly obese I'm sure she'd give me the look of death for being so disrespectful to the mother to be...that is assuming she can read...which I doubt...but I'll know if she pisses in my rice crispies tomorrow or leaves me a present outside the litter box that she is not as dumb as I perceived. Actually she is pretty smart. On the day in question (meaning the day I suspect she was impregnated) it was told to me that she escaped through a screen window by inserting her devilish little claws into the screen dislodging it from it's rightful place and sneaking out into the great outdoors. Now this may not have been the day, but I'm pretty sure the escape got the adrenaline pumping...I mean what makes a person more aroused then an escape plan hatched and executed, that must be pretty exciting... I'm pretty sure that's why in movies girls sneak out of their bedroom windows to have sex with their boyfriends. I have to say though it would be nice if Delores, my darling little angelic kitty, would ask her man to pull out, or bring a little kitty condom with her on the prowl. Perhaps she could remember to take the pill everyday so these things won't happen. How many times must I have "the talk" with her? I know what you are thinking..."Get the damn thing fixed." Easier said than done, when your cat is the female version of James Bond, escaping out of windows. She caught me by surprise I do have to say. I know I should have taken her to be spayed as soon as the first litter of kittens were all on solid foods, but I was under the impression that I had to wait...but I have since read up on it...and this time...I'm going to outsmart my little international cat of mystery and get her fixed...Make no mistake about it, NO MORE ILLEGITIMATE KITTENS!

This Sisterhood is Deep

2007-08-14T20:36:00.000-05:00

This is my sister. She is so much more than a sister to me. She is also my best friend, although I have best friends in the "outside world", she is my insider best friend my closest ally. She was the person I leaned on most when my marriage dissolved. She truly gets me in a lot of ways. I realize that no one really gets me completely, I'm kind of complex, but so is she, so we kind of get each other. This sisterhood is deep. So I loved photographing my sister. She is beautiful inside and out, and I knew that would transmit through the lens.

Pirate Adventures...Proof that a girl can be the captain of a Pirate ship too!

2007-08-04T14:22:00.000-05:00

Last night before we had the official photo shoot for my basement project, Kaleyna and I (who I must mention don't get get out much) decided to make our night special. We kicked it off with dinner at Boston Pizza. We shared a huge plate of nachos, a small salad and a Cajun rice bowl. It was a lovely meal. We had a great time joking around with the waiter and one of the waitress' that I went to highschool with, reminiscing about old school hip hop, and 1980's nostalgia. The night got interesting when I ventured to the washroom and didn't notice that I had gone into the men's room until I glanced through the crack in the stall briefly and thought it odd that a woman was standing up to go pee...Yes it took me a minute, give me a break here. I quickly made my exit before anyone saw me, but I could not escape the uncontrollable laughter of Kaleyna sitting at the table watching me slide from one gender specifically labeled washroom (stick person with pants) to the other one (stick person with skirt.) In all fairness this is 2007, women wear pants and conversely men are also sometimes known to wear skirts...

Before dinner we had picked up a pirate's eye patch, and sword at the dollar store, because in all my wackiness, I figured it would be fun to force my friend to dress up like a pirate and take pictures of her at the pirate ship park. The pirate ship park is this fantastic play structure in our neighboring city of Belleville. It's a life sized pirate ship built in a park, the perfect place for a 30 year old woman and her almost 30 year old friend to go play pirates. I barely noticed the people pointing and laughing at us, and the bewildered looks on the children's faces, because we were having so much fun. I took a ton of pictures, but I can only post some of them at a time. However, you may see other pictures pop up on my blog if I happen to be writing about booty, or pirate's treasure (more likely it will be booty ;) )

So as two young mothers ventured out into the world, having been stuck in a world of Dora the explorer, princesses, Pokemon and Yugi-oh... Well it only just dawned on me now that we really didn't venture that far from our comfort zone playing pirates in a kid's park...Oh well we had fun doing it, maybe next time we will go to the Splash park and take pictures as mermaids, or go to chuckie cheese's where a kid can be a kid.

Kaleyna's Photo Shoot (Part Two)

2007-08-04T14:13:00.000-05:00

What can I say Kaleyna was a fantastic model.

Kaleyna's Photo Shoot

2007-08-04T14:02:00.000-05:00

Well even with some major technical difficulties with my camera....(which I'm sad about, I think I need a new one :( ) I still managed to get quite a few keepers for my basement renovation project. I'm redecorating with a 1930's sort of lounge theme. This is my friend Kaleyna in the pictures. I tried hard to not make her look like Audrey Hepburn, because my sister wants to do the Audrey thing with her pictures, but there was an unavoidable likeness to Audrey in Kaleyna's photos.

Soft Focus

2007-08-01T23:09:00.000-05:00

I've been doing a lot of photography lately. I am starting to experiment with some little techniques that I've seen in photos in the 1920's and 1930's. These are my practice pictures. I want to take some pictures of my friends using this technique for a project I want to do...anyways...here they are.

A Canadian Treasure

2007-08-01T18:27:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks have passed since I returned from my latest trip to Prince Edward Island. I was experiencing some technical difficulties and was having trouble uploading the pictures from my camera. So now I have pictures and stories to tell.

Prince Edward Island. Probably one of the most beautiful places you can imagine. Lupins growing tall and wild in the ditches, bright red sands, and Ocean breezes blowing through my hair; I still feel like an islander when I visit, even though I was just an infant when we left. The Island is rich with history and although some of the places have become more for tourists, most of the island is still a beautiful postcard unblemished by the commercial world.

In Prince Edward Island they still have the glass bottles of pop like I remember as a child. The pop tastes better, and stays cold longer in these bottles, and it doesn't get flat quickly like in the plastic bottles. Wal-Mart is trying to get the cans in their stores which caused me a moment of angst, but it was short lived because as soon as I walked out and breathed the ocean air, and saw the heron's wading in the little marshes that line the red roads of PEI, I soon forgot that stressed out feeling, that Wal-Mart created.

We visited some tourist areas, such as Spinicker's Landing, in Summerside, the Sandspit, at Cavendish, Woodleigh replicas, and Victoria by the Sea, but my favorite times were at the cottage, watching the kids run freely by the ocean, collecting sea shells, and making friends with dead crabs, and my morning jog ocean side when the tide was just going out. I enjoyed the quality time with my parents, doing puzzles and singing Cole Porter songs with my dad. The drive was long but well worth it, and I will never forget showing Peryn Prince Edward Island for the first time, or seeing Jaris find the clam when we dug in the spitting sand.

Prince Edward Island is a Canadian treasure and I know I will be back to her beautiful shores again smelling the sea air, and wading in her salty waters once again.

My Daughter

2007-07-20T20:03:00.000-05:00

My Daughter turned five this week and I have been wondering where the years went. It seems like yesterday when I looked at her for the first time, her tiny fingers curled into a fist and her chubby little pinkish newborn legs making me fall in love with her immediately. I can recall getting up and breastfeeding her in the wee hours of morning trying to stay awake, watching Conan O'Brien, and looking at her breathing as I soothed her back to sleep. She has a captivating beauty, and spunk beyond belief. She is going to be a "take no nonsense" woman someday, but let's not rush that.

Today she told me she was "All grown up." I marveled at the fact that someday that would be true, and that she would no longer rely on me as much. She won't ask me to come tuck her in 20 times in a half hour, she won't ask me to snuggle up with her on the couch while she watches a movie.

I want to cherish every moment with my children. Sometimes I get caught up in the moment and lose my patience. I forget how precious these days are when your child still thinks you can solve all their problems and tells you about all of them. I get tired and I take for granted that my children won't always be small, and they won't always need you so much. I love them more then anything and hope so much that they will grow up to be happy fairly well rounded adults, and that they will say, "For the most part my childhood was great, and my mother tried really hard to give us everything we needed, and just enough of what we wanted." High hopes for a single mother, but I put every fiber of my being into making it so.

Almost ten years made worthwhile by one little Crumpled up Zero

2007-06-21T15:28:00.000-05:00

Ahhh the Retail Gods are smiling down on me. At my work there is a slogan written on our wall in big bold letters saying, "100% Satisfaction Guaranteed." This statement cannot possibly be true, because, never are we as humans fully satisfied. It's not in our nature. And supposing we could be satisfied, I highly doubt that it would be at a Retail store that you would find that kind of satisfaction, but my workplace guaranteed it...until yesterday. It occurred to me and a couple of my co-workers that a reasonable amount of satisfaction would be around 10%. I mean I think I can provide a customer with 10% satisfaction. That seems achievable. It was almost a miracle...or at least that is what we are going to call it at this time, when the second Zero, in our 100% satisfaction guaranteed sign up and "fell off" the wall. "10% satisfaction guaranteed." I can't wait for the inevitable to happen...the irate customer enters the store already angry because he can be...he is the customer...and that makes him special. He starts to yell at me..."BLAH BLAH BLAH...I'm not happy...BLAH BLAH BLAH..." I look at his dog chewed glasses and lenses with tire marks on them and explain that they are not covered by our warranty.....He slowly turns around...eyes searing with intensity...His finger pointing with adversity...He turns to the sign that has supported his horrendous behavior so reliably when he has complained in the past..and he knows where this sign is by some weird magnetic force...He goes to recite the words on the wall...He pauses...He's speechless...I say, "Have a nice day sir...Keep your dog away from your glasses next time."

I know I won't get away with anything like that the customers will just find another sign somewhere in the building so they can have their little hissy fit and get their way..but it gives me great joy to look up at that sign, and consider the possibilities...10% a perfectly reasonable amount of satisfaction...

Boston...to be continued...

2007-06-11T21:15:00.001-05:00

Walking the narrow streets of Boston was a feast for my senses. My eyes danced from building to building, as I marveled at the history that was contained in the walls of the beautifully maintained architecture. The aroma of the fresh sea air was even evident in the densely populated areas of the city, and although you could still smell the street hotdogs cooking, and cigarette smoke as you walked by a group of smokers, the ocean made the city air that much more refreshing. I tasted the famous New England Clam Chowder at the Quincy Market, which was definitely a treat for my taste buds. A well connected city, it was easy to walk or hop on "the T" (Subway) to the next destination. I guess one thing I love about cities, is that I get lost in the moment. I can walk for hours, and until I am relaxing after the day is done, I don't even notice my aching feet. The first day we were there we just wandered the downtown theatre district, from Boylston St. down Washington, around Tremont St. That night we went to watch a movie, and almost missed the last train back to our Hostel. The Hostel was right around the corner from historic Fenway Park, where the Red Sox Play their home games. The first two nights we were there the Sox were playing and the streets were packed with eager fans, filled with excitement. There were more people then cars, and the people literally filled the streets. Monday I spent a little more time downtown, and checked out a few places near the hostel but didn't venture too far. Tuesday I hopped on the T, and went to Copley Square. I visited the Boston Public Library another historic building in Boston. From across the street I noticed a building of such beautiful antiquity that I had goosebumps. Certain things in this world always captivate me, one of those things would definitely be history and places where history is embedded in it's very structure, sort of frozen in time. Everything else around it has proceeded into the future, but these few old things have resisted this world of the future. Trinity Church is one of these places. I walked up to the church and had that sense of not being alone. This is a sense I get when I visit old places. I don't know if it's ghosts, or just the strong history of these places living and breathing in every stone, and statue. The outside of the building stands out because there are statues of the saints on the side of the building. A pigeon landed on the hand of St. Peter and I snapped a picture. It was interesting to see the artwork that this architect put into every single aspect of this building. I walked all around the building. The courtyard damp with rain, and a lone statue standing amongst the flowers in the garden. The staircase leading up to a red door that has been etched with graffiti as if to remind you that you are not back in time. I met up with a New Yorker at the church who told me that you could tour the inside of the church as well, so I walked up to the front door. I went downstairs first to pick up my little visitors guide, and then I entered the sanctuary. I could feel that stirring feeling again, like there were old souls lingering there. The stained glass windows were some of the most beautiful I have seen. It was as if the characters of the bible had come alive in them. There were murals painted so beautifully it almost moved me to tears, because it was truly art of the most passionate in nature. I was incredibly moved by all the artwork, from the statues engraved into the very walls of the church, to the carved pews and wooden glory all around me. It was truly magnificent. I happened upon this church by accident and thank heaven I did, and if you ever go to Boston, hop on the T, and get off at Copley Square, glance across the street and be sure to experience this church where every brick and stone, wooden plank, and piece of glass was meticulously created as a piece of artwork to be enjoyed for centuries to come.

Look Out Boston, Here I come!!

2007-05-31T09:26:00.000-05:00

Well My bags are packed and I'm ready to go to Boston Massachusetts. I am pretty close to an airplane virgin. I have only flown once when I was a kid, and oncein this what we call the "Post 9/11 era." It's not so easy to pack now that you have to make sure all sharp objects and liquids are checked with your luggage. Finding a spot for my machete in my suitcase is not an easy task.

I'm so excited though, I've never been to Boston, and from what I've read and heard it looks like a great city, with a mixture of old and new buildings, and my most favorite part...it is right on the ocean! I happen to love the ocean, the smell of the salty air, and the ocean breezes. I was born in Prince Edward Island, and I guess that feeling of nostalgia never leaves you. I feel pretty lucky actually, because I will be going to PEI at the end of June as well, so I will breathe ocean air twice this month.

So when I come back from Boston, I will have a lot more to write about, and I will definitely have tons of pictures, I'll have a drink for you at the Cheers Bar, and say hi to Norm and Cliff for you.

Out of Line

2007-05-14T17:59:00.000-05:00

I know I know, I talk a lot about my work, but let's face it...I spend a lot of time there. Today I was walking to the front of the store, and I noticed a child standing dangerously in the cart. His mother was nowhere to be found and he could very well have fallen out. I walked up to the cart, and held on to it and calmly told him to please sit down, because he could fall. He looked at me for a second and continued to stand. I again told him he needed to sit down and that it was dangerous to stand in the cart. He asked "Why?" and I restated that he could fall and hurt himself really bad. He continued to stand. A moment later the store manager walked by and firmly told the boy to sit down. He still would not sit. The manager asked the boy where his mother was, and that he had to sit down, this time his voice very firm. The boys mother came from around the corner and the boy finally sat down.

After this incident, the store manager told me that I needed to be more firm with the child and to do whatever was necessary to get the child to sit. This was interesting, considering if the tables were turned and I did get firm and tell the child to sit down in the same tone as the manager, I have no doubt in my mind that the mother would have complained about me using a harsh tone with her child. I can hear it now "That girl yelled at my child, she has no place!" I don't care what the manager thinks I should do, I've been in retail long enough to know that I as the employee of a giant retail chain will be the one gets screwed no matter what I do. The manager asked me two questions...1) What if it was your child? I answered, "If it was my child they wouldn't be left alone in a cart while I picked out a t-shirt around the corner out of view, and secondly my children have respect for authority and if a stranger came up and told them to sit down, I'm almost 100% positive they would do it, without questioning"...so he replied with the second question, "O.K then what if the child fell out of the cart? You would never forgive yourself for not doing anything about it." I answered..."First of all I did DO something, I told the child to sit down, and secondly, I would never blame myself for his mother's lack of parenting skills. He did not do what he was told, it would be awful if he fell, but I did try to stop him. Besides that I was standing right next to him holding the cart...If he fell, I'd catch him."

I was quite bothered by his accusing tones...Trying to make me feel like I failed that child. How dare he try to make me feel like if that child had fallen it would have been my fault? It's a good thing I have an answer for everything and was able to counter everything he said...I'm probably looking for trouble, but I feel like telling the store manager that he was out of line for making me feel that way. Maybe I should yell at him...probably not...or maybe next time I see a child standing in a cart, I should yell loudly at them, and see what happens. When I get in trouble, I'll just remind the store manager of this particular incident and how he told me to handle it. Obviously I can't yell at a child and get away with it, because I'm not a store manager. He can, because he is...She will be complaining to him if I yell at her child. I didn't hear him telling the mother that she shouldn't leave her child unattended. It's my opinion that if anyone needed yelling at it was the mother...I should ask him if I can yell at the mother instead of the child? She is the one at fault is she not? Just another day in the life of a small fry amongst the retail big potatoes.

I've been trying to figure out how to put this on here since April...I'm officially a geek now..YAY!

2007-05-11T13:21:00.000-05:00

Pack Light

2007-05-10T19:49:00.000-05:00

My best male friend is moving away. It hit me today that I won't see him at work anymore. It's not the first time he's moved away, but this time he is starting a whole new life. He and I have worked for the same company for about 10 years, and for a large part of that we worked either side by side, or at least in the same building. Our laughs resounded throughout the walls of the building and I will probably still hear echoes of the memory of our laughter. I admit I will miss him. I do realize that I will see him often, as he is only going to be an hour and a half away, and in a city that I frequent often, and I will still be able to chat with him on msn messenger, but somehow despite the modern conveniences and the fact that he isn't going to be that far away, there is something about newness, something about distance that changes people. I know we will always be best friends, but we will both change, and without each other noticing. We will meet up down the road and say wow, "she looks different" or "he's starting to look like his cat". I'm not saying we will completely change, but we will change. Just the fact that he is going to be in a different city will change him, because every city has a different vibe, a pulse that radiates through her, and finds it's way into the hearts of her residents. This move is good for him. He will be with the one he loves, and the city that he is moving to is one that he has always dreamed of living in, with new opportunities and a new life. I am very happy for him, but he will be missed. This is dedicated to my best (male) friend. I know I was supposed to write about yesterday when I was trying to kick your ass in my ridiculously impractical shoes, and how I lost my footing on the side of the shoe, and in front of about 20 hungry McDonald's Patrons I fell to the floor ever so gracefully trying to avoid this disaster....but it only makes me miss you more...One last thing if you ever mention this blog and how I said I would miss you to anyone, or so much as smirk at me tomorrow, I will be forced to kick your ass again, and rest assured this time, I won't miss.

I'm not going to say goodbye either...so don't expect a mushy hug and if I cry tomorrow I will hurt you...so I'll see you around.

Which Brings Me to Today...

2007-04-18T09:37:00.000-05:00

About a year ago when my life changed drastically in a blink of an eye, my daughter had a very traumatic experience for which she will wear the scar for the rest of her life. Like every working day my ex dropped my daughter off at daycare and headed to work. I was already at work because I was working the early shift. While at daycare she was feeding their dog a treat and the dog turned on her biting her beautiful face, just missing her eye and cutting her lip in two right up to the base of her nose. I received a call from the hospital at around 11 am and they told me to sit down. I knew right away it was one of my kids, but a million thoughts ran through my mind. The nurse proceeded to tell me that my daughter had been bitten by the sitter's dog. I asked if it was repairable and she said "We aren't sure." I broke down in tears. My daughter was blessed with great beauty, light brown skin, sparkling green eyes and curls that make her look like an angel. Although I was relieved that she was alive, I knew that if they could not fix her face her life as she knew it would cease to exist, as like all other little girls she placed a lot of importance on looking like a princess and feeling pretty. I had always tried to stress how that was not important, but little girls see the world around them and notice how much importance is placed on how they look. The nurse told me that my ex would be coming with my daughter to pick me up and warned me that my daughter's face might be upsetting. We were to drive to Kingston to speak to a plastic surgeon there. It seemed like hours before they came to get me, but it was probably more like minutes. They had bandaged my daughter's face so well that I couldn't tell how bad it was.

We arrived in Kingston and checked in at the emergency department. We were scheduled to see a specific doctor, but we still had to wait for several hours. My daughter was bright and beautiful as usual. We read and coloured and she tried to talk. She was hard to understand, but she kept trying to tell us that the doggy didn't mean to hurt her. It touched my heart to see that even through all her pain she could find love for the animal that bit her. My daughter showed herself to be very strong in the face of difficult times. I was so proud of her.

When they removed the bandage and I saw for the first time the face of my daughter I tried to hold back the tears, but they streamed down my face uncontrollably. I knew I had to be strong for my daughter so they were silent tears. The doctor assessed the injuries and said he would likely be able to fix her up, but when I saw her face I feared for the worst and hoped for the best.

It would be a couple of hours before she would be having the surgery. It was one of the longest days of my life.

When they wheeled her away to the operating room she waved like a queen to the nurses and doctors and they couldn't believe what a sweet girl she was. Her surgery was quite quick but it took a long time for the doctor to come to us with a report.

The doctor told us the surgery went well and that he anticipated that she would do well. I breathed a sigh of relief, but I still was afraid that she would have terrible scars.

We stayed another night in the hospital and then we were sent home. We were to try to keep her out of the sun as much as possible and put vitamin E and Polysporin on it. We did our best even though it was Spring, and Summer was fast approaching.

She healed amazingly well with very few scars, but may have to have an additional surgery to repair a small flaw which is not too noticeable, which brings me to today. It is the day of the follow-up appointment. Hopefully all will go well and we can put this whole thing behind us having learned from it, and become stronger people.

I've learned that difficult times and trials make up our character and my daughter will be a better person for having experienced this, and so will I.

Who is Charlie?

2007-04-03T21:02:00.000-05:00

It was April fools Day and I had decided to soak in a warm bath and relax. I slowly lowered myself into the almost unbearably hot water and opened my new book looking forward to reading the first pages. Just as the numbness was beginning to subside from my ass, as for some reason I enjoy my bath to be unnaturally hot, the phone rang. Luckily I have learned to take the phone with me when I have a bath and I answered it quickly. The voice on the other end was unfamiliar. It was an elderly woman with a quivering shrill sounding voice and a British accent.

"Hello, is Charlie there please?" she enquired.
"No, I'm afraid you have the wrong number." I answered.
"Well can you tell him to call me when he is free." She unwittingly added.
"I'm afraid there is a misunderstanding, you have the wrong number..." I tried to reiterate.
"Wrong number?" she questioned, "Oh alright then dear," she continued, seemingly comprehending my words, "Well if you could tell him to call Mabel, I would appreciate it."

I again tried to help Mabel understand. "Charlie doesn't live here, you must have the wrong number." I spoke clearly and enunciated every syllable.
"Does he have company?" Mabel continued, "Because I would surely be grateful if you would tell him I am looking for him. When he is free it would be lovely if he would call me."

I relented, waiting for a chuckle or a hint of familiarity in the voice, as surely to goodness this could not be real. Someone had concocted a rather clever April Fool's joke, and I was indubitably the victim. I paused....Still no sign of the joke concluding. I finally replied, "Mabel, I'll let Charlie know you called, and as soon as he's in I'll have him phone you."

So was it a joke? Well traditionally the joke ends eventually with an utterance of "April Fools!!" at the end, and no such words were ever said. Perhaps some of my friends are still laughing at this joke, as I am notorious for playing these same type of hi jinx on my friends, and it could be that whoever it was, is reading this very same sentence that I am typing right now and waiting for this very moment to reply with a comment saying "April Fools!" But I think Mabel was a real person, confused and unaware that her past had gotten away from her. Who was Charlie? A long lost love? A family member? A friend? I hope she finds him, whoever he is.

Ok...you got me!!

2007-04-01T15:02:00.000-05:00

2007-04-01T13:35:00.000-05:00

It's funny to really see how well your friends know you. I am not an easy person to surprise, because I am always pulling fast ones on everyone else so I am especially suspicious. This coupled with the fact that I pay far too much attention to the actions of those I love... but lately I have been a little distracted so the timing was perfect.

It all started a few weeks ago when my sister and best male friend decided to plan something for my 30th birthday.. They sent out invitations via email and planned meticulously in order to keep it a surprise. This is not easy since my best female friend can't keep a surprise a secret to save her life and usually ends up slipping....She just avoided me for three weeks, which I didn't really question because we don't always call each other or get together regularly and we have an understanding. A few of my work friends were also invited, and I am quite surprised that they were able to keep me out of the loop because the thing with me is I always can tell when someone is up to something...mostly because I usually am...but either I wasn't paying close enough attention or they have really good poker faces.

So fast forward to last week when my best male friend asked me to go shopping on Saturday and had even gone so far as to plan our dinner at Burger king....This should have been a dead give away really because he never really plans that far in advanced, but I didn't clue into that either. So the plan was set into motion. My friend and I went shopping in the afternoon and to burger king for supper, he did try to drag out the day which I thought was weird because my children were becoming quite unruly, but I just figured he missed spending time with me (but seriously)... We arrived at my house around 7 and I saw that my recycle and garbage had been taken out and some packages from cleaning supplies that I hadn't opened were in the recycle bins. I said aloud "that is weird, someone has been here..." I thought for a minute...."My mom must have dropped off my new vacuum, and did some tidying while she was there." This is probably where my friend breathed a sigh of relief because I didn't figure it out.

I walked in the door and my friends shouted "SURPRISE" and let me tell you..I was surprised. It was cool to see friends who had travelled from Toronto, my sister from Peterborough, my boss and close friend, my two best friends and a few very special friends from work. It was just a perfect mingling of friends and the ones who couldn't make it were there in spirit. I pumped the party with some tunes and they had a table full of delicious food so as far as I'm concerned that is all that is needed for a good party. But of course my friends who know me well, knew that the perfect party for me includes a karaoke machine, and even better still a paper mache Dora the Explorer with a death wish makes it even more of a celebration. So we strung Dora up to a broomstick and my male best friend held her up cowering in fear as I was blindfolded and with great conviction I declared "Hasta la vista Dora!!!" Beating Dora to a pulp until all that was left of her was her decapitated head. Candy poured onto the floor and I declared victory over that little kid with the talking backpack, hoping Boots was next, because I would really like to give him a couple of whacks too. So after my killing of every one's favorite little explorer it was time for the gifts. My friends again proved how well they know me as each gift was very well thought out and I loved all of them. After the gifts we plugged in the karaoke machine, and for some reason even though it was my birthday, I ended up not only the first on the microphone, but I had to sing every song, not because none of my friends can sing, but because they are all a bunch of chickens. I did manage to get some of them to sing with me so it was cool. We sang all night and I gave it all I had. I am after all the reigning queen of karaoke undisputed hands down, and if anyone wishes to dispute this BRING IT ON!!!

Everyone had a great time and it was the best surprise, I couldn't have felt more lucky to have great friends then last night. Some of us enjoyed a few more beverages then others....but it was all in good company and great fun. And those people will be pleased to see their pictures on this blog in all their drunken glory.

I do want to thank all my friends though. I'm going to be thirty and I am so blessed I have 2 beautiful children, great friends a roof over my head and I have become an independent woman who knows her mind, and has all that she could possibly need or want, but still has goals and dreams. I think thirty is going to be fantastic, I look forward to seeing what the future holds for me. There is so much to look forward to in my life right now. I've been able to meet some really amazing people in my life and I know I am lucky to have them. I have always said that with friends it's quality not quantity, and that is so true...I didn't have hundreds of people celebrating my birthday with me, but I had 10 of the coolest people you could ever know at my party and I knew each of them well and they knew me. We had stories and memories...there were people I'd known my whole life and some that I had only known for a few years. There were a few people who couldn't make it or that my friends wouldn't have known to invite, but all in all it was the perfect gathering of friends, and I will remember it forever...mostly because my friends are a little snap happy with the cameras...and there are some pretty frightening videos floating around which will likely be used against me at some point in the future.

Peace out twenties...Onward and upward to my thirties, as I'm sure it will be a wild ride full of new challenges and adventures and new memories yet to be made.

Purrrrfect

2007-03-27T18:02:00.000-05:00

Well the little darlings are almost 3 weeks old, my how time flies. It seems like only yesterday that they entered this world. They are quite adorable really. Their eyes have opened and I can see them attempting to become more mobile, at which time they will likely be cursed in this blog for climbing my curtains and scratching my furniture. I should mention that the little sweethearts hate me. It might sound crazy but they do. My kids can manhandle, pick up and pet them and they purr and never cry, but all I have to do is look in their general direction and they start to cry. I'm starting to get a complex, what kind of evil must exist in a person's soul for tiny kittens to hate them....hmmm.

I must say though, I'm a little upset with one of the orange kittens, we'll call him/her Garfield Jr. I noticed that his/her I'm still not sure if they have twigs and berries or birds...I guess I haven't looked at enough cat vaginas to determine that yet...anyway I noticed it's eyes weren't open and all the other kitten's were, and upon further inspection it appeared as though there was puss coming out of it's eyes...I hope no one is eating...anyway, I googled eye infections in cats and found out that cat's can get pink eye. I debated for about a millisecond whether I should take the little sweetheart to the vet, but I realized that I was unwilling to part with the amount of money that it was likely to cost to find out that it was indeed exactly what I thought it was. So I decided to treat the kitty for conjunctivitis using polysporin ointment and cleaning the eyes frequently with a clean cloth. I'm quite proud of myself as this has worked and it's eyes seem much better. The problem is that even though I nursed the little thing back to health it still hates me. Oh well kittens hate me...what's the big deal?

Well they seem to be happy when I'm not around anyway, and maybe they just know that I'm counting the days until they are gone. They are growing quite rapidly and before I know it they will be out of the house and all grown up. I pretty much think Delores will be relieved to have her freedom again when they are gone....little does she know that she won't be able to enjoy all her freedoms if you know what I mean, because as soon as those babies are gone...she's going to visit the doctor for a little operation.

Small But Mighty

2007-03-26T17:51:00.000-05:00

I won't allow dust to settle upon my body,
Life is an hourglass with unknown sands.
I breathe life into my artwork and my writing.
I make these things with my own hands.
These things along with my flesh and blood
are the things that legacies are made of.

I can't be a gravestone empty of words,
Devoid of soul, cold and voiceless,
I do feel the pulse of this great earth,
driving me forward I see my worth.
Although at times I'm small like a grain of sand,
sometimes I feel like a mighty wave against the shore.

Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers....CHILL!!!

2007-03-20T18:26:00.000-05:00

I've noticed that we have bred a society of needy, demanding retail nightmares, that will stop at nothing to get their way in a store. Perhaps the mentality that the customer is always right has seeped so deeply into their brains that they have forgotten that it is real people they are dealing with. It would seem that they think we that toil in the corridors of the retail chains in our blue vests or white lab coats are all programmed robots, made to serve the morons of society. Monday I had to deal with just one of the many morons that shop at the retail chain. This particular moron decided that despite our best efforts to properly inform him of what he needed to do in order to pick up his glasses, he would come and get them when he darn-well pleased, because he "was paying for them, and therefore they are" his. Apparently as a retail customer you are allowed to act like a 2 year old to get your way. Unfortunately he did not get his way, because I have the fortunate position of being in a place in retail where there are actually rules with proper legislation and no matter how much the customer whines or lays on the floor kicking and screaming, or in his case...swearing and trying to pick up my computer terminal and throw it, they still aren't leaving with their glasses unless the optician is there to give them to them...AHHHH THE POWER....

But it did get me to thinking about the monsters these retail stores create by allowing the customer to feel like they are all-knowing, omnipresent gods with powers beyond their wildest dreams..."You mean I can buy a barbeque in the spring, use it all summer, and return it in the fall, and as long as I yell at the cashier, they will let me do it....WOW!!!" or "I only wore these underwear once...I have my receipt...I'm going to return them..forget about washing them"

I'm sick of them really, but tomorrow is another day of 100% satisfaction guaranteed, customer is number one bullcrap, so back to the retail giant I go for another day of spoiled 3 year olds let loose to shop to their hearts content.

Have I been Transported to an Episode of the Office?

2007-03-13T22:11:00.000-05:00

Today I had a meeting for work in Kingston. It's "The" meeting of the year for the optical I work for, and it is the first one I've ever attended. I will say it was pretty informative, and our store was given highest praises, but I wonder if people realize that these meetings could be cut in half if people would just A) not ask the same questions over and over, and B) think "Is that a stupid comment?", or "Does saying this really contribute anything worthwhile to this meeting" I mean I know they say "There are no stupid questions" but I BEG to differ. There ARE stupid questions. I think it's much nicer to say there are stupid questions then to say there are stupid people...but there are stupid people too. Yes, I will make the bold statement, that there are stupid questions and stupid people. I enjoyed the meeting in that the food was really good, and our optical, and the company as a whole had a really good year. I will be able to go back to my store and report with excellent standings, and give them the short version of the meeting minus the lame ass questions. I guess I'm just tired too, it was a long day, as I had to leave at 6:30 this morning to get to Kingston on time, and I didn't get home until 7:30 this evening, and I guess by the end of the meeting I was kind of hoping everyone else would be on the same page as me "Get me the blankity blank out of here."

GARFIELD!!!!

2007-03-11T19:56:00.000-05:00

Well...The little illegitimate babies have arrived. We still don't know who the father is, but that orange cat that's been hanging around is looking awfully suspicious. Two of her kittens are orange so that makes him the prime suspect. I'm not saying it couldn't be that grey one, but I'd put money on Garfield that is for sure.

Delores had been acting strangely this morning burrowing under my blankets in my bed. My first thought was, "I know that hooch isn't thinking about having those babies in my bed!" and my second thought was "I know that hooch isn't thinking about having those babies in my bed!"

Luckily when I got out of bed, so did she. Apparently she had wandered into my linen closet, at which time my young daughter of only four, decided that Delores "needed some privacy" and closed the door. At around 10 am I heard the distinct sound of a newborn kitting mewing, and could not locate the whereabouts of the sound. I saw the linen closet door was closed, but the sound was getting louder as I approached. I opened the door and there before me was a little orange kitten....First thought "I'm going to find Garfield and cut off his jewels..." My son was ecstatic, he waited to see if she would have another and a few moments later she did. This one was dark grey with orange gloves and boots, and white on it's face and back. This one knew how to accessorise. He called the first one Tiger, and the second one survivor, because at first we thought it was dead, but then it started to move. Her third kitten which I thought was her last came about an hour later, it too was orange....hmmm....GARFIELD!!! Hours passed and Delores had some visitors, and well-wishers, things settled down. I was kind of relieved because I had 2 potential homes, so that only left me with one to get rid of...err find a good home for...but then out of no-where, 6 hours later she had another. I'm still not certain she's done, but she has emerged from the linen closet and is acting like her old self, so I think the grand total is four. Number four is white with a black patch on it's head and back down it's tail, with flecks of orange and white throughout. Likely a female, because I believe most tri-colour cats are.

So now Delores is a mom, and I assure you it will be the last time, because as soon as those kittens are weaned, I'm getting her blankity blank fixed!

Delores....You little tramp!

2007-02-21T16:22:00.000-05:00

Yes, my cat can't keep the penny between her knees. She's gone and gotten herself knocked up by some nameless neighborhood cat. I guess all my "sex talks" went in one ear and out the other with her... I mean she seemed to be listening when I told her to wait until she found that special someone, and to use protection, but apparently she wasn't. She doesn't even know who the daddy is, I asked her and she just kept licking herself and ignoring me...I think that meant, "could be any unneutered male cat in the neighborhood." I fully intended on keeping her indoors at least until she was spayed, but my ex-husband had a different idea, and once she got a taste for the outdoors, there was no stopping her. So I guess I'm going to be a grandparent earlier then expected. If she thinks I'm going to raise her babies while she goes out and sleeps around some more she is sadly mistaken...Sadly mistaken...She's decided to put them up for adoption anyway, she's not ready to be a mama...We'll keep them for a bit so she might see that it is fun to make the babies, but they are demanding little creatures with an incessant appetite, and a heck of a lot of energy...So If anyone out there wants to adopt an adorable kitten, keep me posted...I will post pictures of the little sweety-pies once they are born...and perhaps their little irresistible faces will melt your heart...but word to the wise...don't let them outside because they don't know how to say no...

Lost Inspiration

2007-02-18T21:04:00.000-05:00

*I wrote this poem a long time ago...but once in a while I still feel this way...

Just can’t seem to find inspiration,
Just can’t seem to feel the anticipation.
I can’t seem to pull it out of my deepest core.
the desire is there, but nothing more,
It’s not that there’s no passion,
because it hurts so bad,
It’s just that I can’t express it,
and it makes me mad.

Time like a gust of wind swept in,
twirled me around and made me spin,
Now I feel dizzy and without direction,
Like I've lost my vision and there’s no correction.
I know it’s hard to envision,
I used to have little inhibition.
I’d pick up a pencil and start to write,
or I’d draw or paint and stay up all night.

Lost in a crazy “real life” world,
Feeling partly too mature, and partly “little girl”,
I just want to scream “LET ME OUT”
I just want to bang on the door and shout!
Open up and let this free,
It’s been trapped here too long and it’s swallowing me.
My music, writing and my art,
Trapped ever so deep within my heart.

Read this one.

2007-02-03T17:16:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you read a book and you can truly relate to the characters, and you are truly a part of the story. This was the case with Cane River by Lalita Tademy. The book takes place on a Creole Plantation on the banks of Cane River in Louisiana. It chronicles four generations of enslaved women from1834 to the early 1930's, delving into the issues that plagued their difficult lives. I was most fascinated by this book as a woman of mixed origin. Most of the women in this book were mixed race and I often have wondered what it would have been like for me had I been born a little over a century ago? Even though I was born to parents who chose each other without considering colour, what if I was born a product of the rape of a slave girl by her master, born into slavery? Through the pages of this book, I tried to imagine myself as the characters, fighting to educate their children so that they may be able to escape the bondage of slavery. I thought about how my daughter although born of one white parent and one mixed parent was born resembling her grandmother, and how happy I was that she was blessed with the features of her black heritage, but in period in which this book takes place, this may have caused a mother to fear that her child would not have a chance at a better life than she had. It was an eerie look into a parallel world. I felt so connected to these women. They were born over a century before me and therefore had to fight so that I could be born to two free parents and be educated, able to read, write, attend college and own my own home. These were luxuries these women did not have, but fought hard for future generations of people who they would never live to know. The book starts at a time when slavery was widespread in the United states and that almost all wealthy or middle class white landowners owned slaves. Slaves were like livestock, traded, sold, separated from their babies, husbands, mothers and sisters. Anyone can imagine how terrible that would be to be sold away from their children. It continues through the time when some black people had freedom, but not as we know it today, and into the civil war, right through to after the civil war when freedom was a word that only meant they weren't owned, but did not mean they were treated equally. I began to think about how really this was not all that long ago in history, and who was it that decided that human beings could be bought and sold, and treated like livestock? This book is a must read as far as I'm concerned, because I think anyone can imagine what it would be like to live as these women lived. It enters my mind many times when I think about my children, one born with blond hair and blue eyes, and one born light brown skin and wild curly hair with the features of her black ancestry. I felt even more proud of my heritage and my ancestors whose stories were not likely too different from these women, and I felt even more blessed to be born in a time when I can be free. This book was based on historical data that the author had gathered on her family, but she of course added some elements of artistic license as she did not have the entire history of her family as is the case with many of our families that came from slavery. It was a beautifully written account of this historical period that showed how women were strong in fighting for their children and that they really did play a part in the freedom that we know today.

Some Things are Better Left Unsaid

2007-01-30T21:23:00.000-05:00

I went on another date...Not so good. I think I'll leave it at that. Let's just say you can't tell if a person has a lisp over the phone...and don't worry, there is no way he will be able to read this blog, as I never give my blog http out to any potential suitors, and googling it, not likely, because I have tried and I can never find myself...So anyway, details...I'm going to leave some out, because I'm even embarrassed to write about them, but it was interesting to say the least. We decided to go bowling. This was actually a good plan, because we could keep the conversation to a minimum. Seeing as most of what he said got on my nerves this was a good thing. Also despite how much I couldn't wait for the date to be over, I do enjoy bowling so at least I tried to have fun.... and if he hadn't been trying to tell me how to bowl the whole time, and using it as an excuse to touch me...that theory might have worked. One other thing that bothered me (and this is just a personal thing) was that I would be bowling and I'd turn around to walk back to the seating area and he would be RIGHT behind me. He was a "sneaker upper." I can't stand these stealthy people that make no noise when walking and can be right on top of you before you know it. My nerves are not that good, and I almost backhanded him a couple of times. I am also known for my special granny bowling skills. I bowl like a four year old...I suppose most grannies don't bend over and roll the ball like me, but apparently that is the name the style has been given. So I was trying not to accentuate my booty while bowling, so it was throwing off my game. I think the booty pop actually improves my score in bowling...Did not know this until last night. The sneaking did not help my bowling skills either. I kept wondering if he was going to be violating my comfort zone when I turned around. I could not concentrate on the game. After 3 games of bowling in which he took the credit for every spare and/or strike I got, saying that those were the times I listened to his advice (not to mention the advice he was giving to the bowlers in the lane next to us) we decided to go eat. We went to Popeye's chicken....I didn't really care where we went at that point. I just needed to get out! So we walked a moderate distance up Yonge St. to Popeye's. I ordered the #1 combo...I contemplated ordering shrimp because he had told me he was deathly allergic to seafood, and I knew he definitely couldn't kiss me if I ordered it...but for some reason I didn't ....I should have.... trust me. I had 2 pieces of chicken, a biscuit, and macaroni and cheese (which I really wanted macaroni salad, but they did not have it). The mac and cheese was not that tasty, but the chicken was o.k, so I decided to put some ketchup on the mac and cheese. This looked to be a big turn off for him, as he wouldn't stop talking about how wrong it was that I put ketchup on it. Apparently to ruin such a delectable culinary delight as the Popeye's mac and cheese was diabolical. This made me happy, I thought, "I'm going to put more ketchup on." So I just covered it with Ketchup and ate it like it was the most delicious thing ever. I hoped this was enough of a turn off to keep him away... Unfortunately although he did not enjoy me ruining my mac and cheese with ketchup, it was not enough to deter him. I texted my friend to come get us, and he and his boyfriend showed up not too much later. After a short visit with my friends who are sadistic and evil, and found great amusement in my displeasure, we took him home. The nightmare is almost over but not quite. On the way to his place he was putting his arm around me...this is how I knew the ketchup issue was not enough to make him not like me. He turns around in the darkness of the backseat of my car and says "So should I kiss you now when no one is looking, or when we get back to my place?" - I wanted to say "How about when Hell freezes over?" but it was cold outside, and I was afraid that might actually happen and I will have agreed to something I would most definitely live to regret....so I decided to instead give false hope and say, "Maybe next time." Knowing full well there would be no next time. In my mind I was trying to think of how I would break it to him the next day, not when we should kiss...so we were definitely not on the same page. Anyway he seemed surprised that I would not kiss him, but that was fine with me. We dropped him off at his place, and when he got out the car I said..."THAT was PAINFUL!" My friends burst out laughing, and I have been ridiculed for the last 24 hours...Having to relive this date for the last 24 hours...Whatever though...I can handle it. Well today he called and I very carefully told him that I did not feel a connection, and that I could not agree to a second date...He took it pretty good. He told me that was not what he expected to hear, hung up on me, and then proceeded to change his msn tag line to something to the effect of "some women deserve to be treated badly." I want to say first of all, that I was really nice to him. HE had a really good time, and I WAS gentle when I A) declined the kiss, and B) told him I couldn't see him again. ALSO I think you aren't allowed to be bitter after one date...but oh well...He must have really thought we had something...I really do hope he finds someone who likes him just the way he is, I hope that for everyone...I am just not that girl. I like him as long as he's not talking and at least 3 metres away, and seeing as he can't seem to keep that distance...we have to end it.

Wait A Minute Mr. Postman!!

2007-01-28T20:31:00.000-05:00

O.K so now that I've learned to lock the doors, I now need to learn to close the drapes tight. Last week I was about to get into a nice warm bath and I remembered that I had not signed out of Messenger. I ran downstairs wearing only a bra and panties and went to sign off. My friend had just sent me an instant message, so I decided to take a minute and reply. Picture this: Heather sitting in front of her computer in her bra and panties, all alone, not a care in the world...and then she looks out her window and who could it be walking about 3 feet away looking in....That's right, the mailman! My doors were locked...but my drapes...open just enough. It's sad when you realize that your mailman has seen you half naked twice. Once wasn't enough, I had to drill my image into his head, so there is no mistaking the fact that I apparently walk around undressed way too much. This has been (or so I thought) a fairly safe practice..after all I am single and alone in my own home... I just didn't consider the fact that my computer is nestled right next to the window, and that sometimes the mailman cuts across the front yard. So maybe a better lesson would be not to strut around naked like I own the place, but I am kind of getting to like that freedom, so I will have to steer clear of windows. Lets review lessons learned 1) lock the doors (mailman may see you naked...2) close the drapes tight (mailman may see you naked) and 3) never look your mailman in the eye...this rule is specific to me, because...I broke rules one and two and my mailman has seen me naked....but I am hoping this will be the last blog about mishaps involving me and the mailman, because if it gets much worse I may have to change neighborhoods, or worse I may have to put some clothes on.

On to Plan B

2007-01-26T18:42:00.000-05:00

Well, I went on a couple of dates recently with a guy that seemed too good to be true...and he was. But most men are. Luckily we went out only twice, and even though I thought he seemed like a good catch, I got over him in about 10 minutes... So those of you who are worried about me, don't...lol. Lets discuss men shall we... They are supposed to be the strong, brave ones...but really they talk a lot of smack. For instance, this one was well aware that I had children and seemed to even admire me as a working mom that has been through some crap, but as with most men it takes them a bit (in this case less than a week) for the reality to set in. Our dates were extraordinary, chemistry right away. He was handsome, and sweet, and had a lot of qualities that I thought I would want in a man. He was quite involved in his church, and shared a lot of my interests like singing and music in general. I admit that at first I was upset. It ended rather strangely, first with a text message saying " We need to talk about something" and then with a late night email saying..."blah blah blah, I'm not ready for kids, and bye bye to this relationship...p.s don't call me, text me, or email me back, as I started to have major feelings for you...blah blah, and I don't want to have to deal with the feelings I started to have for you." Cute isn't it, how men don't have to deal with feelings, but we get the slaps in the proverbial face, the stings, and the bruises. But that is what makes us the stronger of the sexes, we deal with our emotions head on. I'm glad to have met him, despite this little mess because it made me realize I am truly ready for dating. That could have been a really big blow to my ego, but I made it through it with only 10 minutes of tears. I was actually proud of myself. I gave myself a pat on the back. Here is the interesting part. I don't chalk it up to being a bad experience. I really enjoyed the two dates we had. He bowed out in a very cowardly manner, kind of ruining it for himself if those "feelings" start to take over and he has second thoughts. I didn't listen to him, I wrote him an email, texted him and phoned him, I thought...if he truly did have feelings, he deserves to have to deal with them, but I'm by no means begging for him to come back, because I wouldn't trade my kids for the world, and if that is his problem than on to Plan B. So for all you single moms out there in the dating world, I can't really give you a warning that you haven't already heard, but at least have fun with the dating thing. Sometimes when something is too good to be true...it is.. so just take it all in with a grain of salt and remember that we are going to get hurt, we're human, and pain is a prerequisite, but we don't have to be victims. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best...signing out for now....wish me luck!!

The Strange thing About Dreams

2007-01-15T23:26:00.000-05:00

The other night my daughter seemingly awake and in a cold sweat bolted out of bed terrified because she saw a bee. I think she was still sleeping but in some strange state of semi- consciousness. I tried to tell her there was no bee, but she would not believe me, because she could see the bee right there. This is a hereditary trait that my daughter has inherited. My sister and I both have insect dreams in which we awaken in a state of madness seeing larger than life insects in our rooms. It is so real and you can almost feel the furry legs of the spider, or hear the buzzing of the bee, and you feel like you are in danger in some way. I'm not sure why we have these dreams. My kids are going through a tough time right now with the separation, and my daughter is feeling it quite intensely. She doesn't understand why things can't be the way they were, and why her daddy wouldn't come home. She pointed to where the bee was hovering over her pillow. I turned the light on and put my hands over her pillow to show her she was safe. She slept practically on top of me the rest of the night, and we both felt safe. Perhaps the bee is her insecurity. She is in a familiar place but the feelings she is feeling are very unfamiliar. Could it be she feels like her home has been invaded by the emptiness she feels when she can't call her daddy to her room at night when she's scared, or hug her mommy when she scrapes her knee at her daddy's place. It is true that no child should have to experience this, and even though I fought with all my heart until there was nothing left to fight for, I still feel intense guilt that my children have to deal with these feelings. And although I know I can give them all my love and cherish them, and tell them everyday that I love them and I can keep them I still feel like I couldn't protect them. I also know they have seen my sadness, and I have told them that mommy understands why they are sad. People don't understand that children are humans with a heart and soul, dreams and nightmares, and when they can't deal with their adult problems and decide to run from them it does effect the children. What's strange is that in a fully conscious state, neither my daughter, my sister, nor myself are afraid of insects, but in a dream state we are. Dreams represent reality, but they are abstract. I like to think of Dreams as like art, we are creating an abstract painting of our fears, and fantasies, and sometimes they are a message of warning or there to show us something. My daughter is more afraid of the unknown, than anything else. She sees a bee in her room and she is afraid it is going to sting her, but it's not. It is just a hallucination, but is so real to her. I was there to show her she was safe, and to prove to her that she would not be hurt. That is parallel to reality. She is scared that she won't be safe with her daddy not living with us, but I am there to show her that she is safe, and her mommy is strong and loves her so much. She can shelter herself in my arms and as long as that bee is in her subconscious and she fears for her safety I will keep reassuring her that she won't be stung.

Don't Stuff it Too Early

2007-01-13T10:01:00.000-05:00

A few days ago at the retail store at which I work, a woman came in and was looking around the store. I asked her if I could be of any assistance and she mentioned she was looking for stocking stuffers. I was quite certain that Christmas has just passed, but could it have all been a dream? I began to question my mental state. Could it be that the holiday season is just beginning again? Do I have to relive Christmas 2006 again.... Maybe it's like that Bill Murray movie Groundhog Day in which he has to relive the same day over and over again. I asked her again. "I'm sorry did you say Stocking stuffers."

"Yes," she replied, "It's always so hard to find great stocking stuffers." I replayed Christmas over again in my mind....It seemed real, the decorating of the tree, the empty bank account, the visits with family and the exhaustion. She was shopping for Stocking stuffers...maybe she was speaking literally, maybe her stockings were too big, and she needed to stuff them....No! that is a ridiculous notion...CHRISTMAS IS COMING AGAIN!!!! (this is where in the horror movie the music becomes very intense) I decided that this was impossible, especially when I looked around my store and saw that everyone else had the same bewildered look on their faces as I did. Phew, I breathed a sigh of relief...It's not me that's insane, it's the lady, but just to be sure I asked... "So you like to start next years shopping early?"

"No," she paused....My heart started to beat faster....

"I HAVE lost my marbles," I thought, "All the crap that is happening to me, has finally gotten to me." I started figuring out how I could spend the holidays.."what to wear what to wear...White I think, with my arms tied around to my back and several buckles, that is what's in this season." Or at least where I was going..

She continued to speak, "Well, just getting ideas for next year."

WHY DIDN'T SHE SAY SO? I must say I was relieved, I still had the better part of a year to prepare for next Christmas, and as far as I knew, I was not completely insane, but just in case....and you know something I don't....We did already celebrate Christmas right?

Woman Against Herself

2007-01-11T20:39:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I cry until my stomach hurts,
Until my sorrow drowns out all my words.
My eyes red and stained with tears,
angry, betrayed, for all these years.
Misfortune looms around every bend,
When will this undue madness end.
I’m challenged to feel optimistic,
With all that’s been dealt it’s not realistic.
But I have this stubborn need to feel delight,
Despite the disparaging incessant night.
I know that if not I then someone must feel pain,
for the world is sadistic and after sun must come rain.
So I will be strong for the broken hearted,
And if I have to start over, well, I've already started.
Waging a mental battle within,
Woman against herself, and I’ll surely win.
For no more certain am I that more sorrow awaits,
Than I am that I’m destined for something great.

Socially Awkward Moments--The Sequel...

2007-01-10T14:44:00.000-05:00

Well, I know one should always lock their doors on their house, even when they are at home...but until yesterday, I did not really feel like I needed to. I realise that is a naiive thought, but I've always believed that if someone wants in, they'll get in...BUT there are circumstances in which I can testify CAN really happen, that may not be life threatening, but are definately embarrassing for which we should always lock our doors.

Yesterday, I was having a pretty normal day in my little house in Suburban Small town Canada. I had just gotten out of the shower, and was waiting for my clothes to dry in the dryer. I was talking to my friend on the phone, when the doorbell rang. I was wearing nothing more than my housecoat and skivvies. I know that this sounds like the beginning of a chapter in an erotic novel...but au contraire.

My daughter was playing beside me when the doorbell rang, so I said to her..."lets hide in the kitchen..mommy isn't ready for visitors." So off we went to the kitchen...The doorbell rang again...and suddenly I hear a male voice "hello are you home." Mortified I kept quiet, which unfortunately wasn't on my daughters list of things to do. My daughter waltzed out to the front door and the male voice asked, "Is your mommy or daddy home?"

Me cringing in the kitchen, knowing, I'm going to have to walk out in my housecoat, which I should mention, has no tie on it, cowering in utter embarrassment, yell out "yes I'm here, just busy right now"...So the male voice with no respect for my privacy says, "I just need you to sign something."

I thought to myself..."What do I do?" I decided that I needed to go to the door, I was a bit worried that they would snatch up my daughter, or who knows what. I wandered out of the kitchen and there stood the mailman in my doorway, with of all things a letter to my ex-husband, that was sent express post, and THAT is what I needed to sign for. Imagine this for a laugh....Me trying to hold my housecoat together in the doorway on a frigid January day, signing for a letter that in all rights should not have been coming to my door!

Now don't write me comments about safety, and locking the doors etc...I've learned my lesson...trust me...And I do realise that he could have been a serial killer, or a rapist, so don't bother saying that either...It turned out to be another embarrassing moment...and I will lock my doors from now on, that I can assure you!

If you can't take the heat, you might want a ride in my Van!

2007-01-07T23:42:00.000-05:00

I'm sure my tales of woe are becoming tiresome. However sometimes it is helpful to appreciate your own good fortune, when you hear how crappy other people's lives are...but my life is good, so don't get too excited. It seems that now my car is out to get me...Just when my life started to get peaceful again, my van decided to join the downward spiral of my life... Apparently it's not enough that my husband left, and I'm already finding it hard to make ends meet, now I have a car that is leaking rad fluid, and subsequently has no heat. It's funny though, it takes a lot to get me down. I've learned this lately. I truly think that there are good things in store for me, and that this is all part and parcel of the bigger picture. Sometimes life has to truly wipe your slate clean to give you opportunities. I could wallow in self pity, or spend my life hating my ex, and never forgive him. But that would be hardest on me. I would be the one to truly suffer and then he will have won. I refuse to be the loser in all this. So even though all this garbage is flying my way, it has to get messy sometimes in order for you to truly get the picture. I have learned that I am a smart, tough, independent and attractive young woman, and that I can deal with anything life throws my way... That is far more valuable than anything my ex could have given me, and I now don't look at my marriage as one of my failures. I look at it as one of my successes. I WAS in it for life, I meant every word of my vows, and I was not a quitter, so I did not have a failed marriage. My ex had a failed marriage. He is the failure in this. I am proud of myself really. I made mistakes, and I have grown from them, I have the strength to carry on despite all the bumps in the road, I'm paving my own way. I have had to seek the support of my friends and family when things got overwhelming, but I am here and stronger than ever... I might have been put on this earth to work at a difficult and challenging life, but I am going to keep a smile on my face while I do it...and maybe even laugh a little along the way....SO BRING ON THE HARDSHIPS..well I not that I'm asking for more, but I've stopped being afraid of what might happen next, and have started to assure myself I can handle it.

If you are uncomfortable with me talking about Sex...Maybe you shouldn't read this

2007-01-02T22:10:00.000-05:00

I have to admit I've been thinking lately about sex. I can't have it, that is out of the question, but I have been wondering lately if I will ever get to have it again. That is really a strange thing, to suddenly realise that you may never have sex again. I know it may not seem like that bad of a thing to married women out there, that are run ragged by the kids, your husband constantly tapping you on the shoulder every night for some nooky nooky, but trust me, when you can't have sex, you start to miss it. I think it's human instinct to want what you can't have. Once you have it, quite often it loses it's original appeal. I've decided that if I ever get to have sex again, I will enjoy it. I am not going to let it get boring, or become a chore. It could have to do with my age. I am approaching the big 3-0 and it was recently brought to my attention that this is the age when women reach their "sexual peak." That was clever planning... Men reach their sexual peak at 18, and women at 30...Does that mean I'm supposed to find myself an 18 year old stud? Or perhaps it just goes to show, that men and women are supposed to constantly be at odds. I mean we reach our sexual peak when men are just getting tired of doing it. They want to get laid every night until we reach 30, and the day we finally want it, they can't get it up. I guess if I was God, I would have done things a little different as far as that goes. I would have made men and women reach their sexual peak at around 24, and their most fertile age between 24 and 30. This way we could avoid most of our problems as teenagers, and a lot of our problems as adults. I would also either make women just as easily aroused as men, or men a little more challenging. I suppose I shouldn't think that way, I presume God knew what he was doing, and had his reasons for making us the way he did. I can't figure it out though, unless I'm right and "cougars" (30+ ladies looking for younger men) are the only ones who've got this whole thing figured out, and I should be prowling the university campus' for my future beau....Somehow I doubt that, and besides, even if an 18 year old and a 30 year old are a good sexual match, I would doubt they would have anything else in common. It is after all a well known fact that women mature faster than men, so I'm pretty sure there would be little to talk about after the sex was over. Now don't judge me for writing this tasty tid bit on sex. Despite the fact that I am a 30 year old woman who has been 10 months without sex, I am also a sensible woman. I know that I can survive without it, and I really don't have time to cruise the college dorms, and I refuse to go to bars to find my 18 year old stud, so no need to worry I will remain a born again virgin for I'm sure a very long time if not forever. I wonder if Chapters is open, I hear that is a great place to....umm...read books.....Oh well....I guess I'll just do a crossword puzzle or fake an injury and go to emergency to land myself a hot young doctor....Who am I kidding that only happens in the movies...A crossword puzzle it is...I need to get out more...

What will 2007 bring

2007-01-01T21:19:00.000-05:00

2007... A new year, it always sounds so good. Fresh beginnings, a clean slate - Last year has been and gone, and not without it's share of heartache, but with that heartache comes opportunity. I look forward to my future, making new dreams, succeeding, failing, but with a new outlook. I will fail, I have a habit of doing that, but I have been driven to the brink this year and I have come out of it better than ever. So in saying that I will fail, I will also say, I am not afraid. If I fail I will fail with dignity, and I will learn the lessons that I am destined to learn from my failures. Sometimes failure is inevitable in this frail human state, sometimes it is circumstance that makes us fail, sometimes it is poor choices, and sometimes it is bad luck. Sometimes a failure turns out to be a success. Sometimes something you think you need, something you have worked so hard to keep is in fact breaking you down. These are lessons I learned in 2006, a terrible year, arguably the worst year of my life, but I may in years to come look back and say it was the best year of my life, because I grew as a person, because I learned more about myself that year than I had ever learned and because I unwittingly lost and unconsciously gained. I will see this, that is one of my goals for 2007. Not to see my failures, and losses as misfortune, but to thrive on them and to praise my own successes no matter how small they are. I will rise above 2006 and carry myself with pride. I know I'm not 'unwanted', 'unloved', 'a failure'. I see that I am not 'useless', or 'unworthy'. These are the words whispered in my ear by my sub-conscious, when I was left crying in the very position I lay in my mother's womb, by the person I thought would protect, love and cherish me until death do us part. But my conscious intellect and my very soul are fighting a battle with that whispering catalyst in my mind. This New Year is not going to be easy, but it will be better, not because I will have more money, or find a man, but because my soul is going to fight with all it's power to achieve happiness beyond circumstance. I wish this for all who read this entry: I hope that even if life is difficult this year, whether it be loss of loved ones, financial hardships, marital strife; I hope that you can find the strength in yourself to not look at these as failures, and learn the lessons they are truly meant to teach, and grow as a person. I hope this even for myself.

Moments of Magic

2006-12-26T12:12:00.000-05:00

Well....I survived it. Christmas Day is over, and what a relief!! I should say Christmas was quite nice. My kids had a great day, and were grateful, and well behaved. We didn't even really have any "too much sugar, over-stimulation, extreme exhaustion, melt-downs." These are usually common with children on Christmas, after they have been fed mounds of chocolate, dragged to extended family's homes, and given more gifts (like they really need more things). I mean I have to be honest, I was a bit down in the dumps this holiday season. My husband had left me, I was like everyone else, struggling to make ends meet, and working overtime at a large retail chain watching the hustle and bustle and becoming more bitter with every horrid customer that in my opinion had no clue what Christmas was about, nor did they care. I actually just wanted to be able to get past my own melancholy and enjoy my time with my children, and that is exactly what I did.

When my dad sang "Oh! Holy Night!" on Christmas Eve, it brought a tear to my eye, which it has done every year since I have become an adult, because it is no longer just a song my dad sings really well, it is also a piece of my puzzle, a part of my life that is so important. When I hear him sing, it floods my mind with memories, and I can't hold back the tears. It also reminds me that one day I will not hear that beautiful carol sung by my father, and I know now that I have to cherish it with every passing year. This moment, this year, reminded me, that Christmas can always be special, even if I am overwhelmed by life, because all I needed was to hear that song, and I was alive again with the spirit of the Holiday.

After a small get together at my parents on Christmas Eve we went home. I had invited my ex to spend Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Christmas night at my house in the spare room. I figured the kids would appreciate the togetherness, and wouldn't feel stretched too thin. It was a great idea, because they would wake up like every other Christmas morning, and we would all come and see the presents Santa had brought. Seeing my children struck with the magic of Santa, was the second moment when I realised that Christmas can always be special, as long as there are children in the world. Even when my children grow up, I will hopefully be blessed with grandchildren, and all my nieces and nephews and their children, and will get to see that spark of magic that makes this such a special time of the year.

I know that there will likely be other years where life gets me down, and makes the holidays a difficult time. I do hope though, that I will be given moments to remind me that there is magic in Christmas, and it goes beyond the preparations, and the money spent, and the gifts given. I will hopefully see each and every year, those moments that spark the memories, and create the magic. And that this Christmas will not be for my children, 'that first Christmas when mommy and daddy weren't together', that they will have been given the magic this year too, and will remember the great time we had together as a family.

Socially Awkward Moments

2006-12-17T22:05:00.000-05:00

My daughter, my friend and I went to a Christmas concert at my church, in which my mom and dad were both singing in the choir. It was a living Christmas tree, meaning a giant tree was built, lit up and the members of the choir adorned the branches of the tree. We went early to ensure we were able to get a good seat. We found a seat in the second row, and made ourselves comfortable. My daughter was a bit restless, as it was nearing her bedtime, but we settled in and prepared ourselves for the concert. A few minutes later, this guy comes and asks if the seats next to us were taken, and we kindly said "no, go ahead." The Entire row next to us was empty, but he proceeded to sit nearly on my lap. I didn't quite know what to do, so I moved closer to my friend, who was at this point trying to keep from laughing. I did not see as much humour in it as he did, as not only was this man so far beyond my comfort zone, but it did not help that he smelled of cigarettes and body odour. I was attempting to be polite, and not look like I was edging away from him, but it proved to be in vain when my daughter in her sweet innocence, looks up at me with nose plugged, and tears in her eyes and says "Mommy he stinks." Perhaps if this man wasn't practically sitting on my lap, I wouldn't have felt so mortified, but I knew he heard it. I felt pity for this man, until he began to speak....He started talking about his childhood Christmas memories, and how he recalled one special Christmas when he told his younger sister that Santa wasn't coming, because he had kidnapped Santa, and barbecued Rudolph. My daughter looked a bit disturbed, so in an effort to keep things calm, I decided to pull my daughter further away from him. By now I was practically on my friends lap, and being a newly single lady, with one guy on one side of me, practically sitting on my lap, and me trying to escape, by moving on to the lap of my male best friend. I was imagining the questions that may have been racing through the minds of my parent's friends sitting perched in that Christmas tree, faces aglow. "Well, she didn't take long to move on did she?", or "Which one is she with, not easy to tell?" It didn't help that my daughter eventually passed out, I'm not sure if it was from exhaustion or the smell, but she was definitely fast asleep, and her body lay in such a way that she was pulling my top down, and no matter how much I tried to pull it up, it just kept dragging itself down to an inappropriate level of cleavage, particularly when in the Sanctuary of the church. It came time for the offering plate to be passed, and I was not prepared to give, and neither was my friend. It seemed that our new neighbor had saved his last quarter to put in the plate, and felt compelled to announce to the entire church that a quarter was all he could afford this time of the year. Apparently social skills were not his strong suit, and truthfully I would have moments of pity for him, and then he would ruin them.

The music was wonderful, my dad's solo stole the show, and normally I would not be opposed to being the meat in a man sandwich if the circumstances were different, but one piece of the bread had apparently spoiled, and the other piece was enjoying it too much. I knew that my best friend would never let me live this down. I knew he'd been enjoying my misery, and quite frankly a good best friend would offer to switch me seats, coming up with some sort of excuse like "you may need to get out with your daughter", but lets face it, we don't have that kind of friendship. We have the laugh at each other until our guts hurt type of friendship, and I am the first to admit, that if the tables were turned, I might have even been worse, encouraging the spoiled bread to tell more childhood memories. Finally the service concluded...Hey it wasn't so bad, so he smelled, big deal. Christmas was coming and surely to goodness there would be a stick of deodorant in his stocking, or at the very least a bar of soap. And so his childhood was a bit disturbing. Whose isn't these days? It came time to proceed out of the pews. Keep in mind the entire other end of our pew was empty except one lady, but for some reason this guy decided that he needed to exit stage left, which is where we were sitting, and also keep in mind that my sweet daughter was fast asleep on my lap, which did not last as when he pardoned himself and shoved his way through our end of the pew.

I guess it was just one of those unavoidable socially awkward moments that you have once in a while in your life, made worse by a sadistic best friend who enjoys watching me suffer, and a miserable child who is overly sensitive to smells. In all situations like this you should come away having learned something. Here is a list of lessons I learned 1) Wear deodorant. Even if you are quite certain you don't smell, wear it anyway just to be safe. 2) Always put a purse, or jacket next to you when you sit in a pew, so there is a comfort zone established. If you leave no barrier, you run the risk of a situation like this. 3) Sometimes there is no avoiding these situations, so if at all possible leave one of the other people you are with in the vulnerable position and take the aisle seat....because that's what friends are for.

Lost Without You

2006-12-16T22:09:00.000-05:00

When we were children, my sister and I and whatever random neighborhood army brat that happened to live on our street at the time, would play outside from dawn until dusk. We had freedom that kids don't get to enjoy today, because we know too much about what dangers are lurking in our own back yards and neighborhood parks. But in a more innocent time, some may say naive time, you could ride your bike all around the neighborhood without a care in the world, or play in the loft of the abandoned barn and tell ghost stories or experience your own ghost stories. My memories of my childhood would be empty without her. And even though we fought often, and passionately about anything from clothes to our privacy (as we shared our room until my sister was about 14) we still loved each other, and have a bond to this day that can never be broken.

One time I remember my sister and I and a kid named Mike were riding our bikes to the pit (which was a park that was basically a strange hole in the ground in the middle of our quiet neighborhood) and decided to explore what was beyond it. We came to a cliff that may or may not have been that steep, but as a child it looked like the Grand Canyon. Oddly at the bottom of this "canyon" were railroad tracks, and leading down to the tracks was a ladder. A ladder leading down to nothing but a death trap of jagged rocks, and speeding trains seemed like an adventure that my sister and Mike just had to explore. On one hand, I was coming of age, and thought Mike was rather dashing in his jeans and t-shirt, who was I to stop him from becoming a man by climbing down the ladder of death to the pit of despair, but on the other hand, my big sister who was fearless and adventurous, was planning on joining him on this expedition, and I knew even when I was a child that I would be lost without her. I took her aside (so that Mike would not see me) and I plead with my sister not to go down the ladder, as I didn't wish to see her slip to her death that day at the cliff of doom. She told me I was just being a baby, and that she would be fine. I begged her, not caring what Mike thought not to climb down the ladder, for some reason I felt like Mike was none of my concern, it was my sister I wanted to protect. I climbed on my bike and rode home as fast as I could. My heart was racing and I was feeling as though my sister was in grave danger. I ran into the house and called for my mom, I tattled like any normal little sister would do, but I really did not want to have to do it. I don't remember exactly how the rest transpired. I can't recall if my sister and Mike came home shortly after me, because they knew I would tattle, and figured they may as well come home, or if my mom got in the car and drove down to the pit to retrieve the two foolish children from the cliff side of ruin. Either way as I remember it, my sister did not climb the ladder and I felt like I'd saved her life. Maybe I was just a foolish little annoying sister, but even as a young child, I knew that I needed her.

My sister has saved me so many times in my life that I've lost count. She grew into womanhood with beauty and grace, and I look up to her still as I did when I was a child, hoping that I can learn from her strength of character and her ability to endure hardships with faith and still have a smile on her face. I love her and I know she loves me, and anytime either of us starts to climb down that ladder we will without fail pull the other one to safety.

Having sisters makes you lucky. You don't see it when your growing up and one of them is tying you to a doorknob by your stockings and leaving you there, and the other one is bossing you around, but you see it when you all become women, and all the things you love about them replace all the things you hated.

There are many more stories about my sisters that carved our relationships, and who we are today, and I will fondly remember those stories even the stories where tears were shed, and battle lines were drawn, all of these helped shape our sisterhood, one that will endure forever.

The Truth about Lemons

2006-12-15T18:35:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I don't think I worry enough. I have always been an undying optimist. I carry with me the ideal that everything will always turn out. Is that really true? Does everything always work out? Is life really about a series of mistakes, lessons learned, and magical happy endings. I'd rather not think about the alternative. That is why even when life gives me lemons, and they are rotten, and they have worms growing out of them, not to mention that even if you wanted to make lemonade out of them you've run out of sugar, even then, I always seem to think, "there will be other lemons, and someday I'll have sugar."

Some people just think I'm nuts. They want to know when I'm going to "wake up and smell the rotten lemons?" Well, I'll tell them when....NEVER!!! I'd rather be completely oblivious to the awful truth, than to feel the hand of doom pressing ever so constantly upon me. I'd rather always believe in the hope, than to wallow in the despair. Maybe I will continue to spiral down into nothingness, but I'll be able to say, "I'm sure it can't get any worse than this, Hey what can be worse than nothingness?."

It can be good however to be realistic. I mean if you think you can walk in front of a train and not get smushed, just because you believed good would come of it, than you are not an optimist you are a fool. But I'm talking about with emotional battles, even if you think they are with someone or something else in your life, a loved one, a dead end job; they are really a battle with yourself. We control about 90% of our own happiness, I think. You can always go in a different direction. You might say, "I can't quit my job, and unfortunately there are laws about pushing my mother in law out of a moving vehicle." And that might be true, but you can look at it with a different attitude. Maybe you can try to get training, so that you might one day be able to get a different job, or perhaps you can try only thinking about dear mother in law when you have to be around her, so that your life isn't polluted by that negative person's energy.

Anyway enough of my cheesy thoughts for today. But really try this whole optimism thing, it truly does make you feel a little happier, and I know we'll always have "Why me?" or "My life sucks worse than everyone else" days. But with a little bit of optimism, we can figure out the answer to "Why me?" and figure out that life isn't so bad after all.

Milk Chocolate Fantasies

2006-12-12T23:20:00.000-05:00

Tuesdays are interesting for me. I flirt with this guy all day at work, and he flirts back, and then we go back to our everyday lives, and meet again the following Tuesday. The problem is, I kind of start to think I might want to go out on a date again, or kiss someone again. Today he brought in Baci, these Italian chocolates...Which by the way when translated means 'kisses', and inside each chocolate is a romantic, and sometimes erotic saying. By the end of my shift, I had opened every chocolate, taken out the erotic sayings and wrapped the chocolates back up ever so neatly, and put them in the box...The problem is I was caught by my flirting doctor (yes he's a doctor, not bad eh?) and I had to explain that I was saving them for a rainy day. He found that rather amusing. Some of my co-workers, seem to think this man has been checking me out for a while, but I am convinced he is just a big time flirt, because if he really had the hots for me that bad, I would have hoped that sometime during the last 3 months (or longer if you count the time when I was completely oblivious) of flirting every Tuesday, and me, definitely giving it back, that he would have grown a pair by now and asked me out. I really don't want to go to the trouble of asking him, and besides, I somehow think that he might not take me too seriously. After all, I did take all the erotic messages out of the box of Italian kisses, to save for a rainy day. Maybe right now he is wondering what I am thinking too though, maybe he is thinking, "when she told me that she liked my kisses, was she implying something?"

Oh well, maybe our affair will be a Tuesday affair, and will never go beyond, a lot of laughs, some major flirting, and a box of kisses, mixed in with a little rainy day eroticism... I'm o.k with that. With that there is no heartache...and those chocolate kisses taste really good, but real ones are much nicer....but I should stick with the chocolate ones.....yes....chocolate.....kisses.....romantic baci....I'm sorry what was I saying?

Best Friends

2006-12-11T21:25:00.000-05:00

I always say, it's quality not quantity when it comes to friends. My Best girlfriend is one of the great inspirations of my life. She is always down to earth, and we laugh together with great authenticity, and we feed off of each other for survival. My best (not so) girlfriend, meaning he is not a girl, but definitely a lady (ha ha) is like another version of me. I can look at him and see what is truly great about life; laughter, laughter and more laughter. We share most of the same comic views about the world, even if they are somewhat strange or even perverted in some crazy way. I love them both, and I know they love me (even when they want to hate me). We are soul mates. Some people meet by chance. Other meetings are mapped out by the stars, and even if you tried to avoid them these meetings were destined to happen and forces beyond human control were at work to ensure that they did.

Lets start with my best girlfriend...The one that is really a girl. We went to school together from the time that we were 12 and 13, all the way up to the last year of high school. I always thought she was really cool and totally different from other girls. We did not even really speak to each other until that last year of high school. It wasn't until my friend had her second baby girl when I really truly realised that we were meant to be friends. Seven years earlier I had given birth to a beautiful baby boy. He seemed perfectly healthy, but indeed he was very sick. He had a very serious heart condition and required open heart surgery when he was 7 months old. I knew no one else who had been through this, and thought many times "Why me?" I learned the answer to that question when her baby was a few months old and had to be rushed to A children's hospital and they were told that their baby girl had a very serious heart condition. I knew that my higher purpose was to provide support for my friend, and answers that only someone who had been through it could give. Both our children with very rare heart conditions, left in the hands of strangers to repair their tiny hearts. Both of us strong mothers who learned a new lesson about the love for their children. We were definitely soul mates.

My other best Friend and I started as co-workers. We worked together for almost a year and never even spoke to each other. Both of us relocated to another workplace within the company and it was in the first weeks of this new location that we bonded. It started with catch phrases and clever witty insults, but evolved into so much more. My best friend told me after a few years of friendship that he was gay. It didn't matter to me, and I loved him anyway, but I felt like I was going to get to know a whole new side of him. I did. I was there through his growing up period, his coming of age, and watched with fear, and pride as he overcame a lot of obstacles, and explored himself. I watched him find love which made me breath a sigh of relief, like a parent of a teenager when the worst is finally over. I know we would be lost without each other, because it is almost as if we are the same person sometimes. I can't imagine what I would have done without him when my husband left. He was a shoulder to lean on, and he never, not even once judged me. He gave me space when I needed it, and let me vent when I just had too. We are definitely soul mates.

I feel totally blessed that I don't have a million friends, I don't need a million Friends. I need the ones I've been blessed to meet. There are a few other people in my life that are definitely here for a reason, and who knows maybe more soul mates will enter my life. But this blog is dedicated to my two best Friends, who will always be my best friends.

If you Haven't got a Haypenny, than God Bless You!

2006-12-10T22:49:00.000-05:00

Yes, the Holiday's are fast approaching, and sadly all I can think about is how much money is (or isn't) in the bank. Why can't Christmas be like the "Old Days"? Homemade gifts, visions of sugarplums dancing in our heads. Why can't we just enjoy a great meal, simple gifts, and a warm hearth fire burning? Of course this the general consensus of the typical wallow-er of Self Pity. You start to appreciate the simple things in life; partly because they remind us that Christmas is not about the monetary worth of the gift, but it is about the thought put into it; and partly because the thought is that monetarily, I have very little worth, and if I buy you this gift, you may see me begging for money on the corner, or much, much worse. Surely if my family (and ironically my ex's family...don't ask) knew how broke I was they would not impose "minimum gift values" that we should be spending on each other, and surely they would be expecting a handmade Christmas decoration, or some sugarplums. I Suppose I am also too proud to say..."Sorry, I can't afford $40.00, Sucks to be you, I got your name." I did muster up the courage however to suggest that next year, we only buy for the kids, and all the adults pitch in whatever they can afford to donate to a charity. It went well on my side of the family, because we are all kind of sick of the psycho gift opening terror of wrapping paper flying, and standing in the boxing day line up the next day with the pajama's that are 2 sizes to big....but when I suggested it to one of the people on the other side, they said, "That sounds great, we can do the gift exchange, and also donate to a charity."..... Not really what I had in mind, but I don't really intend on putting my name in that draw next year anyway. Don't worry, when I look at my Christmas tree lit up, and the smiles on my children's faces when we made cookies for Santa, I still feel the magic of the Holidays, and I do know that it will all work out in the end. I think I will write a letter to Santa this year though, asking that maybe he could pitch in for some of the gifts that I am so kind to put his name on under the tree.

Knee Deep In Brown Grass

2006-12-08T17:58:00.000-05:00

You know how they say the grass is greener on the other side? Men always seem to think it is anyway, well I'm knee deep in brown grass. You see while my ex-husband, and many other men out there are enjoying the greener pastures, me and the women left behind are left with the mortgage, the utility bills, and a whole lot of guilt. Forget that they were the morons that decided to pack it it, that were never told by their dear sweet mothers that marriage wouldn't be a walk in the park. Forget that their children were robbed of a "normal" family, just because their selfish desires took priority over all else. Forget that I've been working extra hours to make ends meet, he's gallivanting off to the big city for midnight poker at the casino, whilst I'd be lucky to have a quarter to put in a slot machine. Forget all that, because it doesn't seem to matter. I've been told that I can't even get monetary support from him, because we have the kids equal amount of time...I'm sorry, last I checked, we signed a marriage contract...and I haven't broken it, he did. I'm sick of those losers on the greener side anyway...Who do they think they are? They can kiss my "brown Gr"ass"". I'm sure one day Karma will gloriously appear, and perhaps with some justice, and a little bit of fertilizer, my grass will look greener, but on my fence will be a sign that reads, "If you have already crossed this fence, you are no longer permitted on this side....SUCKERS!!!"

Just Pondering

2006-12-05T23:09:00.000-05:00

I have a crush on an idea...I feel like I want to have fun again, but I am new at this whole single thing, and can't really decide if I'm just delusional, or maybe if I have amnesia. For some reason, no matter how much crap we go through with the dudes, for some reason we still find them attractive, and call me absurd, but I still find the idea of intimacy alluring....Crazy eh...I mean I just got completely dumped on by a man who I wholeheartedly and 100% trusted, the father of my children, and yet I still LOVE men....I suppose I can't blame all men for my misery, but in some ways they are all alike... kind of a collective of jerky things they all do, but don't mistake me for a victim. If... I ever become involved with one of the despicable creatures again, I will have learned a few valuable lessons. Maybe I'll share some of my lessons later, but right now, I'm still fantasizing about this idea....the idea that I can find a fulfilling intimate....I don't dare say relationship, but for lack of a better word....and the idea that this could actually be fun.....Snap out of it Heather.