Sometimes you learn life's lessons in the most unexpected places. Yesterday, for me, it was in the express lane at the grocery store. I had three items in my basket, the express lane had half a dozen people lined up, but the other check outs were dealing with buggy loads so I joined the express. There was an older man in front of me with a container of yogurt and a young fella in front of him. As the young guy started unloading his basket it was clear he was over the posted limit of 1 - 8 items. I'd been having one of those days -- run here, run there, run back -- so I was enjoying slowing down, vegging out and contemplating the differences in the pregnancy fashion styles of Kim Kardashian and Kate Middleton.
Clearly, the old guy had no similar interest. He seemingly didn't even care if Kim was going to be able to shed the pregnancy weight. What he did care about was the flagrant violation of the express lane limits and I zoned back in just as he was pointing to the sign and berating the young guy for defying this rule. I looked at the old guy and thought, 'Hmmm...must be some damn good yogurt that he's anxious to get home and eat.' The young fella looked extremely uncomfortable and after trying to brush off the older guy's concerns, explained that he had been in another check out and had been told to go to the express.
I wanted him to look my way so I could give him a shrug and a 'don't sweat it, been there, done that' smile, but he was fixated on getting his illegal number of items bagged and getting out of that store. After he left the cashier explained to the older guy that sometimes that happens -- a customer is sent to express when no one is there and then it gets busy. Obviously unappeased, he grunted, took his yogurt and left. I chatted a bit with the cashier then strolled out with my bag into the sunshine.
The lessons here? Nothing new, but sometimes a little reminder is in order....
While the old guy jumped the gun and judged the young guy to be an inconsiderate rule breaker, I was judging the old guy as just plain miserable. Maybe he was, or maybe he just had a strong need to satisfy his yogurt addiction. Who knows? So...judge not.
Unless it's a matter of life or death (and few things are), be flexible and bend the rules on occasion. Life is more fun when you colour outside the lines. So...relax.
It took less than a minute for the cashier to ring through the extra six items. That minutes wasn't going to make or break my day and if it was, then there was something seriously wrong with my priorities. So...slow down, relax, breathe.
And just be.
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
Sunday, 28 April 2013
The Plight of the Pleco
A sparkling, serene aquarium is a beautiful thing. It's also one hell of a lot of work. A few years back I set up a small ten gallon tank. Figured it would be nice to keep a few fish, listen to the soothing sounds of the gently cascading water, find the meaning of life in the sultry, hypnotic movements of a fantail goldfish.
Instead, I set up a death tank. Everything that went in was belly up within 24 hours. How could this be? I was doing everything I was supposed to -- de-chlorinating the water, balancing the ph, avoiding overfeeding. But every morning I'd scoop out the lifeless bodies and head to the pet store for more. People started calling me "fish killer" and I was wracked with guilt. Was I keeping the tank too clean?
So I gave up on the neons, the tetruses, the mollies and the platies. I even called it quits with the guppies. It feels like the ultimate fish failure when guppies don't survive. Instead I picked out a couple called Foxy Ladies (which turned out to be some sort of shark) and an algae eating plecostomus we aptly named Crapbag. And miracle of miracle, not only did they survive, they thrived. A little too well. Pretty soon Crappy outgrew the ten gallon tank -- he could barely turn around -- and I upgraded to a thirty gallon. And then the ick hit. I added salts and medicines. I spent more money trying to keep those freakin' fish alive than I would have if I'd just replaced them. But it was all for naught.
By now they were all too large for the traditional 'burial at sea' (aka the toilet flush). And in those days my daughter insisted everything had to be buried in the yard. (During the winter they would go into a ziplock in the freezer. I learned never to defrost anything that had RIP written on it in.) Crappy was so big by the time he expired that we had to fold his tail over to get him into a Pringles can.
I cleaned the aquarium and left it empty. Then one day I decided to try again. Just a few goldfish and another Crapbag. Aquariums are kind of like child birth -- you forget the pain. Everything went along quite nicely for a while. Then I began to dread the days when a cleaning was in order. Did I really want to spend two hours elbow deep in fish shit? Because, despite spending their lives in water, fish are filthy creatures. I'm pretty sure no other creature on earth produces as much excrement as a fish. (Not something you want to think about when the lake bottom muck is oozing between your toes.)
Finally they all died off -- all except the plecostomus. The light burned out and I didn't replace it. The aerator stopped bubbling and I didn't fix it. The filter got clogged and I didn't clean it. The water is slowly evaporating and I've stopped adding to it. And that damned pleco lives on.
But now I'm feeling bad. As prehistoric as the thing looks, it's a living creature after all. I'm going to clean out the tank one last time. But that's it. And as soon as he's safely tucked away in his own Pringles can, I'm getting rid of the aquarium.
Before I do something stupid and think....'hmmm, maybe some fish would be nice.'
Instead, I set up a death tank. Everything that went in was belly up within 24 hours. How could this be? I was doing everything I was supposed to -- de-chlorinating the water, balancing the ph, avoiding overfeeding. But every morning I'd scoop out the lifeless bodies and head to the pet store for more. People started calling me "fish killer" and I was wracked with guilt. Was I keeping the tank too clean?
So I gave up on the neons, the tetruses, the mollies and the platies. I even called it quits with the guppies. It feels like the ultimate fish failure when guppies don't survive. Instead I picked out a couple called Foxy Ladies (which turned out to be some sort of shark) and an algae eating plecostomus we aptly named Crapbag. And miracle of miracle, not only did they survive, they thrived. A little too well. Pretty soon Crappy outgrew the ten gallon tank -- he could barely turn around -- and I upgraded to a thirty gallon. And then the ick hit. I added salts and medicines. I spent more money trying to keep those freakin' fish alive than I would have if I'd just replaced them. But it was all for naught.
By now they were all too large for the traditional 'burial at sea' (aka the toilet flush). And in those days my daughter insisted everything had to be buried in the yard. (During the winter they would go into a ziplock in the freezer. I learned never to defrost anything that had RIP written on it in.) Crappy was so big by the time he expired that we had to fold his tail over to get him into a Pringles can.
I cleaned the aquarium and left it empty. Then one day I decided to try again. Just a few goldfish and another Crapbag. Aquariums are kind of like child birth -- you forget the pain. Everything went along quite nicely for a while. Then I began to dread the days when a cleaning was in order. Did I really want to spend two hours elbow deep in fish shit? Because, despite spending their lives in water, fish are filthy creatures. I'm pretty sure no other creature on earth produces as much excrement as a fish. (Not something you want to think about when the lake bottom muck is oozing between your toes.)
Finally they all died off -- all except the plecostomus. The light burned out and I didn't replace it. The aerator stopped bubbling and I didn't fix it. The filter got clogged and I didn't clean it. The water is slowly evaporating and I've stopped adding to it. And that damned pleco lives on.
But now I'm feeling bad. As prehistoric as the thing looks, it's a living creature after all. I'm going to clean out the tank one last time. But that's it. And as soon as he's safely tucked away in his own Pringles can, I'm getting rid of the aquarium.
Before I do something stupid and think....'hmmm, maybe some fish would be nice.'
Sunday, 21 April 2013
Guiding Hands
There are angels among us, of this I am certain. I actually met my Guardian Angel once, at the airport in Vancouver. He's an older, well dressed, wispy haired gentleman with a soft, kind voice and an ethereal quality about him. Remind me to tell you the story sometime.
This may seem an odd introduction to talk about my shop, but indulge me. I've just spent hours cleaning and reorganizing the space and I'm not referring to the dark, dingy workshop in my basement (which remains in pristine condition following the purge in January, I might add.) My shop is a bright, airy room in my garage that my Dad built as a place to do his wood working. A lovely little work space, completely wired, full of windows and light, with lots of storage cupboards and great, expansive work surfaces. My Dad was an amazing wood artist working in a medium called intarsia. Using different types of wood for colour and grain, he created intricate pieces that fit together precisely like a puzzle. Before he passed away last year he said he was going to take the shop down. I told him not to although I had no idea what I would use the space for. When he passed, his equipment was given to friends as he had promised.
Fast forward a couple of months. I have a friend whose husband was a beautiful stained glass artist. When he passed away shortly after my Dad, my friend declared to me that I needed a new hobby and offered me all of her husband's stained glass equipment. I'd never considered doing stained glass but the idea appealed to me. Doing glass work would be an expensive hobby to start from scratch but she gifted me with everything I'd need, including more glass than I could possibly imagine using.
I took a class and was hooked. It was kind of like the intarsia work my Dad did with wood, or a quilter for that matter -- cutting and fitting pieces together to create something new. My class project turned out good enough for me to want to hang it up on display. Feeling pretty cocky, I decided for my first solo project to make my friend a gift to thank her for her generous gift. I cut and ground the glass, foiled and soldered the pieces together, patinaed and polished the finished work. It couldn't have turned out more perfect and I was proud to give it to her.
The secret of my early success? I truly believe my Dad and my friend are with me in the shop, guiding me as I work. It's comforting and I talk to them, sometimes out loud, mostly in my head, and always in my heart.
Now if I could only get them to pick up a broom or dust rag, I'd be all set.
On another note...Direct your eyes to the right, to #16 on my list of books I've read this year. You won't find Chasing the Dragon's Tail in any book store or in any e-format...yet. I had the pleasure and privilege to read this novel as a peer review for the author, Brock Clayards, my friend and former colleague. It is a wonderful tale set in Victoria, B.C. at the dawn of the first World War. I'll be sure to post when he publishes.
This may seem an odd introduction to talk about my shop, but indulge me. I've just spent hours cleaning and reorganizing the space and I'm not referring to the dark, dingy workshop in my basement (which remains in pristine condition following the purge in January, I might add.) My shop is a bright, airy room in my garage that my Dad built as a place to do his wood working. A lovely little work space, completely wired, full of windows and light, with lots of storage cupboards and great, expansive work surfaces. My Dad was an amazing wood artist working in a medium called intarsia. Using different types of wood for colour and grain, he created intricate pieces that fit together precisely like a puzzle. Before he passed away last year he said he was going to take the shop down. I told him not to although I had no idea what I would use the space for. When he passed, his equipment was given to friends as he had promised.
Fast forward a couple of months. I have a friend whose husband was a beautiful stained glass artist. When he passed away shortly after my Dad, my friend declared to me that I needed a new hobby and offered me all of her husband's stained glass equipment. I'd never considered doing stained glass but the idea appealed to me. Doing glass work would be an expensive hobby to start from scratch but she gifted me with everything I'd need, including more glass than I could possibly imagine using.
I took a class and was hooked. It was kind of like the intarsia work my Dad did with wood, or a quilter for that matter -- cutting and fitting pieces together to create something new. My class project turned out good enough for me to want to hang it up on display. Feeling pretty cocky, I decided for my first solo project to make my friend a gift to thank her for her generous gift. I cut and ground the glass, foiled and soldered the pieces together, patinaed and polished the finished work. It couldn't have turned out more perfect and I was proud to give it to her.
The secret of my early success? I truly believe my Dad and my friend are with me in the shop, guiding me as I work. It's comforting and I talk to them, sometimes out loud, mostly in my head, and always in my heart.
Now if I could only get them to pick up a broom or dust rag, I'd be all set.
On another note...Direct your eyes to the right, to #16 on my list of books I've read this year. You won't find Chasing the Dragon's Tail in any book store or in any e-format...yet. I had the pleasure and privilege to read this novel as a peer review for the author, Brock Clayards, my friend and former colleague. It is a wonderful tale set in Victoria, B.C. at the dawn of the first World War. I'll be sure to post when he publishes.
Monday, 15 April 2013
Senseless
Thoughts and prayers for the victims, families and witnesses of the Boston Marathon tragedy and to the First Responders who are called upon time and time again to deal with the worst that humanity can inflict upon humanity.
Thursday, 11 April 2013
Breaking the Habit
Pssst...listen...I'm gonna let you in on a secret. A little something I've learned during my first three months of downsizing. Ready? Here it is -- spending money is a habit. Want to hear the best part? It's a habit that can be broken. And I'm doing it.
I keep meticulous financial records so I can tell you that in the first three months of 2013 I've spent over $1,000 less than I did in the first three months of 2012 -- $1,048.76 less, to be precise. And $1,579.26 less than the same period in 2011. Told you I was meticulous. (Sure, you call it anal, but I think we all have a little touch of OCD that crops up in some aspect of our lives. Mine happens to be keeping precise records of where my money goes.)
But, see here's the problem -- spending money on stuff you need is, well, boring. There's no joy in it, no momentary release of dopamine to put a smile on the face and a spring in the step. Like a new pair of shoes will do. For instance, in the last few months I've had to spend money on a new battery for my lawn mower, an accountant to tell me the obscene amount I owe for income tax, the dentist, vacuum cleaner bags, and flea pills for my dog. I love my dog, but really. Boring, boring, boring.
And the stuff I spent money on that I wanted to buy? Music from ITunes; reloading my Starbucks card to enjoy coffee with friends; a stained glass class and some supplies. Spot the trend? All stuff to enhance my life. 'Cause what's life without music, friends and hobbies?
I've learned that spending money is like eating, therefore saving money is like dieting. You have to be cognizant of what you're doing all the time. And vigilant. That's not always easy to do. When I go several weeks without eating chocolate (okay, several days, who am I kidding, I've never gone weeks without eating chocolate) what ultimately ends up happening is I have just one little taste and then, well it's game over. My biggest fear is that the same thing will happen to me with shopping.
I'll be in a mall. I'll have my credit card out. There will be a shoe sale. And the smell of melting plastic will fill the air.
I keep meticulous financial records so I can tell you that in the first three months of 2013 I've spent over $1,000 less than I did in the first three months of 2012 -- $1,048.76 less, to be precise. And $1,579.26 less than the same period in 2011. Told you I was meticulous. (Sure, you call it anal, but I think we all have a little touch of OCD that crops up in some aspect of our lives. Mine happens to be keeping precise records of where my money goes.)
But, see here's the problem -- spending money on stuff you need is, well, boring. There's no joy in it, no momentary release of dopamine to put a smile on the face and a spring in the step. Like a new pair of shoes will do. For instance, in the last few months I've had to spend money on a new battery for my lawn mower, an accountant to tell me the obscene amount I owe for income tax, the dentist, vacuum cleaner bags, and flea pills for my dog. I love my dog, but really. Boring, boring, boring.
And the stuff I spent money on that I wanted to buy? Music from ITunes; reloading my Starbucks card to enjoy coffee with friends; a stained glass class and some supplies. Spot the trend? All stuff to enhance my life. 'Cause what's life without music, friends and hobbies?
I've learned that spending money is like eating, therefore saving money is like dieting. You have to be cognizant of what you're doing all the time. And vigilant. That's not always easy to do. When I go several weeks without eating chocolate (okay, several days, who am I kidding, I've never gone weeks without eating chocolate) what ultimately ends up happening is I have just one little taste and then, well it's game over. My biggest fear is that the same thing will happen to me with shopping.
I'll be in a mall. I'll have my credit card out. There will be a shoe sale. And the smell of melting plastic will fill the air.
Friday, 5 April 2013
Finding Balance
I'm an all or nothing kind of girl. I took my very enjoyable recreational running habit and literally ran it into the ground. A very painful two year case of plantar faceitis convinced me I can't run long distances every day. If I eat one cookie, sure as heck I'm going to eat six. I've even been known to knock off an entire bag of microwave popcorn in one sitting, blatantly ignoring the "two servings" clearly marked on the bag. In my defence, however, I do put it into two bowls with no intention of the eating the second. But what is that saying about intentions? Something about the road to hell being paved with them?
And so it is with this purge I'm doing. It has become all consuming. Writing my novel? Back burner. Stained glass projects? The other back burner.
Luckily there's light at the end of my purging tunnel. Both my kitchen and main bathroom recently underwent total renovations so they were purged to the max at that time. It remains a mystery to me how I could fill an entire garbage bag with junk just from under two bathroom sinks. So now I'm down to just the rec room (aka the wreck room) and the basement closets. Still no easy task. It seems that stuff from all the other newly cleaned out rooms in the house has somehow managed to migrate into the rec room. It's the final stop on the "does it stay or go" train. The room where all the really hard decisions remain to be made.
But my April goal is to find balance again. To carve out time for the wanna do's not just the haveta do's. That's my intention anyway. I'll just be sure to carry a fire extinguisher with me. I've heard it can get a little hot in hell.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)