3 super mistakes

1 – Not stretching after my run today means that I am super stiff and achy, and cannot get comfortable without some form of charlie-horse attacking my body

2 – Only drinking 1L of water today means that I am super dehydrated and can only think about getting something to drink. Unfortunately, the last thing I feel like doing is peeing for the rest of the night. So. Torn.

3 – Having a nice, big cup of coffee at 5pm means I am super wired at 3am. It seemed like such a good idea…I was feeling foggy, I had an open can of coconut milk…then BAM! Wide a-freakin’-wake.

So, what mistakes have you made lately??

Wishing

If I could, I would:_uacct = “UA-4888259-1″;urchinTracker();

  • like mushrooms and borscht. They both sound so appetizing, yet try as I may, I can’t choke them down :(
  • run outside every day
  • feel inspired to take more pictures
  • take an Italian language class
  • buy a new treadmill, but to justify that, I would need to:
  • enjoy running on a treadmill more. It’s just. so. boring!
  • paint my bedroom grey, but I’m afraid to commit because it would be complete and total redecoration of the whole room…
  • fly to Ottawa to visit and show my bugz where I was born
  • hire a housekeeper to give my mom a break
  • get over my “make do with what’s good” mentality and buy a freaking king-sized bed already
  • find the energy and resources to landscape and create a garden with real soil instead of dirt that is deader than dead
  • win the lottery so that my husband was home all the time
With that being said, I am going to dig out my knitting supplies from years ago and see if I can figure it out again! Hahahahahahaaa…no, seriously, I’m actually going to try.
*gulp*

(Im)perfect

There has been a stunning blog post circulating lately about the problem with perfection.  As a self-proclaimed “perfectionist”, I fell in love with it – not only because it is hard to try to be perfect all the time, but because the guilt that embraces me when I fall short is debilitating sometimes.  And when I say debilitating, I mean debilitating – hours of sleep lost, nausea, panic, anxiety over the stupidest things like forgetting to reply to an email or putting off a relatively simple task.

In honour of casting off the shackles of perfection, I present you with my confessions: _uacct = “UA-4888259-1″;urchinTracker();

  • We don’t have cable TV (or even country cable), but my kids watch too many movies.  I monitor what they watch, but they’ve still watched the Little Mermaid three times today
  • There are days on end that I don’t eat a single fruit or vegetable, unless grains count
  • I am 15-20lbs overweight right now, and I should be on my own azz about it, but I can be so slovenly and lazy
  • I nap too often, and I spend too much time on the computer
  • I spank my kids
  • I yell in front of them, and at them
  • I lose my temper too much and swear WAY too much
  • I tend to criticize people who are too much like me for me to comfortably admit
  • I wish I was more focused and sometimes worry that I’m a little bit ADD
  • I pretend to be far more perfect that I really am
  • I give up too easily and avoid conflict too often
  • I am selfish and sometimes forget to ask Leith what he needs and wants
  • I forget to brush my kids’ teeth all the time.  Days go by…
  • I put their hair in ponytails because I’m too lazy to comb through the curly knots
  • I have a really hard time admitting I am wrong, especially when I am embarrassed
  • I’ll spend money on books that I could get from the library for free because I am a book snob and I like being the first to read something, even when we are so flat broke that my husband can’t go for a haircut
  • On that note, I forget to budget for his sometimes-expenses like haircuts but not my own
  • I let my ego identify with too many things when I should just “be”
  • I am proud and stubborn to a fault, and it causes more problems than it’s worth
  • Lately, I’ve been forgetting a lot about what I learned in therapy for controlling my temper and my reactions.  I know better :(
  • I stand up for things I believe in on my blog, but in real life I keep my opinions to myself because I can’t stand conflict
  • I spend far too much time online and not nearly enough outdoors
  • I drink too much wine when it’s available, and that bugs me because I won’t drink it if it’s not in the house, so why do I feel the need to drink it all when it is??
  • The same goes for treats and junk food
  • I say I hate everything that McDonald’s and Wal-Mart stand for, yet I still spend money there.  I hate being a hypocrite and my actions say otherwise
  • I say “no more kids” but the truth is that I’m just terrified of something worse happening to me if I got pregnant again.  At the same time, I know that it’s just my anxiety and that everything would probably be fine
  • “I wish” and “I do” fall very far apart in many areas of my life.  I need to make my actions reflect my words
  • I know a lot about health and nutrition, and yet my own diet and lifestyle say otherwise
  • I am so lazy about feeding my kids!  Yes, it’s all organic and unprocessed, but it can be very unbalanced too
  • It IS hard some days.  Other days, I exaggerate how hard it is
  • Yes, I’ve peed in a swimming pool
  • My minivan is a pit of garbage hell that I have tried to keep clean for a few months, but it’s threatening to creep up on me
  • I always have dirty dishes in the sink and crumbs on the floor.  I rarely vacuum my basement
  • I’m a picker.  I pick at everything.
But do you know what?  Despite all of that, I think that I am still perfect.  I think we are all perfect.  We are all perfect reflections of who we are – it’s just the image we project out into the world that is imperfect.  If I did everything right all the time, it would leave little opportunity for improvement – and without that feeling of accomplishment, life would be pretty bland. 

A near miss…

Oh, the horror. _uacct = “UA-4888259-1″;urchinTracker();

Oh, the devastation!
I nearly lost my baby on Friday night!  And by “baby” I mean this sweet, beautiful laptop, not an actual child of mine.  But it’s a fine line…
My hard drive died.  Like, died died.  There one minute, toast the next.  I was awash in panic.  Let us not speak the price of a new MacBook…  Let us not talk about how we are already pinching pennies for Christmas…  Let us not dwell on the fact that life ceases to exist without my computer…
And let us not speak of the maternity pictures that I’d been editing.
Fortunately, I have the originals backed up and also still on the memory card.  Phew.
So praying the for the best and preparing for the worst, I took my beloved to the Apple store.  With labour, a new hard drive was only $287.  WAHOO!!  But even better?  They dropped the labour AND replaced my chipped keyboard and casing for FREE.  Grand total?  $160-ish. 
Ahhh happiness :)
But here’s the part that really, really sucks: the new plastic smell of my keyboard draws up this olfactory haunting of when my MacBook was new and I was freshly pregnant, sick as a dog and laid up on the couch for 2 weeks after I rolled our quad.
The smell of my almost-new laptop is making my body have phantom morning sickness.  It’s disgusting.  How did I live like this for 34 weeks??  Ughhh…  Then, to boot, today was a hot autumn day.  There is this odd smell that my upholstery lets off – very plasticky and chemically – when it is hot out and my Jeep did the same thing.  I used to nap in the back of my Jeep at the gym when I was pregnant.  That smell, and the laptop smell are the two scents that instantly make me nauseous.  Together on the same day?  Sickening.
Disclaimer: there is no possible way that I am in any way “with child” right now.  Physically impossible.  Just in case you are speculating like a crazy person.  Physically and physiologically impossible.
That being said, I have to stop blogging because this shallow breathing through my mouth is making me dizzy.
But I have a practically new laptop, so it’s all good :)  Here’s to another 3 years of Mac-full bliss!

Consumer conflict

Now, I will fully admit that I have been up on my soapbox a lot this month :)  It’s not that I’m feeling feisty though – I just have had a lot of thoughts running through my mind about everything from parenting to religion to plain old what to eat for dinner!  My dilemma on coffee yesterday brought about an interesting train of thought to my already overburdened head, so you’ll have to forgive me for thinking writing out loud ;) _uacct = “UA-4888259-1″;urchinTracker();


If you are long-time reader of my blog, you will know that I am very passionate about the triumvirate of food in my world: organic, local and clean.  Having read and researched and talked about this for a while now, I know that it is what is best for my family and that with a little bit of work, it could be made right for almost any family.  I mean, after all – isn’t that the kind of food that human beings have survived on for thousands upon thousands of years??  This whole global food system is truly less than a century old.  Don’t get me wrong though – I have yet to find away to eat organic, local and clean 100% of the time.  I try to have most of my food meet at least one of those criterion, if not two.  The home run is great when I can get it, but I’m far from perfect and sometimes I just want to eat marshmallows!

But that isn’t my point today.  Far too much organic, fair trade coffee running through these veins is making me  easily distracted again…

My point is this:  our dollars spent affect change more so than any protesting or preaching will.  Case in point: Greenpeace in the oilsands.  God love ‘em for what they are trying to do, but the point is lost when you realize they had to drive up there … see what I mean?  So when I shop, I want my money to do the talking for where I stand ethically because ultimately, it is the consumer who drives the demand.  I believe in fair trade, I discourage sweat-shop production and I dislike multi-national corporations, but sometimes I am faced with hard choices and feel backed into a corner by my conscience and my pocketbook.  

What really got me thinking is the idea of shopping at Walmart or Superstore, versus my local food store or Farmers’ market.  I try to make a lot of my purchases count locally, whether it be at the markets or simply by shopping a locally owned and operated stores.  There are certain things that I refuse to budge on too – I won’t buy my meat unless I know the farmer, and I will not buy coffee that isn’t fair trade.  No grey area there!  There are times, however, when it makes sense to shop at the discount chains, like when you are comparison shopping for the same item: doesn’t it make more sense to save a few bucks at Superstore on some Crayola crayons, versus paying more for them elsewhere?  But then there are also the things that you go to Walmart or Superstore for because their in-house line is cheaper, and that is where my personal conflict lies:
Now, given the choice I would rather shop local but there are times when it just is not feasible for me!   The biggest dilemma I’ve been facing (which is rather small compared to the woes of the world, but humour me…) has been regarding winter boots for my bugz.  Oh that I wish I could have children of different ages and enjoy the magic of hand-me-downs!!  I would shell out the money for high-quality clothes if I knew they would be worn by 2 or 3 kids, for more than 2 or 3 months before heading to Goodwill.  Alas, these 2 monkeys wear the same size shoes/boots/whatever, which leads me to buying 2 of everything seasonal: 2 bathing suits, 2 spring coats, 2 pairs of rubber boots, 2 pairs of sandals, 2 pairs of snowsuits, 2 pairs of winter boots … 10 million pairs of socks and mittens that get lost … you get the idea.
There are lots of Canada-made companies to outfit my cute little girls, but because of their small market, the prices are, ahem, high.  And rightfully so: they are providing a superior product without it being at the expense of 4-year old slaves in developing countries.  I do splurge here and there on things that I know will last us awhile or that are for special occasions.  When I get right down to it though, I simply cannot afford to buy 2 pairs of $60 boots each winter.  I wish I could, but I quite simply cannot spend $120 on winter boots!  So instead, I find myself bargain hunting through the Walmarts and Superstores for boots that are under $20 a pair.  Even that, dear readers, is a rare find.  $25/pair seems to be the going rate.
Thus, the conflict of conscience versus economy.  Where do I draw the line?  Is it okay to buy them cheap, exploitative merchandise for the benefit of being able to pay the rest of my bills?  Can I soothe my conscience by knowing that I would buy the more ethical merchandise if I were able to use it longer, thus recouping the cost over time?  Or am I just copping out of my ethical standpoint?  Can one “stock up” on good karma in other areas to smooth over the sometimes-necessary transgressions needed to maintain a healthy bank account during lean times, or is it an all-or-none situation?
So much grey.  I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions, or your own solutions to this problem!

1st impressions

So here I am … in Vegas. _uacct = “UA-4888259-1″;urchinTracker();

Sitting in my room at 10:36pm while the city pulses outside my window.
Eating a convenience store muffin and Vitamin water.  Speaking of which, I do believe that “vitamin water” is a total joke and typical marketing cash-grab, but it was that vs pop or over-priced bottled water.
Alone.  So far, I’m not sold on Vegas.  I see too many stumbling, strung-out drunks staggering around to want to go and join the fun of the Vegas nightlife.  It feels like I’m in an Alice in Wonderland version of Whyte Ave.  Maybe it’s Oz.  Either way, it’s familiar but unfamiliar, and not familiar in an enjoyable way.
I’m missing my Leith and my babeez hard right now.  It’s not like this is my first time away from them by any means, but there is this sucking hole in my heart that makes me wish that Leith was at least here.  My constant companion who would drag me out and make me have fun…
Maybe it will be different tomorrow.  I’m planning to hit the outlet malls and spend a little green.  Wednesday through Friday will be eaten up with my conference, and then there is just Saturday left.  I’ll go out Friday night, I guess.
I don’t know … I guess I just expected the energy to be infectious, but instead it’s just suffocating.

Friday 5

Happiness is the return of Derfwad Manor, one of my favourite blogs :)  Add that to Hyperbole and a Half, which has made me laff so hard that tears run down my legs, and the fact that my children are wearing their socks on their hands because it’s funny … well, we’ve got a pretty good Friday going on here today!
So here’s a little Derfwad game for today:
1.  What are you doing this weekend?  I have a maternity shoot tomorrow afternoon, and a lot of packing to do before I leave for VEGAS BABY!!!
2.  Lousiest moment of the week?  My wicked headache last night that has left me feeling nauseous today.  I’m going to the doctor to find out if they’re migraines.
3.  On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your current satisfaction with your hair?  Lol, I love the randomness of this question.  I’d say about a 7.5 – I looooove the colour my sister did, but I need a trim.  I love that I can fit it into a ponytail again though!
4.  Reading a good book you can recommend?  Nope.  I’m on the “can’t find anything worth reading” kick right now.  Anyone have any recommendations for me?  No vampires right now, please.  
5.  If you had $100 to selfishly blow on yourself, what would you buy?  VIBRAM FIVE FINGERS!!!



Now for the taggies:
*Air (since she hasn’t blogged in SIX WEEKS!!)
*Everyone else!

_uacct = “UA-4888259-1″;urchinTracker();

10 bedside companions

I have a hard time falling asleep unless I read before bed.  That being said, we all know that I am a bit of a multi-tasker.  I usually have 2 or 3 books on the go at any given time.  I need to know that there is something waiting for me, regardless of my mood.  For example, right now my beside table is home to: Team by John C. Maxwell, The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari by Robin Sharma, Keeping Faith by Jodi Picoult and The Message - a modern-English writing of the Bible. _uacct = “UA-4888259-1″;urchinTracker();

Ecclectic mix, no?
There are books that I’ve read that have left a deep impression on my heart.  I thought tonight would be a good time to share, what with the long and hot summer days ahead of us.
1.  The Time Traveller’s Wife by Audrey Neffenneger: a beautiful romance novel that is too complicated to give a worthy synopsis, but worth every convoluted second in reading it.  Don’t watch the movie; as much as I love Rachel McAdams, the screenplay was horrible and confusing.
2.  To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee: I read this in Grade 12 English, and I fought through the first two chapters.  I nearly considered copying friends’ assignments for the entire study (a la The Pearl by John Steinbeck, which was the bane of my Grade 9 education…).  Once I was past those introductory pages, however, I was lost forever in the beauty of the book.  It has shaped my compassion in adulthood many times over.
3.  Icefields by Thomas Wharton: Wharton was my English 101 prof, and this debut novel echoes hauntingly of Michael Ondaatje.  Set in historic Jasper, it captured my heart and made me feel like I was walking through a haze of cloudy memories.
4.  The Stone Angel by Margaret Laurence: to see how age affects even the strongest of us … well!  I read an excerpt of this story in Grade 12, and wanted so badly to know the rest.  Much like Mockingbird taught me compassion, The Stone Angel taught me the dangers of stubborn pride – a lesson I never fully realized until this past year!
5.  How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie: the ultimate book on relating to the world around you.  So many lessons and tidbits to chew on.  Take what you will and disregard the rest, but know that this book will change every relationship and interaction you have.
6.  Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver: my favourite author of The Bean Trees (yet another Grade 12 lifetime love) writes beautifully about her family’s attempt to live off the land around them for an entire year.  Inspiring to the very core, it made a cheese-maker and gardener out of me.  It also makes me crave fresh produce in a way that I never had before.
7.  LAMB: The Gospel According to Biff by Christopher Moore: a tongue-in-cheek account of Jesus’ “lost years”, told by his childhood chum Levi, aka “Biff”.  The underlying message of connectedness reminded me of Forrest Gump.  Devout Christians may find the blase humour highly inappropriate, but I found it gave a striking humanity to one of the world’s most beloved people.
8.  A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry: a grimy yet breathtaking view of India.  It moved me deeply, and it is a book that I intend to reread in the future.  The insight into a world so different than my own begs a more thorough study.
9.  The One-Minute Millionaire by Mark Victor Hansen and Jack Canfield: as cheesy as this sounds, this combination fiction and financial self-help book did more to confirm my belief that anything is possible when you are committed to the outcome.  The right-hand pages are dedicated to the story of a mother who must accumulate $1 million cash in 30 days to save her children, whereas the left-hand pages detail the theories used in the fiction.  It made me stop and wonder, “What would I be capable of if everything were on the line??”
10.  In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan:  actually, read anything he writes.  Please.  If Food, Inc. didn’t change your mind about the food you eat, this simple manifesto of real food will get your thoughts turning and hopefully influence you to pay closer attention to the products masquerading as food on your plate.
Happy reading

Skeeters, squirrels and a trip to the ER

I friggen hate mosquitos.  Now, I know that goes against all the Positivity of June, but I Really. Friggen. Hate. Them. _uacct = “UA-4888259-1″;urchinTracker();

What godly purpose do they serve, other than to feed mosquito-eaters and inflict torturous pain on innocent gardeners ME?
Seriously.  
If I’m going to go all organic and grow my own garden and love living in the country, the mosquitos have GOT TO GO.  I can’t spray them with OFF, mostly because of its carcinogenic cocktail but also because of the whole “I don’t use pesticides” thing I have swingin’ over here.  I have never found a citronella candle that worked, and quite frankly think the whole citronella is an Enron-sized scam that will implode one day.
So while I toiled away, hand-sifting 6 inches deep into my garden to remove every grass root for 4-30 feet today, those ungrateful little buggers thought it appropriate to snack on me.  So now, not only am I ridiculously sore from 6 hours of bending/squatting/crouching but I am also awash in the desperate need to SCRATCH.
Moving on to squirrels ….
Ya know how there are certain words that suddenly strike you as very odd-looking??  For me, it’s words like “squat” and “swim”.  Well, in the throes of mosquito-driven hell I suddenly realized that squirrels are very odd creatures. 
I know.  I’ve lost it.  Follow me down the hole…
They’re creepy – the way that deer are creepy because they’re just so blank, but on the opposite end of the spectrum.  I bet a squirrel would unleash some mad ninja skillz if you ticked him off enough.  Come to think of it, we had a couple of vicious, violent squirrels at our campsite in Waterton when I was but a wee child – remember, Mom??  How they would snarl and steal our empty pudding cups??
But they look so cute.  Like gophers with a vengeance to unleash on humanity, given the chance.  Frikken little deranged, psycho-path rodents.  What is UP with that?
And lastly, the ER.
I swore up and down that I would never write about (poop) on my blog.  I have standards, people.  High standards in my ivory tower.  But alas and alack, I cannot avoid this.
I had to take C-boo to emergency on Friday night to get her bum flushed out.  I’m not even joking.  My sweet little 24-pounder had not eaten more than half a meal a day for 10 days (plus the 2 weeks before when she was actually ill), laid on the couch or in bed all day, whimpered and wanted to be held and had an odd lump in her tummy.
Not wanting to wait another 3 days to go to her paediatrician, we went to the Stony Plain hospital at 11pm on Friday.  Poor little Boo sat so quietly, not sleeping at all the whole 3.5 hours.  They decided that she wasn’t ill and sent her for x-rays to see what was going on in there.  
Well!!  Not only was my little Miss a trouper in the x-ray room, but she was an anti-(pooper)!  10 days worth of (poop) backed up in her little body.  She’d lost nearly 2 pounds from lack of appetite (where would she put it??), and in Dr. Teddy’s words, she didn’t “have room for even a wafer.”  His words, not mine.
Colase didn’t work.  A (suppository!) didn’t work.  Finally?  Finally??  They gave her a fleet enema.  Oh.  My.
*shudder*
Let me just leave it at this: when something that should be removed daily-ish is not removed daily-ish, it begins to ferment.
That is all.
That truly is all.  In the words of PW, goodbye forever.

remembering…

If I could have 3 things right now, they would be: _uacct = “UA-4888259-1″;urchinTracker();

  • a working furnace
  • a hot tub
  • the writing skills I had in junior high school
I just spent the better part of an hour awash in poetry and short stories that I wrote in the mid-90s.  Let me tell you this: they were powerful.  How one little body could harbour so much emotion, angst and pain while leading a relatively happy life astounds me!  Some of the works are so powerful, they brought me to tears.  Others made me laugh with their typical teenage drama.  But what I wonder is this: where did that talent disappear to?  Sure, I can still write with a bit of flair (or so I’ve been told), and people seem to enjoy what I have to say but where did that artistic passion go?  When did I stop pouring my soul out onto paper with such beautiful craft??
I felt like an average person staring at an extraordinary masterpiece, unable to comprehend the process by which it was created.  Not saying that my writing was quite that caliber, but it did move me – especially when you consider most of it was written by a 14-year old.  And yet, I remember the words flowing easily and the focus being crisp.  It was effortless and simple to build such emotional imagery.  Am I jaded by age?  What spark was extinguished after high school that left me journal-less and empty of prose or poetry?
I still read voraciously and hungrily.  I still appreciate beautiful literature, but where has my own work gone?  Is it limited to the ramblings of a modern-day blog?  Where does the beauty lie?  I still feel pain, albeit with less angst.  Is that the missing key?  Am I too rational and mature to let my heart bleed through a pen onto paper?
It saddens me – not that my life is fuller, happier and more reasonable now than it was in the throes to adolescence, but that the gift has left me and I sit here today with little more than a good grasp on tone, theme and amazing grammar.
***
what colours do you see?  is the sky blue and the grass green?  the colour of night is black and love is red. unless you are colour blind.  but what if my colours are not your colours?  if i were to put my colours in your mind it might be very psychedelic.  red grass black water green sky  when we are taught our colours we are shown purple and told this is purple.  but in your mind purple might look like my orange.  we know no different because we have only ever seen through our eyes.  what if this is true?  and you wonder why no one thinks like you.  its because they dont think exactly like you.  from our vantage everyone thinks the same way.  but maybe its a clever facade that no one has ever uncovered.  if you think about it how can we?  at this point in time we are not capable of stepping out of our own bodies and into another.  though many fiction writers have tried to imagine it we cant.  sorry.  if this is the case whos to say that it is restricted to colour alone?  a square to you could look like a circle if my mind viewed it through your eyes.  perhaps tall is really short to you.  any number of contradictions could be noted if i stepped into a thousand different eyes.  maybe youre sound is heard idfferently to me.  you ask how this could possibly be overlooked.  here you go its simple.  translation.  like the subtitles of a foreign movie our minds are adapted to translate the views of others into the language we are programmed for.  next time people are confused by you draw a circle and tell them its a square.
~meaghan veinot 29march1997

***

Fallen

a flash out of the 
           corner
of my eye
the left of me
                 my hand
sparkling
   but it doesn’t come
from my
third finger
but my middle
     and it’s tarnished
25dec98