Real Life Lesson - A fly in the pumpkin pie

If there's anything I've learned, it's that it doesn't matter how much you try to make up for being an asshole, the fact remains that you will never be trusted again. Ever. No matter how big or small your transgression.

This isn't a pity party, I'm sincerely giving you my thoughts based on my experiences.

If you have insulted someone, either by accident or on purpose because for half a second in your life you were an asshole, you can never repair that relationship. You will always be considered an ass and you can never make another mistake ever because forgiveness doesn't truly exist. People may say they forgive you but they will never forget how you made them feel. Even if you've made up for it time and again with good things, that one minuscule insult will stay with them forever.

Let's break this down because I can hear you saying, "Wow, she's got a chip on her shoulder over something." I don't. I'm just realizing some truths about my past behaviour and the revelation is there is truly nothing I can do to change someone's opinion of me once they have crafted that opinion in their minds.

Let's say you have some good friends among your coworkers but then you find another job and you move on. How many of them remain friends with you? I guarantee that if you have ever hit a rough patch with any one of them, those are the friends who will quickly become ex-friends. Why? Because people measure the effort it takes to maintain a friendship with how worth it you are to them...and your worth is brought down by any bad thing you have ever done. And by "bad thing" I mean something as little as not agreeing with the majority on an issue, like when everyone gets together for a "best pumpkin pie" contest and you choose not to participate because you don't like pumpkin pie. Well, now you're not a joiner. You're an outcast because you didn't participate and worse than that you have inadvertently insulted anyone who likes pumpkin pie. People will talk about that fun pumpkin pie contest for years to come and will always remind you that you didn't participate because you hate pumpkin pie. No no, you respond, I don't hate it, it's just not my favourite. Years go by and there's a potluck where you are asked to bring dessert but don't worry, says the organizer, you won't be asked to bring pumpkin pie. Ha ha ha. Isn't that funny? No, it isn't really.

Now you are labelled. The pumpkin pie hater. This is a simple example of how you can quickly become the outsider.

Now, you move on from that job and you try to invite friends over for dinner or out for drinks. They accept, initially, but after time they are less and less available. So you stop asking. And one day you find the only connection you have to them anymore is on your Facebook page, where God forbid, you post a picture of a pumpkin cheesecake and your old friend comments, "I thought you hated pumpkin". Face palm. This is the only comment they have put on your page in months because the only thing they remember about you is the one negative thing you did to them. Make no mistake, you did it to them, you insulted them without even knowing it.

In the end, you were the fly in the ointment, all because you didn't play along. Instead, you set your boundaries. And those boundaries will be held against you for the rest of your life.

And one day, out of the blue, you will discover that your old college friends have been having annual summer reunions that you have never been invited to...and you won't know why.

WRITE a PAGE - Day 5

I have been fortunate all of my life to always have an animal companion. A cat or dog, bird or fish. Even, at one time, a pet rat. I have found enjoyment, albeit differently, with each and every one of them. I currently have three cats, a dog, two fishtanks and a desire to get a rabbit. I know that's not going to happen, we have too many animals as it is, but the desire to connect with nature is ingrained in me and it is something I hope I never deny.

I won't bore you with the animals I have had in the past, they have been numerous, but I do want to talk about one in particular. I had a dog named 'Magic'. She was an oversized sheltie, sable in colour, and she was a gentle and loving dog. She didn't particularly like kids but her innate herding sense always made her want to keep them in line so nipping at their asses was occasionally called for. Human parents don't appreciate that sort of behaviour in a dog.

Magic was an extremely intelligent dog and after about 6 months of living with me, she realized that I was an okay human with which to hang out. She would walk with no leash, never wandered and was not a squirrel-chaser. I trusted her and she listened to me. I learned all of the commands she knew and with a little coaching from a friend who trained dogs better than I knew how, I learned to think a bit like a dog so I could give Magic better directions.

After a few years together Magic and I became best friends. Even on days when I wasn't feeling up for a long walk, she waited patiently, never peed in the house, and was always a faithful companion. My little Lassie-girl. It was a love affair and I miss her to this day.

I have thought many times that I could never love another dog again. And then an 80 pound husky mix came into my life. He loves me more than I deserve. He tucks his chin against my chest when he's worried about me. He puts his paw in my lap to alert me when he needs to go out, or be fed, or when his water bowl is empty, or to apologize for chasing the cats. He's very smart. He's not my dog, he belongs to my partner, but he loves me and protects me just the same.

If I could just remember how to think more like a dog, I would be able to love him as much as he loves me. I'm working on that. I already know how to think like a cat and a fish. They are companions too. But honestly, I think that dogs think more like humans than we realize. And once I figure that out, I'll be able love a dog again.

WRITE a PAGE - Day 4

That's right, there's no Day 3. What happened to Day 3, you ask? Day 3 is what happens when you join a gym on January 1st, go for a week and then stop. My Day 3 gym stoppage happened very early but this is a good thing. Because being a Virgo and hating anything that doesn't follow a pattern, I am now committed to not missing a day. So, here goes.

I am sipping coffee in my living room and just a few feet away sits the chilly outdoors. We have been in a deep freeze for the last few days after spending two weeks battling an on-again off-again ice storm and it has not been particularly fun. I love winter but not when the windchill is -37. Now I am looking at my waving Canadian flag that is attached to the deck. It's shredded. I am sad to see my flag in such a state. It wasn't like that just a few short months ago.

Once a flag gets to this state, it's time to let it go.

I am also thinking of the man who co-created the Canadian flag, John Matheson, along with Lord Stanley (of Stanley Cup fame) in 1965. Matheson created the Order of Canada, honouring exceptional Canadians and he was a Justice in the Ontario Court of Justice. What a guy! In Kingston, we named an entry point to the airforce base after him, the Matheson gate. Unfortunately, he passed away last week at the age of 96. He was a Canadian icon, just as much as Tommy Douglas, who created our health care system and was (arguably but verified by a tv show that polled Canadians) the greatest Canadian who ever lived. Matheson, unlike the flag he created, is irreplaceable.

The question is, where to get a new flag, because I can and should honour the man who created it as well as the country it represents. I know that the flag that flies on top of Parliament Hill is changed out every day. That flag flies for one day. Then they raise a new flag. The old flags are put into a rotation and given out to the public. You can go on the list and they will tell you when you get your flag. It's usually about a 20 year waiting list.

I can't wait 20 years but I'm on the list anyway.

Instead, I will get a new flag this spring and fly it anew. At least until the next ice storm.

WRITE a PAGE - Day 2

Day 2 is probably harder to write than any other day in a 365 day writing challenge. Day 1 is easy, you simply declare that you intend to write every single day of the year. You may even think about events that will come over that year, which will inspire you to write. I have a big family so roughly 15 or so days are already taken up there. I have lots of friends, so again, they provide fodder for my writing. And I even have anniversary days that will be relatively easy to write about. But Day 2, that's a tough one.

On Day 2, it's time to establish the continuation of that original thought. On Day 1 you state that you WILL write. You WILL write about interesting things. On Day 2 you'd better come up with something interesting. Challenge accepted.

Did you know that Christmas isn't technically over? Today, January 2nd, is actually the 8th day of Christmas. That's right, the twelve days of Christmas BEGIN on December 25th. They don't end on December 25th. The biggest misconception ever to be perpetuated by the commercialization of Christmas.

Christ was born, the star of Bethlehem shone over the manger so the wise men could make the twelve day trek to find him. The twelve days of Christmas begin after the child is born. How the heck could the twelve days of Christmas happen before the miracle of His birth? Who are they bringing gifts to? Nobody knows He is the chosen one until after He is born.

Quick and painless biblical lesson: on the first day of Christmas, a child is born. On the twelfth day of Christmas, everyone knows about it and this is the Epiphany. Oh, I've had an epiphany! A miraculous thought! A revelation! The world is a better place because I/He/we/you/us are in it!!

A miracle. Yes, you are.

WRITE a PAGE - Day 1

On New Year's Eve 2013 (yesterday), I came across a photo whose intention is to motivate people to write. Here it is.

So my new blog series is "WRITE a PAGE - Day #" with the # being the day of the year. A challenge to say the least. An impossibility if you know my track record with New Year's resolutions. Lose weight, finish my degree, keep a diary, write a book, take up a new hobby, finish an old hobby. Etcetera etcetera.

I've lost weight, gained it back, taken a course or two but not always toward the completion of a degree, kept a diary for a week or so then conveniently lost my pen. The list goes on. About the only thing I have managed to do over the years, consistently, is work toward writing a book. I have several manuscripts, okay partial manuscripts, but I have never failed to have a plan for completion of the ever elusive book.

My motivation seems not to have waned over the years so what is holding me back? I suspect a few things. First, there are only 24 hours in a day. This will never change so long as we observe a calendar and use watches to signal the beginning and end of things...like days. Second, my body needs sleep. Again this is something that will never change. I can, however, alter the number of hours that my body lays at rest but I tend to follow Newton's first law of motion, which is a body at rest tends to stay at rest. Once my body rests, it rests for an indeterminate amount of time. Or until my alarm goes off, signalling the start of a new day and then that 24 hour thing kicks in again.

Thirdly, and finally, I don't like being told what to do. I mean, who does? And so, even if I am the one telling me what to do, I defy me and in so defying me, I am victorious over that force which is trying to make me do the things I don't want to do. But wait, I want to write. So if I tell myself to write and this is the one thing I desire to do with my time, then why do I rebel against myself? Okay, I think I have just discovered a rift in the space-time continuum. 

I'm going to have to work on this. I can't tell myself what to do because I won't do it. Nobody else can tell me what to do because I won't do it. So how the hell do I do anything? Maybe if I start with a little blog and write something down every day. Just a little thing, like a thought or an idea. Like an idea for a book!! By jove, I think I've got it. One day at a time, one step at a time, one word at a time.

And so, I present my first page of 2014. Okay, so if you got to this point you've already read it. Thank you for reading my first page of 2014. Have a great year!!

50 is the new Black

And so I turned 50.

I thought it was going to come with a lot more pomp and circumstance. It is, after all, a milestone. I thought it would have its own parade and that it would come into my life with as much noise as a baby making its way into the cold, bright world. But alas, I was somewhat disappointed. Not because I didn't get a party, because I did. My family gave me a wonderful party and a Keurig. I got a Keurig for my 50th birthday. I wanted a Keurig and I got one. It's awesome.

No, the party was by no means a disappointment.

I think I had this notion of where I would be in my life at the age of 50. Perhaps I even had an idea of who I would be by the time I reached this ripe, not-so-young age. Given that as a teenager, I thought no further into my future than a week or so, maybe a month if Christmas was coming but I definitely did not imagine me at 50. And yet, here I am.

Do I have kids? No. And by extension, no grandkids. Did I expect to have either? Yes.

Do I own a house? Yes. Is it paid for? No. Did I expect to be close to burning my mortgage? Yes. Am I? No.

Am I in a relationship? Yes. Am I married? No. Did I expect to be married? Yes.Will that happen? I don't know the answer to that question, just like when I was half my age...no idea. Do I feel that I should have an idea of marriage at this age? Yes.

Let's see, other milestones. Do I have a retirement plan? Yes. Will it be sufficient when I retire? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.Oh...oh...don't make me laugh. That hurts.

I have solved the "no kids" problem by enjoying the company of my niece and nephews and now, their kids. I get kick out of being with a four year old for about an hour. Then I get tired. I am 50 after all. Even if I had kids late, they'd be teenagers by now (or nearly).

The house won't be paid for until I'm 70 unless I win the lottery...more about that later. Between now and then I will try to unpack all the boxes.

There is definitely a man in my life. He sleeps in my bed, eats my food and calls me honey. He's cool. If I don't kill him I'll consider it a successful relationship.

My retirement plan is a series of lottery tickets and wanting to become a famous writer. I'm pretty sure I have to become an alcoholic first since most famous writers had a problem with the drink and I want to be famous. Really famous...which means liver damage. I'm not much of a drinker so this is going to be a toughie.

Next up is 60. I think if I make it to 60, I'll want another party. And maybe a new Keurig, it depends on how long this one lasts. And a big bottle of Bailey's to pour in the coffee. Happy birthday to me...happy birthday to me...happy birthday dear meeeeeee....happy birthday to me! And many more...

The Pine Cone Dilemma

While we were golfing in Shallotte, North Carolina we came across some very interesting critters, not the least of which was a pine cone the size of a football. I decided to bring it home with me. The Canadian border agent had other ideas. She saw it in the back of the car, said we had to do a U-turn back to the US and toss it into the woods before we could enter Canada.

The US border agent's deadpan response when we explained why we needed access to his country for 3 seconds was, "Pine cones fall from trees." I think his between the lines message was "What the fuck, you crazy-ass Canucks!" He suggested we toss it in a garbage can at the Duty Free. We did.

Back at the Canadian border less than 5 minutes after our first attempt at re-entry, the previously ornery agent greeted us with a smile and a, "Well, hello again!" We told her what we did. She let us enter Canada safe in the knowledge that she had protected our country from the dreaded North Carolina pine cone of death.

To those of you who have collected bags full of pine cones and brought them home to use for Christmas crafts or other sundry purposes, you should be ashamed that you released pine cones on innocent citizens. Now Canada is only safe for Americans who know how to handle this horrific threat to life and limb. I think I'll go buy a gun. But what will I use for target practice?