Showing posts with label cappuccino. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cappuccino. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

over 30 random facts about me


Time for some levity, so this blog will be chocked full of irrelevant things you probably didn't know about me, and were still able to live happy, fulfilling lives.

my 'jewel' is green and dangles

  • I have a tiara. Not a plastic pink one, but a shiny bronze one with one very small jewel. It's difficult to find in my hair if it's curly, but I know it's there and that's what counts. I bought it for myself. I realize this goes against my ego slimming mediation and yoga practice, but I'm okay with that, so far. Raj (my meditation coach and yoga teacher), if you're reading this (which is not likely, I  don't think he is the blog reading type), it's best you find out now that I'm  superficial and vain and hopelessly attracted to shiny things.

actual size MUCH larger



  • I have a scar on my bum from a very large pair of sewing scissors that my grandmother had left in a big cushy chair that I flung myself into -wearing a brand new pair of blue corduroy pants - when I was 14years old. They got stuck, and I was so mortified about having scissors in my in my bum that I hopped up and ran to the bathroom and pulled them out myself. I should have had stitches, but my 14year old dignity could not have endured that so I did my own first aid, first to my butt, and then to my new pants. To this day I have never told anyone in my family, and my grandmother went to her grave not knowing the humiliating injury I suffered in her home. I have to say I wasn't very skilled at either, and the pants looked very poorly mended and the scar remains, although the nearby hip replacement scar is much more impressive.



  • I talk to my pets, my plants - indoor and outdoor, not because it is good for them, but because I can't help myself. I also talk to my car, my bed (mostly terms of endearment when I crawl into it at night), many inanimate objects, and because I'm Canadian I say "thank you" to bank machines, and "sorry" to sentient and non-sentient, animate and inanimate things. 
  • Growing up I wanted to be a Veterinarian, (and an Artist, but could never imagine making my living with Art, I wish now I had tried to at least) but there were only a few schools in Ontario, and they were difficult to get into. I went into science instead, and after my Biology degree I studied Nursing, which I loved, and filled my life with many, many animals. 
  • I can't work as a nurse in this country because bureaucratic obstacles, so I'm looking at going back to school.




  • My car's name is Laverne. She's a 13year old Honda Accord with almost 250,000km ( 150,000miles in American) on her. She is the best behaved 13year year female I have ever known, and I adore her. I have put bumper stickers on her that leave no doubt that I am a "liberal-la-la, hippie-tree-hugging-granola-eating freak.



  • I secretly yearn for an opportunity to use my "Nearly-Ninja" Hapkido skills on real life bad guys. I swear I'm a pacifist, but just one punch, or a kick or two... is that too much to ask? 



  • I've been learning to sing for the last year because 40 years ago my Brownie leader told me to mouth the words when we sang - I was forever scarred and certain that I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but this year thanks to a friend and a marvelous voice instructor I have done what would be unthinkable for me. I sang, by myself, in front of an audience (okay, a very small audience of fellow singers, all much better trained than I, but still, an audience). I shook like a leaf and it gave my voice great vibrato, the total body red blotchy rash was a little trickier to explain. It was terrifying and exhilarating, and I'd do it again, hopefully with less shaking and blotchiness. For the full story of my singing career see here


my hair if left to its own devices
  • I fuss way too  much about my hair. It's a Leo thing I've been told, still it's way more important to me than it should be (Raj, I really hope you're not reading this - my zen like facade is fading fast...). I do have a friend, and occasionally my kids who know this, and give me encouraging complements about how fabulous my hair looks on any given day. I'm not sure these comments are completely sincere, but hey, I'm always happy to receive them.
  • I'm a Leo, and a Dragon and a Number 1 in Numerology - ergo I'm vain, stubborn, bossy, fabulous, loyal, fiery, passionate, susceptible to complements, love presents, glitter and all things shiny.




  • I have been taking photographs my whole life, and was a late convert to digital, I still prefer the look you get from film, especially black and white. 
  • I also draw, paint, sculpt, collage, zen doodle, doodle doodle, make jewelry, make multimedia pieces ( mixed media is my favourite - it's like cooking, with art)
  • I love to cook, meal preparation, however, is not my favourite.
  • my favourite meal is one that someone cooks for me, past that I'm not too fussy (well... no eggs or bananas, and pineapple on pizza is just wrong) 
Steps onto soap box
 these opinions are entirely my own, and you may disagree with some or all them, and that's fine with me, but this is my blog, so you're going to get my opinions (with and without the tiara)
  • I don't eat pork unless I can find humanely raised meat (I love bacon, and miss it), this is the case with beef and chicken as well. I believe eating something that was treating badly, or terrified when it was killed is bad for my karma/soul/humanity, and also those involved in producing such meat.
  • I am Pro-Life for my own body, so far, but that is a Choice I make for myself, I think every woman deserves to be able to make this choice for herself and I would never force my belief on another woman. Men legislating woman's bodies should be run out of office and have their testicular contents publicly examined and critiqued.
  • I believe Capital Punishment is morally wrong and damages the souls/karma/humanity of all of those who are involved in ending another's life. Also those who are on death row are a disproportionately low income African Americans who had less than adequate legal representation. 
  • I think a society that proposed to legislate a woman's body, legally kill adults who are no longer a threat, and eats food from animals that were inhumanely treated is seriously flawed and backwards and should not be tolerated. As a first world nation with so much of the world's wealth, and so much power, we should be embarrassed and ashamed of such arkaic behaviours.
  • I think that, regardless of gender, two people in a loving committed relationship should be able to marry. I think it is ridiculous that this is even a debate.
  • I think the witch hunt for immigrants of Mexican decent is something we should be ashamed of as a country. I am an immigrant, but am treated well because I am white, this double standard is simply another form of racism cloaked in cowardly legislation.

am now steps off of soap box


  • I write poetry. More specifically I read, write, live and breathe and think in poetry. I started about 10years ago, no idea why. 
  • Okay, change that - my astute friend David pointed out what got me started. I discovered Viggo Mortensen as an actor (and thought wow! hot!), found out he wrote poetry (and all sorts of really attractive things that I mention further down) and thought WOW REALLY HOT, and after I read his poetry I thought I'd like to try it. I then read more poetry, and wrote more poetry and it has been a continuous cycle ever since. 
  • I should add all the poets I love, but this blog is already long enough; I DID meet Franz Wright a poet I love and THAT was awesome, and I once exchanged Mary Oliver quotes with Sister Helen Prejea, the nun who wrote "Dead Man Walking"and I was bouncing around clapping my hands like a fool for days after that. 
  • David Whyte is the hottest poet alive, and I would LOVE (LOVE, LOVE) to go on one of his poetry tours through Ireland.
  • Don't get me started on authors I adore.
  • I've been published and had two promises of a book fall through, (not much money in books of poetry) so I am still keeping my day job. Neruda says it best (love Neruda)



Poetry

And it was at that age . . . poetry arrived
man with a horse = sexy
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, not silence,
but from a street it called me,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among raging fires
or returning alone,
there it was, without a face,
and it touched me.


Irish man who reads Neruda aloud =sexy
I didn't know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind.
Something knocked in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first, faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing;
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
wrote gorgeous poetry = DAMN sexy
the darkness perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire, and flowers,
the overpowering night, the universe.

And I, tiny being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss.
I wheeled with the stars.
My heart broke loose with the wind.



Old Spice Guy on a horse, still sexy

  • Nothing is sexier than a man with an accent reading Neruda
  • A man on a horse is almost as sexy as a man reading Neruda
  • A man on a horse reading Neruda would just be overkill, but I'd still be willing to listen


  • I LOVE Horses, I love their grace, strength, beauty personalities (well not all personalities). One day I will own my own and ride everyday.

  • I LOVE being beside large bodies of water, and one day will have a small home near the water, with my horse, dogs and cats. Ideally the ocean, but any large lake will do.

  • I study Hapkido, Yoga (Hatha, Kriya, Svaroopa, Iyengar, and Kundalini), Meditation (Mindfulness, Guided, Mantra, Focused and Movement), and Tai Ji. I read books by the Dalai Lama, Pema Chodron, and Thích Nhất Hạnh, and am still not even slightly Zen like.





maybe  I'm more Zen like than I thought..
  • I want to swim and scuba dive near dolphins and whales.
  • I love being scared on Roller Coasters, in horror movies, and in books. I get right into it and jump, scream and punch those poor sods who are sitting close to me.
  • I purposefully make myself do things that frighten me, like singing, and Improv Acting, and going down into caves etc, and generally love what I discover about myself after doing that thing that frightened  me. 
  • Going into underwater caves is still RIGHT OUT, but sky diving is not....

her face is nicer, but my arms look lke this
  • I apologize to any bugs I kill - not silverfish though - but mostly I carry outside things like moths and spiders.

  • I am in the best physical shape that I have ever been in, and weigh less than when I got married - my measurements, if I could remember them, are likely quite different.
  • I hate my nose.
  • I read Tarot cards and Palms, and I have a real crystal ball (not that I use it for anything but decoration, but one day.....)
  • I cry when other people cry, at movies, during tv shows, the odd commercial, when I watch live performances, while reading, and when really happy - my kids tolerate this weakness gracefully (read: groan and roll their eyes)


  • I ADORE Gustav Klimt's  work.  I love art, and believe it's necessary to live.
  • Beethoven (and hundreds more musicians) gives me goosebumps. 
  • Musicians are my Rock Stars, okay lame, but anyone who can play an instrument, compose music or teach music is pretty damn awesome.




  • I have a serious crush on Viggo Mortensen, who, would appear to be the perfect man - poet, father, painter, social activist, multilingual, musician (band with his son, how cool is that?), horse lover/owner, photographer, actor, publisher - what's not to love? Also, he is pretty easy on the eyes. His fatal flaw? He is a Montreal Canadiens fan, but I'm sure he'd get over that for me....



  • I have a bionic hip - okay a plain titanium one with no special powers, the other one may need replacing too, but I am putting it off as long as possible. Having a metal hip gets me the full body pat down at airports.
  • I am excellent at falling for complete narcissistic, misogynistic jerks, usually ones with an accent - Irish or Spanish so far.
  • I feel guilty about not being able to provide well enough for my kids.

  • I am fiercely proud that I am Canadian, and may move back there when my kids are finished school here.




  • I sleep with 6 pillows, a couple of cats, and a large greyhound named Fezzik (he sleeps in his own bed and spends the night farting and slurping)
  • I get migraines and they have caused 16 mini-strokes in my brain, and a pixel sized blind spot in my right eye. I always wonder if I'm having mid-age memory glitches or having another little stroke. So far I've held it at 16 and am generally compliant with my neurologist, except for the Hapkido part (my hip surgeon shakes his head as well...)
  •  I'm left handed, left eyed, left eared and my legs, I think, are ambidextrous, although when sparring, I kick more with my right leg. My left brain is likely the size of a raisin and gets bullied by my right brain. I process everything visually - which makes it nearly impossible for someone to give me directions over the phone.
  • I have an excellent sense of misdirection (or a terrible sense of direction, but I prefer to focus on the positive)
  • Six years ago I was in a major rollover car accident - it rolled 5 or 6 times and caught fire - I managed to crawl out with only minor injuries and some really cool scaring on my left elbow which apparently hit the ground with each revolution.

  •  I have a larger than average head. I broke a board with my head once - something I did not share with my neurologist.

  • I've broken lots of boards with my hands and feet, I think my Martial Arts teacher likes to show people that if this middle aged woman and break boards, just think what you could do....

  • I write, sing, read, eat chocolate (dark only), drink coffee and laugh every day.
  • I stay up too late, and get up too early - hence the love of coffee - when I was in Belgium whenever they brought you a coffee they brought a little cookie, cake or piece of chocolate with it, that's what I call a country with it's priorities in the right place.


  • I want to inspire people, I'm just not sure how to do that yet.



Sunday, February 19, 2012

People Don't Behave, or Is There Another Adult in the House?

Runners are irritating.

Not in general, just specifically at 7am Saturday mornings at my downtown Starbucks, where a large group of them commune before heading out en mass for their morning mutual endorphin rush. They don't buy coffee, who needs it with utility belt loads of little Goo Gell bottles strapped around their Spandex bound bodies in a manner that would make Batman jealous? One by one their gang accrues, the front door constantly opening to admit yet another Spandex garbed member. My seat by the window gets a constant chilling breeze, which on it's own is not so bad, but my extra dry cappuccino in the lovely porcelain cup lightly sprinkled with chocolate is cooling at a faster rate than I would like.  This is suppose to be my morning getaway. When I have to drive my son in for his early Saturday morning detentions, something that is fast becoming a weekend tradition for us, I like to find something soothing for me to do while I wait to pick up my increasingly truant boy. Having long been on a first name basis with his guidance counselor and the school social worker, this year I am adding his Dean to my frequent call and email list.  So, when I arrive, at 7am to what is suppose to be a quiet escape in a coffee shop to mull over my overwhelming parenting responsibilities it would be nice to do so without a parade of Spandex covered backsides.

I am not, strictly speaking, a single parent, but I am the one that organizes, delivers and cares for most/all aspects of each of my three teenagers busy lives. I keep things running smoothly, but with an exponentially increasing load I have become exhausted with being the one in charge, the one who bears the brunt of their frustrations, and the one who has, bit by bit, given up chunks of my life to make sure my family is taken care of. I sound like an overwrought soccer mom. I'm not. My kid's extracurricular activities are a drop in the bucket, what is spreading me thin is the four nights a week of  three hour outpatient therapy with the 30 minute drive there and back that I take my son to, the 3 meetings a week he also goes to, the life coach and social worker appointments, the continuing dialogue with his teachers, counselors and Dean, and yes, I get him to Hapkido 2 or 3 times a week. And this does not include dealing with the defiant, difficult, manipulative and confusing behaviour at home that comes with living with a newly recovering addict. This is just one of my children. My worries for the other two would likely feature more prominently in my mind if I could manage it. As it is my oldest is becoming the stunt mom for my youngest, getting her to appointments and activities. My oldest, who is spending her first year of college at the local junior college and living at home; something I thought was a huge failure on my part, has become a lifesaver for me these last 6 very difficult months. So. Is it too much to ask, that when I find 2hours for myself, abet early on a Saturday morning when I really could use the sleep, for my sanctuary not to be overrun by endorphin junkies?  This is a place for caffeine junkies, a place where I can purchase a 500 calorie pumpkin scone and pick all the icing off while I scribble madly in my journal. The place for $200 running shoes, TMI Spandex and utility belts is the park around the corner, go there and do your pre-run cluster, and leave curmudgeonly me to my warm quite cafe.

Eventually they leave, nearly freezing me with the door held open for the mass of them to exit. They'll be back, red faced and, smug and steaming sweat from their moisture wicking active wear into my drama free coffee drinking refuge, where I have come to get away from all things annoying (read: people who do not behave the way I would like). I do not say anything as I look up sulkily from my coffee foam at the irritating  runners; they are a safer target for my frustrations. The thing that sends me running (ironic word choice) from my warm bed out into this cold morning so I could be anywhere but home, where I could be somewhere where I'm not the one who has to "mend lives", where I could have a moment before I am drawn back by their "pitiful cries" is sitting in a detention room at the school now, are at home in warm beds, is NOT here, except that I bring them with me. Like the Ghost of Christmas Present, they are the pitiful things clinging to my legs that I constantly carry. The runners have not had me out of my bed after midnight driving around in my pajamas searching, they have not dumped all their collective angst on me, they do toss thoughtless comments my way, that is why it is easier, right now, to spend my frustration on them. They are just as oblivious to the good I try to do, to how I work myself to stuporous exhaustion, that if I eat, I do it standing while accomplishing other tasks, to the fact that I am driving, always driving, just as oblivious to this as my family.


The Journey
by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.


It was pointed out to me recently that "we carry our burdens alone, and if we are really lucky, maybe with a friend or family member". This idea has been bouncing around in my head and more and more, and I realize it is true. That I am alone in this, to wish for it to be different is to invite disappointment; expectations are just resentments waiting to happen after all. For all intents and purposes I have no extended family, and the friends I have here are busy with their own lives. This makes me sad but also relieved. If I am alone, I can stop putting on the "Happy Mask", can stop having the 30second "how are you coping conversations". I can put my head down and 'chop wood and carry water', or as it translates in my life, drive, feed, organize, counsel and "mend their lives". I hope I will be softer from this suffering, I hope this will not make me brittle with resentments from unrealistic expectations. One day this will change, everything does, and I will be changed as well. One day I will walk out on that road. One day I will be able to see the stars, to hear my own voice. One day, I hope.


 I hope.