Things that deserve the stink-eye:

whatever it is my bathroom towels are looking at. They are clearly not amused.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Local hotel ad

Is this offer clever or concerning? I can't decide.

Sometimes Time

Sometimes I wish I could freeze time.

No. I want to pause time then replay it when needed so I can relive it and so could everyone else in the memory...but then would it just be a photograph?

Better yet, what if I could stretch time? Or hold an intermission during time? At least a breathing time?

No, I want to amend time. Why pause it? Why not capture it along with a variety of other forming memories and make wine out of it and cork it? Then I could sip it when I need it, when I'm lonely, when I'm missing the ones I love.

No, maybe what I really want to do is mend time. I don't mean fix. I want to sew moments together like a quilt and crawl underneath, grow warm there. If only this were possible.

No...what I want to do is bookmark time. Return to that page. Show it those who need to see it so they can see where I'm coming from, why I have the point of view I do. And to share it too.

If only I could punctuate time. Add a comma to slow it down, a dash to speed it onward, a period to stop, or a semi-colon to wait for a while for the inevitable.

Sometimes I don't know what I want. Sometimes time is cruel.

This is my hood:

Um, thanks for this important information about...

(Perhaps your ink ran? Or perhaps this is some advertising ploy to force me to return to this pole sign again and again and again like some puppet until you share the info you're playing hard to get with? And if so, how very dastardly of you indeed.)

Things one should never outgrow:

I need one of these rollers to crush things and then examine them afterward. I also need a wood chipper. Which begs the question: where are the reality shows about these types of machines?

Anyway, this is less about psychology (anger issues or abandonment or entitlement and the like) and more about curiosity. Big machinery is cool; okay, perhaps there is a power dynamic at play: I might want to crush Donald Trump's ego.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

jellied salad.

Who first put jelly and salad together? And why? (Things I think about instead of sleeping.)

Just so you know, the answer is no.

Is anything not weird?

No. Anything interesting is weird. Isn't our society finally tired of demonizing so-called weird? Why do we resist embracing the weird? Consider nature for example. Every Spring, Pussy Willows basically grow fur. And then when they flower? Well, it looks like tiny corn cobs exploding in slow motion. And it's awesome.

"I'm one of those regular weird people." Janis Joplin

Dear Extroverts,

It’s true. You dominate our culture with your social swagger, your big personalities. Yet at least 4/10 people are introverts. Therefore we introverts would like to share our thoughts. First, some definitions.

Extrovert: typically an assertive, multi-tasker and risk-taker, who enjoys social situations and characteristically thinks out loud.

Introvert: typically enjoys quiet concentration, listening more than talking, thinking before speaking, and taking a cautious approach to risk.

No disrespect but since you can’t interrupt us right now, following are some specifics about us introverts.

1.       We like people but we need to be alone to recharge our batteries.

2.       We like earphones. If there were an earphone for the entire body, we would like that.

3.       Despite this, we are usually good listeners.

4.       When it comes to friendship, less is much more; this is sometimes hard for extroverts to understand.

5.       Introverts are not characteristically shy; it’s just that our default setting is quiet (usually).

6.       When people cancel social plans with us, we glow inside.

7.       Never EVER surprise us with a party.

8.       We can act like extroverts when needed but it can be exhausting.

9.       We are not afraid to lead or take control but we prefer to do so quietly.

10.   We thrive behind the scenes.

11.   Extroverts are more motivated by rewards than we are.

12.   Introverts enjoy being appreciated for what they can bring to the group rather than for who they are in the group.

13.   Widely reported famous introverts include J.K. Rowling, Clint Eastwood, and Steve Martin. So yes, cowboys and comedians can be introverts too.

14.   We do not think we are better than others; in fact, we sometimes feel shame for not being extroverted.

15.   We are dreamers; we think too much.

16.   We don’t want to be cured of this.

17.   It’s not funny when you send a stranger over to talk to us.

18.   Hermit? Don’t go there.

19.   YOLO? No.

20.   A pack of introverts is called a library. 

Sometimes

Sometimes one sentence says so much. And no period is needed because it won't stop anyway.

Sometimes it's hard to think about anything but that one thing that's missing.

Sometimes all the wonders can be overwhelming.

Sometimes blank paper invites the deepest conversations we have with ourselves.

Sometimes, if I listen carefully, I can hear the past run up the stairs.

Change

I remember thinking she was really thin. Pale too. Sickly? There was something else too. And then the cashier asked her for like, $36.74, and when she kindly joked that she wanted to pay with spare change, I suddenly realized who she was: my Mom.

Well, not really my Mom because my mother died last year. Yet this woman was the right age and the right build and the right look. Plus she wore a hat, definitely function over fashion, just like my Mom did. And she wasn’t joking. Despite the four other people in line, she was determined to use all her coins. And so she counted them out: toonies, loonies, quarters, dimes, nickels. Just like my Mom would do sometimes. And it was kind of funny. And also annoying. Especially when she realized she didn’t have enough change so she inquired if she could pay the difference with her debit card. Distracted by this little spectacle, this little gift of something like a memory that seemed to be somehow entirely made for me, my impatience faded and I smiled and positioned myself fully in the moment. I suspect everyone else in that cashier’s line seethed but I was tickled to see her again if only in the form of a stranger.

I know how memory works. Science says this experience is the type of memory triggered by recognition. In other words, something familiar unconsciously triggers recall and when this happens we live in the then and the now, sort of straddling two worlds, a sort of re-imagination rather than a remembering.

I like that. I like that there’s a diary inside us all, a journal we can never quite read the same way twice. And life, like a gust of wind, sometimes opens it quite unexpectedly. And when it opens, it loosens, it undoes, it unfurls, it unwinds, it airs. 

Lessons

source

My Dad would be in his late 70s now. I can’t imagine how grumpy he'd be. On a scale of irritated to livid, he was all of them some days in those last several years. (As I age, I aim to avoid grumpy old fart syndrome.) Despite this, there have been times in this last decade when I missed him like a little kid. Which is odd, because as a little kid, I never missed him. He was always working. It’s just the way it was. I saw him at supper time. Sometimes. Occasionally, we would watch TV together. Mostly though, I watched TV while he slept. In my teen years he would take me for a drive. I’m fairly certain now that he was trying to fix something about me because we were absolutely and completely different in almost every way. Plus, I was nothing like his other sons. It worried him. I enjoyed those drives though. And depending on my mood, I learned to do two things: either jack up his blood pressure by broaching taboo topics or just nod so as to avoid disappointing him so much.

In my adult years I learned the mature thing was to steer the subject away from the grumpy stuff. It didn’t always work. Eventually, certain topics were totally banned:

a.       politics

b.      politicians

c.       political ideology

d.      various Fords that had betrayed him.

Not long before he died he and I installed a screen door together and when we finished he said, "There. Now we can quit fighting." That surprised me. Where did he get that idea? We weren't fighting; we were just disagreeing. After thinking about it for a while I realized the truth but I didn’t have the heart to tell him: he was mostly fighting with himself. Despite grumpy periods, my Dad taught me things I still think about and I’m certain he would find it silly and unfortunate which things actually stuck with me:

• Pepper puts hair on your chest. So does sauerkraut.
• If you pick your nose and eat it, flies will grow in your stomach. (My favourite.)
• Women should not be skinny.
• Travel.
• Fly.
• If it’s truly a good Western, at some point a woman should punch a man.
• You don’t need a drink.
• You're not as good as your brothers. 
• A brand new vehicle is probably a waste of money.
• Insurance is a scam.
• Don’t be mean to girls.
• Driving fast is worth the risk.
• Some people don’t pay their bills but you always will.
• Give your kids whatever they want.
• Never let go of your fishing rod.
• Help your neighbours, even the ones who are idiots.
• Hard work is all there is.

At least for some of these lessons, thank you Dad. 

?

This is a board game?

Worry-warts rejoice. (Actually it sounds fun if there are zombies in addition to those killer bees. Uh oh...I just had a thought...zombie killer bees. Whoa.)

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Um, a both impressive and disturbing display, I encountered this performance art-piece (?) outside a grocery store so let's hope it's less urine and more someone's "leaky" orange juice.

(Get it? Leaky. Sorry.)

My life in 6 words...

I have grown my Dad's eyebrows.

Wordfuse

Like morning breath, but my face. Just staring at me. Looking like I just smelled the worst fart ever. But no one farted. It's just the way my face wakes up in the morning now. All scrunched. The opposite of fresh. AKA get-off-my-lawn face. A total bummer. And it lasts all day. All. Day.

Sheesh.

Fill your boots?

Fill your boots lately?

Well you should. If this phrase reminds you of those kid days when it seemed somehow quite necessary and important to trek into giant mud puddles just to test how far you could go before your boots were filled, that is not really what I mean. (Although that is fun too.) Instead, I refer to blogger Jules Sherred's recent research into Canadianisms which introduced me to my new favourite phrase: fill your boots.

Sherred's research highlights some mostly Canadian words and phrases I expected including toque (100% Canadian), homo milk, keener and the infamous (?) hoodie vs kangaroo jacket vs bunny hug debate. But along with a few words and phrases I didn't realize were Canadian (bachelor apartment, pencil crayon, freezies, pablum, stagette and oddly, texas mickey) there was one of Irish origin that I'd never heard and it did to me exactly as promised: it filled my boots.

Not to be confused with "big boots to fill" either, according to my pea-brained research, "fill your boots" means several things:
1. Literally put your feet in your boots and get going!
2. "Get busy." "Tackle this task." "Overcome this obstacle."
3. "Whatever floats your boat." aka "Whatever creams your coffee."
4. "Take as much as you want." aka "Help yourself." aka "Be my guest."
5. "Go for it, if it makes you happy."

According to Sherred, one in three Canadians typically use this phrase. I want to increase that, therefore, I propose that you learn to love this phrase too. Think of it like your motivation mantra. Maybe a metaphor for encouragement. Or better yet: permission to be inspired (and inspire others). Use it as a your catch phrase catalyst for positive thinking. Why? Because when you boil that phrase down it highlights two necessities in life:
1. Partake with gusto.
2. Get bigger boots as needed.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

peculiar home remedies.

#evenonesthatwork
#paige

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

I love art and all things art. I recognize that art does not always intend to be so-called beautiful or deep or whatever. Whether or not it is an extension of the artist's point of view is also debatable but regardless, art hates apathy: art intends to make us feel something. And this child's art, displayed at a local public venue, scares the shit out of me.

Good job kid.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

hmm. I'm just not sure what message someone is trying to send me via the snow on my windshield. Lose your belly fat? Get a haircut? I like your sidelocks? Your head is much much too big for your body?

Any ideas?

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Are those...crop circles (but like in peanut butter)?
Mulder? Scully?

when someone messes with the peanut butter.

#itmesseswithmyhead
#iblamemac