Life and other interesting stuff...

Blog Interrupted

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:40:00 +0000

What happens when Blogger meets promotion? No time to write. No time to play. No time to think about what to write or to play so I have something to write about.

Ok, I am probably exaggerating. Slightly. Maybe slightly more than slightly but it's certainly more than coincidence that my blog history abruptly stopped after my promotion in 2010. Since my second promotion in 2011, I have barely had time to bemoan the fact that I have no time to write.

But after all this time, what have I missed? Talking to all of you. So today, on my day off (yay!!) I am taking a moment to say hello again old friends. I hope time has treated you kindly, given you great adventures and blessed you with challenges to strengthen you. I hope to talk to you all again soon (as I do have a couple of adventures to share, past and future) and as always, please do keep in touch too.

Ciao for now...

Y'all 'r not from 'round here, are ya?

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Sun, 02 May 2010 18:25:00 +0000

Arriving in the Gulfport/Biloxi International Airport to a smooth-as-silk landing, I was a relieved camper. The weather reports for the area were not promising and the skies were unfriendly but our crew managed to stick a perfect landing... Always a good thing to have an equal number of landings as take-offs, many pilots have told me. It was still overcast and drizzling when we arrived but that could not dampen our spirits and they were lifted even further as we listened to the melodic drawl of everyone around us.

I love a southern accent. It makes me want to swoosh around in a big crinoline talking about iced tea and charming men. Anyway, we gathered our luggage, collected our rental car (the little red wagon as we affectionately referred to it) and then noticed something that gave us pause at the moment and another memorable moment in the adventure later on... There was no plate on the little red wagon, only a card that said Tag Applied For. Hmmm... What do you suppose that means? Now a more cautious person (or wiser, perhaps) would have marched back into the rental office and asked what it meant and if it would cause any problems down the road.

Not us. We were tired, we were anxious to get to our condo and we were throwing caution to the wind on this trip (in a very conservative way though, I have to say... we're not Thelma and Louis here).

We started the drive from Gulfport (the actual location of the Gulfport/Biloxi International Airport), through Biloxi, Ocean Springs to finally arrive in Gautier Mississippi. As far as I can tell, Gautier Mississippi is famous for its location on the Pascagoula River (or the Singing River as the locals call it, from either the sound the bees make on late summer evenings or the calls of the extinct Pascagoula Tribe Indians, depending on who you believe). It is a small town, population of about 18,000 and it immediately reminded me of the small town I grew up in, Woodstock Ontario. Why, you might ask, did we decide to stay in Gautier? Dave is a member of a travel club where you can rent condos anywhere in the world... This was the close to New Orleans but still centrally located on the Gulf and we thought, a great home base for the adventure. We were right on that one.

We finally pulled into our home-away-from-home at about eight at night, after stopping off at the local grocery store to grab the essentials.

US Travel Trip #2

Southern grocery stores have all manner of deep fried or pickled products

Back home, I do my best to follow the advice of dietary experts and "shop the outside isles of the grocery store... fresh produce, fresh dairy and fresh meats/seafood." I do venture down the forbidden middle isles of course, that's where all the cleaning products, sugar, flour, cereal, crackers & piddly stuff like that can be found after all. But I do try to keep it to the outside.

At the local Gautier grocery store, there was a produce section, about one third the size of what I'm used to back home but it was there. There was okra. I don't know what okra is or how to cook it but it was neat to find it.

I didn't buy the okra.

As we strolled the outside isles, the rest of the selection was fully processed, packaged and chemical-injected selections of meat and cheese. We did find some burgers and chicken and that was ok because we weren't planning on cooking at home all that much.

We decided to pass on the pickled pigs feet, pickled eggs, pickled ham hocks and "cracklin" which is delectably described on the label as "pig fat with attached skin." Mmmm.

Often, instead of a full meal I like to just nibble on cheese, crackers, maybe a nice chickpea dip and veggies. It's light and fills the void and can be pulled together in a matter of moments which at the end of a busy, long day is a blessing. I know it's probably not great when it comes to the nutritional value or fancy-shmancy departments, but I never claimed to be an epicurean... I just want to be one some day.

So, off we strolled to the "deli" department in search of some brie. I could find none in the refrigerated case amongst the pickled everything-under-the-sun, macaroni salad, potato salad and fried chicken so I decided to ask the young gal behind the counter. "Brie? Wha's that?" she responded. I explained as best I could (I always love the challenge of describing something you are completely familiar with to someone who has never heard of or seen it... it's not as easy as it seems at first thought and it's always a fun exchange).

"Um... no, I don't think we have any of that here. Where y'all from? You're not from 'round here are y'all?" I told her we were visiting from near Toronto Canada and her response was simple.

"Why?" I explained as much as I could of our unplanned trip and why we were in "these parts" and she smiled and said "I knew y'all wasn't from 'round here... y'all 'r dressed way too nice. Are y'all headin' to a special dinner or somethin'?"

We chatted for a while and I left feeling like I had made my first southern friend. She was sweet and charming and in her last year of high school and had no idea of how wonderful she was. These were traits that proved to be pretty common amongst the people we were lucky to meet along our journey (well, except the high school part).

Mark Twain was right.... Southerners really do speak music.

The adventure begins...

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Sat, 01 May 2010 22:25:00 +0000

Early on a Friday morning (well, not that early, I'm used to getting up at 6-ish after all) two excited travelers gathered their bags from their "right across from the airport" hotel room and began the adventure they had planned and not planned, scheduled and left open to chance. We had decided to do lots but leave lots of flexibility to jump on opportunity, take chance out for a ride if the moment presented itself.

Without a doubt, we had solid on the agenda visiting New Orleans Heritage & Jazz Festival (or JazzFest as just about everyone we ever talked to called it), treasure hunting for a vintage Cadillac convertible and enjoying all that Southern cuisine has to offer. Less certain but certainly on the "would like to-do list" was exploring the Gulf Coast countryside, visiting some of the historic sites in the area and maybe, if chance works out and the stars are aligned, drive that newly acquired Cadillac convertible to the Kentucky Derby on the way home.

Well, since I am writing this as I watch the Run for the Roses from my home office, the Caddy/Derby dream did not materialize but I can't say I have an ounce of regret, disappointment or melancholy.

It was an amazing trip, largely for one reason. The people of our host states rose up to the legend of Southern Hospitality in a way that exceeded our expectations and gave me much to think about in regards to facing challenges with grace, kindness, hope and faith.

In stark contrast, as we headed down to the main lobby of our over-night host hotel in lovely Buffalo NY (hey, I'm trying), we were faced with a woman spending half her time chastising her active but sweet-as-they-come little boy and the other half filling and re-filling her plate with the slim pickings this "complimentary breakfast buffet" had to offer (and trust me, it wasn't much). There wasn't enough bad hotel coffee to make this experience palatable in any way at all. As we collectively departed the lobby to board the van to shuttle us off to the airport, she manage to completely knock the lad right off his feet (which flew up over his head as he fell) with the van door as she swung it open to get in. I wanted to scoop him up and tell him that he wasn't invisible or unwanted or bad or trouble or anything less than a fantastic little package of all good things to come. Give me strength.

Anyway, we arrived at the airport, boarded our flight, flew, arrived, rested, boarded our second flight, flew and arrived again. In the middle, in lovely Atlanta GA (really, I am trying) we found a restaurant to grab our lunch prior to flight number two. Since we were flying in coach (or peasant class as I like to call it) our only source of sustenance was the teeny-tiny pack of peanuts and a diet coke (or 7UP as Dave would order). Not what I would call filling. So, Chili's it was.

US Travel Tip #1...

Order one entry and split it between two.

I had ordered what I thought would be a sensible, light salad and Dave ordered what he thought would be a small appetizer wrap-thing (or something like that to be specific). What arrived was enough food to get me through what I would normally eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner in one day. What on earth is going on??? We were wondering the night before when we arrived in Buffalo and went out to grab, what else would you have in Buffalo but authentic Buffalo wings for a late dinner. Each of us ordered one serving which after we were done, half still remained on our plates. "No thank you, we would not like to take it to go." Can you imagine what the hotel room would have smelled like in the morning if we had? But this "lunch" which turned out to be equal to any dinner I've ever served for any major holiday (ok, I might be exaggerating just a bit with this one but you get my point) rendered me twice bitten. As we sat at our table and looked with regret at the heap of food that remained on our plates (and this was after the languished pleads of "no, you really have to help me eat this... I can't possibly") we agreed that for the remainder of our trip we would order one main course to split and decide from there if we wanted anything else. A plan that served us well as the trip carried on...

As we arrived at the Gulfport/Biloxi airport late in the day we faced clouds, a drizzle of rain and a not-too-promising outlook for the Saturday ahead of us.

But this is vacation... you never know what's just around the corner.

Hello Friends

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Mon, 19 Apr 2010 23:03:00 +0000

I wonder about myself sometimes... Seriously, I just plain wonder.

There are long periods where I feel like I should be writing something but for the life of me, I can't imagine what I have to write about. Short of trying to make my choice for breakfast seem interesting (large coffee... cream, double sugar; I know... I should eat... most important meal of the day... I know I know), really what's there to say?

But at this particular moment in time, I've got stuff.. Oh ya, baby; I've got stuff!

As I notice that this is just past the second anniversary of me creating this blog and just approaching the first anniversary of my move to the Hammer (that's Hamilton for those not nearby this town I call home), I find myself very excited about my latest upcoming adventure.

I am about to embark on a road trip. I love road trips!

I think my love for the open road and all the mystery and excitement and adventure it has to offer came from my Dad. I remember well when I was little and he would take me on drives in the country... Usually on Sunday afternoons... Sometimes he would even let me sit on his lap and steer, at least until I inevitably veered directly towards the ditch. But I did love the time... I loved gazing up to the sky watching the clouds change form and towards the homes we passed imagining the life stories that were taking place in their walls as we passed by and those are loves that I carry with me to this day. I owe my Dad a big thank you for that one.

Anyway, come Friday of this week, I'll be boarding a plane (the road trip part is coming up, don't worry) for beautiful Gulfport MS.

Huh?

Not high up on the list of "places to visit in the US" I know, (sorry Gulfport but let's be realistic) but it all makes sense in the end. At least in my mind it does. My fella, Dave and I are going on an adventure, renting a car when we get there and cramming in as much New Orleans, JazzFest, creole, history, music, French Quarter, cajun, vintage cars, dogwood & azaleas, Degas, Buffett, food glorious food that we possibly can in seven days and seven nights. And the hope is we will, along our journey, find a 1967-ish Cadillac to bring on home to Canada. If that's not an adventure, I don't know what is.

Today, in the planning stages, I am at one of my favourite parts of vacationing... At this point you can pile as much of everything into your time away as your imagination allows. Today, everything goes. As time goes by and reality sets in, usually I find that activities drop off, sites get passed over and decisions are made... what would I regret missing more? The Athens on the Square Antique Car Show or the the Mississippi Craw-fish Festival? But now, all will be seen, experienced fully and tucked away in my memory bank for future enjoyment.

I'll keep you posted as we travel along; the laptop is joining us on the journey... Feel free to give suggestions of places to visit, things to do, people to see, if you've been to the area.

Right now, I have all the time in the world!!

Taking Inventory

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 23:54:00 +0000

I find that once in a while it's a worthwhile exercise to pause for a moment and take stock of where you are in life, where you want to be and what you want to change.

During my blog-cation (vacation from my blog) a lot changed in my life. My address and my relationship status, most notably. I have moved from my long-time home of Brantford to my new home of Hamilton. I was actually quite surprised how emotional I became at leaving the town I honestly felt no huge connection to other than, most importantly, my children and where they were born. But they are grown now (physically and in every other way) and on their own paths so that attachment, I thought, would be easier to severe.

Man, was I wrong. I would tear up at the thought of not being a "Brantfordite." I began to realize how much I had invested in that community and how much it had influenced who I had become and I was grateful for all of it. But time moves on, things change and off I went, away from the town I had called home longer than any other. One night before the big move I was out with my best girlfriends bemoaning that "I'm Sal from Brantford... I don't know how well I'll do being Sal from Hamilton" when my wise friend told me, "No, you're just Sal. Where you're from doesn't matter."

I have such smart girlfriends.

So I moved and moved on. And there is so much I love about my new home. And there is so much I miss about my old one. And all of that is ok by me.

As for that "relationship status" change... Well that's a blog and a half worth of what's new. But it, too, is all good. And there is a lot to consider there. I have my boys (I know... they're older but as I have always said and will always say, they are my boys and that, my friend, is that) and he has his clan of three girls and one boy (I refer to his children as girls and boys the same way as I refer to my boys... FYI) and two grandkids. Yup. You heard me. Oh my that's a whole new ballgame. It's not like it's "Yours, Mine & Ours" (the cool 1968 one with Henry Fonda and Lucille Ball not the so un-cool one with Dennis Quaid and Rene Russo) but it is a mix that I have no experience with and I find always interesting and sometimes challenging.

But what's life if not interesting and challenging?

As for work (although I'd like to, I can't ignore work), it has it's ups and downs like everything in life. But I'm on the upside right now for sure. I am preparing for a fantastic trip to Paris and London that I earned through a sales incentive. Excited? That doesn't even begin to cover it. So suffice to say, I'm totally ok with work right now.

So at this particular moment... all is all good. Inventory complete and abundant.

Change of Pace

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 20:58:00 +0000

So, one of the things that I like about being a real adult (as opposed to the adult I imagined myself as growing up to be, although I think that adult indulged in complete self-absorbtion totally absent of income, responsibility or consequence) is that on occasion, when required or requested, I can alter the pace of my life just a bit for just a while.

And that's what I did today.

Today, I did almost nothing... short of eating (naturally), making a list of items to pack for my upcoming trip (lots more about that in future correspondence) and enjoying a couple of glasses of wine (oh my... in the middle of the day, no less).

And this I love. Nothing special is sometimes just a special as something special, if that makes sense. Yesterday I spent the day hanging out with my best girlfriends, laughing and talking and reminiscning and enjoying each other and today I am extending that luxury to another day of out-of-the-ordinary behaviour. Tomorrow, I will get back to work and from what I can see coming so far, things will be a little crazy for a little while.

But today, there is none of that. Today, there is just the sound of music in the background, pages of my favourite magazine turning and the unusual sound of what... what could that be???

The sound of squirrels duelling (or chatting or flirting) on my balcony.

I kid you not... How's that for a change of pace?

Calling out...

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 00:20:00 +0000

Remember me? It's been a long time... a really long time and I have to say I've missed you. So much has happened in the past almost-year that it would take up too much time (and you'd probably nod off after only a few minutes) so I'll spare you the details. For now.

But why, you might be asking, am I back now? What brought me back?

Was it seeing Julie & Julia at the movies and thinking, "Hey, if I blog about meeting Brad Pitt, do you think he'd read it and call me up? Or at least comment about me to some random journalist? Or what if I wrote about Angelina Jolie? Or both... Now there's a win/win." No... that wasn't it.

Was it the remarkable, odd, you-had-to-be-there-to-believe-it, like-nothing-I've-ever-seen-before couple dancing at the jazz club I was at on Saturday... He dancing like some strange cross between a penguin and marionette and she like a 50+ cheerleader dancing to a song in her head that had nothing to do with the song the band was playing... No, not that either although that would make a great blog.

It was that I honestly, truly missed doing this. I missed sharing my experiences with all of you (or both of you... or just you and you know who you are) and hearing your thoughts come back to me.

I have so much to share with you my friends. I hope you're still out there and I hope we'll talk again soon.

Until then, good thoughts are going out from me to you.

Silly Season

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 16:17:00 +0000

So it's election time again. And again, actually. As Canada, through virtue of geographical proximity as well as economic, social, psychological and just about every other kind possible it seems, has been observing the two-year soap opera that is the American presidential election process, lo and behold we are now facing an election of our own.... One month from now.

I always have found it interesting that the United States spends so much time, energy and money on their federal election process when we here seem to rifle these things off in our sleep. Literally, sometimes.

I suppose if you use the old one-tenth comparator and presume the US spends around 24 months on their election process, our two month long one is totally predictable. But I still wonder how much can we truncate this process before we are only glazing over the surface of issues and candidates. I think the very nature of our election process demands a more attentive electorate. You have to pay attention because if you're not following things pretty closely, you're going to miss something. And that's a big presumption to make... that we're all paying appropriate attention. Especially when you consider that in the last federal election, only about six in ten Canadians with the democratic right to vote chose to do so, our lowest turn out in history. If we don't actually get out to vote, can we really assume that we are paying attention?

Well, I will vote as I always do. Being a daughter of a man who fought in a World War, I have always been intensely aware of the duty of participation that comes with this freedom we are blessed to enjoy. Being a woman in a country that seems to presume equality where it does not yet exist compels me to vote. And every chance I get, I do my best to compel those I meet to do the same. Take a few minutes. Cast your ballot. Make your mark.

But do me another favour... pay attention!

Summer Top Ten Revisited

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 17:49:00 +0000

So as we approach the last long weekend of the summer of 2008, I find myself thinking back over the course of the last two and half months or so. What have I done? What didn't I do that I thought I would? And what surprises have come along the way?

There is so much I've enjoyed about this summer, so many surprises that have met me along this journey that I thought I had well mapped out, And isn't that just the best thing you can hope for?

In reviewing my little Summer Top Ten list, the first thing that struck me was that the only item on the list that included, without doubt, anyone else other than myself was my hope for an invitation to a friend's cottage. And as it would turn out that was the one that had the greatest impact on me.

Let's review, shall we?

First, the easy part... What on my list did I get done? As I mentioned, I've been to a friend's cottage. Twice actually. With one more visit planned for this weekend. That's a big woo hoo! The trip to Kensington Market with my son Parker was a rousing success for us both, you've heard all about my unfortunate yet really fun day at the beach, Arbor Dogs were an easy one to accomplish on the beach day and I've made my way through a couple of great books to boot. For those teachers or accountants out there, that's five of the ten in the list that I can handily check off.

What did I miss? Well, I didn't get to AGO or the ROM but on my trip to San Francisco I was lucky to enjoy an afternoon at the Museum of Modern Art so I think I can call that one a "sort of" done.

I have not gone to a Jays game, seen a movie at a drive-in, gone to Fergus or the Toronto Zoo (or the African Lion Safari as an alternate). But as the optimist I am this is what I can say; I am blessed and happy to have replaced those items with...

I had a beautiful, spontaneous picnic on the banks of our Grand River and enjoyed conversation, great wine and impromptu visits from boys who were successful in their frog-catching expedition.

I went on my first out-of-country vacation in over three years, as I said, to San Francisco, met new friends, enjoyed fantastic food and had a poetry-inspiring lunch on a patio overlooking a winery in the the beautiful Napa Valley.

And best of all, I had a door opened up for me that I had considered closed for a very long time. More on that as time goes on but it has allowed me to view my future and my life with an optimism and exuberance that I haven't had for I can't say how long.

I think, at the end of the day, at the end of the summer, and at the beginning of this new chapter, I can say that I have most certainly come out ahead.

You have to love it when you find a path you didn't think existed and it takes you someplace wonderful.

Hello, again

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 15:11:00 +0000

It feels like it’s been ages… well, it has been ages really.

I haven’t written anything lately for a few reasons and even as I sit here writing now, I’m not sure I can articulate with any real clarity what they are.

First, it’s summer and time seems to travel at a different pace in the summer… more slowly but more quickly at the same time. There’s no explaining it really except to say that I have, on several occasions, found myself being acutely aware of the incredible passing of time while noting a moment seeming to last longer than one could hope or dream. Does that make any sense at all? Probably not.

Second, I have been busy changing. And change takes time, effort and energy. By no means am I done but I certainly feel that I have turned a corner. An important one that without navigating, the hopes and dreams I held for myself would surely never come true.

As one of my true friends recently told me right here on this blog: “Sometimes, it is difficult to hear because of the noise of others. The noise is comprised of opinions, judgments, identifications, and criticisms of you. You must filter the noise to hear the truth.” And that’s what I have been working at doing. The funny thing is, that as I resigned myself to a future that I was welcoming of but thought to be less than what I had once hoped for, I found that everything I was seeking was right there in front of me. Go figure. Once I shut off the voices of doubt, judgment and disappointment, all the messages of hope and love and happiness were loud and clear. I thank you, my friend, for reminding me of that pure and wise message.

And so here I am… watching the few remaining days of summer pass by while I fill them with all things and people I love. I am excited and hope-filled. Who could ask for more?

“Change, when it comes, cracks everything open.”
Dorothy Allison

Beach Blanket Baking

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 18:27:00 +0000

As I continue to work through my Summer Top 10 list, yesterday I crossed off number five, “a day at the beach”

I love the beach and being from South Western Ontario in a community perfectly nestled within easy driving distance of three Great Lakes, there are several beautiful beaches to choose from. When I was growing up in little Woodstock, Ontario most of my classmates went with their families to Sauble Beach, a lovely spot on Lake Huron that was a short, easy drive away and the beach of choice for most of Woodstock it seemed. I, however, never went for a few reasons… First, I was never part of the “in” crowd who went and knew that showing up would result in more torment than it was worth… Second, I was quite happy frolicking on the shores of the little lake that was tucked within the city of Woodstock, Pittock Lake (being very generous calling it a lake really… after all, it was created by damming the Thames River for crying out loud). I am, at heart, a simple gal.

Couple that with my family’s annual trips to Florida over Christmas break as well as regular visits to my aunt and uncle who lived on the shores of Wasaga Beach, Ontario and you have a love of the beach and all the glory that lives there that has been cultivated and expanded upon over the course of my lifetime.

So as I said, yesterday off I went to my current beach of choice, Port Dover. Again, a beach community located very close to my own town but this time a lakeside village on the shores of Lake Erie. It is not a large beach but it is a pretty one and with the ease of the drive and a door-to-beach commute of less than 40 minutes, I’m a happy gal indeed.

Sunday morning I packed my necessary beach gear (most of which spends the summer in the beach bag ready for a spur-of-the-moment jaunt)… book, iPod (to be used only in the case of an overpowering influx of unwelcome music from beach blanket neighbours), blanket, scarf to tie my hair back, wallet and sunscreen all easily tucked into the big straw bag that I purchased on my most exotic of beach trips, Nice, France. I did pack sunscreen. I did. But I did not use it. More on that later.

One of the things I love most about the beach is the symphonic layering of sounds… You have the constant lapping of the waves on the shore, conversations coming in and out of focus, children laughing and sometimes crying, dogs barking, music playing (happily on this occasion I was not bothered by a battle of the boom-boxes… do they still call them boom-boxes? Not likely), gulls calling all combining to the most perfect of white noises.

Although the beach was predictably busy for a perfect summer day, not too hot and not humid at all, I easily found myself a spot to set up camp. And there I stayed for the whole afternoon… I swam a few times, read for a while, walked for a while, laid out for a while… I was oblivious of time passing other than the unavoidable tracking of the sun across the sky. I felt nothing other than the joy of what seemed the most perfect of Sunday afternoons. Until I got in my car to drive home. There it was… that uncomfortable tightening of my skin on the backs of my legs all the way up, pausing then there again covering my back. Burn? Was I burnt?

It has always been predictable how I “tan” each year. One burn to start off the season then I’m good to go. Now, I am sure there are people out there screaming at their computer screens about the dangers of unprotected exposure to the sun, long-term effects of sun damage… I know I know. I’m a mom… I know. I spent countless hours fighting to slather sunscreen on my boys when they went out to play or at the beach. I know. I know better.

And I know the pain of sunburn… I’m the gal with freckles on her shoulders from a second degree burn that I received while coaching girls baseball with my girlfriend Ruthann when I was in grade twelve (I add that detail specifically because my friends will read it and either fall off their chairs laughing or out and out call me a liar… but I swear it’s true).

So I do know the dangers of sunburn and yet there I was last night, trying my hardest to find a comfortable position to lay where my back and rear end were not screaming in discomfort. And don’t get me started on sitting on the leather seats of my car or at my desk at work. I am paying the price. And I swear I won’t do it again… Until next year.

But what a day I had!!

Mind Over Matter

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 14:02:00 +0000

There are times writing this feels like ideas flowing easily from the gates of my mind... Then there are times like this, when I am feeling heavy from the weight thoughts that have no beauty in them that the words get stuck in my head and can't come together in any coherent, logical form.

I am looking for answers and I just can't seem to find them. I feel like so many aspects of my life are currently thrown up in the air and I am waiting and watching to see where they land.

I want to go with my gut on one issue but my gut has taken me in a direction that has brought me to a point where I am struggling beyond my capabilities... In other areas, I have done what I can and await decisions that will impact my next move in every other area...

And so I am looking desperately, darting my attentions around for sources of inspiration and support from anywhere I can. I am lucky because I am finding them and as usual, it comes down to where you focus your attention.

I stumbled upon a fun little website that takes words from any source... something you write in, another website or, in my case, a blog and makes them into a clip-art styled montage of the message within. Try as I might, I could not figure out how to insert the resulting image of my blog words into my blog so I have added the link to what was produced.

To my great delight, the word that was the most predominant was "happy" so I titled my Wordle "Happy Most of All"

Not yet, but I'm hopeful.

Free Hugs

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 14:58:00 +0000

I am a hugger... I am fine in admitting that fact. I don't know when I became a hugger (probably right around the birth of my oldest boy, come to think of it) but I've been one for as long as I can remember now. Not a tree-hugger either (well, it's not that I'm not a tree-hugger, it's just that trees are not on the top of my hug list). I'm a people hugger.

In being a hugger, there are certain precautions one must take because not all people are huggers like me.

First of course, it's rarely appropriate to hug at the office although I have to admit, I have worked in my present job long enough, feel like I know and like my co-workers well enough that I have to remind myself not to hug when I see them in the office.

Second, as I mentioned not everyone is a hugger and it's important to respect others' boundaries above all. I learned during my work at the Women's Centre that hugs are not always welcome and they can in fact trigger some pretty awful, primal responses over which the recipient has no control. I am so lucky that I am not restricted by the pain unwanted touch causes a person but I am aware of its impact and respectful of the pain it causes in others. What I also learned at the Centre though is that it is perfectly fine to let a person who you know is in pain know that you are available to give hugs as often as wanted, one only needs to ask.

But when it comes right down to it, I'm a hugger... unabashed and unashamed. I am a true believer in the power of positive human contact. I know that when I give or receive a hug, I feel better, happier, lighter. There seems to be an exchange of happiness between people that at the same times leaves less room for troubles or worries and so they go... if only for a moment. And sometimes, even just a moment of less worry, pain, concern is a blessing.

So just so you know... when you need a hug, I'm here. Virtually if not in person.

Hugs to you all

*See the great Free Hug campaign commercial here....

Causes for Celebration

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 22:53:00 +0000

I am suddenly excited about stuff in general.

Today was the close for sales at work... don't worry, I will not be boring you with endless tales of the excitement that is my sales career (she yawns, stretches and takes a moment to re-focus as she has made herself nod off with the thought of it). It is the end of our quarter and first half of the year which means my deals are closed and my hands are tied for selling until the new round of prices and promotions come out in early July. That in itself deserves a big woo hoo!

But on top of that there is a holiday coming up here in Canada... July 1st is our country's birthday and that means (woo hoo #2) a day off on Tuesday. And with not much to do for work... that means a sort-of day off on Monday as well (woo hoo #3!!).

I have already started to fill my weekend, however you choose to define it - long or not, and so my excitement level is high and rising.... My work collegues and I are together on Friday for an extravagant celebratory dinner and night of dancing thanks to a well-earned prize our sales team won this month. A few of us are staying at a nearby hotel overnight to avoid the drink & drive question all together so I'm guessing half of Saturday will be spent getting myself back home and the other half is open for whatever comes up. Gay Pride is celebrated in Toronto like nowhere else and although I am not myself gay, I have wonderful friends who are and I am looking forward to the parade on Sunday and all the revelry that goes with it.

I am giddy with excitement. Fun all 'round.

Of course the problem with being so goofy about your energy level is the reaction of those around you. I am wishing people a good weekend as I visit them during my appointments at work which, on a Wednesday, has brought no end to the strange looks.

But that too is worth a laugh. So happy hump day to you as well and here's hoping we all get a few glorious days of fun.

Happy Endings

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 22:59:00 +0000

I was watching a movie on the weekend, which shall remain nameless because when it comes right down to it, the name of the movie is really irrelevant. It's about the ending though and it is a tale repeated over and over again on movie screens and in dvd's every single day.

I am wondering about Hollywood’s fascination with happy endings, specifically where relationships are concerned. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a happy ending as much as the next gal but sometimes they just seem to go overboard with the perfection thing. So I was wondering is the problem with Hollywood or with me?

After experiencing what I have over the course of my lifetime my faith in happy endings was at best greatly diminished and at worst, a distant memory… Depended on the day really. And yet the movies that I go to see, television shows that I watch continue to revert back to the age-old boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-girl-back story line whether it is over the course of a couple of hours in a theatre or over a season in my living room.

I think of myself as an optimistic realist… I believe in something better but am always prepared for something worse. I lead a happy, full life… I have wonderful friends, my family is healthy and loves me as much as I love them. I want for nothing, I am blessed in so many ways and I pay attention to my blessings because I have lived without them and I want to drink them in every moment. But I also want the pleasure of sharing my happiness with someone who wants to share theirs with me just as much. And I don't think I'm unique in that regard either.

I have on my refrigerator a great compilation of magnets and messages, photos and notes that is an ever-changing collage of how I view my life at the moment, but the one piece that you will always find there is this:

My Favourite Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy "Will you marry me?"

The guy said "no."

And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, to the theatre, dancing, traveling, drank martinis, always had a clean house and never had to cook...

And farted whenever she wanted.

The End

Having had some experience with being passed over as the girl of choice, I find solace in this happy little tale. And I have decided that I will embark on writing my own happy ending. I posted that as my status today on Facebook... "Sally is writing her own happy ending" and within in minutes I had messages from friends either asking me to write theirs as well or let me know how it turns out so they can do the same.

This is my story… No Hollywood ending but a happy one. My life. And my heart.

A Full Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 13:48:00 +0000

My son came home from afar this week. He has been gone, living abroad since August of last year and I last saw his face, hugged him, heard his laughter, when he was home over the Christmas holidays.

I love my boys, oh how I love them. They are each kind, funny, smart, wonderful young men… unique in their perfections and imperfections and similar in their mannerisms and charms. It takes me aback at times when I consider who they have become and from where they have come… From little boys with skinned knees and tears, hospital visits and pet store acquisitions, giggles and games all on the road to becoming to men that I am so proud to know let alone have the privilege of parenting.

But it is my duty as a parent to, from the moment they enter my life, prepare them to leave me and succeed on their own. That is my duty and I owe them that and so much more. So I have done my best and loved them more than I imagined possible. And now, as they move forward with their lives, as they should, I am left to cheer them from way back on the sidelines. As I should. The cheering part, that’s always been easy… But the sidelines part… that is hard.

Our hearts at times seem independent spirits… it is without our will or consent how deeply they devote themselves to others and it is often a surprise to us how fully they feel love. It is a blessing in every way but it is equally surprising how deeply they feel hurt when the objects of our affections are not close to us.

Much has been written about distance between hearts but what I think is it’s the one distance you are most acutely aware of. It’s the one that wakes you up in the middle of the night or makes you think of that person in the middle of a busy day. It is distracting and occupying. When you are close, it feels like your heart beats stronger and that space in it, saved for that person, is filled.

I am so happy my boys are all near to me. I will drink up their love now and on into the future as they continue to scatter along the paths of their lives.

Breaking Free

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 10:26:00 +0000

Sometimes the elements of your life present themselves in a way that provides remarkable clarity… if you’re paying attention.

Since I have been “single” (separated really, not divorced but legal in its definition or so I’m told) I have had many moments like that; where because I am paying closer attention, I see things that were invisible or at lease well disguised to me previously.

When I separated, everyone told me the first year would be the hardest… the first birthdays, holidays, anniversaries… all of these spent for the first time alone would be the hardest. Well, in my humble opinion those people lied (not maliciously... just naively). Or at least set up a false expectation of relief that has not yet come.

Having said that, I can tell you that the way I define my special occasions now has certainly changed. But still, there are times that are more difficult than others because of the cluster of events. May and June are right up there. May has mother’s day, my parents’ anniversary and is the month my father died and June has father’s day, my wedding anniversary and the day my mother died (how about that for irony?).

I have crystal clear recollections of when I was growing up, sitting in my bed at night calculating how old I would be at the turn of the century (thinking it was such a far way off). I knew I would be 37… I was also certain, with absolute surety, that I would be dead by 40. For no particular reason. I just knew I would be gone from this earth by then. No shock. No sadness.

In my work at the Women’s Centre I learned that this is a common thought of people who have survived a difficult childhood. There is a feeling that they will die young and there is no sadness, remorse or regret in it. It is a statement of fact and requires no empathy or support.

As I celebrated the new millennium with my family and friends I gave this memory a passing thought but didn’t dwell on it. Until one night in June of 2000.

My family and I had been away for a few days and when we returned we found a series of telephone messages for me. In increasing severity and urgency I was being told that my mother was not well and was admitted to the hospital in the town where I grew up and she still resided. And it seemed she would not survive the night. Get there soon, I was told.

So I left my home and ventured out for what was one of the most remarkable drives of my life. As I drove the highway to my old home town, the sky in front of me was being lit with flashes of lightening behind mountains of clouds in the distance. I was acutely aware that I was driving into a storm in every possible sense.

When I arrived at the hospital, my sister was there with my mother and for the course of the night my sister and I sat by her bedside and talked about nothing at all. Our relationship, my sister and mine, had always been strained at best and this was not the best of circumstances.

My sister had been at the hospital for much longer than I when, in the middle of the night she said she needed to lay down and rest a while. Off she went to a room designated specifically for family members needing rest, leaving me alone in this sterile environment with the woman I called Mom. During this quiet time, with only my mother and me in the hospital room, I saw her for who she was... just a woman relaxing into her longest of sleeps. She wasn't my mother, just a woman who had lived her life and was about to depart this earth in the most peaceful of ways. I talked to her some of the time, sat and watched her for some of the time, walked around the room a bit and just waited.

In the middle of the night, our mother passed with both of us in the room. I was inches from her face, talking to her as I heard her draw her last breath, looked up at my sister as she was in the middle of a conversation with the attending nurse and announced that she was gone. I didn’t need the nurse to confirm what I already knew.

After the required conversations and meetings that we had with hospital staff, in the small hours of the morning, I headed back on the journey to my home. And I was driving into a bright, beautiful sunrise. I had come out of the storm and was facing a new day.

And what I knew then and there was that it wasn’t me that was going to part this earth before I was 40… it was the frightened, insecure, person that had lived inside of me all those years. I had said good bye to her and my mother in the same quiet breath.

My mother was free and so was I.

Summer Top 10 List

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 23:12:00 +0000

Friday is the first day of summer. I wish there were a way to convey in written text the sense of glee I have as I type this. I have said before that I feel that each season has its own personality; spring is freshness and optimism, autumn is comfort and reflection, winter is swaddling and kin ... but summer, sweet sweet summer...

Summer is lightness and happiness. Summer is being relaxed and laughing loudly. It's not caring if your hair is perfect, your clothes wrinkled... the summer breeze and heat take care of those worries and make them disappear. The biggest care in summer is whether you are stocked up with sunscreen.

So as we teeter on the brink of my favourite season, I've compiled my Top Ten List of things I want to do over the next glorious weeks (in no particular order)

1. See a movie at a drive-in theatre - There aren't many of these gems around any more but happily, there is one in my old home town of Woodstock (that little town does have its charm). Maybe I'll stop for a Bartley's Ice Cream too.

2. Go to a Blue Jays Game - I love baseball. I love the social aspect of the game... there is so much time between pitches and action it gives you a chance to chat up the fans around you and make new friends. What's better than that? Baseball and new friends. And hot dogs. And beer. Perfection.

3. Go to Fergus - This is a town not far away from where I live with a famous farmer's market... It's worth the drive and I haven't been in years. I love getting fresh produce and home-made wares. It's a delight.

4. Arbor Dogs - If you go back to my Friends on Bikes post, you'll read my comments on a little town of Port Dover, on the shore of Lake Erie. The Arbor in Port Dover has, in my opinion, the best foot-long hot dog in the world and I hope to be partaking more than once.

5. Day at the beach - Happily, this one can likely be accomplished with #4 but it's worth its own number for sure. Book... cooler... bikini... sunscreen. Perfection yet again.

6. Zoo or Safari - Toronto Zoo or African Lion Safari, two nearby attractions that, again, not having been in a few years, are calling me back (please refrain from the "animals shouldn't be in cages" speech... My boys gained far more respect and caring for animals from seeing them live than anything they got from reading about them in books and both of these organizations are open and well-run facilities)

7. Read books - Need I say more?

8. Kensington Market - A wonderful neighbourhood in Toronto. I have to admit to cheating just a bit here, because I am going this weekend with my youngest son and his friends. But I do love this treasure trove of vintage and unique clothing and accessories

9. AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario) or ROM (Royal Ontario Museum) - Fantastic museum and gallery that I adore. ADORE.

10. Friend's Cottage - I have precious few friends with cottages (you know who you are) but I have already been working at "invitations" for a visit. Almost secured one for this weekend but see #8... Time at a cottage is as close to heaven as I think you can get. Hello Walden.

That's it for me... Might I be so bold as to suggest you make your own list? It's fun just thinking of things to be doing over these next precious days. I'm not sure I'll be able to check all 10 off the list but I sure will try and that in itself is a great adventure.

Buckle Up

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 00:03:00 +0000

A conversation I had with a coworker today got me thinking.

He was talking about his daughter celebrating her birthday today and somehow that led to a comparison of how our children live today in contrast to how we lived growing up. And that got me to thinking...

As far as I can tell, it's a miracle that any of us are still alive. We rode with no bike helmets, in cars with no seat belts, no car seats. For those who had parents with vans, take the seats out and sit on the floor so you can stretch out and play... even better. If they had a pick-up truck, well yee-haw, jump in back and let the wind sing to you for the ride. Our parents let us play in dirt all the live-long day and except for the obligatory before meals wash-up and end-of-day bath, we were never clean. We lived in rooms with lead paint, had mercury in our fillings, and I for one spent countless Christmas holidays driving to and from Florida with my two chain-smoking parents in the car... windows rolled up... without my seatbelt on. Not to mention the other 16 years in the smoke-filled house.

We left to "go outside and play" first thing in the morning, checked in at lunch (sometimes) and came home right after the street lights came on.

We didn't have cell phones, pagers, BlackBerrys or anything of that nature to check in with home or have them check in on us. If we were really lucky we had walkie-talkies that reached around the corner of the house on a good day with fresh batteries.

Look both ways before you cross the street... Don't talk to strangers.... As far as I can recall, those were the nuggets of safety-based wisdom that were drilled into us... Oh ya, and that wacky "don't do drugs" movie in grade seven health class that had those crazy kids thinking the burner on the stove was really a flower. That didn't end well.

And yet here we are... no worse for wear (well, maybe a little bit but really not much).

Knowing all we know now about the dangers that surround us, and what we used to "pull off" when we were younger, no wonder we've become so protective of our children and aware of our surroundings. How could we not be? I can't imagine, as a parent, not worrying constantly about my boys... and I know in their own ways, our parents worried constantly about us (although I'm not sure what about).

But oh how I loved having the whole day to fill with adventures.

Open Dialogue

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 22:55:00 +0000

I have had a number of conversations recently revolving around being open, opening up to people. I don’t consider myself a closed person, but I have the distinct impression that those around me might say otherwise.

I have a number of thoughts on the matter and being the open person I am I will share them with you (ha!).

First, it’s been my experience that when someone asks “how are you?” generally speaking the answer is either presumed by them or irrelevant to them so if you ask me “how are you” I will give any number of versions of the same thing… but they are, reflecting my desire to always stay positive regardless of how negative things may seem, always of a positive nature. Fine, good, dandy (things are really good), great (self-evident)… At worst I will offer an “ok” which is to say, not. If, on a rare occasion you hear me say “I’ve been better” or “not great” hide sharp objects and take stock of over-the-counter pharmaceuticals.

Second, it’s not that I’m not open, really I don’t think so. I just don’t talk about myself much. I find other people fascinating and love to hear stories of their families, adventures, partners, children. I love conversations and I can think of about a billion things more interesting to talk about than myself. But that is not to say I’m not open. If someone asks me a personal question, about anything, I will answer. I often hear people say “do you mind if I ask…?” and I never do. I always figure if a person is interested, they’ll ask. And then I’ll tell you anything you want to know. But otherwise, honestly, it’s not that I’m hiding anything, it’s just that I think there’s other stuff to chat about and it would never occur to me to include myself in the list.

I made the comment to someone recently that I blog all the time, clear evidence of opening myself up. The response I got back was as simple as my claim… “You said it yourself… you’re talking to everyone and no one. Easy to talk openly in an empty room” Jerk.

“Look at your photography” this person said. “You never show all of yourself in the self-portraits. You are always hiding something… keeping something out of sight.” Double jerk.

Well… the other aspect of my personality that I am happy to be open about is a ridiculous level of stubbornness. I’ll show you, yes I will.

So… hmm… what to say? I am going to make coconut shrimp for dinner then take a long soothing bath and exfoliate.

Give me a break. It’s a start.

From Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 12:45:00 +0000

This past Mother’s Day, as a mother myself, I reflected on the lessons that I learned from my mother and the lessons I had tried to pass on to my sons. Now, facing Father’s Day without my own dear dad and as my sons enjoy it with their own dear dad, I am reflecting again.

I have been without my dad since I was 21. I was young and in a very unhappy place when he died and I felt then that I lost him when I needed him most. As the years and decades have passed, I realize now that I was almost right then. It was a huge loss to me when he died, but at the same time, it was the only way that I could have moved forward in a way that would ensure my happiness and that of my wonderful little boy. So move on I did, in the absence of the one form of support that I could always count on.

My dad taught me a lot.

Now again, I am not so naïve to think, even with the fading of the sharpness of my past to believe that my dad was without faults. He, like all of us, had his share. He was an alcoholic, he worked hard and spent very little time at home with his family except, as the good Catholic he was, on Sundays. He kept his feelings deeply hidden except when he was angry with my sister or me, or our mother for that matter. He withheld affection and even communication when he was angry and he could be angry for days at a time.

But despite all that, I feel my dad was a wonderful man and I’ll tell you why. My dad saved me. I have mentioned before that I was adopted at the age of two and for as long as I can remember my dad would sit me on his knee (or anywhere nearby when I grew too big) and tell me in great detail the story of how he found me. Keep in mind that I was a two year old, cross-eyed, uncoordinated little girl… hardly high up on the adoptability scale. But he would tell me how he walked around the place where I Iived, looking at all the pretty, perfect little girls that played there, and chose me. I am sure that it didn’t actually happen that way, but he let me believe it did.

And that gave me an enormous sense of being wanted in a home that gave all indications to the contrary. That was the one lesson that was the most important of all; that I was loved. He told me so, often. He would not let me leave home without kissing him on the cheek and telling me he loved me (unless, as I said he wasn’t speaking to me… this I can forgive).

And he told me, in the most embarrassing of ways and at the most embarrassing of times, that no guys I knew were good enough for me. Not a lesson that stuck unfortunately, but a lesson worth repeating by any parent when you see your child going down a path that you know will end in sorrow.

So, my dear dad, in the relatively short time we had together, gave me the best gifts, taught me the most important lessons.

And as it turns out… he was there when I needed him the most. He found me and saved me, that cross-eyed, uncoordinated little girl, and that made everything else possible.

Friends on Bikes

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 14:39:00 +0000

This morning I was aroused from my slumber by the sound of hogs… of the Harley Davidson variety.

Today is Friday the 13th and around these parts that can mean only one thing… No it’s not a foreboding of trouble to come, a call to stay away from work or remain indoors out of fear of something bad happening. No, around here it’s a call to Port Dover, especially, particularly if you have a motorcycle.

Really, Friday the 13th is created for and by bikers, the rest of the folks attending are just crashing their party. And let me tell you, this is no small party. There are a precious few Fridays the 13th in any given year and this event is held rain or shine, spring, summer, fall or winter. This year we have only one such Friday and it is today, what is starting out as a beautiful sunshiny day. Granted, there is some rain predicted for later but that will do nothing to quell the spirits or dampen the enthusiasm I am sure. From what I can tell, bikers are a lot tougher than that.

I have known three bikers in my life (that I am aware of anyway). Right now I work with one, Cam, a wonderful guy who I am happy to call a friend. He has a slick Honda motorcycle that reflects his personality perfectly. It’s a shiny bright blue machine that looks like it goes way faster than should ever be allowed. It’s sharp and so is its owner so they are perfectly matched I think. As far as I know Cam and his bike are probably on the road to Port Dover as I am typing this.

Then there is Mike… Mike on a Bike as we affectionately called him. Mike used to live next door where I used to live (follow me?) and he was new to motorcycle ownership. Words can’t describe the pride in his face the day he brought home his new hog. He was thrilled. It wasn’t a big bike but it was his and it looked good. He took me out for a ride on the back once, around town and out in the country. I decided then and there that I am not a Bike Bitch unless it’s one of those big comfy ones with really padded seats. I couldn’t walk properly for hours after my butt hurt so bad from the bumps on the road. Besides, I always prefer to be in the driver’s seat anyway.

And then there was Grizzly, Griz for those who know him well and I would never presume myself to be one of them. Grizzly is actually Mike on a Bike’s father-in-law and the most remarkable character you could imagine when sitting atop his bike. He has a three-wheeler (he would kill me I’m sure if he ever read this because I’m sure there has to be a cooler way of putting this but that’s what it is… it’s a three-wheeler!!) and he sits low to the ground with his arms up in the air grasping the handlebars. Grizzly wears only black and his ZZ Top beard hangs down and blows back in the wind has he roars along the open road. I have said barely 10 words to Grizzly in my life and all with my eyes lowered in deferential respect. Grizzly scares me just a little bit but has given no reason to draw this emotion out of me other than his imposing façade.

So as our little neighbour town swells from its normal 6,000 population to the anticipated 150,000 today (I told you it was big), I’m sure there will be lots of Cam’s and Mike’s and Grizzly’s (well, there’s only one Grizzly) and I hope they have a fantastic day and an Arbor Dog or two.

Me, I’m more of a Vespa kinda gal.

We Will Return To Our Regularly Scheduled Programming...

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 21:58:00 +0000

I am having technical difficulties...

A few weeks ago I dropped my BlackBerry in a puddle. It goes without saying that my BlackBerry didn't like that and rebelled in the most interesting and annoying ways. It would jump into the telephone screen without prompting, the screen would come on and stay on until the battery drained down, it wouldn't put spaces in my emails or texts (bless my friends for.tollerating.two.straight.weeks.of.conversations.that.looked.like.this.all.the.time...).

It dried out right around the time we had a near tornado (well, it sure felt like it) in my neighbourhood pouring buckets of water through my open living room window and onto my computer. That took another couple of days to dry out. (I would add a photograph here to show you how extreme the weather was but read on to technical difficulty number three and you'll see why I didn't)

Now, with my computer up and running and my BlackBerry with spaces a-plenty, my internet and cable have gone out in my apartment.

I do a fair amount of work at home at night that requires me to use the internet and without the addition of this ridiculous inconvenience, my work is sucking right now. Huge. I am trying and trying and getting nowhere fast in the biggest month of our year. My boss is on me relentlessly about my lack of success making me more miserable than I would normally be about the situation.

And so I am reduced to doing my on-line work at my local cafe that has wi-fi then the rest at home later... Of course having said that, I should be working right now but look what I am doing...

I find when I feel bombarded by coincidences like this, events over which I have little or no control but which have defined and sometimes profound impact on my day-to-day existence, it's easy to get dragged down by the undertow of problems. And I admit, I am certainly more sensitive to the pokes and jabs that I get these days... And I'm getting plenty of them too...

But what is making a far greater impact, what is helping me glide through this turmoil feeling relatively unscathed is the support and kindness of the people around me. Even as I am writing this, I received a text from a co-worker reminding me that my colleagues all know how hard I am working and don't let the boss get me down. Such a simple thing but that is exactly what allows me to get back up tomorrow and face the day with genuine optimism and hope.

And an umbrella just in case.

Mental Merry-Go-Round

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 22:41:00 +0000

I’m trying to figure out how I’m feeling today. I think I’m fine. But at moments I think maybe not. But not that I’m not fine, just not quite normal. But that’s just the day, I think.

This is why I’m so ambivalent.

Today would have been my 20th anniversary if my husband and I had stayed together. We have been separated for two and a half years now but dates like this one have a way of staying in my consciousness whether I want them to or not. And so there it is… floating around my head… June 10th… 20th Anniversary…. Ooooh.

When I was living with my husband he used to joke that if we were still together on our 20th (note the “if” even back then) we should either renew our vows or get divorced (in literary terms, I believe this is called foreshadowing… ha!). I have not submitted divorce papers and to the best of my knowledge neither has he, but the day isn’t over yet.

So I guess I am wondering if I should be feeling worse than I do? Or better? I’m really feeling nothing more than a sense of awareness, certainly with an underlying note of sadness. But not regret. And I suppose that is why I’m not worse off than I thought I might be as this date came closer and closer.

Honestly, I’m feeling worse about posting this round-in-circles blog that really confirmed nothing more than my own confusion.

Maybe I’ll go do something decisive… That will make me feel better. I will… I will….

I will take myself out for dinner and cocktails and celebrate today for what it is now, not what it once was.

SATC.... WTF???

noreply@blogger.com (Sally O'Grady) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 16:37:00 +0000

I apologize in advance to my male readers (I know you’re out there, we’ve spoken… don’t be shy). This blog entry may, at first glance seem more relevant to my female readers but hopefully you will carry on for the few minutes to see if there isn’t something in here you can relate to…

Last night I went to see the “Sex and the City” movie with my girlfriends. Before you anxiously jump ahead in the hopes of a spoiler or stop reading entirely in fear of one, I assure you… no such reveal is forthcoming.

The theatre was not even one-quarter full and of the few seats that were occupied only five men, to my best count, were in them. I admit it, no big surprise there. And in surveying the few men joining us, it was my estimation they were on maybe a second date… third or fourth tops. And they frequently got up to get drinks, go to the washroom, anything to ease their own pain. Good on you, guys. “A” for effort. Having said that, my girlfriends and I were anxious to see what the next chapter for Carrie and the girls held. What’s next?

As I said before, I will reveal none of what happens to the gals in this two and a half hour dramedy but I will tell you this… Samantha celebrates her 50^th birthday. Fifty. How on earth did that happen? The problem with joining our old friends four years later is that they, like all of us, have gotten older. And I’m not sure I liked that part.

I know we all are aging. I sure know I am… As I sit here with my glasses on so I can actually read what I am writing, I know very well I am getting older. I know it every time I tell people how old my “children” are… 17, 19 and 24. How did that happen?

But as I sat in the theatre and the lights dimmed, I was unprepared for the fact that while I was getting older in reality so too were my SATC friends in the fantasy world Hollywood had created for them. Their problems reflected my own and those of my friends. There was no sense of escapism in this story on this night (with, I admit, the notable exception of the fashion… oh my goodness the fashion!!).

We are at this point in our lives (speaking for myself really but I’ll lump you in with me if you don’t mind) who we are going to be. There can always of course, be twists and turns… in fact you can usually count on it. We can chose different paths and accept or reject what we have built for ourselves but our selves, I think, are defined. And in that definition comes the clarity of what you can and cannot allow for yourself. And in that clarity and surety of self comes the ability to accept nothing less.

But that’s just me thinking.

So, I’m not sure what to do with all that. Probably nothing at all. Maybe later on today I’ll mix myself a cosmopolitan and think some more… In my highest of high heels…