Pretty Paper

As I sit here staring at my Christmas tree in all its glory, listening to Christmas carols and waiting for my cookies to bake. I am suddenly struck by the song that is playing…its "Pretty Paper" by Roy Orbison. Man how I love this song; it has a purity about it that I just love; I now know why my grandmother loved this song so. (I admit I don't know if she liked Willie Nelson's version better, but I know she loved this song)

I sit and I start to daydream about all the stories that my mom has told me about growing up and her mom preparing the Christmas dinner. My grandma was a small woman but she was feisty no one messed with her when she spoke, but she had a kindness that only grandmothers know how to have. She would stay up until all hours of the night getting everything ready; setting the table with a crisp white tablecloth; ensuring that there were no creases in it. Putting her nice china out; folding the napkins just so and always having a bowl of ribbon candy in the middle of the table. She was like an elf busy at work; baking cookies, preparing the bird, making her famous lapuchine (Christmas pudding cake) and wrapping those last minute gifts they had picked up in town earlier that day; all the while listening to her Christmas Carols. I wonder if the kids actually slept at all that night; knowing that Santa was coming…how could anyone sleep. 

I wonder what smells they would smell, I wonder what their favourite part of that night was, and I wonder how excited they were. I chuckle to myself as I think of the little ones as my grandma is shuffling from room to room getting all set up. She did this for as long as my mom can remember; just to see the smile creep across my mom's face when she re-lives her cherished memories. Oh how I wish I could've been there to see all of that. In my own memory bank I think back to the old house where my mom grew up and I imagine my granny putzing around, getting ready for the big day tomorrow. With the pots boiling on the stove, the counters full of her baking, the table being pristinely set. I can imagine all of this and am enjoying the thought of it...

Just as I have this thought the timer goes off for my own cookies and for a brief moment I enjoy the last few lines of my grandma's favourite song and wonder if my kids will have the same memories of me?

A Lost Art...

Here I sit looking at the few Christmas cards I have received this year; this is a far cry from the number that I had sent out. But that is not my point, my point is...Is this just a silly tradition or something that has been forgotten in our society? I find with how technological everything is that we've forgotten how to compose a hand written anything. There was a time when receiving a Christmas card was an honour; not everyone could afford to purchase paper let alone ink. This was something that came from a very well to do family and you had a warm feeling inside of you when opening this heartfelt wish. Just knowing that in their busy lives they took the time to let you know that you are in their thoughts.

Not to mention the postal service, the people who had to deliver this to you. Just how much they went through so that you could open the card and know that someone special was thinking about you. They would take these letters on horse drawn wagons across extreme heat or extreme cold. Not knowing what was in there just knowing that it was their duty to get this letter delivered to you.

Where have those days gone? When people took the time to write and I mean handwrite a little meaningful note inside. Oh how I miss these days of running to the mailbox anticipating who would send a card to me or even a letter. There was a time not too long ago that writing letters was the norm; but now its text messaging, email and any other gadget that can send your message without any delay…or any emotion. To me this is the true sense of writing a letter or Christmas card, the emotion. We have come so far that in this new age; we've lost our sense of true gratitude of taking the time out of our busy lives to sit down and write something to someone. It's easy enough to send a text but do your true feelings come across? Don't get me wrong I do use the technological advances to my favour; but there is just something to be said about handwriting anything to someone you know. Despite the low number of return cards, I am still going to keep the tradition going…so look forward to receiving a Christmas card from me. And maybe just maybe I've made you think twice about sending out Christmas cards...

Who Do We Really Know?

I went to a funeral last month for a man that I met only once. Our one encounter was very vivid in my mind as I sat in the pew of this tiny chapel. The day I met him, it was a beautiful sunny summer day. We got the news that he was stricken with cancer and was just recently released from the hospital and was residing at the lake. When my boyfriend heard the news we were on our way to go and see him. I decided to go along for the ride and meet the infamous "rodent" as he was lovingly called. At first glance his cottage left little to the imagination for its rustic-ness. The chair in his front yard under the large spruce tree was actually quite humorous, I secretly wondered if he ever sat in it...

After tapping on the screen door a couple of times, we were greeted by a very fragile looking character. I knew instantly why he got his name; he was hunched over and skinny but very alert. We both walked in and as we followed him into his living room, where by the way he was watching TV...I couldn't help but notice the true charm of the place.

He asked if we wanted anything and we declined stating that we were only there for a minute to see how he was doing. He was very open about it all; there were no secrets, just plain facts. As we relished in his stories of chemo-therapy, people in the hospital and his frequent visitors. I couldn't help but pay close attention when his finger pointed to a bowl sitting on his coffee table...there in the bowl were a handful of turtles, individually wrapped in their trademark orange and gold wrapper. Just sitting there gleaming as if they knew we were talking about them; at first I didn't pay much attention until I heard him say that it really meant a lot for those two particular visitors to come all the way to the hospital and see him; especially to bring him those candies. He didn't get that it was something that people do on a regular basis; he was just so touched to have people like that in his life. I felt my heart start to crumble as he told us this story; you could see his emotions in his eyes...it was true and utter gratitude.

I haven't ever seen this emotion since that day in his cottage...and there I sat in the chapel wondering what other memories he had to offer to the others in this room. I just hope that they were as good as mine with the man I had met once.

My Old Grey Sweater

There in the bottom of my drawer sat my old grey sweater; all crumpled, tattered and stained. I grabbed it smushing it to my face and took a deep breath inhaling all the memories that came with it.

The sleeves (what was left of them) and the stains were all a part of what made it so special. When I would be making spaghetti sauce I would splatter sauce all over the arm of the sweater. Oddly enough I wasn't in any hurry to go and clean it off, I felt it would give it more character. Even the time I was eating a chocolate fudge sundae and I dropped some chocolate sauce on the logo just below my shoulder. I merely rubbed it in and to this day that stain is still there. I can tell you how every stain got on this sweater and why I was wearing it; it's almost like all the stains have their own little story of how they became a part of the sweater and its comfort.

The way I would feel when I pulled it over my head. How I never felt fat it in, how I loved the way it fell on my hips…giving the illusion that I was slimmer than I really was. It did all the things a friend would do, except it was a piece of clothing. One that as I stared at it was telling me that it's time to let go, its work is done here. It's been with me through thick and thin. Times when I didn't think I would ever stop crying, times when I just wanted to be alone, times when I was happy and times when I was sad.

To know that I would come home and put this sweater on whenever I wanted to would soon be a distant memory. I had to face reality, this sweater has done its job and I had to let it go. Was I ready for that? I don't know...but would I ever be ready to let it go?

So there I sat with this sweater in my one hand and the donation bag in the other. How could I let it go, it's been there through everything! As I stared down at this sweater that could tell a million stories, I realized it was time to pass on this healing sweater to someone who needed it more than I did. I know I’ll find another sweater like my old one...but right now I don't need one anytime soon.

He will be Remembered

Today is the day that my Uncle Lornie (Clarence) lost his battle with cancer…

He was such a good man, so generous, so giving, such a good sense of humor. He was a self-taught musician; he could play any instrument given to him. He's been playing for such a long time that music was second nature to him. He has won numerous awards and prizes for singing and music contests. Anywhere within a 50KM radius, you would find him with his fiddle or guitar in his hand waiting to go on stage…

Did I also mention that he was blind? Yep, he was blind at such a young age. He was able to see everything that went on around him even without his eyes. His instincts and his ear for music were astounding. It only took a few times for him to listen to a track and then be playing and singing it. We all envied that he took the time to really feel the music; and it showed in his playing.

My mom still talks about how he would make her and her sisters all sing; whether it was to harmonize or whether it was to sing the lead vocals. He was always pushing them to their possible best. Being the oldest child I believe that comes with a lot of responsibility, one that he was willing to take on. I mean really having 7-8 younger siblings wasn't an easy task; but he was always there for all of them when they needed some advice or guidance.

He lived his life for so long with what society would call a disability, but we never saw it that way. I don't know if it was because he was blind for so long that we were accustomed to it or because he wouldn't let us see it that way. Amazing how one person can guide your perception and allow us to have a better understanding and acceptance of blindness. I have got to give him kudos for leading such a long, healthy and happy life.

He was a big man for a reason, not only because of his big heart, but because of his big sense of humor. He had nicknames for all my Aunts, even a select few of his nieces and nephews were lucky enough to get a nickname…mine was 'Brown Sugar'. I will always cherish that fact and I will miss him.

But I know that he is gone to a better place, where he will be joined by his 'Gypsy' (his mom), his Dad, his sisters, Frances, Edna and Catharine (who passed away at age 4, but continued to play with him after her death), his son Henry (whom he cradled in his arms) his niece Martinique and many other relatives and friends.

I sometimes wonder if he is able to see now. But then the thought crosses my mind that it doesn't matter if he could use his eyes or not…he always could see. May his hands always have an instrument within them; so he can continue to play his heartfelt music…and on that one clear day, may we be lucky enough to hear it.

Ode to the Ball Team

I just re-read my last blog entry and was a bit saddened as I didn't encompass all that I was feeling when ball ended. I felt I missed out on some very important factors of why I had such a good season this year.

Yes, I will admit I sucked it up pretty bad near the end of the season; but I chalked it up to just too much going on in life. I really, truly had a great season this year! Not because I hit well, or because I played well but because of the friendships that I formed. The newly acquired friendships that I will probably have for many more years to come! I met these people randomly; and I really truly mean that. I literally one day talked to someone who mentioned to someone else that I was looking for a team and poof...my wish was granted! I came home to a message on my answering machine that I was to call Kimmie back regarding ball; so I did and I liked her instantly! I remember saying to myself; I liked her and I couldn't wait to play.

A week later there I was in a ball field, in Beaumont practicing with some new people who I didn't know. But being a ball player that happens a lot and really on a regular basis; you end up playing for someone who got hurt and they need a girl...so you go. It's like the 'Brotherhood of Ball'. I'll never forget after that practice I looked forward to the new season and couldn't wait to play with them all.

After we were able to get the garbage out of us; we finally pulled together as a team, not only because it was the beginning of the season but because we were all starting to come together as a team. I loved it! The comradery of the team brought me back to the times growing up in a small town playing with everyone that you knew because you all grew up together. I felt that with them, and loved every minute of it! I'd been searching for that same feeling since 1998 and I've finally found it! So not only was I saying goodbye to the game, but to my new summer friends!

Pulling my jersey's out of the dryer for one last time made me think to the laughs and the fun. The Spitz, the booze and the G-Spot (garage); all places I that I can't wait to see again!

So here's to my new Summer friends; who I can't wait to see again!

And so Ends Another Season

Yep, that's it...ball is done. I can't believe another season has come and gone so quickly. It feels like only yesterday I was complaining about how crappy I was doing; Oh wait that was only last week! LOL

Even after the complaining I am still sad to have to pack away the ol' ball bag. Which by the way isn't so old anymore...I've upgraded to a new pink model! But just having the pack it away and knowing that it'll be sitting in storage for the next 9 months still breaks my heart.

How do I get over this? Well, there really isn’t ways to have the feelings go away; they just do over time. I know despite my complaining of my poor play at the end of the season, I will still miss it. I will long for the days when the sun is shining, the grass is green and the world is my ball field.

So here is to another season, it may not have been my best but I still loved it anyway!

Something's Gotta Give

Life has a way of throwing things at ya; it starts to pile up with what seems like no end in sight. Here I sit after another game of softball; and honestly I couldn't hit my way out of a wet paper bag if I tried. I expect so much of myself; the pressures that I put on myself are actually quite high. I take it out on myself if I am not up to par and I try and try and try. I am what one might call persistent; I won't give up because I need to find a solution to why I am doing so badly.

With all that is currently going on in my life; I am not surprised that ball has taken a backseat and my performance level has come down quite a bit. Unfortunately I do not have the time to try and rectify the problem.

With work chomping at the bit, my Uncle being diagnosed with Cancer...diagnosis yet to be determined. My b/f's Uncle currently admitted to the Cross Cancer Institute, the two courses that I am taking part-time, the lack of time that I get to spend with my b/f and last but not least the lack of time I get to spend on myself...something had to give.

Do I feel bad that it was ball that had to give? Yes, I really wish that it would've been something else; how can I continue to play a sport that I am feeling that I cannot perform well at? I ask myself that question every time I am driving out there? I'm sure that my teammates are asking themselves that very same question. How can I not feel bad when I know I am letting the team down???

Luckily there is only one more game left in the season and then one final weekend of playoffs. Am I happy about that? Yes! I am so disappointed with my performance that I feel as though it's starting to take its toll...

But all in all; if ball is the one thing that has to give; I'll let it go and start a new season next year. I mean really I got too much else going on to worry about it. 

Why do People Die?

"Why do people die?" asks the inquisitive 8 year old…my response…"I don't know." End of story right, well not really. My first thought is of sadness of 'Yes, why did she/he have to die?' I don't know any more than you do; is my answer a little more embellished about this subject that I know so little about? Yes, I would have to say so. We say what we "think" the person wants to hear OR what we "think" will make the person feel better. Why we do this?? My conclusion is that we don't want to see people that we care about hurting; we want to take this pain away…but we can't…So where does that leave us? That leaves us at the same spot where we started…"Why do people die?"

I had a cousin who I think about on a regular basis who passed away four years ago this August; at the tender age of 23. My first thought is "She was so young." I wonder did she experience all the things a 23 year old should've gone through. She had so much life to live; why was she taken from us so young? How my Aunt must feel…I can't even fathom! There are days when I talk to my Aunt or my mom and we will be discussing my late cousin and they start to cry…I do my best to console them but it just doesn't seem to be enough. We pause, let each other cry; tell them that it's a good thing to remember her and continue on with the conversation. Is this the right procedure?? I don't know, death doesn't come with a rulebook. Hence the reason you hear a lot of people saying that everyone deals with it in different ways.

I personally deal with it pretty much head on; I know it's going to hurt like a son of a bitch; but I do it anyhow. Why?? I don't know; my personality I guess…denial is like the devil to me. I know he's there but I choose to go the other way; is this the right way?? I don't know; but I know that it's my way.

So, how do you explain to an 8 year old why people die? My opinion, you don't; it's one of those 'Live and Learn' things we were told about at such a young age but didn't quite understand.

Again, so where does that leave us..."Why do people die?"

I'm not saying there is a wrong and or a right way; I'm just saying…

When one door closes a window opens

The quiet streets on a Thursday morning surprise me; the music in the car soothes me, the anticipation of dropping off the final ties to my past excites me! Here I sit on this peaceful sunny warm morning thinking "…this is it; I'm done!" 30 blocks away sits a piece of my history awaiting the arrival of the pictures that I got from him only a few short days ago. I've copied them, reminiscing throughout the whole process. Thinking to myself "Why didn't I take these?"

As the street numbers increase my heart starts to beat a little faster and the thoughts keep creeping up in my head, all the "What if" questions. Do I listen, yes! Do I enjoy it, no! As I continually get closer I think to myself "I'll just run in, tell the receptionist who they are for and exit out the door." Yeah, that's a good plan…like there was any other? The flutterby's in my belly start to go in overtime; the thoughts in my mind run around like a chicken with its head cut off. I almost start to feel sick; why? I don't know?

I slowly pull into the parking lot with my heart almost racing; I grab the pictures, talk to the receptionist, drop them off and head out the door. Just as planned! I walk to the car at a moderate pace; get in, put on my seatbelt, put the car into gear and I'm off to work. Just - like - that!

I feel the instant relief of now finally 'Cutting all ties'. Not relief that was caused by my own anticipation; but the relief to know that it is now over…no more anything's. How freeing this feeling was; like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Like I could do just about anything; was it the adrenaline talking? Maybe, but it was the feeling of complete and utter freedom that I relished in. "I'm done" I say to myself as a smile slowly creeps across my face, that's it, the final piece.

And as a calm comes over me I can't help but notice the air smelled fresher, the grass looked greener and the future looked brighter!

Fork in the Road

There in the constant flow of traffic lies the fork in the road, one exit going left and one exit going right. For years I took the right exit; making my way home through all the hub-bub of the world. Not noticing anything that was in my way; nor really caring as long as I could make my way home without getting stuck in a traffic jam. Always noticing that the exit to the left was backed up, slow and well just inconvenient and then all that changed when I moved…..

At first old habits die hard and I found myself "forgetting" to take the left exit when approaching the fork; having to impromptually get into the left lane so that I could too be a part of the slowness and inconvenience of the situation. To my amazement I found that not only was it not as backed up as I had thought but the fluidity of the traffic appeared to be almost seamless. I found myself being quite surprised at just how quickly I could get from one side of the city to the other; I almost started enjoying myself…

Day after day I continued to make the long trip home and letting my sub-conscious take over and allowing myself the pleasure of letting in the poor sap ahead of me who more than likely had to make the transition from the right exit to the left exit. I've even come to terms with the fact that should the left exit get backed up, the right exit which I use to take pleasure in exiting off on has now become my 'Back-up' exit.

What once was my convenient way home has now become my secondary way home and as I drive by the exit to the right I chuckle to myself and think "Man, I was missing out on so much!"

Thank god for the fork in the road!

It Could Happen to You

I couldn't believe it happened to me! I never in a million years thought that it would happen. My friends wouldn't believe it if you told them too. But here I sit recollecting what I still can't believe happened...

The boyfriend and I had to stop at Home Depot and "get a few things". Every woman knows that that means; every woman that is but me. I've never fallen into the category of 'being bored' at a home building centre. There is something to be said for the smell of the freshly cut wood, the sound of the saw buzzing and the clinging of the hardware falling to the ground.

I am usually in tow of a mighty long list of items that "I need" there; whether it be a paint brush or a drill. Personally I love building centre type stores; they fascinate me with all the ornate items they carry. I always seem to find what I need there, with or without the assistance of the yet to be seen 'Sales Associates'.

Yet here I was today at a loss; I had no projects on the go, nothing to build, nothing to paint. How could I come into such a glorious place and NOT have something to buy? How could I not think of anything to buy? I dug my heels in and thought really hard of what "I needed"; with no avail I knew I was beaten. With no projects on the go; I really had no purpose to be there...like a tit on a bull.

What to do now?? I pushed the cart for the boyfriend, loaded some OSB, some patio blocks and carried the load as best I could. I had to be helpful, I had to feel important...but there it was...staring me straight in the face...

W-A-I-T-I-N-G for the boyfriend! Ugh!!! I had no more aces up my sleeve; I had to give in, I had no choice. So I did what most women in Home Depot do...I read a magazine. Yep, I never in a million years thought this day would come; but yet here I am feeling the pain of being a Home Depot Widow.

Land

There it sits; so baron, so interrupted, so disjointed…a piece of property where I played one of my first ball games at what use to be just outside of the city. Just 3 short years ago it was someone's residence; someone's farm, someone's home. The typical farm house with the long driveway, the garage out back and a canola field for a back yard; how could this have changed in 3 years?

I remember driving out there and chuckling to myself at how it reminded me of home. How a team mate hit a foul ball out in the field and all of us having to stop the game to go looking in the field for the lost ball. The scar on my knee is still there from having to crawl through the barbed wire fence; it feels like a lifetime ago and yet here we are…only a mere three years later.

The house is gone, the canola field is gone and the memories are gone. How sad it must've been for the family to have to watch their lives being torn down by a piece of machinery. What was once a nice tranquil farm just outside of the city is now a new sub-division in the city; how quickly one forgets that a family lived out there; raised their family out there and now it's nothing but a new development.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I'm opposed to new development; I just think that there is something to be said for a nice chunk of land being inhabited with a growing family; who of course would have a dog, a garage out back and a view of undisturbed farm land…the way it use to be…

There it was...

There it was, staring back at me...almost mocking me...a stack of cheques with my old address on it. Just sitting on the bottom of my filing cabinet; looking quite pristine with the Oilers logo on it. I picked them up and looked at them, thinking back to when I ordered them, a time when I wasn't sure what I wanted in life. A time when I thought the address on the cheques was going to be forever. A time when I thought I was happy, a time when I decided that "stuff" was going to fill my life, but there just wasn't enough "stuff" to satisfy my palette. How silly to think that "stuff" could make you happy; yet here I am three years down the road and I tell ya I still have a lot of "stuff"; but not just any "stuff"...

My list of "stuff" contains the love and support of my family, my boyfriend, my boyfriend's family, our friends and our two dogs. These are the things that keep me going day in and day out. This is all the "stuff" I need.

The twinge of sadness that came over me was brief; because here I am in my new place with my new "stuff" and I love it.

So what did I do with those cheques you ask??? I did the same thing any woman would do...I took a black marker to the address and used the cheques. Because it doesn't matter where you live; it's how you decide to live it.

Time

Time, the one thing that no one can seem to get a hold of. The one thing in life that there never is enough of, it eludes us, entices us, bores us. Yet we are always at odds with it. How can something so insignificant dictate our lives? Others would beg to differ that time is very significant and plays a vital role in our day to day lives. Yet no one had mastered how to maintain it...

I sit here after my softball game looking at the dust that has accumulated on my desk and think..."If only I had time to clean it..." We are constantly telling ourselves if only we had the time, we would [Fill in appropriate comment here] When will we ever find the time to do what we want and need to get done. I am constantely saying I would do so much more if I had more time; is that a good thing...I don't know??

The more time that I want, the less I seem to have. How much time is enough? This question can be used in many contexts..."How much time do you need to get over a loved one?"; "How much time do you need to get that project done?"; "How much time do you need to go shopping?"..."How much time indeed?"

With our society becoming so fast paced and everything being so convenient; how is it that there isn't enough time? I buy fast food, I buy stuff online, shouldn't that constitute for something? Why can't I ever get enough time?

I am jealous of the people who tell me that they are bored and don't have anything to do; why can't I be like that? Why do I need so much more time than them? Am I being stingy with my time? Do I need to justify why it is that I need this extra time? I don't have kids, I don't have pets that live at my house...why do I need the extra time? I really don't know but I feel that I should get it...LOL

Happiness

I had the Chinese symbol meaning 'Happiness' tattooed on my leg b/c I believe that is what we should truly strive towards. I know that there are many things that get in the way of everyone's happiness but in the end it's all that really matters. It's funny because I've only had the tattoo for roughly 2 years but it feels like I've had it forever. I sometimes look at it and think back to when I got it; finding and keeping happiness was the most important thing to me then …and it still is. I just find it easier to cope with things if I'm happy; life doesn't seem so bleak. Things come together; people are nicer and it's just a better place, mentally for me to be. I wish that I could spread this already common knowledge; it could be a little bit of a reminder is all…..

How this is measured I guess depends on the individual; but for me it's a small reminder that I shouldn't take life so seriously and just be happy. Maybe things will be I want to say better; but maybe I should say different. Not different bad, but different good. Just some food for thought is all…

It’s that Time of Year Again…

It's that time of year again...where the trees get leaves on them, the birds start chirping and I get to pull out my softball glove. I always love this time of year; I get to open up my ball bag and see what treasures await me from last year. You would think with how long I've been playing that I would've mastered cleaning and disinfecting the ball bag each fall...but I don't! Sometimes in the winter if I get real sad about the snow or I start to think that summer is so far away I can unzip my ball bag and get a good whiff of the shale and dirt...and then I somehow come out of my funk.

Ever since I was old enough to catch my dad's windmill pitches I've been playing the sport; I love it! I've never looked forward to playing something so much that it takes over my thoughts. I found myself at the gym last week on the treadmill thinking about playing ball, little did I realize that I had run for 10 minutes straight! I mean talk about consume your thoughts...LOL.

I've never loved a sport so much that I actually still get flutterby's before every game. Yes, EVERY game!!! It's to the point where I must watch what I eat and drink beforehand so that I can make as little trips to the bathroom as possible. I think to myself "Is this what a Professional Athlete goes through before every game?"

I love the adrenaline pumping through my veins, my stomach in knots, the feeling that I get when a ball is well hit. The feeling I get when I can round third and take my time trotting home. And I really do mean trotting, as I run flat footed and that my friends is a sign of a slow runner. LOL The reason I know that is because a guy named Brent (who I used to play ball with) would purposely bat after me so that he could chase me around the bases and yell "Run on your toes!" I think that was the one and only year I actually ran fast! LOL

That was the year that I played for a team called the Allstar Sports and we won every game that we played...all year. A feat that had never been accomplished by anybody, 33 regular season games and we won them all. Then we went on to win all of our playoff games! The last being the most dramatic (Of course!) game I've ever played in my life! There were 2 out and we were down by one run (Did I mention it was our last at bat), and a lady who usually gets out was up to bat and got on base. Then her husband comes up to bat and gets an in the park homerun! (Talk about a Dream ending!) We were all waiting at the plate when he crossed it as we knew we had won. 

We started jumping up and down and couldn't contain our happiness any longer; think Circa Toronto Blue Jays 1993. One of the best times in my life...despite it NOT being front page news for my hometown it was still a victory that no one will ever be able to take away from us.

So here's to another year of sliding into second base, snagging that line drive, catching that incredibly high fly ball and hitting that first homerun of the year.

Here's to not just the commeroderity, but to a sport that I truly love.

Ontario

As I sit here listening to one of my favourite Canadian bands, Blue Rodeo. I think back to my cottage days in Ontario. Oh how I miss those days, I miss listening to the loons on the water, I miss listening to the crickets buzz all night, I miss being able to sit outside and watch the sunset in that breathtaking orange sky! I miss the humidity, I miss the lakes, so deep, so refreshing, so clear. I miss the fishing, b/c honestly how many times can a person go fishing for pike?? I mean really people?? I miss my dad's farm, I miss my grandparent's farm, I miss my grandparents! I miss how I felt no aches or pains, I miss the wildlife...I miss going camping the May 2-4 weekend and going swimming no matter how cold the water is. I miss people knowing what I mean when I say 2-4. I miss the fun times that I had there with so many people whether they were locals or not. I miss the quaintness of the town, I miss the population of only 3400 (it's gone up a whole 1000 people since I was last there!) I miss the maple syrup gathering, I miss the pony pulls that we use to go and watch my grandfather at, I miss the 4 wheeling, I miss the ski-dooing, I miss the dirt biking. I miss knowing the cops and having them let you off because you play ball with them. I miss the hellos from everybody you passed in town because chances are you were either related or they were friends of the family. I miss how people use to call me by my last name, I miss how people use to refer to me as Tanya Parks. I especially miss playing ball, the people, the games, the commroderity. I miss it all.

But I will tell ya something I don't miss...the Blackflies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To Eat or Not to Eat, that is the question.

It all started on Ash Wednesday, February 21, 2007…the day that Lent in the Catholic religion starts. Here is a quote giving a brief explanation of what it is…..

Lent is a season of soul-searching and repentance. It is a season for reflection and taking stock. Lent originated in the very earliest days of the Church as a preparatory time for Easter, when the faithful rededicated themselves and when converts were instructed in the faith and prepared for baptism. By observing the forty days of Lent, the individual Christian imitates Jesus' withdrawal into the wilderness for forty days. All churches that have a continuous history extending before AD 1500 observe Lent.

Did I mention to next quote???

Because Sunday is the day of the Resurrection, we skip over Sundays when we calculate the length of Lent.

Therefore making it 47 days long! 7 days longer than I had originally signed up for! But seeing as Jesus gave his life for us, sacrificing the extra 7 days didn't seem like too much to ask. The first couple of weeks was hard as I was use to having oh lets say for arguments sake 3-4 bowls (I'm talking REAL people size bowls!) of popcorn a week. To have to cut this out completely was a challenge but one that was not as hard as I had originally thought. Instead of filling my cupboards with chips and popcorn; they were filled with rice cakes and my new favourite crackers…Triscuit, the Cracked Pepper and Olive Oil ones!

I must admit that I did notice a difference in not only my skin but in my all over wellness. I had more energy, didn't eat so much salt and butter and I even think my arteries were secretly thanking me. With my new chip and popcorn-free life I started to want to work out more, I even enjoyed water. Hmm, all this from no popcorn and chips; who knew?

As the days started to wear on, I was having the normal cravings…watching bystanders walking by eating their personal sized bags of chips. I was envious! I wondered why I couldn't just have one little chip, I mean it wouldn't hurt anyone??? Despite the cravings I toughed it out and waited…and waited…and waited!

Easter Sunday couldn't come quick enough! I had my whole days worth of meals all planned out; I can tell you that a Weight Watchers drop out would've been so proud of me! I would have a popcorn breakfast, compiled of 'Buttery' and 'Cheddar' popcorn; Lunch would consist of Chips; many different flavours…maybe 5 or 6 personalized bags…and then there was Supper, of course that would be Nachos! Well really just lots of shredded cheese with nacho chips underneath. Meals fit for a King…artery clogging and not nutritious! The countdown was on…

Prior to Easter Sunday, we'd made all the necessary stops at all the appropriate stores, acquiring all the necessities…chips, popcorn, cheese! The morning finally arrived and I did indeed grab a few chips but was surprised by the insistence from my body that I wanted toast, with honey NOT chips! After satisfying my pallet I decided it was time to dig in…unfortunately I couldn't get into the "mood". I forced a few chips down, even trying to mask the dissatisfaction of the flavours with some sour cream. To my surprise they tasted ok, not as spectacular as I had remembered. Something seemed amiss I continually grazed on the bag of chips all day but didn't find the satisfaction that I was yearning for! At this point I found it cumbersome and just decided to not bother; I would go home and enjoy a bowl of popcorn later tonight…that would definitely satisfy me.

I arrived home with my box of popcorn in hand; eager to open the package, pop it in the microwave and enjoy the flavours melding in my mouth. I was almost salivating at the thought; I believe I even watched it pop. The aroma that wafted through the house was pleasant; I welcomed it like a long lost friend. As the timer on the microwave counted down I prepared the usual bowl, grabbed the seasoning salt and waited…

After the seasoning salt and the forbidden food hot in my hands; I was ready! Ready to dive into the meticulously popped and seasoned popcorn; that I had waited 47 days for!!! The first piece went in like nothing had changed; I felt it melt in my mouth, the flavours that I had deprived myself of for so long were "just ok"; not phenomenal, not amazing, not even missed. Something had changed! My rhythm was gone; I'd dropped pieces on the floor, the couch, even a few down my shirt…a feat that I only saved for the movie theatre; so that when I got undressed after the movie I had a little treat just before bed! I couldn't quite place it; it felt like an out of body experience??? Why was something that was second nature to me, so foreign? I thought maybe something wasn't right so I attempted to give it the old college try and continue eating…maybe I could get my rhythm back. After polishing the bowl for popcorn off; I couldn't help but feel…well…ill! The film that the popcorn had left on my teeth, the popcorn skin stuck between my teeth, the heaviness of my belly! Something that my body was NOT accustomed to and definitely NOT enjoying!

I found that consuming about 10 gallons of water, I started to feel a bit better. I couldn't believe how much water I needed to get myself back to where I was just a short 20 minutes ago. I did not like this ill feeling, I did not seem to have the same fondness of my "comfort" food that I once had. What was wrong? Maybe the 47 days without it really did help; maybe I don't need it as much as I had originally thought...who knows??? All I know is that I am allowed to eat chips and popcorn and honestly I'm not sure that I want them??

We'll see what happens; but knowing that I have the option makes it easier to pass by the chip table at parties…who knows maybe I'll start eating more veggies! 

How Odd??

I find it funny that my last post was about high school memories; which by the way I never think back and reminisce about and this past weekend I was recently introduced to a website called 'Facebook' and I must say I was pretty egg-cited to find that there was a site dedicated to my old school and a lot of my old school mates. What are the chances?? I write one blog about high school memories and within a week I'm transported back to actually be able to contact these people...

It seems that there is this constant need to find people; whether it's someone that you went to school with, an old best friend or just someone that you lost contact with. I've been rekindling relationships with people that I knew back in high school; I wonder what they do. I wonder if they're married. I wonder if they have kids. I wonder if they'll judge me b/c I don't have any of the above? Is this normal? It's kind of like being back in high school again, wondering if they'll accept me for what I've accomplished and where I am today? How weird that I'm taken back to all those familiar feelings that I had in high school; I wonder if they have them too?

I chatted it up with a friend who reminded me of a few of the escapades that I did and honestly I don't know if I just forgot them or if I suppressed them all these years! LOL I'm hoping that it was just a memory lapse; as I feel like I somewhat moved out of my home town and just left it all behind. 

I didn't keep in contact with anyone, not even family; is this normal? Maybe there is a part of me that doesn't want to remember as it wasn't so pleasant. I know that every kid has bad memories from high school and probably wishes that they could do it all over again; but really would you want to? I mean just getting back in touch with these people has caused me to wonder just how much of my life that I want to share with them. It's almost and uneasy feeling and I don't know why as the people that I have had contact with are NOT judgemental and just the nicest people you'll ever meet! 

I can't explain it but the uneasiness is there; maybe it's just nerves as I know that there are some unresolved issues that may present themselves and I'm not sure of the consequences. But we'll see and as for where this takes me…I hope it's down memory lane, and I hope that they are all good!

Brought Back to a Time When…

After watching an hour of Much Music's 'Back in' I was lead down a path of memories. Brought back to life by such things as wearing overalls with one strap done up, Madonna's 'Vogue', Parachute Pants, Pretty Woman and even AC/DC's Thunderstruck! I sat there in awe of just a decade ago; where our thoughts were as fleeting as the fashions. I couldn't believe how much has changed in such a short period of time.

A short clip of Dances with Wolves came on TV and I was instantly taken back to a field trip in High School. Being from a small town where there was no movie theatre...can you imagine??

I remember being in awe of such a place that had to bus it's students an hour and a half away to watch a movie. The conversations that ensued on the bus were enlightening to say the least! I can't pinpoint exactly what was said; but I'm sure it had something to do with Bill liking Patti or something along those lines...

I miss those carefree days of just talking about well...Nothing! I mean looking back, it was nothing but at the time 'Boy was it something'. Not having to care about a mortgage or responsibility; our biggest concern was who would be asking us to the dance or had we made the cut for the volleyball team. Things that seem so miniscule now was the world back then; how funny it is to think of the stunts we pulled...

Remembering the dances, the parties, the drinking...UGH the drinking! The stupid things that made us happy and who we are today; I can't help but think back and be overcome with joy...

I can't say that I would go back and re-live some of those moments but I will say that they were good times and I just hope that when you hear Milli Vanelli's 'Blame it on the Rain' you'll think of your younger days with a smile...just as I have!