LIFE AS I DREAM IT

And so ends another Christmas season safely tucked away into my closet of treasures and an old year filed away within the confines of my mind.  I ended 2010 by sitting down at the ocean with my better half guzzling back steaming hot chocolates and toasting the fact that we had somehow survived.  In one of my more cornier moments of life and not one for ritualization, I closed my eyes and inhaled the crisp winter wind and visualized letting go of any unpleasant memories of 2010 while holding onto the moments that touched my heart and made me grow as a person. From sadness to happiness, from being house bound to road trips, 2010 had it's share of every emotion imaginable.  And I am happy to let it slip away.

And now begins the beauty of a new year, fresh with no mistakes, well not yet anyways, and I am embracing it with my fingers crossed and my eyes wide open.

January always instills this feeling of urgency and anxiousness in me.  I am sure that it has something to do with spring around the corner.  New life coming forward, plants bursting forth, freshness, sweetness, and in my humble opinion, nature at its best.  I cannot wait to go outside, breathe in the air, stick my hands in the earth and connect. Perhaps, a tad crazy, but a new year brings me hope that life will finally go as planned, with no bumps or hiccups along the way. Yes a delusional thought at best.

I feel the need to make plans for my year and I sit and doodle on my calendar with the hopeful anticipation that "this year" might be the year we finally go to Italy.  "This year" might be the year I make more time for me.  "This year" might be the year I spend more time being adventurous. "This year" might be the year I am more spontaneous. And "this year" might be My Year.

I sit dreamily in January planning the next 11 months of my life, and realizing at the end of the year, that nothing had gone as planned. On my road of life, I tend to be easily distracted and end up going down side roads that lead to dead ends.  It would be a bust for me, if it wasn't so much fun hitting all those metaphorical potholes along the way.

In any event, I can tell you that this Average Girl is ready. And whatever 2011 has in store for me, it will be all good, because My Life can be exactly as I dream it, well as long as I stay off those pesky side roads.

All the best to you in 2011.

ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS

We are nearing the end of 2010, and quite frankly, I am looking forward to a new year.  2010 was a year of uncertainties, unanswered questions and moments of helplessness.  2010 consisted of days of crying and feeling sorry for myself and months of trying this pain medication and that pain medication. And, I must admit, I do not like who I have become. No longer willing to sit on my laurels and wait the outcome of diagnosis after diagnosis by specialists, I have decided to make 2011 the Year of Tracy.  A strong focus on not dealing with the pain but fighting thru it and coming out the other side, perhaps slightly scathed, but stronger, healthier and more importantly, as pain free as I possibly can be.

I long for a sense of freedom from the chains that have bound me for years.  In my nightly dreams, I envision travels to exotic destinations, bike rides and long walks, sitting in movie theatres and explorative drives all without the assistance of some magic little pill which has been dictating whether these moments would be possible.  I dream of yoga in the morning and belly dancing at night followed by days of work without ice packs or heating pads.  I dream of moments where my massages are for relaxation indulgences only and not related to working out the latest series of trigger points.  I dream of moments where I can just wear my engagement ring because I can as oppose to how swollen my fingers are that day.

I long to be tired at the end of the day because my day was so wonderfully satisfying, not because I can barely move.

In simple terms, I dream of living a fulfilling life.  The half assed life is no longer an option for me.

I hold the power of the destination in my hands and I am putting my foot down as I am no longer prepared to allow doctors and specialists tell me what I can and cannot do.  I know my limitations, but I also have to believe in the power of me.  I am strong and I know it.  But somewhere along the line, I let others decide my fate.  No longer allowing them to be my puppet masters, I am going to take control.  A gentle but aggressive control of my fate.

And so with 2010 ending, I bid adieu along with a kick to its ass and a cheerful "don't let the door hit you on your way out" and I am giving a quick hug and peck on the cheek to 2011 as I bulldoze my way thru it.

Because at the end of the day I can only say this:  Life is what you make it, and these past several years has been unacceptable because I want more, I deserve more, but most importantly, I am more.

Enough said.  *as she steps off her soap box*

Until Next Time.

Smooches Pooches

IN LOVE WITH CHRISTMAS

It’s the weekend before Christmas and the jovial hustle and bustle of the season is disappearing and being replaced with sheer panic.  I watched outside my office window on Friday as people were frantically running in and out of stores with manic looking faces. My humour is often twisted and I found the craziness absolutely hilarious.  At lunch time, I took a mandarin orange and sat out on the bench in front of my office and people watched.  I knew that I looked quite calm because I felt it  and I knew that my Christmas shopping has long since been purchased, wrapped and delivered to those I will not see on Christmas day.  One woman actually told me I looked too “gawd damn happy", for which I broke out into another fit of the giggles.  She snorted at me and I could see she did not appreciate my amusement. I wondered what she would have thought had she known that I have already started my Christmas shopping for next year?  Perhaps, that is better left unknown.

I look forward to the yearly traditions that the holiday season provides to me.  From sitting and watching the same Christmas movie year after year with my mom, to tearing bread to get it ready for stuffing the next day, to opening one small gift on Christmas Eve.  Little moments are in abundance and filled with simple happiness. Christmas mornings are sweet and innocent and even the pooches get into it.  My better half makes a scrumptious breakfast and we eat and relax while listening to Christmas music.  Later in the day we settle down with the rest of our extended family and some how survive the chaos that ensues with the too many cooks in the kitchen and too many opinions on whether the turkey is done.  We eat and rest our rather fully bellies followed by games aplenty. It is a tumultuous joy.

And when everyone has gone, we sit quietly in the soft hues of the Christmas Tree lights reflecting on the day.  Good or bad, it is always memorable.

For some it is about the religious aspect of the day, for which I respect.  For me, however, when it is all said and done, it is not about the receiving of anything but it is about the giving of myself and the much needed reminder of how blessed I am. But mostly, and as corny as it sounds, it is all about the joy of  being in love with Christmas.

Until Next Time.

Smooches Pooches

The Long Hair cometh, the Long Hair goeth (with a great big old yank!)

Oh the joys of being a woman and the joys of getting older as a woman.  You know, I am a fair haired, blue eyed chick.  Hair on my body (with the exception of my head) from the neck down has never been an issue with me.  I have never had to shave my thighs, nothing there basically.  I am pretty hairless in my bikini area (I know, lucky me!). I virtually have no hair on my arms with the exception of a few blonde scragglers but nothing to write home about.

But the other day, I had the biggest shock of my female life.  I was sitting looking at myself in my 300 x magnification mirror checking out my overly large pores when I noticed something bizarre on the outside of my right nostril. Was it an eyelash, no it was too straight.  Was it an eyebrow, no not thick enough.  Was it a fibre off a piece of clothing, no it wasn’t that either.  On closer examination I realized that whatever it was, was attached to my face!  Oh are you kidding me!!!! Oh my freaking lord, I have a hair growing straight out of the side of my nostril.  No, not in my nostril.  But on the outside growing in a complete straight line towards my cheek bone.  It was so straight and so long that I am sure if I swung my head around quickly, I could have taken someone’s eye right out!  It had camouflaged itself into a very lovely shade of blonde and oh how it blended with my skin tones.

In that moment of seeing that unwanted nose hair, I screamed in horror.  My poor better half came flying down the stairs at an alarming rate.  He grabbed my pudgy face and said “what honey, what’s wrong, are you hurt, did you fall?”  No I sobbed and then pointed to my nostril “look can you see it?”  He strained his eyes until he caught a glimpse of the offending appendage and than he said those magical words “oh great, I am engaged to an ape!”  And then he laughed all the way down the hallway! 

It dawned on me at that moment that my worst nightmare was starting to come true.  Years ago when I was a wee lass, I had seen this older plump Italian woman, and not only did she have a full on foo manchu moustache, but she was sporting her best Robin Hood goatee.  I had nightmares about her facial hair for years and I guess you could say I have been obsessed with hair on my face ever since than. 

So with my best set of tweezers, I plucked that bugger right out of my nose and let me tell you, it didn’t go with out a fight! Because as I was tugging at it, my nostril was being pulled at the same time!  By the time, that bloody little thing popped out, my poor nostril had been stretched to a two finger width!

On a side note, I was telling my mom about it and the first thing she said was “Oh gawd, please don’t blog about this!”  Sorry mom!

In any event, me and my nostril are not going to be thwarted by a hair.  Do you think that they do laser hair removal for one hair off the nostril?  Too much?

Oh well, perhaps I will just let it grow.  Maybe if I just let it grow long enough, it will be able to scratch my cheek!  See, always a bright side people, always a bright side!

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches

DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR?

Gently it descends upon me

Falling gracefully before me

Surrounding and enveloping me

Caressing and loving me

It kisses my soul

and leave me longing for more

It brings me joy and peace

with warmth

and solitude

And it rings a mystical tune

in my heart and in my ears

It is the sound of the beauty of

Christmas

IT'S ANOTHER SUNDAY MORNING

The Heavens have opened up with a ferocious rain that is mercilessly bouncing off the road and the sky is blacker than the ace of spades. It's 8:30 a.m. but it feels more like midnight. I am told its the Pineapple Express on route from Hawaii and kissing the coast of the western side of Canada. Flood warnings are in effect but the sounds of a million drops pounding on my roof is nothing short of spectacular. My oblivious pooch and my better half are still snug as bugs in bed, deeply snoring their trumpet like song.

I am up and about as my back can only take so long in a lying stance before I plump up like a painful sausage.  In all honesty, I am okay with getting up early.  It's my time.  Quiet and peaceful, I am alone in the neighbourhood while all other homes remain in blackness.

I wander around my little place of solitude and put on the fire and curl up with a blanket.  And I drift deep into my thoughts only popping out of them every once in awhile when the house lets out a small groan as it settles around me.

I make myself a lovely cup of lavender tea and snap on the Christmas Tree lights and gaze at it adoringly. Just a soft glow, but oh how that glow puts me into a serene trance.  Thoughts stop whirling around and my over active brain goes silent and I am just here in this moment.  This wonderful, blissful moment.

And then I realize...... 

It's just another amazing Sunday morning.

Until Next Time

Smooches Pooches

A MOVELESS RAIN DANCE

It’s raining today, and out of nowhere, my senses have been exhilarated with this deep feeling that my soul is cleansing it’s self. The skylight above me renders a constant pitter patter noise and I am adoring it. I pull my sweater closer around my neck while my eyes flutter in an attempt to remain open and focused.

Thoughts and ideas flit thru my mind, but I am too relaxed to be able to retain them. I am having a moment where I feel peaceful. So ironic for me.

I jump up from my desk at the lunch hour and walk outside and stand there while the sky drizzles down upon me, doing my own version of a moveless impromptu rain dance. Drops are glistening in my hair and then silently rolling down my cheeks and it feels so good. People walk past and give me crazy looks. I smile back and even cheekily say “you should try it some time”. They scamper away from the lunatic on the sidewalk who allows the rain to soak her. But the rain is not soaking me, it’s saturating my soul. Curiously, I feel warm rather than cold. But I understand, the rain is washing away the accumulation of disappointments that I have been holding onto so tightly and for far too long. Slowly and ever so slightly, I feel small releases as each one leaves me. I tell myself it is time to move on from those things I have no control over.

And then, in a moment of haste, I almost miss her. The sweetest child with blonde hair and blue eyes looking up at me perplexed. She blinks and strains her lovely face my way until the recognition dawns on her and she smiles and looks up at the sky. I stand there mesmerized as I watch beautiful silver streaked droplets of water splash on her soft brown eyelashes giving her an almost ethereal glow. She slips her warm soft hand into mine. My heart beats hard because I know her. I once was her. Innocent and happy, kind and thoughtful, with the world before me. She tells me that all will be okay and for a fleeting moment I believe her. I bend down and kiss her forehead and say “I know sweetheart”.

And then, with a turn and a sigh and a yank of my warm duvet, I wake up to the beautiful sound of the rain falling gently on my roof. And my day begins.

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches

LESS THAN PERFECT!

I am crabby.

There I said it.  Everyone is driving me nuts today.  I am speaking thru gritted teeth and I seriously feel like knocking someone between the ears.  My face is so pinched and tight, I think I have developed a new wrinkle.  I am doing that pursing of the lips thing and grinding my teeth together.  Oh good grief, I see glimpses of my cantankerous grandma in me, and if I could smack my gums together, we would be twins!

No I am not pms-ing or menopausing!  I am crank-a-fying.  What is crank-a-fying you ask?  Well its when I have had enough of everything. An accumulation of things that I have held in until *POOF*, I explode! Happens several times a year to me. I am pretty good about always being very nice to everyone, but every once in awhile I hit the concrete wall *SMACK, BANG, SPLAT* head first.  I shake myself out and I become Super Angry Chick! Today, I want to beat my boss over the head with a file, I want to hang my clients out of the windows by their ankles, I want to grab the lips of anyone with a sweet loving smile on their face and yank their bottoms lips down to their toe tips and then up the backside of them till I yank it right over their big bloody block head!

I spent the morning visualizing shoving coffee grinds up the old man’s nose that works with me and shoving sugar cubes down his underwear.

I can’t even go on facebook today because if I read one more lovely sugar coated status line, I will not be able to be held responsible for my actions.

Ah yes I see all your faces now.  You thought I was this sweet thing didn’t you!  Yah, you are not alone, that is what my better half thought too!  Man was he surprised the first time I became Super Angry Chick!  You would think after 7.5 years he would learn to walk away, but nope, he thinks if he kisses me and hugs me things will get better.  I do my usual which is to grab hold and twist whatever is in my eye view, which in his case is his nipples.  Poor Bugger. Those purple nurples must kill!

Lucky for me and everyone around me this is much like a 24 hour flu bug.  Tomorrow, I will be me again, right after I gobble a pound of chocolate, eaten a jar of pickles, ran out and screamed at the neighbourhood children, beaten my pillow into submission and ran naked down the street while men in little white coats try to hunt me down.

What can I say, I am so not perfect!

Until Next Time.

I think!!!

HOW LONG WILL YOU BLOG?

I have a whirling mind.  Did you know that?  Thoughts enter in and out of my head like flashes from a camera bulb.  Some of my best thoughts happen while I am having my morning constitution. Gross but true.  I equate it to the fact that I am dispelling the old out of my body so that the new can enter into a clean area.  Fresh ideas, fresh thoughts.  And by the next day, *flush* goes the old thoughts again. I use to write poetry as a teenager and all my best poems came in the middle of the night.  I was pretty good at it too. *This is where I do some unabashed bragging so close your eyes if you are concerned about nauseam*  I won several awards and two international awards, was asked to come to the States to be presented with one of them by a pretty famous comedian and got offered a book deal to publish one of my poems when I was 17.

Now as I get older and am probably a mere 10 years off menopause, I am already finding that I am starting to become sleepless and surrounded in an abundance of my thoughts. Questions, questions, questions pop up in the middle of the night whilst I attempt to slumber away.  And then poof, I am wide awake contemplating my question, or drafting my next blog post, or being still as rhyming words enter in.

Last night, the question that popped into my head was “how long will I blog for”?  Will it bore me at some point, or *gasp*, will I bore you at some point?  Will readership fall off and I am left blogging out in cyberspace just to have my redundant thoughts reverberating somewhere out in the unknown?

I often wonder how I can keep my blog fresh, for me, so that boredom doesn’t start to seep in.

I scanned a great deal of blogs over the last 8 months since I started this crazy endeavor of mine. The oldest blog I have seen was three years old.  The rest were within the last year and half.  Makes me wonder if at some point you just burn out and shut it all down.  What’s worse is that I am already seeing on some other blogs regifting of previous posts.  I am guilty myself in fact.  Not that there is anything wrong with that, but I wonder if they are having difficulty coming up with worthwhile material.

So I wonder, how long will you blog?  And when will it become enough for you?

I think for me it will be when I am no longer being true to myself.  It will be that moment where I am grasping at something or anything just to post for the sake of posting. It will be a substandard version of me.

And that should be the moment when I tip my hat, take my last bow and bid adieu.

Until Next Time.

Smooches Pooches

A SOUL-FULL MATE

The other night, I was upstairs in our den with my better half and we had started wrapping Christmas gifts.  We were like a well oiled machine.  He did the paper wrapping, and I did the real ribbon decorating on each package.  We popped a movie into the computer and barely made a sound for several hours, with the exception of “honey could you pass the tape” or “baby do you know where the scissors went too” followed by quick sweet little kisses on my cheek or me giving him a tiny squeeze of his adorable bottom.  It was a peaceful contentment with each other.  And, no words were needed.

I love these moments with each other and often wish to freeze them in time.  They are soft yet subtle, they are sweet with a steamy twist, they are unexpected and relaxing and they are much more than words.  Describing these moments, would undoubtedly do them injustice, but they are beautiful in their own way.

I am so blessed you know. Every day, he looks over at me at some point and says “I love you” followed by “tons”.  Other days, he will just say “do you know why I love you” and I will say why, and he will spill out what it is in his heart that particular day.  Yesterday, he put up five fingers and said.

1.  You are so understanding

2.  You are so loving

3.  You are so kind

4.  You are so beautiful

5.  I can’t imagine a day without you.

Makes me a little teary as I think about it.  He wears his heart on his sleeve when it comes to me and I am careful not to bruise the sweet innocence of it.

So what is it that I am trying to say here.  Well, when I first my better half, I knew he was not my soul mate.  I had already met my soul mate many moons before and it was not meant to be in this life time.  For years, I was sadden by it.  

But then my better half came along and what he contributes to my life is much more than the term of "soul mate".  He has become my defender, my protector, my lover, my friend and not only did he grow within my heart, he grew around it encompassing my soul with his warmth and filling the remaining empty spots.  In essence, he made my soul full.  

And while we are not perfect in any stretch of the imagination, what we are is a ladder of life to each other.  When one gets stuck on a rung, the other gives a hand and a pulls the other one up to the next level.  We are a team.  A unity.  A one. And it leaves me breathless with gratitude.

Until Next Time.

Smooches Pooches

STORYTELLING TUESDAY: The Transformation

I thought I would try something new today and write a very short story in the hopes that it will hone my writing skills.  In actuality, I have no idea why I am doing this.  And the probability is that you will be snoozing by the end... But what the heck, here it goes!

The air was crisp and the ground was hard.  Fall had graciously began what winter needed to end.  The landscape had been ever so slightly kissed by the kindness of Jack Frost leaving a brilliant scene of crystal white shards among the foliage.  And when the moonlight hit it just right, the forest was transformed into a celebration of a thousand tiny twinkle lights.  I could feel my bare feet gliding across the cold, damp earth and I had a sensation of being here before.

My humble body felt a soothing vibration of unison and at last I had felt the connection to nature that I had so longingly desired.

I stood still in the silence of the night, no fear in my senses, no feeling of cold under my feet, just an understanding that I was one with my surroundings.

Low humming darted back and forth behind my head and I could feel myself slipping into a peaceful trance.  A million tiny sparks fluttered against my body gently caressing me.  I closed my eyes and surrendered to a power stronger than my own, and then I slumped to the ground.

I could smell and feel the dampness of the earth against my face, but I had no strength to pull myself up away from it, nor did I want too. I laid there in a semiconscious state for what seemed like an eternity.  My eyes were heavy and my limbs tingling, and without warning, a delectable searing pain straight from the centre of my back took my breath away. I arched in agony and threw back my head to scream, but no sound came from my lips.  And then in the hush of the night, I could feel something so undescribably beautiful growing softly from my body.  It was the tangible wings of my soul.

Graceful and delicate they glowed with the essence of my life, and I knew that my moment of transformation had begun. Whisked up and away into a tunnel of light, I swirled around and around ensconced in a magenta glow until my body burst forth from my radiant cocoon.

I had left my human form.

And as my eyes opened, I realized I was now one of the captivating lights and that my wings were humming in harmony with the others.

I had come home.  Finally.

Home to the land of the faeries.

Home to the land of my people.

PEACEFUL CONTENTMENT

Staring out my window, the snowflakes fall softly and gracefully to the ground.  A mere whisper from mother nature as she delicately adorns us with her beauty.  The Church across the street stands silent with only the stain glass windows providing a symphony to the eyes against the white back drop of silence.  I hear a wild rendition of the Carol of the Bells on the radio and I am starting to feel melancholy. 

Christmas is coming.  And with it, the joys of tradition.

For me, it is about moments of giving to those whom I adore and love.  It is sitting on my brother’s couch after a wonderful meal with one of my beautiful nieces sitting down beside me whilst I idly twist her hair between my fingers into soft curls, listening to the sounds of laughter coming from my gracious sister in law, the fire hissing and crackling it’s song of winter, soft knowing smiles from my better half, gazing at the twinkly eyes of my mother and laughing at the wit of my humorous brother.  Competition and teasing combine together to create moments of pure happiness during games of cards.  Shouts of “you cheated” to indignant looks of “never” followed by small cheeky smiles, all happily bring back memories of my childhood.  The music is classically Christmas and pulls at the heart strings.  I am full from not just my dinner but from the crazy dynamics of my family that ultimately leaves me smiling.

It’s about the time together.  The fleeting moments of love surrounded by the warmth of all the wonderment of the season.  The memories of today to be etched in my forever book neatly filed within my mind. 

It is a peaceful contentment.

And as I share my memories with you today, I had this thought and I wondered if any of you would be interested.  I was thinking how wonderful it would be to share a tradition or a memory that makes this time of year so special for you.  If you are interested, I would love to feature your memories here every Monday from now till Christmas.  All you have to do is email me at freds.mommy@gmail.com.

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches

A WINTER'S KISS

Do you feel the soft quiet

hush of winter?

I do and it is so lovely!

This weekend I will be linking up with

Seasonal Sundays and thank the Tablescaper

for hosting same.

Happy Weekend to You.

Until Next Time.

Smooches Pooches

A WINTER'S DANCE

Old Man Winter has finally come to visit and leaving his gentle touch wherever he goes.  From various colours of grey painted skies, to frosting on our roofs, to the bows of trees sparkling with a web of silver, to his butterfly kisses across my face in the morning air.

And while I mock and tease those who are excited about the first snow, secretly I adore winter.  This season always invokes wonderful memories of my childhood past, from snow ball fights and snow angels, to creating paper snowflakes, to being surrounded in family.  Longings deep within my soul whirl around like fall leaves caught in a gust of wind.

The white old man reminds me of Christmases past and cherished family members that have long since left this earth.  He reminds me of my adored and much loved childhood dog and warm fires, Sundays in pajamas, homemade hot chocolate and baking with my mother.

My memories are vast and large and all encompassing, and much like a scene in a snow globe, they has been frozen in time.

As I get older and our family branches from direction to direction, I can’t quite hold onto the winters of my past.  They were simple and uncomplicated and full of beauty and I miss them.

Holidays have become about spreading myself too thin from traveling here to there and seeing this person to seeing that person, and I grow weary of the changes.  This time of the year always brings me moments of regret for not having children.  And I latch onto my beautiful nieces all the more, well aware that they are growing up. And as one informed me last weekend, will be moving to a new country for University in two short years and my heart breaks again.  I miss her already and fear she won’t come back. I strain to see the child in her but I can’t.  And as they grow older, so begins another change to our winter traditions.  It is growth.

Why is it that we wish to hold onto those childhood moments.  I suppose it’s because as a child they seemed perfect.  I am betting however my parents would tell me that they were full of imperfection that my innocent young eyes would not have grasped.  I prefer to keep these cherished memories as untarnished highlights of my life.

Beautiful, endearing moments of my heart and I would not have it any other way.

Yes, Old Man Winter is welcome at my house along with his ice encrusted suitcase full of my memories.  In fact, I look forward to our first Winter’s dance together, under the sky while snowflake confetti lightly touches my face and sticks to my eyelashes and I twirl under the beauty of it all feeling like the enthralled five year old of my dreams.

He is my winter lover, my solace, my moment of dreams and my friend. And like all old friends, he will always have a place in my heart and in my home.

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches.

This week I will be linking up with Best Posts of the Week and thank them for hosting same.

THE HANDS OF A STRANGER

It’s Wednesday and the middle of the week.  My nerves are twisted and taut from the stress of my job.  Home seems to be a boring and a bland place to hang.

Everyone wants a piece of me and I feel the need to escape, and so I do.  With a twitch of my nose, I transport myself to a Spa.  But no ordinary spa, one that is entrenched within the beauty of a historic, romantic castle.  Where the walls are ensconced in warm candlight.  Soft lyrical tunes of a harp play somewhere off into the distance.  I strain to hear where it comes from, but there are too many intriguing hallways and I am left to stand in my silk robe and bare feet wondering and hoping that I will eventually get a sneak peek at the musical instrument that transports me to another time and era.  And just as I am about to slip into a musical trance, a rugged deep and throaty voice that send chills up my back calls to me.  I turn in time to catch the silhouette of a tall, dark stranger heading thru gothic like doors, but not before he pauses and turns to look at me with his piercing green eyes.  He beckons to me: It’s time for your massage bonita, he says with a roll of his Spanish tongue that sends tiny little shivers down through my hips and into the tip of my toes. I am his servant with no will of my own and follow him without question.

Without will and thought, I lay upon a table drapped in soft sensual fabric and I close my eyes as I smell his muskiness and drift off into a land of ease as his warm muscular hands work to loosen my tense and strained body.

And in a moment of quietness and pure unabashed bliss, he bends down with that husky voice of his and purrs into my ears:

“Why are you here?”

I softly say back: “I just need a place to escape.” and then I sigh as his hands travel further down my back and I snuggle deeper into the softness of the fabric draped table.

“What my beautiful, would make your life complete?” he says so softly that I barely can hear him.

I don’t answer because I don’t know, so I just close my eyes and drift.  Somewhere between heaven and earth, my soul floats surrounded by this moment of pleasure.  And I lose myself.

Later as I leave, I see you standing there waiting your turn.  I give you that smile that says “you are in for a treat”.  And as I look at you again, I realize that you know, you’ve been here before and that is why you are back.

And as I walk past the door of his room, I hear him say to you:

“What my beautiful, would make your life complete?”

And you say......................

NOVEMBER'S COLOURS

And a soft kiss from mother nature

Until Next Time.

Smooches Pooches

THE GRASS IS NOT ALWAYS GREENER

As long as I have known myself, I have lived behind a wall of humour. I am not protecting myself from anything. It's just that laughing is a much more pleasant way to go thru life. But behind my humour, I battle some serious moments of unhappiness, due to a part of my life that I have been grieving the loss of for several years.

This is a difficult blog for me to post about, and I am sure that I will take a lot of heat for it, but in any event, I am talking about my single life. Lately, I have been reading a lot of blogs by a lot of wonderful, single women, whom I adore and whom I would never want to offend. They often write about searching, wanting, needing and wishing for love to appear for them. I, of all the people you will meet, can completely relate as I was single for a long period of time before the right man entered into my life.

There are days though that as much as I adore these wonderful single women, I just want to shake them and say "snap out of it"! Because, the fact of the matter is that the grass is not always greener on the other side. I am a true testimony to that. When I was single, my life was lacking in love, but it was unbelievably full. I was busy, I was hanging out with my girlfriends, we were going and doing things. Dinners, movies, lunches, theatre, spa dates, girl parties, you name it the sky was the limit. We took courses and learned new things, we went for cocktails and sat at pubs. We traveled, we ate, we drank wine, we giggled, we ooohed and aaahhed, we wished for, we dreamed together, we shared our hopes, our thoughts, our desires but mostly, we bonded. We bonded so strongly and developed a sisterly love for each other that we hoped would stand the test of time. We were wrong.

I wouldn't trade my better half for the world, but a part of my life died when we became a couple. No longer able to go out on a moment's whim to a girl function, my life became dictated around what we as a couple had planned. This is part of being a considerate person in the relationship. Listen, I realize that your life does not end the moment you are in relationship, but if you think that you are going to spend the same amount of time with your girlfriends, you are wrong. When you enter into a relationship, you have to think of your partner and their needs, as well as your own, and spending the quality time with them to make your relationship grow, or it just won't work. Especially in today's society when we are all working so hard in our lives, from careers, to children, to family, to friends, something will always have to take a backseat as there is just not enough time in the day.

So what am I trying to say here: well, I love my better half. You all know that. He is fun, crazy, weird, goofy, and for someone who asked me yesterday, yes he does have his sense of smell, he just doesn't care that I fart (thank gawd or this relationship would have ended on day one!). But the fact of the matter is that the special girl time that you as single women are enjoying is invaluable, memorable, wonderful, indescribable and nothing in the world compares to the bonding of women. Being single is such a special time in your life. It is complete freedom, there is no one to answer to but yourself, it is moments of indulgence, it is moments of yourself, it is about you, and only wonderful you, and I am even choking up as I write this as that is how much I miss it.

Value what you have, whether that be a relationship, or whether that be singleness. There are perks and downfalls to each. But whatever stage of life you are in, enjoy that ride until it comes to an end because I can tell you that for every single girl standing with her face pressed against a window looking in at a couple, there is a woman in a relationship standing on the other side of that window looking out at the single girl with a longing and her arms outstretched.

Now I am going to go and blow my nose and fix my mascara and hope that you will still love me after this crazy rant.

In the meantime, note that I am only speaking from my perspective and that I am pms-ing *blink blink*...

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches

EXTRA EXTRA.... READ ALL ABOUT IT!

It's an Average Life has gone to the papers!

Yup, I am officially a published writer with my monthly column in the Lifestyles section of a newspaper.  And, I can barely believe it!

When the paper arrived today, I was like a kid in a candy store.  In fact, after my better half phoned me at work to let me know, I was bouncing in my seat. Up and down, up and down, up and down like a complete moron!  My whole body was tingling and I felt like I was going to explode with joy!  Literally, it took all my self control not to run down the streets of my little town screaming at the top of my lungs (not that anyone would notice, as it is pretty much par for the course here). 

And the joy has not faded!  But I have to tell you something, I couldn't read my article.  Can you believe it?  I was absolutely embarrassed and I am not sure why!

All these crazy weird thoughts have been running thru my mind like: What the heck are these people going to think of me?  Nuts?  Perhaps... Weird? Most definitely... Will they ask the editor to scrap me... Will they arrive at the Newspaper with pitchforks asking for the removal of my crazy article.  Or gawd forbid, write into the Editor to criticize!  I have this ridiculous notion that I am setting myself up for failure and I am not sure my ego can take it.  So much easier to hide away behind my screen! Ugghh!

I suppose only time will tell.  In the meantime, I am basking in this one moment of glory.  My less than 10 seconds of mediocre fame.  A fleeting moment?  Perhaps...  But definitely a memorable one!

Until Next Time.

Smooches Pooches

PS  Thank you to all the new followers who signed up recently.  You have definitely made my week!

THURSDAY TOOTS: And the War of the Wedgies

I often think of myself as a ninja, a klutzy one that often falls and breaks bones and bonks her head a few times and is most certainly lacking stealth like precision, but a ninja when it comes to the art of wedgies.

Oh yes, my better half and I have engaged in sneak attack wedge-a-fying for seven long years.  Being that he’s a tall man, and I am a short chickalet, wedgies became my maneuver of choice and began out of my frustration of never being able to get the upper hand on a momentary play fight.  You see, my better half needs to only stick out his long annoying arm and secure his bony hand to my forehead, and well let’s just say that reaching him with my short appendages is next too impossible. And as I flail my arms here and there, it causes me much humiliation while he mockingly laughs at my inability to get at him.

Not one for backing down after being bested, I developed my ninja wedgie strategy early on in our relationship.  Ah yes, in the beginning  when he least expected it, I would get behind him, grab the back of his underwear and hike it up as hard as my short little arms could go and watch him stand up on his tip toes screaming like the little girl I knew he was.  Oh the pure joy of one upping him was beyond pleasurable, in fact I would say I was euphoric with my new found ability.

Unfortunately many years later, and perhaps one too many sneak attacks, and he’s onto me. With the knowledge he has gained over the years of reading my face and movements, he has developed his own keen sixth sense of when a secret wedgie attack is about to happen.  In one quick deft movement, we often find ourselves in an embrace, with my hands around his waist pulling his underwear up, and his hands around my waist pulling my underwear up with both of us yelling:

“Say uncle.”

“No you say uncle.”

“You say uncle first!”

“NEVER!!!”

“Let go for gawd sakes!”

“No you let go!”. 

This impasse can go on for a very long period of time while we both teeter on the tips of our toes and our lovely dulcet tones become banshee-like shrills.  Neither one of us willing to let go due to our genetically imprinted stubborn streaks, we often stay in that position until we ultimately hear “rrrrrrrrrrrriiiipppp”.

Oh yes it is true my friends, between the two of us, we have bought so many pairs of replacement underwear that we should own full shares in Fruit of the Looms and Hanes.

I suppose I won’t stop these sneak attacks until I have reach my ultimate goal of an atomic wedgie status.  You know, when you pull the underwear up so high that you can stick it over the victim’s head.  The fact that he is a foot taller than me is not deterring me at all from my goal!  One day that man is going to be 80 years old and not so spry in his movements, and when that day comes, I will have my atomic wedgie revenge.  It won’t be that difficult, I’ll just trip him with my cane, grab the back of his undies and yank them to the moon!  Let’s just hope the Depends are as stretchy as his Fruit of the Looms.

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches

TEN ODD THINGS ABOUT ME.

Let me just start by saying that I am overwhelmed and touched by the beautiful comments left yesterday, and while my head is still enveloped in this vice grip, it is nothing compared to what others suffer daily. But yesterday after reading all the comments, I felt much like the Grinch where my heart grew ten times and I cannot thank you enough.  So to lighten the mood a little. I thought I would blog about 10 odd things about myself, and then come back and see if you are still a follower.... ha ha ha

Okay, here we go:

1.  I have never had a cavity in my entire life. Nope no cavities no braces. And ironically neither has my brother. We have saved our parents mucho moula! And yes, we are the freaky stepford children.

2. I eat pickles with mayonnaise spread on them. Yes gross to some, a delicacy of the unusual to me!

3. I knew at the age of 5 years old I was never going to have children. A friend of mine told my wee little self all the gory details about giving birth and I had nightmares for years. I'm still scarred by it.  Of course, she went on to have a bunch of children!  The wench!

4. Once when I was young, I told my mother she was very bad and when she turned away from me, I swatted her with a wooden spoon so hard that it broke across her hiney. There's still a well deserved hand print on my ass to this day!

5. When I was 7 years old, we went to Disneyland. The week before we arrived, Donny Osmond had been at our hotel and had secured the entire floor that we ended up staying on. My father gave me a pair of purple socks while we were there (as Donny was well known for wearing purple socks) and said the housekeeping staff found them. Every night for years, I use to put them on my feet and sleep with them.  And of course, it goes without saying that I wouldn't wash them, as I didn't want to wash "Donny" off the socks. What's worse, is that I held onto those bloody socks for 20 years before I found out they were my dad's stinky leftovers! My mother still breaks out in a giggle over this some 30 something years later.  In fact, when I read this to her, she laughed her face off.  Oh the joys of parents!

6. I have small lips but I am still able to balance a spoon above my lip and below my lip at the same time (yes you heard it here first)!  Of course, I do look like a complete ape when I do it. 

7. I cannot drink beer. The first time I ever did the teenage drunk thing was due to drinking a case of warm beer, and unfortunately, I was hung over for three days. Twenty-five years later, and the smell of beer can still make hurl.

8. When I was in my mid 20's I went to Scotland and while there I experienced a flurry of "flash backs" to a previous life in a prior century. It did not matter if I was walking or sitting, all of a sudden a flash of another life would appear briefly before my eyes. Not too mention that every thing was crazily familiar to me. And I couldn't stop feeling this deep unending sadness and heartache. As soon as I left Scotland so did all the flashes and feelings.

9. I often know when people close to me have died long before I have been told. I have even woken up at the exact time of death of one of my grandfathers.  Ironically, I never feel sad, I almost feel like they came and said goodbye to me.

10. I have a crazy collection of Lucille Ball memorabilia.  When I was 12 years old, I was sure I was related to her.  Of course, I am sure she was glad not to be related to me!  On a side note, I was a very unusual child, I use to write to celebrities and send them little books with my 8 year old pictures and drawings in it and tell them about my country bumpkin kind of life.  I still have a postcard from Cher and a photo from Barbra Streisand... I suppose after 10 letters or so, they just gave in and wrote me to shut me up!  By the way after 10 letters of devotion to Donny Osmond, all I got back for my effort, was a catalogue to their Mormon products.  Sheesh!

There you have it in all my craziness.

Still want to hang around?
Perhaps, better yet, you will share a crazy moment of yours!

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches

SEARCHING FOR JOY

Several times a year, I get this complete sense of sadness, loss and ever so slightly a touch of despair. Some individuals call it s.a.d.s. disease, and yet others call it depression. I call it a loss of my joy, better known as Tracy’s Chronic Pain Syndrome. Moments where I am in so much pain, that trying to locate my joy is next to impossible. And I spend the day questioning the reason why I am placed on this earth. Wondering how I can make a difference in someone’s life for the better when I have such raw painful days that stop me in my tracks. I wonder how am I suppose to leave a positive imprint on this earth when I feel desperately sad by limitations.

In essence, I question what my purpose is.

Being a spiritual person with strong beliefs in caring for the planet, I often wonder why the fates would let me live in a constant state of pain which limits my life and all that I wish to do. And why simple things like standing and watching my youngest niece’s soccer game on Saturday would leave me in chronic agony come Sunday.

I often wonder if I am not a good enough person and whether I am being punished for something I am unaware of.

I have actual moments of wanting to shut down my facebook page, close up shop on my blog and runaway. Lucky for me that I am so sore that running away is next to impossible, and what you would see is this stiff girl doing a whacked out hop jog down the road all the while yelling: “oooh, owww, ouch, good grief, oh my gawd”. So now for me, running away constitutes walking down the hallway and soaking in a bathtub for two hours until:

a. the bath water gets so cold that I cannot feel my toes or my boobs; or

b. I get so shriveled up that there is not much difference between the look of a raison or my butt cheeks, except that my butt cheeks are significantly larger.

So yes today is a moment of sadness for me. A moment where I would like to sit down and have a really good cry. A moment where I feel useless. A moment where I feel like a burden on others. A moment, just a moment.

The pain does that too me unfortunately. It drains me of my joy.

And today, as corny as it sounds, I just need to throw out the following:  "Oh joy, where are you today?  I miss you so much, that my heart hurts. How I could do with your warm hug and embrace. Come back soon as I am getting tired of continually fighting these painful days. And I am not sure how much more fight I have left."

I am so sorry that you have become an unlikely guest at my pity party for one.

At least, tomorrow is another day.  And perhaps a better one at that. 

And as pathetic as this sounds, I am going to buy some joy today, namely, the Cole Haan purse I saw on sale.. And yes, I know what you are thinking, because I am thinking it too. 

Thank you for listening.

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches

OUT AND ABOUT

Often, I giggle about my little redneck town.  I jokingly tell people that it's a place where cousins marry cousins and everyone has a third nipple or one eyeball in the middle of their forehead... But in all seriousness, there are days where parts of it take my breath away.  Here's a little tour of our lovely city square:

From moments at the sweet little boutique carrying imported cosmetics

To stopping by on a Saturday for the local farmers market

Or perhaps a stroll thru the vintage store for great finds

And if your feet are tired, maybe a moment of 

pampering at the spa

What times does that say?

I still have some more time to shop! Yahoo!

But if my time is running out,

perhaps I could hang out the window

and watch the comings and goings of 

downtown life

But if not, I will head into

one of my favourite clothing stores

Followed by a leisurely stroll

thru the french inspired boutique

And since I was downtown too long,

I will make sure I swing by and pay

my parking ticket at City Hall!

All in all, not too bad of a day today!

How was yours?

I hope your weekend brings you

wonderful surprises and great finds!

This weekend I am linking up with

Seasonal Sundays and thank The Tablescaper

for hosting same.

Until Next Time.

Smooches Pooches