Day 12: Five Guys I Find Attractive

I think it’s silly to limit this to guys. I find both men and women attractive in that I feel a pull towards someone who makes me laugh or has a great smile or talks about interesting things. I don’t want you to get all weird on me – by attractive, I mean someone I would choose to spend my time with or on.

There are many people in my life that I find attractive. In fact, that’s why they’re in my life. So I’m not going to list the people (you know who you are) I am naturally attracted to. Instead, I’m going to list five people who I THINK are attractive because of what I see on the internet or tv or on social media or have read about them.

1. Jonathan Goldstein. I think Jonathan is a Canadian treasure. His stories are full of pathos and he has an exquisitely tuned sense of satire. I think he is brilliant. His new podcast series, Heavyweight, is enough to break your heart. In a good way. I would love to meet Jonathan in person.

2. Stephen Sackur. Enough said. I find smart and clever and articulate extremely attractive.

3. K. D. Lang. A voice to break your heart. A strong, clever woman. And Canadian to boot.

4. Emelia Earnhardt has always been a hero of mine. A woman breaking trail in a man’s world and also an artist. Look up her poetry one day.

5. Bill Nye the Science Guy. I’ve had a bit of a crush on Bill Nye since I used to watch him on public tv when my oldest child was 3 or 4. But it’s not Bill’s scientific posits that I find attractive, it’s his passion for what he believes and what he says. I admire his commitment to what he does.

But, really, how can I limit this to five?

Day 7: Five Pet Peeves

1. When people either forget my name or call me “Sharon”. Sharon is a lovely name but it’s not mine.

2. When diet/exercise/gym/sport/etc ads only show women in their pictures. Especially ads that show before and after pictures of women.

3. When I lend my mitts and they’re not returned. (Same with Sharpies).

4. The misspelling and misuse of “your” and “you’re”. Also, “there”, “their” and “they’re”. But when people don’t know the difference between “your” and “you’re”, it drives me crazy! One of them is a contraction, people! And the incorrect use of ellipses.

5. Unscented laundry soap and dryer sheets.

Day 5: Things You Want to Say to Your Ex

“Hey, Ex – thanks a million!

Remember when you called me fat? Well, I’ve learned to get along with my body. And Big Daddy loves my body! Thanks for that! Thanks for teaching me that losing weight isn’t what makes my body beautiful.

And, oh ya, thanks for helping me understand that I can absolutely stand on my own two feet. Remember how you used to say I couldn’t do anything without you? Like keep a job or pay bills or raise a kid on my own? Well, I did it! I did it all! I’m pretty awesome that way! I’m pretty confident about taking care of myself and my family thanks to you.

And don’t forget, Ex, about those times you threatened to leave if I did or said something you didn’t like. Because I’ve realized that people who really love me (and most people do love me) stick it out through thick and thin. So I’ve learned my value and worth. It was a hard-learned lesson, no doubt, but without your input the lesson wouldn’t have stuck. So thanks for that! I will never believe I’m worthless again!

Thanks too for one of the most important people in my life. My oldest son. Thanks for your trust in my ability to raise him. I assume you trust me because you have not shown up for anything important (well, not anything, actually) in his life. Thanks for not interfering!

So, ya, Ex. Thanks for it all. I wouldn’t have been able to recognize and accept the beauty that is my life now if it wasn’t for you.”

Day 4: Bullet My Whole Day

4:10 Wake up while Big Daddy gets ready and leaves for work. Go back to sleep.
6:10 Get up for real.
6:15 Turn on espresso machine.
6:40 Realize I didn’t complete Day #3 in blog challenge. Decide to skip it. Day #4 Challenge – Bullet Your Day. Begin bulleting my day.
7:15 Play Candy Crush while I figure out what to wear today.
8:51 Play The Tragically Hip in the school library.
9:33 Decide to host NaNoWriMo for Young Writers in my library during November.
11:46 Go to lunch at Selkirk College cafeteria with two of my favourite people. Cindee and Linda.
3:05 Take packages to Greyhound Courier. Discuss possibility of reduced service.
4:15 Pick out card and a bottle of wine for mother-in-law’s birthday.
6:30 Reservations at MIL’s favourite Asian restaurant, Chopsticks.
6:58 Watch Father-in-law cut the ginger that came with his sushi with a fork and knife.
8:45 Pajamas. Quilt. Netflix. Second season of Fargo.

Day 2: Something I Feel Strongly About

That’s my problem. I feel strongly about everything. There isn’t much in life that I feel “meh” about. The tide of emotion that rolls over me often feels the same whether it’s a wonderful cup of coffee or witnessing a great injustice. Managing strong emotions has been an ordeal for me. Logically, I know that I need not expend as much emotional energy on someone forgetting my name as I do on one of my children being hurt or bullied. But there it is. My emotional thermostat is always set on high. On “Feel Strongly About This”. I met a man once who said his son was an empath. I’m not really sure what that is but I wonder if he feels strongly the way I do. Because that’s another thing I feel strongly about – other people’s feelings. Wondering about their feelings often leads me to submerging my own. Feeling other people’s emotions strongly often gets me into that Hamlet-like fugue of indecision. I can’t decide on action because one way hurts me. One way hurts someone else.

So, what do I feel strongly about? Everything and nothing. Equally and always.

 

30 Day Blog Challenge

Day 1: 5 Ways to Win My Heart

1. Keep your promises.
2. Listen to me. Even if I’m talking nonsense.
3. Encourage me to do great things.
4. Fight for the downtrodden, the underdog.
5. Love children.

Oxy-moron

My 12 year old daughter asked me the other day to give her an example of an oxy-moron. She didn’t ask me to explain what it was, she knows that, she asked me to give an example. And, boy, is it ever harder to give an original example of an oxy-moron than it is to explain it.

All I could think of was the ubiquitous “bad angel” and “fine mess”. She watched me suffer, in silence, for a bit then told me her favourite. Deafening silence.

And I thought, why didn’t I think of that?

I live in deafening silence. Silence so loud my ears ring with the clamour of it. Words unsaid. Thoughts dying an infant death on my tongue. Living with silence becoming preferable to living with regrets over words let loose to soon. Wreaking havoc with their youthful abandon, words flying off the overhead lights and landing shattered in people’s laps with all the attending awkward feelings as though I’d just spied two lovers having sex in the park. Silence. Preferable to awkward feelings.

But right now, today, awkward feelings be damned, I want to say something. I want to break the self-inflicted silence to tell the world that I love my children. With all my heart. Until my eyes be squeezed out.

I love you.

Las Meninas

Similar to the famous painting, my family appears charming and beautiful at first glance. And it is. I treasured my time with them this weekend. To be back among family, knowing the old jokes, the nicknames, the sideways glances, the nuances and gestures was water to my thirsty soul. Watching someone walk the same way I do. Seeing someone lift a cup of coffee to their mouth the same way my brother does, makes my heart squeeze. 

What doesn’t appear at first glance is the missing pieces to this jigsaw of people. You have to look closer, peer harder, look around corners to realize that half of my family isn’t there. Like ghostly mirror images, the dead in my family reach out to tap me on the shoulder. I feel their hand brush lightly on my arm when I see a cousin, an uncle tweak up their mouth. Roll their shoulder. Walk in that particular stooping walk, bent at the waist. When I hear the slow, low words. The laughter. 

They’re there. I miss them. I love them. I wouldn’t be here without them. 

Memory

Some nights, lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come rescue me, I flip through my memories like a great big scrapbook. My scrapbook is divided into sections – Happy (subsections: Family, Children, Funny Stuff, Accomplishments, Friends), Sad (subsections: Death, Anxiety, Lost Opportunities), Angry (subsections: Ex-husband, Injustice) and Calm. Depending on how far Prince Valium has to ride, I flip through the sections, deciding where to delve in and where to just turn the page. If sleep is far, far away, I have to go straight to Happy or Calm. If I can barely form a coherent thought, I can spend a few minutes looking at the memory snapshots of friends who have passed away or of things done or said to me that are extremely unjust.

Calm is one of my favourite memories. It’s page in my scrapbook is dogeared and thumb worn. I concentrate on a memory of a sunny day at the beach when I was six or seven. We lived in Fort St. John and we were at Charlie Lake. The sky was always blue in Fort St. John. Winter or summer, the sun smiled out of a blue sky that surrounded you on all sides. It was never quite hot enough to get a sunburn or to cajole parents into the frigid waters but I remember it being lovely and warm.

Someone had brought a rubber dinghy. I had never seen one of these contraptions before. The man showed us how to sit on the edge of the dinghy, bum sinking into the rubbery flesh, bang our feet together to get rid of sand and then swing our legs over the side and into the boat.

I’ll never forget that shocking, sensual, surreal feeling as I rested my feet on the bottom of the boat and felt the water not more than 5 mm. beneath me. I could feel the water move and play under my skin and yet I wasn’t in it. It was unheard of! I wasn’t wet and yet I was right next to the water, skin against skin.

When I struggle to sleep, I go to that memory and imagine myself lying full length in that dinghy. I hear the water lapping, splashing, laughing. I close my eyes and feel the sun, not too hot, on my face. And most of all, I feel the water beneath me, holding, supporting, loving. Free to float around all night in my brain, I let the winds take me. Like the Lady of Shalott, I want to float to Camelot to find my true love.