The one where I blog about everything and anything, much to my friend Jay's chagrin

So. As promised. Here I am... about to let you all in on my life. A day in the life of me. Everything I do and think about and say. Exciting stuff, huh?

Don't stop reading yet. You never know - you might just find me fascinating. (Please?)

Anyway. The week so far has actually been kinda interesting for me - and not only because I was compared to a piece of bacon. (I'll get to that later).

Bit of a back story: last week I didn't work out at all, and as a result, I felt cranky, tired and I didn't sleep well. So, this week, I vowed to head to the gym as much as possible. Now you're up to date.

Okay. So. I headed off to the gym Monday morning to attend a class called "BodyPump". I don't know if you've ever tried this... but basically, it's working out in a group, doing a LOT of reps of weights with a barbell. Not too bad sounding, eh? Yeah... well my muscles? Were shaking like a little kid after seeing a scary movie. (Hoo, boy were they shaking!) And only half way through the class, too.

As I walked out of the gym, kind of zombie-like due to immediate stiffness, I knew that it was going to be a long week for me and my poor, underused muscles.

On to Tuesday. Monday's adventures didn't discourage me, so after the work day, I decided to test out a spinning class. Was feeling good. Speeding in spot, pedalling as if my life depended on it. Thinking "Look at me! Am spin goddess!" And, I'm pretty sure the instructor thought I was pretty spin goddess-esque too, cause I caught him looking my way once or twice... if ya know what I mean??? (Hint, hint... nudge, nudge...)

Of course, then I looked in the mirror and saw a giant band of boob sweat stained onto my t-shirt and I was pretty sure he wasn't looking my way in admiration.

Wednesday. I've got my running clinic on Wednesday nights, so off I went, all bundled up, to run in the cold/rain/wet snow. We were taught the "proper" way to warm up before a run. (Read: walk around, jump, and run in place like morons). So, as I was doing my dynamic warm-up, I felt like a royal asshole.

At least I got to spend some time with Mumsie. Which brings me to the bacon story.

This past weekend, I brilliantly managed to spill boiling water on my leg, leaving behind a huge-ass, painful thigh-burn. (No wonder my friends think I need sippy cups!!) And 4 days later, it was STILL incredibly red and big and oddly-shaped. I was actually strangely proud of my war wound.

And since my Mom stopped by my place after our run, (as did my brother), I thought I would ask them if they wanted to see it. Sort of like a car accident that you just can't turn your eyes away from. (Of course they said yes. Curiosity got the best of them).

Upon first glance, my Mom's face contorted into an image of revulsion as she exclaimed "Oh! Oh! Gross!!" And my brother's reaction?

"It looks like bacon."

That has been my week so far. Aren't you glad you stayed until the end?

Blog like you mean it

I've been reading a lot of blogs lately (see yesterday's post to explain why). And whilst reading said blogs, I've noticed quite a trend. Professional bloggers? Yeah, they're seriously long winded.

Now, being an avid reader and a writer and all, I really enjoy reading these novellas-that-pass-for-blogs these days. Which got me to thinking: perhaps I should start blogging more "professionally". Perhaps I should join the ranks of these "serious" bloggers and follow their lead. Perhaps one day I'll be discovered by a fellow blog reader who happens to think I'm brilliant and wants to publish me!

I digress.

Anyway, here are a few key things I've noted about "real" blogs:

1. They're quite long.
2. No detail is spared.
3. The blogger's entire life story is revealed.
4. They're funny, well-written and engaging.

I'm pretty sure I can follow through on numbers 1 through 3. Number 4 might be a bit tougher to deliver (personally, I think I'm hilarious, but I've been known to get caught up in that horribly awkward story-telling situation, where you preface your story with "this is REALLY funny", then start telling it only to realize that it's not going to get the laughs (or even the smiles) you were hoping for, but you're too far into the story to stop telling it, so you just continue on, praying that someone will giggle or something, and when you finally get to the end, you can tell that everyone's still waiting for the punch line and you're kind of embarrassed so you just finish it off with "you sorta had to be there".)

Yeah. Number 4 might be tough.

Anyway, so for my next blog installment, I'm going to reveal more details of my life - right down to the minute details of what I did the day before, the conversations I had, even what I ate for dinner.

Hold on to your hats everyone, this is going to be one exciting-ass ride.

Break me off a piece of that kitkat bar

I'm unmotivated.

But just at work.

I'm pretty sure that only one of my coworkers reads this blog, so it's okay for me to spill the beans here. But yeah. I'm kinda feeling burnt out.

And I feel so guilty saying that because I'm not over-worked. I'm treated really well. There are other people working longer hours. The economy is shite right now, so I should just feel lucky to even HAVE a job and steady income. And yet, I can't shake the feeling.

I come into the office every day and find it hard to think fresh. To come up with something innovative. To focus. Hell, I have trouble even getting my timesheets done.

I so hope that only one of my coworkers reads this.

Anyway, I think it might be due to the time of year. When the holidays are about to roll around, and all I can think about is that much-needed break to rejuvinate. Long evenings. Sleeping in. Relaxing. Slippers. And tea. Books. Home-cooked meals and baking. Ah... bliss.

In the meantime, if anybody at work wonders, I'm working really hard. Really.

3:30am

Is the time I think I finally fell asleep after lying awake for TWO AND A HALF HOURS last night.

Welcome back, insomnia. Make yourself at home.

This not-being-able-to-sleep thing is totally screwing with me. I have never, ever had a problem sleeping. Ever. I love my sleep. And, as a morning person, I can drift off at night as soon as my head hits the pillow. So, to face this problem is all-new and all-baffling for me.

And now, despite the morning latte and afternoon can of pop, I'm still groggy and feeling kind of blah. How fun I'll be tonight at our friends' cottage!

Anyway, enough with the pity party. I'm off to get me some heavy doses of chocolate (chocolate has loads of caffeine, right??)

Seriously. I needs me some beauty sleep!

Guess what 4:00 in the morning is like? Dark and cold. You know how I know? For some reason, I've developed early-morning insomnia.

When my eyes popped open this morning, I assumed they would close back up and I'd fall into a deep slumber. (Seriously. It was only 4am. I still had 2 and a half hours to sleep!) But alas, my brain started working. And thinking. And thinking. And before I knew it, it was 6am and I was still awake.

Sigh.

At least I had time to mentally plan my outfit for the day, come up with witty retorts to the insults hurled at me yesterday, and think about what I would be doing in 5 years from now. You know... useful stuff.

Anyway, so on my way in today, I grabbed the high-octane latte (as opposed to my weak, homemade substitute), in an attempt to wake me up and get me going. Feeling good right now. We'll see how long this lasts.

And if any of you dear readers want to offer me some advice or let me in on what's going on with me and my screwed up sleep schedule... I'll be forever in your debt.

Food. Again. (Seems I'm always talking about food).

Last week at my Wednesday night running clinic, a nutritionist came to talk to us. She gave some really good advice, including: everyone should keep a food journal.

Now, I've long despised the idea of keeping a food journal because I thought it would lead to an obsessive, calorie-counting lifestyle. A lifestyle I just can't deal with because, for me, it eventually leads to low self-esteem, bad body image and slight depression. Just ain't worth it. "Besides," I thought, "I already know how to eat well. And, I eat my meals at 2-3 hour intervals throughout the day."

So, I'm not quite sure why I actually decided to keep a food journal this time around. But I did. And the result? Is pretty interesting.

I pride myself on eating well. But, I'm learning that I'm not getting enough veggies in my diet (at all!), I'm consuming more sugar than I thought, and that dreaded alcohol? Yeah, it's being consumed at least 3-4 days a week by me. Not so great.

Turns out that this journal is good for me. I'm not obsessive... just keeping track and watching patterns. And, it's funny, but the whole "writing it down" thing makes me more accountable. There's a certain amount of shame I feel as I scribble down "chicken wings, fries and gravy and 2 bottles of beer" for dinner on Friday night.

And since I'm not down with self-inflicted shame spirals - here's to a healthier me.

F-I-B-R-E... find out what it means to me

I tend to joke quite a bit about getting old and all of the signs of aging I'm facing. And I can kind of tell that people older than me sort of poo-poo what I'm saying, because I'm still a "young'un". But the thing is - this aging thing baffles and scares me. Completely.

Here's why.

Up until the past year or so, I've felt invincible. I could party late during the week, eat a variety of fatty foods whenever I want, do any form of exercise or movement to my body - all without any side effects whatsoever. There was very little that I could do that would make me feel run down or tired or wrinkly or old.

This is no longer the case.

Now, when I party late on a work night, I feel like hell the next day and it actually takes me 2-4 days to fully recover from the lack of sleep. When I eat fatty foods, I develop intense indigestion. (And gall bladder issues at the ripe old age of 29). And when I spend the morning running 8kms and then the next 4 hours cleaning my house, I hobble around my house all evening and wake up the next day with lower back pain. Yay me.

On top of all of this, I've noticed SEVERAL grey hairs on each side of my temples, fine lines under my eyes and little veins surfacing on my legs. Oh, and even scarier: I now base my cereal-purchasing decision on fibre content.

The horror. The horror.

I'm too young for all of this, aren't I? I'm not even 30 yet!! This is why I'm scared. If all of this is already happening to me now - what the heck will I look like when I'm 50???

Anyway, for now, I'm a marketer's dream. Give me all the "youth-in-a-bottle" solutions you can... 'cause I sure as heck ain't ready to grow old gracefully yet.

Boooooooooze

Good morning, world!

That salutation was probably deceiving. I'm actually not all alert and cheery and feeling fabulous. But hey - sometimes persuasion works. Just ask Austen. (Wow. Nerdy book reference much?)

Anyway, last night I went out for a few pints after work with some old colleagues. We all had to go our separate ways at a respectable hour, but of course, I'm like Frank the Tank and once the beer hits my lips, I can't say no to it. So, I went home and met up with my brother and some friends for a few more beers. And before I knew it, I was feeling pretty good.

Fast forward to this morning... my eyes pop open at 4am and I can NOT fall back asleep, no matter how hard I try. This happens to me every time I have a few drinks the night before. I can't sleep the next morning and then spend the rest of my day tired and cursing the demon rum.

When will I learn?

Later on tonight I'm sure I'll relive more moments that happen to me every single day-after-drinking. You know: on the Go train home, my head will start doing the "nod and bob" as I try to keep my heavy, heavy eyelids open. Or, at home, I'll wake up completely startled, unsure of where I am, what time it is, or even who I am, only to find that I'm on the couch in the very same spot I've been in all evening.

Ah, yes. Drinking is so smart.

Work and tea and books and more tea

I had the opportunity to work from home yesterday. Usually, I do the old finger quotation mark gesture to emphasize the "working from home" part of that sentence. Meaning, I say that I'll work from home, but then I actually end up doing other stuff instead.

Yesterday, I actually had to work. Damn work. Getting in the way of my "from home" time.

Anyway, it wasn't too bad. Because I actually got a taste of what it would be like to freelance and work from home for a living. And I've got to say... me like.

I set myself up at our dining room table, with a mug of tea and my slippers warming up my tootsies. I had my trusty mac laptop in front of me, all connected and junk (thanks to our wireless internet). And I worked away. And then, when I needed it, I took a break and chatted with hubster (who works shifts and was off yesterday).

After I had completed everything I needed to do, I decided to give myself a bit of a late-in-the-day lunch break and headed off to Chapters with hubby. We drank our mochas and teas (in the festive Starbucks cups, I must add) while snuggling in to comfy chairs and chatting about everything from becoming an uncle and aunt soon to what we want for Christmas. Then, we browsed the books. Slowly and leisurely.

Can you ask for more in a day? I don't think you could.

Live, feel dawn, see sunset glow

I feel very strongly about Remembrance Day. If you consider yourself a Canadian, you should, too.

Every year on November 11th, I'm reminded of one summer day in Ottawa. I was visiting a friend from university at her home. And, after just completing a course in Canadian Military History, I asked if we could stop by the Canadian War Museum.

We wandered through... reading... quietly learning. And as I stopped to look at a photograph of a an injured soldier being taken care of by a nurse in a hospital, I felt someone approach beside me. Before I had time to acknowledge the person beside me, I heard an old man's voice say "Just checking to make sure I'm still here".

He was pointing at the photograph. That injured soldier was standing right next to me. Smiling warmly. And I was absolutely speechless for a moment.

This man fought for our country. He gave up everything to defend a country that I can only imagine he loves and is proud to be a part of. There's something so incredible about that act that just makes me well up with tears every time I think of that moment.

I really don't agree with war. But then again, I'm sure many of those men who fought don't either. And yet, they did. For us.

Remember that. Today.


In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae

Let's talk

Another Monday morning is here. And I'm tired. And not quite sure what to blog about today.

Should my topic for today be about my adventures in DD'ing (designated driving) on Saturday night for my bro's birthday? (A few wrong turns and a few pieces of pineapple in the back seat later, we ended up at home safely).

Or maybe I should let you all in on how great my Sunday morning run was (7km) and how nice it was to sit and chat with my Mom over Timmy's afterwards.

I could talk about the quality time I got with my hubster and how grateful I am for that. (Love him, love him, love him.)

Or, I could discuss the really nice chat I had with the Dad of one of the hockey boys that hubster plays with. I love those kind of talks (the ones where you just leave all smiley and happy to have met someone new and learned something about them).

Hmm... let me think about this one and get back to you.

Me

Quick, mini-update on me:

• I went to hot yoga last night and it was INTENSE. I was quite light headed for some of it - and feeling totally beat afterwards. However, I was told by the instructor that I've got a sweet cobra pose. Nice!
• I won an award this week for some work I did with my partner. I would appreciate it if everyone would refer to me as "award-winning copywriter, Hez" from now on.
• I'm going for a run tonight and a run on Sunday morning, in an attempt to counter-act the cupcakes, cake and other fatty foods I've been consuming for my hubby and brother's birthdays.

That's about it. I know... very exciting life I lead. Interesting blogs will hopefully be reappearing next week... stay tuned.

One for the books

History has been made. Before our very eyes. The good guy won. The Americans got it right. Now it's time to wait and see what the future holds.

Good luck, Obama.

Reality vote

I know this U.S. election is HUGE-ARSE important. And, if Obama gets elected, history will have been made before our very eyes. Seriously important.

But... (you knew there was a "but")

...I find the election thing a teensy bit upsetting for a few reasons:

1. Canadians everywhere are reading, watching, talking, blogging and facebook-status-ing about the U.S. election. Yet... when it came to our own election, there was a record-low interest. Of course, the U.S. election has a wide-spread effect on the world and, therefore, on us as well. But our OWN election has a big outcome on our lives. And people really didn't seem to care.

2. The whole election process is on the verge of going "hollywood". Case in point: "American Idol judge Simon Cowell has been so inspired by the theatrics of the U.S. election campaign, he plans to change the way British politics is covered... Cowell is determined to change the way political messages are delivered in the U.K. insisting he could create a TV show to help revitalize Britain's political culture".

Cowell was quoted as saying: "Politics is showbusiness these days. More and more so."

This is kind of sad, no?