Getting old

My brother is turning 30. DA, DA, DAAAAAAAAAAAAAA........ (that's supposed to be ominous music).

The ironic thing is, I don't think there's anything ominous about turning 30. Of course, I'm not there yet. But I'm close. And I think about myself now compared to myself when I was 5, 6, even 10 years younger, and I think I just keep getting happier and happier with age.

I love being more mature and, therefore, smarter as I get older. I like the things that come with getting older, like more money, your own things (my house - I love it!), better relationships with your family and friends (since you learn who's really important to you as you get older, and hold onto those people as much as you can).

Basically, at the risk of sounding like an overly-positive, annoyingly-happy goof... I love where I am in life. And I'm excited about what the future brings as each year passes.

And as for my brother turning 30... I'm extremely excited for the big bash being thrown in his honour.

I do love a good party.

To J

So today I had this wicked awesome sandwich. It was tuna on rye. Man, you can't beat tuna on rye. Let me go into detail about it...

Or maybe not.

J and I had a good discussion last night about blogs. This is what I discovered from him...

J's list of topics your blog should NOT be about:
1. The sandwich you ate for lunch.
2. Anything equally as boring.

Bloggers - take note.

Ho hum

Reasons why I'm convinced the universe is against me:

-Have gained 6 lbs. in two months, so have vowed to be good today - the very same day that a fresh stock of full-sized Reese peanut butter cups has appeared in the office "treat" drawer

-Am having a bad hair day despite careful blow-drying and brushing this morning

-Have been taking psyllium fibre (aka: poo-maker) in an attempt to "cleanse" my internal system, only to find out it's most likely been causing more tum-tum problems

-Have been running 3 times a week for the past 3 weeks and only have a bigger appetite, not long, lithe, sexy legs pictured in my mind

What to say

I'm afraid I'm boring today. So boring, in fact, that I was actually contemplating writing a post about pre-authorized payments. (I'm currently writing some copy at work about the ever-exciting PAP plan. Yes - you envy me, I can sense it.)

Anyway, so this made me wonder about blog etiquette. I've heard you're supposed to update your blog every day. Or, at the very least, 3 times a week. My friend M is very diligent about writing her blog every day. She's even doing it while away on a wonderful European adventure right now.

But for someone like me, who is currently not in the exciting land of excessive consonants (Amsterdam), and who leads a somewhat mundane life, is it really necessary to write every day - even if there's nothing to say? If my posts get more and more boring, will I lose my readership (all 3 devoted readers)?

Wait... don't answer that. Please.

Anyway, until something exciting happens to me, or until I'm hit by a wave of witty creative genius that will have my readers slapping their knees, I'm going to hang back a bit. I'm still here, though. Just a bit more selective.

I do, I do, I do, I do

Sunday was my one year wedding anniversary. Wow. A whole year of martial bliss already. I've learned a lot about being married in the past year. For example, no matter how many times you ask a husband to put the toilet seat down, it's just not going to happen automatically within the first year of marriage. It just won't.

I've also learned that hockey is always, always more important than a wedding anniversary. (This I learned on Sunday, while I was watching my dearest play hockey in a cold arena, wondering how I got so lucky).

And I've also learned that husbands may pretend to listen when their wives are talking about stuff... but they have very selective hearing. Very selective.

However, the past year has also taught me that coming home after a long day to a soft hug and loving eyes is one of the best feelings in the universe. It has taught me that it's really nice to have long talks while laying in bed late on a Sunday morning. And it has taught me that it's a really wonderful feeling to have someone around who truly loves you, just the way you are. Who loves your faults, loves being silly with you, loves having serious conversations, loves going to movies or staying in and snuggling. Who makes you feel loved, every single day.

Oh - and probably the most important thing I've learned over the past year is that laundering your husband's undies and socks is worth it, as long as he cooks dinner.

To many more years of wedded bliss.

Run, baby, run

I've recently started training for a 10k race. I've been running for a long time (since university days) and I've run a few 5k races and a 10k race in the past. But this time, I felt like I needed to train properly. So I signed up for the Running Room 10k clinic. And I am so incredibly glad I did.

I run with the group 3 times a week. We do a short run on Wednesdays (and will be starting hill training next week on Wednesday nights), a medium run on Fridays and a long run on Sundays. So on Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays, I pretty much feel fantastic.

It's amazing how far your body will actually go. I used to think running was impossible. Now, I absolutely love it. It not only makes me feel great physically (from all the endorphins that get going), I also find that there's nothing more serene than a run on a cool night, where I can unwind, relax and just be alone with my thoughts.

I'm currently in week 2 of training. Going for about 5k tonight. And a 7k run on Sunday. I'll keep you posted on how it goes. For all the other runners out there - happy trails.

Those eyes are following me

Last night I did nothing but lounge on our recliner and watch trashy television. I was rather enjoying myself, until my cat decided to perch herself on my lap and stare at me. She was curled into a ball and looked as if she might sleep. Instead, she decided to stare at me. As if she was disappointed in me for watching such crap all night.

I swear to you, at one point she actually looked me up and down. Really. With her little cat eyes, she was saying "You disgust me. Do something worthwhile with your time."

However, I ignored her and got back to my viewing of "Beauty and the Geek", completely guilt-free. You see, when she stops licking her bum and is no longer entranced by a stray piece of thread on the floor, (and when she starts using the toilet instead of her litter box), then I'll let her nasty looks get to me. Until that happens, I'll indulge in the pleasure I get from reality television.

Hmm... First I was stuffing kleenex up my sleeve, now I'm getting a little unnerved by my cat. At least I don't have conversations with her. Well... not long ones, anyway.

On writing

I've been thinking lately. Deep thoughts. Like "Where am I going in life?" "What job will I be doing 10 years from now?" "Does work make me happy?" Heavy stuff like that.

Anyway, I've realized that my personal life is pretty much perfect. And my work life is great, too. For now. But where will I be in 5 years? 10 years? What's next?

I've come to the conclusion that it all comes down to one thing. Writing.

I love to write. Creative writing is what fuels my soul and makes me feel at peace. I've realized that I have to write. I have to be a writer if I want to survive in life. It's the only thing that I can picture myself doing for the rest of my days.

Thankfully, I'm currently employed as a writer. But in advertising, once you hit a certain level, unless you want to be a Creative Director (which I most certainly do not want to do), you're pretty much done.

Maybe there's some place where all "seasoned" copywriters go to that I don't know about yet. But I have to admit, it worries me a bit. Because if I can't continue to write (and make money so I can live) then I'm pretty much useless.

This is what my brain does when I have too much time to think. I'm worrying about my future when I could be doing what I love.

Excuse me, I'm off to do some more writing.

Work it, girl

I'm feeling fantastic today. My body has that weary feeling it gets when you work your muscles to the point of exhaustion. And I love it. I love knowing I've done something good for my body. Love knowing I've pushed myself. Love realizing how strong I am - how far I can go and what I can do.

My head is clear. I'm in an awesome mood. And I'm starting the week off with a feeling of accomplishment.

Bring it on, baby. I can face anything that's thrown at me today.

Bad Hez

I have been very bad with keeping up to date on my blogs this week. I blame it on feeling under the weather. Something is definitely going around and I'm on the verge of catching it. Bah!

And due to my sore throat, headache and general feeling of crappyness, I'm finding myself to be very un-witty. Therefore, I'm not going to attempt to be funny today. Rather, I will sign off now before I completely bore the pants off you.

~H
PS: I have recently become quite attached to tea, soup, warm blankets, fuzzy socks and keeping kleenex up my sleeve. I seem to be turning into my Nanny. If I start colouring my hair orange and swear it's natural, you'll know I've completely turned into her.*

*With all due respect to Grandma Lorraine

Rain over me

A rainy day calls for staying in bed, cocooning yourself in your blankets, and only coming out to grab something yummy like tea and peanut butter on toast.

Or spending the afternoon in barefeet, lounging on a couch and reading the day away.

Hmm... I think I feel a cough coming on. I better stay home from work one day. When there's a 60% chance of showers.

Cold turkey

This weekend will mark a monumental occasion in my life. I am going to... (wait a minute, an event this big calls for a drumroll.)

Dadadadadadadadadaddadadadadadadadaddadadadada

...be cooking my first ever turkey dinner for 20 people!!

Yes indeed. Thanksgiving dinner is at my place this year. And not only have I never cooked a turkey dinner before, I have also never cooked for 20 people! Actually - if you want to know the truth - I rarely cook at all.

I have visions of the dinner scene from "Christmas Vacation" popping into my head. (If you watch that movie every year around the holidays, like I do, you know what I'm talking about).

Thank goodness my Mom has graciously offered to help me out, every step of the way. I have a feeling she just doesn't want to end up with food poisoning.

So, please send best wishes my way, everyone. And, have a happy thanksgiving!

Today's thought

Alice Walker once said:

"Deliver me from writers who say the way they live doesn't matter. I'm not sure a bad person can write a good book. If art doesn't make us better, then what on earth is it for?"

Love it.

Suburbia woes

I love living in the suburbs. It's odd, I know, since I'm in my late 20s, my husband and I are DINKs (double income no kids) and I love to go out to eat, see movies go to parties, etc. etc. Yet, I don't have any desire to live in the city. I love my burbs.

My home is bigger for less money than you could get in the city. It's peaceful. There are lots of trees and parks and grass everywhere you look. You rarely run into bums on the street. It's simple to navigate.

Now, here comes the "but".

There's so much I love about the suburbs, BUT... commuting sucks.

I have a great job in Toronto. I wouldn't want to work in the burbs because the same kind of work and opportunities are just not there. And most often, taking the GO train into work is a civilized, quiet ride.

Until there's a mishap. Like today. 2 hour delays on the GO train service and numerous cancellations.

Ugh.

And this is even before winter is here - when there's almost daily delays due to snow and ice, which you rarely find out about until you're standing on the platform, freezing your arse off while waiting for up to an hour for the next train to arrive.

I could ask my hubby to drive me into work today (thankfully he works shifts and just happens to be home right now)... but due to the delays, everybody and her brother is trying to drive to work. All on the Gardiner.

Sigh.

So, another frustrating day is beginning with disgruntled commuters being late for work. And I'm one of them.

Fa la la la F@#$!

To all you holiday-lovers (do I have to be politically correct in my own blog, or can I say Christmas??) Anyway, to all my fellow peeps who absolutely LOVE Christmas time, I have some words of warning for you: beware of overdosing.

Here it is, October 2nd (over 2 months to go until Christmas), and I'm getting a little annoyed by all things holly jolly already.

I've been writing holiday-focused stuff at work for the past month and a half (which means I've been listening to carols and living and breathing every merry little cliché that comes with the season). I've been sending emails back and forth about holiday plans with family. I've already got holiday get-togethers set up. By the time Christmas actually rolls around, I'll be completely holiday-ed out.

So, I think it's important to take a moment and remember what the season is really about - and what I truly love about the holidays. (Yes, even though it's October).

For example: instead of thinking about the million and one holiday gatherings I'm expected to go to, I'll think about the Christmas baking my Mom and I do every year on Christmas Eve. (And about the new tradition with my mother-in-law, too). Man, the three of us make some DAMN fine cookies together.

Instead of thinking about how many presents I have to buy and the stress of worrying if people will like them or not, I'll think about being around people I really love. And delicious, delicious Christmas dinner. And playing board games and cards with my family while we wait for the turkey to cook. And going to the movies on Boxing Day every year with my husband.

I love these traditions. And the best part is, they have nothing to do with presents and everything to do with memories.

Okay, I'm ready now. Bring on Christmas!

A day in the life of Hez

Here's how my morning went today. And yes, this is a quite typical morning for me:

5:30am - Wake up confused and wonder why alarm is going off in middle of night. (Realize shortly that it's not middle of night, just looks like it, now that winter is approaching. Ugh.)

5:45am - Stumble around in dark. Hop on one foot while trying to get "special workout sock" on. Scare cat.

6:00am - Too lazy to get to gym, so go downstairs to do a few light toning exercises with 5-pound and 10-pound dumbells.

6:23am - Realize "light" toning exercises are actually really hard. Wipe sweat off brow.

6:33am - Wipe more sweat off brow. Gasp for breath.

7:30am - After shower, head into kitchen and start making nutritious and not-really-delicious oatmeal and eggwhites for breakfast.

7:33am - Bend down to pick strawberry off floor. (It's still good!) Stand up rapidly and scrape back against open utensil drawer. Jump around, yelling in pain. Scare cat.

7:35am - Apply giant bandage to back. Bend over to throw out wrapper and realize bandage is ripping at skin. Try to peel off bandage and realize it's also ripping tiny little fine hairs. Leave bandage on! Leave it on!!

8:00am - Head to work on Go train. Ahhh.. peace.

8:04am - Listen to man next to me slurping coffee from cup.

8:06am - Give slurping man quick, annoyed glance to see if he gets the point.

8:08am - Man didn't get point. Continue to listen to slurping.

9:00am - Sit at desk and drink latte in peace. Open emails and learn that none of completed work from last week is acceptable in eyes of client. Must rewrite everything.

9:05am - Shed a little tear, but try hardest not to feel defeated already.

10:00am - Am starving. Choke down protein shake in the name of losing weight.

10:15am - Find office manager's secret stash of chocolate bars. Eat quickly and get rid of wrapper evidence.

11:00am - Start rewriting copy from last week. Get distracted by random pictures posted on Facebook by people don't really know.

11:38 - Decide not to do any writing for work, but recount morning thus far. Find myself quite witty. Chuckle to myself.

11:39 - Try to stop chuckling at self when coworker walks into office and asks for new copy. Sigh.

Tell a story

Here's a sample of some of my "fiction" writing. When I'm famous, you can all say you knew me when and you read my work first. (Please remember that it's fiction. Even though the character speaks in first person... it's not me, people!!)

****
When I was 13, my first boyfriend wanted to stick his tongue down my throat. This wasn’t uncommon for 13 year-old boys and girls in my school. But I couldn’t help but be a bit repulsed by it at the time. I was only 13, but I already imagined my first real kiss as being a romantic encounter. I could picture myself being swept off my feet. I wanted a kiss to be a loving exchange. And trying to explain that to a 13 year-old boy was like trying to discuss a classic novel with your friend who only reads magazines.

'I suppose I have to let him kiss me', I thought. I sighed on the inside.

But I decided to give him the go-ahead. And it was pretty gross at first. I got used to it though, because that’s what you did when you were a 13 year-old girl. And despite the fact that he was transferring the slobber collecting in the corners of his mouth to my mouth, my first boyfriend was one of the cool kids.

****