Towels and sheets and linens... oh my!

I have very vivid memories of my childhood.

One such memory is of being at the mall with my Mom, and dealing with (what I considered) the most horrid and tragic of boring shopping excursions: perusing the linen store.

Oh, the pure and utter vileness of it all. I absolutely dreaded the linen store. I remember my Mom would pull me inside, claiming that she just "wanted to take a quick look" while I was forced to stand around and wait.

The minutes seemed to drag on for hours as I stood next to her, loudly sighing and rolling my eyes in exasperation. What on earth could she enjoy about looking at towels? They're fuzzy, they come in a variety of colours, yes. But they're towels. That's it.

And sheets? Oh. Mah. Goodness. Don't get me started on the sheets! In my youthful perspective, there was not a single thing that was interesting about sheets.

And yet, my Mom seemed to love it. She would browse around, deep in thought, touching, picking up, and scrutinizing everything.

One day, when I could take it no longer, I asked my Mom to make me a promise. "Please, please, puh-LEASE Mom... just shoot me if I ever tell you that I find linens interesting one day, okay??"

Mom chuckled good-naturedly and decided to end my misery by leaving the store.

It wasn't until a few years ago, when registering for our wedding with my husband, that I recalled those moments with my Mom so many years ago. Wedding registry list in hand, I came across the towel section at the Bay.

I stopped for a moment... tentatively let my hand graze the Liz Claiborne selection. And then it hit me.

I loved towels.

From the giant bath towels to the cute little face cloths... even the matching hand towels... oh my goodness - were towels always like this?? The colours and the softness and the variety.

It was like a new world to me. I had discovered a new towel-loving reality that I never knew existed within me.

Perhaps I was more like my Mom than I realized. Perhaps I was just maturing. Or perhaps I hadn't given towels their due respect when I was a kid.

Whatever it was - one thing was certain. One day I would be inflicting my own child with the Linen Store Torture that I faced as a kid. And if he or she thinks loudly sighing and rolling their eyes will pull me away from the beauty of it all, well - they're going to be sadly mistaken.

I'm just not as patient as my Mom proved to be.

Trying to lay off the "woe is me" thing

My Facebook status for today:

"Hez thinks the only way my morning could possibly get worse is if someone were to shove my face into a pile of mud and then dance a jig on my back while laughing and pointing at me."

Yes, that just about sums up my lovely morning thus far.

As I type this, I'm sitting here with soaking wet jeans, drenched socks and shoes, a headache, cold fingers and I'm exhausted. (Walked to the train station today in a torrential downpour. Now I'm sitting in my office freezing.)

However - that's all the complaining I'm going to do. Because yesterday, I had a chance to chat with a coworker who I don't know all that well. And I learned a few interesting things that really made me think.

Among the things I learned about her was the fact that she's a single Mom, her own Mother recently passed away... and, each day, she has a 2 hour commute to and from work. So, when she leaves work around 5:30, she doesn't get home and get her son from the babysitter's until 7:30. Then she's got to make dinner and feed him, do homework with him, then get him to bed - THEN do a little of her own work at home sometimes. Then start all over again the next day.

So, in light of that, my soggy jeans aren't really that big of a deal. I lead a good life... sometimes I just need a reality check.

How I spend my weekends

Had some people over for a little shin-dig this weekend (even though I was still getting over being sick. You just can't stop the die-hard partier in me!)

Sadly, nobody brought cake. Which is probably a good thing. Cause this kind of stuff is known to happen...

First, the cake fight is all fun and games. Ah, the look of merriment

on my face... the pure joy is almost contagious.

Admiring my cake stains. I still appear to be amused at this point.

Suddenly, I realize that I really hate to see good cake go to waste.

Saddened by the wasting of cake. But still willing to pose for

the ever-important "Truce Photo".

These are my weekends, folks.

Head cold haiku

Sore throat and sore head

Not very happy at all

Going to bed now.

Is this wrong?

Okay. So I'm about to admit something here that is kinda shameful. It's not exactly politically correct. But if I can't tell you, dear Internet, then who the heck can I tell? This blog is supposed to be an outlet for all my inner thoughts and shit. Here it is.

I find stereotypes really funny.

Even the ones that aren't considered "polite" to find funny in this day and age. Like, the baaaaaad ones. (Shhhhhhhhh... don't let anyone hear you say it....)

Last night, I encountered one such stereotype in hot yoga. Let me tell you about it and after you've heard it, you can judge me and my political-incorrectedness.

So, I went to the yoga studio last night and saw the name of a new instructor when I signed in. It was Manoj. Didn't think much of it, since I live in Canada and all. Not exactly an unheard of name around these parts.

When I wandered into the class, I saw a very pretty Indian girl sitting at the front of the class. I assumed that was Manoj and she'd get started any minute.

But THEN, as I was mentally preparing myself for some good ol' downward facing dogs, the littlest Indian man walked into class. This guy was short and had THE SKINNIEST legs I've ever seen in my life. I am not exaggerating when I say his thigh was about the same size as my upper arm.

I watched him and his little head that carried a little pair of glasses on it, walk to the front of the class, sit down and instantly go all pretzel-like into the lotus position (where you sit cross-legged, but with both feet resting on your legs instead of the ground). He put his hands into prayer position and started talking to the class.

And all I could think was, "I've got Gandhi reincarnated as my yogi tonight!!!" He's GOT to go by Swami Something-or-other. Manoj must be his Canadian name.

Like, really? Could you get any MORE stereotypical? There's a little Indian man, that I could snap in two without breaking a sweat, all pretzel-like, up front in my yoga class. The only thing that would have made it better was if he sounded just like Gandhi (or, what I imagine Gandhi sounded like in my head).

So, I tried stifling a giggle and focusing on my breath, instead of Swami Manoj's skinny little legs and natural aptitude for bending into unnatural shapes.

And yes, I thought he was kinda funny. But I was also pretty darned impressed with his cobra.

So that makes me less politically incorrect... I think.

Run, Hezzie... RUN!

May is the month of races for me: Two half marathons. Two weeks apart from each other. Only 3 weeks until my first one.

(I will pause to allow this scary fact to actually SINK IN).

Ack!

Yesterday I ran my longest training run until the actual race. 20kms... bright and early in the morning. It took me longer than I would have liked... but then again, it's just a training run. And it was 20k!! (Not easy, I tell ya.)

Anyway, so I don't want to jinx things, and have been knocking on wood all over the place... but... I'm feeling good this year. (Last year? Was not so good. Had LOTS of leg pain. Was injured. Probably shouldn't have run the half marathon). But this year... I'm thinking I might actually be able to run, pain-free.

Everybody please knock on wood along with me now... *knockknockknockknock* and an extra *knock* for good measure.

We'll see how it goes. But, yeah. The running thing is making me feel pretty darn good about myself lately.

Last year's race bib. That's MRS. 3909 to you, bub.

Cuteness personified

I'm leaving for the company offsite soon (curling... getting drunk... yelling "HURRY HARRRRRD!!!" as loud as we can).

So... I don't have much time for a blog entry. Instead - I'd like you to try, just TRY, not to melt at the insane cuteness that is my little nephew.

"If I smile at Auntie Hez just like this, I'll get anything, ANYTHING I want from her for the rest of my life."
This kid, he's planning for the future. So smart.

OMG, that face. Would you look at that face? This guy has successfully mastered the art of wrapping me around his little, itty-bitty finger.

Stuff n' junk

You know when sometimes you have a little bit of extra time for the first time in a long time?(And you know when you wonder how many times you can say time in one sentence???)

Anyway - yes. I have some extra time on my hands right now. Which means I should be able to write a good, engaging blog. Except? I have nothing interesting to say. Instead? You get a random list of stuff.

Hez's Random List of Thoughts and Snippets:

• I went and saw the documentary "Living in Emergency: Stories of Doctors Without Borders" last night. Still have a lump in my throat. Was v. good.
  
  
• I'm going curling tomorrow. Random. (It's a work function. Supposed to be a "team offsite". Code word for "Let's get drunnnnnnnnkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!")
  
  
• I was tired and blah for two days, but am on the mend now. Discovered that a run and a Cadbury Thin chocolate bar (with almonds) will cure whatever ails me. (Almonds are a must though.)
  
  
• No longer fear the Twitter. Have adapted to the Twitter. Not sure if there's much point to it though. ("Pssst.... Hez: your age is showing.")
  
  
• Yelled out "YOU. SHALL. NOT. PASS!!!!!!!!" at my brother on the weekend. Think it's one of the funniest things to yell at someone. Then again, am huge LOR geek.
  
  

That is all.

The ongoing saga of the home reno

Hubby and I have a great home. We love it. The area's great. The space is perfect. The location is ideal. It's awesome.

But for some reason - we can't seem to help ourselves when it comes to changing up the insides. Once again... we're about to embark on yet another home reno.

For those of you that don't know, the "another home reno" I mention refers to the past work we've done, including: redoing the den/basement area even though it was already finished: ripping out the flooring, tearing down the walls and completely demo-ing and re-doing the entire little bathroom down there. Apparently that was not enough. Oh no!

Now - we are tackling the kitchen.

Of course, when I say "we", I mean "contractors who do this for a living" because me? I'm a writer. I can use my words - I can't use a hammer. And hubster? He's super handy, but he works 12 hour days at a non-desk job. So, even though some crazy men out there will work at their job all day and spend all their free time working on their house until they have no energy and are tired and grumpy all the time... that just ain't ideal for us. I like my hubster happy.

Anyway. Back to the kitchen.

The reason I'm excited enough to write a whole blog about all of this is because hubby and I are finally investing in our marriage. And by that, I mean... We are getting a dishwasher. (*Insert sound of heavens opening up and angels singing here*)

Yes. We've decided that if we want to stay happily married for many years to come, We. Must. Have. A. Dishwasher.

Unfortunately, even though our kitchen is a decent size, there's not much cupboard room to just put one in. So - we have to have the counter/cupboard area extended in order to fit in the dishwasher. This was all we planned on doing. Until the contractor came and told us about what he could do for us.

Now? In addition to a dishwasher extension being built, we are:

• Getting new counter top
• Installing a new tap for our sink
• Having ALL NEW, CUSTOM BUILT cupboards made (All new!!!!) (Custom built!!!!)
• Building some fancy-schmancy wine rack into the top cupboards over our fridge
• Getting a microwave built in over the stove
• Extending our pantry
• Repainting

We sound like suckers. I know it. But our kitchen is going to look gorgeous, people. GORGEOUS! And... with the new home renovation tax credit we get... we'd be suckers NOT to have it done.

When it's ready, y'all can come over for a kitchen party.

Bring on the long weekends with no religious association already

Another holiday come and gone. (I use the term "holiday" loosely, since Easter is all about religion, and I am very NOT religious. So... really - it's just another long weekend with mandatory family visits.)

And - as usual - ate way too much, was exhausted all weekend and fought with the fam. Thank goodness I'm back to work for a rest.

Enjoy the week everyone!

I somehow remember Bubba's lip being bigger

The other day, when I posted the whole Lip Debacle Story, I referenced Bubba from Forest Gump. A little later on in the day, I got an email from a coworker with this attached:

And suddenly my "Shrimp gumbo... shrimp cocktail... shrimp stew..." rambling was not as funny anymore.

I could have sworn Bubba's bottom lip was much bigger. Mine sure as heck was much bigger.

Anyway - if I confused any of you with the Bubba/lip/shrimp reference, my sincerest apologies. I'm not as funny as I thought... dammit. I shall repent by watching an 18-hour marathon of Monty Python.

The Great Twilight Debate

While spending time with a group of friends over the weekend, the conversation turned to books. And before long, many of my girlfriends started gushing over the latest in the whole vampire phenomenon... Twilight.

For those who don't know, author Stephenie Meyer has written a series of books about a "hunky" vampire named Edward who (of course) falls in love with a human girl who he can't be with - for obvious reasons. Much gooey love and sexual tension ensues.

Oh... and also? Much to my friend Jay's SERIOUS chagrin, these vampires - when exposed to direct sunlight -- glitter. (Bram Stoker is rolling over in his grave.)

Anyway, I'll be the first to admit that I'm SO not above fluff books. I love me some fluff. Every now and again, I just want to read something that doesn't require thinking. Something light and fun. Which is why, even though I resisted at first, I picked up the first book in the series.

And again, I'll admit that I liked the first book (even though the print was huge and the style almost made me revert back to an insecure preteen who just so wanted to experience her first kiss...)

So, since I thought Twilight was decent... I picked up the second book. And?

It sucked.

It was royally bad. So bad that I gave up on the series. Until a friend told me that the second book was the least favourite of many readers, but the third one redeems it.

So I picked up the third book. And?

It sucked, too.

When I explained my dislike of the books to another friend on the weekend, her response was "Oh Heather - you just need to lighten up."

And while I can understand why she said it (I sounded like the snotty English major that takes herself and her literature very seriously)... I stand by my judgement.

I normally lap up all the rom-com and mushy goodness that one can take. I love a good sappy romance that makes you walk around with a goofy grin on your face afterwards. I love it when the guy gets the girl. I love happily ever after.

But when it's poorly written, and the lead female character is a weak-minded pushover who falls apart unless she's got her burly vampire (or werewolf) to take care of her... I just can't get in line.

For adult women who just enjoy the book for whatever they take from it - sure... go ahead and enjoy it. But for young girls - what is this teaching them? What are they learning? What are they learning about love? About strength of character? Are preteen girls self-aware enough to not be influenced by a story that revolves mostly around sexual tension and less about real, emotional love?

Then again, it is just a book about vampires who glitter. Maybe it's been too long since I've been a young girl.

Of course, in my day... preteen books were good.

Things

Monday. Here we are again.

Another work week ahead.

Actually - I don't mean to sound so ominous. I actually had a good weekend and am feeling very fresh and lovely this morning.

Things completed over the weekend include:

• Stuffing my face with hubster and our good friend Jay at all-you-can-eat sushi
  
• Running 3.5kms and then hustling off to a 75-minute hot yoga class immediately after (Ah, sweat. How complex you are. I loathe you when I'm not dressed in workout gear... but when I'm in a hot yoga class... bring it on)
  
• Going to an open house/reception thingy for the friends who got married in Mexico
  
• Stuffing my face with delicious, delicious finger foods at said open house/reception thingy (And oh... the cheese. Glorious cheese. It somehow tastes much better when at a party, no?)
  
• Going grocery shopping, doing laundry
  
• Running 12kms whilst feeling slightly sickly (from the alcohol consumption at open house/reception thingy)
  
• Watching all of "Sleepless in Seattle", most of "X-Men" and the first half of "The Big Chill"
  

And that's that. Not a bad weekend, all in all. How was yours?

Yes. I bore a striking resemblance to Bubba.

So. Moving on from yesterday. Despite the weather, I'm actually much more cheerful and happy and lovely today. This blogging thing is pretty cathartic.

And now - with no real segue - A Story About My Lips.

I've always had a very sensitive mouth. My lips, in particular are extremely sensitive. When I get a cold sore, I GET A COLD SORE. It's ugly. It mutates. It threatens to stomp through Tokyo.

When I was a kid, I was swimming around in a wave pool at a water park and the locker key that was attached to my wrist swung up and hit me on the lips. It wasn't overly painful or anything (it was just a little key, after all) and I only got a teensy, tiny little cut. But the next day, my lips swelled up to the size of melons.

And when I go anywhere sunny for a prolonged period of time - I have to use SPF 4,568 on the kisser, or I get ugly fever blisters like you wouldn't believe.

You notice a theme here? Those babies are sensitive.

So, while I was writing my love letter to my week-long vacation in Mexico... I somehow forgot about the lip story.

Seems that SPF 4,568 is no match for the powerful Mexican sun because I somehow managed to burn just my bottom lip. (Just the bottom... I still don't quite understand how that happened). Anyway - so it was red and sore. I put aloe on it. I tried to leave it alone.

The Next Morning (before getting out of bed)...

Me: Honey, I feel funny.
Hubster: What do you mean?
Me: My lips.
Hubster (rolling over): Let me have a loo- OH MY GOD!
Me: What????
Hubster: Your bottom lip is HUGE.
Me: Just the bottom???
Hubster: Yeah... just the bottom one. (Trying very hard not to laugh.) Hon, it's all swollen. And it's almost... comical.
Me (after hustling off to the bathroom to check it out in the mirror): ALMOST comical??? Oh man. It's comical.
Hubster: Let me have a closer look here... (examining lips closely)
Me: "Shrimp gumbo... shrimp cocktail... shrimp stew..."

Unfortunately for you, I didn't get a picture of it, as I was a little too embarrassed. Having one giant lip on your face is weird. But I'll give you a mental image: I looked like a half of a hot dog bun.

Anyway - so a bucket of ice and an hour and a half later, it started going down. By the end of the day, you couldn't tell at all anymore. Phew.

And that... is my lip story.

Sigh.

I've just been reminded that I'm very human. Flawed and all.

I know I'm not perfect. And I know that I tend to get into arguments or disagreements with friends or acquaintances now and again, which usually result in that person not liking me. This is fine. I don't like everybody - why should everybody like me? I'm truly and honestly okay with that.

However... I can't help but get this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach after said arguments. Because suddenly? I'm reminded of everything that pretty much sucks about me. The things I do and say that people don't like. The way I act that rub people the wrong way.

In the past, I've just shrugged it off... "Oh, so-and-so is just being a jerk... they don't understand me". But sometimes that just doesn't work.

And a floodgate opens up inside my head. I can't stop thinking about why I make so many mistakes. Why I hurt the people I care about. Why I can't be the type of person that most people like. Why I can't just make people happy. Why I'm so friggin' stupid sometimes. And why I'm not a better person.

We're all flawed. I know. And trust me - this so isn't a fishing-for-compliments-post. At all. It's just that my brain doesn't stop working and I need an outlet. I need to feel sorry for myself and express my thoughts. I need to try and make sense of my flaws in order to feel better.

So, I understand everybody makes mistakes. But I can't help but feel that mine are magnified. That I'm the only one around my circle of friends and family making them often enough to have people end up disliking me.

When the hell am I going to learn?

I had such high hopes

Hey everyone... before I get started with my daily rambling, I just wanted to let you know that posting comments is welcomed. No wait... not just welcomed - encouraged! It's lovely! It makes me feel warm and fuzzy! I like comments! Comments and I are good friends! So feel free to throw them in here whenever you're inspired.

(Of course, if I just don't inspire you at all, that is also okay. This post is about my morning commute to work. It's leaving even me uninspired.)

Anyway... on with my daily blog. Now completely uninterrupted and commercial-free!!

*******
I got up extra early this morning to get to work early so I could accomplish much while it's still very quiet in the office. I had such good intentions.

Of course, I got to the Go train station just in time to hear that the train was delayed by 10 minutes. Not so horrid. But I already knew that meant I had 10 minutes less to devote to work. Whateves. I'll live.

However, because I got up earlier than normal to get more work done, I was tired. So I needed to make a stop at Starbucks on my way. And for some reason, the powers that be decided to give me the worlds slowest barista today. (I am perfectly aware of how snotty and yuppie I sound right now, yes. Thank you very much).

Anyway, so there's another 10 minute delay. Then, I got into work and couldn't just launch right into actual work. There's Facebook statuses to update! And friends' profiles to check out! There's my daily list of blogs to read! And banking that MUST be done right now!

So, here it is - 1 hour after getting off the train and I still haven't started working. So... I kinda got up early for a whole heck of a lot of nothing.

Then again, I got to devote extra time to entertaining you with my written word. Now, that's totally worth it, dontcha think??