Wordless Wednesday: My Lucky Number
Author Archives: Nicole Boyhouse
Spring has sprung!
Well, not really.
I grew up here and March is not, to me, a spring month. It’s a WINTER month. My birthday is in late April and that is when spring begins for me, which is not to say it won’t snow after said birthday, but it’s spring snow, rather than winter snow. Big difference. In the event that I move out of this city into a milder climate – one day, please, one day! – I will be stunned, surely, by flowers and grass and leaves in March but for now, it’s all about shovelling snow.
It’s easy to get down at this time of year, the sky is grey, the snow is on the ground and has been for five months, magazines everywhere are advertising spring fashions that I might be able to wear in another three months or so, if I’m lucky and it doesn’t snow, but yesterday I was walking the kids to school and I looked at their fleece toques. The snowflakes on them were perfect; they were perfectly formed, I could see all the individual designs, they were beautiful. I felt almost poetic, it was a lovely moment. I showed the boys each of their brother’s toque, and we all marvelled for a moment. I talked about every snowflake being unique; although truly that is not something anyone could ever prove, no matter how many resources you pumped into that kind of hypothesis, you could never, ever prove it. Although I suppose you could never disprove it either. It makes me feel someone like a snowflake agnostic.
Having a positive outlook is so important. That’s not to say we should all walk around chirping annoyingly about every! great! thing! in! the! world! because wow, would that be annoying. But I was reading (in O magazine, don’t JUDGE me people, I have a subscription, it was a gift subscription from my mother-in-law) about four things people have control over in terms of their health: not smoking, having a healthy diet, exercising, and having a positive, optimistic outlook.
I love that! I also truly believe that positivity and optimism can heal. My father-in-law, ten years ago, was diagnosed with colon cancer. He was a man typical of his generation; he had not been to the doctor in probably forty years, and he had been experiencing symptoms for many years prior to his diagnosis. At the time his tumour was the size of a grapefruit, it had started to metastasize, it was encroaching on organs, he was given six months to a year to live.
He didn’t believe it.
He went through aggressive treatment and all throughout he kept saying, “I am going to be healthy at your wedding.” When we got married – nine years ago tomorrow – he was healthy. You would have never known he was ill. Amazing the doctors, he recovered and regained his strength and until recently was cancer free. But that’s another story.
Serendipity
Do you believe in serendipity? And I don’t mean the movie, which was fine and all but lady, let me give you a hint here: if John Cusack asks for your phone number, don’t write it on a five dollar bill or in a random book or throw it away. GIVE HIM YOUR DAMN NUMBER. It’s John Cusack. Lloyd Dobler! One day he could be holding up a ghetto blaster outside your window and it would be the most romantic moment ever.
Slight digression: did you love Say Anything as much as I did? I love it nearly – but not quite – as much as I love When Harry Met Sally. I sigh audibly when I think of that movie. Oh Lloyd, you adorable slacker, you. And while I think that John Cusack is some fine drink of water, I actually think that it would be quite irritating to be with someone whose sole ambition is to spend time with me. I mean, really, I like being adored as much as the next girl, but there are limits to my patience with complete and utter worship. Not that this is exactly an issue for me, but still. That movie is fabulous with some truly great lines: “I gave her my heart and she gave me this pen.” “Joe lies, Joe lies, when he cries.” Sigh. Not to mention some great scenes; remember when the guy was singing “The Greatest Love of All” at the graduation ceremony? They can’t take away MY DIGNITY.
Anyway, back to serendipity. Friday night we went to the mountains for a night with the kids to celebrate Mark’s birthday and our wedding anniversary, both of which are coming up on Wednesday. While we were planning this little evening – a couple of weeks ago – I called the kennel where I send the dog for boarding, to book him in for a night. The woman on the phone informed me that she was sorry, but they didn’t take dogs for overnight boarding anymore. Since this was a Thursday, and only four days earlier I had picked the dog up from that place of business after boarding him there for eleven days, I asked when that policy was in place. I was informed, rather perkily, that there had been changes in management.
Huh. Suddenly it all made sense. When I picked the dog up from boarding there was a strange absence of dogs. As well, normally after he has been boarded with other dogs, he is completely exhausted like he just got back from the dog version of a Charlie Sheen party, and sleeps almost constantly, but this time he was surprisingly alert and did not seem at all tired. In fact, for days after he simply sat at my feet and stared at me in a disturbing sort of way. I realize now he was trying to telepathically communicate with me. I started wondering what, exactly, had been done or not done with my poor dog, but more than that, I had no idea what to do with the dog for the next time we were going out of town. In this city, all the big boarding kennels are either a) outside city limits, b) a 45 minute drive away, or c) full of strange and crazy restrictions (Our dogs are allowed to roam free! If you bring your own food you will be charged excessively!). The dog boarder that we had used was pretty much perfect; that is, perfect until they stopped boarding dogs while my dog was being boarded.
Later I was picking the kids up from school, and I happened on a friend I hadn’t seen in a while and for some reason it occurred to me to ask her about dog boarding, and it turns out that she has a friend who boards dogs out of her home, not ten minutes away from me. Score! So Barkley went there on Friday and I’m happy to report that he is currently passed out like he spent thirty six hours snorting cocaine and having sex with porn stars/hookers and boasting about his Labrador blood. Serendipity.
It’s a Long Way to Tipperary
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I set out green shirts for the boys to wear this morning, saying “Better wear your green or the leprechauns will pinch you!” Jake sighed heavily. “Mom, leprechauns don’t EXIST.” Ah, the magic of childhood.
My children may not be enamoured with the magical, but they are enamoured with science, as evidenced by their recent report cards. Happily, this happens to be right up my alley. Science experiments are my favourite indoor way to pass the time with the kids, and it’s what I’m guest posting about over at Significantly Simple!
When the lovely Laila and Heather over at Significantly Simple asked me to guest post, I was flattered and a little nervous. It’s my first guest post ever! I am losing my guest posting virginity. It’s just like losing actual virginity but without all the awkwardness and regret.
Anyway, take a wander over to Significantly Simple and let me know what you think! xoxo
The Hunger Games versus Harry Potter
I’ve been unwell for the past couple of days; I’ve had the cold that has been going around the kids’ school, and while it isn’t devastating, it is annoying in one of those “I just went through an entire box of Kleenex” sort of way.
Yesterday was spent in a cold medication-induced fog, the kind of day that not only gets in the way of any kind of productivity, but also gets in the way of basic functioning. I spent the afternoon dozing in and out on the couch while Jake watched TV – active parenting, no? – and woke up to find his stuffed Quatchi on my face. “I thought you might want to snuggle him!” Jake said happily, which made me happy although somewhat leery of being smothered.
I couldn’t even focus enough to read. On the weekend I read The Hunger Games, which Mark’s teacher had lent me with a high recommendation. I didn’t pick it up for a week or so, because it just didn’t seem like my type of book, and also I realize that the trilogy is very popular and the last time I tried to read something that popular – Harry Potter – I hated it and found myself alone on an island of non-enchantment. I still avoid mentioning that I dislike Harry Potter in certain circles, due to the emotional tarring-and-feathering I received from my feelings. So I worried that I would try to read this and hate it, and then I would be all alone again. Here I go again on my own…
But I loved it. I couldn’t put it down. It greatly surprised me and so if you, like me, have been putting off reading The Hunger Games because you think it looks terrible, it might surprise you! I took it to my hair appointment on the weekend because I couldn’t bear to pick up any of the usual tabloid magazines.
Last Thursday I was grocery shopping and I came upon two checkout lines: one with a senior couple who had only a few items left to unload in their cart, and one with a woman who had a full-to-overflowing cart, and so I lined up behind the seniors. I soon realized my mistake as the woman sped through the other lineup, and several other people after her, while I stood there waiting, waiting for the elderly woman to SLOWLY take one small item at a time out of her cart and the cashier SLOWLY rang it through and SLOWLY set each item with the utmost care in a shopping bag. I kept thinking to myself, be patient, it’s only five minutes out of your day, then be patient, it’s only ten minutes out of your day, then OMG how can it take fifteen minutes to unload six items, no, be patient, finally TWENTY MINUTES! IT’S BEEN TWENTY MINUTES ALREADY!!! While I was deep breathing and focusing on not shoving everyone out of the way and bagging all the damn groceries myself, I started looking at the magazine display. “Bachelor Brad Betrayed by Emily!” one magazine screamed, and went on to reveal that “engagement to dead Nascar driver was a lie!” Okay. Since this was last Thursday, and I know with 100% certainty that the Final Rose was only given out two days ago, I idly wondered if the network would be upset at this very important security leak. Another magazine claimed to be the Cellulite Edition. On the cover were various celebrities in various skimpy outfits, with circles around various body parts. Yippee. “Guess Who?” the magazine asked about someone in a bikini with “flabby love handles.” I wondered if people actually buy this magazine. They must, I guess, but how depressing. How depressing would it be to be someone who writes those “articles”? Even more depressing, those were the only two magazines that did not have Charlie Sheen’s and his crazy face splashed across the cover. When I finally left the store twenty-five minutes later, I felt like I had lost actual IQ points from just reading magazine covers.
And today I appear to be oscillating between being completely high, jittery, and unfocused due to cold medication, or completely foggy, slow, and unfocused due to having a cold. Apologies if this post makes no sense. But The Hunger Games! You should try it; you may like it!
Screw you, Daylight Savings. Screw you.
Edited to add: I just discovered that today is Pi Day! I didn’t even know Pi Day existed, but the fact of its existence has made me so suddenly happy that I almost deleted this post. Almost. But now I feel like dancing around – PI DAY! Please, a note of sympathy for my poor husband, as he has been listening to me rage about Daylight Savings; now he will have to celebrate Pi Day with me. Hooray for Pi Day!
Here’s a sign of spring: yesterday I was walking the dog and saw, despite the fact that there are snowbanks everywhere and it was only 8 degrees, two men wearing shorts. There is a special breed of Calgarian who just love to don their shorts the second the snow starts melting, which is bizarre to me but who am I to judge? I wear shorts exactly never. Let your freak flag fly, fellows. Enjoy your shorts.
It’s also time for my semi-annual diatribe against Daylight Savings Time. How I hate it. Hate doesn’t even fully describe it; Daylight Savings Time turns me into a red-hot-rage-against-the-machine-bitch. As you know, I’m not a violent person by nature, I’m all cheery and ahimsa, but I am telling you, people, time change makes me feel, as the beautiful and talented Allison says, all stabby.
And don’t get me started on the amazing reasons for time change because there ARE no good reasons for time change. Oh, it’s light late in the evening? Fuck you. I wake up at 4:55 a.m. and I like going to bed when it is dark. No one needs the sun setting at 10:00 p.m. NO ONE. And the children, my god, won’t someone please think of the children? We are all totally screwed up and crabby.
Oh, but we get the hour back in the fall! Do we? Do we now? Here’s what happens in the fall: the children wake up at their normal time, which is now one hour EARLIER than before, and not only is that excruciating from a psychological standpoint, but it also means that by dinnertime they are falling apart with tiredness, and can barely stay awake until bedtime, and then they are sleep deprived assholes. In the spring, the children wake up at their normal time, which is now one hour LATER than before, so when it is bedtime they are not tired and also there is bright fucking sunshine, so they fall asleep later and are exhausted when you wake them up for school. Then, since they are exhausted they are falling apart and crabby by dinnertime and they have turned into sleep deprived assholes. You see? No change. Just a whole lot of crabby children and parents. And, since it takes several days to fully adapt to a change in time, it is almost a week of crabbiness. STOP THE MADNESS.
Let me tell you something, people, Saskatchewan has it right. I know, I know, insert your smartass Rider Pride/ dog ran away/ paint drying/ pass the freaking wheat comments here, but they are leaders in this country with regards to time change. We could all take a lesson from Saskatchewan. And the next time someone erroneously tells me that we have Daylight Savings Time because “of the farmers” I will punch them in the face.
Whoa. Where did all that anger come from? This is what Daylight Savings does to a person. Om Shanti.
On a more positive note (like I could get more negative, right?) thank you all for your kind words and comments. I treasure all your comments and support, so thank you so much.
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| A happy picture to make up for my colossal bitchiness. From the Happiest Place on Earth! Pluto was the one and only character the kids wanted to see. The rest, they said, were “kind of creepy”. What can I say, I agree |
Frivolty in the Face of Tragedy
So. The day after I post a story about my over-reaction to a water main break on my street, the earthquake and related chaos and possible nuclear meltdown occurs in Japan. I feel like an asshole.
How do you talk to your children about such things? Mine are at an awkward age where they are aware, but cannot understand the magnitude or the likelihood or otherwise that it will happen to them. They are also highly imaginative. I have not been watching any coverage when they are around.
I feel it’s best to focus on ways to help. I think that reacting in a positive way is best, because kids are not only perceptive but also naturally want to know that there is a solution. And while there may not be a solution, exactly, there are ways to help.
I recently read something about a man who had received compliments on his child, and those compliments included the word “lucky”. He responded very indigantly and in an offended manner, that luck had nothing to do with it; essentially he is a superior parent. My initial response to this is that buddy, if someone is complimenting you, take the damn compliment. We live in a society, people. Also, I do believe that parenting has a lot to do with how your children turn out, a lot, but I also believe in karma and fortune. I have been very fortunate – I have two wonderful, healthy, smart children, I have very few worries and concerns – and I count my blessings every damn day. I count my blessings that I live in a place where being cold and crappy are the biggest weather-and-geographical related issues, rather than being in a place that is earthquake/tsunami/hurricane prone. I count my blessings that I am able to sit at my laptop and bitch about my water being turned off for two hours, that I have my family and that we are all together, all safe and healthy.
And now I’m going to sign off and go play with my beautiful children and revel in my sheer luckiness.