Category Archives: Playtime

Unmoored

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The boys have been visiting my parents this week, and I don’t mind telling you that I have spent this week feeling greatly unmoored, particularly yesterday. I had no classes to teach yesterday and it was a moon day, which meant no early morning yoga either. I spent a few hours just wandering around the house, drinking coffee and looking at social media, until I decided that I should probably go to spin class, if for no other reason then to get out of the house at a specific time.

From all accounts, the boys have been having an Epic Week, which is to be expected when visiting indulgent grandparents who live on a lake with access to every kind of fun thing you can imagine. During last night’s phone call, they informed my husband that yesterday they a) went mini-golfing, b) went to the Aquasplash, c) had ice cream at the local parlor, and d) went for dinner at a restaurant specializing in chicken wings. If there could be anything better for young teen boys, I do not know what it could be.

After class today I am heading up there myself, and am crossing my fingers that the extreme thunderstorms will hold off for a few hours after I get there, so I can also have some fun in the sun. It’s been beautiful and hot here, the garden is in full bloom with riotous colours, life is good.

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I recently read one of the best books I have EVER read, and that is really saying something. It’s called The Women In The Castle, and a student had recommended it to me a month or so ago. The description seemed pretty meh, to be honest, and I had just finished a bunch of very depressing reads. For those interested in depressing reads: Nearly Normal, which deals with the most dysfunctional childhood you can imagine, living off the grid for years with her clinically insane grandfather, then squatting in abandoned places with her mother while her mother has sex with near-strangers right beside her, and as much drug use as you might expect for such a story, in the 1970s. After that was Educated, another crazy dysfunctional childhood with an absolutely nutjob set of parents. Both of these books are testaments to human resiliency but honest to god, they are also so sad. Finally, I read Diana: Her Story and I have much to say about that, but will save it for later. Shortly thereafter, I got around to reading Lilac Girls, which my mother had lent me and which deals with Nazi experimentation on Polish women in a concentration camp, which pretty much finished me off, mentally. I considered reading the Sweet Valley High box set I had found as a countermeasure, but I had a few library books come in.

So I had mentioned in a class that I had read these depressing books and needed a pick-me-up, and a student came up to me after class and recommended The Women In The Castle. I dutifully put it on my library hold list, but it a) deals with Nazi Germany, and b) I wasn’t sure that it sounded like an uplifting, life-affirming book. When it came into the library I reluctantly started it, and then found I couldn’t put it down. What a wonderful, incredible, thought-provoking book. Believe me when I say you will not regret reading this, even if you are not a fan of historical fiction.

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Speaking of historical fiction, I was thinking about the movie Forrest Gump yesterday. It’s been 24 years since that movie came out; I loved it then and I still love it now. The other day I came across this question: what’s your favourite little moment in a big movie? We all know I’ll have what she’s having, but what about Don’t fuck with Mr. Zero and Someone is staring at you in Personal Growth? Those are perfect moments in a perfect movie. Actually, When Harry Met Sally is full of perfect moments. However, if I have to choose one small scene in a big movie, I would have to go with this one in Forrest Gump: when Forrest finds himself listening to a Black Panther talk about the war in Vietnam, and he is watching Jenny’s boyfriend yelling at Jenny from across the room. The douchebag smacks her and Forrest goes mental, all the while Hey Joe is playing to a crescendo. That, in my opinion, is a scene of perfection.

There’s another small moment prior to that, when Jenny introduces her gross boyfriend to Forrest, who is all dressed up and decorated in his uniform. The boyfriend says “Who’s the baby-killer?” and it occurred to me yesterday, that guy would fit in perfectly on twitter.

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Just now, I looked at twitter. There was a recipe, and I am not joking here, for Red Velvet Corn Dogs. I thought for certain that it must be a mistake, or maybe one of those cutesy recipes in which a cupcake is shaped like a corn dog but no. No. The recipe calls for, among other things, red velvet cake mix and a 10-count package of hot dogs, so the apocalypse is officially on us. Also, 2 quarts of canola oil, for frying. “Enjoy with your favourite dipping sauce!” is the note that the recipe cheerfully ends on. Enjoy. With your favourite dipping sauce.

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A few weeks ago, I was in the baking section of my beloved local Co-Op when I saw this:

Whoops! I know that, come fall, everything will be pumpkin spice this and pumpkin spice that, but this is a bridge too far, in my mind. Perhaps the Red Velvet Corn Dog people might find this useful and inspiring. Mark my words, we shall soon see Pumpkin Spice Refried Bean Pie, if this is any indication.

Hopes and Dreams, Flushed.

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In this day and age of click-bait, article headlines can be very misleading. Ten fashion mistakes that are aging! Six tips to make life better – you won’t believe number three! This woman switched lemon water for coffee and you won’t believe what happened (murder). 

It’s refreshing, then to come across an article that is perfectly summarized by the headline such as this one on the CBC website:

There are just so many things to say. One small detail though: it may be summer, and the rest of the country might be sweltering in a heat wave, but this earlier this week I had to turn on the furnace, so being naked in that weather seems like a poor choice. Well, that and possible theft of a Canada Post vehicle.

In any case, perhaps Canada Post vehicles are equipped with seat warmers. That is one image that I do not want to dwell on, so let’s move on.

The weather has turned now – just in time for Stampede, and if I may, let me direct you to my archived posts about dressing for the event, plus a shot of my rarely worn cowboy boots – and so yesterday we went to the local amusement park. It is our tradition to go on the first day of summer vacation, but that week was so weirdly set up, and also the weather was, shall we say, poor. For Canada Day weekend we were at my parents’ place at the lake – another tradition – and it was lovely, lots of fun, but the weather kiboshed some of our plans. We put the paddleboards in for the 2018 inaugural paddle, and had been in only twenty minutes before the rain – followed by hail – started.

Anyway, yesterday was a perfect day for the amusement park, and my friend (HI TARYN) came along with us which was a nice bonus for me. She captured my feelings about bumper cars perfectly in this shot:

GAME ON, you little fuckers.

Here I am, trash talking my own son.

My friend and I spent some time discussing something I’ve thought of often: how insane will the employees be by the end of the summer, saying the exact same thing every few minutes, only to be completely disregarded by patrons of the park? I have wondered this about Disney and Universal employees before as well – how many times a day can a person say “No running in the ride area” before they completely lose their reason? I mean, I say “watch your knees” about a hundred times a week, but it seems different somehow.

I was wondering about the bumper cars employees in particular, because no matter what they say, the rules are always completely disregarded. First, there is a great deal of signage all over the ride and lineup that states that no child under a certain height will be allowed to ride under any circumstances. The bumper cars have no seatbelts, and I imagine a small child could literally be tossed out of the car with a particularly boisterous bump. And yet. And yet every single time there is a parent with a tiny child who looks COMPLETELY SURPRISED and taken aback when the employee tells them the child cannot ride.

Second, the rule is that all cars need to drive in a clockwise fashion, in order to eliminate head-on collisions and, presumably, lawsuits. Every single time there is at least one park patron going in the wrong direction, ostensibly to cause head-on collisions. Every single time. Once, last year, the employee actually STOPPED the ride and refused to start it again until the appropriate direction was taken. Clearly the breaking point was reached for that fellow, like Michael Douglas in Falling Down.

Perhaps the signage in the ladies’ washroom was meant for the employees of the park:

You cannot flush hopes and dreams, people. Even if you find yourself in a terrible summer job where no one listens to you. The key, I think, is probably to just stop caring.

Oh, summer jobs. I was talking with some friends about the worst summer jobs we ever had and mine, hands down, was the summer that I was a beer sample girl. If you want to be harassed for your entire shift, ad infinitum, this is the job for you! I finally quit when the company got a Busch beer contract and I was required to wear a bathing suit to work. I mean, I got hassled enough wearing clothes; I could not feature what would happen if I was standing there, in a chilly room, wearing nothing but a swimsuit and heels. Even Miss America doesn’t do that anymore.

1998 was twenty years ago

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Yesterday I heard Total Eclipse of the Heart twice: once on the way home from yoga, and once during dinnertime. It reminded me of one of the greatest movie scenes ever; the wedding dance from Old School. I cannot hear that song without mentally substituting the lyrics. I also heard 1999 twice yesterday, but that did not fill me with the same level of joy. Here’s my controversial confession: I do not really enjoy the music of Prince. I don’t NOT enjoy it; I certainly would sing along if When Doves Cry came on the radio, but I do not seek it out.

Another controversial confession: I really, really dislike the music of Tom Petty. And for my money, Beast of Burden is not only the best Rolling Stones song ever written, but I don’t even think there is a close second.

Well, I did not set out today to write about the music of late performers and defunct bands; moving on.

The main music – and I use that word very loosely – I have been treated to lately is that of screaming magpies. Magpies have, evidently, made a nest nearby and every single time I leave my house they are swooping around me, screaming loudly. Barkley seems to be equally targeted, never mind that in a million years he could not reach a nest that is ostensibly thirty feet off the ground. A part of me thinks aw, they are just trying to protect their babies, but after several days of low-flying aggressive magpie action, my thoughts turn to goddammit, no one WANTS your horrible babies, go away. I saw a pair of magpies aggressively chasing away squirrels, though, so there is an upside to this. At least the magpies, as irritating as they may be, are not in the market to eat my bulbs or dig up my flowers.

By the way, my tulips never did bloom, not a single one. They all just lay there in their weirdly flattened foliage, sadly sinking back into the earth from whence they came.

This morning I learned that Sex and the City debuted twenty years ago this year, TWENTY YEARS, PEOPLE. Remember when women would identify with the main characters, as in “You’re such a Charlotte.” Well. Time passages and and all that. A Sex and the City episode was the catalyst for the worst fight my husband and I ever had in our entire relationship, to this day I cannot think about “Your girl is lovely, Hubble,” without thinking of my fury in our tiny apartment on the 30th floor, without being able to even slam a door. At the time it was intense, but now, nearly twenty years later, it seems very lame, that we had a fight about Carrie and Mr. Big.

Nowadays, the only source of marital tension is my One Year Shopping Challenge, which my husband hates with a passion. Just go buy yourself some damn clothes! he has said on numerous occasions. A few weeks ago I was having coffee with a friend (HI TWYLA) and she complimented me on my raincoat, a plaid Lululemon that I bought when the kids were in preschool. Thanks, it’s really old, I said and she shook her head. Are we still doing that, then? The no-buying thing? she asked with sympathy. Yes we are. Less than eight weeks to go and my god, I simultaneously cannot believe I have done it and also I cannot wait for it to be done.

One thing about this challenge is that I have been able to identify some true needs in my wardrobe. Well, “needs” might be a strong word; as my mom always says, I’m not sure the word NEED comes into play here. Wants, then. For starters, on my trip to Mexico I noted that several of my trusty old bikinis no longer fit properly, as in, if I dive too quickly into the water there is going to be an accidental skinny dipping situation. I do still have a couple that can get me through until August 1, so things aren’t really desperate. Still. A new bikini or two would be nice.

I’m also noting that a few of my yoga clothes, while still in good shape, are beginning to look pretty faded and worn, which isn’t too surprising since most of my pieces are over five years old and have withstood a lot of wear and laundering. Some of my tanks and pants are a decade old, some even older. So really, I think I can probably treat myself to a few new pieces. I do find myself in yoga clothes daily, often two different outfits a day, one for practicing in and one for teaching.

Other than that, I’m not too tempted to shop these days, since I do not enjoy the current styles. I already wore them, back in the 90s. Overalls, high waisted pants, crop tops, bodysuits, and ONE PIECE JUMPSUITS. Think about using a public washroom while wearing a jumpsuit, just think about it for a moment. I’ve done all of those styles, and I’m not interested in doing them again, particularly the jumpsuits. Well, and the rest of them. I shall leave the youth styles to the youth and continue to live in my yoga clothes topped with flowy sweaters, like the future Golden Girl that I am. All I need are brightly coloured necklace-and-earring sets and some florals and I’ll be ready to go.

Speaking of colours, I seem to be so desperate to end this shopping challenge that when my husband pointed out some bright orange Lululemon crops to me, I actually thought those look nice. I have never worn such a colour in my entire life and I most likely never will, due to my fear that it would match my hair too closely, but it is illustrative of my desperation.

Also? Speaking of Golden Girls…remember slips? Do women still wear slips? I remember being made to wear slips, particularly to church, back in my childhood. Slips, as I remember, were a guard against a) clinging dresses, b) anything even marginally transparent, and c) immodesty in general. It seems to me that they would be very outmoded now, but I’m curious – does anyone still wear them, or did they go the way of the housedress? When I think of slips, I think of my beloved late grandma, who would also encourage wearing a pin or brooch at one’s neckline to ensure that one was not showing too much of the chest region. I wonder what she would think of my work wear.

Karaoke Queen

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This morning I saw an article titled “Best Karaoke Songs of All Time” and of course I clicked on it; I’m not made of steel, people. I was sadly disappointed though, only one of the songs – Don’t Stop Believing – was, in my mind “best.”

I love karaoke, and not in a If I Have Enough Drinks kind of way, no, I would surely karaoke dead sober at the airport at 6:30 in the morning if there was a machine available, or while waiting in line at the grocery store. If it was socially acceptable I would be karaoke-ing all the time, any time, any place. As it is, I just sing along to the radio and live with the songs that are constantly stuck in my head.

Did I mention that a few weeks ago I had Ride Like The Wind stuck in my head for five days straight? It was quite something to have and I’ve got such a long way to go, (such a long way to go), to make it to the border of Mexico going through my head on a loop for a hundred and twenty hours. I even dreamed about the song, which made me a little bit concerned about my sanity and my life choices, specifically what songs I put on my Spotify playlists.

I have a theory about karaoke, and the types of people who are attracted to it. There are, as I see it, three main types of people. The first type are the people like my friend Dom (HI DOM) who have good voices, can sing well, and have fun doing it. These people sing crowd favourites, and are very enjoyable to listen to. On our recent trip to Huatulco, there were a number of people participating in karaoke night who fall into this category. Notably – other than my friend Dom – was the teenage brother and sister combination who sang Bohemian Rhapsody while their father Dad Danced onstage.

The second type are the people who appear as though they believe they will be discovered on the Voice and who choose songs that are not necessarily popular with the crowd, but that showcase their talents. I am NOT judging here, but it is decidedly less enjoyable to listen to a young woman earnestly singing several Amy Winehouse songs, as opposed to an enthusiastic-but-less-musically-talented person singing Sweet Caroline, which happens to be one of the actual best karaoke songs ever written. Also included in the I Am A Contestant On The Voice In My Own Mind category was an older woman with a soprano voice singing The Long and Winding Road, and another lady who sang I Will Always Love You. People, a Whitney Houston song is always risky. Only Whitney can sing like Whitney; one might as well try to sing along to The Phantom of the Opera. Unless, of course, you are the fellow in Say Anything singing The Greatest Love of All. If you haven’t seen that particular movie in a while, here is the very classic clip.

Which brings me to the third category, into which I fall: the person who loves to sing but has a less than stellar voice. What can I say, what I lack in vocal talent I make up for in stage presence:

For the record, I’m singing You’re So Vain.

I often think of the Soundtrack Of My Life, and what songs remind me of different times of my life. This morning I heard When The Night Feels My Song and I became overwhelmingly nostalgic for those years with the kids when they were little; that specific song used to be played on CBC Kids, which is what led me to the bout of nostalgia. Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You will always remind me of late night feedings with my firstborn, as we didn’t have many channels then and that song was played a lot on Much Music, which I watched in an attempt to stay awake during those times. The Cha-Cha Slide brings me back to the early years in elementary school, as my younger son – strangely enough – performed to that song in kindergarten. And of course there are the songs that take me back to my own school days; Don’t Worry Be Happy, Mony Mony, and anything by The Grapes of Wrath and Depeche Mode. I Like To Move It (Move It) will always remind me of my bar-hopping days, and the Gypsy Kings bring me back to the days when my husband and I were dating.

I’m not sure what song is playing in my Life Soundtrack right now, as Ride Like The Wind has now wound its way back into my brain. Oh my god, maybe THAT’S it. Hoo boy. I think I need to go listen to something else to try to shake this. xo

I remember waiting for the school bus…

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Two days ago I decided to take an enormous leap of faith and wash my calf-length, super-warm parka. I put it in the downstairs closet, along with my Sorels, and I hope that I haven’t cursed us all. I did leave out my other giant, but shorter, parka just in case. It’s my birthday in a couple of days and I keep forgetting, because there is still so much snow and ice on the ground that it doesn’t feel like it’s as late in the year as it is. Don’t get me wrong; snow in April is nothing new, and neither is snow in May. The difference this year is that we still have snow on the ground that was there in October; winter snow, as opposed to spring snow, as my dad helpfully differentiated for me the other day.

Well, I finished Prairie Fires and I am gratified anew to a) not be a pioneer, b) not be the mother of a crazed Libertarian who destroys all relationships, and c) to live in the modern age. I am also gratified that my plumbing and running water issues have – knock on wood a thousand times – been resolved. As I mentioned, the very good-looking young plumber had fixed a lot of things but the water filter was leaking, which required a visit from the very specific Water Filter Guy. The last time the Water Filter Guy was here, said Guy was an older, kindly gentleman who has since retired and left his clients to a new, Startlingly Handsome Water Filter Guy. Seriously, people, I opened the door and wondered if I was on hidden camera.

I always find it interesting, the career trajectories of other people. Was Startlingly Handsome Water Filter Guy always such? No, he was once a high school basketball coach. My own career has changed so much over the years; I find it fascinating how people find themselves in different lines of work. Of course, often the trajectory is more pragmatic, more about paying the bills and flexible schedules and so forth, but still.

School bus drivers, for example. It’s a flexible schedule and probably not badly paid – I have no idea, really – but you would have to be a special kind of person to be able to be in a large motorized vehicle with dozens of insanely loud children every day. Every morning when I drop the kids off at school I see the line of empty buses at the end of the street, and beside one of them is a driver, having a smoke. He wears shorts every single day, no matter what the weather is, with a ball cap and a hoodie, hood up. As I watch him smoke, I think of Otto the bus driver on The Simpsons. The guy just dropped off a bus full of junior high students, he NEEDS that cigarette, people. Obviously it cannot wait, his nerves depend on it. And who can blame him? Not me.

Last week I volunteered on a field trip for the Grade Eight Environmental and Outdoor Education class. Often their field trips are – obviously – outdoor based, but this one was to the climbing wall, and so it seemed to be more up my alley. I am a fair weather volunteer, and the weather has not, as I MAY have mentioned, been fair. I stepped on the bus and did a double take: the bus driver looked EXACTLY like Kid Rock.

Hat, hair, facial hair, clothing, everything. It was really uncanny. I started to wonder if it WAS Kid Rock, and if I should ask him to turn the stereo up and roll the windows down but sadly, I did not. He was pretty calm with the mass chaos on the bus, the hooligan grade eights, and so I was a little disappointed that he wasn’t driving the return bus. Rather, it was an older lady who was the female version of this:

 

Which, frankly, is completely understandable. It is the exact feeling I get when I’m driving a minivan-full of boys around. Flexible schedule or not, it would be – in my opinion – a terrible job, navigating traffic, the noise level, driving a huge uncomfortable bus.

Volunteering for junior high field trips is very different from elementary ones. For one thing, the bus situation – despite all this – is much better. The elementary school used to have kids three to a seat, even in the later grades, which meant that the bus would be hot, crowded, and extremely smelly, grade five and six students not being known for their excellent personal hygiene. Junior high kids, thank god, wear deodorant and brush their teeth, for the most part, anyway. Secondly, the volunteer gig itself mostly involves just existing, since the kids don’t need help with anything at all. I think the extra parents are just there for insurance purposes, because there is literally nothing to do but stare at the kids for several hours.

I took a few pictures though:

That’s my boy! I don’t tend to be a worrier, but there was a moment when I saw him at the top of the wall, knowing that he was being belayed by another fourteen-year-old who had just learned how to belay twenty minutes prior…well. All was fine. It was like the moment I had in Huatulco, when we took a local boat tour and snorkeling trip. We spotted two whales and some dolphins, and the boat driver – the captain, I guess? – sped out towards them. I thought, here we are, off the coast of Mexico, in a nine-person boat, heading off into the Pacific Ocean with a giant sea mammal nearby that could theoretically capsize this tiny boat, and no one outside our group knows where we are right now…

Anyway, as we all say it doesn’t pay to worry about what MIGHT happen. All’s well that ends well, and least said, soonest mended as Ma Ingalls was known to say, although this is a blog. Least said, soonest mended does not seem to be my mantra.

God bless mathematical algorithms

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“We are gearing up for the saddest week of the year!” the radio DJ said this morning, which startled me: is it Blue Monday already? I guess that’s what happens when January 1 is a Monday; god bless mathematical algorithms.

For all that, I am not blue today. Last week, a combination of the frigid temperatures and impending ladies’ holiday put me at Low Level Crabbiness, With A Tendency To Spike To Full-Blown Crabbiness. Today, though, feels fine, even though HOO BOY are there a lot of reasons to be blue these days. I mean…I will not go into them all so as to not depress us all but there are people out there who are not toddlers who are voluntarily eating Tide pods. I saw a small video clip, from Tide, of Rob Gronkowski telling people not to eat Tide pods and I laughed, people, I laughed. Then I found out that people are actually eating Tide pods and my laughter turned into a blank stare of confusion and disbelief.

Let’s not dwell on this, though, because I am assuming this is a very small portion of the population who looks at laundry detergent as a delicious, delicious snack. I’m trying not to see this as a reaction to the Crazytown Bananapants presidency and the appalling news that changes every five minutes. Probably it’s a weird way to get high. Don’t tell me, I don’t really want to know. Or do I? No, I don’t.

I don’t know why or how this happened, but I have had the old 1980s ParticipAction theme song going through my head ALL DAY LONG. This is even worse than the time I had the old Channel 2&7 Hello Calgary theme song stuck in my head. Hello Calgary, hello Calgaaaarrrryyyy…channels 2&7 love you! Well, if you’re feeling nostalgic and would like to see some very fit people clad in nothing but shorts and roller skates, or leotards and tights, click here for the old commercial. If you let it keep going you will be treated to some Body Breaks with Hal Johnson and Joanne Macleod, but I don’t recommend going down that particular rabbit hole unless you have some time on your hands.

Okay, I admit that I did watch the one on Airplane Exercise. Hey, what can I say, I have varicose veins and they become painful with air travel (yes, again) (I know) (apparently it’s rare) (I’m a unique snowflake/ unicorn). I do wear my super-sexy, full length beige support stockings while travelling, in case you’re wondering about how glamourous it is to be me.

Speaking of high fashion, do you people have any idea what is going on in this world? The fanny pack is back, I repeat, the fanny pack is back. It is now called a Belt Bag which, a rose by any other name, etc. As well: scrunchies. Scrunchies are back in style, so I guess my high school self should have saved all those little puffy bands that I colour-coordinated with all my outfits. I could be the hippest mom around! All I need are my old high school jeans with big belts and giant t-shirts all tucked in and I’ll be set!

Well, they always say you can never go back again, and so I shall leave the scrunchies to the next generation. Or will I? I’m due for a Nicole’s Favourite Things so…no. No, I just can’t go back there.

Happy Monday, lovely readers, if you’re feeling blue know that I’m sending you virtual hugs and cookies. xo

Three Things I Learned Yesterday

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Happy New Year everyone! I am going to admit right now that I love the New Year; I love the idea of fresh starts and new pages and YES, we can start a fresh page of our lives every single day and YES, we can (and I do) make changes and goals any time during the year, but still, there is something about New Year’s. Last year I resolved to focus more, and uni-task rather than multi-task more, and I think that I did improve on that front. I also resolved to read more and – inspired by my dear friend Allison (HI ALLISON) – I kept a record of all the books I read in 2017. I ended up reading 82 books, which I thought was pretty good. Simon and Schuster sent me a bunch of books to read and review and those reviews will be coming in the next little while. Suffice it to say they sent me some excellent titles, and some titles that I would say would be nice, light reads for the beach or holiday.

So what’s up for 2018? Are you making any resolutions, or goals, or words of intention? I have a hard time NOT resolving to do everything – in addition to multiple health, fitness, parenting, reading, and piano playing goals, I’ve also found myself resolving to be more like the mindfulness guru Dr. Saamdu Chetri who starts every day being thankful for the gift of twenty-four hours. Every day! Thank you for these twenty-four hours I have been given! I told my husband about that and he thought it seemed maybe a bit unbalanced. Maybe that’s true, but the principle is still a good one.

It’s a fine line, I think, between self-love and acceptance, celebrating the fabulous people that we are and the wonderful, blessed lives that we have, and also wanting to remake everything entirely on New Year’s. There is always room for improvement, though, and meanwhile, I’ll be over here practicing gratitude and patience and getting extra cardio.

The kids have been off school this week and my husband has been off work, which has been lovely and strange. I still have a modified class schedule, but yesterday I had nothing at all – so I decided I would get all my groceries in one go. That meant a trip to Costco in the morning and a trip to Superstore in the afternoon and suffice it to say that wasn’t the best idea I’ve had. Actually, now that I think of it, it WAS the best idea in terms of a cardio workout – I checked my “steps” on my phone and it turned out I walked 4.2 kilometres – although that did include a 2 kilometre dog walk. There’s a fitness hack for you – go grocery shopping! Especially when it comes to pushing heavy carts through snowy parking lots! Although I did take someone with me for each trip and made them push the cart but next time, it will be just me. I should patent this idea: get fit by grocery shopping, plus buy your veggies! It’s a win-win!

I often resolve to spend less time on the internet and social media, because sometimes it feels that no good can come of it. But then I am proven wrong, for if I wasn’t on the internet I would not have learned these three amazing things:

Pumping Gas

I had no idea that all this time that I have been choosing the “self-serve” lane at the gas station that I was doing something NOT ALLOWED in Oregon. At least, until recently, when Oregon mandated that people can pump their own gas in rural areas which has caused a bit of a kerfluffle in that state. Who knew? I mean really, WHO KNEW. Not me. Opponents to this ruling have many objections: transient people can steal their children while they are waiting in the car as the gas is being pumped, everyone’s hands will smell like gasoline, and – this is my favourite – people don’t KNOW how to pump their own gas. I am the first to admit I am a total idiot when it comes to my car – I don’t even know how to open the hood – but even I can pump my own gas. It’s really not hard. Suffice it to say that if I can do something, vehicle-wise, than it’s pretty much a guarantee even the village idiot can. Just don’t go all Zoolander at the gas station and you’ll be fine, people of Oregon.

Plinko Record SMASHED

Anyone who has watched The Price Is Right is well aware of two things: the commercials during the breaks are awesome, and Plinko is the very best game there is. This fellow from Cleveland SMASHED the previous Plinko record and went home with $39,200!

That’s enough to buy a NEW CAR.

Raw Water is a Thing Now

Years ago I remember talking to someone about iodine tablets to put in drinking water, while on a trip to Nepal. Iodine, she said, might not be the best thing but it’s better than explosive diarrhea on the hiking trail. Truer words were never spoken. But now, apparently, drinking unfiltered, untreated water is a Thing. Tap water – or even filtered bottled water – is for suckers. I live in close proximity to the Rocky Mountains, and while spring water may SEEM pristine and fresh, there’s a little thing called Beaver Fever. Or cholera. Although…if your New Year’s Resolution is to lose weight, there would be nothing more effective than contracting dysentery, so maybe this Raw Water Thing is really going to catch on!