Like Lucky Charms, But Different

This New Year's Eve was the first in a few where I actually had plans. Multiple plans, in fact. So of course I ended up doing nothing. Lame, yes, but I had good reasons, at the time.

That being said I decided to join in on Twitter's #wineparty because that's what all the *cool* kids do, ring in the new year while online with a glass of wine. And by 'wine' I, of course, mean 'cotton candy martini', my new favorite drink. And how do you make a cotton candy martini? I thought you'd never ask! After all, it's Magically Delicious!!!

Here's what you'll need:

• Apple flavored vodka
• Raspberry Sourpuss
• Cranberry Juice
• Ice
• A Shot Glass (or, if in a bind, a baby bottle with ounces on it... just remember to wash it after, for obvious reasons)
• A martini shaker
• Cotton Candy(I get mine at the bulk barn, you Americans are on your own for this one)
  

Start by adding 2 ice cubes to your martini shaker. Yes, this is an arbitrary number. And if you've had your cranberry juice in the fridge you probably don't need ice at all but it's really not as fun to shake a martini if there's no ice inside to make noise. And if you're like me you have a single-serve martini maker because a) you like to make things more difficult and b) it's pink. If you're also like me you have ice cube trays from Tupperware because a) you're tired of ice cubes tasting like the inside of your freezer and b) you're cheap but, after years of wanting them, finally bought them making them, quite possibly, your best purchase ever.


Next add some (ie a lot) of cotton candy to a martini glass. Any color/flavor will do although, let's be honest, yellow candy sucks and should be reserved for poor children in underdeveloped countries and/or homeless people (sorry, but it's true). I got Mike 'n Ike cotton candy for Christmas because a) apparently everyone is now aware of my cotton candy martini addiction and b) friends now gives gifts accordingly, which is a-o-k with me. Yum!


In the martini shaker, add equal parts vodka...


And equal parts raspberry sourpuss. The original recipe says an ounce and a half of each but I usually do an ounce of each because a) any more and you'll get tipsy in a hurry (where's the fun in that?!?) and b) any less and it'll just taste like cranberry juice and, let's face it, nobody likes cranberry juice. A cranberry juice blend? Fine. But cranberry juice straight-up? That's just wrong


Now add cranberry juice. I don't know how much because I just fill my single-serve shaker (see, it has it's perks!) but I'm guessing maybe 2 ounces... because every one knows what makes a really good drink is a 50% alcohol content. And remember... cranberry juice is good for you so the more of martinis you have the more your urinary tract will thank you! Your liver, on the other hand, may not.


Now shake (not stir... because I am *so* James Bond). Word of warning... put the cap on last. If you put the cap on the top before putting the shaker together the pressure will shoot it clear across the room. I know this because it happened. In the store. Wherein I could not find the lid that had shot across Pier 1. But don't worry... another customer found it under a table. I totally bought a different martini shaker too because, hello, that one's lid was on the floor. Have I mentioned lately how cool I am?


And for the piece de resistance... take the lid off (seems self explanatory but I make no assumptions) and pour the liquid goodness over the cotton candy and watch what happens, ignoring the fact it sounds like someone peeing (not me, of course, but 'someone'):




Enjoy!!!

Nacho-oridinary day

Last night I went for nachos. My favorite. Thing is... it may have been the last time in a very long time that I get to enjoy such a thing.

At the beginning of 2010 I was saying goodbye to a job doing something I loved with people who were more than just coworkers to embark on a new journey. I was nervous and scared and after my first day I realized I had made a horrible mistake. I promised to give it 90 days. And I did. I tried to go back to my old job but, thanks to budget cuts, it was no longer there to go back to and when the opportunity to go back finally came up a comment from one of the reasons I left confirmed what I had already known... that there was no going back after all. And so I stuck it out. It wasn't all bad, don't get me wrong, but it was a hard year. A year of confliction... a position I struggled with at a company I loved; a trip to a city I adored to attend a conference that left me feeling, well, conflicted; and a whole bunch of days and nights in between that found me unable to sleep, with my brain moving a million miles a minute, and oh-so-tired, with not a thought in the world. It went by so fast and yet nothing really happened, like many of the years before it.

And here I am again, on the eve of a new year. And what a year 2011 is already turning out to be. At first it appears to be more of the same as December brought the same news as the one that came before it... I got a new job!! But this time it's different (didn't I say that last year?). I'm not leaving something secure that I love for something I'm unsure of. This time I'm leaving something that should've been better than it was and bidding it good riddance, knowing that it can't possibly get any worse (knock on wood). I'm looking forward to staying within the same company but having different team members, doing something new and exciting. And I absofuckinglutely can't wait, despite I'll have to since I can't transition over until March. At least it's something to look forward to and, finally, all the tears shed and frustration felt during the last year feel as though they just might have led to something bigger. Better. That perhaps it was worth it after all. It's not a drastic move to New York, I'll give you that, but at least it feels like a step forward and not a step back. That's something I couldn't say, last New Year's Eve.

And for a year of no expectations, as so many of them seem to be for me, 2011 doesn't stop there. I'm getting my gallbladder removed next Wednesday (hence the nachos last night) and I've decided, vacation approval pending, that I'm going to go on a trip to Italy in May/June (if I can ever decide on which tour to take).

I don't know how I would describe 2010 if I had to. Full of possibility? A rude awakening? Not bad... just not what I expected. A year full of doubt, potential... disappointment and surprise. A year where I came into my own. A year where perhaps I started to care less about everything... and more about specific things.

I have long given up on wishing, if even ever-so-slightly, that "this year will be different". Because different isn't always better and hoping that "this year will be my year" can mean so many things, not all of them good. And the harder I seem to wish the more disappointed I tend to be. It's taken five years of secretly wishing to learn the best thing, really, is to not wish at all.

And, so, 2011 will be whatever it is meant to be. Good, bad... indifferent. It doesn't really matter. Because the best expectation, I've found, is none at all. Don't get me wrong, that's not to say I don't have things I want to achieve this year. To read more. Write more. Keep in touch with the people I care most about more. It's not that I won't resolve to do things, it's just that I'll set (and hopefully reach) my goals as the year progresses, rather than all at the start. I find the reflection of the year that's passed makes it feel like a competition. I end up feeling like I have nothing to show for the year that's passed so I try to make up for it by setting too many unrealistic goals for the year ahead. It might sound like I've given up and lack ambition but, like I said, it's been a year of confliction. And, so, if 2012 happens to finds me, much like tonight does, in the exact same spot as the year before I'll hopefully be able to say that at least I tried, even if it appears that I haven't. And maybe, just maybe, one of these years all this trying will actually pay off. Maybe not next year. Maybe not the year after. But maybe one of them. Eventually.

Of course I'd be lying if I didn't say I wish it would be sooner, rather than later. But I never was one for patience.

Another year done. How can that possibly be?!?

See you next year!

Merry (week after) Christmas!

It's been a while. I'm not sure if I lack ambition... or material. Or perhaps it's a little from column A... and a little from column B.

I have this week off. But it's been such a whirlwind that not until today did it really feel like I was 'off'.

You know how I normally don't enjoy Christmas? I think I might have to recant that. Because that whirlwind I spoke of? Was pretty much a tornado of awesomeness. I spent Christmas Eve in the company of family. Not family by blood, mind you, but a family who has taken me under their wing for years, even more so in the past few, as though I was lucky enough to have been one of their own. They are the best kind of people and I am forever in awe of them. I am beyond grateful... and lucky.

I spent Christmas Day at my cousin's. I had gone last year and it felt a tad awkward. It had been years since I spent the holidays with them. Twenty, in fact. Turns out it's not just me who's distanced themselves from my parents. And so there I was, once again invited into their home, but this time with no parents in tow. Free to be myself, without being told to be quiet or being given a look that said the same. And while last year I was nervous and barely stayed through super this year it was easy and comfortable, lasting long after the meal. Wii games were played and drinks were had. They even had Russian billets and their coaches staying with them which was interesting, to say the least. There were a few cultural differences (like the fact the 13 year old girl can drink a 26 of vodka, straight-up, in one sitting) but when the Wii came out there were suddenly no language barriers or cultural differences, given the fact everyone knew the words to Rasputin. I had arrived doubting if I should have come... and I left with an open and warm invitation for next year, happy to feel like perhaps I actually kind of belong to the family I had always wanted to be a part of but always felt I couldn't, simply because of who my parents were.

Boxing Day found me out of town for the birthday party of a 3 year old. The little girl who phones me when she bumps her head or stubs her toe. A little girl who played the night away with her friends, always sure to come upstairs from time to time and find her way into my arms or onto my lap, making me feel like the most special person in the world. And her brother... always the shy one, opened up, insisting he take the wind-up music box I gave him to bed with him... playing it in the morning as he walked down the stairs to wake me. After all, I had been invited to sleep over and how could I possibly say no to a little girl with blonde curls, blue eyes and a vocabulary and imagination of someone twice her age?

Needless to say, I've been busy. And between all of this I had presents to open on Christmas Day. From a Secret Santa, a neighbor, a coworker, friends and even from the family of friends, who I consider to be friends themselves. I received a visit from people I consider not only to be just friends but family and messages from friends near and far, both privately and for all the world to see. From friends that I had only met this year during an evening of cocktails and photo booths high above New York City overlooking Central Park, but feel as though I've known all my life, to friends I've known longer than I can remember. Messages that made me feel loved. Messages that made me cry in the most beautiful of ways, knowing that people still want things for me that I had long given up on for myself.

All in all it was the best Christmas I have had in years. Years! And quite possibly the most love I have ever felt in all my Christmases. And for all of you who helped with that, I can't thank you enough. For being not only a part of my day but my life. You mean more to me than you will ever know. I can't think of all the things I want to say... about how much you mean to me and how needed and treasured you are... so I'll just say the simplest of phrases, hoping you know it's said with the most love that could possibly be packed into two little words: Thank you!

And Merry Christmas! (or shortly thereafter)

Appropriate? Neigh!

I bought this little horse:


Why? Because he's cute!


And soft.


He was only $2.99.


And he's a finger puppet!


And do you know where you put your finger?


Here he is in action:


I think the look on horsey's face says it all:

Oh Christmas Tree

My rule of thumb for holiday decorating is that as long as the previous holiday has passed it's acceptable to decorate for the next one. And since Canadian Thanksgiving falls in October this means my Christmas tree has been up since shortly after Remembrance Day. Otherwise known as mid-November.

I have always loved the way my house looks at Christmas. It's the one time of year when the cracks in the wall and marks on the hardwood don't seem to bother me. (Cracks, I might add, that I fixed today! Well, the living room ones, at least) Such things are hard to see past the lighting on the tree and stockings on the mantle.

When I moved into my first apartment, almost 14 years ago, I may have been low on cash but not having a tree at Christmas was never an option. Years later, I sold my tree when I moved to Vancouver but the fact We ended up moving back in December was made all the better by a surprise of my first (and only) real Christmas tree. A magical tree, it lasted far longer than it should have and dropped far fewer needles than I had prepared myself for. Finding the cat asleep in it, mid-way up, only added to the magic, considering the fact it was still upright. I finally relinquished said tree mid-January where it sat beside the dumpster in the alley waiting for the tree recycling program to pick it up. It still looked pretty to me and it was all I could do to not go out and decorate it.

Nowadays I'm back to my artificial tree. A tree I drove to a nearby city, an hour away, to get because the stores in my neck of the woods was sold out and I just had to have it. It's the perfect size, pre-lit and the fact it was forty-freaking-dollars didn't hurt either, considering it was my first Christmas alone, in a new house.

For years my tree remained with it's original ornaments. Purchased from Walmart when I was 19 (don't do the math), it began with red and blue ornaments. Over time I kept the blue, got rid of the red (which means they're in my basement, collecting dust) and added some white ones (and by 'some' I mean six... two of which have since met their demise). It's always been pretty but this year it looked old. And bare (although I swear trees always look much more bare in photos than they actually are). It was time for a change:



And so, this year, I decorated twice (because why would I decide to change the tree until after I had already decorated it?!?). It was done on a whim, really, as I found a pink snowflake that I absolutely loved. I figured this was the perfect opportunity to make good use of my singledom and go with a girlie tree. I bought as many decorations I could find that matched but at first I was disappointed. It, again, looked bare:


But yesterday I was on the hunt for an elusive gift (which I have still yet to find) when I stopped in at a nursery (the plant, not the baby, kind) and they had a tree setup with my exact color scheme... and an employee my age who was over-the-moon excited to help me with my tree, given the fact she had decorated hers in the same colors. $160 later (I know, I know... ouch! But I like to think of it in terms of cost per year. My last set of ornaments lasted 14 years and cost me probably $60... so I figure these will last me roughly 42 years) I walked out wondering how so much money could fit into a single bag and possibly make a difference to the tree. But what a difference it did make! I like to think it looks like a showroom tree- the kind everyone thinks looks nice in the store but never have in their home because their tree is a conglomerate of ornaments collected over the years as a family. Instead of a mish-mosh of beautiful memories and school-made crafts I have a tree that is matchy-matchy. And I love it!




There are now flowers, leaves and feathers (all covered in glitter, of course), stuck in branches every which way, all things I never would have considered 5 years ago. There are ornaments that look like sea urchins (covered in glitter, of course), snow globes and disco balls (in both pink and silver). All covered in glitter, of course:


And speaking of glitter... after it was all said and done I was covered in glitter for the remainder of the day and despite the fact there are only so many vampire jokes a person can make... and only so many people (usually of the soccer mom variety) that get them... I took full advantage of the situation. Besides, it was kind of pretty when I sneezed out sparkles:


And it's all at the hand of the ornament that started it all:



And the fact I have a tad more spendable monies than I did when I was 19.

TGI(V)F:: There's An App for That!

Some people really shouldn't be allowed to video themselves. And by 'some people' I, of course, mean me. I had every intention of editing this (ie. remvoing any sections that was not complimentary so, bascially, all of them) but, let's be honest, I'm kind of lazy.



And this is the end result. Definitely worth the 8 minutes of video right? RIGHT?!?!?

Secret Santa

I normally don't blog about other people. My general feeling is it's not my place to put other people's stories online for all the world to see. So when I do write a story that involves someone else I tend to get their permission first. But tonight I make an exception to the rule. It only seems to make sense, given the fact I wouldn't know who to ask anyway.

Last year was the first Christmas I spent alone. It had been only a month since I cut ties with my parents and I was torn: I looked forward to a Christmas that was stress-free but I felt guilty in my decision and, I'm not going to lie, it was kind of sad to not have presents to look forward to. And I don't just mean the getting (although I'd be lying if I said I don't miss the anticipation, guessing and opening of presents), I also mean the giving. I've heard people say "it's just another day" but it's not until it is just another day does a person realize that, no, it's actually not. It's a day, just the same, but when it passes without fanfare I kind of feel like I've missed out. I keep telling myself I'm not owed anything and that the meaning of the day hasn't changed but let's be realistic... every Christmas and Birthday that passes by without presents, stockings, Turkey, or cake is one that I'll never get back. And, yes, that kind of bums me out.

So when last Christmas arrived I did what I normally do on a particularly difficult day... I stayed in bed. Imagine my delight (and brief hesitation) when the door rang and it was a friend and her son, delivering me a beautiful wreath and letting me know that I'm not alone, not just on that day but any day.

And so I knew this year would be different. Better. I'd be more prepared. I'd know that just because I was alone wouldn't mean I wasn't loved. And that I would only spend part of the day in bed, not all of it. But it would be done staying warm and cozy, instead of sad and depressed. And my only tinge of sadness would be that I would have not a single present to open and that everyone from the poor to the rich, whether it be a child or adult, surrounded by people or alone, should have a present to open on Christmas and their birthday. Even if just one.

But I didn't get a chance to get that far. Because two weeks ago I did what I normally do when I get home from work: I walked to the front of the house, jacket still on, and opened the door to get the mail. And there, much to my delight, was a present. Wrapped in paper with ribbon that shone beneath the lights of my Christmas tree.

A present for Christmas!

And there it sat. A corner of the paper had lifted, due to being out in the cold, and I was careful to tape it back in place, without peeking, determined that I would have something to unwrap on Christmas morning. But I did peek at the card, in between shakes and guesses, only to see it signed 'Love your Secret Santa'.

And under my tree it remained. A solitary gift. Waiting. A day passed. Then two. Then seven. Until the day I came home from work, jacket still on, and went to get the mail. And found another gift! Another present to open on Christmas morning could only mean one thing... surely I could open the one I had already received. And so I did. Good thing, too, as advent calendars tend to loose their meaning after the 25th of December, although I did enjoy 'having' to catch up by eating 6 chocolates in one day.

It's been 3 weeks and 3 gifts now. Two of which I've opened and one of which I've saved. After all, I don't want to be presumptuous and assume such graciousness will continue so there remains a present under the tree. Ready and waiting. Just in case. And should this be the only gift I have to open, so be it. Because this Christmas it's not about the gifts. It's about the Christmas cards, photos and music (I got a cd of Christmas music today that plays for the very first time as I write this in front of both the tree and the fire) that come each day, the invitations I've received to join the families of others for the holidays and the love I feel each and every day.

And so, Secret Santa, thank you. Whomever you are. For not just the gifts but for the fact you could be anyone and, because of that, you are, truly, everyone. I am so overwhelmed, so often, by the kindness of others. From the kind words of people that I've met only once and live thousands of miles away who have a knack to say exactly what I need to hear at the exact moment I need to hear it, to the simple everyday actions of those who live close that remind me to not take any of it for granted, to gifts left on a doorstep that are so much more than gifts. It makes me want to pay it forward, be a better person and prove to the world that I'm even minutely deserving of the things and people I've been so fortunate to be blessed with.

When I decided, last year, that I'd rather spend Christmas alone I had absolutely no idea that I wouldn't have to.

It's amazing how things have a way of working out like that.

Don't Litter

I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking when I thought it would be a good idea to purchase the economy-sized cat litter that weighs 18 kilograms but I know I definitely didn't consider navigating snow drifts and ice slicks. Needless to say, 2 wet socks and a sore back later, the litter has been changed.

Speaking of litter, I think I'll get my cat a new litter box for Christmas. I imagine this must be to felines what clothes are to children because I'm pretty sure it's more of a present to myself than my cat.

On the same selfish note, I'm also wanting to buy her one of these: a furry friend for her to cuddle up on while she spends her (entire) day watching out the window... and avoids laying on my purple duvet, leaving a plethora of cat hair in her wake.

Needless to say, my Christmas shopping is off to a slow start. So far the only I've picked up is some clothing... for small children. Why have a toy when you can wear your present?!?

You're welcome, children. You're Welcome.

This Little Piggy

Tonight the phone rang. As I said hello I was met with the sounds of a 3 year old little girl who, between sniffles, managed to say "I hurt my toe".

My friend's daughter. She stubbed her toe on the bathroom door and the first words out of her mouth? She wanted me to come over. And if it hadn't been for the freezing rain and the fact they live an hour away, I would've been there in a heartbeat. Because how special is that? To be the first thought when a little one has an owie? For hugs and cuddles. Tickles and giggles.

But, alas, a phone call had to suffice. We spoke of band-aids, butterflies and boo-boos. And I assured her that her toe would not, in fact, fall off. We then spoke of penguins and parties, sleep overs and pajamas and, before long, the toe was old news.

It's nice to know that whether it's a birthday or a run-in with a bathroom door I'm included and thought of. To play hide and seek, giggle through a song or two of Just Dance or just to color and cuddle. If I can be there to help blow out candles or dry tears it is an absolute honor. Because just when I seem to have a moment where I feel unloved I'm reminded that I am, in fact, loved in ways that are far more amazing and fulfilling than I could ever have hoped for. And that I am, in fact, lucky.

After all, I may not have kids... but I have little ones to love, just the same.

It's Time

I've tried very hard today. To keep my perspective. To remind myself of how truly lucky I am and how grateful I should be. Sure, I may have had a stressful day and a hard week but I know I'm partially to blame. I'm not the world's best employee and I need to take responsibility for that, instead of laying blame on everyone else. I've tried to remember that this is what I'm being paid for. Increased pay for increased responsibility. And all the 'joy' that comes along with that. I'm trying to feel grateful, really I am. I know that I'm lucky, it's just so easy to forget. To long for something better. To not see the forest for the trees.

I need to take a step back.

Every once in a while something hits me that reminds me of how much worse things could be. Today that was Elisabeth Edwards. I don't really follow American politics but what I do know about her is simply this: she was a mother of four, an inspiration to many and a victim of a horrible disease that she fought with so much more dignity and bravery than I attempt to handle the struggles in my life that pale in comparison. On Saturday I had another gallstone attack... I should be grateful that my pain is brief and curable. Today I uttered the words "I hate my life"... when I should be glad simply to be alive when so many lives are cut short. It seems wrong to be filled with so much sadness and frustration over a job that is stressing me out when I know, deep down, it's not important. Elisabeth continued campaigning and speaking when she knew she was running out of time... it seems selfish of me to sit idly by, taking time for granted. What would she have to say if she saw my life, knowing I got to live and she didn't? Would she think it's unfair? Don't I owe it to people like her to at least 'do' something to make the life I live worthwhile?

Another year has passed. A whole entire year. What have I done? I have sat by and silently hoped what I have hoped for the past five years... that this year will be different. But has it? Have I done anything significant? Substantial? Note-worthy? Or has it been just another year?

I don't know where they keep going, the years. They pass by too quickly. I can't seem to get my bearings. I keep telling myself I'll make a change but I use time as my excuse. I need time to fix up my house, sell my motorcycle, figure out where I belong, pack up my things, get a visa, find a job. I view each as a stepping stone towards something bigger and greater... but I never get there. I'm too busy passing time and, before I know it, all the time I thought I had is gone.

I need to slow down but I can't.

Because I'm too busy wasting time.

How do I stop?

Questionable

I've been thinking a lot lately. About what I want. In a career. In a car. In a home. In a vacation. In a life.

It can be overwhelming, at times, to think of all these things. The things that consume my mind and keep me up at night. I wonder what decisions are the right ones... terrified to make any, lest they be the wrong ones.

There are so many things I don't know. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Where I should live, what I should do. When I wonder about all the things that are uncertain there is only one thing I know for sure. That of all the things I wonder and question the one thing I know to be true about what I want in life can be summed up in eleven simple words:

I don't want to live the rest of my life alone.

Picture This

While synching my iPhone tonight and waiting (cough-2 hours-cough) to download OS 4.2 I browsed some of the photos I've taken in the past little while. Here are just a few:

I love these angel cats or, as I like to call them, ca-tangles. I don't particularly understand them. All I know is I want one of them. I shall name him Oliver.


I'm not a huge fan of candied apples. I think they're nothing more than a healthy snack in disguise. But these? Super cute. I like the reindeer. I shall name him Oliver.


I didn't buy one of these but I really, really wanted to. The skor one. I shall name him Oliver.


This is the amount of snow on my bistro set. Correction, this is how much snow was on my bistro set because this picture was taken a week ago. There's more now.


I've had a crack in my kitchen wall for years. It comes with the territory when living in a 100 year old home with plaster walls. I've been meaning to fix it and actually got close to fixing it a couple times in the past month (that means I almost got off the couch, but managed to find restraint). But on a particularly cold day the house must have shifted and sometime between getting home from work and coming upstairs from doing laundry the crack had heaved. Needless to say, I'm looking at hiring a contractor to fix the wall, in addition to some other things around the house I've put off and ignored because, this? Is pretty gosh darn hard to ignore?


I found this sign to be very informative. Because I was *so* confused. I mean, all this time... who knew?!?


This is the Worst. Sale. Ever.



I love my new jacket. Even if I purchased it because I forgot my old jacket somewhere after a few too many wonky pops. Truth be known, I was kind of wanting a new jacket anyway and considering I lost my jacket at the hand of one of such a wonderful, fun evening I'd say it was a win-win situation:


And, lastly, I saw this cabinet at HomeSense. Tweeted that I loved it. Pondered it. Deemed it a frivolous purchase and went home, where I proceed to think about it all night long, knowing I'd regret and wonder about it for a long time to come (similar to some purple chairs I saw there many months ago that I still kick myself over). So I took some measurements to ensure I actually had a place for said cabinet (although I'm sure I would have found a place, regardless), hopped in the car, went back to the store... and bought the cabinet. I plan to pick it up on Saturday. More pictures to follow, I'm sure. Of not just the cabinet but other things too. Like flying felines, sub-zero scenery and toggled toilet taps.