9 Months, 40 Years, and a Few Days Ago

When do I start feeling my age? How do I measure the passing of my time outside of rotations on axis and revolutions around a bright, gaseous bulb?

The typical body aches more. The aging and unfortunate mind jades. Yes. All of these things and more.

40 years feels like a strong and delicate place at the same time. It feels both central and fringe. I hear a voice in my head telling me to “unpack those statements” to which another voice replies, “no, you’re at work and break is over.”

First voice responds, “Really? You’re a government employee! Does your break ever end?”

“Burn.” Replies voice number two.

Moving on. . .

Is 40 the hub of life? I don’t know.

30 felt pretty central. Even 20 had hubbish hues.

I’ve just banked a solid 20 years of quasi-adult experiences! The memories are the interest. The regrets, (yes, a few) crashes and unfortunate investments from which I hope I have learned.

What have I learned? <insert clichés here>

I might only know what 40 means to me after I have had time to reflect upon it. At 50, perhaps.

Van Gone: Beginners for French Update.

Beginners for French is a bust!  Apparently there are not enough beginners to hold a class this working semester.  Really?  Mon Dieu!

I’m okay.  I’ve moved on.  French is replaceable (e.g. if I take French out of French Fries, I still have fries).  Step off, French.  There will be paint!

I am soon to begin a water colour painting class (for beginners)!  Is this a skill I can really learn?  My skepticism runs deep.  Will painting foster an insanity in me; bring water to a deeply planted seed?  All my appendages are currently intact and I have painted every room in my home.  This has to count for something.

Painting will be my new and more universal language.  My sarcasm will now surface in colour, style and content.  I’ll see a red door and I may just paint it midnight black.  It will all depend on the day now won’t it. . .

All things silly aside, check out the Anna Templeton Centre and see if there is a class in arting or crafting that might appeal to you. J

Do you miss 2012 yet?

I’m not an overly nostalgic girl.  I embrace the new, but can admit to missing a few things.  In 30 seconds, these four items fell off memory lane and onto my page as little things I remember enjoying but haven’t experienced for some time:

1. Video Rental Stores.  I’ve never seen Last of the Mohicans but I bet in 50 years some Kevin Smith type might write a little flick called Last of the Video Hos.  Less violent (perhaps).  Do I thoroughly enjoy access to films through online resources?  Yes.  I still miss finding a gem of a foreign film on the bottom row in the back corner of the video store though.
2. Liner Notes and Cover Art on music albums and CDs.  I’m sure some bands still bother.  I wouldn’t really know as I haven’t bought an album or CD in some time.  Even if you don’t like The Grateful Dead and cannot name one of their songs – I know you know the art.

I loved reading the “thank-you” and “guest musicians” sections inside album and CD inserts.  Imagine the excitement this big Banshee fan experienced as I read the liner notes of a friend’s copy of the Indigio Girls CD Rites of Passage within which a thank you was given to Siouxsie and her Banshees!

3. Phone Cords.  Do I enjoy the freedom of the cordless and cell?  O yes.  But with a hint of nostalgia I remember the attention one had to give the caller on the other line when you were pinned to the end of the sofa whirling the curly cord between your fingers and doodling on the phone book.  (This reminds me that I miss kind, but silly prank phone calls too).
4. Tax Free Loose Candy.  I swear I still remember the day I went to Marie’s Mini Mart with a dollar and asked for 100 penny candy and was told I needed $1.19 to pay for them.  What?!  It had to infuriate the cashiers to no end to have to constantly answer life’s newest and most important question, “I have 60 cents.  How many one-cent candy can I get with that?”

O dear.  Hello 2013! J

Beginners for French!

In an effort to be a better Canadian and public servant, I have registered for a French Language Training program offered through my employer.  That’s how my application reads anyway.

In truth, I wonder how long it will take to become moderately proficient in the exercise of sarcasm in a second language.  Do the French even “do” sarcasm?   I’ll keep you posted.

If nothing else, a rudimentary grasp of French will remove that sense of frustration I often feel when trying to find the English ingredient list, or cooking instruction on food I am looking to buy or prepare.  No more cursing at the boxes and cans as they tumble through my hands as I seek answer to the question, “Is there meat in this soup?”

Sans meat!  Sans meat! I will read (or something like that) and I will reflect on the usefulness of my budding bilingualism.

I’ll visit my friends in Montreal and this time when the guy I accidently bump on the Metro says, “F*ck you!”  I will respond, “F*ck you, aussi!”

That’s what it’s all about isn’t it?  Growing understanding.  Tearing down those walls of miscommunication one brick at a time. . .

Exercising Ignorance: Muskrat Falls and Me

To date I have not read a single article or column inch on the controversial Muskrat Falls development proposal.   I am not proud of my ignorance or crippled with shame.  I promise to learn more.  In the meantime. . .

My ears have been christened with chatter of The Falls.  This has to count for something.  I have heard it spoken of amongst co-workers.  On my brief morning and evening commutes to and from the office I listen to CBC Radio 1 and hear, again, the chatter.

Based on these subjective and non-scientific sources, here is what I think I know:

It’s sure going to cost a lot!

Here is what I feel I do know (Muskrat Falls or not):

the people who can afford their monthly electricity bill now will be able to afford it then;

the people who find it difficult to manage their monthly electricity bill now will find it difficult to manage it then;

the people who cannot afford electricity now will not be able to afford it then.

                                                    ***

There is room for error in the above conclusions.  There will be some movement between and within categories.  For example, some of the people who cannot afford electricity now will be dead then.  Death by hypothermia perhaps. . .

AARH - The Concept of "Stuff"

Two households, both alike in . . . some ways, in “the fair hood” where I lay this scene. . .

Blending independent adult lives into one home step 1:

AARH - The Concept of “Stuff”

i.)                  Accept that you both have stuff.  A whole lotta stuff.  Some of the stuff is alive with four legs and weighs in at over 100 pounds.  Add another one just to see what happens!  Living stuff should have its own post in the future (see future post).

ii.)                 Assess your stuff.  Is that stuff as important as the space that it occupies?  Probably not.  Garbage, donation, bonfire, for sale, box in the basement (last resort)?  These are your options.  Choose wisely.  May the stuff be with (or without) you.

iii.)               Respect that their stuff is as important to them as your stuff is to you (even if that six-inch candle with its googly-eyed face gives you the heebie-geebies each time you walk into its room).   Embrace its story of origin and significance.  Seek therapy.

iv.)               Hide bits of their stuff.  If they don’t miss it in a few months consider your disposal options.

These points may help you as they have helped me, in my transition into shared home coupledom.  Remember:  love the stuffer, hate the stuff. :)

To be continued. . .