Archive for March 2014

Thank you but I don’t need a break   41 comments

 

Just now, I threw another ball into the air. At this point I think the current number of balls I am juggling is about 3,978, give or take (margin of error on this number is directly proportionate to my propensity to exaggerate). Suffice it say there are professional clowns that are envious of my mad skills.

This week was beyond busy, and next week is shaping up to be just as bad. My To Do List is so extensive that I am experiencing carpal tunnel symptoms just writing it all down. Every time I check something off, I think of no less than three more things to add. Then my phone will ring, or an email will pop up, then I’ll get a text and someone will comment on my Facebook status and and and …

I know I am not the only person experiencing these challenges. I see the looks of quiet desperation on people’s faces when they are forced to wait longer than 2 minutes at the Tim Hortons drive thru. We might actually need to reassess our lives when we don’t have time to wait for coffee.

What are we trying to prove? We will never finish it. It’s a fools errand … Which reminds me, I have to pick up my dry cleaning and a new notepad so I can write more Lists.

Have you ever seen the hamster on the wheel chasing the cheese and never catching it? That’s me. Just a crazed animal, furiously chasing the ever elusive achievement of being finished … The List. Really, at this point I would be happy just to finish writing it; then at least I could get down to the ‘doing’ part of the exercise. Great, I forgot to write down exercise … I wonder, is extreme writing considered cardio? It’s times like this that having ADD can be both a curse and a blessing.

Squirrel.

So how do I cope? I used to say things like, “I just need a break.” I don’t anymore. Why, you ask?

It was about this time, 9 years ago. I was feeling so overwhelmed that all I ever seemed to say was,”I need a break.” I practically started and ended every sentence with those 5 words. Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘be careful what you wish for?’ The universe listens, and it thinks itself very funny. You see, as I was drowning in things I needed to do, and was calling out for a 5 minute timeout to pause and reflect, I was given just that.

I fell down the stairs and broke my back.
So I got the break I was looking for, with the added bonus of a literal break. I never ask for breaks anymore. Not a coffee break, a break in traffic, a spring break or even a commercial break.
I don’t even like to talk about checking my brakes; I just do this crazy little wordless play indicating to my mechanic he should check them. Thank goodness he gets me now, because I’m not going to lie, the first time I did this, I failed to properly communicate my needs. That led to a few awkward moments where the possibility of a restraining order may or may not have been discussed.

So now, I just ask for what I actually want; a vacation on a sunny beach in the Caribbean. So far, the universe has been pretty stingy handing those out; probably because this lacks the comedic irony it yearns for.

So where’s the ‘Ah Ha!’ moment of my story, the epiphany, the witty conclusion that ties this mad rant up in a nice bow and leaves you, the reader, feeling that all is well? To be honest, I don’t actually know. I do know that it was undoubtedly freaking brilliant. You would have been so impressed. It might have changed the very fabric of your existence. Sadly, I wrote it down on one of The Lists and proceeded to put it in a safe place so I wouldn’t lose it. We all know how that story always ends.

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Posted March 31, 2014 by janyceresh in Breaks, Do it yourself, family, Humour, Uncategorized

If the truth hurts it’s probably a conspiracy.   31 comments

 

There is an evil imp running amok in my home and, while I’ve never actually seen him, I know exactly when he’s been around. I believe he works at night and probably has other ne’er-do-well imps assisting him.  I’m sure he thinks he is amusing.  He is wrong.  The shenanigans he and his fellow miscreants get up to are both cruel and self-esteem-crushing.

What does he do you ask? Well I’ll tell you.

He has been slowly shrinking my pants and other articles of clothing that, only 6 months ago, fit me perfectly.  I think he has a little sewing kit; he sneaks into my closet at night and makes minor adjustments to the waistbands of my trousers.  Nothing too noticeable at first, just a nip here and a tuck there. He is obviously all about the long con.

It’s not just my clothes he’s been sabotaging either.  He has also managed to have all the bathroom scales set 15 pounds heavier.  How he does that is beyond me.  Clearly he has a background in engineering.  Or maybe he is invisible and stands behind me with a foot on the scale while I’m on it.  I really wouldn’t put anything past him.

 

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Now, how he manipulates my mirrored reflection is beyond me. When I’m standing in front of it, it actually looks as if I’m slightly more robust than I used to be.  Maybe he was once employed at a carnival and was in charge of the House of Mirrors.  It makes sense; I’ve been in those places and they can make anyone look like they follow a strict diet of Ding Dongs, burgers and Big Gulp sodas.

Why is he picking on me, though?  What did I do to deserve such a blatant attack on my self-esteem?  I’m a good person.

I support local charities.  Why, just last week the girl guides came to my door and I bought 8 cases of their thin mint cookies. Not sure what became of them, though. I saw the boxes in the trash a few days later. Maybe the little imps got hungry and helped themselves to my stash.  I certainly couldn’t have consumed them all by myself, and I was the only one who knew where they were.

I am also doing my part to lower my carbon footprint. I used to work out regularly, which caused me to breathe harder and with more frequency. Recognizing that my increased out flow of carbon dioxide could potentially have a negative effect on our already fragile eco-system, I have sacrificed my exercise program for the greater good.  Don’t quote me on the science; I don’t claim to be an expert. I’m just one person trying to make a difference on this great blue marble we call Earth.  It takes a village, people.

Now while I cannot prove with absolute certainty that these imps exist, and that they have been slowly but surely wreaking their havoc on my existence, I have come to a decision which could prove to be quite lucrative. I’m going to start a home-based business. I will provide overnight clothing alterations for a nominal fee.  I’ll hang them up in my closet and put the little scamps to work for me instead of against me.  That will teach them to mess with an entrepreneur.

I have to run; pizza’s here and I have to make sure they didn’t forget the extra cheese. Did I mention how I support local businesses?

 

 

Posted March 20, 2014 by janyceresh in family, fitness, Humour, parenting, Uncategorized, Weight

I’d like to report a crime   26 comments

 

 

Somebody call 911!  I’ve been robbed of an hour of my life, and I want it back!  Apparently, a thief slipped into my house last Saturday night while I slumbered and took it upon itself to steal my time.  At first, I thought the batteries in my clock been removed to power an Xbox remote. In our home, good batteries are almost as rare as unicorns and full jugs of milk.  Upon closer inspection though, I noticed that the hands on the clock were still moving but did not reflect the same time as my other devices.

 

This was shaping up to be a real Scooby Doo mystery, and I was becoming increasing perplexed.  I decided to turn on CNN and see what it said because everyone knows television doesn’t lie.  My mouth fell open in shock as the heinous truth was revealed to me.  It was one hour later than it should have been.  I often think I’m on borrowed time and for someone to just walk right into my life and help themselves to 60 whole minutes ….well suffice it to say it was a devastating blow.

 

This isn’t the first time he’s attacked, and apparently I am not his only victim. I find this act of treachery unconscionable. Time is precious to humans. We never have enough hours in a day as it is and to have one arbitrarily cease to exist is completely unacceptable.

 

There is no telling what I could have done with that hour, what I could have accomplished.  I might have solved the mysteries of the universe or at the very least figured out the Caramilk secret.  It was definitely the hour I planned to go to the gym, and now I’ve lost the momentum. Thanks to him I will be shame spiraling at the beach all summer.  

 

I’ve been running late all week thanks to this criminal.  I could have received a speeding ticket trying to make up for lost time.  And try explaining that to a police officer, I dare you.

 

“I’m sorry officer. I left my house at 2 am and somehow a mere 60 seconds later it was 3am.  Is this a radar trap or a worm hole through time? “

 

At best you’re going to receive a sobriety test and at worst be held on 72-hour psyche evaluation.  This thief could potentially have you serving time for a crime that he himself committed.  Diabolical that’s what he is…

 

 

The sad reality is we know who he is and when he strikes, but the authorities are powerless to stop him. He goes by the name Daylight Savings Time, and his crimes go back almost a hundred years.

 

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Posted March 15, 2014 by janyceresh in Uncategorized

Death of a Dishwasher   39 comments

Recently, my dishwasher passed away. We held a small funeral; immediate family members only. It was a sad day, but as I’m not one to dwell, I put on my big girl pants and started shopping for a replacement. Sounds callous, I know, but I think wherever old Dishy Mcdisherson is, she understands.

It didn’t take long to find the “one”. She was perfect. Gleaming stainless steel with a heavy load capacity. She even had a food disposer, which is great for us because my children think pre-scraping is something that happens right before they start a fight with one another.

I was in love, or at the very least, willing to stop seeing other dishwashers.

I purchased her and brought her to her new forever home. Weird how I refer to her as a her . . . Perhaps because doing the dishes is a woman’s job . . . Said no woman ever. I just put that in there to see if you were paying attention.

Anyhow, back to my story.

I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to have her moved in so she could begin making my dishes sparkle and my silverware shine. I called my husband and told him to strap on his work belt, charge up his power tools and channel his inner handyman.

When I arrived home my hubby and I brought her in and carefully carried her up the stairs and into our kitchen. I should qualify the word “carefully”. We may have hit a wall or two on the way up, which will probably require a smidge or so of dry wall repair and a dab of paint but luckily, she came through unscathed.

At that point, feeling I had done my part, I left to share the big news with my Facebook friends. Just as I was about to send my exciting status update, however, I heard my husband express himself in the most colourful way. Judging by his tone and his preference for words that rhyme “truck “and “spit”, I immediately knew that something was amiss.

I called out, asked him what was the matter. He then said three words to me that I will never forget.

“It doesn’t fit.” Just like me in high school, she was too tall.

I couldn’t believe it. How was this possible? I had done all the research, asked all the right questions. I had even stared into the salesman’s eyes and asked him “is that your best price?” This situation was unacceptable. I told my husband to take the wheels off and any other non-essential parts; make it fit. Sadly, he had already thought of that.

So I walked away. I needed time to think and my husband was starting to become poor company to be around. It wasn’t five minutes later that I heard the sound. It didn’t make sense at first; it was just this loud buzzing and grinding noise.

I followed the sound into the kitchen and it was there I found the source. My husband was wielding a jigsaw like Jason from Friday the 13th, minus the hockey mask. It seemed that he had concluded, in his infinite wisdom, to cut our kitchen counter in half and slide her into place. When I asked him how he had come to this decision he said “it didn’t fit…so I made it fit.” While I did argue the method I really couldn’t fight the simplicity of his logic.

So what began as an innocent quest for cleaner dishes ended up as a rather extensive and expensive kitchen renovation.

You might be wondering what the moral of this story is, and that, my friends, is surprisingly simple.

Measure twice ….cut NEVER!!!

 

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