How do you know your marriage will last?

No one really knows for sure....it is what you make it.  Love each other for who you are, and as you and your spouse evolve continue the tradition of love.  Trust and respect are huge factors as well.  People have made billions of dollars over the years trying to explain women to men, then explain men to women, to teach love and respect....blah, blah, blah.  I'm not going to get up on the soap box and tell you how to hang on to your mate.  Everyone is different....some are more DIFFERENT than others.............
But, if you must have a tangible test of the longevity of a marriage....renovate your kitchen.  Not with hired help.  Not while you are on vacation.  Not with a giant group of friends.  Do it together from start to finish.
In the beginning (just like young love) it's fun, you have plans, it's exciting, you have money to spend.  You dream together and marvel at how wonderful it is to have the opportunity to spend such quality time together.  And really, tearing things apart with crowbars and stuff is damn fun....and what a stress reliever. Phase one will be great.  Then you have the discovery phase.  All the stuff you feared is now exposed.  You didn't plan for new wiring or new plumbing.  The honeymoon is over.  You are both right, and you are both wrong; just not at the same time.  Plans are changing.  Things are starting to go awry.  The whole project takes a lot more time, energy, money and patience than anyone had every expected.  This whole "quality time" crap is just that...crap.  Like really, who needs to spend that much time together??? After a while, you come to accept things for what they are.  Plans change all the time, you have to roll with the punches.  The project begins to mature, and it starts to look like the original plan.  This sets your heart a pitter-patter.  Could this be love?  Is this the way its supposed to be.  Then the bills start arriving.  You are way over budget, way over.  Anger sets in.  Who needed a new damn kitchen anyway?  Now we have a half finished room with a tonne of bills and no end in sight.  You quietly continue on; seething, but smiling on the surface because you are supposed to be happy about the new damn room.
In an attempt to finish the job - the reveal party date is set.  (this would be the marriage counsellor part - do or die).  The push is on, the job gets done.  All the tension is gone.  It was worth it.  We stand back together and marvel at our accomplishment; while in our heads counting how many times we each would have loved to have walked out the door and never returned.
And here today, the day after - we lie on separate sofas - hungover - yet in love with each other and the new baby we created - OUR KITCHEN.

Have you ever lost a tampon?

Yes, of course I have.  I don't know how many times I've gone to the grocery store, bought a box or two....then aunt "flo" arrives and guess what?? no damn tampons.   And, I usually have a couple in my purse that get lost in the mess within or strewn about the store floor when I haul out my wallet.  I have definitely lost some at work...I swear my co-workers eat them.
Then she says "not THAT type of lost, I mean really LOST a tampon".  Say what?  Lost?  You mean "up there" LOST???  Really, if this was me...this tidbit of information would NEVER leave my lips...this would be a take to the grave event.....like really FAWK a tampon LOST in the......ugh.
I politely respond "no, can't say that I have.  Are you sure you lost it?"  She assures me that she is certain that it's lost.
So, me being me; I offer some advice.  Did you feel around for it?  She did, no luck.  Did you look for it, with a mirror.  She did, no luck.  Did she use another one?  She did, didn't hurt.  I suggested that there was nothing to worry about.  But she is still worried.  So I said how about a queef?  did you try that?  She looks at me disbelievingly....a queef??? I say yeah, a vaginal fart....blow it out.  I got "the look".
I tell her she should see a medical professional; that I am not willing to take a look for her.  She said she saw the doc last time it happened.  LAST TIME?????????????? wtf????  How does this happen???? OMG
It seems the problem was brand specific.  It turns out tampons are like mac & cheese, ketchup, and toilet paper.....get the brand name; it's not worth it otherwise.

It's not you, it's me.........

Since we are already on the subject of teenage dating.....
I was 'seeing' this guy for a few weeks.   We would go to hockey games, go for drives, hang out at the "hallow" and go sliding.  Typical kid things.  As I mentioned earlier, dating was an "issue" at best in our house.  I could never admit that I was actually dating someone, but I knew I had to hang onto this one for a while.  As it was, I was sure I was the only kid in junior high that hadn't been kissed.  I was bound and determined to get a kiss before moving on to Mount Olympus (aka High school).  Really???  Can you just imagine???  At 15 - this was a world ending issue.
So, it's about to happen. We had plans.  Nice, quiet, romantic, PLANS.  I knew it was going to happen.  I was finally going to get my first kiss.  I went over to his place. (or to the movies as my parents thought) We cuddled up on the sofa to watch a movie.  As we watched the movie, I was starting to panic.  The KISS was inevitable.  He moved toward me.  I stayed where I was.  He moved in closer.  I am panicking....Bad at this point.  He moves in a little closer.....it's going to happen, we are almost at the point of no return.....I finally put my head up and turn it towards him.....we are moving in even closer when I notice IT.  A booger.  A BOOGER....a big green, round gross booger hanging off of the side of his left nostril.  I jump back; ready to barf...and say "I gotta go".  He is upset.  I am totally unable to tell the truth.  I apologize and tell him that I can't see him anymore.  He wants to know why.  I tell him "it's not you, it's me...." which was partially true. I ran all the way home.

He asked me for years why.....and until today I have never told him the truth....I wonder if he reads my Blog?

I did get my first kiss before high school.....the day before...the last day of summer vacation...whew! That was close.

When can I date?

Never!  It's dangerous.  I was never allowed to date.  Well actually, the rule was; I was never allowed to date exclusively.  Looking back, my parents were pretty smart - they allowed me to date but never long enough to get past first base.  Those sneaky buggers....

One group of boys that I was definitely NOT allowed to date were the "base kids".  Coming from a small town, when someone new comes in they just seems so intriguing.  But no, "those kids are too worldly".  And they probably were, but some of them were really cute.  Like this one in particular who happened to be a year younger than me. (I know, I was naughty).  I asked if I could bike out to the Base to play tennis.  I was allowed! heeheehee.  I biked the 13kms to get to my destination to meet him at the tennis courts as planned.  He was so cute.  I was sweaty.  We started to play our game of tennis while chatting about whatever 14 year old chat about.  It was then realized that just because I am an athlete, it does not make me good at every sport.  Particularly tennis.  I must've hit the ball over the 12foot fence 10 times.  He climmbed up the fence, jumped off the other side, retrieved it, and we continued.  I did it again, the ball was gone.  I laughed and said "I'll get it this time".  Really, how hard can it be to climb a fence?  I can show that cute boy from Ontario that I am just as agile as him.  Up I go.......whew...hard work.  I flip my leg over the top, haul myself up with my arms, then flip the other leg.  I sit my butt down just for a sec to cathc my breath and look down.....wow.....12 feet! I jump.  I hang.  I continue to hang.  I have the worst wedgie ever known to man.  I hang.  My new red Champion shorts are ripping at the seams.....I fall.  I landed on the ground.  Did I mention that it was around 2:00 in the afternoon in one of the busiest areas around?  I stand up.  Wearing only my bra and panties.  The shorts ripped at the crotch, went up over my torso hauling off my t-shirt as it went.  I am MORTIFIED!  I climb back up the fence to retrieve my clothing that is at the top of the fence.  I grab and jump, but the tattered things back on, then look around.  My DATE has disappeared.  The old men drinkg coffee nearby are bustin a gut.  I'm dying of humilation.  I jump on my bike with my new red....skirt...and bike home.  The folks ask "how was tennis"....I say it's not for me.
So my darling daughter...can you date?  NO....it nothing but trouble.  It causes you to lie, see things about yourself you did not know, and before you know it your clothes will be off.  NO!!!!!!

My hat is off to you......

So, I went to yoga tonight.  I never went to yoga before.  I remember as a child watching my father on the living room floor doing these wild, circus performer contortions.  I later understood that this was "yoga".  I recall thinking why would someone do that to themselves?  To knowingly and wilfully put yourself into positions that make you look daft, not to mention the risk you are taking - what if you get stuck?????  Really, this was one of the traumatic times of my childhood....oh gawd, the Lion pose....ugh....I had nightmares for years.

So this New Year's I decided that I would dedicate this year to "me".  To take more time to exercise, to spend more time with friends, to get out of the house for something other than groceries.  I have joined a couple of groups and clubs.  But YOGA has been calling my name.  Maybe it's the childhood thing resurfacing, maybe it's the tight, fit yoga bodies we see all over the place and the hope that it just might be attainable.  Who knows why?  But I did it.  I went tonight.  It is much harder than it looks. The instructor was incredible, he knew his stuff, his voice was pleasant and relaxing.  I tried to follow along.  I did this pose, that pose, stretched here and stretched there.  Then we did breathing exercises.  Everyone had their eyes closed, not me....I'm way to nosy for that.  THAT was just gross!!!  The amount of snot flying around the room from all of the yogic breathers was insane.....THAT is why you keep your eyes closed.  I recovered from that....

We then did some sun and moon stuff, I was very far out of my league.  About 4 steps behind the whole time.  But I did feel the burn.  Then we were directed to the floor on our backs.  Laying there, staring at the ceiling, breathing as directed; I totally enjoyed the silence.  Such peace.  I haven't been that relaxed in years. We start our next pose, legs up then legs down legs up then leg down breath legs up breath FART OMG the guy next be me broke wind.  I lost it.  The room of total silence destroyed.  It took me 6 minutes to stop laughing.  I was quiet, but must have been disruptive.
So I finally get my shit together enough to continue.  We are on to shoulder stands and pikes at this point.  The lovely girl next to me, who also happens to be my daughter, gets into a fantastic shoulder stand.  She is holding it well and for a long time.  I am still trying to get my fat ass up in the air when I hear THUD, CRASH Giggle.....she wiped out.  I lost it .... again.
It was at that point that I quietly rolled up my mat and tip toed out of the room.  I am far to immature for yoga.  I will try again.  Alone.  The way that sport is intended to be!

You want me to do what????????????

"Take everything off down to your pants and put this on, then go to door number 3".  I nod, take the not so gently used johnny shirt, go into a change room with a curtain for a door and strip to my belt.  I hear a voice "did you put deodorant on today?" I'm thinking of course I did you idiot! Its 2 in the afternoon, I am in a uniform, what a dumb question. I meekly yell out "yes, sorry I forgot about that part".  The voice directs me to the adjacent bathroom to sterilize my pits.  Quickly, I cover myself with the johnny shirt and jump over to the bathroom.  Nerves are getting the best of me.  My mouth is dry. I'm sweating profusely.  It's COLD and I've got some nipples going on......the voice interrupts urging me to "hurry along".  I comply.

I walk into room number 3.  This isn't my first time, but it's still no fun. Whew! The technician looks nice.  She has a pretty smile, friendly eyes, nice shoes...how bad can it be.  I cheerfully say "hi, I'm so glad to be here hahahaha".  She gives me the look.  And says, "take the robe off, I have to put these stickers on your nipples"  I gasp.  She grabs, gently of course, and leads me by the boob to the boob buster thingie. (that allegedly cost millions of dollars....surely something that damn barbaric was bought on a discount!!!) She mashes the boob around to get it just right.  She smiles as she lowers the squisher, and says "you're lucky they are little, it goes faster that way"..So, I guess for the first damn time in my life I am to be thankful that I am flat chested????  She then positions my feet.  I swear to god I am going to fall backward and be removed from my boob because the damn thing is in a vice.  She walks away.  I am left alone.  I hear a voice from the other room; "don't breathe".  WHAT????  I have been allowed to breathe up to this point.  I haven't taken a breath in 3 minutes!!!!!  Jeeze.....I didn't breathe. The vice got tighter.  I had to look.  OMG!!! OMFingG my boob is as big as a box of kleenex, but flatter.....it's going to burst.  "ok, breathe". FAWK......I smile, and ask if that is all.  She repeats it all 3 more times - the other boob, and two pits - that goodness I cleaned them!
When it was all over, I waited around for a little hug or a cuddle, but nothing.  How sad.  I was man-handled and I didn't even get a kiss or a phone number.
But that's ok....I got my mammy done again!!!  Clear for another year!!!  Don't procrastinate ladies - it can save your life!!!!

I'm a loser

As the title suggests...I am a loser!  Well, not officially yet, but will be soon.  My husband and I (with his business partner & lovely wife) just signed up for the local "Biggest Loser" competition.  So, I stepped on the scale for the second time of my adult life. It didn't break.
I just don't understand myself sometimes.  I am one of the most confident, outgoing, non-self-loathing person I know.  BUT I just could not bring myself to look at the scale.  I know I am not thin...I do own mirrors - several of them.  I know I am not as toned as I used to be - my "muffin tops" are more like uncooked dough boys.  I can't buy clothes in the "cute" section.  So really, who the hell am I trying to fool????  Myself??? Fawk - as if I don't know the truth....but quite obviously I can't handle the truth.  I am a loser.  A certifiable one methinks.

On another note, my dear friend's beloved cat died today.  He was 17.  Such a sad occasion.  But I did have a revelation of sorts as a result of this ordeal.  I wonder if the local undertakers have ever checked out the programs offered to families of the deceased for the final arrangements? My friend got the "deluxe" package. $50 - a private cremation and a lovely wooden box.  She could have gotten the "standard" package where the deceased of the week are "done up" together and the ashes distributed evenly.  I'm not saying that the undertakers should adopt such practices, but I think the vets might be on to something here.  Inexpensive, easy on the environment......just sayin...

Talk to you tomorrow....

You should have a blog.

So, last night, I posted another foolish status on Facebook.  Not because I am trying to be funny, but I will  admit I like the whole shock value of some of the stuff I put on there.  I get a little "rise" out of all of the  "likes" and the silly little comments.  Maybe I'm sick in the head.  Maybe I'm simple.  Maybe I have too much time on my hands ( I highly doubt that one).  SO...my cousin-in-law Valarie suggested that I should have a blog.

A BLOG?????  What the heck is a BLOG?  I'm not that old and out of touch, I know that.....but a BLOG?  Sounds like such a, well I dunno, bodily function? Disease? a sound indicating loss of words? Jeeze...really....so...I looked it up.  Didn't learn much. An online diary....but it's not....because a diary is a secret book.  Nothing is a secret on the web.  I'm not one for secrets anyway.  I speak my mind.  I say what others think.  I laugh at inappropriate times.  SO, still not really knowing what a BLOG is, I will use this forum to share ME.  My foolishness, my quirkiness, my sharp tongue, and my wit. 

Enjoy!!