Budget Blues

My favourite pastimes are going out for coffee and shopping.  I love to trot out to the store, the inexpensive fruit and veggie store and grab a couple oranges or a few grapes and whatever looks appealing for my dinner.  Or my lunch. Or a snack. There’s no better break for someone like me who’s been trying all day to have a brilliant idea than a walk and a coffee.  Is it bad that they know me at Tim Hortons?

Apparently yes.  My daily happy money has been cut to $5. That represents a drastic reduction from the previous allowable of ……. Unlimited. 

After not quite a week, I can honestly say.  Nothing. I don’t want to swear on the Internet.  However, this is about as hard as giving up crack cocaine or chocolate.  All that time and no happy spending to fill it.  I have tried reading a book, doing cleaning, folding my laundry, napping and lots of surfing stupid stuff online.  Blah!  The person who is acting as a self-appointed financial advisor has suggested going to the gym.

Tonight, I did that.  So. In order not to be able to wander into Tims or Fresh Fruit Heaven, I left my wallet and lovely green debit card at home. But it was raining.  Should I get wet or stay dry at home?  Ok, different coat on and I’m on my way. Halfway thru the soggy, muddy, park I realize in order to do my physio exercises, I need my theraband.  Back home, getting drippier and exponentially crabbier by the second.  Out again, after giving myself a stern talking to about not giving up, I dash across Mount Pleasant and slide to the door. Legs freezingly wet, I arrive at GoodLife and squeeze my way amongst the sweaty bunch taking up the mat area. 

Did my physio sets. Three times three things, right next to huge guy who could crush me with an inadvertent thigh stretch.  I am brave.  Question is did it work? Or should I say, did it work out?

Did I hate it and really want to shop and sip?   Are all those tales of about endorphins kicking in just urban legends? Was I even more cranky, if marginally fitter? Or did I end up feeling all virtuous and cheerful, pleased to accomplish my somewhat neglected anti-knee-injury plips and plops?  This is embarrassing.  What can I say?  It may have been…… good.  I dried off fast and did all the sets and shared a few smiles and hellos a bit of chit chat. I’m not sure I’m ready to admit it, but I feel, um, ok.  I’m just going to keep this to myself for now, Myself and you.

 

The Grief Project

The Grief Project Interior Design Show Therapy Who buys a sofa for $8000? That’s the type of question that never worried Gerry and I. We made our yearly trip to the Interior Design Show and mentally splurged on all the goodies, sometimes getting to sit on lovely luxe pieces or at least touch them. It was annoying when we would get gently chastised for eating our lunch on a luxury lounger, but never mind. So this year, without my own personal design/good taste guru would I enjoy the Interior Design Show? Would it be therapeutic to wander through design porn or a(nother) way to open up the sadness floodgates? Good grief. What if I cried? I took along my good friend Grace, temporarily appointed as my photographer and discovered to my delight that I was able to assume the mantle of poseur and resident snob. As Grace and I visited the exhibits, I gave it all my best, loftily declaring items to be au courant, or, too too tacky. Grace may have seen through my pompous pronouncements (she has been to my place) but she let me pontificate and was a willing and cheerful participant in my Grief Project. We happily threaded our way through the show: I took notes and she took pictures and I gave out my most profound opinions. Note: The Interior Design Show is an A-1 Showcase The Interior Design Show is special. There are pieces by budding designers of furniture and some very high end exhibitors as well as those that want to show off their latest, most trend setting wares. It’s perfect for a snob like me and we had a marvelous time. Grace did not offer to buy me an Italian Espresso maker as Gerry once did, but she wasn’t in a wheelchair either. Verdict? If you’re grief stricken, it’s good to try the things you’ve liked forever. Rather than focusing on what’s missing, appreciate the positive differences. I did not even think of crying.

Busy Busy Busy

Time Management

This just in from the tooth police: apples have juices that can harm your teeth. So, do not eat apples all day long, a bit at a time, but once a day. Then, wait an hour and brush your teeth. The part of this that really resonates is ‘wait an hour’. I need to set my cell phone alarm and clean my teeth sometime later on?

In the last six months I have been admonished to not only take better care of my fangs, but also, of all things, my vacuum cleaner! Yep, gotta wipe it gently with a soft cloth inside and out after use. A soft cloth. And give it a new bag every two weeks. To suck up my dust and loose popcorn, plus stray oatmeal bits!

Ok, what else? There’s the lenses, which need 25 seconds of careful application of specialty cleaner before being treated to a refreshing stream of lukewarm water and placed in a specialty storage solution.

And my clothes, those expensive H & M duds that do me proud: some are now coming with tags about a metre long detailing the care instructions! And of course, there’s the old standby, the car: this needs seasonal treats and treatments plus lots of expensive fuel, plus insurance and mais oui, roadside insurance too, for those times when my Dentster is not capable of performing.

God knows what I should be doing for my computer. Or maybe the keyboard? For my cell phone, the battery needs juicing up, but not too much and please remove the juice-giver from the wall socket, because, after all, we have to conserve the energy.

I figure I need about a 38 hour day to maintain my life in anything resembling tip top status. So for now, I’m sorry to say, I will continue with the standard daily tooth hygiene. But I will try to eat my apples more judiciously. Or deliciously: for today at least.

Busy Busy Busy

Time Management

This just in from the tooth police: apples have juices that can harm your teeth. So, do not eat apples all day long a, bit at a time, but have one a day. Then, wait an hour and brush your teeth. The part of this that really resonates is ‘wait an hour’. So I need to set the alarm on my cell phone and clean my teeth sometime later on.

In the last six months I have been admonished to not only take better care of my fangs, but also, of all things, my vacuum cleaner! Yep, gotta wipe it gently with a soft cloth in and out after use. A soft cloth. And give it a new bag every two weeks. To suck up my dust and loose popcorn, plus stray oatmeal bits?

Ok, what else? There’s the lenses, which need 25 seconds of careful application of specialty cleaner before being treated to a refreshing stream of luke warm water and placed in a specialty storage solution.

And my clothes, those expensive H & M duds that do me proud: some are now coming with tags about a metre long detailing the care instructions! And of course, there’s the old standby, the car: this needs seasonal treats and treatments plus lots of expensive fuel, plus insurance and mais oui, roadside insurance too, for those times when my Dentster is not capable of performing.

God knows what I should be doing for my computer. Or maybe the keyboard? For my cell phone, the battery needs juicing up, but not too much and please remove the juice-giver from the wall socket, because, after all, we have to conserve the energy.

I figure I need about a 38 hour day to maintain my life in anything resembling tip top status. So for now, I’m sorry to say, I will continue with the 2x daily tooth hygiene. But I will try to eat my apples more judiciously. Or deliciously: for today at least.

A Salute to Art and Artists!

Art for Art’s Sake

Who would think of taking the toy poodle, symbol of everything too cute and chi chi and making it an icon for oneself? Three artists, calling themselves General Idea and working as a non-ego driven collective over several decades are the basis of a two floor exhibit at the AGO and their efforts amused and astounded me. And yes, they mocked themselves as poodles. The entire exhibit, from the paint dipped blue poodle ears to the heraldry, is definitely smile inducing, even when coupled with skulls and X’s to invoke the killer potency of AIDS, the scourge that killed two of these genius young men. But as I watched and read about their concepts such as the Miss General Idea Beauty Pageant, unorthodox in the extreme, what struck me about General Idea was the fact that they were able to work together, creating everything from wallpaper to pasta art, and never once take individual credit for a piece or an inspiration. They worked side by side for years and the volume of their output appears prodigious and massive.

As I wandered from display to display, I was knocked out by the courage that they, and all artists, have, putting themselves in the world’s face, not becoming bankers or insurance salesmen/women, but fearlessly taking brush to paper (or spaghetti to canvas) to amuse, annoy, stimulate, instruct and inspire.
The whole AGO and all galleries everywhere are filled with the stunning or even mundane creations of artists who delivered up their souls for the rest of the world. Bravo!

And I want to give a shout out to my fellow blogger Annie English, who is tirelessly exploring TO in her Day in the Life of A Torontonian, http://torontohappenings.blogspot.com/ letting us see inside her head at what she likes, feels, tastes, smells and hears. Hey Annie – tell me more! I will wait to see what you thought of the AGO’s General Idea Exhibit. I don’t know if we agree, but let’s get it out there, as a form of art too!

Perfection!

Fleeting Beauty

My family is gorgeous! Jenn is a luscious redhead with a killer figure and legs to here. Gerry, or Le Marquis de Mason, as we like to call him, has a smile that can light up a room and it’s genuine. Me, I am the quintessential mousy brown haired standard femme, a tad on the dumpy side. In my exercise gear I look like five pounds of sugar in a two pound bag, and I smile a lot too.

This week, however, I’ve been renovated! I have a new front tooth, courtesy of the same dentist who works on tennis player Francesca Schiavone when she’s in town. My hair, of which there is lots, has been highlighted to give it some pow factor and brighten it up. I have applied the latest non-medical skin cream, something that promises to have results, ‘instantly’. There have been two ‘instants’ so I’m glowing confidently like Madonna on a date.

My clothes are pressed, having been carefully selected for the occasion, a family photo shoot, and I am READY. In fact we’re all about as photogenic and truly lovely as we ever get. Jenn and Gerry are immaculate and I am pretty much sparkling too. My biggest fear, as I await my closeup? Please, please, don’t let me peak too soon!

Fanilow Flaxperson

Moonlight, Stage Lights, Anonymity and Bliss

I was hoarse and happy on Saturday morning– I’d sung my heart out, cheered and yelled as I danced, swayed and blissed out at the Barry Manilow concert at the Rexall Centre the night before. Open air stadium concerts are the best! You can let it rip, and no one else can see you, hear you or cares as you immerse yourself into the moment. Stand, sit, lean, move, dance, sit-dance, sing, chant and feel the goose bumps in complete abandon.

I have always been a bit shy to say I like Barry Manilow. But I love him. As the concert started, I wondered if it would be a caricature of his best moments, decades old, as he sprang around the stage blazing at us from the jumbotrons. Maybe I would have been as well off watching a tribute band. But no, it was magic. He talks and all his stories seem genuine and heartfelt and fascinating. When he sang from his new album, 15 Minutes, it was golden too! Of course the highlights were the oldies and those blew me away. Along with thousands of swaying screaming like-minded Fanilows!

Someone told me that I should buy the album and skip the concert. Was that your thought? Why drive to hell and back again to see this live? Because it was LIVE! I am proud that I love music and all types of singing, dancing and celebration. They were piping in Lady Gaga at the start and the fans were loving that too! It was a joyous night and man, or Manilow, I am so glad I was part of it!