I am a responsible blogger who sees fashion as a gateway to life. I figure, as long as we are all expected to get dressed each morning - fashion is a gateway drug to anything you want to blame on it. Most criminals are clothed when they commit crimes. Maybe it is not their upbringing at all, but the fact their pants do not go with the shirt they chose.
Friday, August 18, 2017
Wednesday, August 9, 2017
I imagine most people have seen the video by now of the big ride that broke down and sent people flying off into the air. Ya … that pretty much sums up why I don't do the rides anymore.
Like most kids, I was all over the rides. Growing up and attending almost every world famous Stampede during those years, we had a good exposure to rides. I always wanted the latest and greatest. There is something about rides that are just thrown up in a few hours having travelled from some other little Canadian town's animal and veggie-o-rama. It is like a prairie kids one chance to live on the edge.
That and eating the crap they sell there.
Then you become a mother and the whole throwing up bit sort of loses its charm. (not to mention the prices) I didn't want to throw up and I wasn't real keen on cleaning up the throw up from my kids who wanted to ride. They already lived in the city. They didn't NEED the rides, they had downtown and surviving Junior High to give them all the life and death situations they could possibly NEED. I saved them from wheat and cows for crying out loud - why can't kids ever be happy with what they have?
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Suspenders are an interesting invention. Santa Claus and grandpa were pretty much the gateway introduction for me. My parents tried to gloss over them in their bedtime story reading, but no detail ever escaped my attention.
I like to speculate how and where things were invented. Life was pretty simple once upon a time and "necessity was the mother of all invention" they say despite the unkind things written about her on bathroom walls. She was just a single mom doing the best she could with a really unruly kid. So I can imagine that someone was having probs with the whole belt concept. Either they were "the belt goes through the loops" challenged or "the little metal thingy goes in one of the holes" challenged. OK, maybe the motivation was that they could not find a belt big enough for someone but were people ever really that fat before McDonalds, potato chips and coke? And besides, it is just as likely that they were invented for a really skinny guy with no butt to keep his pants from sliding off.
Sunday, April 23, 2017
It was a great dream, there I was packing up treasures from home, me being the recipient of undiscovered treasures. Suddenly there were rooms that I never knew were there and the stuff in those rooms was beyond awesome. Then it morphed into walking by the beach and watching the dolphins jump and then I was being swept way out to sea by a giant wave and pushed miles away and me thinking I could use my hands in my rubber dinghy to get myself back. Thank heavens I hit the wall on the far side with the flocked wallpaper or I would have probably been a goner.
Then I woke up.
That was the start of my day.
Friday, April 14, 2017
The problem with growing up on a farm is that when you try to go to school in anything other than blue jeans and flannel, you get labelled a whacko.
I was the school whacko.
That was aided by the fact I was not allowed to touch the cows. Do you have any idea of how you stand out, living on a farm where everyone is in 4-H touching cows all day long and you are cow-less? It was like wearing a giant red cow with a bar through it on my forehead. It is a wonder they did not rename me "Hester."
Thursday, April 6, 2017
Friday, March 3, 2017
I have been a little remiss in showing up for life lately. I am not sure what happened.
I have examined my belly with the windchimes in the trees, scented candles aflame, oming and examining my bellybutton. Maybe I don't really understand what I am supposed to be looking for. Do other people's belly buttons do something special? Mine just lies there.
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
In my head, I like to pretend I had a pink room as a child and that I was allowed to embrace all thing's girl. That never happened.
I was raised by my grandparents in the middle of the prairies of Canada. The hardware store where one shopped for clothes, furniture, housewares, bedding and bath wares, office supplies, garden and combining needs … was limited in colour selection. There was "sturdy brown," "sensible beige," "serviceable John Deere green," "coal black," "steel grey," and "combine red." Sometimes they got crazy and threw the colours into a floral pattern or even a plaid. The line for those items would be all the way down the street to the Combine parts catalogue store. Nothing makes you feel more young and alive than knowing your grandparents have the exact same outfit that you do.
If I had been born on the ground in a dirt shack and wore nothing but beaver pelts … I would never have been a brown girl. God made me allergic to brown. I did not do brown. If someone tried to make me, I threw up and got hives. Once I think I may have even killed a goat. I can't be sure, but the last thing I remember was being made to wear brown pants and then I woke up and there was a goat hoof in my pocket and bits of goat fur caught in my teeth. Something happened and I was there, lying in the neighbours haystack and there were no live goats in sight. Brown does that to me.
Thursday, January 26, 2017
I figured it out.
I am pretty much done with people invading my space. I saw a meme that said, "someone just honked to get me out of my parking space faster so now I have to sit here until both of us are dead." I so relate to that.
I have done that.
Please don't judge me, unless you truly admire me for that and want to speak publicly on it … then please, you have my blessing.
I have tried. I do try. I start my day with my polite, tolerant underwear strapped on but by midday, after being bumped and walked into, pushed and shoved . . . I am pretty much unstrapped and going commando.