Day 18 - "Drive Bys"


Okay, I'll get the most embarrassing type of drive by out in the open first.  Yes, I have driven by a boy's house that I liked merely for the joy of glancing at his place of residence.  And to see if his car was there.  And then to text him.  But only once.  And nowadays the place that he grew up still kind of haunts me because he haunts me.  So I don't drive by there.  And if I do, I look at the other side of the street.

The majority of my "drive bys" are sentimental looks at places that were once "mine."  If I'm ever on the south west outskirts of my home town, I can't help but take a creepily slow drive by the houses that used to belong to my neighbours.  As for the house that I grew up in, I don't think I can honestly call it a drive by because the speed resembles that of a crawling baby.  But for good reason!  The new owners have changed the place SO MUCH!  Instead of a simple pasture and yard surrounding a plain house, there is now the "nice" yard and a "play" yard, complete with a giant jungle gym.  Heck, they even planted some pretty big trees in this "play" yard which was once a section of the pasture.  As for the pasture, I don't think you can call it that anymore.  They've broken it up into so many smaller sections and corals that I pity the livestock they keep trapped in there.  They've built a bigger porch, a larger shed, and even erected one of those big spotlights most farms have to light up the yard.  It really isn't the place I grew up in anymore, but one can't help but drive slowly by and wonder if the bedroom I grew up in still has the painted black and white checkered floor.

8 Minute Memoirs - Day Eighteen

11.29.2016

Day Seventeen - "A Sibling"



I only have two siblings.  So it seems kind of mean to just pick one of them to write about.  But the funny thing is, when I think about my relationships with my sisters, the best memories I have with them are one-on-one situations.  My husband would blame this on the fact that we are an uneven number, and I might have to agree.  You see, when the three of us are together, nine times out of ten some kind of fight is going to happen.  I assure you we love each other very much, but there's just something about the three of us together that equates with someone getting offended and some kind of fight erupting.  It's been that way since we were little.  Two of us would be playing quite nicely, then the odd man out would want in on the fun and BAM - we're fighting.  It's like some kind of chemical reaction, where one and two combine nicely, so do one and three and two and three, but as soon as you mix one, two, and three together, the reaction combusts.  That's not to say that it's always going to be like this.  We're starting to calm down a little, so in the future I see us being able to get a long just fine.  Heck, the other night the three of us were FaceTiming together and we had a hoot.

Some of the memories I have with my sisters, individually include:

Kassidy: picking the rhubarb from my parents garden with her in Westlock and wearing the big leafs as hats; picking little curly pumpkin or cucumber vines from the garden and putting them down her pants (for some reason I thought this was hilarious); getting in a fight with Kassidy on Boxing Day and using the plastic shape holder my brand new watch came in as a weapon - I broke it on her head, I still feel bad about that to this day (sorry Kass); getting to tag along to her clogging competitions and being amazed at her coordination - whenever I tried to clog she'd laugh her head off at me; playing post office, writing and delivering letters to each other ...

Hannah: laying her on a blanket as a baby and dragging the blanket around the house; playing house with her as a baby and putting her into my new doll high chair - she got stuck and my parents had to play a game of tug-o-war to get her out (Dad holding the legs of the high chair, Mom pulling on a screaming Hannah); pinning Hannah down and spit torturing her, or squishing her face into crazy looks; watching her play with her "pet" ants - at the acreage I grew up at, there was a huge ant hill at the end of the driveway - Hannah wasn't old enough to have a pet, but was jealous that Kassidy and I each had one, so she claimed the ants as her pets and would go sit in the pile and let them crawl all over her - when she was done she'd come home, still with ants all over her ...

8 Minute Memoir - Day Seventeen

11.24.2016

Day Sixteen - "Learning New Things"

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For the most part, I like to think that I like to learn.  I like creating little projects for myself where I can learn a new skill, or simply gain the experience of trying something new.  My most recent learning experience was the process of creating a simple design to be screen printed onto a t-shirt and then having it printed on a relatively large quantity of t-shirts.  I learned that people like cheap t-shirts but not cheap quality t-shirts.  So there's this whole paradox of trying to find a quality t-shirt, getting it screen printed, and then selling it for an affordable price, yet still managing to make a little bit of a profit in order to not completely waste all of your time.  I enjoyed this learning experience.  But what I mostly learned about it is that I don't have the patience or energy to be very good at marketing.  Nope.  Not even a little bit.  Want to know why?  Because I feel safe saying that the majority of all marketing, especially for small businesses, takes place on social media.  And to put it lightly, I really don't like using my social media with the hidden (or maybe really open) agenda of trying to take your money.  I've had people come out of the wood work to see if I want them to coach me in some workout program and so on.  For the most part, I really admire their drive and determination, but at the same time, please just leave me alone.

So that kind of went off on a tangent.  I guess we can say that I don't like learning about marketing.  These days Jon is really the one out in the world learning new things.  He's aiming for med school.  Since getting married, I've been the one with the anatomy and medicine type background since I did a year of Respiratory Therapy.  I've been the one that knows lots in that department.  And to be completely honest, facing the reality that one day Jon will probably be the smart one in that department makes me a little jealous and defensive.  What am I going to have on him if he one ups me there?

8 Minute Memoir - Day Sixteen

11.22.2016

Day Fifteen - "Camping"

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The most memorable camping I've ever done was the first time I went out sans parents.  Just me and my friend Jessica went camping by ourselves in grade nine.  We were pretty hard core adventurers.  We loaded all of our necessities onto my quad and drove probably less than a mile from my house to a grove of trees that had been mutilated by cows, but were still trees nonetheless.  We found a nice patch of ground on the outskirts of the grove, tucked in some smaller, bushy looking trees.  This was the only patch to have only one cow pie per square foot of ground.  So went set up the pup tent and sat around doing nothing waiting for it to get dark so that we could begin "camping."  I can't remember if we ate a cold supper out there alone amongst the cow turds, but I'm sure we were wise enough to bring an ample amount of snacks.  As dark was drawing near, my dad came to check on us.  We were partying hard inside the tent listening to "In the Ghetto" by Elvis Presley.  I can't hear that song without thinking about this right of passage.  I had a good enough sleep, but I did get very cold. It was only April for heaven's sake.  What were we thinking?  I remember waking up at dawn and being exceedingly jealous that Jessica had slept with her winter coat on.  I tried to quietly slip into my jacket and create any sort of warmth for myself.  Getting comfortable and falling asleep again wasn't in my stars though, so I laid there waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting.  Isn't waiting for someone to wake up the worst?  I mean, I could have woken her up, but that would make me a crappy friend.  Finally she woke up and we broke camp, piled back on the quad and drove home.  So basically, this "camping" trip was really just a "sleeping in a tent that isn't set up in the backyard" trip.  But to me it was camping.  Of course Jessica and I bragged about it on Monday to all of our friends.  So a few weeks later, we did it again, but with a whole posse.  This time we hung our bras on the tree branches above the tent.  When we woke up in the morning they were gone.  But only because some sneaky friends hid them in the car.  Yes, we drove less than a mile from my house that time.  And now that I've written all of this out, I've realized there were no fires.  So, is it even really camping if you don't light a camp fire?

8 Minute Memoir - Day Fifteen

11.21.2016

Day Fourteen - "School Lunch"

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When I was in grade one, the kids who stayed at the school for lunch had to sit on the floor against the hallway walls with all the other kids in my grade.  I thought the teacher who sat on a chair at the end of the hallway watching us must have felt so lucky to get to eat lunch with us.  Now I realize that they definitely took turns supervising lunch and it was probably the absolute worst duty to have.  One boy didn't usually stay for lunch, but the day that he did, he had a hard boiled egg in his lunch.  I'm pretty sure I started dry heaving, the thought of seeing him eat a hard boiled egg was too much for my young stomach.

When I was in the Northside School, which was from grades 4-6, all the kids in the entire school that stayed for lunch were shoved into the gym.  I remember bringing a styrofoam ichiban noodle cup for lunch once and having to stand in line forever to cook it.  When I finally had my turn, I totally zoned out waiting.  An older kid behind me in line had to tap me on the shoulder to point out that it had boiled over in the microwave.  It was humiliating and I'm pretty sure I cursed my mother a thousand times for sending me to school with a noodle cup for lunch.

In Junior High the school laid the smack down.  For some reason they made it a rule that if you were staying at the school for lunch you HAD to remain in the gym for the entire lunch hour.  This was probably to keep us from roaming around in the actual school and playing in the stairwells, but it seemed like major repression.  So I decided to strike.  I made a poster and marched around the gym.  But only for one lunch hour because after that they started bringing out the ping pong tables so after eating we would play ping pong.  I didn't feel so repressed after that.

As for lunch in High School, all I remember is that the cool kids ate in the foyer at the two tables.  I was terrified of the cool kids.  The show choir weirdos sat on the floor outside the band room to eat their lunch.  I was in show choir, but I did not categorize myself as a weirdo.  As I type this, I feel bad that those were my thoughts back then and really hope that I do not offend any of the said show choir weirdos if they happen upon my blog.  I apologize for what I thought of you.  In grade 12 I would eat my lunch in the computer lab with the yearbook committee.  It was a great time.  

8 Minute Memoir - Day Fourteen

Day Thirteen: "Your Most Important Hair Moment"


Honestly, I don't think I've had an important hair moment.  But I vividly remember a time that my hair actually upset my mother to the point of making her shed a tear.  When I was in grade nine I begged my mom to do my hair in sponge curlers.  My hair was short enough that when it was done up in sponge curlers in looked more like an afro than like cute little girl curls.  And I thought this was the coolest thing ever.  In retrospect, I'm willing to admit that I did look ridiculous, but the best kind of ridiculous.  Anyway, it's a Friday afternoon, I was rocking my sponge curler afro and I got my mom to drop me off at the Junior High because I needed to decorate for the dance that night.  When my mother drops me off she asks when I'll need her to pick me up.  I reply probably around 10:30pm, after the dance is over and cleanup is done too.  Upon hearing the news that the dance is actually TONIGHT and that I will be rocking said sponge curler afro to a dance, my mom becomes quite upset.  

"When are you going to get ready?"

I respond that I already am.  I'll be going to the dance exactly as I'm dressed then.  Curls and all.

If you were to ask my mom about the next part, she will deny it, say that I'm making things up, but I kid you not.  I have the memory of an elephant.  This has been etched into my memory.

Upon realizing that her daughter cared so little about her appearance, my mother teared up.  And me, being the considerate daughter that I am, said, "Okay bye," and had a spectacular time at the dance looking like Sideshow Bob.

Eight Minute Memoir - Day Thirteen

11.20.2016

Day Twelve: "Decisions"


One of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make was believing a voice I heard inside my head and believing what I felt at a pretty critical moment in my life.  When I was in grade twelve I became close to an amazing individual.  In fact, I'm comfortable with saying that I even grew to love him.  I did.  I loved him.  And I know that he loved me.  And we were both so drawn to each other, but the timing was never right for things to become ever closer than simply being close friends who enjoyed each others company and confided each others dreams.  We had special moments too, moments that I swear will be etched into my mind and heart for eternity.  Moments that have and will forever haunt places and poems, songs and situations because he is still in them.  One of which was when he shared the brilliant news that he had received a mission call.  He went on to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I wrote him for two years.  I told him I was ready to date, that I was brave enough to talk about scary things like feelings.  And I meant it.  I was ready, but to date.  He came home ready for marriage.  And neither of us were willing to compromise.  So when it became clear that now was not our time or place, he asked me if he could kiss me.  If I could be his first kiss after returning from his mission.  I obliged, this was a kiss I had dreamt of for years, that we both had waited years for.  A kiss that probably had the potential to change how our situation was unfolding.  But I remember nothing more of this kiss than a simple voice which said:

"You're kissing someone else's husband."

I later found out that when we parted ways and he said, "Goodbye," that night, he meant, "Until we meet again."  But after hearing what I did, I have never exchanged a more final farewell, and I probably never will.  I believe I'll eventually be reunited with the loved ones I've had to bury, but with him, we will never, ever be what we were.  And I said goodbye to a big part of myself that night.  I cried until I couldn't see the road driving home.  I sat on the floor in my room unable to sleep a wink that night.  And what made that so hard was that I decided then and there to trust the voice I had heard.  I could have decided being without him was much too hard, and it was for awhile.  I could have passed the voice off as a silly thought in my head.  But I decided to trust it and it hurt like hell.  

Eight Minute Memoir - Day Twelve

I feel sheepish writing on this thing after extended absences. I'm in the middle of one of those mothering-induced identity crises where I don't even know if I qualify for the title of blogger anymore because I rarely do it.  I rarely run these days too, so I'm not sure if I'm even a runner.  I just plum don't have a hobby or passion that offers me a relief from the sole title of mother.  Don't get me wrong, being a mother is an adventure and passion of mine in and of itself, there are just sometimes where I feel absolutely consumed by the role and responsibility and feel depressingly disassociated from myself.  Whoever that is these days.  So allow me to ramble here to myself while I try to get acquainted with the person I currently am.

> I'm trying to eat more vegetables.  The instagram account @simplelife_bykels is the inspiration fuelling that desire.  I've become addicted to brussel sprouts because of her.



> I'm trying to eat more fruit.  The instagram account @earthyandy motivates me to do this with the pictures of her smoothie bowls.


> I've been reading a lot more lately.  I stumbled upon the "Storm and Silence" series by Robert Thier on Wattpad and I love it.  It's currently in the running for an award on Goodreads.  Go vote for it!  Or at least read it.  If you like historical fiction/adventure/romance type stories.


> I unfollowed every single person I'm friends with on Facebook.  It's nothing personal, I just didn't want to have a newsfeed anymore.  The funny thing is that the site must have figured out what I was doing and by the time I got down to my last 25 or so friends to unfollow, warnings started popping up and then I would be ejected from my friends list and have to go back in.  It made the process much more time consuming than I thought, but the evil Facebook must have known what I was up to and didn't want to relinquish it's hold on my soul so easily.  So you know all the awful political crap trolling your feed?  Yeah, I haven't seen any of it.

> I've dipped my foot in the pool that is bullet journalling.  I've always been an avid journal keeper, but my problem always seemed to be that I'd have this specific journal for this sort of writing and this notebook for those things and so on.  The glory of the bullet journal is to streamline things and keep everything in one concise book.  I'll admit it has it's cons, my journalling is now more planner-esque, but there are definite pros.  This is a topic that probably merits it's own blog post.

> My hair is getting longish.  If you knew me and my sisters growing up, you would know that my two younger sisters had beautiful long hair, while I struggled to grow mine to my shoulders.  It just didn't grown and when it did, it would become so brittle and dry it would just break.  I know being a mother is a stage where most girls cut their hair, but I intend to someday have hair as long as my sisters' was.  I'll probably be 70 by then.  The silly thing is that I don't really like wearing my hair down.  It gets braided pretty much every. single. day.

So that's me these days.  Oh, and I've been getting migraines.  The past two days I've woken up at 3am with a migraine.  And then I spent the better part of two other days in bed with a migraine.  Anybody have a secret cure?  Decapitation is almost sounding quite pleasant.


These Days

11.17.2016

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