Still Sparkling

Before checking my e-mail this morning I made a solemn promise to myself to answer the Daily WordPress Prompt no matter what.  Every day I read it and have good intentions, but we all know the place to which good intentions are paving the road.  This road is also crowded with people who write awkward sentences and take a long time to get to the point.

Sparkling or Still

What’s your idea of a perfect day off: one during which you can quietly relax, doing nothing, or one with one fun activity lined up after the other? Tell us how you’d spend your time.

At the risk of boring you into a coma, here goes.  Hey, it’s not like I’ve duct taped you to a chair in my living room where you feel obligated to choke down a bad cup of coffee and pretend to listen.  Although that’s how you may feel.

I have been successfully retired for fifty days.  That’s almost two months of continuous days off, and that makes me a self-proclaimed expert on the subject.  Quietly relaxing doing nothing is a fun activity for me, so I choose both answers simultaneously.

My typical day starts with coffee consumed while I scroll through all the e-mails I get from the best of the blogs I follow.  This can take a long time, depending on how interesting you all have decided to be on any particular day.  November has been a crazy month with everyone posting like mad.  I’m anticipating less activity in December when we’re all in Christmas mode.  Even if you don’t celebrate it, it’s pretty hard to ignore altogether.

W finishes reading the paper and most mornings wanders off to the kitchen, eventually interrupting me after making breakfast to tell me to come and cook my own eggs.  He just can’t make himself mutilate eggs the way I do.  Broken, flipped and cooked to death should be a choice in all breakfast restaurants.

If either of us has somewhere to go, we get our act together and do that.  If we don’t, the best way to spend an afternoon for me is messing around in my art room.  Messing around is no vague term.  Sometimes I share my mess, sometimes I don’t.  There was this one oil pastel thing I did that was so hideous I threw it out.  Picture an alien with green eyes and hair on fire.

I also read real books or something on my kindle, clean up, play some word games, write some kind of nonsense on my blog, drum up some ambition to make something for dinner, make lists.  Yes, there are days when I don’t leave my house.  I refuse to feel bad about this, although I will admit some form of physical exercise will have to make it on to one of my lists soon.  Up and down the stairs fifteen times a day should count for something in the meantime.

WAKE UP!  I’m still talking to you.  Don’t you want to hear how I spend my evenings??  They’re more or less a repeat of the afternoons, actually.

Some days I wonder if they miss me at work.  Then I read Dilbert on my page a day calendar and think – nope – probably not.

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Today is our anniversary so we will probably go out to eat somewhere.  We also know there’s a bunch of leftovers in the fridge and neither of us would care if we opted for that instead.  It’s quite delightful to have days stretch ahead of me which I can fill with whatever I want.

Okay, duct tape is going in the garbage and you’re free to go.  I’ll finish up the coffee.  Draw a couple of flaming red-haired elves.  Try not to get too stressed out by all the excitement in my mad and crazy life.

I worked hard for this!  I’m going to enjoy every single fun and relaxing minute of it.

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Sharing My World 9

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This is what you get when you ask everybody to smile.

Share Your World – 2014 Week 45

What is your favorite color?

For as long as I can remember it’s been red.  There was a brief period in my life when my mother was going through her “little dark-haired girls should be dressed in red” phase when I wished for my blonde haired sisters blues and browns, but I was just going through my own “jealous sister” phase and got over it.  Now I find myself choosing red for just about everything where red is a choice .  My I-Pad cover and my dinner plates are red.  I have a red wall in my living room.  A lot of my blood cells are red.  (My grandson helped me out with that one.)  I did a quick survey in this house and discovered there’s not a red lover amongst them.  Lime green, light blue, dark blue, purple, brown and yellow.  Maybe if the dog could talk and wasn’t color blind she’d say red.

In what do you find the simplest of joys?

Waking up well rested, that first fresh hot cup of coffee, my breakfast smoothie, a lazy relaxing day with no definite plans, some pleasant conversation, getting motivated to start an exciting new creative endeavor, getting something finished, making and eating a delicious nutritious meal, going to bed with an excellent book, long run on grammatically incorrect sentences which make you wonder if they’re ever going to end.

Would you prefer a reading nook or an art, craft, photography studio?

My photography skills are pretty basic and I can read anywhere, but for arts and crafts it’s important to me to have a space big enough to make a colossal mess.  Because the creative process is messy.  Or maybe that’s just me.

What is at least one of your favourite quotes?

“I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t teach you how to love somebody. They don’t teach you how to be famous. They don’t teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don’t teach you how to walk away from someone you don’t love any longer. They don’t teach you how to know what’s going on in someone else’s mind. They don’t teach you what to say to someone who’s dying. They don’t teach you anything worth knowing.” ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman

Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

It’s been great visiting with family for over a week, seeing the grandchildren and how they’re changing and growing up.  It’s a bit scary knowing they’ll all be teenagers before we know it.  I’m looking forward to going home, of course, because I always like that part of a trip as much as any other part of it.  Here’s hoping for an uneventful and safe drive.

Next week it’s back to my favourite surgeon for a follow-up/recheck.  And then I guess it’s time to get into Christmas mode.  Time rushes on.

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Art du Jour 2

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I have a deep respect for anyone who can look at a face and draw it and end up with it looking like the face they’re looking at. My results always resemble distant relatives. If not complete strangers.  So I’ve learned to like surprises.

This morning the ground is covered in snow and it’s still falling in big fat white flakes.  A man with a black umbrella walks his little dog on the slushy sidewalk.  Our neighbour returns from his daily trip to Tim Hortons but he won’t be sipping his morning coffee on the deck today.  Kids on their way to school saunter by with snow on their backpacks and their hatless heads.  Tough northern teens too hardy and cool to care about frozen fingers and frost-bitten ears.  Who would not be caught dead with an umbrella.

Big plans for the day – fill up the bird feeders for the blue jays, finally go through my ancient paints and discard the ones that are old and dried up and useless.  Make a list of what needs to be replaced.  Pay some bills. Try not to die from all the excitement.  Stay warm.

Bottoms Up

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Well I SUPPOSE it’s about time for a REAL post.  Said the pre-retiring mess-making cartoon-drawing officially old lady trying to make sense of this new not-classic mode of creation on Word Press.

So just ignore that, I’m not here to complain about insignificant things, because what I really want to talk about is my signature beverage.  It was a WP prompt awhile ago that made me laugh, because, really, who do we think we are, famous people with images or something?  And without even knowing me all that well you might suspect my drink du jour would be a tall glass of red wine (good guess) but it wasn’t always so.

It used to be chocolate milk.  I thought I would never outgrow it, and maybe I still haven’t completely, because that stuff is good.  Not the kind you mix with a powdered concoction into actual milk, but the kind you buy in little brown bottles or cartons which may or may not contain any real milk.  Smooth and thick and chocolate-y with coma inducing amounts of sugar.  This was such a rare treat when I was a kid that whenever we ate out (another once in a blue moon treat) that’s what I would order to drink.  Who cares about the food.  Chocolate milk goes with absolutely everything.

Then when I was a teenager trying to put chocolate behind me, Coca Cola was the next best thing.  Until it became cool to prefer Pepsi although if you did a blind taste test you’d probably have to cheat if you really wanted people to think you could tell the difference.

In my twenties and beyond, when I became extremely world-weary and sophisticated, my go-to beverage was a Harvey Wallbanger.  Because what could possibly be more sophisticated than that.  Not cheap draft beer, that’s for sure, although I admit I drank my fair share of that too, depending entirely on the money situation of the moment.   Vodka, orange juice, Galliano, a slice of orange and a maraschino cherry.  And lots of ice.  Umbrella purely optional.  But a nice touch.

W is the one who got me drinking amber rum.  Probably because the umbrellas were an embarrassment for him.  And it had to be with real Pepsi, no substitutions.  And a twist of lemon or lime.  I’m the one who switched myself to spiced rum.  He hates it.  All the more for me then.

Raising children changes everything of course, and drinking something like coffee to keep yourself alert replaces drinking anything that might cause you to pass out and miss seeing whatever it is they’re up to now.  And coffee seems harmless enough until you clue in to how addicted you are to it.  Even then, it’s not easy to give it up.  Mostly because you can’t possibly convince yourself that there’s any good reason to do so.  And besides, you spent a lot of money on that stupid Tassimo.

But pop and diet pop are SO incredibly bad for you.  I’ve had enough of them to last several life times and now I’m ready to quit.  Wine seems like a viable alternative.  I used to like white, but not much.  Then my daughter started raving about Malbec and I’ve been hopelessly hooked ever since.  It’s like store-bought chocolate milk for adults.  Plus you look way more worldly and refined sipping on something that’s not in a plastic cup or a travel mug, right?

Well I hope so.  I have a friend who won’t drink red wine because it makes her teeth and lips red.  I say, who cares?  I also say, drink whatever you want, teeth and lips be damned.  That’s the first time I’ve ever said that really, and probably the last time now that I look at it critically and while completely sober.

Damn, I should have said water.  We should ALL be saying water.  And being thankful that we have access to the clean and drinkable kind. That would be commendable, but also boring.  So red wine it is.  Until I’m at the stage in my life where they switch me to Metamucil through a plastic bendy straw.  May the wine preserve me until then.