I'm Getting Naked

www.photo-dictionary.com/

Not that everything I do or say has to be sexual, but... Blame it on my culture. When I used to get together with my friends, back home in Canada, we'd talk (en français) raunchy and really lay it all out. It was fun. We laughed. We drank. And we bonded through our revelations.

55 - Crossing Over

Mr Know It All

The day I turned 

eighteen, 

I stuffed all my 

stuffed toys in a box. 

The Witch

Don't you just love it when you randomly pick up a book -

A Job Interviewwwwww!

I got an email yesterday.

*happy dance*

Inviting me to a job interview.

*happy dance*

For a job I applied to at the San Diego Zoo.

X-Mas at Mimi's

It's Christmas.

So what.

This once was my most favorite time of the year. I started humming Christmas music by December 15. I shopped for my nieces, sisters, parents, friends, co-workers and for the main squeeze in my life. I always ended up buying way more than what I'd planned on. I kept lists in my pocket and kept adding stuff to the lists I checked way more than twice.

The Perfect Storm!

This is an artist's rendering of what happened. Notice the clothes in the front window?

They say when you go South down the Baja it's downhill, but heading northbound is like going uphill. The current, the wind and mankind's basic natural instinct all take you towards the South and warmer climates!

A 3-Week Pictorial

Please enjoy the first leg of my journey.

Its getting cold and windy in La Paz. We're thinking of heading towards warmer climates yet. Apparently the low 70s is now deemed unacceptable to mi esposo. Harumph! Last night I woke to a wet bed. How sweet - hot flashes! Love this getting older trend I'm in. Yeah. Just loving it!

Cool Little Story

www.jimcline.com/baja

We left San Diego on November 10. Our "marina neighbors" Sam and Dave left the marina over 1 month before we did. We knew they were heading out, knew they were going Southbound, but that's all we knew.

Halfassed Weekender Edition!

Doncha wish I made YOU a birthday cake?

It was HIS birthday Friday! I made him a cake too! Kinda like a Pink Panther cake. You remember that one? Where he's so hungry, but his fridge is empty and so are his pockets to he has no food nor does he have access to food so he cuts out an image of a fish in a magazine and fries it up in a pan. Places the fried up image in a plate, ties a napkin around his neck, grabs a knife and fork and eats the image...

Let The Adventure Begin!

Next Thursday. That's when my new adventure will begin. We are goin' cruisin! When we were installing our dinghy davit (tee hee, that expression will always make me giggle) everybody on our dock kept asking "Goin cruising?" which I later found out was boater talk for "Are you leaving for a lengthy sailing trip?"

Things I've Done

www.socialnetworking.procon.org

Oh, what have you done? Sunday I posted a list of what I've never done. I've managed to pair up every thing I haven't done to its equivalent of what I have done. And this is a true exercise in humility. Things listed here are taboo, shameful, but harshly honest with myself. And by doing these things I have built the person I am today.

I am pretty awesome, so I cannot deny my past. None of it. Even the bad parts.

I'm 45 and so far I have:

Things I've Never Done

I'm 45 and I've never:

1. Had children.
2. Not said sorry when I needed to.
3. Was going to say "been to Africa" but just remembered I have - Morocco. But I find it hard to count that as being in Africa.
4. Jumped out of an airplane (when it was in the air...)

It's Official!

I showed him this ad this morning.

Me: "Hey we can save up to 89% in laser hair removal in LaJolla!"
Him: "I'm already losing all my hair for free!"

Trapped In Little Saigon!

This isn't MY picture, its from Yelp! As in "Yelp me I'm trapped!"

I had my first ever pedicure 2 weeks ago. Cute little Ashley did a wonderful job. When I discovered she happened to be Vietnamese I asked her what her fave Viet restaurant was. And this is how I ended up being trapped!

(Cue the suspense jingle with dramatic overtones)

I LOVE Vietnamese food! I was a regular at Nu Mee Fung in the Chinese district in Ottawa. I go goo-goo for the rice paper roll-ups (an asian version of the fajita) and have become very addicted to this meal. Whenever I happen to be in Ottawa, I always make a special trip down memory lane...

(Cue the "get with it" screams!)

My Shame: I Am Not A Leader

This falls under 30 Days of Shamelessness, Post #7: Share your efforts at something you don’t think you do well.

And I am not a leader. I have many leadership skills, traits, abilities, bla bla bla. But people just do not follow me. They don't. And to lead, you must be followed. I have dedicated a major part of my life in honing my leadership capacities, from college to most of my professional career... And I still am not followed.

In high school, when the school principal wanted to inspire us to run for class president, he talked about leadership skills and how to know you have them "When you get up and decide to go to the restaurants, do your friends go with you or just stay put?" My friend looked at me and said "That's me!" I asked her if it was me too. She laughed. She's probably still laughing.

"People don't follow you, silly! I don't know why, they just don't!"

Then my teacher felt the compelling need to finger ME out in class. And this lasted during the entire hour where she droned on and on about my lack of leadership skills. I wanted to run out of the class crying, but instead I chose to sit there and stare at her hoping to make her feel as badly as she deserved to feel.

Later, I chose "Recreation Leadership" for my college degree. After completing a month long intensive program on (duh) leadership, where we were taught that leadership in essence was the influence one has on a group of people. We were asked questions such as who influences:

• your decision making;
• what you do in your spare time;
• where on campus you spend your lunch break;
• what you wear;
• who you hang out with; etc.

And the last question asked was who influences you the most overall in your life. And every single student in the class wrote down MY name. Yet, when I planned outings and invited classmates, only 1 or 2 would agree to go. They didn't trust me enough to follow me on a night out on the town, but they sure relaxed when it came time to putting their life in my hands.

I wanted to have my professor put the results down in writing so I could plaster it in my high school teacher's office AND my ex-best-friend's apartment. The entire time I was running on high speed trying to prove 2 people they were wrong.

Only thing is: they were right. I am still not being chosen to follow... Oddly enough I am an influential person but people don't realize when they make life changing decisions just where the influence came from. Am I arrogant to make such claims? And what's wrong with not being the leader, but one of the followers? In this society where we spend huge amount of money on building leaders, isn't it time we invest in the followers?

Where I'm From

This is taken from this week's writing prompts by MamaKat or this template here.

Of course I had to change it up a little bit... but I tried to follow the rules as best as I could. I am after all a hard headed misfit and I know you would expect no less of me.

I am from

I am from metal clip-on roller skates but mostly Barbie dolls, from Kraft, CCM bikes and peanut butter toasts in front of Bugs Bunny cartoons and always having to get up to change the channel.

I am from red bricks, white aluminum, and split leveled blandness with a never ending insecure desire to please.

I am from the rosebush stuck behind the backdoor, neglected, slammed upon but always blooming with beautiful red flowers.

I am from the annual roasted pig we lovingly called Arnold and drunken laughter, from the Lebel's and the Grenon's to the Lapointe's and the Bigras.

I am from the city we call the moon for its lack of trees and rocky roughness and a nation's Capital where sidewalks are rolled up after business hours. But will always call home the city that gave birth to the Habs.

From do-as-your-told, eat-your-brussel-sprouts, go-ask-your-mother and clean-up-your-room...

I am from organ rehearsals every Saturday morning at the Catholic church and stolen cookies from the nuns' kitchen.

I'm from a confusing world where uttering something as simple as "Bonjour" could land a teacher behind bars. From "Fais dodo" and toe stomping songs with the ruine-babines inviting you to join in unison.

From the meat pies, cretons, maple syrup, pâté de foie, and card games where my aunts and uncles stuck them on their foreheads laughing wildly as they grabbed another 50.

I am from summers with cousins spent at French River, dreams of city lights, fitting in and community pools where we mold young leaders to take on the world.

Her Life Is In Your Hands Dude

That bad boy to the left is what's currently holding my life in its hands.

Oh by the way, like my Lebowski quote? One of my all time FAVORITE movies. Ever. But then again, my list of all time favorite movies ever is a bit long. Kinda.

I've taken on the task of ripping my movie collection and storing them on this new shiny piece of equipment.

Just in case you were wondering what us unemployed people living on boats do during the day while you sit idly by your computer catching up on Facebook and Twitter pretending to work.

Didn't think I knew what you were up to didja? I had an office job once. A long time ago. A very long long time ago.

So, yeah, the reason why this thing has MY life in ITS hands (and please don't ask me where its hands are, they're internal. Somewhere.) Is because I own approx 170 movies. At a ratio of approx 30 minutes to rip one movie, I'm talking like 85 hours (yeah, I did use the calculator for that small piece of mathematics calculation, I just did 5 miles on my bike - to return rented DVDs I ripped - so I guess the bike ride in theory could be added to the 85 hours of ripping activity. Yes, that would then make it more than 85 hours. Give or take.)

Where the heck am I going with this post?

If that little shiny piece of equipment were to get blanked out for some reason, I may want to commit suicide. Or jab a hammer through my eyeball. Not the ball ping kind, but the other one. The carpenter's hammer. Didn't think I knew the difference between the two of em right?

I was a mechanic for 5 years, remember?

I just hope that thing holds out. I don't want a hammer through my eyeball. If I did do that though, I'd use my right eye. Since my left one is my shooters eye. I learned that years ago when I was working in Summer camps teaching archery. Don't worry, I don't play with guns. I do however run with scissors.

Because that's just the way I roll baby!

p.s. 70 movies have been ripped up to date
p.p.s. just thought you wanted to know...

30 Shameless Days - Love For An Uncool Movie

I'm stumped by this. An uncool movie? Isn't that kinda like the uncool TV show? For my husband, any chick flick or musical is uncool. For me it's any horror movie. Grrrrr.....  Horror flicks keep me up at night and I do get very frightened by them.

But does that make them uncool? I've found awesome stuff at garage sales. That last-chance-to-make-cash-out-of-your-trash deal? Basically, what people sell out of their garage is to them uncool, right?

What's cool? I know I'm not cool. I'm a spaz. A geek. An annoying person who is always stressing over what people really think about her. Not that what people think of me will affect what I do or say, but I just want to know what's going on in people's heads when they look at me.

At derby I yell a lot. "Jammer coming up!" "Coming on your inside!" "Watch out! Old lady coming through!" Coaches tell us its good to be in constant communication and giving info is key in becoming a good derby athlete.

So words fly out my mouth constantly. And I don't really yell-yell per say. I know, I mentioned "yell" but that's only because the word says more than if I were to claim "I project a lot at derby". Projection allows you throw your voice further without strain on your throat and stuff. You push from the gut. I can actually whisper and an auditorium full of 500 will hear me.

So. Where does that put us in terms of uncool movies? Since I defined it by horror flicks, I must then talk about one of those frightening movies that keep you up at night with horrible visions in your brain.

The Changeling. That's my pick.

It came out in 1979 or 1980. My dad took me to see this telling me it was about classical music.

I was 14.

And I was frightened. A movie about classical music? I trusted my dad and believed his every words. Other than when he told me my mom was a lesbian, but that's beside the point and just angry divorce talk.

But this movie was NOT about classical music. Yes it's got a good soundtrack if that's your thing. But, needless to say I LOVED this movie even if it scared the bejeezus outta me.

I was 14. And my dad was taking me out to the movie theater. This is back when going to the movies was a big thing. Same goes as going out to a restaurant. Nowadays, movies are as disposable as a Seinfeld rerun episode.

p.s. also among unpopular movies I also love:

1. The Mask and most Jim Carrey movies out there... (including Cable Guy)
2. Amelie
3. Borat
4. Freddy Got Fingered
5. Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
6. O Brother Where Art Thou?

Honey, I Shrunk My Mom!

Editor's note: this story is best read in a Morgan Freeman narrative. Don't ask. Just trust that as you read this, it's best if you do it with his voice.

*****

My mother has always been the tallest. My entire life I was shorter, of course when I was younger this was rather obvious, but even as I became an adult I never reached her height. Not any more. She turns 75 in November, and she has already lost nearly 2 inches. I think those inches have found their way around her ankles.

My mother is the proud owner of the saying "Be the woman" (or as SHE put it fais une femme de toi, which is kinda the same.) She's also told me more than once to "put some hair on your chest". She's always been such a strong tough woman. Director of Nursing in a major Montreal hospital, she's had to stand strong before hoards of men (the doctors) as she defended her staff (the mainly female nurses).

She turns 75 soon and she is no longer strong. Physically that is. Mentally... I'd love to claim she still is the best story teller. Sadly she no longer is that either. Our family dinners traditionally ended with her telling us stories. Even as we got older and started sharing the wine. we looked forward to opening another bottle as she made us laugh with her crazy stories. She had a way of making a regular old joke her own. We'd believe she was telling us something that actually happened to her until the punch line. She got us every time. Endless hours sitting on the edge of our seats wondering where her new tale would take us.

Before Seinfeld introduced me to the woman with "manhands" I looked at my mother's hands in awe. When she graduated from McGill and ordered the graduates ring, she chose one from the men's catalog. They better fit her big fingers. And trust me, she was not fat in the least bit. She was a slender sexy woman, the kind that made heads turn, even from my friends. She was most likely a milf in the pre-texting days when words were words and not shortened condensed sentences.

Now her stories go around in circles, jumping from one topic to the next, and mostly repeated anecdotes we'd already heard more than once if not a dozen times.

My mother turns 75 in November and I'm not ready to witness the decline of a once strong woman.

30 Days of Shamelessness - Declare a Love for an Uncool TV Show

This is a tough one. How do I define "uncool tv show"? Like a yard sale, one man's junk is another one's treasure.

ABC After School specials made me who I am today. In part... well kinda... If I knew an After School Special was on, I raced home right away... not staying to hang out with any extra curricular activies. I was a sap for these emotionally packed mini-movies. The plot was easy to figure from the get go, but I didn't care.

I sat on the couch riveted to the tv screen with a box of tissues on stand-by. Oh, I cried every time. I was an easy target on the emotional side. And I knew I would cry me a river every episode, but that to me was the draw. The emotions. The drama. The family crisis and then the happy sappy ending.

At the end I'd be drained but satisfied. And until the next special program I'd be living by my newly acquired moral (morale?). ABC dished out and I swallowed. I was just what they hoped for. A teenager struggling with divorced parents, an alcoholic father, a new town, new school: I was a living, breathing and mostly crying ABC After School Special creators' wet dream. The sponge that would soak it all up in a gooey teary mess!

Most people avoided tear jerkers, where me, I sought them out. They were MY tornados.

I don't get many opportunities to watch TV these days. For starters I don't have access to television. I own one, but I don't have cable or satellite, and the antenna is buried under a seat trapped behind the autopilot. What can I say, sailing tools must have priority on a boat! Everything I watch is streamed via my phone from Netflix or Hulu. Unless my 1st Mate is out of town on business everything I watch is shared with him. We give each other the right to refuse anything. And that means no sappy programming and no chick flicks.

But every evening spent alone on the boat is accompanied by the likes of movies like Precious, international sub-titles and tissues (I'm sure he needs tissues when HE watches stuff without me, but his gooey mess is so different than mine. Sorry. Is that crossing the line?).

I've also promised myself an Ally McBeal retro-marathon. This show had it all: quick and snappy arguments, quirkiness, and love. Until then I watch nothing but "cool" TV shows: Rescue Me, Dexter, True Blood, Breaking Bad, Weeds...

I need a Kleenex sponsorship!

p.s. the part 2 to yesterday's story should follow tonight... fun times!