Home Sweet Home

At what point in life does home no longer feel like home? When does your house become your home?

I started thinking about this on Christmas Eve. Ever since I moved out of my parents house I always go back to sleep there on Christmas Eve. My mom wants me to wake up with her there on Christmas morning. Part of me loves that - just like it always was when I was a kid. The other part of me thinks its silly. Because as soon as we wake up, we leave the house anyway. Last year for the first time I didn't go there - and I broke my mom's heart. So this year, I went back again.

I lived in the house my parents live in now for 14 years. I remember going to the lot when it was being built and watching it develop from a hole in the ground to the home I knew and loved. I remember my dad taking my sister and I to the flooring store and letting us pick any flooring in the store we wanted for our bedrooms. Looking back now, I would never let a kid do that. If they picked out something hideous (which I DID) I would steer them into a better choice. I realize now how cool it was for my dad to do that. Anyway, my room has been renovated since that day in the 80's, a few times actually. And again after I moved out, the renovations on my room began.

So, as I lie there on Christmas Eve in "my" bed, which isn't my bed anymore; In "my" room, which looks nothing like my room anymore - I was saddened to realize it no longer felt like home. It saddens me to even write this now. I guess you like to think that home will always be home. But it's not. And someday when my parents sell that house - I won't even have that. Even now when I am visiting my mom she treats me like a guest sometimes. Asking if she can get me something to drink - just being polite like that. That kills me inside. I want to yell at her and tell her I can get my own drink. But I don't - I know she's just trying to be nice. But it still hurts.

I guess on the flip side - I can appreciate that I have created my own home for myself. At one point where I live now was just my house but in time it turned into my home. I am not aware of when that transition took place. The notion that where I considered my home to be shifted from one address to another.

Being home this Christmas, I want to believe my parents house will always be what I consider home...even if its just never quite the same. As I lie here on my warm comfortable bed that I love so much I'm learning that home is more of a feeling than an address. Perhaps its the feeling of warmth, comfort and love. And you can't mail a letter to that.

Confessions of a Scrapbooker

I am a scrapbooker.  I have been for years.  I love doing it and I love the end result.  But tonight, I regret, I made an online photo book.  I feel like I need to whisper that.  So the scrapbooker in me doesn't hear.  

It's as though I am having an affair.  I fear when I get this photo book I'll love it.  

What have I done?

A Little Advice from Me to Me:

A Little Advice from Me to Me:

Dear Sara,

Guess what? Sometimes you take things for granted. Sometimes you sweat the small stuff. Sometimes you let little things bother you more than they should.

Give your head a shake.

When you're sitting at your desk, annoyed by something mundane remember the little things. Life's little miracles. Look over and see a beautiful bridge, being showered with white fluffy snowflakes as the sun sets on a river. From your desk you can turn and see this. Remember that. Remember that some people aren't blessed with the natural beauty of the world that you are. Many people don't have access to see and swim in lakes whenever they want. They can't sit in the sand or take walks along a rocky shore. You can. You live in a beautiful place and sometimes you forget that. It's the little things that turn out to be big things.

Life gave you that reminder today when you were at your desk and took these pictures. It happened when you took a second to forget about your list of "To Do's". When you forgot to look at the clock. Forgot to count down how much time you had before the clock struck five and you could race out of the room as though you'd turn into a pumpkin.

So think about that. Every so often. Okay?

Take Care, Comb your hair.

Sincerely,

Sara

Matchmaking; from a 4 year old

Single people, like myself, sometimes find themselves trying to be set up by others.  I don't think this is a bad thing.  It can be a good way to meet new people. And obviously the person introducing you thinks you have some similarities or compatibility.

   

But what does it say about you when your 4 year old niece is concerned for your future.  Should that get me worried?  Sometimes kids are smarter than we give them credit for.  Here is some superior problem solving skills from the mind of a child.  

While driving in the car one night, my niece started asking me questions.  The conversation went something like this: 

Avery: "Auntie - why do you live alone"

Me:       "What do you mean?" 

Avery: "Where is your husband?" 

Me:  "I don't have a husband" 

Avery:  "Why"  

Me:  "Because I haven't met the right person yet"

Avery:  "Why"   *oh, don't we love the infamous why's?*

Me:  "I don't know.  Maybe someday I'll meet someone and fall in love and then maybe he would be my husband." 

Avery: "Oh"  

This was followed by silence.  I knew she was processing what I'd just told her. A few minutes later she speaks up. Apparently she's solved my problem and found me a husband. 

Avery:  "You know what Auntie, you should come to my daycare at 5:00" 

Me:  "Why?" 

Avery: "Oh - because there are lots of husbands there."

Children are sweet.  You never know what is going to come out of their mouths. I think Kindergarten teachers should come together and write a book of quotes. It would be a best seller. Side note here - I just want to throw out there how annoying it is to me when people say "kind-y-garten" Like that is cute somehow.  The guy on our local radio station says that and it really grinds my gears.  I want to call him and tell him to stop.  But I don't want to come off as one of those petty, uptight people.  But deep down, maybe a part of me is petty and uptight. Well, maybe I'm only uptight when it comes to grammar.   

I really went off on a tangent there.  Back to my niece.  

This is the same kid who, the first day I picked her up from the above daycare announced this upon my arrival: 

"Hey Cathy - This is my aunt I was telling you about.  She always forgets to say 'excuse me' when she burps" 

And I'm left there standing awkwardly.  

Hi Cathy.  Nice to meet you.  

Today's Random Thought

Can someone explain training bra's to me?   What exactly are you training for?  And how does wearing one prepare you for anything?

When dirty words aren't dirty

One of my favourite things is when my mom calls me and says "Sar - I pulled a boner today"

In most households, this would be a weird thing for a mom to say. However, in my family it doesn't quite mean what you think.  Let me clarify.  My mom says that when something crazy or stupid happens to her.  Like me, my mom often finds herself in bizarre situations.  This is where the title of my blog comes from.  Because without a doubt, I am my mother's daughter. In my family no one is surprised when something crazy happens to my mom.  Likewise, they aren't surprised when they happen to me.  It's almost expected.  

So just this week I got one of my favourite calls from my mom.  She tells me she went to the gas station to fill up.  For some reason, she forgot to pull down the gas lever to get the gas to come out.  She struggled and finally went inside to ask the gas attendant for help.  When she went back to the car there was a line up of cars waiting to get gas. Feeling the pressure of anxious people, she grabbed the diesel gas nozzle instead of unleaded.  Even though the diesel nozzle doesn't fit on regular gas tanks....she jammed it in there anyway.  Someone saw her do this and pointed it out to her.  But it was too late and the tank was full.  So, she to had place her standard call to my dad, followed by a call for a tow truck.   Here's the damage: $46.00 in gas, $80.00 for the tow and $325.00 for the work on the car.  

That is just one example of my mom's "Boner Tales"  There are many and they always make us laugh.   Aside from being entertained by my mom, I am also amused by dad's reactions to these occurrences.  Or should I say lack there of.  I guess being married to my mom for 39 years has prepared him for such phone calls.  He rolls with the punches and deals with them as they come.  

When the crazy guy threw his bike at my car trying to frame me, I called my dad in a panic.  He stayed calm and encouraged me to deal with the situation.  I did and everything was fine.   No panic required.  

I remember about a month after I got my last car I was driving a friend home. When I was backing out of her driveway, I accidentally drove along her fence and scraped my car all along the side.  A few days later my dad saw the scrape. Thinking he'd be disappointed, seeing as it was a brand new car, I was prepared for him to shake head or tell me to be more careful. He didn't. All he said was "Oh well, your mother just drove into the garage the other day too". No surprises; no big deal.  

The day I locked myself out of my house in nothing but a house coat that did not fit, I had to call my dad, from the house of some stranger down the road.  He had a spare key for my house and I needed him to bring it to me.   He showed up at my house and found me sitting on the deck barely covering myself and looking like a lunatic, I'm sure.  I waited again for him to say something.  But all he did was hand me the key and say "Throw out that housecoat".   He turned around, got in the car and drove away. 

I love my mom for knowing how to laugh at herself.  She doesn't waste time with regret or stewing over "what ifs" or "should haves".  She deals with things as they come.  I love my dad for not making mountains out of mole hills and for having the patience of a saint.  

I await the next boner tale in my family.  Not sure if it will come from my mom or me....

A Dog's Eye View

Imagine you are standing in a room.  There is a door in that room. You open the door, exit the room and close the door behind you. After awhile, you open up the same door and walk back through the same doorway.  But this time....you're in a different room. 

You know what that is?  That is an elevator. To a DOG.  

Years ago my friend Lisa and I stayed at her dad's condo for a week while he went to Florida. We were there to watch his dog.  He lived really high up in the building.  Several times a day, Lisa and I took turns taking the dog outside.  It was winter, it was cold and sometimes, it was the middle of the night.   Mostly, it was annoying.   I say this as a previously spoiled dog owner. We lived in the bush with a lazy dog.   We didn't have to tie her up or pick up her poop.  

Anyway, on these many trips on the elevator with the dog, I wondered what the dog was thinking.  Did she have any concept of how high up we were? And if not, did she wonder why we always had to ride this elevator?  Though to her, it would haven't been an elevator.  It would have been the room we had to stand in for no reason each time she had to go to the bathroom.  

Dogs are smart animals.  They can do amazing things.  But to what extent do their brains process concepts?  Do they think or are they just trained to follow command and are creatures of habit and repetition?

I know my aforementioned dog was very smart.  She knew she had to get off the couch when my dad was coming.  But she also knew she could stay if it was anyone but him.  She processed that and made her decisions based on her thoughts.  

But guess what?  She also ate her own poo.  

So, how smart can she be? 

Was it Merlot?

Just yesterday I went for a nice walk down a sandy beach on Lake Huron.  I took off my shoes and walked barefoot in the lake.  It was a bizarre experience considering it was November 9th.    

Then Mother Nature drank too much wine with Father Time.  They got giddy and played Truth or Dare.   While Father Time divulged his teenage secrets, Mother Nature chose Dare and erupted with laughter.  They high-fived each other and giggled as they showered us with snow.  

So 24 hours after I walked barefoot in a lake, I was forced to dig out my mittens and boots.   

I find it troubling how people who've spent 20 years driving in the snow always forget how, come the first snow fall of the year.   Though I live only 9km away from my office, I left the house today at 8:17am, anticipating the hideous driving skills of the summer-minded folk.  I didn't get to my desk until 9:02am. 45 minutes to get to work. I calculated that's equivalent to driving 12km/hour. Not good for a person who is perpetually late.   

Welcome Winter.  

I hope Mother Nature is hungover tomorrow. 

Superman was a Super Man

I spend a large portion of my week in close proximity with someone I'll call "McD".  She is someone I didn't really know until this summer, but it is surprising how much someone can affect you when you spend a lot of time together.  

McD is a negative, hateful person.  Her life theory is to hate people until they prove her reason to like them.  She will come right out and tell this to you.  No innocent until proven guilty for this girl.  Everyone is guilty until proven innocent.  She is bossy, controlling, opinionated and not the least bit shy. There are so many times in a day I hear things come out of her mouth and I am embarrassed for her.  Not that I should be - because she clearly isn't.  

I am not saying I never complain.  I do.  But on a whole I would say I am a positive person.  I try to see the good in people and "look on the bright side" whenever I can.   Though that becomes harder and harder to do when you are surrounded by hate.  

Normally I am a person who would express my opinion or challenge someone when they say something completely moronic.  But with McD I know it would be a lost cause and a never ending battle.  I bite my tongue so many times a day I can't believe it doesn't bleed.  

I cannot imagine a life like that.  At all.  I feel sorry for her in that sense.  Sorry that so little makes her happy and so little makes her smile.  Except for herself. She thinks she's quite funny.  Apparently hate is funny.  

Trying to see the bright side, as I claimed I do, I am viewing this as a learning experience.  McD is teaching me to be tolerant and wise.  Wise about choosing my battles and tolerant in choosing not to let her affect my mood and get inside my head.  It's hard.  Trust me.  But through her I am given a reality check.  A reminder of how I want my life to be and how I choose my reactions and responses.  

The cycle of life carries on through McD.  She has a child who she will raise to think like she does.  My hope for her (but mostly for her child) is that someday, somehow, she will learn to see the beauty in life; the beauty in people and the power of positive thinking.  It is something I hope, but sadly don't see happening.  However, hope can be a beautiful thing.  Christopher Reeves once said "Once you choose hope, anything is possible".  

Rites Of Passage

As we age in life there are many milestones we pass that make us feel older. When we are young there are significant things to look forward to.  At 16 we can get our drivers license.  Or, coincidentally the year I turn 16 they changed the driving program and we could only get our G2.  So that left looking forward to G1 at 17 and then G shortly thereafter. (Unless you're Matt K and you wait until you are 28 to do this...) Anyway, at 18 you can legally vote and at 19 you can drink.  Then you turn 21 and you can drink across the river....an added bonus when you live on a border town.   At 25 car insurance goes down (so they say, but mine never did). 

I went through all of these stages and also took on a mortgage and got into mutual funds - you can't get more grown up than that.  But somehow, none of these things made me feel like an adult.  To quote Miss Britney Spears; "I'm not a girl; not yet a woman".  LOL

Until last week.   Thanksgiving - 2008.  I became a grown up.  In my mind at least. 

How, you might ask?  My sister and my mom both asked me what I was going to bring to Thanksgiving dinner.  What? Suddenly I am responsible for contributing to a family meal? No more are the days I can just show up and eat. I am now part of the process.  Very weird to me. My mom and my sister were blessed with talents in the kitchen.  It's no secret that cooking is not my forte.  But I am learning and I am trying.  So the fact that they would WANT me to contribute is pretty big.  

So my mom calls, before Thanksgiving, to ask what I was going to bring.  I told her I didn't know but that I wanted to make either a salad or vegetable dish (I have to keep things basic here).  My mom says "Oh, remember in the summer when you made that strawberry/spinach salad?"  I told her I did and got excited thinking I could make that again, until she says "Yah - don't make that"  HA - Something only a mother could say.  

You know what else?  Food is not cheap.  Making a big meal for a big family is a lot of money. It's not something I would take on myself.  I am quite content at this point to bring a little side dish.  Kudos to my mom for the many, many amazing dinners she has cooked for all of us.  I have to give a little shout out to my sister too, as she often does this and her food is always amazing.  (Way to steal those genes you little sneak) 

Last Christmas was the first time I did contribute to a meal, but I think with the frenzy of Christmas I never really thought about it.  

So, as of last week, I am officially a grown up.  Green Beans with sesame seeds and bacon was all it took for me to figure that out.  

 

Priceless

Dress $1000.00

Shoes $50.00

Hair $40.00

________________

Picture of a bride dancing with a pumpkin on her head????

PRICELESS

This is reason #1433 why I love Emmilia.

Last Saturday I was honoured to stand beside Emmilia on her wedding day. Looking back it's been 14 years of friendship and 14 years of fun. The first day I met her, I thought she was crazy. In retrospect, I am sure that is why we are still friends. Anyway, it was during the winter of grade 8. Erin and I heard a new girl moved in down the road. We were excited to meet her and make a new friend. We were going tobogganning that day and thought we'd go to her house to introduce ourselves and invite her along. She said she wanted to come with us. As Erin and I stood there in our big snow suits and boots (for those who remember, yes, mine were the big purple Sorels - that I still have to this day) We waited while Emmilia went to get her snow stuff. Out she comes in jeans and duck boots!! Jeans and Duck Boots? Who was this girl?? Does she not know what playing in the snow entails? I am sure Erin and I exchanged skeptical glances and I was pretty confident this "friendship" just wasn't meant to be.

It's funny how when you're 13 you think Duck Boots are tell-tale indicators of the future.

Little did I know.

Throughout the next five years of highschool we had countless fits of laughter and adventures together. I have fond memories of riding around town in her gigantic old suburban, fishing trips with her dad, semi-formals, leadership conferences and so much more. In University we went separate ways, but we always stayed close. Road trips to her dorm, and all the other places she lived were always great times.

But really, it never mattered and still doesn't matter what city we are in or what we are doing. Even when we are sitting around doing nothing, Emmilia can always make me laugh. And that is what I love about her.

So, It's no surprise that 14 years after she wore jeans in the snow, I laughed right along side her while she danced with pumpkin on her head. I wouldn't have it any other way.

C'mon! You didn't think I wasn't going to do it too, did you?

Her brother did it too......And one of the groomsmen, but I didn't get a picture of him.

A letter of Thanks

Dear Person who lives near me,

I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your internet with me. I've calculated that you've saved me over $300.00. If I knew who you were, or where you were, I'd properly thank you. I might even bake you some cookies or something.

If there is anything I can do for you, like share my cable, let me know. I'm "nice" like that too.

Sincerely,

Sara

Ode to Doogie

Remember how at the end of every episode of Doogie Howser he would turn on his computer and write this insightful one-liner summarizing his day and the life lesson learned?  

I wish I was cool enough to do that.   

I also wish I had a little italian friend named Vinnie that would randomly climb through my window to visit me.   Just kidding. 

Ode To Maya

There are two famous women in life that I just absolutely love. Well, three...but everyone loves Oprah, so I am not including her here. Loving Oprah is just a given. Anyway, my thoughts here today are of Dr. Maya Angelou. I randomly came across a quote of hers today and it brought a smile to my face.

Anyone who watches Oprah knows her deep love for this woman. She speaks so highly of her and in great awe. I am not sure if it was Oprah that got me into her in the first place. It's quite possible. Either way, I too, am in awe of this woman. Her life story is beyond incredible and her work can leave you speechless. I can't begin to get into details here because I wouldn't do her justice.

So you can imagine my surprise and excitement when, two years ago, I found out that Maya was going to my old University. She was doing a talk at the school that evening. How I didn't find out about that sooner is beyond me but I was thankful to have learned of it in the first place. I called the school and found out there were only two tickets left. I bought one immediately and called as many people as I could that I thought would be available to go. Unfortunately (for them...suckers!) no one was available. Anyway, I went alone and loved every minute of it. I left there with a special feeling; like I had been touched by her presence.

Reading her work is one thing. But hearing her speak is another. Physically, I was surprised to see her. She is 6 feet tall with a deep, strong voice. She speaks like she is singing - with great flow. Actually, she did sing that night as well. She did not use paper or cue cards, yet did not miss a beat. It was powerful and beautiful. I still can't figure out how or why she ended up at a small town University in Northern Michigan. But she did and I am so thankful. (If you haven't gotten the message here...I'm trying to tell you to go and read her work.)

Today I came upon this quote she once said:

"If you only have one smile in you, give it to the people you love. Don't be surly at home, then go into the street and start grinning 'Good Morning' at total strangers"

I know this isn't the most profound poetic thing she's ever said. But it did get me thinking. I began to think about how often we take people in our life for granted. Not that I plan to go out and scowl at strangers from this point on - but I am really going to try to be conscious of where I direct my energy. As part of my job I am trained to be polite and use etiquette with customers. Do I go out of my way for strangers? Don't we all? Not that I think that's a bad quality to be polite and nice. I mean, I'm all about paying it forward and making the world a better place. But we may be quick to jump at those in our life. Take out our exhaustion or frustration on those closest to us. It's also important to remember that for people important in our life, something small and simple can make all the difference in their day. I know it can for me. A quick phone call to say hi, a short email that lets me know I was on someone's mind. Even a text message here and there is nice. I know a phone call home makes my mom so happy.

My lesson from Maya today is to treat those I love well and appreciate the good in my life. Live in the now with no regrets.

For anyone wondering, the other famous person I love is Bette Midler. I have no idea why. There is no good reason for it. I have just loved her for as long as I can remember. I know she's doing shows in Vegas right now and I would die to go to one.

An ultimate dream for me would be to drink wine and chat with Oprah, Bette and Maya. Like my own twisted episode of Sex and the City. We'd be friends for life.

Why it pays to be lazy...

More often than not, we need to learn to see the glass as half full. Which is why I am declaring that it pays to be lazy.  Tonight I found a pair of pants I forgot I own.  How cool is that??  New pants!  In a big pile of clothes on my laundry room floor, (a pile which I label, "not important - can wait until later" clothes),  I stumbled upon these pants.   And I literally did stumble on them.  I wasn't being proactive nor energetic enough to actually tackle the task of washing these clothes.  I truly did just trip over them, in a quest to find my baseball socks.  Yes, there are such things as baseball socks.  Though they are the same as my golf socks, they quite differ from my hockey socks.  Anyway, let's stay on topic here.   I equate finding my new pants as fun as finding something exciting in your old coat at the start of a new season.   How fun is it to put on last years winter coat and find money in the pocket.  I'm quite positive an organized individual does not experience this luxury - HA! I scoff at these individuals.  Look what you're missing out on!! Free money! Well, the money is about as free as the pants I found tonight are new - but humour me.   

And I don't even need to find money to get excited.  Bring on an old lip gloss and I'm elated.  

I remember years ago my family had a big garage sale.  My mom was selling all of my great uncles old clothes.   This guy buys a pair of pants for $0.50.  In an effort to, I don't know, admire the pants I guess, he held them up against him and walked around.  Wanted to make sure they fit, etc.  Well, in this charade he finds a $20.00 in the back pocket. It's too bad he did this right in front of us because he then felt obligated to give it back. Sucker.   Had he waited until he got home to just try them on, he would have profited $19.50.  Bringing me back to my main point - here is yet another example of how it would have paid to be lazy.  Literally.  

 

Pieces of me

This whole blog thing is quite new to me. I just started it last week. I got to the "About Me" part of the page and hit a road block. How do I describe myself? Who am I? I started thinking about it, but it was hard to do. I started compiling thoughts in my head over a few days. Little bits of me. While it may not be that interesting to anyone else to read - it was actually a pretty interesting little project, even just for myself.

Here's what I came up with.....

I watch Young and the Restless every day - even though it's ridiculous.
I will never make a sandwich or a bed as well as my mother.
I wouldn't order Caesars if they didn't come with pickles.
I love my MAC. I've gone Mac and I'll never go back.
I have a good imagination.
I miss my grandma's cooking.
I carry floss everywhere I go.
I cherish pictures.
I hate beer, but I wish I didn't.
I love all kinds of music, but I'm a country girl at heart.
I don't like fish or seafood. But I love tuna. Explain that.
I have an addiction to chapstick/lip gloss. Burt's Bees & MAC Lip Glass especially.
I don't like when my food touches on my plate.
I miss my cat Steve. He was my buddy.
When I go home to my parents I still expect to see my dog on the steps. It's been 5 years since she died.
Sometimes I think I trust too easily.
I loved going to summer camp when I was a kid.
I love board games.
Bonfires in the summer make me happy.
I love cheese and jam sandwiches.
I try to remember to think before I speak. It's a work in progress.
I love reading. I forever want to learn.
I wish I could wear pajamas all the time.
I am easily amused. I like that.
I am annoyed by poor grammar.
My mind often wanders.
I love going to the movies. Especially with my sister.
I miss my good hockey days; with my hockey girls (they know who they are)
I could spend hours in Shoppers Drug Mart.
I am thankful my parents and siblings are all in the same city.
I am learning to stop worrying about things I can't control. I've come a long way.
I used to have issues with anxiety and I'm thankful everyday I beat that hurdle.
I lose everything and forget things every where I go. I am never surprised when it happens.
I like plucking my eyebrows.
I long to be more organized.
I have a mysterious allergy in my mouth that doctors can't explain.
I develop deep relationships with television shows.
Steven Tyler freaks me out. A lot.
I have intense, frequent dreams. That's both good AND bad.
I want to be better at golf. I haven't given up.
I'm embarrassed I don't know where a lot of countries are on a map.
I secretly still think if I had went away for University my life would have been like Felicity's.
I love road trips.
I can't drive standard. I want to.
I love ebay.
I love waking up on Sunday mornings and reading Post Secret.
I have good friends in my life. They make me laugh and I love that.
I very rarely get my mail and I know that's weird.
From past 90210 days to present 90210 days, I've always wanted Jennie Garth's hair.
I love all things Bath and Body Works.
I started getting gray hair when I was 21.
I love how all my nieces can make me laugh.
My most productive thinking happens in the shower.

A Magical Land called Victoria Secret

Would it be socially acceptable for a random stranger to walk up to you and comment on your boobs?  No, of course not.  And no one would.  BUT - you walk through the doorway of Victoria Secret and boom - your boobs are fair game.  

There is a magical essence in that store and I love it.  

As you roam through the store, fascinated by the walls and rows of bins, colours, textures and styles, you must become slightly mesmerized.  It suddenly becomes acceptable for one of the Victoria Secret girls to talk to you about your boobs.  And it's not even weird.  

They can look at & comment on your boobs.  How is that not weird?  But it isn't.  

My first experience in that store was in Grandville, a few years ago.  The girl in the store (shall I refer to her as a V.S Fairy?) told me my bra was just 'not working for me'.  Oh? I say humbly. But she was right and she proved it.  She buzzed around the store quickly and came back with a bra (that may or may not have had a halo hovering over it).  She had me stare at myself 'before', and then again 'after' she worked her magic.  Ten minutes later I don't even bat an eye spending $69.00US on ONE bra.  Something I would NEVER do in the real world.  *Side note: This was back when the American dollar was not what it is today*

And really - who is this girl?  Why do I trust her so much.  Does she have that much training? She could be anyone.  She could be the girl from the movies last night who kicked my chair all night and annoyed me.  But give her a black outfit and a measuring tape and I believe every word she says.  

You know what I am?  A corporate dream.  A statistic.  You advertise; I buy. 

I went back to the magical place two weeks ago.  My friend was looking for a new bra and I was along for the ride.  I watched one of the fairies walk up to her and measure her - disagreeing with the size bra she chose.  Calling her out on her mistake - right in the middle of the store! Again, not weird when its happening.   Minutes later, I watch her walk right into her change room, lift up her shirt and pull on the clasp at the back.  It was then I realized the power these fairies have.  I could never imagine a complete stranger doing that to me.  Anywhere else and you would have them arrested.  

I was wearing uncomfortable shoes that day and my feet were really sore.  I jumped at the chance to sit on a chair in the store that was conveniently located between two change rooms.  I sat and listened to some funny conversations and watched some fairies work their magic.  I was pleasantly amused.  

I listened to one comment to a woman on her 'top heavy frame', to which she defensively announced that she had seven kids.  The fairy would sneak into her change room and comment on all the different bras she tried on.  As though the woman said; "Hey- I am going to take off my clothes, then you come in here and judge me"  I didn't see the 'before' and 'after' show - but I could tell this mother was quite pleased with her results.  Frankly, I think the fairy should have sprinkled her with a wand and given her a bra for free.  Simply for pumping out seven kids - but that's just my opinion. 

Anyway, we left the store, my friend with her new bra in hand,  walked back through the magical doorway and into to the real world; where the only stranger who talks to me about my boobs is wearing a white coat and a stethoscope.  

Gold Locks searching for their Goldilocks

Here’s what happens when you have two friends with two different reaction modes. One may tend to be a little over-reactive while the other may be a little under-reactive (hi, that's me).

Here's how it went down:

We are on a road trip. We are in Amy’s new car and she is driving. Suddenly a light appears on the dash. We don’t know what it means. My reaction? Oh well. A light is on now. I don’t even give it a second thought. I know I would get myself out of a lot of pickles in life if I learned to think ahead, rather than my usual “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it” attitude. But that’s just me and I’ve accepted that.

Anyway, Amy starts to panic, knowing this light has appeared to indicate something is wrong. She is right. I look in the car manual and the book instructs us to “pull over when it is safe to do so” because there is a problem with a tire. We happen to be driving by a small town and pull in. We both are well aware that we are clueless when it comes to cars. I try to calm Amy down by assuring her we’ll change this tire if we need to. She rightfully mocked me by saying “Yah, WERE going to change a tire” and I laugh.

We decide we need to check the tire pressure. We roll through the town and Amy thinks out loud that she wonders “Where the Tire Pressure Store Is”. Tire Pressure Store - HA. We pull into the gas station and agree we need to find out if they have air. As we head into the store we hesitate as we don’t know what to say when we get in. We can’t just say “Hi - do you have air?”. Or, as Amy stated “So, do you sell pressure?” Granted, we may not have been thinking straight at this point. We are both smart people, I swear. I was over-tired and feeling giddy and she was in panic mode. Keep that in mind.

I don’t know how we phrased it but the gas attendant directed us to the air machine in the parking lot. We both pretended to see it - but later admitted we didn't see it. We were looking at the pay phone. He let us borrow the little gadget that checks the tire pressure. Amy knew how to check tire pressure (She’s from Goulais) Then she discovered a big nail in the tire that we ran over. We can hear the air coming out of the tire, so we knew it was bad. We decide we have to really fill the tire with air while we resolve this problem to prevent it from going completely flat. We keep pumping the air in - then checking the pressure. Which wasn’t changing. “Boy - this sure takes a long time” we both agree and take turns putting the air in.

It’s only then the gas guy comes over and tells us we haven’t actually turned the air machine on. Wow. That’s embarrassing. As it turns out - it doesn't take long to fill a tire.










We decided to go to the 24 hour Walmart and buy a tire repair kit. We were told by Amy’s dad that our best route would be to plug the hole. There is even a tire hole plugging kit. Who knew? I decide we should buy a flashlight too (That’s what us city kids think of). We proceed to the check out line to pay for our items. That's when the tears started. I won't say who it was, but well...it wasn't me.

Next problem - who is going to do this repair? We both crack up at my suggestion to simply open our hood. I’m confident someone will come and help us then. “Hi, We need help. Yes, our hood is up - but that was just a trick. Please fix our tire.” I volunteer to wander around to recruit people. I was standing in a different gas station when I looked out the window and see someone crying again. I won't say who it was, but again - not me.

Long story short - a very nice man did come and help us. Even with his children waiting patiently in the car. The man refused to take money from us. All he asked is that we pay it forward. I have no doubt we will.

It’s funny how life sometimes magnifies who we are as people. Amy and I are a good pair. While I am often too laid back, she may be a little tense (compared to me anyway). She is too far right and I am too far left. We meet in the middle. Not too hot, not too cold....we are all on the quest for what is ‘just right’. Just like Goldilocks.

P.S. Thinking about this today, I remember that this isn’t the first time Amy and I had a car adventure together. Eleven years ago she was with me when I drove into a Mike’s Mart. Yes, I said INTO a Mike’s Mart. But that’s another story for another day. Stay tuned.