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.