Why do I feel like I know you?

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I wish I were certain.  I can’t quite put my finger on it.  I’ve only just shaken hands with you, shared pleasantries, but there is more to you.    I feel a depth, like looking into a memory, but I just can’t place you.  There is a sudden feeling of kinship and camaraderie and I am immediately at ease.  We fall into a conversation like we have been doing that very thing for years.  I wish I were prepared for this.

We spend time together, we laugh like old friends and we share inside jokes.  Your smile engages me.  I am unable to pull my eyes from yours.  I wish I were able to pinpoint the moment you crept into my heart – the moment that I saw you differently and couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I want to realize that moment and hold onto it for all eternity.  My mind whirls with thoughts of where we could be now had we had these moments so many years ago.

My days are not consumed with thoughts of you, but you insinuate yourself into random moments of my day and I can’t help but smile. There is an easiness about being around you.  Your laughter is infectious to me.  The twinkle in your eyes warms me.  I am myself with you.

I wish I were able to quell this feeling.  I wish I were able to push you to the recesses of my thoughts, but you invade my reality.  You stir my feelings and you haunt my desires.

How easy it would be to fall into your arms and feel safe there.  How easy it would be to get lost in your eyes and float on the sound of your laughter.  How easy it would be to want to never let you go.

How I wish I were able to include you in my forever.

The call is coming from inside the house

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I was 12 years old when I saw the movie “The Changeling”.  True to its title, it altered some metaphysical part of my being.  I was a relatively normal child, as normal as kids could be in the 70′s and 80′s, but I still remember my reaction to that movie and the subsequent “change” that happened in me.  I knew from the moment that story ended that I would never be the same.  I didn’t sleep in my own bed for at least three days, and I vowed I would never play with that same tri-coloured rubber ball again.  To this day, it still haunts me to see the Pepsi emblem. It reminds me of the horror I felt watching those scenes of a bouncing ball take on a life of its own and subject George C. Scott to interminable terror.

If I were a recurring patient at a psychiatrist’s office (which I am not), I undoubtedly would be told that the reason I prefer a shower to a bath was a direct result of Russell Hunter’s tale of a haunted house and the fury that a spirit could unleash on living, breathing human beings.  If I pause for a moment to put myself back into that mind space, I can still hear that young, disabled boy beating on the sides of that claw-footed bathtub as he was drowned by his father.

This is the feeling that a good horror movie is meant to elicit from its viewers.  That lingering terror, although irrational, invades the deepest reaches of our psyche and makes us second guess relatively commonplace parts of our existence.  Human beings, by nature, are fundamentally flawed, and we seek the terror in the shadows.  The horror genre only adds fuel to that fire.

Although Carol Kane starred in “When A Stranger Calls” in 1979, I did not see that movie until years after I had moved on from The Changeling.  Regrettably, for me, I watched that madness on a big screen during my tenable years as a babysitter!!   I took my role as guardian very seriously, but nearly jumped out of my skin each time the phone rang while the children I had sworn to protect were in the next room.

As the years have unfolded, I have been able to detach the parallels of movie horrors from my own perception of reality.  Although my current basement resembles something akin to the “Red Room” in the Amityville Horror, I nonetheless regard the creativity of the horror film genre as it is mean to be portrayed. It is nothing more than scary entertainment.

I do believe in spirits, but I am not going to be consumed by the notion that they hold any ill will towards me, nor are they bent on doing me bodily harm.  There are no ghost writings on my walls, nor do I hear evil voices or things that go bump in the night (except the squirrels in my attic).   The only admission I will make is that I will NEVER have a Ouija board in my house – EVER.   Even though I don’t believe I will come to any harm from spirits lingering in between worlds, I am not going to entertain the chance that I open a portal and tempt  a forbidden soul with the vestigial energy contained in that board.  (Watch the movie Witchboard and you’ll understand my paranoia)

What movies left a lingering impression on you when you were young and vulnerable?

The circle of a relationship, not the chain of command

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The family resort at which I have been employed for many years has just closed again after another successful season.  If I were to describe it, I would tell you to picture Kellerman’s from Dirty Dancing,  and that is where I work (sans Patrick Swayze and the watermelons!)

I began working there in 1986 and after leaving and coming back, and leaving and coming back, I have been there consistently for the last 10 years.  A lot has changed in the economy and much has changed in terms of the expectations of guests, but the relationship between staff and management remains the one constant that you can take to the bank.

Creating a work environment that everyone can thrive in is the key to a successful business.  Not only do we put great pride in creating a summer experience for our guests that they will cherish for years to come, but we put the same effort into making the staff experience a summer that they will never forget.  The chain of command still exists, but we are focused on harnessing the positive energy and feedback we get from creating that circle of a relationship and leaving the hierarchy of those chains of command to less fortunate businesses that just don’t get it.

It’s like living a continual episode of Undercover Boss, but we are never under cover.  We embrace our employees and engage them in dialogue. We value their input from a perspective that we may never be fortunate enough to have and make them feel like they are part of the progression. And in turn, we gain the true respect of those summer employees because they not only feel like a part of the process, but they are able to have their own experience within that ever-moving mechanism.

The true value of any business is its employees, and the more energized and interactive they are, the more true success you will obtain from both sides of the work experience.  I truly appreciate everyone I have had the pleasure to have had work with me, not for me, and look forward to many more years of our staff and guest experiences being unparalleled.

Chasing the dream

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Do you ever take a moment to ask yourself if you are really doing what you want to?  Are you living the dream?

Nine to five, Monday through Friday.  This is the reality for so many us…..toiling, sweating, dealing with people we would not wish on even the worst of our enemies, and for what?  Sure, the steady pay cheque each second Friday is somewhat rewarding and it pays the bills.  But are we missing a very important piece of the bigger puzzle?

So often we tread through life in a direction that we never thought we would be heading.  Circumstances and obligations seem to navigate our course and we lose sight of the things that are most important – our dreams.  Reality has a way of shifting those dreams to the back burner and we are left knowing that what we truly desire simmers on low heat and never gets a chance to reach a full boil.

Please don’t misinterpret my musings and think that I am not appreciative of my job, my co-workers and my current career.  That is not the emotion I wish to convey or the drive behind my words.  But there is a piece of my puzzle that I have yet to obtain, and a dream unrealized is a dream worth fighting for.

I have many passions.  Some stave themselves from parading in the forefront of my reality and some seep into my subconscious to give me subtle reminders that they are awaiting recognition.  Some have been recently awakened and welcome you each time you read my thoughts on this blog site.  But there are still dreams to be realized.

The cafe awaits…..and as my soups come to a boil on the stove and my cakes are in the bakery counter, I will be the one writing in the corner at the small table with the laptop and the glass of red wine.  See you there!

Tame the drive, not the driver

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I need to put the “drive” back in my drive.   Since the tender age of 17 when I first tested the waters of being behind the wheel of a vehicle, I always had a manual transmission – it has defined my driving experience. Although it was a rocky beginning, we made our way through the rough patches and have forged a bond that is unparalleled.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not going to go beyond my comfort zone and hop into the driver’s seat of a Formula 1 race car yet (although I do know someone who has just done that and loved it!!), but I need to feel like I am in control when I am commanding the power of a vehicle, and shifting gears gives me that sense of efficacy that I lack when putting an automatic transmission into drive and mundanely steering through the back roads.  These roads are meant for driving, and to me, and others who have voiced their opinion, driving an automatic transmission is just aiming.  If you want to really know your vehicle, know how it loves to hug curves, drop from fifth gear to third to pass the chump  law abiding citizen in front of you, that manual transmission is the way to your best driving experience.

The decision to shift away from the only driving I’d ever really known was driven by my choice in vehicles.  (please note the puns in that sentence, I worked hard on those).  At the time I was ready to lease my next four-wheeled experience, I was mad for the Honda CR-V.  I loved every thing about it.  But there was one major drawback.  It only came in automatic transmission.  It was decision that weighed heavily on me, and it took every fibre of my being to make the choice to move away from seamlessly shifting those gears by just listening to the advice of my engine to pushing a stick into drive and moving the steering wheel back and forth.  It is a decision I have come to regret.

Although my lease is only at the halfway point, my go-to guy at Honda is busily looking for a buy out for my CR-V so I am able to get back into a car I can actually drive – not just a vehicle that I can steer and get myself from A to B.  I want to be on the highway again and feel that engine cry for me to shift it from fourth to fifth as those tires burn up some asphalt.

Learning how to drive a stick-shift gave me a sense of freedom that I didn’t realize I had until long after I learned how to master the smooth shifting of those gears.  I could drive any motor vehicle built to grace the pavement.  As a teen, I worked for a property maintenance company that relied on an old pick-up truck as they forged their way into a growing business in cottage country.  The truck had a manual transmission – three on the tree – and I was one of the only staff members that had a comfort level with the truck to be able to drive it.  I took great pride in the fact that I could command any vehicle that I was afforded the luxury to drive, and knowing the subtleties of that manual engine gave me a sense of power.

Never again will I make a decision based on looks and my inability to fight for what I truly want.  My ride has to challenge me.  It has to demand that I put forth the same effort as it does so we may both enjoy the ride from first to fifth.

So jump in the driver’s seat and weigh in – automatic or standard?

To Kindle, or not to Kindle. That is the question.

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It’s a quandary that many find themselves faced with.  And it could be a Kindle, a Kobo, a Nook, a Sony Touch, an iPad – regardless of the name, the idea is synonymous with a traitor in the minds of the true book worms.  For some the feel of a book or the smell of ink on aging pages will never be replaced.  The tender grip on the binding, the gentle turning of a page is reminiscent of reading.  But for those that have crossed the line e-readers are the new menu of the literary four-course meal.

I made my decision after much deep thought and consideration for the tattered pages I used to turn.  With my new Kindle in hand, I would embark on my quest for literary comfort in the evening and end that journey in the wee hours of the morning.  In the beginning, I felt like I was committing a mutiny of sorts.  I was jumping the library ship of weathered novels and losing myself in the churning maelstrom of technology.  But after choking on the first few mouthfuls of the sea of electric words, the waters calmed and no longer did I yearn for the safe confines of that library or the feel of leafing through the pages of those books.  I had found my happy medium.

I live in a very small house and as the collection of books grew larger, the breadth and depth of my sanity dwindled before my eyes.  Had I been more adventurous, perhaps those realms of pages could have been turned into some sort of furniture, or art nouveau.  Sufficed to say, the books were beginning to take up more space than the occupants, and since the incumbents pay the mortgage, the books lost the battle.

I must admit, I have a deeper affection for my Kindle than I thought possible.  Being snowed in no longer carries the same panic-stricken feeling since I can download a book in seconds on the Whispernet.  And I can do that invariably from anywhere.  No longer do I have to pack 10 books to take on a trip since I have my own library now at my fingertips.  And never again will I dread a power outage (as long as my Kindle is charged before the damned power goes out) because I have also purchased the clip on reading light, which is a brilliant addition to my reading freedom!

Time to close up the office for the day and go read the newest Dianne Gray novel on my Kindle!!

Kindle, or book?   Let me know what you think…….

Children left unattended will be given an espresso and a puppy (Weekly writing challenge)

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The sign is distinct, yet tactful.  A similar sign adorns the pillars in the dining room of the family resort at which I am employed and is a subtle reminder to parents that they are responsible for their children’s behaviour or the consequences could be dire.  To my knowledge, we have never given away a puppy or offered a child a libation of the purest caffeine, but the impending threat is still felt within those walls.

The idiom “children should be seen and not heard” was a popular string of words when I was rapidly growing through my childhood.  Back in those days, and I may be slightly showing my age, we respected our parents wishes.  We didn’t put our elbows on the table during meals, we didn’t talk with our mouths full and we wouldn’t even entertain the idea of leaving the family dinner table without being excused.  Sadly, (or not, depending on how you look at it) I would have never been a candidate for the espresso or the free puppy.

I write this post with mixed emotions.

Kids learn by doing.  Experience incorporates more of a lesson than words can ever teach.  If they never have the opportunity to encounter culture and fine dining, they may never learn to be cultured or understand how to act in a situation that is far removed from the “norm”.   But parents need to know when the child is ready for that learning curve.  Kids need worldly experience, however those learning moments must be punctuated by behavioural corrections, if necessary. Tackling that battle at too young an age will only frustrate the child, as well as the surrounding crowd.  When they are at an age that they don’t fully comprehend what is expected of them, they are bound to lash out. Therein lies the rub.

Adults that wish to experience exquisite meals enhanced by vintage wines and ambiance don’t aspire to have that savoir-faire tarnished by young diners that have not had the opportunity to learn the etiquette required to frequent such an establishment.  I would not ever deny a child an opportunity to learn from such a dining experience, but perhaps there is a happy medium.

The same can be said for any cultural undertaking.  Although children need exposure to all of life’s mysteries, there needs to be a divide between the right time and the right place.  And maybe more importantly, the right attitude towards that broadening experience.  Yes, children need to learn, but not at the expense of others attempting to allow themselves that rare moment that they are able to steal precious seconds of escape from their day-to-day reality.

Give children the benefit of cultural awareness, but also of situational awareness.  They may not be able to define the lesson they are learning, but it will serve them well into their adult lives.  Take them to a fine dining restaurant.  Take them to the museum.  But take them when it is more appropriate for younger people to frequent those particular venues while they are still in the learning stages of their development.  They will still gain the much required knowledge to take forward into their teen and adult years, but they will still show the respect and allow the freedom for adults to thrive in an atmosphere that is designed for a crowd that is over a certain age.

Let the children learn in rich and vivid detail, but also let them learn the boundaries and obstacles that are held within the confines of the rules of etiquette.   There is a lesson is everything we do – and maybe dining with a toddler at Nobu at 7:00 pm is not the lesson that the pre-schooler needs to learn at that particular moment of their developmental stage.   Respect for children’s knowledge is accepted and encouraged.  Respect for an adult’s sanctuary is priceless.

Forget the door – look for the window

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I am a big fan of old musicals and one of my favorites is The Sound of Music.  There is a line in that show that has always resonated within me – “Wherever God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window”.

So many times we become obsessed with that closed door.  We torture ourselves to find the reason the door closed in the first place without even thinking that another portal may have opened for us to venture into.  We spend countless minutes and hours wondering what would have happened had that door remained open when the opportunity for a new adventure sits in plain sight with unlimited access.

Having that door close is not an ending.  Although the task of finding another threshold is daunting, we need to grasp the possibility that an alternate passageway is available to us, and we need to seize the opportunity to climb through that window. We need to view that window as a new beginning.

Doors close for a reason.  And that reason exists as much as the reason for that window to open.  Life is presented to us as a menu of choices.  You can choose to bang on that closed door until your knuckles bleed, but you can also decide that perhaps the open window is far more inviting once you realize its potential.

Moving beyond that closed door may be difficult, but if you give that open window a chance, you may find that the space beyond those broadening panes of glass may provide more of a panorama than that door ever could.  Embrace the possibility of change.  Those inviting window panes may hold the key to something you never thought possible.

See your world from a different perspective.  Sometimes we need to see our existence beyond the confines to which we have become accustomed and allow ourselves a completely different view.

Taking inventory of your assets

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In this ever-changing economy, we all take stock of the value we have in our midst.   If we are lucky enough to have a portfolio or own a home, these things become more valuable in this rapidly evolving conundrum we call life.  Interest rates undulate like the sky when it is littered with the phenomenon of Northern Lights and nothing is certain.

Taking inventory of my assets takes on an entirely new meaning when tragedy befalls our community.   A horrific two car accident took the life of a woman and sent three others to hospital today.  As I was driving home from a shopping day with good friends, my route was diverted to back roads to allow the rescue teams to diligently put their skills to work – to control the scene and save as many lives as possible.

Because we live in such a small area, the chances of one of my loved ones being in or near that accident increases exponentially.  My fingers began rapidly pressing the numbers I have in my favorites list to take stock of the assets I have in my life – my family and my friends.  I know I am not the only person that has this urgent need to hear those familiar voices on the other end of the phone and knowing that they are safe brings an immeasurable amount of relief.

These are the assets that have more worth than any home I will own.  Their value in my life far outweighs any 401K that I could enrich and the benefit I get from having them in my life exceeds any investments to which I may contribute.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the family that lost a valued asset in their lives today, and I can only hope the other victims survive this horrible event.   It is unfortunate that a catastrophe such as this serves as such a glaring reminder to hold those close to you even closer.

Too much information – aka “The Overshare”

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I feel compelled to talk about these people.  You know the ones that will tell you every single detail of things that a) you probably don’t want to know, b) have absolutely nothing to do with you in the first place or c) will completely gross you out.  They’ll tell you in fantastic detail about their bowel movements, the texture and velocity of their projectile vomit, their sexual escapades (including dismounts), or a wealth of other subjects that you probably have no desire to hear.  And now, with the joys of social media, everyone can read it on Facebook or Twitter!!

There are some insights into the human psyche that the masses are not meant to know, nor do they need to know.   What has been heard, cannot be unheard and what has been seen, cannot be unseen. We are simply unable to forget what has just been written or uttered, perhaps because the over share had such a perverse effect on our ocular nerves or ear canals that parts of our brain cells are slowly mutating.  Either way, that information will probably take up precious space in our frontal lobe and infect some fleeting moments reserved for day-dreaming.  You don’t want to think about them, but they seep into your thoughts and burn your brain like a syringe full of battery acid.

To these people…..I beg you, please think about what you are saying and ask yourself…..is this too much information??  Does this person really need to know about my infectious and possibly gangrenous warts?  Unless you are sexually involved with this person, chances are the answer is a resounding “NO”.  While your verbiage continues to spill out of your mouth without being filtered, we will inevitably be the one’s smiling and nodding while your mouth is making the motions of talking. We have just switched gears, completely tuned out what you are saying and are really not listening to you in the slightest.  Sorry, but it’s true.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love keeping in touch with people and getting caught up on the latest gossip, but there are rules and limitations to what you should share.  Be aware of the unwritten rules of dispensing unwanted information.  Take heed of the effect that stepping beyond those boundaries will have on the unsuspecting person on the receiving end and limit your banter to things that will potentially be of interest to both parties.

Have you ever fallen victim to over-sharing your thoughts?