Starting the morning on the right four feet

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I wake up the same way each morning.  In the lighter moments of my sleep, when dawn pours its light into my curtain-free windows to caress my eyelids, four paws stealthily creep up to the side of my bed.  A long furry nose rests itself on the bed and two large brown stare at me until I crack open one eye to acknowledge her presence.   The tail wags and the rest of the body jumps up onto the bed to assume her spot in the window.

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She is intelligent enough to know that seeing only one eyeball means there are still snooze buttons to be utilized and she will participate in the morning naps as well.  This morning she curled into a ball at the end of the bed and, like a good dog, quickly fell into slumber.

I awoke to the sound of her tail hitting the bed.  I opened that single eyelid again, for fear of beginning our morning too early, to find that she was still sound asleep and apparently having a very happy dream.  I am a morning person and usually begin my day in a good mood.  It’s nice to know my puppy does the same thing.

 

The me that is me

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sunrise-18a

The sun peeks into my room at dawn,

and I greet it with a smile.

The morning brings the songs of life

and I do nothing but listen for a while.

I smile knowing that all is right

as I prepare to greet the day.

I feel like I am where I should be,

sadness and happiness equally weigh.

Every part of my life right now

is exactly what it should be.

I wouldn’t change a single thing

for these moments have brought me to me.

I have loved and lost and cried my tears,

my heart has been broken before.

But mending those breaks only fueled my fire,

left me stronger and wanting more.

 I know what I want, I know what I deserve,

and that I will never second guess.

It may be elusive and difficult to get

but I will never settle for less.

 The sun peeks into my room at dawn,

never knowing what it will see.

But I greet it every day with strength

and the confidence to believe in the me that is me.

 (image credit)

Screw it, Ray Bradbury….something GOOD this way comes

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For the first time in my life, I feel like I am in the right place at the right time.  Something good is about to happen.  It may not be news-worthy to the world but it will affect me immensely.  I feel it.  I feel it like the Earth feels the tidal pull.  I feel it like the horizon feels the sun rise being birthed from its shores.  I feel it like the night sky feels the first star burning its light into the blackness.  It’s there…..and I can almost reach out and touch it.  I just don’t know what it is.

Many things have happened to me throughout my lifetime.  Some of those things have been wonderful and some have been stored in the vault of memories titled ‘lessons’.  The culmination of all of those events has brought me to where I am now.  Because of those situations, I have gained confidence where I used to wallow in self-doubt.  I have achieved a level of comfort in who I am as a person.  And I have grasped the definition of what I want in my life.  It took me 46 years to get here but the journey was worth it.  I have finally allowed myself to be the person who was hiding in my own shadow.

shadow

(image credit)

Sure, there are moments I fall back into the secluded darkness of that shadow but those moments are fleeting.  Those junctures of time only serve to remind me of who I once was and who I have since become.  I feed on the strength I have gained.  I thrive on being the person I was meant to be and I hold fast to the lessons that each of those bumps has etched into the road that is my life.

There will always be moments that I shall forget the tenacity that has brought me to my now.   There will forever be junctures in my life that I may lose sight of the higher roads that I have taken.  But I can only take comfort in the fact that the skin I am cloaked in now fits me as it should.  I can take solace in the conviction that I have learned from each lesson I was taught.  And I can count on the feeling that I am where I need to be and that something good IS going to happen…..and it’s going to happen to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I could see the hand gestures, I would know the Italians are angry…..

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I love pizza.  Once upon a time, pizza used to love me as well.  But as the decades have marched on, my relationship with pizza has become a mere shadow of its former self.  There is a feeling more akin to a contractual obligation than the heartfelt love we once used to share.  And as much as I continue to love pizza, its feelings for me still leave my heart (and my abdomen) feeling enlarged, but in a bad way.

In my quest to become healthy, I have been scouring the internet for recipes that omit the culprits responsible for wreaking havoc in my over-forty year old body.  Contrary to my belief twenty years ago, bread is not my friend.  That knowledge, combined with my love for pizza, nearly brought me to my knees.

And then I heard something in the distance.  I put my hand to my ear.  It was quiet at first, almost non-existent, but then it became louder and more distinct.  It was the angels singing….and they were holding pizza!  It was like coming home…only to no home I had ever known.  I was just taking a slice out of my oven and I knew.  I was like….magic.  Okay, so the last couple of lines slightly resemble dialogue from Sleepless in Seattle, but you get the idea…..

This “pizza” recipe is brilliant.  It has no yeast, no flour and no way of making someone avoiding bread be anything less than ecstatic.  And the taste was delicious.  For those who have not experimented with cauliflower in any way, now is your chance.  Had I not made this pizza myself, I would never have guessed it was made with cauliflower.  Here is a photo of the result and below is the recipe I found on Pinterest, with a few modifications.

cauliflower pizza

 1 cup riced cauliflower, 3 cups mozzarella, divided, 1 teaspoon dried oregano, 1/2 teaspoon garlic salt, 1 teaspoon crushed garlic, 1 egg, olive oil, mushrooms, artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes.

Preparation:

Pulse one head of chopped cauliflower into chunks in a food processor until it looks like grain. Microwave the cauliflower for 8 minutes.  (I don’t own a microwave so I heated some olive oil in a pan, heated the cauliflower to medium heat, covered the pan and reduced the heat until cooked.)

In a medium bowl, stir together 1 cup riced cauliflower, 1 1/2 cups mozzarella, oregano, garlic salt, garlic, and egg. Spray a cookie sheet with cooking spray. Pat mixture out into a 9-inch circle. Brush with olive oil. Bake the crust at 450° for 15 minutes.

Top the pizza with 1 1/2 cups mozzarella, mushrooms, artichokes, and sun-dried tomatoes. (I also added parmesan cheese) Broil 3-4 minutes or until cheese melts.  I’m sure there are a multitude of toppings….including bacon….that you can add to this pizza and be completely happy with the result.

Pizza and I have rekindled our romance, on my terms, and love each other once again.  Mangia…. and enjoy.

Sometimes you just want to be the biggest loser

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After many months of prolonging the inevitable torture, I am finally ready to admit it is time to be serious and get myself into summer-shape.  And by summer-shape, I don’t mean round.

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(image credit)

It’s time to hold myself accountable for those invisible pounds that crept into my room at night and methodically attached themselves to parts of my body whilst I slumbered.  My wardrobe has begun to mock me while threatening to abandon ship.  It’s time to get a buddy and make the goal a reality.  It’s time to put the spring back in my step instead of breaking the diving board.  It’s time to get back what I’ve lost.  No, wait.  It’s time to lose….what I….got back.  Now I’m confused.

A few years ago, I went on a very noble quest to get healthy.  And that I did.  I diligently tracked my food choices and the only processed food I ate was food I had processed myself.  There was no bread involved, nothing packaged and nothing I couldn’t pronounce.  I simply ate whole, natural food and at the end of my journey I had lost fifty pounds and felt amazing.

As reality is wont to do, it came stomping in and replaced my determination with dejection.   It exchanged my willpower with weakness and it magically turned me into a shape-shifter.  I went from healthy and happy to fleshy and faking it without even putting up a fight.

Well, the gloves are back on.  I remember what it felt like to be so proud of my accomplishment.  I recall how wonderful I felt being so healthy and I wish that for myself again.  Since I began my first journey on May 1st, I shall do the same again this year.  The lemons will be stocked, the spices abundant and the determination back and in high gear.

Cooking has always been a passion so now I shall choose a much more intelligent selection of ingredients before I lift the “mystery box” and delve into the long-lost world of cooking with the right food.  I may not win a million dollars at the end of my arduous journey but I will be The Biggest Loser….or the smallest loser…..why is this so confusing??

 

 

 

More than just brush strokes on a piece of wood

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I had forgotten

that freedom of imagination

was the best part of being a kid.

Time has marched on,

but memories of childhood still linger.

Tears were shed and wiped,

but the laughter still echoes

in the hallways of my mind.

A piece of wood,

a few hours of shared time by siblings

and memories captured

on a cedar shingle.

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These are the memories

I never want to lose.

The days of innocence,

painted on wood,

frozen in time.

The wind beneath his wings – fiction

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Da-Vinci-glider

His ambition was unwavering and his dream was simple.  He wanted to fly.  And not by way of a commercial pilot’s license, he wanted to soar like a bird and feel the wind on his face.

He had studied Da Vinci’s sketches and the logic behind his contraption was irrefutably genius.  He set out to recreate Da Vinci’s brilliant apparatus and after a great deal of toiling and more than a few expletives he was able to stand back and appreciate all of his efforts.  It was finished.  It was brilliant.  It was ready for its first test.

After his laborious journey to bring Leonardo’s masterpiece to life, he intuitively knew he must wait until morning.  He wanted to be mentally and physically prepared for what would happen next and he knew a good night’s sleep would help him be at his best.

He looked up to the ceiling and yelled, seemingly to himself, “Get a good rest tonight.  Tomorrow, we fly.”

Morning came and the weather was perfect.  The sky was clear and the breeze guaranteed a splendid baptism into the world of flight.  He climbed the stairs to the attic and the sun beams peeked through the cracks in the roof.  The man in the corner of the room looked terrified.  The stranger was haggard, unkempt and the duct tape over his mouth prevented him from nourishing himself.  But even in the man’s fatigued condition, he was sure this man would still make a great test subject for the inaugural voyage.

He left his captive once again and wheeled his new gadget out onto the crest of the large hill that protected his house from unwanted visitors.  He had already created the launch ramp and after some serious effort on his part the plane was set and ready to be cut loose.

He ran back into the house with the enthusiasm of a child and dragged the man out of the attic.  The man put up a great struggle but he was no match for the willpower of the scientific mind.  Once the man had been strapped in, he viciously tore off the duct tape.  The man’s curses echoed in the valley below.  He methodically explained the steering mechanism to the man and explained what would have to happen during updrafts and downdrafts.  There was a pause in his instructions when he sadly mused that he would not be the first to test his gizmo but he was not stupid and knew there was room for error.

Once the tutorial was finished, he wished the man well and cut the umbilical cord holding the plane to the launch pad.  Gravity took over and the plane began to pick up speed.   The man’s screams could not be heard over the cacophony of the plane hurling down the launch ramp.  The loud noise of the wheels on the track stopped suddenly and the plane was in the air.  As graceful as an Eagle, the plane hovered on a gust of wind and seemed to stand perfectly still for a few seconds.

The breeze changed direction and he thought he was about to witness a magical flight.  But the plane seemed front heavy and could not maintain itself in the air.  He watched in horror as the plane did a nose drive, plummeted and crashed violently in the valley far below his house.

Reluctantly, he climbed into his ATV and drove down the long and winding path to see the carnage and sort through the wreckage.  His pilot did not survive the crash.  There were pieces of the plane he could salvage and he would begin building as soon as the light of the morning allowed him to begin.  Tonight he had another job.  Tonight he had to find himself a new pilot.

~~

Written for the Grammar Ghoul Challenge to use the above photo of Da Vinci’s sketch and the word “dream”.

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You can take the city out of the girl AND you can definitely take this girl out of the city

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As my car edged closer to the core of the city, my pulse quickened and beads of perspiration formed on my forehead.  My hands became clammy and my body began to violently reject the smog it was forced to inhale.  I had entered my nightmare.

Although I had planned well for my entry into the bustling metropolis, I had failed to mentally prepare for the barrage of overwhelming stimuli while simultaneously maneuvering my car through the streets of Toronto.  I had meticulously drawn my route to the convention centre and arrived without incident.  Fleeing the scene of the trade show, however, was an entirely different story.

I should premise this paragraph with the fact that I drive a manual transmission – a gross error in judgement when driving in an urban area. The “quiet” side street that I used to enter the underground parking was a mere memory.  The exit, entering into the maelstrom of the end-of-the-day foot traffic, was a seriously steeply-graded hill and one infused with pedestrians.  Once I had made it successfully to the top and had not made contact with any bumpers or human body parts, I was dumped into the middle of Front Street, not only in rush hour traffic, but in the hour leading up to a major league baseball game.  The pavement was a sea of relatively happy people on their way to a Blue Jays game and I was trying to regain feeling in my leg after trying not to roll back into the car behind me or plow through the pedestrians in front of me.

My calf muscle argued vehemently about the constant clutch action but I continued along the somewhat familiar route searching for the much calmer side street I had used that morning.  I put my signal on, anticipating the upcoming turn and trying to change lanes, and was met with a few honks and dirty looks.  City drivers tend to have no patience for people who have not mastered the art of “offensive driving” and are unsure of where they are going.

After what seemed like a lifetime, I made it through the winding avenues to the much more forgiving expressway.  My heart beat quieted slightly and I no longer felt like I would spontaneously combust.  It was  not until I was comfortably North of the city limits and could see parts of the Precambrian Shield that I felt like I could relax and enjoy the journey home.

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Next time, if there is a next time, I will be smart and reap the benefit of public transit to get to my destination.  My blood pressure and my calf muscles will thank me.