Before and After

I might actually bawl when it's time to release these guys.

Except they are no longer helpless little babies. They are insane squirrels living in captivity so I actually can't wait. 

SO MANY EMOTIONS!!

Free time and masochism

Just returned from glorious Muskoka, having enjoyed a solid week of total peace and quiet. 

It occurred to me that I didn't take many pictures.  Fact is I never take pictures anymore.   I became slightly obsessed with training myself to enjoy the  moments rather than try to document them as they happen.  Now this is a pretty good policy to have, but fuck me, this past year and a half has been fucking awesome AND I HAVE SO LITTLE PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE!!!

The camera. Sigh.  I am unforgivably critical of every single picture I have of myself.  I die a little inside whenever I see a picture of myself.  The captured moment spoiled by the blight that is my muffin top, pimple, closed eyes and stupid expression. 

But no more!!  

I have decided that every single picture I see of myself I will view using hindsight.  There will be a time that no matter how bad the picture is, I will absolutely look back and be tickeled as I recall the past moments. 

 

Like this one!!

 

When I first saw this picture I almost lost my nut and wallowed in self misery that age was catching up with me and I had a double chin. Then I decided to look at this picture through the eyes of 80 year old me.  80 year old me sees a picture taken right after my very first jam in my very first game with one of the top Canadian home teams.  80 year old me thinks this is a pretty awesome picture of a rare moment where I was genuinely proud of myself. 

80 year old me is waaaaay nicer. 

Whoa boy

Today I bought a fanny pack because I've become so lazy that carrying a goddamned PURSE is too much work.


For realz

Old dog, old tricks.

Yesterday during scrimmage I clotheslined a vet in the throat, an egregious penalty.  And I'm not sure what's worse-that she was on my own team or that she didn't even budge.

The story I am about to tell is 100% true......

When I was 12 years old I auditioned for the school play.    In spite of my demand that I not be given a singing role I was cast as the esteemed Dr. Frankenstien, the lead role in the very complex stage performance of Monster Madness.   My concerns about my singing role were not unnoticed and the very reasonable "compromise" that I rap my solo was made.  

This is me at the time of this debacle. I was not a popular kid.  Likable, for sure, but open to extreme ridicule at any given time.  Not in any 6th grade social position to be rapping a song.

 Anyhoo....for 3 weeks I learned to rap that fucking song.  It was soul destroying.  It was terrible.   It was literally the worst three weeks of MY ENTIRE LIFE.    Finally, I could not take anymore.  The thought of me, an overweight white kid, on stage, wearing my Dad's suit and rapping was too much and I went with the lessor of the two evils and sang my little heart out.  Did I see my sisters laugh at me from the audience because my white gloves were too big?  Yup.  Did I rip an EPIC fart in front of Trevor Kroph before I went on stage?  You bet.   The point is, I did it and I lived.



And I have NO idea why derby often reminds me of my time as a solo singing stage performer.

All the likes!

I love derby and I really dig Montreal so  naturally I'm pretty fucking excited to be playing my very first derby tournament IN Montreal!

I'm still very much at that point where I don't have a goddamned clue what I'm doing.  I just look for my teammates and hold on tight.  I still hit my own jammer out and I depend 100% on what everyone else tells me.

It doesn't matter.

I'm pumped.

So pumped I bought these...

Cause yeah, chica bomb hot shorts.

so.many.feelings

It's a pretty good thing I didn't quit the derbs in one of my greatest moments of self defeat. If I HAD quit I never would have received the greatest emails of my LIFE (2 days later, I might add). An email that literally made me burst into tears.  An email I can not stop looking at.

You guessed it!  The email telling me that I was drafted to a home team.

I'm a TRAMP!!

The excitment and confusion  was quickly replaced with utter fear.   

Fear that I need headshots which means I have to face the camera.....and smile.  ugh

Fear that the derby name I have chosen, while AWESOME is one that my children may repeat to their teachers and may NOT provide further explanation.

Fear that I have to play in front of people.  This concern is only slightly eased with the knowledge that my first half dozen games or so will be out of town, out of Province, and thankfully, out of Canada.

Fear that I'm that much closer to breaking something.

When I'm not afraid I'm overwhelmed which leads the way to my most familiar of feelz-Inadequacy.    Many of my teammates are 6ft tall or over.  And they are fit as balls.   One can deadlift 300lbs.  They all know what they are doing on the track.  I'm a shorty who, despite her greatest effort is NOT fit as balls and can only deadlift 150lbs.  Also...how the fuck do you play roller derby?!?!

Having said all of these things I am also living with a feeling I am not all too familiar with.  I'm actually PROUD of myself. 

I never gave up.

 

I gave it my best. 

And it paid off.

Hrumph

I think it's time I break up with derby.  I'm tired and old and hurty and frustrated and can't think, for the life of me WHY I'm doing it.


If derby was a boyfriend I would tell myself to dump the everloving shit out of that unhealthy relationship and never look back.

Not only that, it takes time out of my real life.  Important time like crocheting this magnificent beast while watching hours of HD Vietnam war footage.

Ugh.  February can go suck a dick

I'm just gonna leave this here.

I know it's cliche but seriously, letting go of bullshit and reservations and just getting to it might be just about the bestest, most radest thing on the planet.

Seriously.

It works out.

Back at it.

Ok.  I'm a few weeks ahead of schedule but I simply couldn't take it any longer.   I feared the longer I was offskates the greater the chance that I would never return.

So, some new gaskets for my knees, repaired toe stops and a greater awareness of my new wheels and off I went.

AND IT WAS AWESOME!

Two months off and I managed to gain a lap AND skate a full lap from a full stop in 11 seconds.


Everything is coming up Christie!


Now, if I can only learn to knit socks my life will be complete.

There is ALWAYS an upside.

Thank Jesus for Netflix marathons during times like these.

It's a real pleasure sitting on the couch with these guys.

Only four more weeks!

All the sad feelzz

Ah boy.


I should have known that my sprain was worse than I led myself to believe.  I have been offskates now for 5 weeks.  A meniscus tear equals another 6 weeks off skates and no gardening..  Instead of taking this time to  foster relationships, read and give myself pedicures I have decided to make paper beads.  Which is great on account of the fact that I have absolutely NO use for the million paper beads I have made.  Sure my house reaks of polyeurathan and I'm pretty sure the kids are now addicted to solvants but hey, my hands are busy AND I made this amazing bead drying rack out of garbage I found in my shed.  I'm so clever!

So obviously I'm losing it.


Yeah, less bead making and more fostering relationships, pedicures, reading and filling my derby time with something equally rad.  


But jesus...do I ever miss my skates.  And fuck me...I was so goddamned close.

Sweet, sweet vacation

I knew that new wheels + loosened trucks could potentially mean trouble.   I shouldn't have been surprised that the end result was xrays.

The good news is that nothing was broken and that this facilitated a diagnosis of a minor concussion sustained the week before.   The bad news is that if the swelling doesn't go down I will have to have my knee drained...which is pretty much the creepiest thing I have ever heard.  

Anyway...this has put a bit of a wrinkle in my holiday plans as I had earmarked this week as a working holiday.  Many things I have neglected due to my new "don't give a shit about the little things" attitude.   My yard is baaaad...like I'm surprised they haven't called the city on me.   Long story short,  I have done exactly nothing but receive breakfast in bed and plow through The Mindy Project.  Tis only Tuesday, afterall.  Still have many days to catch up.  Until then I'm leaving it to the paid professionals.

And then?   Saturday?  MUSKOKA!!!! 

A glorious week away from it all.  Where a mere 30 feet separates me  from the deck and the lake.   Muskoka is my most bestest favouritist place to go.  Ever.  For realzies.   Quiet.  Lake.  Chocolate for breakfast.  Reading.  And most importantly....relaxing and recharging.


I might just explode.

The only downside of course is that I'm missing out on two weeks of training and a week of practice though I wont miss being forced to be a jammer, hammering her way between 5 vets who barely feel the hits.  I'm kinda hoping that next week I am bitten by a radioactive spider, allowing me to acquire super strength.

But I'm not optimistic.

*scowl*

This is kind of what Wednesday night league practices are like for me..

Anyhoo...I'm off tonight as I managed to smash my head into the rink on Monday's practice.  So I'm dealing with some mobility issues with my neck and I'm eating Advil.   I'm pissy and moody and sore and DERBY IS THE WORST!!ELEVENTY!!.  Naturally I've decided to bail on minimums testing again.  I want another FreshMeat session.  I am not prepared for the full league.

 
It's scary.
It's hurty.
It takes time away from my family.
It takes time away from my friends.
It makes long term dating almost impossible.  

And bruises like this make a 9 to 5 desk job VERY uncomfortable

I think that if I were younger and had a lot less going on I could manage.  But league means even more of a time commitment.   I don't know if I can/want to make that much more of a commitment.


*sigh*

On the other hand...


It makes my heart happy.
It clears my brain.
It sometimes makes me proud of myself.
I really enjoy the folks I practice with.
I really really love that feeling of FINALLY figuring out a skill.
I car Karaoke the entire ride home.
It might be the one of the best things I have done just for myself just because I could.


GAHHHH!!!!!!   Where is my life coach?!!?!?

Oh those glorious wins.

Ok.  Failing minimums is not exactly a win.   But it was for me.

This is the test.

http://wftda.com/resources/wftda-minimum-skill-requirements.pdf

Now, the 27 laps in 5 minutes is for Charter so us Freshmeat are only expected to get 25.

The first round of Freshmeat I passed all derby skills like pack work, hits, jumps which was pretty rad.....but I may have blown every skating skill (remember, I had never worn skates before)

This time?   The only things holding me back were 1.5 laps (bout 288 feet) , some sharking and those goddamned pylons I had to weave through.  My tstops also suck balls but I just got the feel of them and that certainly didn't break me.

AND THAT'S SO FUCKING AMAZING!!!!!!!!

My only goal this time was to finish and to improve.  Not only did I finish I shattered all of my expectations.  Not only that, the trainers have told me to challenge these minimums in a month as they are certain I can pass.

So yeah, I pretty much died of the happy and the feels.

That was fun

The other day I did four things.

1). Relinquished custody of my children
2). Got a realitor
3). Cleared out some shares
4). Vigorously looked for a kibbutz to join.


And I meant business.

Aaaaaaannd now I don't.


The good news is that my ex husband is a rock star and was overwhelmingly supportive, encouraging and sympathetic.

The bad news is that I now have a really pushy real estate agent I need to get rid of as well as really puffy eyes and a bad headache.

I don't think that kind of reaction, while certainly a long time coming, is in anyway shape or form a reasonable reaction to anything but maaaybe a Zombie Apocalypse.   And it's pretty much the shittiest feeling in the world.  Afterall, losing all hope, even if for only a day or two guts ya.


That was a really aggressive reminder that I NEED  to start taking care of myself, always.


What better way to start back on the path of happiness then to make sure I see my doctor asap complete The 30 Days of Bad Decisions challenge.   My life path is not empty and meaningless.  My life path is TO COMPLETE THIS MAGICAL CHALLENGE and document it.



Finally, out of nowhere....purpose.  

The perils of overthinking in the derby world.

So last night was my first, full on regular league practice.


um

There were a few times where I actually thought the evening was going to end in me in the back of an ambulance.   For realz.


I PROMISE I am not being all "waaaaa....I suck....blah blah blah"   But the moment I have three highly skilled derby vets stampeding towards me with a blood thirsty glare you can bet your ass that I'm skating the fuck away as fast as my untrained feet will take me.  Unfortunately, for the purpose of that particular drill, my objective as the blocker was to block and most certainly NOT to run away.  But seriously folks, running away like a cowardly child was the only intelligent choice when put head to head with the only other option of a broken collar bone.  Of course, running away just isn't enough.  I also had to yelp and then belly flop on the floor.

I just want to stay in the corner and practice transitions.

Easy peasy. I'm gonna do it like I have been told repeatedly.

Step one, lead with foot.  Step Two, spread eagle with other and switch directions.  Step Three, gracefully land with starting foot.  Step Four, finish off with a beautiful tomahawk.  

Annnnd GO!  

Attempt #1

Step One-lead with foot.  Step Two, spread ea....gah....this feels weird.  Step Three-fall on your knees.  Step Four- be told you are over thinking the process.  Again.

OK.  I think I have this this time.

Attempt #2

Step One-lead with foot
Step Two-Spread eagle zomigodz I did it I DID IT!!!!  ACK!  What's next?!
Step Three-fall on tail bone.
Step Four-have another vet tell me I'm over thinking.


Time to take another approach.  Close my eyes and go for it.

Attempt #3

Step One Two Three Four.    Give er.

Step 5.  Fall badly.  Pretend it didn't hurt.

Attempt #4#5#6#7 etc etc

Fall fall fall

Attempt #40 and on....

Got it.  Finally.

Back to the pack.

Elbowed, punched in the kidneys.  Trampled.  What are the rules again?!   Transitioning on your own is one thing, transitioning while going full speed is a whole other ball of wax.  Down I went, 6 derby girls on top of me.

Over thinking every move.

And then it hit me.  I have nothing to live for!     When I reflect and when I really break things down I realize that not only have I based my life on  humiliating myself  I have no real skill set or qualities that make me an important part of this world.   I am totally disposable!  In fact, if I were to die in a freak, derby related accident that's actually the best case scenario!  I die happy AND my kids get an insurance pay out.......so what am I worried about?!?!


I just need to go for it!   This is one of those times where the worse case scenario is actually the best case scenario.    I think I have finally won this round.


Now if I can remember to keep my tits to the track I might hit my 25 in 5.

Oh yeah

There is nothing I love more than cooking for myself.   It seems to have been forever since I spent some time in the kitchen, listening to music and focusing just on cooking.  No rush.

No- "I don't likes"

No -"when is dinner going to be ready"

No- " well you should really try this"


Just me.  Listening to music, singing along.  Pretty much the best ever.


I rifled around my fridge and sadly there were no 3 pound tbone steaks but there WAS a fist full of glorious asparagus and as we ALL know the only universal truth is that asparagus is the greatest vegetable in the world.   In season Ontario asparagus?!  I died.


I happened upon this recipe.  Now, I am a HUGE fan of creamed spinach on French toast so I knew I was in for it.   So bloody simple and plain but just about the most magnificent thing I have ever tasted IN MY LIFE!  And everyone knows how much I hate exaggerating.

I pretty much came in my own mouth.

And the next time I make it there will be freshly grated parm and crisped up prosciutto....and then I will die.

WHYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!

Why have I waited 36 years to discover the glory that is folk and blues.

I just can't even go on.   It's just sooo good.  I can't get enough.

So yeah, I think I need to buy a guitar and learn this shit.

Some wars were never meant to be won.

I don't know why I have bothered fighting this one.  I don't know why it has been so goddamned important especially since I don't even know what winning LOOKS like.

Yet here I am, in the middle of the same ugly fight I have been having for way too long.

My goddamned hair.

It's a fucking curse and if one.more.person says they are envious of it I swear to god I'm punching them in the throat.

It's thick.  There's a lot of it.  It grows like crazy.   It's boring.

I see folks run around with their flawless locks, bouncing, short, long, purple, brunette.  Updo, or carelessly at their side.  What I'm trying to say is that every single person in the world had the nicest hair ever but me. I want CUTE hair.  I don't want boring.  I want colour and fun and clips and all!

Ok.  I'm doing it.  I'm going all radical this time. THIS TIME will be different.  THIS TIME the girl is going wild.

In retrospect my first mistake was not being communicative enough with my 19 year old stylist.  She was kind and nice and  a-fucking-DORABLE.  So so sweet and I absolutely will see her again.  A real pleasure.  But when a 19 year old sees me they see an old lady, who, when asking for something fun, ends up getting the lamest highlights and lame cut that EVERY SINGLE BORED HOUSEWIFE gets when THEY want something "radical".  She doesn't see the super hip and cool Jimmy Kimmel mega fan that I really am.

Anyhoo.....as someone who now looks like bored housewife I'm cursing my life.  IT'S THE WORST.

Unfortunately, because I kind of am a bored housewife I also lack an additional $200.00 to get the actual radical fun haircut/colour I so desire.

So what's a super amazing broad to do?   Well, she googles "cute ways to wear bandanas to cover bad hair cut"

And sure, it looks cute.  I also now look like a 36 year old woman posing as a hipster and/or 10th grade high school student.  I don't care as it's the lessor of the two evils.  And I have given up.

This battle is futile.  

I'm exhausted.

The hair wins.

What does it all mean?

Sometimes I have a heavy heart.

Why are people cruel to each other?

War.  What gives?

What is my purpose?

Why do I like HawthoRNe?

And just as my head is about to explode with Existentialist musings I am introduced to something so incredible, so inspiring, so...so......Christoph Waltz dressed as a hamster....... well, I realize, it just doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.  It just is.  It's glorious.  It's wonderful.   It's Kevin Spacey as Piano Cat.  

 I will never unsee this magnificent masterpiece.   And my life is complete.