Does it say something about a person who makes it all the way to 37 before realizing that the "K" in Special K cereal stands for Kellogs?
____________________________________
I flipped through a couple of books on Infertility at Chapters the other day. One had all kinds of advice on things like dealing with uncomfortable social situations, making informed decisions about treatments, and when to let it all go and move on, etc. I perused a few passages that pertained to things that have been rumbling around in my head then shoved it back on the shelf. Like I was mad at it.
Because that makes sense.
____________________________________
It can be hard to resist the lure of the "I have it way worse than you" game, particularly on those days when you feel especially low and woebegone.
I sometimes play it in my head, but it has recently occurred to me that I'm not exactly sure how you win. Am I winning if I believe I do have it worse than someone else, or am I winning if I determine I'm better off? Is a lose-lose game one I should even be playing in the first place?
Yeah, really, no one should play this game. Ever.
_____________________________________
My cat's leg is clicking. I don't know why. She doesn't seem to notice it so I'm not going to point it out.
_____________________________________
Three years ago I was pregnant. I didn't know it yet, but I was about two days pregnant with my beautiful boy. It was the start of our 38 weeks together. The start of his very tiny life.
How can so much have happened in three years? How is it possible that he came and went without a single sound except one little gasp?
Three years. Good God.
_____________________________________
My neighbours are away at a cottage this week. Because everything everyone else does always sounds so good to me, I want to be away at a cottage too.
Only clearly I'm not.
Sigh.
_____________________________________
Is it possible to have too much yarn? Is it somewhat insane to buy yarn on sale when you have no plans at all for it? Is this an addiction? Should I be worried?
It's just that it's so pretty...
_____________________________________
Two weeks ago My Beloved and I went to a Hallmark warehouse sale. We spent a total of $6.20 (including tax) on items that would have cost us $1285.98 (including tax) if we'd purchased them in-store at regular retail prices.
We saved $1279.78.
I'm still riding that bargain high.
Oh, and if you need any gift bags, let me know.
______________________________________
If you tailgate - if you ride so far up my ass that I can see the colour of your eyes - I'm going to slow down and drive right on the speed limit.
Just so you know.
______________________________________
There's a mandatory watering ban being enforced in our town because we've had so little rain over the last month and a half.
I understand the need to conserve, but the thought of my beautiful lawns drying up to match the brown of the rest of the neighbourhood is making me a little crazy. Plants and grass are the only things I can nurture and help grow right now and not being able to take care of them the way I want to is torture.
RAIN, DAMMIT!!!
______________________________________
Lucy is happily scratching her claws on the carpet at the top of the stairs. With gusto.
I don't think the clicking leg is an issue at all.
Crisis averted.
Showing posts with label Deep thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Deep thoughts. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Walking
I was working in the communications department of an e-commerce solutions provider when I was pregnant with Thomas. I'd been there on contract for almost three years when I had him. I didn't go back after. I haven't set foot in the building since, as a matter of fact.
It belongs to my old life.
But when I did work there, back when I was a very different girl, I used to walk to and from the train station using the underground pathway beneath the streets of Toronto. There's a whole other city down there - hundreds of stores and businesses connected by miles of pathway snaking below the city.
I have a terrible sense of direction. Atrocious. The first day I ventured down into the underbelly, I figured I'd either end up at work or end up a hundred miles away from it, lost forever in the never-ending subterranean mall. By some miracle (and with the help of some surprisingly good maps and directional signs) I made it to work. With time to spare.
So I used the PATH (as it's called) almost every day. If it wasn't too hot, too cold or just generally miserable out, I'd walk above ground, but most of the time I stayed below, carefully retracing the steps I took each morning to return home each night.
Eventually I learned that there was more than one route to and from the train. A co-worker told me about it - told me that he went a completely different way than I did. I wondered if his route was shorter than mine, and wondered if that was the reason there was so little foot-traffic along portions of my walk.
But I kept walking the route I'd learned.
One day I happened to see a sign that said UNION STATION pointing in a different direction than the way I happened to be going. The way I walked to get to that very same place. I was tempted to try it. I was tempted almost every day thereafter. But I never did.
I walked that path for almost three years and the only time I varied my route was to venture above ground when the air was comfortable and clear.
I got thinking about my route this evening. I tried to walk it in my mind. Down the escalator, past the convenience store, through the food court, beyond the double doors and into the Scotiabank Towers. And that's where I get stuck. I can remember bits and pieces of the rest of the walk, but not how to link them all together.
I can't remember my route. I walked it a million times, never changing my course. And now it's gone.
You can be true to a route in life. You can plan it out carefully and walk it faithfully. You can memorize it and depend upon it and hide yourself away along its safe, comfortable lengths. But it doesn't mean it'll take you where you want to go, or that it's even the best way to get there.
Most importantly, it doesn't mean it'll take you where you need to go.
I think it's good that I can't remember my route. I don't want to learn another one that well ever again.
It belongs to my old life.
But when I did work there, back when I was a very different girl, I used to walk to and from the train station using the underground pathway beneath the streets of Toronto. There's a whole other city down there - hundreds of stores and businesses connected by miles of pathway snaking below the city.
I have a terrible sense of direction. Atrocious. The first day I ventured down into the underbelly, I figured I'd either end up at work or end up a hundred miles away from it, lost forever in the never-ending subterranean mall. By some miracle (and with the help of some surprisingly good maps and directional signs) I made it to work. With time to spare.
So I used the PATH (as it's called) almost every day. If it wasn't too hot, too cold or just generally miserable out, I'd walk above ground, but most of the time I stayed below, carefully retracing the steps I took each morning to return home each night.
Eventually I learned that there was more than one route to and from the train. A co-worker told me about it - told me that he went a completely different way than I did. I wondered if his route was shorter than mine, and wondered if that was the reason there was so little foot-traffic along portions of my walk.
But I kept walking the route I'd learned.
One day I happened to see a sign that said UNION STATION pointing in a different direction than the way I happened to be going. The way I walked to get to that very same place. I was tempted to try it. I was tempted almost every day thereafter. But I never did.
I walked that path for almost three years and the only time I varied my route was to venture above ground when the air was comfortable and clear.
I got thinking about my route this evening. I tried to walk it in my mind. Down the escalator, past the convenience store, through the food court, beyond the double doors and into the Scotiabank Towers. And that's where I get stuck. I can remember bits and pieces of the rest of the walk, but not how to link them all together.
I can't remember my route. I walked it a million times, never changing my course. And now it's gone.
You can be true to a route in life. You can plan it out carefully and walk it faithfully. You can memorize it and depend upon it and hide yourself away along its safe, comfortable lengths. But it doesn't mean it'll take you where you want to go, or that it's even the best way to get there.
Most importantly, it doesn't mean it'll take you where you need to go.
I think it's good that I can't remember my route. I don't want to learn another one that well ever again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)