On my bike...

..there is nowhere I can’t go, nothing I can’t do. The world is my playground. I own whatever road upon which I happen to be travelling.

On my bike...

Every pit stop I make is the quaintest location I’ve ever visited and every cup of coffee is the best I’ve ever enjoyed. The sky is more beautiful. The air feels cleaner. The beauty of my surroundings rivals the world’s greatest landmarks. I am right where I am supposed to be at that moment.

On my bike...
I am alone with my thoughts. Or I have none at all. There are no mortgage payments, car payments, bills, appointments, obligations or worries. On my bike I don’t have Lupus; I’ve never had a heart attack; there is no pain; no fear of dying young; I am completely well. On my bike I’ve never suffered trauma or abuse. I am strong. I have never said anything stupid and there is nothing for which I need to feel embarrassment. On my bike there is peace and harmony. There is no conflict, no differences of opinion, no diplomacy is required. On my bike there is no depression, sadness, tears or regret. On my bike there is joy, freedom, inspiration, creativity and love. On my bike anything becomes possible as I embody infinite potential. On my bike I am in control of my destiny; I am supreme; my word is final. On my bike my life is absolutely perfect and I exist solely in that moment. I am one with myself on my bike.

And during the stark, crushing reality which exists in between, through the pain, sorrow, regret and despair; in my mundane existence I daydream, scheme and plan how I can make my next escape.... on my bike.

They May Not Remember What You Said....

Kim's back!

Tonight I was out and about doing the things that Realtors do in the evening. And as is often the case, I was worked up from work, not quite ready to go home and wind it down,  and was deciding whether I needed to do any errands first. There was nothing, but I was craving chocolate, so I decided to pop into Shoppers Drug Mart. I walked in and there was Kim!

Kim  has been a cosmetician for quite a long time. I really like her because she know her stuff: she understands what products I need, has a knack for choosing the cosmetics that complement my complexion, and makes the process of dropping a hundred bucks or more even seem fun! But three months ago Kim got a promotion and left Bradford to manage her own cosmetics department in Toronto. Shopping for beauty products just hasn't been the same. In fact, I had even started looking for other places to shop - there just wasn't anyone who knew my needs like Kim did.

So I went in to get my chocolate bar. "Oh my god Tina you look fabulous!" I looked up and there was Kim behind the cosmetics counter. I ran right over and she came out from behind the glass divider and a spontaneous hug as we squealed like old friends who have not seen each other forever.

We hung around and caught up, chatting about her experiences in Toronto, comparing notes about the holidays, talking about real estate, and the familiarity of it felt good.

Suddenly  I asked about a product I had been meaning to check out but had put off because I really didn't have anyone  who inspired me to feel confident about making the purchase.

Then Kim did what Kim does best. "Tina, remember you said you really liked....... well you should see this......." It went on like this and the next thing I realized I had spent 90 minutes in the cosmetics department and still had no chocolate bar to show for it. My purchases (plural) were lined up and ready to be rung in and I made her wait while I ventured to the other side of the store in order to add a chocolate bar to the pile.

90 minutes and (bleep) dollars later (censored) I left the store feeling really upbeat. I just topped off a good evening with a fun time!

Aha! There was a lesson in it for me too. They may not remember what you said, but they'll never forget how you made them feel. I've heard that many times but tonight I experienced it firsthand.

And I realized that as good as I am at my job, I can do better in different ways, especially as I seek to build relationships rather than completing transactions. Kim, through excellent service and by demonstrating genuine caring that made me feel like I am important to her, has made herself indispensable, even if only in a very small corner of my world. Imagine becoming indispensable  to every person who has ever bought or sold with me. I would never have to look for clients again!

I think lessons present themselves to us in ways we could never imagine. Acquiring the discernment to recognize them makes me a better person on so many levels.  Lipstick and a life lesson.  Very cool.

Giving Back

Politician bashing is a bit of a sport in our Country, manifesting itself in many ways.  Rick Mercer has mastered the art! And of course while anyone who puts themselves 'out there', making their lives a matter of public record may be targets and/or subjects of scrutiny, it seems to be the Politicians who are most subjected to criticism and ridicule. I mean, athletes and entertainers behave badly and we hero-worship them - go figure. A Politician has a temper tantrum in an airport and we all shake our heads disapprovingly. We expect more from them and we cut them little slack. Rightly so... to a point.

I know; I've done it! I'll probably continue to do it in a partisan fashion that would make our Prime Minister proud were it not for the fact that he and his party will most often be the targets of my biting rants. (I'd like to say sorry, Helena, but you were such a target rich environment!)

But there's a flip side here - an important one!

Inasmuch as we love to hate our Politicians, I believe we need to consider that these men and women often put a lot on the line to serve Canada. Many of us take for granted the freedoms we enjoy because of our democracy, which would not exist  without people stepping up and running for office.

Jim Prentice recently left public service to take a top banking job - good for him. I'm not a fan of him or his government, but I do recognize that 10 years of an MP's salary is a lot less than he could have been earning  all this time in the private sector.

We do owe a debt of gratitude to men and women of all political stripes who choose to serve in this way!

It is with this sentiment that I'm proud to throw my support behind Kyle Peterson in Newmarket-Aurora as he seeks the Federal nomination in that riding! Kyle is a passionate Liberal, an articulate communicator, and will make a fine MP. A lawyer, Kyle grew up in the area and is married with one young child. That he is willing to dedicate himself in this way at the prime of his career and earning power is admirable, for sure.

To all Liberal minded folks in the Riding, please sign up HERE for your Membership so we can confirm Kyle's nomination and be ready for the next election!

And to all the others who serve (yes, even you Mr. Harper), Thank you!

Is life worth the risk?

Risk. I think this word is fascinating because it is both a noun and a verb. Risk in one's life, therefore can be either a passive or intentional thing.

If I do not pay attention to the fuel gauge in my car, I run the risk of running out of gas. It is avoided by taking an alternate action.

But sometimes risk isn't  just incurred by failing to act; it IS a course of action, and that's when life can become really interesting. And just because the English language is so wonderfully complex, even risk as an action  is comprised of different, sometimes subtle meanings.

Risk without consideration of the consequences is throwing caution to the wind - like the compulsion of spending one's last fifty bucks at the casino instead of buying food. Often in this kind of risk, one lacks the  possession of clear, rational thought or self control, and behaves recklessly.

When one takes a calculated risk it is usually a deliberate, well planned, well thought out process. But even that can be done for different reasons. A wealthy business person may risk a small fortune on a business venture:  If it fails, the loss, while disappointing, ultimately lacks the ability to have significant negative impact, while its success would be a wonderful bonus. This is about the closest thing to a best of both worlds scenario that exists. Nothing ventured, nothing gained!

Sometimes one 'takes the plunge' and even though the action was thought out and the consequences considered, it is done because there is an underlying sense that little choice exists but to give it a go, see what happens, and hope for the best. Having things turn out well under these circumstances is the ultimate satisfaction, while the alternative can be completely devastating.

I think for the most part, I have played my life pretty safely. It has had all the makings of a very conservative investment portfolio. No big surprises. I can pinpoint only a couple of times in 46 years where I have actually taken risks that will change the entire course of my life. One paid off quite nicely.

The other? I hope to write about it someday. It is still in play.

Will I regret it? Quite possibly, but I have no choice and the unknown that would haunt me forever because of inaction would ultimately be the biggest disappointment of my life.

A pessemist in optimist's clothing

I like my life as a pessimist - I wouldn't trade it!  When life is (insert adjective) hard, unfair, dreary, mundane, challenging, bitterly disappointing, as it often is, the expectations of a pessimist are exceedingly lower than those of the optimist, thus the outcomes of many situations are really not that bad, generally speaking. I expect the worst in a situation, and when something less than that is the the actual result, it is 'bonus; free game; play again'. Optimists have much farther to fall when it all falls apart.

Two weeks ago I was involved in a violent collision on a ski hill.  The irony is that, while it was my first time on skis in over 22 years, I was in perfect control and looking pretty hot on my trick skis. It was the student, who, having lost control and rocketed straight down the hill like a bullet, hit me and sent me flying like a rag doll. I landed on my back, head pointing down hill, and didn't move for several minutes because I wasn't actually sure if I was alive or dead. It was not immediately apparent to me whether the bright light beckoned me to the great beyond, or if it was just the sun shining on me. Clearly by virtue of the fact that I have written this it turned out to be the latter.

So, the pessimist in me thinks this really sucks.  My ski season is over. I had chosen to embrace a winter sport to pass the time until the return of motorcycle season.  Now it is just going to be a cold, miserable winter wherein I will impatiently count down the days until spring.

However, I have also come to the alarming realization that as painful and slow to heal as the fractured and dislocated radius may be, and how cumbersome and restricting the cast is, and how slow and frustratingly onerous every normal task has become, the timing of the crash could have been altered by a split second and I could have snapped my neck instead of my forearm. I could be paralyzed. Or dead.

So in the grand scheme of things, the pain, this awful cast, and the excruciatingly long countdown to spring don't collectively seem so bad.

But please don't call me an optimist. I still believe life sucks and then you die. I just borrowed the optimist club jersey..... it is damned cold out there!

The "ish" factor - learning to chill reaches a whole new level!

So, it was my birthday last week. No big deal - it was relatively uneventful - just the way I wanted.

But something happened. It was one of those moments that made me go 'hmmmm'. Not quite a light bulb moment because it wasn't earth shattering or anything. But nonetheless it was significant enough that it made me stop and think for a moment..

Wait. This story requires a little bit of setting up.

First, MY schedule runs on a clock that is different than anyone else's. Sometimes it is Newfoundland time. Sometimes there's a time zone that is, oh, about 15 minutes behind the rest of the world. When I book appointments, they're done in half hour window, as in "I'll meet you between 3 and 3:30". That's smart for me. I aim for 2:50 and I'm pretty damn sure I'll arrive by about 3:20, which puts me right in the window of time I booked, thus saving me from dreaming up an excuse about why I'm late.

Second, there's my Dad. If he says he'll arrive at 3:00 p.m., he doesn't mean 3:01. He doesn't even mean 2:59 (although he's been known to arrive a minute early and throw me right off). And it doesn't matter if my watch has a different time than his. Only his watch counts. It's like he synchronises it directly with God himself every morning. "Tina-Marie, if you arrive at the train station at 7:31 to catch the 7:30 train, you've missed it." (Heaven help me, I've hear that a million times in my life, and the part where he annoyingly calls me by my real name could be the topic of a whole other post someday!) I've already told him that when he dies, we're going to schedule his funeral for 11:00 a.m. and then start at about 11:12, just so I can see if he makes the coffin rock back and forth in post-mortem agitation.

Now, about my birthday. Tuesday November 9th at 9:00 a.m. I received a phone call from my Mom (Dad can't hear on the phone so well anymore so he gets Mom to call and he just yells at her in the background if she diverts from the message he's trying to send me.

"Happy Birthday Tina."  "Thanks Mom," I reply.

"Dad and I would like to take you to lunch today, but we're gong to a meeting this morning so it will have to be after 12:00."

"Ok, that would be nice" I replied.

We agreed on Swiss Chalet at Yonge and Green Lane.

And then it happened.

We're making our plans and I hear Dad in the background:  "We think we'll be done by noon, but why don't we say 12:30ish in case we're running a little late".

Now, 12:30is coming out of my Mother's mouth would be no big deal.  She and I speak the same language on this one. But.... DAD? 12:30ish?

The planets are no longer aligned and all of the absolutes in this world have been altered forever.  Hell, I 'm left wondering if the earth is, indeed, round!

ISH has never been in my Father's vocabulary. I'm just waiting now for snow in July. Better yet, I should go and buy a lottery ticket!

Or, maybe, just maybe, he's learned to chill and enjoy retired life. Honestly, I think this behaviour falls into the realm of an anomaly. Or maybe its just one of those things that will happen on the 9th of November every year.

61 Days...

For me the worst day of the year has arrived. I hate November 1st.

It signifies the beginning of the most depressing 61 days on my calendar and I brace myself. Its almost like inhaling deeply and preparing to hold my breath for the countdown to January 1st.

There is nothing redeeming about the month of November - not even my birthday. It is a dark, dreary, depressing month. It is not shocking that there are more suicides during this 30 day period than any other on the calendar. Christmas music starts playing in the malls and stores today and by December I'll even have to take my iPod to do the grocery shopping to avoid it. And ironically, the music means nothing - a clear juxtaposition to the throngs jostling for position in line, fighting for parking spots, and frantically engaging in consumerism in an empty hope of finding some satisfaction in it. Songs in which I once found solace like "O Holy Night" have been reduced to the status of a meaningless commercial jingle.

The days are getting shorter and my body craves the fleeting bursts of sunshine that will be rationed so sparingly.

There will be incredibly tasteless plastic decorations everywhere I look. My own family will clutter our house with trinkets and garland and lights and all manners of tackiness.

And the expectations! Which side of the family gets their Turkey dinner at our house on the 25th? Who will be left disappointed or angry? The visits, the parties, the big meals. People eating and drinking to excess and then providing the diet and fitness industries with their best time of the year in January.

There's such a frantic desperation to this time of year and I find it incredibly hollow and sad.

Yes, you're right. I sound exactly like the Grinch. The difference is that in Dr. Seuss' rendition that Grinch's heart grows five or ten sizes with the revelation that in Whoville "it" remains real meaning even without all the presents and lights and bling.

Toto, I don't think we're in Whoville any more.

Inhale deeply. Hold. Pray for January. May I find strength........