The Distractions

Anyone else finding it really hard to forget that we’re living through a pandemic?

Anyone else chewing right through your dental night guard? Anyone else buying wine by the case? Anyone else waking up in the morning and smiling – thinking you’ve just woken up to a Newhart series finale situation where you thought it was all just a dream* – and then you realize it wasn’t a dream and you go outside and yell up at the sky, “why God why?”

No?

Me neither.

These are weird times made weirder by the fact that we are ALL living in these weird times, and none of us know how long these weird times will last.

I am looking for something – anything – to take my mind off the thing (you know – the pandemic).

It could be a new hobby, TV show, cooking technique, book series, app, sleeping position, podcast, game, breathing technique, craft, or a hot new hot beverage** that I can get excited about…

The question is what?

What can – and will – divert my attention from something worrying or unpleasant (you know – the pandemic)?

Should I start knitting? I don’t want to buy all the stuff – knitting needles, yarn, scissors, etc. etc. – and learn “to cast on” if there’s a COVID-19 vaccine next week.

I could learn how to play a new game? Though I really don’t want to read an entire set of instructions for a game, only to have them announce some sort of treatment. It would be a huge waste. I’d put the game up in the closet and then next time I want to play the game I’d have to read the instructions all over again.

I guess I could take a class? Then again, the whole point of taking a class is to be the smartest person in the class, and if you’re talking it online no one else will know how smart you are, so what is even the point of taking a class anymore?

I’ve heard learning a new language is hard. I’ve also heard learning to play an instrument is hard. So no to both.

I could download a game app? But that’s always risky. What if I become obsessed with it and play it all day and all night and I stop eating and sleeping and showering, and I completely miss the announcement of a COVID-19 vaccine and/or treatment? That is a real risk. Once I downloaded Candy Crush before a trip to Europe and I spent most of my vacay in my hotel room levelling up (and I don’t mean romantically).

I could also exercise? But (and it’s a big one) – I don’t want to get into shape if no one is going to see my new, hot bod. If we are all social distancing and staying home and no one can see your new, hot bod – what even is the point of having a new, hot bod? Then again, if they announce this whole thing (you know – the pandemic) is over, I’m probably going to need a few extra weeks of “quarantine***.”

What is your favourite distraction right now?

Anyone else feel like Candy Crush gives you the most positive reinforcement and validation that you’ve ever had in your life? No? Me neither.

+++

* I should have said, “Spoiler alert!” but the show was on in the 1980s, so…

** Like golden mylk, for instance.

*** Time to fit into my non-stretchy pants.

 

 

 

The Roll

I am on a roll!

(I love rolls*!)

I mean, I’m actually on a chair at my kitchen table, but I’m on a roll in the sense that I’m in the midst of a series of successes!

Note: when I use the term “successes“ it use it loosely**.

I’m definitely not talking about the attainment of wealth, position, honours, or the like, or a performance or achievement that is marked by success***. I’m talking about the attainment of one’s goals.

Guess what? I have attained ALL of my goals this week. That’s right… all of them. Every single one!

I know what you’re thinking: “Wow, Kim. Not only are you talented and hilarious and smart and good-looking in a non-traditional way, you have a real gift for motivating others with your inspirational musings. You’re basically Oprah, but with more star quality.”

First of all, I want to say thank you. It’s not the first time I’ve been compared to Oprah, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. I’m basically a philanthropist, without the money.

I may not be able to give you money – but what I can give you is the secret to success and achieving all of your goals:

Set the bar really, really low.

Everyone knows that the key to setting goals is making them SMART:

• Specific (not ambiguous)
• Measurable (not unmeasurable)
• Attainable (easy)
• Relevant (not irrelevant)
• Timely (not untimely)

For instance…

I ate breakfast today! They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and they are not wrong! (Who are they? Who cares!) I ate my breakfast at 3 PM, standing over the kitchen sink, and it was soup from a can. #winning

I wrote two blogs this week! And I had a goal of none! One blog was about coping mechanisms (which I’m sure you read and enjoyed and were inspired by) and this one is about this! That’s right – not one (and not three), but two blogs. Two is always better than one – unless you’re talking about wild dogs or mysterious lumps.

I unsubscribed from several company promotion and newsletter email subscriptions! I feel so free.

I read a book! Now I know who Harry Potter is! (He is mentioned on the seventh and final page of an e-book about wizards.)

I didn’t cancel any social plans! My pre-quarantine excuses had been getting weak (my llama bit my dad), but now I finally have time to think of new excuses for why I don’t want to hang out with anyone!

I showered this morning! Sure, it was just my tears, while I chopped onions and thought about the impending economic collapse and my place in this world, but I was really wet and I felt so clean after!

I exercised! This morning I stretched to reach my phone up on the shelf next to my bed, and then this afternoon I did a deep lunge to catch a potato chip that fell out of my mouth.

I learned French! Kissing. Finally!

In this day****, and age*****, and with the present special circumstances******, we should not be setting the bar so high.  We should be setting the bar very, very low*******.

Then you’ll never fail.

 

+++

* Cinnamon, pizza, toilet, etc.

** Looser than a wizard’s sleeve!

*** Though my puppet shows have been VERY well received.

Snakes on a plane, with puppets.

**** April 22, 2020

***** 40, and turning 41 on April 30, thank you very much.

****** COVID-19

******* I want to be able to reach the hard liquor.

The Merry, Cheery Feeling

The song, “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday” by Wizzard played on the radio today, and I thought to myself, “heck yes!”

But, I soon came to my senses.

Sure, if it was Christmas everyday there would be no work, lots of sleeping in, holiday noggin’, boozy brunches, loads of presents, stuffed stockings, dancing, Christmas cocktails, more dancing, pajamas all day, dysfunctional family dynamics that make for good stories, Tofurkey, mashed potatoes, Home Alone, and festive cheese balls.

At first!

But soon you would have no job, no money, and probably no place to live. You would definitely not have any money to buy presents, and neither would anyone else. You’d show up to every party empty handed, which would be extremely embarrassing. You would likely sink into a deep, deep depression. You would hear Mariah Carey’s, “All I Want For Christmas Is You” IN YOUR WORST NIGHTMARES. You would be wishing for one day off of the relentless, punishing Christmas chaos, if only to get sober, eat some vegetables, and wear a proper pair of slacks. (Home Alone may also wear thin everyday for the rest of your life, but I doubt it.)

So, no, I don’t wish it could be Christmas everyday.

BUT (and it’s a big one), I do wish people would be as nice as they are at Christmas everyday*. That would be wonderful.

I think they call it festive cheer? It’s that merry, cheery feeling.

When you feel it, for just a moment, you feel like everything is going to be okay and peace on earth is possible… (And we’re not “living” on some god-forsaken, climate emergency, melting ice caps, turtles eating plastic, burning rainforest, oil spills, garbage island, Trump, terror attacks, mass shootings, raping and pillaging, hurtling toward oblivion kind of planet).

That festive feeling makes people do crazy things they would never do the rest of the year. I’ve seen strangers embrace. I’ve seen people pet strange dogs. I’ve seen people stop for pedestrians. I’ve even seen people share a sandwich. It’s really something.

I wish that merry, cheery feeling could be everyday.

But it can’t, so enjoy it while it’s here.

 

+++

* Most (not all) people are nice during Christmas. Some people are flamin’ hot jerk-wads every day of the year. And those people know exactly who I’m talking about. It’s them, and their stupid faces.

 

 

 

The Most Terrifying Thing That We Have All Accepted As Okay

Based on the title, I’m not sure what you think this blog is about.

There are many, many things that are terrifying that we have all accepted as okay… Botox, escargot, and global warming.

But this is way worse.

I can’t believe I haven’t written about this before. It’s something that haunts me; it haunts my dreams; it should haunt you. It’s haunting.

(It’s INSANE when you actually think about it.)

It’s restaurants.

What the actual F@#$?

You go to a strange building, sit on a seat that hundreds (if not thousands) of people have sat on before, touch a menu that has been touched by many, many others, and then tell a total and complete stranger what you want to eat and drink.

Here’s where it gets f-ing weird.

The total and complete stranger goes and tells another total and complete stranger what you would like to drink and eat… And then they make it for you.

You don’t know them; they don’t know you.

They make your food and beverages. With their hands. They might have a cough. Or they might need to scratch their nose. Or their bum. They might have gotten in a fight with their husband the night before. They might have just been diagnosed with a flaming case of herpes.

They are completely unknown to you, and yet you will let them put their “stuff” (the food and beverages that they have “made”) into your body, via your mouth hole.

How do you know that these total and complete strangers haven’t compromised your food and beverages? You don’t.

How do you know that these total and complete strangers are not perverts that have weird food fetishes that involve the same zucchinis and eggs you’re planning to eat? You don’t.

FACTS: There is a 90% chance that your meat has fecal matter in it, and a 65% chance that someone licked your garlic toast. (These are facts.)

Apparently, the first restaurant opened in Paris in 1765 by A. Boulanger, a soup vendor. The sign said restoratives, or restaurants, referring to the soups and broths he made. Restaurants quickly caught on… Like the plague, or Bieber fever.

And now, restaurants are literally everywhere. 

How are you okay with this? It’s not, not, NOT* okay.

I mean, IF you know the person making the food, and you can watch them make the food, and you have their entire medical history at hand, and they appear to be well, and they wear gloves, and they are not known to be a nose picker, and you’ve asked them if they’re a pervert (and they’ve said “no”), and you brought the food from your own garden to the restaurant (to ensure its quality and origin)… Then sure, eat at the restaurant.

But if not, wtf?

Botox, escargot, and global warming are one thing – but you have to draw the line somewhere.

Perverts

 

+++

* Triple negative bringing it around back to being a refutation.

 

 

 

 

The Knowledge

I’m reading a book.

No, not a large magazine.

No, not a large pamphlet.

No, not the subtitles on Housewives. 

An actual book. One that consists of many, many words on many, many pages that have been glued together along one side and bound in a cover.

It’s called A Short History of Nearly Everything, and it’s OVER 543 pages long (it’s 544 pages). It was written (typed) by Bill Bryson.

Contrary to its title, it is not a short history of nearly everything*, it is a short history of a few very large things: the cosmos, the earth, etc.

I will say (type), that I have definitely learned some things.

Here are some of the things:

The human body has 7,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 (seven billion billion) atoms in it. That’s a sh-tload of atoms! 

99% of the human body is made up of six elements: oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus. We’re basically made of the same material as a tossed salad.

Our sun is one of about 200 billion stars in our galaxy. It’s also 149.6 million kilometers away from the earth. And you thought your commute was bad. 

The earth is 4.543 billion years old. In my opinion, it doesn’t look a day over 4 billion. 

Before reading this book I had never really spent much time thinking about our universe, the rise of life, cells, or atoms. Now it’s all I can think about.

And that’s a problem… Because I’m spending so much time thinking about quantum mechanics (and molecules, and neutrons, and protons, and electrons, and atoms, and subatomic particles) that I hardly have time to watch television anymore.

The other problem with having more knowledge is that it makes you realize how very little you know. The more you read, learn and think about things – the more you realize there is so f-ing much more out there to read, learn and think about. It can be overwhelming.

And maybe that’s why most of us don’t. It’s much easier not knowing what you don’t know.

If you actually spent any time thinking about our universe and the rise of life and cells and atoms, and the fact that you’re just a bunch of quarks and gluons… You might actually go insane… Or become religious. Or both.

And that’s why I watch Housewives. 

 

+++

* I’m 157 pages in, and so far there has been nothing about my favourite subject: 1980s sitcoms.

Just a bunch of atoms over here

 

 

 

The Sake

I wanted to talk about sake.

I don’t mean sake, sometimes spelled saké and also referred to as a Japanese rice wine (the alcoholic beverage made by fermenting rice that has been polished to remove the bran – but unlike wine, is produced by a brewing process more akin to that of beer, where starch is converted into sugars which ferment into alcohol).

I hear about that sake a fair bit at Japanese restaurants.

I’m talking about sake. Like Peet’s.

Peat’s?

Pete’s?

Somebody’s sake!

(Not the fermented Japanese rice wine.)

I wanted to take about sake… The cause, account, interest, or benefit. From the Middle English or Old English sacu, meaning cause; or the German sache, meaning thing; or the Old Norse søk, meaning lawsuit.

It’s such a good word, and can be used in so many situations where you need to be specific about regard, consideration, respect, and reason (synonyms).

Why would you use boring words when you can use exciting words, like sake! (Not the fermented Japanese rice wine.)

It’s a solid, effective, weighty word and it pairs very well with sushi, tempura, ramen, sashimi, and teriyaki.

Wait, now I am talking about the fermented Japanese rice wine.

Back to the one that means cause, account, interest, or benefit.

This sake pairs well with Pete’s. Heaven’s. Pity’s. F@#$’s.

For my sake*, for your sake*, for goodness’ sake*… Try using sake more often in your communication.

 

+++

* Just to be 100% clear, I’m not talking about the fermented Japanese rice wine.

 

 

 

The Hobbies

I had to fill out a form yesterday. The information I was meant to provide included age (rude), favourite colour (azure), favourite food (I wrote “pizza” and immediately regretted it), and hobbies.

Does “looking at your phone” or “Real Housewives” count as hobbies? (Asking for a friend.)

(At one point in my life, I definitely had hobbies… I remember pretending to be really into art. I would go to galleries and narrow my eyes at the sculptures and paintings, and then put my index finger on my bottom lip and read the ridiculous artist statement… Pretending to care about art is definitely a hobby.)

I looked up from the form and over at my husband. “What are my hobbies?”

Husband: “You’re a mom. You don’t have time for hobbies.”

Me: “What about reading?”

Husband: “Reading what?”

(long pause)

Me: “The phone bill.”

Husband: “Doesn’t count.”

Me: “There are words.”

Husband: *a look*.

So, I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t have a hobby.

What’s so great about having a hobby anyway?

Well, according to an article in Psychology Today, hobbies make you interesting! “Hobbies give you something to talk about at parties and around the water cooler. They add layers to your identity, richness to your self-concept. People want to be around those with passions, with a sense of curiosity, with stories to tell. You not only feel more inspired when you have a rich and active life, but you will inspire others as well.”

I literally have NOTHING to talk about at parties, no richness in my self-concept, and I do NOT inspire others… So I should probably get a hobby.

Here’s my problem: there are so many hobbies to choose from… hunting, chess, woodworking, stamp collecting, coin collecting, calligraphy, juggling, decoupage, tapping maple trees, building a ship in a bottle… There are a LOT of fish in the metaphorical hobby sea!

I’m also a new mom so my free time is limited. I can’t spend weeks and weeks woodworking only to realize it’s not for me, and with my best hobbying years behind me!

I think the best way to figure out my ideal leisure pursuit is to speed date hobbies. I’ll give each hobby 5-10 minutes of my time, and see if anything clicks.

Questions I will ask myself while partaking in hobbies: Am I enjoying this? Is there a spark? Would I do it again? Do I feel anything in my body? Is there a future here? Could it be “the one”?*

I shall report my findings. Wish me luck.

 

+++

* These are also questions you could ask during actual speed dating.

 

 

The Conformist

I’m officially a yuppie.

I realized this while driving my Toyota Prius down a Vancouver street, listening to U2, with five avocados in a reusable grocery bag on the seat next to me.

(FYI – the official, Mirriam-Webster dictionary definition of “yuppie” is: a young college-educated adult who is employed in a well-paying profession and who lives and works in or near a large city. While I’m not especially young (I may or may not be in my mid 30s) or in an especially well-paying profession, I do live and work in a large-ish city so that should count for something.)

It just sort of happened… I slowly grew up and began conforming to accepted behavior and established practices – including shopping at Whole Foods, eating tofu, and listening to classic rock.

(Believe me, I didn’t seek to conform. For much of my life, I definitely did not conform. In fact, some might have even called me a nonconformist because my behavior and/or views definitely did not conform to prevailing ideas or practices – i.e. I wore thrift store clothing and dyed my hair yellow and read experimental poetry!*)

I digress.

I want to talk about the best thing about conforming… Whole Foods.

I love Whole Foods.

I love everything about it… I love the smoothie station. I love the natural products. I love the cashiers with their green aprons. I love that some Whole Foods have bars and food and a really great happy hour. I love that all of the bathrooms have toilet seat covers!!!!! I love the paper bags which are super handy for so many things. I love the high ceilings. I love the pre-cut watermelon. I love the varied and vast assortment of kombucha drinks. I love that you can return anything with a receipt (I returned a chicken that tasted gross last week). I love the free parking. I love the free samples. I love that they have six kinds of tamari. I love all the things!

And you know what? It’s okay.

Conforming is okay.

It’s just going with the flow, playing the game, meeting halfway, rolling with the punches, following the beaten path…**

I mean, we all grow up, and we all feel a little bit less, and we all die a little bit inside every. single. day. This is totally normal. This is just growing up, and taking on responsibility, and signing on the dotted line of a mortgage that you can’t afford. It’s totally okay. This is just being an adult.

It’s just maturity… and it’s fine.

I mean, they have six kinds of tamari.

 

+++

* And! Because I was a member of a Protestant church in England that dissents from the established Anglican Church (which is also called a nonconformist)!

** These are all just synonyms of conforming.

 

 

The Momentous Moment

There are moments in one’s life that define one (and one’s life).

In other words, there are going to be moments that define you, determine your fate, and are important in you life’s journey. Some might even call these events momentous,* which, I must say, is a really good word to describe such things.

A job interview. A first date. A first kiss. A third wedding… Those kinds of things.

Moments that are etched in your mind forever. Moments that you will never, ever, ever forget… No matter how much you try, and how much time has passed, and how much therapy you have undertaken, and how good your therapist is.

Those kinds of moments.

I hope you’re picking up what I’m putting down.

Not all of these moments are good. Sometimes these moments are really, really bad and also quite embarassing.

If, for some lucky reason, you have never been embarrassed and have managed to coast through life poised and graceful, then I actually feel sorry for you because embarassment builds character (and you can quote me on that).

If, like me, you have not managed to avoid embarassment (the self-conscious emotion dictated by a disconnect between how we feel we should respond or act in public and how we actually respond or act), then you might appreciate this story.

The date was March 30, 2015. The city was Burbank, California. It was around 6pm. My husband and I were meeting some friends for dinner at Adana, a Persian restaurant that had recently been praised by The New York Times writer Mark Bittman. In other words, it was quite a scene**.

The restaurant is in an indrustrial area on San Fernando Road, which is a busy four-lane road. The windows have dark drapes that are kept closed, and you wouldn’t know it was any different from the self storage next door, except for a small sign that says, Adana.

As we walked up to the restaurant, we noticed a Buick LeSabre*** pull up in front and an older gentleman get out of the vehicle. We didn’t pay much mind, because there are approximately seven billion people on earth, and he was just one of them.

I wish I had.

I opened the door, stepped inside the restaurant, and was immediately blinded by no fewer than 100 camera flashes and a very enthusiastic and deafening rendition of “Happy Birthday” that quickly trailed off when they realized I was not the birthday boy.

I stood there, paralyzed with fear, in front of at least 100 Armenians that did not look happy****.

My whole life flashed before me: my first job interview. My first date. My first kiss. My third wedding… And then I thought about how bummed all of these Armenians would be to go through their photos later, and see pics of some stupid white chick.

I reached for my husband’s hand… knowing that we have taken sacred marital oaths and consumated our marriage literally dozens of times, to signify that whatever life brings our way, we will get through it together…

Yeah, he was nowhere to be found. Apparently, when he saw the flashes go off and heard the singing start, he ducked back outside the restaurant, leaving me alone, red-faced, literally***** dying of embarassment.

Finally, a waiter rushed over and pulled me aside, just as Buick LeSabre guy opened the door, and was immediately blinded by no fewer than 100 camera flashes and a very enthusiastic and deafening rendition of “Happy Birthday” that was sung through to completion.

My husband entered the restaurant and rushed over to me, but it was all very momentous and I needed to sit down.

Let’s just say we didn’t consumate our marriage that night.

 

+++

* If you’re the kind of person who likes to throw around big words to prove to the world (and specific people) that you’re very highbrow and fancy, I would suggest adding momentous to your vernacular. Momentous (if you don’t already know) is an adjective to describe a very, very important decision, event, or change, which is of great importance or significance, especially in its bearing on the future.

** You know, associated with or immersed in a particular cultural scene.

*** I can’t actually remember what kind of car it was, but if you’re telling a story and you need a car make and model, I highly recommend a Buick LeSabre.

**** Okay, full disclosure: some of them looked happy, and some of them did not look happy.

***** Not literally.

 

 

The Womance

I was so sure that I had created a new term.

It wouldn’t be the first time… Barf bag ripper. Wacky bat nuts. Those terms came from my brain, vibrated through my vocal chords, and then spat out of my mouth – and were quickly and firmly entrenched into the lexicon of modern English.

Last fall I spent a week at Royal Roads University doing a residency for my Communications Management Post-Graduate Certificate. During the residency, I met a very special group of ladies (and one man!), and we just clicked. 

To be clear: I don’t mean that we made a short, sharp sounds as of a switch being operated or of two hard objects coming into contact. Or, the act of selecting options on an electronic interface by pressing a button or touching a screen.

(I mean, we definitely did both of those things, but that isn’t what I meant by clicked.)

What I meant by clicked is that we immediately formed a very close relationship in a way that is usually associated with an empowering summer camp experience, or a tour of duty in Afghanistan.

In five short days, five of us went from strangers to best buds, and our friendship has continued to flourish. We may live in different cities in Western Canada, but we text and email regularly, we send holiday cards, and we meet up when we’re in the same city.

Last night we were texting, and one of the ladies commented on our bromance (you know, a close, emotionally intense bond between two men).

I replied: “You mean womance.”

I was so proud of myself. I wrote the word down on a scrap of paper: womance… Yet another phrase to be quickly and firmly entrenched into the lexicon of modern English. I felt super cool, self-important, and lofty.

And then I googled it and I found out its already a thing. (insert crying emoji.)

According to Wikipedia, womance (also called a sismance, or shemance) is a close but non-sexual relationship between two or more women. 

So it’s already a thing.

So many things are already things!

This happens to me all of the time: I’ll think of some thing, and then I’ll get all excited, and then I’ll google it, and then I’ll find out its already a thing, and then I’ll become so disheartened that I need to go lie down.

Creativity is really a blessing and a curse.

*googling*

That’s already a thing.

I have to go lie down now.