Cookies and Kisses

 

Happy New Year!

For all the great experiences I've had this year, I am thankful.

For those to come, I am eager.

Here's looking forward to something good.

Cheers, from myself and the Lad. See you next year.

Gray Days

Going to work during the holidays is very peaceful. There is a noticable and pleasant lack of crowds, pushing and lines. I can indulge in personal space - the things we can come to appreciate on a morning commute. I don't mind coming in to the office, in fact I need a break from the whole holiday at home thing.

That being said, Christmas was lovely. There was good old Polish food, which I am still eating leftovers of, thank you very much. I have boxes upon boxes of chocolate to get through (this is going to hurt later) and I was allowed to lie around and read for hours. I found that I no longer read as fast as I did in high school, and this does not bother me very much. I no longer feel the need to judge my prowess at reading by how many books I can be reading at once or how fast I can get through them. However, I do wish to be faster if only to get to the books sitting further down my list.

This talk of books makes me excited to start the Reading Challenge - the challenge is in the sheer volume of books to read but also in the writing about them. But you've already heard this. So, back to Christmas.
There is nothing profound to say about that other than we managed to remain mostly sane. The Lad and I spent more time together this past long weekend than we have in previous holidays; we even found time to go cross-country skiing.

My first year giving knitted gifts was well recieved. Coworkers and family alike were pleasantly surprised by my cozy little delights. It feels so good to get all those things out of my room and into the arms they were meant for.

In an aside, I'm looking to expell my more rebellious and angry thoughts. I get frustrated, much like many people my age at being in that middle ground where no one takes us seriously but still demand complete submission and respect from us. The twenty-somethings: largely belittled in favour of the thirty and fourty-somethings, whose complaints of personal crises are spattered throughout the media genres.

The original purpose of this blog was an exercise in positive thinking, and I would like to keep it that way. So in the coming year I shall be branching out in my writing, seeking to examine the plight of my much-maligned age group.

Let us end on a good note (how's D? *ducks*) and look forward ringing in the next fantastic year.

Cheers.

Eve

 

Merry Christmas everyone. I hope that your celebrations, whatever they may be are fantastic.

Love and Gingerbread,

Katherine

I Said I Would

I said I would get my ears pierced, and I have! No, there are no pictures yet, but I suppose that from now on, most pictures of me will feature the new adornments. It hurt and now I have to actually pay attention to cleaning my ears. I tell you, it is very strange. But at least now the Lad will stop making fun of me (for that).

So, with weeks to go before the end of the year, it would seem that I am not done learning new things. For instance, I have now tried my hand at curling.

Don't I just look like I know what I'm doing? Feel free to laugh, I was doing plenty of that. Overall, it was an interesting idea for an office Christmas Party. Everyone had fun and I learned that pushing a 40-something pound rock along some ice is harder than it looks. However, do not ask me to explain the brooms.

Indeed, we Canadians can be a bit odd. I would hypothesize that the toques melt our brain matter that crucial little bit but I see enough people not wearing a hat despite the cold to refute that theory.

I thought that I was on the ball this year with my Christmas shopping, having accomplished all of it nice and early. But then life, inevitably threw me a curve ball and I failed in my attempt at knitting something cool for the Lad. I'll keep trying of course (and I won't tell you what it is because he reads this) but, sadly, it won't be for Christmas. So now, I have to run out of the office and scurry into the malls in the last few days before the deadline.

At least I had plenty of backup ideas. And no, I won't tell you about those either until after the fact. Regardless of how badly I planned this, I'm looking forward to a nice holiday with plenty of food and drink. I'm at the point of near child-like anticipation and it cannot be good for my sanity.

Snow is fluttering diagonally outside my office window. The flakes are at times puffy and then suddenly not so. At the very least, the view is never dull.

Early Resolutions

Join the Challenge

As we are a little over halfway through December, it has occurred to me that the time of resolutions is almost upon us. I often struggle with the process of coming up with feasible ideas for The New Year's Resolution. Luckily, a quick putter around the interweb proved quite fruitful.

I'm a manic bookworm, but I would like to become more proficient in sharing my literary finds with others. So, in a preemptive strike on the dreaded resolution, I have chosen to participate in the 100+ Reading Challenge for 2011. Now it is all well and good to read a pile of books, but I feel that I should be writing about them as well.

There is already a link to the hosting blog on the sidebar and once the challenge commences on the First of January 2011, there will be a list of books as well. I encourage all of you to participate, even if it's just making of books you've read in a notebook.And of course, I welcome, nay, encourage you to share your finds with me.

Here are the official Challenge Details:

1. The goal is to read 100 or more books. Anyone can join. You don't need a blog to participate. Posting on GoodReads or wherever you post your reviews is good enough.

2. Audio, Re-reads, eBooks, YA, Manga, Graphic Novels, Library books, Novellas, Young Reader, Nonfiction – as long as the book has an ISBN or equivalent or can be purchased as such, the book counts.

What doesn't count: Individual short stories or individual books in the Bible.

3. No need to list your books in advance. You may select books as you go. Even if you list them now, you can change the list if needed.

4. Crossovers from other reading challenges count.

5. Challenge begins January 1st thru December, 2011. Books started before the 1st do not count. You can join at anytime.

Music on the Mind

A person's dual nature can really come through in the winter. It seems that while the snow forces some to introvert into their hoods and mittens these same people can radiate brightness and enthusiasm.

I can't make assumptions but this is what winter does to me. I can't help feeling chilly for the whole day when the stinging wind freezes my cheeks into a permanent grin. Cherry cheeks and hat hair; it would seem I am pleased by the strangest things.

As you can see, even when the peaks of roofs are draped with icy curtains, colour manages to poke its nose through. I think that without these gaily painted windows and doors, it would be a grey season indeed.

Yes! I'm back to taking pictures and sharing them with you. This pleases me. I am looking forward to being a frosty-fingered shutterbug again.

But more to the point, I find myself thinking about music. Now, I'm not one of those people who has extensively categorized music collections, meticulously organized into play lists and what have you. I do, however, enjoy listening.

If I might be permitted to get deep for a moment, I would muse about the act of listening itself. How that when we force ourselves to pause and be attentive if only for a moment, we notice things that were around us all along. I'm not very good at being deep.

On that note (haha), I will share some songs that have put a spring in my step and continue to do so every time I hear them. Be warned, if you live in a place where the surfaces are presently icy and treacherous, employ caution when sauntering along.



And it seems that the second one cannot be embedded in this blog. But I persevere! Feel free to take a look at Luke Doucet's cover of The Lovecats.

Cheers

Le Vent d'Hiver

Blink and realize that the wind is stinging your cheeks, snow is sticking to your eyelashes and you can't seem to pull the earflaps of your hat tight enough. Le vent d'hiver - the winter wind - made romanitc by endlessly sung carols but one cannot deny the cold reality, not matter how tuneful.



Bad quality winter cell-photo; there is no way my real camera
is coming out in this kind of weather.

 Shadows an icy platform, waiting for a train that never comes. Such is the reality of a city that denies the existance of Canadian Winter year after year.

Yes, it's windy and yes, it snows a lot. I think we would all be better off if we stopped denying this fact and behaved as if we lived in a snowy region (those of us who do, in any case) rather than a temperate one.

I am as much to blame as everyone else, I put off donning my winter boots until the last minute but even I admit that it's no time for heels. Nor is it time for unclad heads and sheer tights under skirts shorter than one's coat. Those few are an exception; most level-headed people are practical about cold weather.

Besides, if I didn't live in a climate like this, what use would my hat-knitting skills come to?

There is always a bright side. And soon the moon will glitter over snow-laden branches beddecked in delicate lights. To me, Christmas lights will always represent seasonal magic; hundreds of tiny spells woven around ever-green branches.

Cookies are magic too and the holidays mean gingerbread! Can you smell them yet?

Greeting the Sun

I rolled out from under my nocturnal pile of three blankets, just as many pillows and two teddy bears. Somewhere between stumbling into the shower and boarding the train a jaunty spring slipped into my boots. If I wasn't worried about slipping on the damp pavement, I would dance down the street. I do have sympathy for my neighbourhood's other residents, so I try to limit the click of my heels.

What I love most about the morning is being able to watch the sun rise as I stand just inside the train doors. The sky is a milky gold and the scene illuminated by the glow is a bustling construction site; it's not exactly idyllic but it's my home.

December is Pause Month; everything takes a break and I permit myself plenty of inert moments. I want to bake piles of cookies, try some new cakes, knit until my room is bursting with colourful creations and read something that was not on a school book list. I will also write again, November is a trying month for university students here. I managed not to lose my mind but other things slipped to the side, but I go now to collect them.

There is plenty to look forward to, as there always is. A new project, discovering a new song or perhaps just doing much of the same but taking the time to enjoy it. I have enlisted my friends to kick me in the rear and force my to get my ears pierced - something I've been putting off out of fear for years. My theory is that if I tell enough people and then get it written here (if it's on the interweb then it's true, right?) I have no excuse to put it off.

It's time to get cozy, pull on some knee socks and throw myself headlong into winter. The sooner I accept the snow, the sooner I will be shooting headfirst down a hill on my trusty sled.

Welcome winter.

Eat a Cookie and Time Travel

I like titles that are completely (initially) unrelated to the work. When I go into a library or a book store I'm looking for intriguing titles, something that would spark my imagination and make me long for the story behind the covers. But enough about that, today I have joy.

I walk the same streets every, and at the same time I get lost in a new place every time. Maybe it's because I have the same capacity to hold things in my brain as a sieve does to hold water. But that isn't the point. The point is that when the sky turns grey I get to watch the day through my own hair. The wind was wicked today, so cold it made the part of my head that is behind my ears ache. November is liminal, everything is changing and no one knows if they should accept the misery of winter months yet.

Surprises abound on the single street I take to work from the gym-atop-the-mountain. I look down an alley between two houses and see the grass there scattered with many glittering pieces of glass. It was like someone broke a puddle. A few houses away, I wonder whether that brilliant turquoise door has always been there. I think with all the leaves turning fiery in the autumn, I forget to look at the houses. The townhouses are crammed tightly together; three storeys (or stories, if you're feeling poetic) topped with a slate shingle roof. As if noticing for the first time, I gape at the colours. Each house, even though it is pressed right up to its neighbour, has doors and window frames so gaily painted that they seem to have sprung from the rooms of children. Even on campus, I wonder whether I am going mad when I see the shade of blue which adorns the windows of an old stone building.

It get dark earlier every day, and soon the people will begin to lose their colour as well. The stain of the sun never lasts very long for those who do not retreat south during the holidays. But we can find colour in other places. Even though there has not yet been a permanent snowfall, the buildings are adorned with massive, glittering wreathes. At least scale is maintained. Trees and lampposts alike are bedecked in shimmering lights, and before long, snowflakes will add that last but necessary romance.

If I am to live in a country that is beset with snow for the greater part of the year, then I might as well find ways to enjoy it, right? Before long, the wind that blows tornadoes of leaves around my feet will soon be stirring sharper and colder things.

At the very least, it is not yet cold enough that my smile freezes on my face.

Lost Moments

During this past week I've been doing a lot of walk-thinking. If I'm going to be walking a great deal then I might as well put it to productive use - reading while walking has its' hazards.

With nothing particular to think about the mind often turns to the abstract, and aided by music it can go nearly anywhere. As the mind wanders at the same time as I do, I fall to thinking of lost moments. It's those moments that we miss because we have other things to do, or because we move too quickly.

When I see a ticket to a football game lying at the edge of a sidewalk, I think about how it came to be lost. Did it fall from a pocket as its bearer hopped up the hill in celebration of victory? Or was it cast dejectedly aside? I would hate to think that the ticket was lost prior to the match, but if such was the case, what became of that night?

Walking along the top of a mountain gives way to thoughts of life elsewhere. The music piped into my head transfers graceful qualities onto otherwise mundane activities. I watched five people step off the sidewalk and sail between oncoming cars. How can jaywalking be beautiful?

I'm obviously in an odd mood when I think like this. But odd moods are the stuff of later brilliance, and we all need a little brilliance now and then. When I watch people going about their days from a distance, I feel like I'm borrowing their moments, and even though I can't remember all of them long enough to describe them, they become special to me at the time.

If some stranger's actions change my day in some manner, is it possible that unbeknown to me, some other person is taking one of my moments into their head and thinking about me for a split second? It's nice to think that I might not be the only one who ponders in this manner.

Post Halloween

I didn't dress up, nor did I attend any sort of party in which one wears a costume. I kind of wish I had had one to go to. I'm not complaining though, the Lad took me swing dancing. We stayed at a hotel downtown, it was nice not to have to leave before the last bus to the suburbs.

Seeing people who can dance much, much better than we can strangely did not discourage the Lad. In fact it made him try harder, which endeared him all the more to me. Even though I spent the better part of midnight complaining of hunger and sore feet I hope he knows how happy he has made me for agreeing to take up swing dancing with me. I should tell him - I might already have done so. My mind has been a bit more sieve-like than usual lately.

It seems as though Halloween gets quieter every year in my web of neighbourhoods. The children where silent by 7:30, having starting showing up sporadically at around 6 in the evening. Maybe it's just my mind inflating one of the most awesome holidays of the year, but I remember staying out for much longer, and there being so many more kids around.

Also, I'm not the first person to complain about this so I'll keep it brief. What is with the kid who's parent drives them from street to street? This is the suburbs, it's not exactly fifteen kilometres uphill between houses.  At the risk of beating the issue any further to death, I'd just like to say that if you're going to consume tons of candy, might as well walk to earn it. That is all.

You might find that my postings have been a little more sporadic of late. As much as I'd like to say that will change for the better I can make no promises. Apart from the semester entering its' final, turbulent stage, I've taken up the NaNoWriMo challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. Day 1, good start. I wrote to the daily recommended word count and still had enough energy to blog about it. This level of optimism will not last long.

My Cookie friend and I got together for another baking session. There was no camera but let me tell you, those Spicy Oatmeal Raisin cookies were gone by the end of the weekend. Gladly shall I share the recipe when I'm not so tired.

Welcome to November everyone, don't let the icy pellet rain bring you down. If you don't have that kind of thing... can I come live with you? It's cold here.

Cheers.

Thinky Thoughts

I think a lot. This might be slightly obvious since I don't end up writing out as many thoughts as I have. Strangely, they only seem worth sharing at the time. I've toyed with the idea of carrying a notebook around with me at all times so I won't forget any thought, but between an umbrella, a gym bag and a bag of takeaway sushi, there's hardly room for a pen.

By the time I sit (read: collapse) down to write, most of my thoughts have fluttered away like so many frustrating insects. So here I am with a butterfly net equipped for catching errant thoughts, don't mind me while I coral them.

~~

I contemplate gathering up all the funds that I possess and taking off on some grand adventure. That desire hasn't changed in the last few weeks. There are a few problems with this idea, the major one I'm dealing with is fear. My parents have indirectly instilled in me a fear of having and knowing nothing. I live, perpetually thinking that everyone who sees me watches me and judges me. Although, that fact is probably neither here nor there. In any case, I've watched my parents "never talk about money in front of the children" and now I know the state of affairs. I do not want what they live with to be my lot. So, I started to work at the age of 16, constantly saving up to make sure I don't end up like my parents. But from time to time, a grand adventure seems worth the price.

~~

Books. They used to take up my entire existence. Food was something I did so I could go on reading books. My parents tried to enforce the rule of no books at the table; that would work for about the length of time it would take to voice that rule. My life has changed, and although reading doesn't take up as much of my leisure time, I'd like to think it still infuses my soul's cup of tea. I have a book in me somewhere, I would like to get it onto paper. Using this blog as writing practice makes me want to compose something more complex although probably a little less personal.

~~

I've discovered an interesting quirk of mine. I can cook and  bake. While I'm fairly confident of my skills, they only become evident when I am alone. Baked goods created anywhere in the vicinity of my parents or even the Handsome Lad tend to erupt into gloriously globular failures. There's probably something psychological about the whole things. However, the more tangible result of this would be that my pie crust contains half the required amount of butter and tastes like concrete (don't ask...).

~~

I have found that there are days where I couldn't care less if I get wet. Today happened to be one of those days. The top of the mountain was wreathed in mist, muting the vivid colours of autumn. It was if the world had been drenched in pastels. I would say watercolours but that just seems too obvious. It rained, and for the most part, the droplets were icy. But I had no umbrella and as I walked, I found that I rather enjoyed the sound of the rain on my slick, black hood.

There are more thoughts, but I thank you for reading these ones. Sometimes, I like to write without a general purpose; the ideas start to leave me be for a while after they have been transcribed.

For your troubles, weary mind wanderer, here is a song I currently enjoy.

Cookies and Colours

This morning I am proud to have completed two knitting projects in one weekend. Not pictured is the Montreal Canadiens striped scarf. But, over there in the picture you will find these delightfully Fetching wrist warmers. These went together so quickly that I could just sit down and make three more pairs. Although, with the weather getting chillier with every passing day, I think I'll have to take a step up to fingers.

I can't wear the matching hat yet, I'm still in denial and I am definitely not ready for the hat hair.

There was a point in my youth where all I would wear was black. Even though I am aware of the fact that many teenagers go through the black rebellious phase, I wonder now how I ever lived without colour. Colours are fantastic and they're everywhere. All too soon the world will turn to various hues of grey and it will remain thus at least until February of next year.

Friday brought with it some nasty weather. One could not walk five meters without being soaked through and umbrellas were useless wind-catchers. Just imagine, umbrellas turned into conical water-collecting devices by one devious gust of wind. To counter the nasty, rainy darkness, I got together with my trust Cookie Buddy and we baked up a fiercer storm than what took place out of doors.

  Oh my goodness, cookies and cupcakes everywhere. We ingested so much cookie dough that day that I'm surprised we didn't get stomach aches. From left to right we have cookies with either chocolate chips or a combination of white chocolate, dried cranberries and flax seed, following that we have coffee shortbread and finally, chocolate chip cookie dough cupcakes. 

And here I though people were only supposed to gain tons of weight around the holidays. Fortunately, we did not eat them all. Most of them were sold for charity and really, the company and the fun we had making all these sweets was better than the end results - but not by that much.

 

Happy Shoes

These are my new happy shoes; I have yet to take a picture of them on my own feet. Why are they happy shoes, you ask? Because I find it impossible to be even the least bit blue when wearing these shoes. I skip down the street, resisting the urge to do little dance steps. I really don't need to be that weird.

Good bye ankle and arch support, hello happy dance shoes.

Along side happy things I'm coming off a long weekend for Canadian Thanksgiving. Plied with delicious food I lost all motivation to work out for the rest of the week. Don't worry, I forced myself to get up at 5:30 this morning to get to my yoga class. Priorities, mine may be a little mixed up.

I'm taking great comfort in all the apples in my house right now. Piles and piles of apples, my friends, and all of them need to be eaten in some way. I made the following Cinnamon Crumble Apple Pie for Thanksgiving dinner and it was a huge hit. There's still more apples so I shall be making it again tonight.

Friday is going to be a cookie-baking day. Along with my cookie buddy (you'll meet her eventually), I shall be producing delectable treats. Which means I have to get off my lazy streak and research cookie recipes.

I'm having to constantly remind myself that I do, in fact, go to school and subsequently have readings to keep up with. Oh, Wether, how whiny you are and how such sentimentalities seem to drone on and on. This is a note for future societies: never let angsty young rich men get a hold of writing implements.

In writing news, I have opted to participate in this year's NaNoWriMo, which stands for National Novel Writing Month. If you have heard of it, good for you! If not, I'll just summarize by explaining that it is a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel over the whole of November. If you feel like spending even more time staring at an infuriatingly blank page then please, come join me. I have a few ideas floating around which I am hoping to better organize by the time writing begins.

It's still Fall in the City and I really want to get into the trees and capture all those great colours. Here's one for now. They say it will rain tomorrow. They tend to irritate me with these kind of predictions.

Step Out Your Door

Just because life is supposed to be fantastic doesn't mean it can't be difficult. I've been having a lot of difficult thoughts lately. Sometimes I just want to go back to the rock under which I spent my childhood and not deal with thoughts of career, life and ambitions.

I don't know what it is about me lately but I'm itching for an adventure of Hobbit-esque proportions. Futures filled with stable careers in architecture, various degree hunts, settling down and all that are not doing it for me. If you don't know me that well yet, I'll fill you in: I get bored of routine, really quickly. It tends to become a problem and leaves my bedroom floor piled with half-attempted hobbies.

To be completely honest, I'm even starting to doubt my desire to continue in the field of architecture. Yes, I know, I've been working toward this career since I graduated high school almost five years ago and and I even work in a firm (how dedicated to an idea can you get). Does this happen to many people?

Friends tell me that my life is far from boring and that I must be nuts to be super busy all the time. I don't feel busy, I feel like I'm in the most ornate of ruts ever constructed. This rut has a lot in it to distract me from the fact that it is, in fact, a long, deep depression in the Earth from which I would have a hard time extricating myself.

I'm not daunted by the idea that uprooting myself will cost money; money comes from working and I have a job that (contrary to what you might think) I do enjoy. It might be that I'm reacting to the onset of adulthood which I was all too eager to embrace.

I feel like I'm whining and that's what bothers me. All things considered there is nothing unpleasant about my existence or the entity that is myself. I do believe it was once written, in the voice of a wise wizard, that it's dangerous business, going out your door. Unfortunately for my sense of self-preservation, throwing caution to the wind and going off to explore seems to increase in appeal every day.

Night Frost

It's dark when I leave the house in the morning, and my clipped breaths cloud the air before me. I get to watch the sun rise - that's nice. The semester is already halfway over but I pay little mind to that. I'm more concerned by the fact that many of my activities will be over in a matter of weeks. There are only three classes left in both swing and belly dancing (think I dance enough?). Yoga and body works last barely to the end of semester.

There's a bonus to the Fall which resides in my oven. I get to bake, and bake, and in case I don't have enough sweets, bake some more. Canadian Thanksgiving takes place this coming weekend and although my family doesn't go into all those traditional foods I, at least, get to experiment.

The camera I carried with me today is not ideal for capturing the vivid colours of early Fall. It's happening gradually around the mountain on which rests my school.

Comfortingly, I have most of October to really dig into autumn photography. Ah, you would think I don't even have classes with work assigned to them.

I do, I swear. Academics would be appalled to discover at my lack of taking-seriously when it comes to assignments. I'm all about the fun.

That's why life is fantastic.

Sniffles and Things

It is officially Fall and, predictably, I have the sniffles. That doesn't mean I've stopped doing that which I love; it does stop me from making food for others, though. I'm being a good girl and doing everything possibly to speed along this recovery. I don't like missing days.

To stick it to these drippy sniffles, I finished two knitted hats (go me) and the pictures are up on my Ravelry profile. But to save you the clickings, I'll put them up here for your pleasure.

 Here we have Handsome Lad modelling Jayne Cobb's Cunning Hat. He likes things like Firefly so I gifted this toasty (albeit - in my opinion - ugly) thing to him. He's quite taken. I don't think it's ever coming off. Oh well, I brought this upon myself.








On the right is the Funky Colours Cable Cap. It has a tassel! When I'm not at school I'll do a proper modelling of it. It does not photograph well unless on a head. I admit: I love knitting hats. They're quick and there's so much to play with.

Promptly after finishing this hat I jumped into knitting matching wrist warmers. I'm a nut, but considering Canada's climate, it's beneficial.



Prior to becoming infected with these infernal sniffles I did a little baking. Two cakes were the result and unfortunately, I only managed to photograph one of them before they were devoured.

Behold!

 

Is it not beautiful? And if you find yourself wondering what the heck that is, I shall enlighten you.

Upside Down Plum Cake courtesy of the Food Network.  I highly recommend it if you find plums to be in season. It comes out looking like a little jewel of deliciousness. Also, it's a little more purple than the picture depicts. 

If you do feel inclined to make it, feel free to deviate from the recommended spices. I essentially turned mine into a spice cake topped (or based, it's upside down) with delightful plums. 

I do believe this makes up for my week long absence so until next we meet, I wish you happy hobbies and don't let the cold catch you.

The Fifth Toothbrush

In my recent musings I have alighted upon a realization: even with all the transitions I have undergone in the past few months I crave something more. Like an elusive but nonetheless irksome itch, I pawed at the problem, hoping to relieve my malaise. I have it. Or rather, I feel that I have a meagre grasp on the issue. I want to get on with my life.

It's not that I'm hung up on any slight or offence. No trauma haunts my thoughts, and finally, no long-ignored issue needs addressing. I mean, simply, that I want to get a place of my own and play at being an adult. As long as it remains a play at adulthood I can enjoy the game. Games are but facsimiles of more serious realities.

This is not just an impatience to grow up, as it was in high school or any number of other occasions where my youthful self aspired to maturity. But maturity is a matter of perspective and youthfulness is valuable.  So, to put it some better way, I want a place to be myself in my own company.


Right now, I sit ensconced in morning kitchen smell. The kitchen is not my own and the morning is a late one. Muffins, eggs, toast and coffee, such wondrous small pleasures. I adore breakfast. Actually, I love foods of all kinds but I do believe that I am not alone in my love of breakfast. For some, it is sacred ritual - the way to welcome a new day and a new stab at life. For others, it's a stopover on the way to other things, but there is still a root that resides in that first bite of toast or that first sip of coffee.

On that note, I think of baking. While the baking is simple the meditations on baking are complex. It's homey magic to see ones become wholes. Right now it's cookies or muffins or cake or something. Anything sweet and soft.

In case you're wondering as to the significance of the title, I'll leave it up to you. It's funny how others can find meaning in the phrases you find unimportant.

Morning Yoga

It's a particularly chilly morning, as if the weather is aware what month it is. I sometimes forget it's the other way around; seasons exist because the weather changes predictably. However, I like to believe that just because it is mid-September the weather shouldn't take a sharp dip towards cold.

It seems I have to earn my morning yoga session. I've already expressed my bemusement at the gym-atop-the-mountain but I fail to understand why I decide to ride a bike up that hill (or at least halfway). In summary, any pain I feel, I've inflicted upon myself. I am counting on that old adage to hold true: what doesn't kill me brings me a lot of pain but supposedly makes me stronger.

Or at least I think that's how it goes.

I admit, I am sore and going up and down stairs is misery itself. I shall persevere! I promised myself a more positive outlook on life and my place in it. Since I admit to having body image issues, I'm going by way of the healthier lifestyle. So far, I remain optimistic.

Sore... but optimistic.

Uphill, Downhill...Repeat

The quality of this image is not ideal; however, the content is significant. That man over on the right, in the vaguely discernible top hat is the veritable god of rock: Slash. Seeing him play was well worth the 4 hour drive to the middle of nowhere.

Although it renders this exercise pointless, I cannot begin to express the fantastic nature of this concert. Slash, his band, and singer Myles Kennedy have a live act that struck my very being (although that might have been the base vibrations). The band played some Guns 'N Roses songs (Civil War, my all-time favorite), some Velvet Revolver and some material from Slash's latest album.

I do not know why I was so aware of this next fact but I don't recall a rock concert being as rigidly timed as this one. Bands came and left and even encored exactly on the hour and half hour. They did one song for their encore, then promptly left. Perhaps I have illusions about rock, but I was under the impression that it is a more free-spirited medium.

Handsome Lad did inform me about a rather big name band that played in our City recently who decided that the imposed noise licence was not during an appropriate "rocking" time. They purposefully came onstage late, got through half their set and suddenly, at the hour appointed on the licence, the plug was pulled and the lights shut down.

City is not a small town, it is a metropolis. I do not know how true this story is. Personally, I would rather not believe that such things happen. I'm Cleopatra, Queen of denial.

~~

Good news! My uber-fitness regime began today. Memories of early mornings came flooding back as I rolled out of bed at 5:30 this morning. Yoga is worth it, I keep telling myself.

When I asked 'who builds a University on top of a mountain?' (which I do every morning) I was unaware to what extent the campus ... extended. I now include, in my query 'who puts a gym at the top of a mountain?'. Clearly, mine does. I must work out before I work out. And no, I do not consider a hike a 'warm up'.

All that being said, it really does feel good to work out. I hope this new routine assuages my guilt of spending so many hours in my day seated.

I wish you all a good week, I know I will be trying to have one.

Busy, Busy Life

It has come to my attention that I may have over-filled my schedule for the next few months. I won't bore you with the details, my dear reader. Suffice to say that I see the brick wall coming and instead of slowing my pace, I merely lower my head and sprint onward.

Thunderstorms filled the skies above my City last night. I haven't seen that much lightning for a long time, but I must say, we were due. Every few seconds the black sky was alight with bursts of white, so bright, I thought there was an aerial spotlight demonstration. I have no fear of thunderstorms. Actually, I enjoy them so long as I'm inside, where they are not.

So I'm sitting in one of the many lounges on campus, sipping a lemon iced tea and listening to the Backstreet Boys via online radio. A little nostalgia never hurt anyone, and I'd prefer to recall the happier times of my primary school days. One day, my reader, I shall have to show you the hill I have to brave in order to get to this confounded school. Perhaps I shall use such a photo to conclude my Life on Campus Week (of sorts).

It would appear that I have made a segue, let's go with it. I'm still getting over my shyness in sticking the camera up in front of random people. I have to realize, however, that in a four-university City, there are plenty of students toting cameras. In a way, I'm lucky that a photographer is not a foreign sight. I have two for you today.

It's not campus life per se, but I like it.

I love when I get moments like this.

 And, in promising that I shall overcome my shooting shyness I shall end this post. I wish you a most excellent midweek.

One Last Heat Wave

It is officially September in Montreal, folks. After an astoundingly humid week the weather has turned, as it always done, towards the colder side of things. I feel that Mother Nature, while maintaining the illusion that adheres to our little calendar, enjoys throwing the occasional curve ball to see how we react. And react we do.

This past week has been a blur of humidity in which I began my first semester at University. I love living in a city where everything is within reasonable walking distance. The campus is vast and there are many places where one can hide from the sun.

You have probably figured this out already, dear readers, but it must be said. In my quest to maintain semi-consistent updating habits, you have caught me at a time of low inspiration. More than likely this is due to the shift in my daily routine. Prior to this week I pedalled into the office every morning (earlier than most), settled myself into whichever desk I was occupying that week and proceeded to spew creativity into my morning writing. Trust me, that image was definitely more attractive in my head.

My morning serenity - and possibly my steaming mug of creamy coffee - contributes greatly to my creativity. For the past week, if I'm not in class, I'm traipsing up and down the Hill on which some brilliant scholars of old decided to place their University. One mountain on an entire island and my school has to be on top of it. On that note, three of the city's hospitals are also built onto the mountain. Questioning these decisions occupies a good portion of my morning hike (the rest is filled with under-breath cursing).

As I might have mentioned before, the primary focus of much of my artwork is people. I adore watching people when they don't know I'm watching them. I like to observe body language and especially facial expression. This habit probably explains why I took to photography. As I make my way briskly along campus paths, I see the lawns bestrewn with students in various states of repose. Each time I see a well places subject, I kick myself for leaving my camera at home because my backpack was too heavy that morning.

To amuse myself for this coming week (I find I like to make theme weeks) I shall take pictures of people on campus. With four Universities in its' downtown core alone, Montreal residents are used to having all manner of media equipment pointed their way. By means of this undertaking, I shall force myself both to use my camera and to update consistently. Two birds with one proverbial stone and all without animal cruelty.

I wish you all a good week, hopefully the colder seasons dawdle on their way to you.

Goals

I like having goals, especially short term ones. When I can imagine myself achieving something within, say, a week, working towards that goal becomes a lot more fun.

So right now I have a few goals (and a few things to look forward to besides). I have my first University class on Wednesday. I know that most people are not excited about the first day of school after the age of say ten, but I'm not most people. While I would not object to remaining in vacation mode for at least another month, twelve weeks will pass by as quick as can be.

I've signed up for a grand total of four fitness classes. Yoga, body works, Zumba and Belly Dancing. And yes, I will keep them up along with all my other juggling balls, thank you very much.

In two weeks time I shall be taking to the road (road trip, baby!) to see Slash in concert. If you don't know who Slash is, that's perfectly alright. In my mind he is awesome and worth driving four hours to the middle of nowhere to see.

I'm only a few short rounds away from finishing my knitting arm warmers. They would have been done on the train this morning except I forgot my smaller set of double-point needles. I need them for the decorative twists at the finger end. Also in knitting news, I eagerly await the arrival of the yarn I ordered so that I may complete the hat for the Handsome Lad. His birthday is in two weeks and while I have a history of giving late presents, I want this one to be on time.

Finally, on the topic of the Handsome Lad: he has given me out anniversary gift a little early (with good reason). We're getting dance lessons! If you could see me, dear readers, you would know how excited this makes me. He has given me the choice of Tango or Swing dancing. How can I choose?

Because I love giving you pictures, here's one from my weekend hiking trip:

Until next time!

Buyer's Remorse

I keep regret in a cookie jar in my mind. I don't like the feeling, although I probably shouldn't be associating it with cookies. Baked goods are my friend.

I signed up for Frosh at my University thinking it would be fun to do some legitimate first year stuff. I learned two things: 1) I'm turning into a crotchety old lady at 21 and 2) Not fitting in still hurts.

Sure there was drinking, and one should never complain about free drinks. However, the froshies were mostly young people from outside my province (and country) where the drinking age is higher than here. I did the alcohol thing when I turned 18 (as per legal drinking age, yes I'm boring), so getting drunk off my arse has lost its' novelty, and some of its appeal.

I was the freak for being older and a first year. The real reason for being in my situation doesn't matter. When someone hears that you're 21 and entering University in Canada, they feel  you might have screwed up along the way.

I didn't though, I just went about things the unconventional way. Doing so has landed me my job, my skills and the lifestyle I maintain. The only think I regret is being left behind by people my own age.

All that to say, I dropped out of Frosh after the first night, went over to a friends' place. We made dinner, had plenty of wine and it was better than any Frosh I could have had.

It might not be perfect, but it's my life.

Rainy Weekends

The weather was less than ideal this past weekend. It rained, all day, both days and it was cold. By cold I don't mean Canada Cold, I mean cold for August. With a good number of students hauling their summer-slack bums back to school, I can no longer be in denial.
New season, new adventure (as they are so wont to proclaim on television).

There is one saving grace of rainy weekends: hobbies. When it rains, there's no excuse for not being out of doors. So out came the needles, the pencils, the sketchpads and the books. I hobbied (yes, it's a verb today) to my little hearts' content. Since I'm still waiting for the yellow yarn I ordered too complete a hat, I did other things.


Arm warmer number one is complete! It was fun and surprisingly easy. Although it is true what they say about double pointed knitting being like wrestling and octopus.  All that remains is to fashion its' twin.  No longer shall my fingers freeze while typing all day at the office! I shall be warm, and snazzy to.


I do other things besides knit, don't worry. This won't turn into a blog about my knitting habits (although I might dedicate a section to that at some point). In general, this is about my life (which can be oh-so-amusing).


In a few weeks I get to re-start my belly dancing classes. It's great to find a form of dance and take to it. Although one would think that belly dancing makes your abdominal muscles flatter, the opposite is true. In fact, it is preferred that belly dancers be  curvaceous rather than stick-thin. It's more pleasing to the eye, apparently. Suits me though, having something to do with my little love handles and jiggle-bum. Sadly, I get a little proud when I see a video of Shakira doing the shimmy (the butt-shake thing) and knowing that I can do that!




And that right there... I wish I could do that. And one day I will. The dancer in the video has such supreme control. I can only aspire to that at the moment. My teacher tells me I have potential though, so I shall persevere. In two weeks time when I take up my coin belt once more, I shall be graceful, seductive and most of all, happy. Of course, we have to add supple. I shall be supple!

Have a great start to the week everyone. Cheers!

Portable Passtimes

After having a bit of a mental downturn last night I am back to fighting form on this is fair-weathered Friday morning. I never said life always has to be a ball of laughs.
Chilly weather in August does several things to me. It's an energy boost before my morning energy boost (coffee or what have you) and while I moderately resented having to put on full-length pants this morning I did not mourn the lack of humidity.

A nippy August day is a much more poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of summer-time in Canada. By and large I can ignore back-to-school commercials in my usual sophisticated manner (read slapping my hands over my ears and screaming 'la-la-la-la' at the top of my voice), a chilly breeze is harder to ignore.

As promised, I am still compiling stories from this past summer and while they may not be exciting, they're mine and I'm hoping that writing them down will cement them in my memory.

Today's topic is a double sided one. My focus this morning shall be the things that I carry with me. As this has been the Summer of Transition, there has been a bit of residual baggage.

Without further ado, here are the items which I have added to my magical life luggage (I like to think of it as a cross between Mary Poppin's carpet bag and the Luggage of Discworld fame).

1) Learning to cook and bake on my own. I have fond memories of standing on chair helping my mother compile a cake mix and getting progressively messier as I did so. Now I get very excited at the prospect of making something delicious to eat. Just look at that cake! It may not be perfect, but I did it, so all is well. And as I cooked, I learned. I learned the difference between baking powder and baking soda, and how much of either is too much. I learned how pouring love and effort into food makes it taste that much better. And I learned that adventures into new foods are almost always worthwhile.

2)  Stepping out of the hobbit hole. The Hobbit is one of my favorite books, I plan to read it to my children one day in the far far off future. The thing I loved most about it was getting to adventure with Bilbo Baggins, and to venture to far off lands for the first time. I'm not saying that reading the hobbit, way back when, gave me a taste for adventure. While I have to idea from whence the urge stems, I cannot deny its existence. I need to have adventures. I have already spoken of my camping foray in a previous post, but that was one of a few adventures. I participated in the Mitsubishi City Chase for the second year. City Chase is essentially like the amazing race except it takes place in one city and the racers are limited to using public transit and their own two feet. It's a great time every year, even if my team didn't finish on time or all the challenges. And heck, I got to pole dance in The Village.

3) More books than I can carry. While I have always been a book worm, I'm broadening my horizons by diving into genres I have not yet tried. My latest foray is into travel diaries (for lack of a better description). I know that these shall in no way replace my own travel experiences, but they whet the palette. Books like Michael Palin's Full Circle get me very excited to explore the world in my own way. And of course, I want to write about it. The world is huge and I only take up about 2 cubic meters of it.

4) Needles, needles everywhere. Knitting is a renewed hobby. I tried it once when I was too young to get it, but I have overcome the initial frustration and am now... essentially and sort of embarrassingly... addicted. I'm amazed at how quickly it got into my head. Projects are lining up in less-than-orderly fashion to be tackled and I am, for now, undaunted. Let the needles fly and the hats fall where they may!

I think that's enough out of me for one day. There is one more week left of Official Summer and I'm going to enjoy it.

I wish you the same joy.

Sharing With the Class

I stand at the front of the room. It's intimidating in its' pristine neatness. Rows of desks gleam, almost in anticipation. A meticulously penned name tag is affixed to the front of each one, proclaiming its' occupant.

The beige ceiling tiles, yet unadorned with colourful art projects give the room a cavernous air. My palms are sweating and I'm backing up against the clean chalkboard. My hand reaches up and grazes the perfect white cylinders.

I am swallowed up by silence and blank stares. It's the first day of school, I don't know the people around me yet I am told to address them. Heart pounding, I finger the hem of my new t-shirt, bought especially with the aim of warding off dork-dom. I can't put this off any longer; the teacher is waiting for me to speak. Have I been standing at the front of the classroom for hours in silence? I must look so dumb, I'll never live this down.

I'd better at least say something. After the first word it won't be so bad and maybe I'll ever impress people with the stories of my amazing summer vacation. Then I might stand a chance of being liked. If I cannot be cool I can at least fly under the radar with 'liked'. 

I take a deep, albeit shaky breath and begin to recount my summer vacation:

'Um.'

~~~

No matter how hard I try, I can never overcome that very first 'um' of the year. Like I mentioned in my last post, I shall be giving a lot of thought to my accomplishments of the past summer. This is an exercise in looking to the bright side. Of course, such reminiscing brought back vivid images of the very first days of grade school.

I am no longer that awkward little girl with a pre-braces smile and hair done up in embarrassingly short pig tails. I so wanted to wear my hair long like the other girls.

Just over a decade later and I like myself much more than I used to. But this piece is not about my self-perception. I cover that enough when I speak on Operation Beautiful. I promised you stories of my summer vacation, and stories you shall have, my friends.

On my summer vacation I helped a good friend design and paint her new apartment. While I am sure that I will do this many more times in the coming years, the first few are always representative of a great transition in which I soon hope to take part.

Moving Out. It deserves to be capitalized.

One of the greatest endeavours in a young adults' life is the ritual of freeing oneself from the childhood home. Some are blessed with an easy escape. Others have to go through painful separations which often require crow-bars. Some leave as soon as they are able, others choose to bask in the parental tent for a much longer time. Either is acceptable if the aforementioned young person feels it's the right thing for them.

Philosophy gives way to paint which gives way to good friends and pretty good wine. I do not envy my friend the plaster dust which clung to her hair and skin for weeks on end. I do not begrudge her having to wash her long brown hair in the sink because the bathroom was freshly painted and could not be exposed to moisture. I greatly enjoyed helping though. We picked colours with due consideration and grew very excited about the subtle differences between chocolate brown and therapeutic mud (names which I am making up).

I has taken a few months of work since it had to be done amid other projects. But it is nearly there. Just in time for the new school year. I shall of course post picture of the finished project because I am proud of all my work and all my friends. And as a humourous aside, if I'm going to crash at a friends' place after a night of drunken debauchery, it might as well be a nicely decorated place.

More stories will come as I think of them.

Cheers everyone, enjoy the vestiges of summer if that is indeed your case.

It's Like Thunder

When I feel at a loss for inspiration I often turn to song lyrics. I'd prefer that to discussing the weather, although in the case of today's title, it's a two for one deal.

This week is my last full week of work before I dive headfirst into University. I am very grateful to have a job that allows me to be so flexible with my hours. This week also starts off with a bang, literally. Thunderstorms abound due to massive amounts of humidity. I love a good thunderstorm, I would just prefer not to have to walk to the train in one. Lightning tends to make me sizzle.

I must confess to procrastination; it starts early this week and that's not a good sign. I still have to organize my room before school starts because I absolutely cannot abide clutter when I need to work. I went school supply shopping, which still fills me with child-like glee at having shiny new notebooks and pens that won't last long in their current state.

August is the sprinter month. I awoke one day and it was August 1st, then I blinked and I'm two weeks from the end of it all. It's a good thing that I am not one to make lists of things to accomplish this summer because I might be disappointed. I prefer to be optimistic (it's a new project, work with me) and since being reminded of the good things in life is the point of this blog let us go to the flip side.

With one week left of "official summer" I'm going to give myself an assignment.  I will think of all the things I did this summer of which I am proud. The bonus assignment to this will be to write about the things I most loved doing and the moments that struck me.

In a country that boasts (though not often enthusiastically) five to six months of hard winter, summer is a gift to be cherished. While we make the best of the winter months and have oodles of fun doing so, summer brings out an infectious joie-de-vivre.

Since I'm in the business of making life fantastic, I feel this is a good project to undertake at any major transition. We all should have things of which we are proud. If all goes well, I shall find some great stories.

On my summer vacation, I ...

I Ride a Bike in a Skirt

My small thrill of the week is making my morning bike ride to the office in a skirt. Because of the difficulties this entails I try to limit my skirt-wearing to once a week. It would not be so bad, I suppose, if I didn't have a preference for skirts that sit just above my knees. The blessing is that today's skirt does not like to get caught in every passing breeze ( I own two like this, I don't know why).

There's nothing quite like feeling the rush of wind by your upper thighs when the streets are still pretty quite for a morning in a bustling metropolis. Also, it makes me less self conscious when I see women getting on bikes in dresses; to me this is even more challenging.

Every day lately I've been getting off the morning train and getting my first view of the city. As cheesy as it sounds I am filled with a great love for the place in which I live. I know a lot of people can talk to no end about their home towns. Good. Let it stay that way. While I have a comparatively small sense of nationalism, my adoration for my home city rises like the mountain I see every morning.

I celebrate life by riding a bike downtown in a skirt, and loving every minute of it. I wish you all an equally joyous experience.

Thoughts, and Summer in the City

As far as things go, I did not have a very eventful weekend. Sure I played a two hour soccer game in non-stop downpour and starting knitting my first hat but really, nothing special.

Aside, you are never more miserable in the rain than when your underwear is wet. That, I feel, is the apex of rain-induced misery. 

However! Life being what it is (fantastic), things turned up, like the sun for instance. I love how the little things can cheer me up this early in the week. Like my morning jaunt to work on the City's snazzy little rent-a-bikes. I adore these things and I can't wait to zip around more often when I begin classes in three weeks time.

Admittedly, it is all very intimidating. The going to University thing, that is. While I am in no way anxious about the administrative process of beginning life at a new school - let's face it, I've done this at least 4 times now - there are other factors that leave me vibrating with excitement.

Such as? You shall surely ask. Well for one, I get to enter a peer group of people who are close to me in age and ambition. I get to play at being an adult more than I ever have before and I like it. I get to start belly dancing again, which is grand. And finally, it's just plain exciting to be where all my friends started out two years prior. I get to be where I have felt I belonged for the past 4 years. I don't regret much of taking more time in CEGEP (except possibly that last year) but when all is said and done, I'm glad to be free of it and eager to begin anew.

Here's to transition and the thrill of anticipation. Summer is not yet over but we have plenty to look forward to.

Cheers.

A Little Bit of Honey

Have I ever mentioned that I love baking? It's something I don't mind repeating.
I love baking.
I enjoy watching simple things turn into something meaningful and complex by the work of my hands, I love watching cakes and muffins rise in the oven. I love icing cupcakes. Most of all, I love eating what I make!

I was given a very large zucchini yesterday, courtesy of a co-worker with a farm connection. With it I decided to make zucchini honey cakes. The recipe came courtesy of the Suburban Yogini. 

You can find the recipe on her blog, and I'm more than willing to share (the link, maybe not the muffins :P)

Contemplation

This past week it would seem I have found a lot of time for introspection. More than likely, it has something to do with my participation in Change the Way You See, Not the Way You Look week courtesy of Caitlyn and her Operation Beautiful. I composed my two last posts with the aim of dealing with the negative issues I've had in my life. Afterwards, I spent a lot of time going over the motivations behind those posts.

I asked myself many questions:

"Do I really think that badly about myself?"
"Is my image situation really as disheartening as I make it sound?"
"Why do I compare myself to other women?"
"When did I stop being so hard on my academics and begin beating myself up about my looks?"

"Do I really have anything to complain about?"

Honestly, my answers to these questions can vary depending on quite a few factors. After writing the posts about my body image issues I seriously started to question where I came up with those ideas.

This particular train of thought gave rise to a serious examination of my goals, motivations and expectations. Do you want to know something?

I don't have a clue.

My opinions oscillate so much on a daily basis that I might be radiating some kind of electro-static field. The truth is, I'm still searching, experimenting, failing and succeeding. At 21 years of age I'm not done trying on personalities and habits for size. The good news is that so far, a few things have stuck.

Upon taking a closer look at my habits, I noticed that I'm a bit flighty with my interests. But at this point in my life I feel it might be a good thing not to be too into my little rut. I've tried on yoga and want more of it. I've taken up a dance fitness program called Zumba and adore it. I've discovered a natural talent for belly dancing and have become hopelessly addicted.

Oh my, you must be thinking. Such a busy girl. How can she find time to be insecure?

Easily, my friends. It is extremely easy to doubt yourself when doing so many things because the reason I pile so much onto my figurative plate is because I'm trying to distract my mind from my insecurities. Perhaps avoidance is not the best policy. Which is why I am grateful for having discovered Operation Beautiful and so many of the talented and inspirational bloggers who have reached out through that organization.

I have been given the opportunity to take a long, hard look at myself and for once, I'm not focusing on my love handles or my cellulite-speckled thighs. The truth is, I love what I do and I love myself. I do this in spite of my many issues, and if keeping busy is they way to prevent my mind from turning to darker places then it's probably not the worst thing I could be doing.

Humidity and You

Humidity is not my friend. I have an affinity for thunderstorms not so much because of the noise and the light - although that is fun - but because more often than not, thunderstorms chase away humidity.

I once heard that it's not the temperature that will kill you, it's the humidity. Very true. Perhaps in more ways than one. More precisely, it manages to kill my body as well as my self esteem. So while we're on the second day of Change the Way You See, Not the Way You Look week, I'll keep up my tangent of issues of image and self confidence.

A while back I came across a blog called The Seventeen Magazine Project in which a young lady attempted to live an entire month according to the Gospel of Teen Magazines. While I am no longer of the age (although I don't think I ever enjoyed those things) that subscribes to that sort of publication it brought up some interesting discussions.

This is where humidity comes in. One of the entries in the Project concerned hair, and the categorization that occurs within the realm of hair care products. To summarize, the author expressed frustration at the fact that "Normal" type hair products specified the type of hair found on the majority of Caucasian people (women in this case). All others of the "Abnormal" type, were typical of minorities, ethnic or otherwise. Her frustration was not limited to hair care products as this method of categorization covers everything from skin type to body composition. And this is where I come in.

My hair is technically "normal" when it comes to product selection. But this bothers me. The same way I have to decide whether my skin is oily (gasp) or dry (faints) when it cannot possibly be what they call normal. I also would like to know who made the decision as to what was normal. Come to that, why must we have a normal type of skin, or hair, or fingernail?

When humidity comes along my hair performs what I call The Curl. This is when no matter how much effort I put into styling it, it will shift into a mass of lumps and sticky-out bits. Can't this be normal, I ask you? I'm not the only one with this problem, I'm sure of it.

So here is my conclusion for today. Don't let labels get you down. There is no reason why one consistency of hair should be the norm while the rest are "difficult". Ladies (and gents), cast aside the stigma of "normal" and embrace the wonders that are your features. They make you, you. Since you are in no way inferior, neither are they. That is a good thing.

Flying Thigh High

I came across an interesting post on a forum I frequent which led me to http://www.operationbeautiful.com. I cannot help thinking that this is a good idea. One cannot deny the amount of negativity we are faced with on a daily basis - whether on the Internet or out on the street - and any small effort to counteract it is worth supporting.

I could spend infinite pages bemoaning the image-obsessed society in which most of us reside. Many do, but I don't wish to start the week off on a negative note. You'll understand, I'm sure.

So in honour of Change the Way you See, Not the Way You Look week, I'll tell you a little story about my battle versus my thighs.

As a young lass I participated in many sports. I try to keep up now that I'm older, but I didn't have a full time job, or university courses then. What remains of my active youth is my love of soccer, swimming and cycling. Added to this is a penchant for dance, hiking and yoga. I try to keep up. Time-wise as well as budget-wise, it can be unrealistic. All this to say that I developed large thigh muscles at a young age.

Then the more sedentary lifestyle of higher education and working kicked in. What can I say? Muscle turned to fat and I found myself with tights and hips that, in my mind, were less than satisfactory. All of a sudden, every woman on the street sported slim, gracefully turned thighs that in no way touched and made me feel like I stood on tree trunks instead of legs.

It became very discouraging to go shopping (not an activity I particularly enjoy but who would object to some nice clothes?) when I could find no pants that didn't turn into sausage wrappings around my upper legs. Loose and flowing seemed an unattainable dream.

I'm not a large woman, if anything I am considered to be of an athletic build (without the stamina) and I can be very happy with myself on most days. I do struggle with self-depreciation and body image, who doesn't? Sometimes I cannot stop myself from comparing myself to every woman that saunters by. When I look down and see my thighs jiggle like the belly of one Saint Nick, my heart falls to about three storeys below me. Wearing skirts only reminded me of how I could feel the sweaty masses rubbing together and spiral would start early.

This kind of experience is relevant to those whose jobs entail long hours of sitting in front of a computer or a desk or just plain being seated. To counted it, I started taking the morning train to a different stop in the heart of the city in which I work and walking to the office. I try to cycle or walk before I drive and keep up with a fitness routine of sorts. Of course, it's not going to work unless you make a change to your attitude towards yourself.

I could make a life-altering statement right here in this post but I know myself. I know that even if I write about it, it will not make it so. Instead I have been trying to keep a positive attitude about myself and my much-chagrined thighs. I have many, many other redeeming features and my Handsome Lad insists that there is nothing left to be desired about me. You know how that goes. He says those things because he loves me, right? Not so much because they might be true. Oh the paths the depressed mind can wander.

Some of you out there might think I have nothing to complain about. You're right, I don't . At least not when it comes to my looks. But self examination is a funny thing and it can go both ways. However, if you don't like something about yourself, you can either change it, or embrace it as just another part of you. The human body is the sum of many wonderful parts and it is impossible that not one of those is worth appreciating.

I shall remind everyone today, including myself that there is nothing wrong with how you look. In fact, if I had to make one conscious effort today, it would me maintaining the belief that I am beautiful, both inside and out and I'm worth something in this world.

Everyone is beautiful, everyone is unique. This realization is worth the hard-fought attitude adjustment. In my mind, all people are worth at least a second look so I should be giving myself one as well.

Cheers everyone. Stay beautiful and smile.