Our Pacific Coast Procrastination

How does a Type A, list-making, ubër-organized, and overly methodical middle-aged woman successfully procrastinate the massive amounts of cleaning and purging still necessary in order to successfully facilitate a summer move without suffering from massive amounts of self-immolating guilt?

By taking off for Alaska, of course.

There is method to the madness.

You see, here's my theory.

If I travel far enough away from the mounds of still-to-be-completed tasks on my to-do list, I can happily reside in a fantasy world of my own creation whereupon my return, the packing faeries and rainbow-coloured relocation unicorns will have magically occupied the house and taken over all remaining tasks in anticipation of our August deadline. It may sound immature and irresponsible, but please indulge my world of make-believe. It is all that seems to be holding me together right now.

And so....

Tomorrow we embark on our latest adventure, or as I have taken to calling it, "Our Pacific Coast Procrastination." The bags are packed, the camera is charged, and the anti-emetics are safely within reach. (This trip will see us board a myriad of planes, automobiles, ferries, buses, cruise ships, and possibly a train or tram. I place the odds of projectile vomiting at even-money.) We will be travelling through a variety of temperatures and frankly I feel I deserve high props for not escaping to the safety and coziness of tropical climes. Ok. It won't be sub-Arctic, but it is June and I am going to a land of rapidly-melting glaciers. (This space does not tolerate climate change deniers, so keep your dismissive comments to yourselves, please.) Can you say "Deviating from the comfort zone?"

And...once again I will be chronicling our exploits in this space. I hope that maybe one or two of you might follow along if for no other reason than it would be nice to know that I have an audience approximately the size of a minyan. My ego is in sorry need of some stoking.

It is a funny and slightly ironic thing, but as we have been continuing the plodding process of cleaning and disposal, I came across this.

Apparently it has always been my modis operandi to record travel experiences. This particular "blog" was a 1980 high school music department trip to the UK. Leafing through it made me wince just a bit at the juvenile language structure and the horrendous penmanship, but the memories it inspired are priceless. My parents, also in the throes of their own move, have come across several cassette recordings The L'il Bro and I made documenting some of our family vacations. Journalling and me, we go way back. I find comfort in archiving my experiences. Memory is a fleeting thing. These records bring them flooding back. Social media has made the process so much easier, but the daily exercise of transferring my emotions into words helps me keep the experiences alive forever.

So off we go. Now if somebody could contact the packing faeries and rainbow-coloured relocation unicorns to inform them the coast is clear, I would be eternally grateful.

An "Out of Her Skin" Optimist's Guide to Her Birthday

Optimism doesn't come easily to me. I prefer to think of myself as a "cynical realist" combined with a hint of wondrous faith when the unexplainable occurs. But I find myself leading a lonely existence in today's overindulgent age of "feel-good" mantras, positive affirmation statements, unsolicited mental health advice, and generally junk science studies on how optimism can lead to longer lifespans. What's a generally cranky curmudgeonly bitch supposed to do in a such a world?

But, it is my birthday and I have been feeling the love all day long, so I will step out of my aforementioned comfort zone and give you my optimistic view of the world for this one specific day. Hey. If you can't live it up on your birthday then when can you?

There are some really great things about birthdays, mostly of the free and discounted variety. I was absolutely feeling the love from the barista at Starbucks when she handed over my complimentary soy mocha frappuccino light. (I even sprung for the more highly caloric grande! What the hell.) And I knew that it must be my special day when the Blue Jays shop sent me a code offering 15% off my next purchase. I must be spending way too much cash on my boys of summer for them to offer up a birthday discount, but loyalty is loyalty and mine is being rewarded.

I have to love a day when even the most ardent of meat eaters will acquiesce to lunch at a vegan restaurant in order to make me happy. It is even more incredible that they actually enjoyed their meals. A birthday miracle on par with the virgin birth.

The best gifts are the most thoughtful; like the chef's knives that my mother purchased for me months ago without knowing that I had been secretly plotting to abscond with hers, or The Husband replacing my Roots purse that literally fell apart from overuse. (I am not a big purse lover, but I missed this one desperately.)

Did you know that Herbie the Love Bug was number 53, the same as my age this year? I had forgotten until The Husband reminded me and decided that it would be hysterical for him to call me his "Little Love Bug" for the year. (My kids might call this a "dad joke".) I think that I would rather he call me Herbie than suffer that indignity.

The interwebs have an incredible way of making one feel loved even if it takes only a minute to comment. Facebook is great for this. My feed has been jammed all days with virtual cards, messages, flowers, and photos. It is kind of amazing how taking just a moment out of one's day to express felicitations can alter the recipient's mood. Little things like this really matter, even to a cynical realist.

End of the year birthdays tend to get lost in the hustle and bustle of the holidays. Who wants to brave a store for something as trivial as a birthday gift when the other December events have simply drained one of a year's quota of enthusiasm? We who were born at the end of a calendar year are used to feeling like a bit of an afterthought. But, today that simply wasn't the case. The sun was shining, the temperatures were grand, the people were smiling, and the caring and consideration was abundant from all. Days like today remind me of a favourite line from a favourite film.

Clarence: Remember, George: No man is a failure who has friends. (It's a Wonderful Life 1946)

Thanks for the birthday love. Tomorrow, I return to my cranky, cynical self. Well....maybe.

Gratitude

I have a poet friend who has been tweeting about gratitude. She is revelling in the small stuff. While most of us ignorantly blow by these everyday occurrences, she is instead taking the time to pause and acknowledge all those details which makes her life special. I have been impressed by her buoyancy and even more by her immersion in the positive.

The world can be a pretty unforgiving place. We are continually bombarded by images that display the underbelly in our communities. Housewives getting mean with each other for the sake of entertainment. Politicians behaving badly. News stories from around the world so disturbing that they challenge and erode our very core beliefs. Natural acts so desperate that make us question our faith. And yet, amongst the darkness there is light. Amongst the decay there is new growth.

The Husband and I spent last evening with good friends. 5 couples who got together to share some wine, some good food, some laughter, and some great conversation. We chatted late into the evening about the current events of the day; our rogue mayor, the disaster in the Philippines, and more importantly about our everyday lives. It was sometime between the lasagna and the coffee that I realized just how fortunate I was to be in the company of such loving and caring people, and how each and every one of us has something happening in our lives right now for which we should be truly grateful. There is recovery from illness, a couple of upcoming weddings, a new grandchild on the way, and a new job that is the fulfilment of a life's dream. There was pride in our voices as we talked about children making their own way in the world. There was excitement expressed about upcoming trips down south and there was wonder communicated about the daily growth and escapades of a toddler. Our lives have indeed been blessed.

It won't always be so. There will be difficult times and even heartbreaking ones. But if we can hold onto the little things in our lives that remind us of life's purpose, it will make the journey so much more comfortable.

Yesterday my poet friend tweeted that she was grateful for inspiration. I jokingly asked her to send some my way so that I might be able to complete this month's blogapalooza.

She did just that with her heart, presence, and wisdom. So today I am grateful that I have such a creative and inspirational friend.

Civil Discourse

During this time of Shabbatical, I have been consciously attempting to disengage myself from what I view as a myriad of toxic online behaviour, mostly in the realm of politics. I can't say that I am always successful at this, but I am trying. I have stopped visiting sites that have as their sole purpose the smearing of one political belief or another. I refuse to engage with Facebook or Twitter "friends" in their constant barrages of ugly partisan posts, nor have I passed on or shared such content. (I will admit to keeping the pressure on in support of Women of the Wall, but I view that struggle as much a religious fight as it is political.) It is no secret that I have strong opinions on many (most?) subjects that fall into this category, and very often I have used this space to express my displeasure, incredulity, or even disgust on a myriad of issues. I have rarely shied away from a civil discourse on any subject, provided that all opinions were taken into account, and slurs, epithets, and stereotypical categorization were avoided. But lately, I have found myself placed in the potentially awkward position of actually  "unfriending" a few of my Facebook and Twitter associates because of the lack of decorum that they have displayed in the troublesome language used in their posts. Why awkward? Well, some of these people are quite close to me in the real world. So, it is to these few that I address the following.

Dear Friend,

I have recently noted that you are quite active in the social media world, and as we are virtually connected, your posts and interests have become regular fixtures in my news feeds. I am always interested in the many voices and sides to the debates of the day, but please allow me to offer you a bit of advice if you hope to engage me, and others like me who are not necessarily on your side of the political divide, into reading what you have posted. (Note: I am speaking to both liberals and conservatives here!)

1. Using words like "hypocrite", "liar", "looney", "idiotic" or "doltish" in your pre-posting comment is likely to dissuade me from reading whatever it is you have put up. Insulting me before the fact is bad behaviour that is most likely to result in your post being flushed. 
2. Using past bad liberal behaviour (and there has been a ton!) as an excuse for present bad conservative behaviour (and there has been a ton!) or vice-versa is a straw man's argument that does nothing to move along the discourse. Stay in the present or I will probably just delete what you have posted.
3. Arrogance is never a good way to sway me to your side of the fence. If you have valid arguments, make them. But, please don't act and speak to me as if you are morally superior simply because we differ.
4. Personal attacks on any of our leaders will get you absolutely nowhere with me. Calling our mayor out for his corpulence is extremely bad form, as are jokes about our premier and her sexuality. Language matters and it is time that we all took a great deal more care in how we use it.

Rabbi SaraLeya Schley teaches:

Jewish mysticism teaches us that we are all essential parts of the One Soul, each of us sent into our lives to fulfill our unique soul missions. Without each and every one of us, the Great Name, Sh’mei Raba, is incomplete. When we each speak our unique truths from a place of centeredness and integrity, our words are indeed the words of the Living God, infused with the quality of Divine inspiration. Dialogue then becomes a spiritual practice in which we see and acknowledge each other as sparks of the Divine. We consciously open our hearts wide enough to hold diverse opinions, even those which seem to be so opposite to our own that we cannot imagine resolution. In this sanctuary, mishkan, of our unified hearts, holding each other in love and respect, we create - with our sacred intention and deep listening - the possibility of shalom and reconciliation and we can birth radically new solutions, heretofore never even imagined.

Look, friend. I am not suggesting that you and I will ever see eye to eye on politics. Our individual opinions are simply too ingrained. I am however, suggesting that I could possibly understand you better and see some merit in some of your viewpoints if only you might present the articles without ugly editorializing. If you find this beyond your comfort zone, I understand. But please also understand that our online relationship will come to an end. 

Yours in friendship and Shabbat Shalom,

Dawn

1962: It Was a Very Good Year

A great deal happened in 1962.

-John Glenn became the first American to orbit the earth

-Johnny Carson took over hosting duties on the Tonight Show

-Pete Best was dumped by the Beatles and Ringo Starr came aboard the Fab Four

-JFK played chicken with Khruschev in Cuba

-Marilyn Monroe died at the tender age of 36

-The Maple Leafs were on a roll and once again took home Lord Stanley's hardware

-One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest was published

-Lawrence of Arabia hit theatres

-Matthew Broderick, Rosie O'Donnell, Tom Cruise, Steve Carell, Roger Clemens, and Demi Moore were all born

And...some of my all-time favourite people came into the world. The closest friends of my youth. I wasn't around for most of it considering that I was born on the third last day of that year, making me the baby of the group, but...1962 was still a very good year. (BTW-I used to hate my December birthday. I always was the last to do everything. Now, in the throes of middle-age...It's not so bad!)

When talking with a few of those friends earlier this year about our upcoming dates with destiny and the impending half a century that we were all due to mark, we hit upon this idea of a mass birthday party. Given that our birthdays were obviously spread out across the twelve months of 2012, the idea of holding a get together as close to the middle of the summer seemed only logical. Our resident organizer took it upon herself to contact the group and a brainstorm was born. After much haggling over the calendar, (so many schedules to sync) the seven of us, our spouses, and a few offspring gathered last evening to celebrate 50 years together. It seemed only fitting. We were all so close-knit growing up, that ringing in this milestone was a natural. Yes, it is true that we all have our own lives now. Careers, families, and travels have all interceded. But it was amazing how easy it all seemed. Old patterns. Old jokes. Old stories. Like time and distance had never separated us.

There was more grey and less hair. A few more lines and a few more pounds. But none of that mattered. It was like we had never left each other for lives that demanded to be lived.

We had party favours. CDs with our favourite songs from another generation and retro candy came in personalized loot bags. Old photos provided some frightening reality checks on fashion faux pas and 70s hairstyles. And laughs. Lots and lots of laughs.

Many people have inquired about my feelings on this upcoming birthday. I have decided to embrace it for all its glory. And, why not? What's not to embrace. I look at 50 as a presentation of opportunities. Opportunities to try new things, to see new places, and to meet new people. But I refuse to dismiss the ones that got me here. Last night we celebrated it all! Happy Birthday 1962. You were indeed a very good year.