Every day, twice a day, I get the weather report for the coming week delivered to my email in-box. I love getting weather by mail.

We Canadians are enamored of our weather. Nay, I would even venture to say that some are a bit obsessed with the weather. You can’t strike up a conversation with a random Canadian person-in-the-street without discussion of the weather. We have a weather network, which is probably the most-watched channel in the winter. I will myself admit to having the Weather Network on, day in and day out, over Christmas holidays. (And that’s not only because they let the newbies work over the holidays and things get so screwed up. Oh no. Although that IS some good times, I can tell you.)

And so, when the Weather Network offered to deliver daily forecasts direct to my inbox — well now, there was an offer I couldn’t resist.

Twice daily I check my trusty weather report to see what the weather will be. (Or, more accurately, I check my oft-wrong weather report to see what the weather probably will not be.) And sometimes, I will share it with BDH.

When we’re sitting together in the evenings, each on our separate computers, I will ask him, “Honey, would YOU like to know what the weather will be this week?” This sets the tone for the discussion. He responds, “Why, of COURSE, dear! I would LOVE to hear the weather forecast!” Clearly, at this point, the tone of mocking and silliness belies his need to know, and my need to tell him. But it makes us laugh.

And so I begin, with a singsong-y weather girl voice, full of unneccessary enthusiasm and enunciation. Occasionally, I’ll throw in the appropriate meteorological hand gestures in front of my invisible weather map. “Tomorrow, clouds coming in in the afternoon”… sweeping hand gesture… “with a high of 6 degrees. Tomorrow evening”…dramatic pause… “chance of showers, and 4 degrees.”

Yesterday, I read the weather report to BDH. I went merrily through the week, cheerfully, hand gestures like a meteorological maestro. And then, “…and on Friday, chance of FUCKING STUPID SNOW FLURRIES…”

And I finished the week’s weather. Once the weather was done — silence.

Finally, BDH said, “Well honey, THAT was LOVELY.” “Thank you,” I beamed.

Then he said, “It kind of went a little… CRAZY… there in the middle…”

That’s the thing about Canadian weather. You never know what you’re going to get.

I’ve had a week full of decisions. I’ve had to try, in some very complicated situations and some not so complicated, to make the right decision. One thing I have learned is that the “right” decision is in the eye of the beholder.

I am learning a lot, however. I am learning that all a person can do is to make the best decision they can given the facts they have before them. I am learning that a good decision is not necessarily the popular decision. I am learning that despite your best intentions, you cannot please everyone with your decisions. And I am learning that this is okay.

I am the type of person who agonizes over all the details, worries about all the people involved, frets over what the “best” decision will be. It upsets me that I may upset others. So sometimes, making the right decision can be an excruciating back-and-forth with myself of possibilities and ideas and repercussions. Sometimes, the anticipation of fallout is worse than the results of my decision actually bear out.

But in the end, when you make a decision and choose a course of action, some people will be happy, and some will be pissed off. Some decisions will be easy, and some will involve lessons to be learned. Some will turn out to be good decisions, and others will show you a better way for next time. And that is just the way it works. Ultimately, you have to be happy with the decisions you made. You cannot control outcomes. You cannot take ownership of others’ feelings. You just have to be at peace that you did you best.

And I know the old adage “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” is frequently quoted for a good reason. But I am okay with that. In the end, you go on faith in yourself, that you have done what you thought was best given the knowledge available to you. And if that is the case, no matter the fallout, your decision was a good one.

I need to get out more.

It’s been a beautiful week for weather. For November, it has been gorgeous — cold nights, foggy, frosty sunrises, and warm, bright, sunny days. Absolutely gorgeous. And for one reason or another — being sick, having to tend to a troublesome site online, lots of blogging to do — I’ve been indoors almost all week.

I saw a blogging job advertised online that intrigued me, where you blog about the city you live in. I thought it sounded fun, writing about this city I like so much, and telling the world what a wonderful place it is to live. I read the ad, and then I mentioned it to BDH. I described the position, how it would involve writing articles about various parts of the city and sights and sounds, and taking pictures of things here. He said, “Well, to write about the city, it would involve you actually going OUT and ABOUT in the city, wouldn’t it?” He was being sarcastic, a bit. We don’t go out much, and I have become a homebody for the most part during the last year.

But it got me to thinking, about how little I know about this city anymore. When I first moved here, I lived in an apartment in a big old house downtown, and I walked everywhere. I was part of the city. I loved going to shops and restaurants and being involved. I ate out, I frequented local businesses like the neighbourhood butcher, and I knew what was playing at the local art-house cinema. But that was almost 15 years ago, and jobs, time, and energy have all but stopped that lifestyle for me.

So here it is, Friday afternoon, and I was downstairs in the kitchen loading the dishwasher. We have big patio doors to let in the light, and I can look out over the conservation area behind our house. As I was puttering around and chatting to my cat Cinnamon, I saw a flash out in the trees. I went to the window, and there was a small deer grazing in the conservation. The flash was him flicking his white tail. I watched him, Cinnamon in my arms purring and watching too, for quite a long time. He was tiny, not even three feet tall, but beautiful and healthy. He moved along the fenceline, sampling plants from everyone’s gardens, enjoying the quiet autumn afternoon.

And I got to thinking: THIS is what I love about this town. I love the green spaces. I love the way man and nature live side by side, and man respects the nature around him. I love that we are an eco-friendly, animal-centric town, energized by the ubiquitous university kids (even though they sometimes make me a little nuts). THIS is the city I want to talk about. This is what I love.

Cinnamon and I watched the deer as he slowly wandered off and went about his business. I thought maybe it might not be so bad to apply for that job. And I resolved that while the weather holds, I will get out and go for a walk in the conservation.

I had a few errands to run and things to take care of today: getting the plates on my car renewed, groceries, that kind of thing. I was not inspired. But I got my poop in a group and headed out this morning.

As I started to drive up my street, I happened upon The Mayor’s Wife (not the actual mayor, but the busybody we call The Mayor) and her daughter getting the mail. I was feeling a little peevish as I drove towards them; they make me peevish, by nature of their very existence some days. I toyed with the idea of fiddling with the radio or something as I drove past in an effort to NOT see them. But then, I thought, “Screw it.” And I smiled and waved. I don’t know why. I just did.

Then, off to the license bureau. I pulled in and spent a few minutes filling in paperwork in the driver’s seat, then got out and prepared for the wait. As I got to the door, I noticed a woman on the other side of it kind of scurry away. I opened the door and walked in to find the place was empty. The scurrying woman was actually the clerk, who headed back behind the desk, while apologizing for getting in my way. She had been adjusting the blinds in the window against the sunshine. So I walked right up to the counter and began my transaction. I was quite pleased — I’d be in and out in 2 minutes. The clerk was pleasant, but had a thick accent. I had a hard time understanding her. I didn’t care — I was happy to be getting this done so quickly, so I made small talk with her. She seemed pleased — I guess they don’t get a lot of cheerful people in there. I thanked her, wished her a great day, and left.

Next up: the grocery store. I went in with a short list today, so I hoped to be quick, but I was ahead of the game from the quick turnaround getting my plates done. I went to the fish counter. There was a woman there, but she was doing something else, and I was really in no hurry. Her manager was hovering behind her like some sort of nervous bird, and he noticed me, but still the woman worked at her task. Finally he gave her a signal and she came over a bit flustered. But I was in no rush, so as she served me, I chatted a bit about what they had on special, that sort of thing. She seemed relieved that I was not annoyed at being made to wait.

Then I was off to the meat counter. I wanted 2 filets, but the ones they had out were tiny. Sometimes they will cut you new ones, so I asked the young girl working there about it. She rarely works there, so she had to go find someone. So I waited. Off she went, and found the butcher. They talked, and then they both came over. The butcher was gruff and was explaining that this is all they have; they could give me thicker cuts but the size is what it is. I think he was expecting a fight. I agreed, not all cows are created equal. That made him chuckle, and so he started asking about what I was looking for. We got to talking, and he really warmed up, giving me lots of advice, telling me what to look for, and eventually picking me out the best steak of a different cut that he could find. As I left he said, “Now you be sure to come back and tell me how you liked that.” I promised him I would.

Then through the checkout. Slow, tedious, boring. The checkout girl was young, probably a student, so I made a few jokes and she smiled and laughed. When I took my groceries out to the car, I realized I had forgotten something, so I went back in, picked it up and got right back in line. Again, when I got to the checkout, we joked and laughed about it. And then, I came home.

I had to call the lab I’ve been going to and pay a bill, so I got on the phone with them. I got a clerk whose English was quite poor, but I still tried to ask how her day was going, and thanked her for her help when she was done. She seemed genuinely surprised that someone was wishing her a good day. I guess people that pay bills are not usually terribly friendly.

And then I looked at the time. It was 3 pm. My day had just flown by, and all my boring errands were done. It’s amazing how quickly and easily these things get done if you just try to be as pleasant as possible to everyone.

Last night, I enjoyed a giant glass of wine. It was the first (well, actually the second) glass of wine that I have enjoyed in a very, very long time. It was wonderful.

Except today. Today, I am feeling the headache.

I was feeling a mite celebratory last night, and so I decided to partake of a nice chardonnay. No, it is not like I went on a binge or anything. I had ONE (albeit large) glass. And yet, today, there is a hammering in my head, right THERE (*points*) that won’t go away.

And I have to say, I am a bit indignant. I remember a time when a glass or two was a normal part of a nice night out. Hell, I remember when a bottle or two, not even of wine but of hard liquor, was a great time had by all. But now, I am realizing that those days are long gone. And, I find admitting that to myself, is almost more annoying than the headache.

Sure, there are other things. My joints are starting to complain a bit about life with me. But I can rationalize that with all of the injuries and wear and tear from volleyball. I find I am needing to wear my glasses much more than I used to. Well, I can rationalize that with my time on computer and reading stuff. And the whole infertility thing? Meh, could’ve been there all along. But not being able to drink as much and stay out late and all that? Well, that just strikes at the young person in me. You know, the one that has been hidden behind this new, older model.

And it’s not that I usually mind that I am getting older. As a matter of fact, I’ve always kind of looked forward to my forties. But every now and then, it stings a little bit to know that, bit by bit, I can’t do what I used to, and some of those things will slip away forever. But then, I have to remind myself that new things will come along, that I was not able to do before. It’s all about balance.

BDH and I had a date today.

We had some pretty mundane stuff to do today. Both our cars needed to go in for service, and the winter tires had to be put on our SUV. It was going to take some time, and we didn’t want to be sitting around in a car dealership for hours on end. So we decided to make a date out of it.

We dropped the cars off at the dealership for service, and an emissions test on my little 10-year-old car, and walked down the road to the cinema. We had plans to see the new James Bond movie, “Casino Royale”, which started at noon, but we were about 45 minutes early and the cinema was still closed. So we settled in to wait in the small foyer of the theatre. As we stood there, a few more people came in, pulled on the locked doors, and took up a position to wait. And then, we began to notice something. With about 10 of us standing in the foyer, still people came in and pulled on the doors, and seemed genuinely surprised that they were locked. Did they not NOTICE us all standing around? What did they think we were doing out there? More boneheads arrive. One particularly stupid mid-50s woman tried ALL the doors, then started yelling to the staff inside because the door was locked. “Yoo hoo!” Jeez. More boneheads arrive. More yanging on the doors. After awhile, BDH and I just had to laugh at these morons, and a woman waiting with her small daughter for a birthday party joined us. We stood there, the four of us, marvelling at these imbeciles checking the door, despite about 30 people standing around. When we finally did get in, one of the staff tried to tell us we had to go back out, because there was STILL 6 MINUTES LEFT UNTIL THEY OPENED. Ummmm, let me think about that…NO. So, it seems the boneheads are not only among the punters, then.

We had free passes to the movie, so we got our junk food, and went into the theatre. After what seemed like interminable previews, the movie began. Cheesy opening credits, very bad song, but a good opening sequence to set the stage for what’s to come. Immediately, we thought there was something special about the new Bond, Daniel Craig. As the movie went on, he got better and better. The movie was quite good, except for the last 25 minutes or so — the romance subplot to close out the story sucked the life out of an otherwise brilliant movie. Dragged it kicking and screaming from an A+ to a B. But Daniel Craig — BEST. BOND. EVER. He was absolutely fantastic. Just brilliant. I am not much of a fan of the Bond genre, but this guy has pulled me in. He’s believable, he’s passionate, and he’s got charisma to spare. So all in all, a good movie. (For my review of the movie, head over to PeevishKitty.)

We walked back to the car dealership, and went to pay for the service. We had told them that because my car is old, if they found anything that needed fixing beyond what was done with the tune up, to make a list and we’d deal with it another time. So we got back and they read us a laundry list of things to be done, totalling over $800. Dude. My whole car isn’t worth much more than that. (Okay, it is, but STILL.) And with me not having a job, we have to prioritize. I need new brakes, new something-else-what-is-currently-rusty, my filbertflanges are no longer meshing with my grapplegrommets… OY. It’s a ten year old car. But new brakes, while costly, are going to be a necessary evil. So, we said we’d book it for later.

Then we asked about the emissions test, which I had booked first, and was the whole reason we booked all this service in the first place. I can’t renew my plates without it. “Emissions test?” asked the service guy. So, we had another 20 minutes to wait while they did that. BDH was fighting off a migraine, and we were getting to that point in the show where if we never saw people again, we would not be upset. It was a long fricking 20 minutes. But we got done, paid for everything, and headed home.

And now, BDH is medicated and sleeping off his migraine, and I am sitting like a bump on a log, weighted down by a ridiculous amount of movie concession food. But I’m pleased, all things considered. We took one of those boring but required errands and turned it into a date. It was nice. Not a bad way to pass the time.

My husband knows me so very well.

Last week, as a surprise, he bought me a subscription to The Globe and Mail newspaper. It’s billed as “Canada’s National Newspaper” or something, but it really is. Generally, it’s full of actual news from across the country and internationally, instead of the ten-pound weekend package of ads that The Toronto Star has become, or the tabloid horror of any of The Sun‘s papers. And I refuse, absolutely REFUSE, to look at that stupid National Post because of its association with that arsehole Conrad Black.

The Globe does not deliver on Sundays, but yesterday’s paper, with all the goings on yesterday, never got read. And so, after a nearly-sleepless night that even Tylenol 3s couldn’t fix, I sat down this morning on the floor with a few cups of strong, sweet coffee, and began to read. (Lucy feels that she may take an interest in world affairs too, apparently, as she marched about on the paper throughout most of the first two sections.)

As I flipped through, I read stories on veterans, on the mess that is Iraq, on the imbalance of wealth in the chocolate industry. I read stories of war, of people trying to do good in this world, of progress and health and technology. And I gained a bit of perspective. After yesterday’s tears and disappointment, it was a way of saying here’s what else is going on in the world, to show me that I do not have it so bad.

But even more than that, I began to relax. The ticking and spinning of my thoughts, that kept me awake most of the night, began to slow. The pounding headache became less violent and painful. The tension in my shoulders relaxed. Something about lounging around on a Sunday morning, reading the paper and unwinding, always makes me feel a little more at peace.

That BDH, he knows. He’s a keeper.

Since I am on a mission to relax and bring more positive energy into my life, I’ve been thinking a lot about things that bring me joy. A lot of times, the things that make me happiest are simple little things that I find relaxing or that just make me smile. It does not have to be something very complicated or exotic or expensive. There can be pleasure in simplicity.

So I have compiled a list of seven things that bring some sort of positive energy into my life. Sometimes they are calming things, other times they are things that make me laugh. But all of them leave me feeling good, happy, and with a positive feeling of well being.

1. Freshly laundered sheets. There is nothing better, I think, than crawling into bed made with freshly laundered sheets. The crisp, cool sheets, the clean smells of fabric softener or bleach — there’s something luxurious about sliding into a bed made with clean sheets and settling in with a good book. And if they’ve been ironed? Hold me! I am in heaven.
2. Really high-quality chocolate. It only takes a couple of squares of very good chocolate to improve one’s mood. We’re not talking cheap, waxy chocolate that most North American manufacturers make. Oh no. I’m thinking about chocolate where the first ingredient listed is cocoa. Where there’s a really high percentage of cocoa in the mix. Possibly even Dutch cocoa, which I am told is the best cocoa you can buy. This chocolate usually comes from the Netherlands, or Belgium, or any of those European countries where chocolate is approaching an art form for those of us raised on KitKat bars. (Not that a KitKat won’t do in a pinch, you understand.)
3. Clean, uncluttered rooms. It happens so infrequently. Everyday life intrudes and a clean, clutter-free environment is almost impossible to maintain. But sometimes, when you have everything in its appointed place, and it’s all tidied up and vaccuumed and scrubbed — having a few moments to sit in the quiet of a clean space is bliss.
4. The secret life of animals. This is something BDH and I have found fun in for as long as I can remember. I think it started from reading too much of The Far Side. But whenever we see animals, we can’t resist giving voice to what they are thinking or doing. Driving by a field full of cows and one donkey, suddenly the donkey takes on a supervisory role: “Alright, now, ladies… aaaaaaand… GRAZE! Excellent.” We see our favourite old man walking his dog, Small Auxiliary Backup Dog: “C’mere dog.” “Hmmmm. I don’t think so.” “I said c’mere!” “And yet? Laying down.” Also, it may have a lot to do with the fact that we live with cats. We just KNOW they’ve got more going on than napping all day. I’ve long suspected online shopping, myself.
5. A new newspaper or magazine. I like to be the first one to read a paper, while the folds are still crisp and even. The same thing with a magazine — the static as you open pages, stretching the spine open. It’s uncharted territory. When I was single, I would luxuriate over a Saturday paper for hours, with a big pot of coffee, savouring each story and taking my sweet time. Nowadays, it’s my National Geographic magazine that I save for bedtime reading. It can take a week of evenings to get through. First, I go through and look at the pictures. Then, I read stories of interest. Then, I read whatever is left. Woe betide someone who reads my magazine before I do.
6. Dance parties. Dance parties are spontaneous. They usually happen when you are the only adult around. Often they involve kids or pets. You put on some music, and you dance around like crazy people and sing, loudly and often badly. When I was a kid, having a teenaged sister meant dancing around and singing Beatles songs, and using your leg as a guitar. When I was a bit older, it was dancing and marching around and singing “I Am Superman” with my niece. Nowadays, one of my cats has a particular love of “San Francisco Bay Blues” by Eric Clapton. No matter. It’s all good. Pure, uncensored, uninhibited joy.
7. Watching the first snowfall. Don’t get me wrong. I hate snow. But in that first snowfall, when the world is quiet and you can sit at your window with a mug of tea, a blanket on your lap and a cat or two cuddling beside you, there is a certain peace. I don’t mean those initial windy flurries that come in the fall, that are sort of half-rain and don’t stay. But I am thinking more when the big, fluffy flakes begin to fall, and suddenly even the most unattractive places can take on a certain charm. People are often transformed into somewhat more festive, more pleasant versions of themselves by the first snow.

So that’s my list. I know it’s not the definitive list, so please feel free to add whatever you find brings you simple joy. Also, I am sure there are some you would dispute. That’s fine too. I guess the point is, we all need to remind ourselves what we can do or the things we have, on a very basic level, that make us happy. Everyone needs a little pick-me-up every now and again.

I’ve been feeling the need to redecorate today. Not my house, but my blog.

It’s kind of like having a room in your house that’s a work-in-progress. I come in here all the time, so I am always thinking of things I want to see, things I’d like to change, things I want to add. Do I like the colours? How about the layout? How can I see who’s been here? How many people are actually reading the blog?

Actually, it all started during a discussion with BDH this morning about another of our blog sites, Peevish Kitty. I originally created it so that a group of friends and I would have someplace to blog and post stuff, and also as a bit of a playground for me to learn more about blogs and the technology behind them. Well, as it turns out, I tinker very rarely over there, since I spend the majority of my time posting here. Also, I was telling BDH that the interest in it seems to have died down — among the group of us, there doesn’t seem to be a great number of people who blog regularly, or if they do, they likely have their own place elsewhere. I figured it was time to shut it down and make the site into something different. When he asked me what that would be… well, I hadn’t thought that far in advance. BDH suggested that since it’s not costing us anything, why not just leave it there? Even if it is used infrequently, it is still a playground for us, and it was never meant to be more than that.

But that brought me back here, and the tinkering started in earnest. I’ve been cruising the widget pages, faffing around in CSS and editing pages. I’ve been blowing things up and starting again. My eyeballs are spinning. And, in the end, I still have a whole bunch of things I want to change. But I guess that’s the point, isn’t it.

A blog is a creative endeavour of sorts. It’s a place to express yourself. Whether that expression is in words, in look and feel, or in the things that it can do, it’s all about giving virtual life to a vision. It’s a creative outlet. A work in progress.

So if you come looking for my blog one day and find you’re getting errors, or it has strangely disappeared, or you open a page full of funky colours, don’t panic. (Perhaps, like The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I should have that right up front in big friendly letters.) Come back in an hour or so, and things should be back to semi-normal. It’s just me, redecorating. Again.