In which I use my mouth and a broom, but not simultaneously
I am a conditioned woman. It's quite apparent in the joy I took today cleaning my kitchen.
Ten years ago, had you told me that I would enjoy a day at home with a broom, I might wonder how desperate you think I am. A broom? Come on, now. I can get a date if I need one, thanks.
But today I turned on BBC Canada (sort of a ridiculous notion, I admit. British Broadcast Corporation... Canada? Could they not have come up with something more honest, like 'We Know You Canadians Like Our Accent So We're Going To Make Money From It) and watched real estate programs while I scrubbed and swept and burned beautiful-smelling candles.
I then did something I don't do much of these days, and visited the Old People Maul, where the gremlins and I played chicken with elderly women with walkers.
We won every round. We're awesome.
I bought them popcorn and candy and rented (rented!) a cake mould for Spawnling's impending birthday party. Saturday, October 13th is the big day. Once you make a Facebook event and invite people there's no going back.
Finally, I learned that if you assume, ye shall receive. It's a fairly straight-forward concept:
I was on Facebook in between loads of dishes, Spawnling happily pulling apart the plastic container cupboard for the 8th time (and I'm not even exaggerating) when I received a message asking me if I was at home. It took 15 minutes between the time my new friend, whom I shall dub Dirty Librarian, wrote to me and the time I replied. Not very instantly gratifying. Being an alcoholic, I'm all about the instant gratification.
I took the next step in our relationship and gave her my phone number. Never mind that I've been to her house, she's been to mine, and we see each other all the time at one of the two schools our children share. All of our other communications have been online up until this point, yet she's not an internet friend. That's not acceptable. So I gave her my digits with the message:
Five minutes later, I received a phone call. 'Um... Were you serious about the coffee?'
Most people would have laughed and said ' Of course not! I was just kidding. Ha ha ha!'
Most people are not The Maven. I don't kid about such serious topics.
I replied with ' Yes. I never turn down someone's urge to give me drive-by caffeinated beverages. I'm trying to make it easier on you, that's all.'
'I'll see what I can do,' replied the Dirty Librarian (she really is a librarian, but I don't know her well enough to tell you whether or not she's dirty. She probably is, though. She has three kids, you know.)
An hour or so went by with no coffee. She was taunting me. Hmph. I should have named her Teasing Librarian. The type that smiles at you from behind the desk but the closest she comes to naughty is quietly giggling in the Harlequin section.
I packed up the mini gremz and went to pick up Gremlin Majora at school. I was just about to pull the minivan back onto the road when a beautiful light appeared.
It was the sun. It was damn bright.
But emerging from that brightness came a glimmering, beige minivan. It came to a stop with the driver's side window adjacent to mine. The window was open and a beautiful angel was behind the wheel. Dirty Librarian, the Angel of Coffee. She held her hand out the window with a large Tim Hortons, 2 cream. Just what I had wanted.
My faith in humanity restored, I was able to brave the maul, the caffeine coursing through my veins helping me win every round of walker vs. stroller chicken.
A glorious day, my friends. Truly glorious.
This comes on the heels of an excellent Monday evening. Given my string of jolly illnesses, I made a grand total of one AA meeting in one month. I realize I'm 16 years sober and I have a family and a life and I'm (questionably) fulfilling my responsibility of becoming a productive member of society, but that's just not enough AA for this girl. In order for The Maven to maintain her level of serenity - no small feat when she has to clean up the same 50 plastic items several times in a single day in lieu of doing new, less monotonous things - she needs at least a meeting every week. Being around people who like to better themselves makes me want to better my own self (no small task given how damn near perfect I am already). It makes me want to be less bitchy and less judgmental and more loving and giving and crap.
It's all about the crap.
I decided I should hit up one of the first meetings I've ever been to, which takes place about 10 minutes from here, is small and intimate and has coffee ready at 8PM (obviously a priority). I knew a couple of people there already, one of them being the chair. She hadn't found a speaker so I volunteered.
I do this all the time. I volunteer for things, step away and, in about five minutes, wonder how in the bloody hell I'm going to pull that off. In this case I walked away, grabbed a fresh coffee, sat down, wondered how in the bloody hell I was going to pull that off, drank the entire coffee, went back to get more coffee, sat down again and realized it was already time for me to get up and speak.
Speaking in front of a room full of people is challenging enough when you're talking about science, or the current economic forecast, or how skinny jeans are ugly no matter how many times you try to reinvent them. But having to speak to a room full of people about your life story and what a colossal f*ckup you've been is a whole new level of terror. I highly recommend anyone who has a problem with public speaking to do something similar. It'll make your next office presentation seem as relaxing as making a sandcastle.
But speak I did, and good I did feel after it was done. It's always great to air my dirty laundry to a bunch of people with as many stinky clothes as me. And if I help someone out, all the better. Apparently some people in the room could relate to me on a personal level. I offered them my sympathies.
I then came home and wrote a judgmental post about formula companies. Sixteen years in and I still have resentments against large conglomerates I can do little to stop. Progress, not perfection, Maven.
Ten years ago, had you told me that I would enjoy a day at home with a broom, I might wonder how desperate you think I am. A broom? Come on, now. I can get a date if I need one, thanks.
But today I turned on BBC Canada (sort of a ridiculous notion, I admit. British Broadcast Corporation... Canada? Could they not have come up with something more honest, like 'We Know You Canadians Like Our Accent So We're Going To Make Money From It) and watched real estate programs while I scrubbed and swept and burned beautiful-smelling candles.
I then did something I don't do much of these days, and visited the Old People Maul, where the gremlins and I played chicken with elderly women with walkers.
We won every round. We're awesome.
I bought them popcorn and candy and rented (rented!) a cake mould for Spawnling's impending birthday party. Saturday, October 13th is the big day. Once you make a Facebook event and invite people there's no going back.
Finally, I learned that if you assume, ye shall receive. It's a fairly straight-forward concept:
I was on Facebook in between loads of dishes, Spawnling happily pulling apart the plastic container cupboard for the 8th time (and I'm not even exaggerating) when I received a message asking me if I was at home. It took 15 minutes between the time my new friend, whom I shall dub Dirty Librarian, wrote to me and the time I replied. Not very instantly gratifying. Being an alcoholic, I'm all about the instant gratification.
I took the next step in our relationship and gave her my phone number. Never mind that I've been to her house, she's been to mine, and we see each other all the time at one of the two schools our children share. All of our other communications have been online up until this point, yet she's not an internet friend. That's not acceptable. So I gave her my digits with the message:
Also, you can always give me a call if you need/want to, or if you have a strong desire to drop off a coffee (I know this happens frequently and I want to make it easier for you).
Five minutes later, I received a phone call. 'Um... Were you serious about the coffee?'
Most people would have laughed and said ' Of course not! I was just kidding. Ha ha ha!'
Most people are not The Maven. I don't kid about such serious topics.
I replied with ' Yes. I never turn down someone's urge to give me drive-by caffeinated beverages. I'm trying to make it easier on you, that's all.'
'I'll see what I can do,' replied the Dirty Librarian (she really is a librarian, but I don't know her well enough to tell you whether or not she's dirty. She probably is, though. She has three kids, you know.)
An hour or so went by with no coffee. She was taunting me. Hmph. I should have named her Teasing Librarian. The type that smiles at you from behind the desk but the closest she comes to naughty is quietly giggling in the Harlequin section.
I packed up the mini gremz and went to pick up Gremlin Majora at school. I was just about to pull the minivan back onto the road when a beautiful light appeared.
It was the sun. It was damn bright.
But emerging from that brightness came a glimmering, beige minivan. It came to a stop with the driver's side window adjacent to mine. The window was open and a beautiful angel was behind the wheel. Dirty Librarian, the Angel of Coffee. She held her hand out the window with a large Tim Hortons, 2 cream. Just what I had wanted.
My faith in humanity restored, I was able to brave the maul, the caffeine coursing through my veins helping me win every round of walker vs. stroller chicken.
A glorious day, my friends. Truly glorious.
This comes on the heels of an excellent Monday evening. Given my string of jolly illnesses, I made a grand total of one AA meeting in one month. I realize I'm 16 years sober and I have a family and a life and I'm (questionably) fulfilling my responsibility of becoming a productive member of society, but that's just not enough AA for this girl. In order for The Maven to maintain her level of serenity - no small feat when she has to clean up the same 50 plastic items several times in a single day in lieu of doing new, less monotonous things - she needs at least a meeting every week. Being around people who like to better themselves makes me want to better my own self (no small task given how damn near perfect I am already). It makes me want to be less bitchy and less judgmental and more loving and giving and crap.
It's all about the crap.
I decided I should hit up one of the first meetings I've ever been to, which takes place about 10 minutes from here, is small and intimate and has coffee ready at 8PM (obviously a priority). I knew a couple of people there already, one of them being the chair. She hadn't found a speaker so I volunteered.
I do this all the time. I volunteer for things, step away and, in about five minutes, wonder how in the bloody hell I'm going to pull that off. In this case I walked away, grabbed a fresh coffee, sat down, wondered how in the bloody hell I was going to pull that off, drank the entire coffee, went back to get more coffee, sat down again and realized it was already time for me to get up and speak.
Speaking in front of a room full of people is challenging enough when you're talking about science, or the current economic forecast, or how skinny jeans are ugly no matter how many times you try to reinvent them. But having to speak to a room full of people about your life story and what a colossal f*ckup you've been is a whole new level of terror. I highly recommend anyone who has a problem with public speaking to do something similar. It'll make your next office presentation seem as relaxing as making a sandcastle.
But speak I did, and good I did feel after it was done. It's always great to air my dirty laundry to a bunch of people with as many stinky clothes as me. And if I help someone out, all the better. Apparently some people in the room could relate to me on a personal level. I offered them my sympathies.
I then came home and wrote a judgmental post about formula companies. Sixteen years in and I still have resentments against large conglomerates I can do little to stop. Progress, not perfection, Maven.