by Heather Plett | Nov 24, 2006 | Uncategorized
I am sick today. Sick, sick, sick. (I’m trying to think of a catchy metaphor to emphasize just how sick I am. ‘Sick as a dog’ just isn’t working for me. ‘Sicker than a mad cow?’ Hmm… has potential.) I got whalloped by one of those stomach bugs that my body takes very, very seriously. I’m sure I threw up ten times last night. And I am not a polite, lady-like vomiter. Oh no – none of that for me! My wretching is violent and horrible and frightening for small children. Sometimes I swear my stomach will turn itself inside out, do a flip flop out my throat and into the toilet. Last night I’m sure I saw the shadow of death pass over me.
(Okay – if this is turning you off, feel free to visit someone else’s blog. ‘Cause it gets worse from here.) Perhaps the violent wretching contributes to the fact that I frequently pass out when I vomit. I think it cuts off the oxygen to my brain or something. Or else my brain says to my body parts “Okay folks, shut ‘er down, this one looks like the death of us. Might as well make ourselves comfortable on the floor.” It’s pretty horrible. You don’t even want to imagine what it’s like to wake up on the floor in a pool of your own vomit. And last night it was even worse, because it was coming out both ends. (Am I going too far here? I SAID you could leave.)
Because he’s used to me passing out, Marcel is usually right there beside me, trying to catch me when I fall. Let me tell you, there are few sounds more comforting when you’re huddled over a toilet, than the rapid footsteps of the one you love.
I’m not sure Marcel knew what he was getting into when he said “in sickness and in health.” When you’re standing up there at the alter, ready to say “I do”, you do not immediately picture your beloved lying in a pool of vomit. Nor do you imagine yourself cleaning her off and shuffling her back to bed.
And yet he shows up in the bathroom every time, and with a look of resolve on his face, puts his hand on my shoulder while I wretch. I don’t care what anyone else says, but THAT’S how you define love. I can do without the flowers or chocolates or fancy dinners out, as long as I have that hand on my shoulder for as long as we both shall live.
by Heather Plett | Nov 23, 2006 | Uncategorized
Remember the black skirt? Remember the good karma? Remember the friend who came back into my life after an absence of almost ten years?
It’s my friend Kari and she’s BACK! And she’s a blogger! She’s gonna hate me for this, but you should all go over to her blog and say hello. She’ll get mad and probably tell me I had no business sending people to her blog because “it’s boring, she’s a bad writer, she’s a techno-illiterate, blah, blah, blah” but don’t pay any attention to her self-deprecation because she’s brilliant and funny and YOU WILL LOVE HER. Besides, she’s been mad at me before (I seem to recall a drink in my face when she thought I was trying to set her up with some guy at a party), and she always gets over it quickly. Here’s hoping she hasn’t figured out a way of tossing a cyber-drink my way.
Truly, she is funny, humble, down-to-earth, bold, beautifully honest, uninhibited, and she writes a really entertaining blog. It is so much fun having her back in my life. I have the greatest memories of life with Kari, back when we were roommates. Some of the memories are kind of strange, I’ll admit. Like the night we were both laughing so hard at something (possibly at the way we were both inconsiderate slobs and our other roommate kept the place together) and I ended up lying on the floor under the rocking chair – I really don’t remember much except that I remember the view from beneath the rocking chair. Or the night we rented the movie The Music Box, but by the end of it we were both so depressed and didn’t want to go to bed on that note, so we walked to the video store in the middle of the night and rented a comedy. Or the time we got the munchies after testing a bunch of recipes in the drinks recipe book she’d bought me for my birthday and we walked to Safeway and ended up sitting on the sidewalk giggling. Or the really raunchy postcards of X-rated clubs and peepshows she used to send me from London (just to make me LAUGH people – no other reason!), addressed to my OFFICE because she didn’t want our other roommate to see them.
For years, I knew there was a hole in my life because Kari wasn’t there anymore. She keeps me grounded in a way few people can. She has a unique way of making me feel normal and special and reasonably well-balanced despite my many quirks and flaws. She knows some of my deep dark secrets, my insecurities, and my stains and she loves me anyway. (‘Course she has no choice because I know HER deep dark secrets too. Mwa-ha-ha.)
Now that we’re both moms we can continue to laugh at our failures and flaws and the way we’re messing up our children and feel a little more sane because we’re not the only one in these shoes. Welcome back Kari!
Here we are, back in the days of our youth. Kari’s the one in the middle.
by Heather Plett | Nov 23, 2006 | Uncategorized
– In the last 24 hours, the temperature has dropped 24 degrees – from a balmy +12 degrees (Celsius), to a rather cool -12 degrees. Those living in the warmer south may think that’s a little whacky, but I don’t really mind living in a place with temperature mood swings. It makes life interesting, because it can just as easily swing the other way around.
– If you want to see an amazing sight, visit my office at about 4:30 in the afternoon. I have a view of the highrise office buildings of Winnipeg, and around that time, the sun is beginning to set and it makes all the tall buildings glow a brilliant orange. Breathtaking. Yesterday there was a verigated pink cotton candy effect on the skyline behind it to add to the tapestry.
– Is it just me, or when you see an empty plastic bag dancing in the wind do you remember that amazing scene from American Beauty? Sometimes I see one float up to my fourth floor office window and I have to just stop and stare at the raw beauty of it.
– It’s not only raw beauty I see from my office window. Sometimes it’s rather ugly. There’s a rather seedy hotel across the street and occasionally there are people passed out on the street in a drunken stupor. Once in awhile I see a fight break out. A few weeks ago, there was a car on the sidewalk and police had taped the area off. It turns out, the guy driving the car had died of a heart attack while driving and when his car hit the sidewalk, he’d hit one of the people who was hanging around in front of the hotel.
– Does anyone really care about TomKat’s extravagant wedding? Do they think sinking hoardes of money into it is going to make the marriage last longer?
– Speaking of TomKat’s wedding, why the heck was Brooke Shields there? Has she no pride?
– And speaking of TomKat’s wedding (maybe I do care after all – teehee), don’t you just feel horribly sorry for his two older children? They had to watch both of their parents get married in the same year. That’s just not fair. It was hard enough for me to get used to the idea of my mom getting remarried and I’m an ADULT and my mom was a widow. I can’t imagine how messed up it feels for a kid whose parents are still both alive.
– Does anyone understand why Oprah insists on putting a picture of HERSELF on every single magazine? Is it some kind of huge ego trip, or does that really help sell magazines? I can tell you it’s a deterrent for me, but perhaps I’m a minority.
by Heather Plett | Nov 22, 2006 | Uncategorized
I had ninety dollars burning a hole in my pocket. It was the last cheque from my short-lived writing contract with Words of Life magazine. (Just after they accepted me as a monthly writer, they shut down the magazine. Bummer.) Since I usually consider the small amounts of money I receive for freelance writing as my “fun/personal development money”, I felt justified in spending it on myself.
I headed to Winners to see if I could find a new coat. I don’t really NEED a new coat. I have a perfectly good parka that’s still fairly new, plus I have a long coat that’s good enough even though I don’t particularly like it. But what I wanted was somewhere between the two – a shorter coat that was a little more dressy than a parka.
At Winners I found a coat that I instantly fell in love with. Perhaps it was the feel of it that I just couldn’t get enough of. It’s black faux fur with a black and brown stand-up collar and large cuffs at the arms. It is so soft you just can’t resist touching it over and over again. I tried it on and glanced at myself in the mirror. Wow. I’d never looked so glamorous and put together! This coat was smokin’! And it was $89 dollars! Perfect.
I bought it, and as I drove home with it, I kept reaching into the bag to touch its luxurious softness.
When I got home, I put it on in the garage before walking into the house to model it for my family. When I opened the door, I was greated with dumbfounded stares. And not in a good way. The stares quickly turned into frowns and even sneers. They were NOT impressed. Clearly, my family had not fallen in love in the same way I had. Nikki promised me she’d walk five feet away from me if I EVER wore that coat in public. Marcel tried to redeem himself after his first stuttered response, but he only sank himself further into the hole. It just wasn’t working for him.
Undeterred, I swore that I didn’t care whether or not they liked the coat, I LIKED IT and that was what counted. Part of me was more convinced than ever that I would flaunt this coat in front of them every chance I got because I HAVE A RIGHT TO LIKE WHAT I WANT even if they don’t agree.
But… a few days passed, and I didn’t wear the coat. My excuse was that the temperature had warmed and it just wasn’t cold enough to warrant a faux fur coat. That wasn’t the whole truth though. I began to suspect that perhaps my family was at least partly right – the coat just didn’t suit me.
Last night, when I drove the girls to piano lessons, I wore the coat for the first time. During their lesson, I went to my favourite bookstore and wandered around wearing the coat. I realized as I wore it that it didn’t quite have the effect I’d hoped for. It didn’t make me feel special and elegant and interesting. It made me feel self-conscious. It’s a coat made for someone who carries glamour gracefully, not someone like me who wears scuffed shoes and torn gloves, never has the latest hairstyle, doesn’t push back the cuticles on her nails let alone paint them, doesn’t pluck her eyebrows, and wears little if any make-up. I realized as I walked around the mall that if I kept the coat, I would also need to buy new accessories to go with my “new look”. I’d need new gloves, a new pair of boots (instead of my clunky boots that are warm but scream “non-glamorous”), a new headband, and a new scarf. And my bag made from African fabric just wouldn’t suit, so I’d need a new bag too. This coat could end up costing me alot more than $90.
Another thing happened while I was in the mall. I spotted some people who are associated with the non-profit organization I work with. When I found myself avoiding them, I realized that I would feel horribly self-conscious wearing my new coat to work (or to the circles closely associated with my work) where I’m surrounded by a lot of committed idealists who believe in simplicity and non-consumerism. The coat screams the opposite of those ideals. And then, as I analyzed my reaction, I realized that those ideals are not only important to the people I work with, they’re important to me too.
So then I began to think about what I base my decisions on. Can I buy a coat that I like just because I happen to like it and overlook the fact that others think differently? Can I buy a coat that might make me look like the person I try hard not to be – a materialistic consumer – even though it wasn’t ghastly expensive? Can I buy a coat and be satisfied that I don’t have the necessary accessories to match? Or will the coat make me feel pressured to buy more stuff? Am I too concerned about what other people think of me and the way they might judge me? Is it okay to be a little extravagant now and then and still be committed to simplicity and non-consumerism? Would I feel comfortable wearing the coat in front of some of the people whose hunger we are trying to end – like Paulina? Am I taking this stupid coat WAY too seriously?
Before I went to bed last night, I knew I’d be returning the coat. Perhaps it won’t be for the “right” reasons. But then I’m not entirely sure we EVER make decisions with entirely pure motives. Aren’t we always at least a little influenced by peer pressure, self-consciousness, and what other people think? Sometimes there are conflicts even in our non-pure motives (for example, I know that SOME of my friends and associates would love the coat even though others don’t) and that muddies the water even more. Sometimes even the decisions that seem morally pure and altruistic are made mostly for the purpose of APPEARING morally pure and altruistic.
I know it’s just a coat, but it represents something much bigger than that. It represents the choices I make in my life, the image I portray to the world, the importance I place on “things”, the example I set for my children and the way I try to find a balance in an imbalanced world. I may not make the “perfect” choice with the $90 (for example, I’m not sure I’ll altruistically give it to charity instead of spending it on myself), but I want my choice to at least reflect the person I am, not the person I’ll never be.
And now it’s back to the thrift store – imagine what $90 can buy me there!
by Heather Plett | Nov 20, 2006 | Uncategorized
She’s rarely the first to do anything. She wasn’t the first one to walk, talk, or ride a bike. She rarely got marveled over in that “wow – look at that – one of our OWN offspring is capable of all that” way. Her older sister beat her to that honour. She’s also not the last one to do anything. She’s not the one whose baby cuteness is held onto for as long as possible because there will be no more of it after she’s done. She’s never had her cute toddler sayings recorded for posterity on her mom’s blog. That would be her little sister’s place.
She’s the one in between – the one who is not celebrated for being first or last. She’s the one the birth order experts say is most often overlooked. Sometimes, the birth order experts are right.
She’s my daughter Julie, the in-between child. Though she is marvelous in her own way, she rarely gets the spotlight for being a marvel. It’s true, I know it, because I am often the most guilty of overlooking her.
Last week when I wrote this post about Nikki and then this one about Maddie I saw it happen once again. Julie got overlooked. It’s not on purpose – it just happens that way.
So the express purpose of this post is to marvel at my in-between girl.
Perhaps part of the reason I tend to overlook Julie is that, in many ways, she is the most like me. In the good ways and the not-so-good. She is smart, stubborn, adventurous, disorganized, spontaneous, fun-loving, opinionated, and easily distracted. She loves to do things her own way and rarely gives up until I let her try. (You’d think I’d know by now that I should just let her try the first time she asks instead of engaging in a battle of the wills, but I’m a slow learner. Plus I’m just as stubborn as she is.) She loves to cook, but she does NOT want to be Mom’s helper – she wants to be Mom’s BOSS. She bakes cakes by herself and has even cooked a meal or two. (And she’s only nine.)
She is a whiz-kid at school. Few things challenge her. She told me the other day that she’d never made a spelling mistake on a test, and I’m inclined to believe her. When she’s supposed to do homework, she asks “Mom, what’s the point, if I get all the answers right the first time I try?” She has a point. I’ve often said that she didn’t “learn” to read, she just “absorbed” it. One day she couldn’t read and the next day she was reading novels. She read ALL of the Harry Potter books by the time she was eight years old. (Okay, so that’s not QUITE true – the last one came out a month after her eighth birthday and by about 4 days after she’d bought it with her birthday money, she’d finished it.) She often reads a novel per night – we have a hard time keeping her in books. There are many, many nights when I’m on my way to bed that I have to remind her “Julie – it’s time to turn out the light now.” As I do it, I’m reminded of the same gentle tone my dad used when he’d say the same thing to me. Readers tend to understand readers.
Julie LOVES to play games. That’s one of the few ways that she’s not like me – or any other member of the family. She begs and pleads the rest of us to play games, and once in awhile we agree, but not nearly as often as she’d like. Nobody else cares much for games, other than Maddie whose games are at a slightly different level. (Too bad we don’t live closer to ap or grandma – we’d send her over to one of their houses for game night now and then.)
When there’s fun to be had, Julie is often first in line. If I’m looking for a fun, spontaneous family thing to do on the weekend, I usually turn to Julie as my first ally because she’ll almost always be game. Yesterday, when she was looking through the paper and saw all the fun things going on all over the city because of the Grey Cup, she said “Mom, let’s make it our goal today to not be at home ALL DAY.” A girl after my own heart. The whole family ended up at The Forks because of Julie’s nudging.
Some day, I can imagine myself travelling the world with Julie. What fun it will be to don a backpack and head out on an adventure with my marvelous fun-loving daughter!
This is not the best picture I have of her, but I like the way her personality shines through. The slight sneer on her lips is pure Julie.
