Cheap

We were standing at the bus stop one day, talking about my history of shopping... issues: when I only bought men's pants, when I only bought from the children's section, when I couldn't pass by the mall without stopping in, when I couldn't pass by a thrift store without popping in... and Scott mused (as another friend had days earlier when a similar topic was raised) that he was impressed that I didn't have crippling credit card debt.

"To be fair, " I said, "my next bill will have a charge of $5.99 on it. And really, that's got to be more than this outfit is worth!"

Meant as a joke, I looked down and realized it wasn't far from the truth.

The sweater? A hand-me-down from a friend.

The skirt? Borrowed from my sister when she was about 6 months pregnant (her son is now 9 months old)

The belt? Stolen from my mother.

The shoes? Ah man! I actually paid money for these. I think it was about $9.99, but considering they're genuine leather, still a pretty good steal. Especially since that was at least a good 7 years ago and I wear them at least weekly during the summer. Cost per wear is well below one cent!

My secret to having a few shopping... issues... and no credit card debt? I guess it's having good alternate clothing sources!

It's done, but was it worth it?

We finally arranged our balcony for summer enjoyment. Of course, that mean moving all the furniture that has been up against the balcony doors (shoved out of the way so we could get to the barbecue the minute the snow melted). Of course, that meant no longer denying that we needed to clean said doors.

These doors have been some what of an homage to my niece, and now my nephew. We have not have ever cleaned them before this. You can see the hand and nose prints creep higher and higher up as E grew, and now start back at the bottom as A get mobile.

As adorable as that sounds (maybe I'm the only one that finds it adorable sounding), the windows were pretty gross.

So I grabbed some Windex and went to town. Pleased, I sat down on the couch to enjoy the view...

... of the streaks.

I got back up and tried vinegar and water, using a bit more elbow grease. Satisfied, I sat down on the couch to enjoy the view...

... of streaks.

I flipped to Pinterest, saw that adding Dawn (blue, of course. Because apparently blue is the best colour?) to counteract any hard water issues. I had no idea if we had water issues, but a few drops later, some shaking for suds, and I washed the windows yet again. Grumpy, I sat down on the couch, picked up my laptop and avoided the view...

... of streaks.

While I know it's likely better than the hand-printed, dirt-covered, water-spotted original, it doesn't seem like it. Future guests, don't be surprised if you arrive at my place and my balcony doors are finger printed, dirt-covered an water-spotted. I likely won't try tackling those doors again, at least until we move out. And even then, I'll be likely to try to coerce my mother into cleaning them!

Snapshots of the week

I don't so much instagram (use ANOTHER social medium? Ugh, I have enough!), but I do like snapping pics of what goes on during my week.

1. I may have ran into the leg press machine... while getting off of it... the other day at the gym.
2. It's backyard weather now. No backyard? No problem. Spent some time hanging with my niece, nephew and sister in their backyard
3. A coworker always sees the strangest things on the way to work -- a man walking a sheep, a man walking with a lizard... but no pics? No proof. But to her credit, I did see the man walking down the street with a lizard, too, and had the sneak skills to capture the proof.
4. We had Father's day a week early for my dad, and had a great barbecue. Mmmmm.... ribs.....

The Holy Grail of Breakfast Muffins

It's happening again. I can feel my heart pounding in my head when I wake up. I have no energy to get out of bed. And I'm stuffy.

We're heading to Regina in two weeks for our friends' wedding, and I can't be the one sniffling in the corner, wanting to leave the reception to go to bed.

It's time to cut the sugar again.

I told myself it was time on Thursday, but some how snuck a chocolate tart from the convocation reception. And then snuck two the next day. And had a slice of cheesecake. And a super sugar laden Starbucks beverage. Saturday was candy covered fro-yo... with a big bowl of ice cream for dessert.

Ya, I may have brought the sugar sickness on myself.

To counteract it, and to solve my problem of not always having enough time to grab a good breakfast in the morning, I tried a new recipe.

And by tried, I mean "found a recipe and then tweaked it until it met my criteria". That would include:

1. Applesauce instead of oil
2. Multigrain
3. No added sugar.

It did not work.

Even without my tweaks I'm not convinced it would work.

Sometimes "healthy" is just "too healthy". 

An unintentional experiment

I did a very strange thing this week. I repeated an outfit. Wearing the same thing isn't bad, but wearing the same thing to the same event almost exactly one year to the date? It's an unintentional experiment.

It's "All Hands on Deck" for our department for convocation. It means leaving for work before my alarm would normally be going off. It means getting all up in a bunch of sweaty, nervous graduates' space to pin their hoods to their robes. It means being on my feet, smiling, cheery, and skipping my beloved gym time.

But I love it. I love the energy. I love the tradition of getting to high 5 over 300 people in 2 days. I love getting to kick it a touch more "fancy" than "professional".

I loved pairing my green shift with teal and purple. Last year, I added my pink cardi -- but I learned quickly that having a belt or pockets is pretty much essential. Of course, even as I discovered the downfall of the outfit last year, I loved it. It was my very first thought when convocation season rolled around again. I can remember my hands shaking with excitement and nervousness. I still wasn't quite sure of what I was doing at my job, and I had to remind myself all morning to keep smiling.

A year later, I was still as excited. Maybe even more. Afterall, even though life is dealing me a little self-consciousness, I cannot deny that I am 100% in a better place than I was just over a year ago. I had finally rebuilt my confidence in my work ethic and professional abilities, and was finally able to believe I am an asset to my department.

And nothing hits that home harder than running into the single person who had taken that all away at the last job, just over a year ago.

It was the opposite of a cute meet... we spotted each other across a crowded room. Our eyes refused to meet. My heart pounded with fear. My face flushed with anger. My hands, currently trying to avoid stabbing a pin into one of our graduands, shook.

"You'd think with the way I was shaking, it'd be my convocation today!" I joked with the girl in front of me. With that joke, I was back into my groove. There was no time to worry about the jerk milling around the fringes of the room (who was later obviously avoiding me. I appreciate that we both had that same sentiment).

When the grads had been high fived on the way to their ceremony, and I was back at my desk for a couple hours before I would be needed on grad duty again, I gave myself a couple minutes to regroup. I played back the moments where our paths crossed in the busyness of the morning, and congratulated myself that I was able to keep myself smiling through it all. "That's right, make him think you're happy at this new job"

And I realized I didn't have to make him think that. I didn't have to force a smile on my face that morning. With the exception of those few seconds where the cold hand of terror gripped me, I didn't have to tell myself to be happy: I actually was.

I was recounting the story to Scott, that night as I took pictures for the blog, and how strange it was to see how different I felt this year, as opposed to last year. But it wasn't until I putting my dress back on its hangar that I realized that despite weeks of struggling with weeks of self-consciousness, trying on clothes from my closet, throwing them on the floor in disgust, or eying myself critically in every window and every mirror, I hadn't had a single panic that day about how I looked.

It wasn't simply confidence coming from having previously worn the outfit. It was deeper than that. It was knowing that I have come a long way from the shattered girl who started this job to becoming confident in my role, and that confidence was starting to project itself outward.

Zoo time!

June was really the first month we had an actual "Making the Most of Making Time Fly" activity. Since June is a rather busy month, it took some effort to schedule it in. And of course, for about a week leading up to that day, it looked like it was going to rain. However, on a beautiful Saturday, we trekked to the zoo to check out the new penguin exhibit.

Of course, we had to check out all the animals while we were there. It's only fair, right? Plus, I got to pet an emu and a camel, so I was pretty pumped about that. Yes, I'm like a 6 year old when it comes to the zoo!

The best part of the zoo-adventure? It wasn't seeing the penguin exhibit -- it was just outside of it. Since it's not a permanent part of the zoo, the little pengies don't have a whole lot of room. A few times every day, they are removed from their "display" and given an opportunity to get some more exercise in a larger space, though it is unfortunately out of the view of the public. But how do you move penguins? Since these are a relatively small breed, they use... cat carriers! Cutest thing ever!

A dose of Vitamin D, a bit of exercise and a chance to hang out with Scott after we both had busy weeks was pretty awesome!

Looking back

If you follow me on Twitter, you may read the occasional early morning tweet from me complaining about "Creepy Old Guy".  "COG" isn't necessarily that old -- I'd put him younger than the man on the bus we call "Generic middle aged man." But COG ages himself by trying to endear himself with everyone on the bus, without actually picking up that he's coming across as, well, creepy.

I can be not just mid-conversation, not just mid-setence, but mid-word to Scott as we wait for the bus and he will try to engage us. "It's my Monday" he says every second Tuesday (we all breathe a sigh of relief every second Monday, as he is off those days). "Awfully rainy out today" he says when there are 3 drops of moisture in the air. "Wonder when it's going to rain again" he says when the sun is shining. Those days when Scott and I take different buses: "Lost the hubby, did you?"

And it's not just that's he a morning person. On the bus ride home, when all I want to do is decompress, I can guarantee I'll have a tap on the shoulder and he'll say, loud enough for me to hear over my earphones, "How goes the battle?"

If this is a battle, give me a gun!

As I sat down to write yet another post about running, or about fitness, or about how we're eating healthy, I started to feel like maybe I was becoming "COG". Am I trying to force a topic that just won't work?

I know Creepy old guy is divorced, as he is not stingy with the comments about appreciating his "freedom, no longer having that ball and chain". He has a teenage son, but he rarely has custody. On the times his son does stay at his place, he looks weathered, and makes passing remarks of their fights, suggesting they are not close. He talks about his mother's cabin, but never about his mother. I presume she has passed on. He complains that his co-worker quit, and what a hardship it is for him. Creepy Old Guy organizes singles dances. He has signed up at a local tennis club for group lessons.

Creepy Old Guy isn't necessarily the pompous ass that Generic Middle Aged Guy says he is. Creepy Old Guy is desperate for companionship. For validation.

While it doesn't make Creepy Old Guy's habit of interrupting any less rude, his comments on what I deem appropriate work wear any more acceptable, or his fake familiarity with us any less creepy, it does make me understand him a bit better.

I've been feeling lost. It started with chopping off my hair. It still catches me off guard when I see my reflection. Now, I seem to not quite be aware of my body. My clothes feel like they fit drastically different. But I don't see the different. My muscles ache after a workout, and are stiff the next day, but I barely notice any difference in size or tone.

I can't see the value of my work. I keep hoping that if I say it enough, I'll see it. And when that doesn't work, I hope that if I hear people say that they see it, I'll believe them.

We all have our ways that we are like Creepy Old Guy. Whether it's about how we look, how we feel or what we do, when we can't bring ourselves to silence the nagging voice in the back of our head that says we're not strong enough, pretty enough, or have enough friends, and so we try to cancel it out by talking over it.

We're all just seeking the validation we can't find in ourselves.