Sometimes my guts have an overactive imagination

premonition-or-a-panic-attack-1

Trust your gut.  Your intuition.  We have all heard it.  This is supposed to be how we protect ourselves.  Being half Scottish, superstitions are in my bones.  As a child, I had foreseen my grandfather picking me up after school one day.  It wasn’t something that was ordinary, or planned for me by my parents; that I was aware of.  So when I saw his truck after school,  imagine my surprise when it was my uncle in my grandfather’s truck.  It was all legit, nothing bad happened.  My parents were unable to be home when the bus would drop me off, so they made alternate arrangements.

Premonitions.  I can say this was the first time I had one.  It wasn’t the last.  Sometimes I dream things up before they happen.  Other times, a stray thought turns from what if into a reality.  So there is a foundation for the thought at the start.  My gut does perceive things, and they turn out to be close to the truth, if not the truth before it happens.

So when do you know that your senses are misfiring?  At the risk of sounding a little off center, I have asked.  When I am second guessing myself, that is when I know it is time to see if I am being rational or irrational.  Most times I am over reacting.  So I am now learning that if I am wondering if I am being rational or not, usually I am not.  I have a big loud feeling that something bad is going to happen, and a little tiny feeling of maybe I am over reacting as well.  So now I have to try and find the correct feeling if the spidey sense goes off.  Better safe then sorry, when it comes to personal safety, but in relation to social or work doubts, it turns out that is usually what they are.  Not actual warnings of anything that is dangerous, but my overactive imagination; my own doubts.

When I have the wrong kind of gut feeling, it is hard to stomp it out.  It causes panic and over sensitivity too.  Those things are not productive, and the little doubts fan the flames.  I have to rationally calm down the irrational doubts.  Not an easy thing to do.  But necessary, for functioning in everyday life.

Having other things to focus on helps.  Diving into a book, or work, or a TV show can steer the panic away.  Diversion is a useful tool.  As long as it is not something that interrupts what needs to happen for life to continue on as it needs to do.  If I can’t shake it, things get worse before they get better.  Anxiety attacks are not nice.  I have had some when I didn’t understand what was happening.  That is scary.  When I realize what is happening, I am able to calm down.  When I don’t, they escalate.  That is bad news.  I wear my heart on my sleeve, and when I get worked up about something, it usually bubbles over somewhere in my day.  This is hard to explain, sometimes, as I can get angry or upset, and have difficulty verbalizing what is wrong.  There have been times when I am so upset that there is a physical reaction that prevents me from talking, a feeling like my throat is closing off.  It is hard to deal with other people when that happens, but I always bounce back.  It is what I do.

The first time I had a panic attack, I did not know what was happening.  I was hyperventilating, and close to fainting.  What did I do?  I called my Mom.  I was in another province at the time, and on day 9 of being a Nanny for 3 girls aged 10 and under.  Their parents were on another continent looking for a new home.  I was in the suburbs of Toronto, and on day 9 of 10 days alone with the girls, the reality and responsibility caught up with me. It was all a little too much for me to comprehend.  Thankfully, there was a relative of the girls nearby, and she gave me a break.  She sent me to the mall.  I calmed down after that and a beer.  I was legally able to drink that beer, being 19 or 20 years old at the time.

Not knowing what was happening was scary.  It was a while before I had another one, and because I do not have them frequently, I can miss the warning signs because I am not always on guard.  When I figure out what is happening, I can usually calm myself down.  Not everyone is so lucky.  Some people aren’t able to calm down without medication.  I am lucky that I can, and sympathize with anyone who goes through panic attacks that can’t calm down by themselves.  It is not anyone’s fault if they have panic attacks.  They happen.  People have to find coping strategies to deal with them, so they can function day to day.  What can you do if someone you know suffers from this?  Listen to them.  Sometimes that is the best thing that you can do.  Offering to help with a daunting task is also a good choice, if they are open to accepting your assistance.  Mostly support in whatever way you can, and in a way that they say is OK.  People that have panic attacks are still people, and helping a friend is never a bad thing, as long as they are able to accept what you want to do.  Taking over is not the way to go, that may make them feel like they are not capable of what they are trying to do, and even though you might feel better, they may not.  In this type of situation, you want your friend to feel like they can accomplish things, and by asking what you can do, you are helping.  Even if they decline your help, they know you care, and you want to help.  Sometimes that is all you can do, and all that is necessary.

It is important for your friend to know that you support them, so that they can do what they need to do to find their way out of the attack.  Don’t brush it off, or make light of what they are feeling.  It is real for them, I know.  It was real for me.  If they push you away, give them space, but keep checking on them.  Call, bring them a coffee, or take them out for one.  Little things can be big if they are done from your heart.  It can make the difference between the worst day ever, or the best friend that helps you feel better about yourself.  The world needs more people that want to be good friends.  So do what feels right, and hope for the best.  It will mean the world to your friend if you let them know you support them, however they let you.  Be the best friend you can be, and it will matter.  You can make a difference.  You may never know how big of an impact you are in someone else’s life, so make the effort.  You can’t fix everything, but you can help by being a good friend.

Advertisements

I think I Zumba-(ed) too hard

i-think-i-zumba-ed-too-hard

Here is another Tish-ism for you.  In my efforts to live a healthier lifestyle, I have added in two Zumba classes a week.  I do my best to be there, barring migraines and having to stay late at work once in a blue moon, I go.  Living in Canada, sometimes weather is an issue.  I am working on getting more active besides my Zumba classes, but for now, it’s my main activity every week.  Winter + Ice = Tish is scared to fall down.  So outdoor activities are not a thing for me in the winter, without the proper equipment.

I had a good amount of positive energy today,  and feel like my pedometer lied when it read 3700 steps.  It felt like a million tonight, at least.  I was in the Zumba Zone, and was literally working my butt off.  I know what that means.  When I go back to class Wednesday, I will be moving a little slower, and maybe in a little pain.  The good kind.  The kind of pain that is caused from exercise that was done correctly.  It also  means I worked out my muscles, and that I wasn’t just going through the motions.

At the end of a class, when I feel like this, the first thing that comes to mind is that I Zumba-(ed) too hard.

I don’t like pain.  I don’t deal with it very well.  Lately I have successfully convinced myself that there is a right kind of pain, and a wrong kind.  The right kind means that your muscles worked out and did what they were supposed to do.  That is why it is good, it was productive, no matter how bad it hurts.  It is neither throbbing, nor a high amount of pain.  The bad kind is counter productive.  If you rip or pull a muscle, it hurts a lot.  I pulled a ligament in one of my legs in elementary school.  I was mid-stride and went from running to limping and crying.  I had to wrap it and got a few days off from school.  I still remember how much it hurt when it happened.  I do not recommend trying this, ever.

No matter what is going on, I have come to enjoy going to Zumba.  I love dancing.  Sometimes it is not the same as what everyone else is doing, but I am still being active, no matter what I have to improvise.  That is important.

So when I was in the middle of class today, I really felt like I was completely in my Zumba Zone, and I went for it.  There are going to be days that I am not feeling up to giving 120% to the Zumba class.  Today was not one of those days.  I felt strong.  When things work for me, I am all in.  I left feeling like I had worked out today.  That is a big deal.  I am not an athletic type of person.  I do enjoy swimming, and dancing.  Biking is OK, but I haven’t had a bike for years. It’s the same for skating, I used to skate, but haven’t for years.  I walk, and I am starting to pick up my pace again when I have errands to run in the mall where I work, or even just for moving to the break room.  I sometimes feel my heart rate picking up, and even am short of breath when I push myself.

What am I getting at?  Well, there are days when you feel good and strong, and on those days like today, it is a good plan to push yourself a little bit harder.  If you do this, on the days you don’t feel up to the 120% and you aren’t in YOUR Zumba Zone, well, on those days 75% is OK.  You are doing the best you can.  For me it’s all about how I am feeling, and I know my limits.  I don’t think I am to the point I was about six months ago when I could feel my abdominal muscles the next day, but I am on my way back.  By the time the weather changes from winter to spring, I plan to be increasing my activity level.  When I am ready.  And when there is no more ice out there.  Until then, I’ll keep going to Zumba, I don’t have any plans to stop for a long time to come.

 

 

 

It is OK to celebrate small victories

fireworks

I have made some progress in my kitchen and in my health.  These are things that are important to me right now.  I am getting my environment ready to write a book.  I am preparing myself to be healthier when I write.  So tonight I plan to sit back with a nice glass of wine for a mini celebration of my progress.

The trick is to keep going.  A small celebration is OK, but it doesn’t mean I am done working on my projects.  Far from it.  The old me would have stopped, because I got something accomplished.  The new me that wants a more productive life, wants to finish it all. So I am taking a break.  Having a treat, and then getting some prep work done for lunches this week.

It looked like I missed throwing out expired bottles of salad dressing and the like last year.  That makes sense, as a year ago I was under medical restrictions concerning movement.  I was fighting a knee infection, and not able to move around as much as I like to. It was a scary experience, being told to stay as still as possible to prevent spreading the infection, and it was hard to comply.  Yet here I am, working on a deep cleaning project of my house, a year later.

I am back to normal (as close as I get, anyway) and focused.  My end goal is a book.  Then another.  It will take three to write a trilogy.  However, if I didn’t start with my cleaning projects first, they may never get done.  That’s not OK.  I have to be healthy to be productive, inside and out.  So I am not procrastinating about writing, not at all.  I am being realistic.  If I don’t make myself do this first, it won’t get done.  I know myself.  I will get sucked in to my imagination, and not come up for air for days.  Maybe weeks or even months.  The point is, I am doing it.  Working on my home, and working on making myself healthier also.

It is hard to sit at my desk, and not work on the immediate area.  I am creative, and would rather make a mess than clean it up.  I have to focus on the kitchen now, and another project will be my living room/office cleaning.  As my husband and I generally do work on the living room together, I will have help in that room.  Which is good.  I am not living here by myself.  I sent my husband out for groceries while I got ready to tackle the fridge.  I wish I could say I was ready when he got home, but I was in the middle of it.  So he put the freezer things away, and helped a little here and there.  He made me a kaiser roll with ham and swiss.  A regular roll is not on my plan, but sometimes if someone offers to make you something to eat, you have what is offered.

Another reason I do not want to start working on the living room/office right now is that I won’t finish either room.  I get distracted easily, and if I am working on multiple projects simultaneously, chances are one won’t be completed, maybe more than one.  So I have my reasons for working on things in order.  Once the whole house is clean, then I will begin a maintenance routine, something quick and efficient.

In terms of my health, the scale was nice this morning.  I am working harder to stay on plan, so I can start losing weight.  It is so much easier to be lazy about everything.  Last year I decided that what I was doing then was not working, and I decided it was  time to make some changes.  Trim Healthy Mama was in an ad on facebook one day, and I thought it was worth a shot.  I am still working on it, and have lost weight.  If I stick to it, it works, and I do try.  This year I am trying harder, and this will show me more results.

My snack for my celebration will include cheese, turkey pepperoni, some pickles, and that glass of wine.  I have a bottle that has been open a little too long, so I am going to have a glass from it.  Then I will have to go back to the kitchen.  I am not going to finish tonight.  I am going to finish up some dishes, and find some order in the chaos that happens when I clean.  Things move to where they are not in the way until I find a place to put them to stay.  And when I go to bed tonight, I will have a restful sleep after such a productive day.

As long as I continue working on my projects, I can have little celebrations along the way.  And chocolate.  85% cocoa chocolate IS on plan, and something I am also happy about!  Celebrate the little successes along the way, and keep going.  Whatever you are working on, do it.  It will be a giant snowball of positivity when you finish, and when you are on a roll, it’s easier to keep going than to stop.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I wish I had gherkin pickles.  Oh well, another grocery run in 2 weeks will fix that for me!

I made my husband look at the completed fridge.  Hearing him say, “Nice!” as he looked at the way I have organized our food was validation.  I did a good job.

A Kind Word Goes A Long Way

Give yourself a little Grace

swan-642584_1920

Copyright ©2017 Tish MacWebber

All rights reserved

Grace has its place

in my everyday life

I need it because

it grants a respite

If you allow

yourself some grace

it lets you be human

in the daily race

for perfection

The unobtainable goal

can taint you

deep inside your soul

By letting a little

grace in your life

It removes the guilt

that causes you strife

Stop looking up

at the bar over your head

Grab on and pull

look over the top instead

Take that dose of reality

and swallow it down

Learn how to float

rather than drown

Take a break; catch your breath

it will  be okay

Don’t worry yourself to death

tomorrow is a new day.

 

It was dark when I got up before…

it-was-dark-when-i-got-up-before

…and made my way to my desk.  As a writer, you learn very quickly that when you wake up in the middle of the night and an idea is floating around in your head, it is best to write it down somewhere before it drifts off into the darkness.  It can take many forms, a dream, a nightmare, a whisper in your ear, and sometimes it could be a word or a sentence forming a complete thought.

I have learned, through my songwriting, that an idea MUST be written down the minute it happens, because the second you forget it, there is no rewind button to find it again.  So I had an idea in the middle of the night, and I came into the living room to write it down.  I have a lamp at my desk, and it is easy enough to do.  I find I sleep better after I write it down, as it won’t be lost when I need to work on it.  This is also true because I don’t fall asleep trying to memorize what I don’t want to forget.

Sometimes a good dream can make an incredible story, or a joke.  For example, I shared this story in October before I had this blog set up, before I had even thought of starting it.

So this morning, my husband tells me a story that woke me up and made me laugh. It was about a lizard named Guano. Apparently, this lizard was bad news. He said he lit granny’s chair on fire, and she was still sitting in it, and he didn’t know whose grandmother it was. Then he commented to a guy; as he saw it looking at him with one of its googly eyes as it was riding down the street on a Harley, that he didn’t know lizards drank Jack Daniels. The guy replied, ” Happens in Montreal all the time.” (We don’t live in Montreal).  Finally, he then asked why the lizard is named Guano, because he obviously is not an Iguana. The guy answered with…wait for it…”We call him Guano because he’s bat shit crazy, man!” And that, folks, is why you should write down your dreams, because sometimes, there is a good story in there, or in this case, a great punch line! It was my husband’s dream, and it was very entertaining!

If I hadn’t written it down the same day it happened, it would have been lost.  A story like that is begging to be shared.  So,  when I have an idea at work, I e-mail it to my personal  e-mail at home, to be waiting for me.  When I have an idea in the middle of the night, I make my way to a pen and paper and write it down.  It is where the song Lucky came from.  We woke up in the middle of the night to a beeping noise.  The battery on our smoke detector was losing its juice, so it started beeping at us to change it.  In the middle of the night, of course.  The first line of the song started in my head, and within a few minutes, I had written the whole song.

If you are a creative person, or if you have a problem in your life that you just can’t figure out, I have two pieces of advice for you:

1) Sleep on it.

2) When an idea strikes, no matter where it comes from, write it down!

You will thank yourself for following these two simple steps, I guarantee it!

The Story of Tish MacWebber

Once upon a time a man was introduced to his granddaughter, Patricia MacLellan.  When he met her, he called her Tish.  It stuck.  Tish MacLellan grew up in Cape Breton, in a house that used to be a church, on the world famous Cabot Trail.  She spent her summers at local beaches and at a place she calls The Cabin.  She learned to swim, and spent a lot of time rock hopping along the shores and coastlines of Cape Breton Island.  She had a wild imagination, and dreamed of owning a horse someday.  She still has her walkman with the best mixed tape ever, and it still works, even after putting all of those years and miles on it.

She loved to read, and began writing.  Creative writing is one of many hobbies that she spent her spare time on.  She kept a diary and when she got older, she called it a journal.  She enjoyed cross stitching and embroidery.  She learned to knit and to crochet.  In high school, she wrote her first song.

Her love for animals made her decide to take a pre-vet program at NSAC.  She was ill during her first year, and this delayed her completion of her B.Sc in Agriculture, majoring in Animal Science.  While studying at NSAC, she met her future husband, Roy Webber.  They dated, fell madly in love, and made it official with a wedding.  The same day they got married, there was a hurricane.  It was all very memorable, and all who attended the celebration of their marriage had a wonderful time, despite the weather.

Before the wedding happened, Tish was thinking about the name she wanted after she married Roy.  She thought it would be a fun thing to create a new last name, and they could both become the first MacWebber Clan.  Roy did not agree to this idea, and did not want to make any changes to his last name.  Not even when Tish told him that she would create a brand new tartan for the new name.  Tish decided to go the traditional route and take his last name, and legally became Patricia Webber.  It didn’t take her long to adapt to her new name.

They moved around the Maritimes so much, that Roy’s family joked about them being gypsies.  After living all over Nova Scotia, they moved to New Brunswick, shortly after a brief time living in Prince Edward Island.  In Fredericton, New Brunswick,  they made new friends, had roommates, and eventually bought their own mini home.  They had cats constantly as pets for many years.  After living in apartments for the majority of the years they were together, Tish decided that it was time, now that they have a home of their own, to get a dog.  She  looks forward to that.  She still has no horse of her own, yet, the baby barn is not quite big enough for a horse.

When Tish decided one day that it was time to take a chance and share her songwriting with the world, she thought about creating a blog.  Little did she know that it would build itself into a bigger project than she had imagined.  She had also always wanted to write a fantasy trilogy, being a fan of reading them, herself.  She asked her friends online what the best options were, and decided to go with a Blog page here, on WordPress.  Then another new friend stepped up and made her think beyond the surface of what she was building.  She revisited an old idea of hers to write her novels under a pen name, and she remembered wanting to become the first MacWebber.  So, there it was.  Tish MacWebber became her pen name.

Her beginner attempts at creating a blog page were good, but they weren’t great.  So she asked again for help, and her new friends helped her some more.  One of them took her page and changed it, and this was her new and improved starting point.  Tish absorbed all the information this friend had shared with her, and thought long and hard about the next steps.   She is very grateful for all of the help her new friends have given her, and she plans to return the favour, even if it is just by paying it forward.  When she asked about her colours, branding and logo, people liked it for different things, but it wasn’t what she needed it to be.  She kept thinking.  After about three weeks of mulling it over in her mind, things clicked into place, simultaneously.

She searched through hundreds of colour palettes, picking her favourites.  She found one that she kept referring back to, and decided that it was the one she would choose.  Then she made a tartan design.  She got her friends and family to give opinions on her progress as she tried to put the pieces all together.  Her father told her that a circle would not be wrong on a tartan, rather that it would be the french connection.  Her mother is french, so it fit.  The motto for Clan MacLellan is, “Think On.”  Her logo was developed with the phrase “Always Thinking…” because she is a dreamer that does think a lot; but also to honour her ancestors.  Her cousin helped her pick the final design, and through their online chat the “…” was added to the logo.  So that explains the colour, logo, and the circle.  But the circle is made up of diamonds.  The diamonds symbolize the marriage of all these things together, and connects all of the dots.

Tish does tend to overthink things at times.  However, when she does this in terms of being creative, and it works, it makes her feel amazing.  Being creative is her passion.   She is going to share it with the world, and see how far it will take her.

Friday the 13th, brought to me by an upset stomach and a wardrobe malfunction

There are some things that it is prudent to be superstitious about.  Until today, I never really worried about Friday the 13th.  Then again, today was not like any other that I have experienced.

Once in a blue moon, I have issues with my digestive tract.  Today was one of those days.  From when I woke up this morning before the alarm, and even now, the tummy has been off all day.  It is usually related to something I ate, or a virus.  I am hoping for the first one, because it will work its way out faster.  So this morning set the tone for an unlucky day.

Made it to work, safely.  Many years ago, my husband was driving us somewhere on another Friday the 13th, and the wet pavement caused a minor fender bender with a taxi.  Nobody was hurt, just our budget.  Things like this happen, but they tend to stick out in your memory a little further when they happen on a Friday the 13th.

I knock on wood to scare away bad luck.  I don’t walk under ladders.  Some people have routines.  Growing up, there were lots of superstitions in Cape Breton.  Someone was always doing some little thing or blaming the spooks and running the other way throwing salt over their shoulder.

So the tummy trouble was not unusual in and of itself.  Then I made it to my break time. Normally, I make a trip to the ladies room on every break, so I don’t have to take extra breaks for that reason alone.  Some days this works.  Other days, I need the extra trip.  If it’s worse than that I usually stay home.  Today, I decided to go to work, and tough it out.

Don’t be scared, it is not a messy story.

As I was preparing to use the facilities, POP! There went the button on another pair of jeans.  The place it used to be now has a big hole where it was.    So I am thinking that I have 2 pairs of jeans for the next clothing donation day.  Good for my friend, again, not so good for my budget.

In the list of all the things to go wrong in your work day, this is not an optimal situation to be in.  Not the end of the world, in any way, but a small pickle to find oneself in, nonetheless.  I did what anybody in this situation would do.  I blamed the date, and found a paperclip.  I twisted the paperclip in such a way that I needed scissors to break out of it when I got home.  The pants are not too tight, normally, but today I found myself a little more bloated than normal, with the tummy troubles, and it caused this wardrobe malfunction.

So there you have it.  On a positive note, I survived.  The jeans were not so lucky.

Even Storm Troopers want to join our Zumba Crew

A part of my New Healthy Lifestyle that I have been working towards for more than two years now has been adding physical activity into my routine.  At my current job, there was a team for the local Relay for Life Charity event, and I joined.  I have gone to a few Relay Events in the last five years, and that is where I found the Zumba Crew.  The group size ranges from year to year, and class to class.  The core group has remained, for the most part, the same. It is a private group, not that we don’t accept new members, but that it is not based out of a gym.  We meet twice a week, and I have been working at it and getting better all the time.

The featured picture above was from Relay For Life 2016.  This is just a few of us.  The photo bomber Storm Troopers in the background looking like they want to be a part of the Zumba Crew really were there.  They were in another group for Relay, and they gathered a lot of attention.  But if you look past the Zumba Crew, you can see it.  They want to join in.  That happens around our Zumba Crew.  We have a lot of fun!

As you can see, one of the Storm Troopers joined in for Zumba at Relay 2016.  It was really fun!  I have come a long way in my healthier lifestyle goals.  I have always finished class.  Not always doing the same thing as everyone else, or keeping the same pace, but I am there until the end.  The first time I did Zumba at Relay, I had two; not one but TWO charlie horses in my calves.  I wanted to quit.  But I thought about where I was, and what I was participating in.  Thought about how it was to raise money to cure cancer, and if you have cancer, and need to go through treatments, you can’t just quit in the middle if you want to beat it.  So I toughed it out.

Since then, I have never had an experience quite like it.  I am grateful for that.  I have had health issues in the past year that forced me to take a break from Zumba.  I am happy to report that I am back, and getting stronger again.  I am keeping pace better, and trying harder at doing the same moves as everyone else.  I  have to do my own thing, sometimes, because I still have a long journey ahead of me to becoming a healthier version of myself.  Something I want people to take away from reading this is that it doesn’t have to be Zumba, and it doesn’t have to be perfect.  But if you pick something you enjoy doing and work at it on a regular basis, you will improve, and you will be a better person for it.

So go out there and try something new.  Or get involved in something you used to like doing.  Make friends.  Have fun.  It might be the best thing you can do for yourself!  Trust me, the best part of my Mondays and Wednesdays is rushing out of work to go join my friends at Zumba Class.  Find your Zumba, and start becoming the best version of you that you can be!

Donation Day

After purging my closet a little over a month ago, I had a destination in mind for the clothes that would no longer take up space in my wardrobe.  It is a result of a furniture rearrangement project in the master bedroom.  The clothes were way out of control.  When you don’t like to put things away, they pile up, and one of two things happens.  You give up and live in a place that looks like several bombs went off, or you get fed up and do something about it.  So, during the first full week of December, my husband and I tackled the master bedroom.

Several months ago, he came home one night to find that the project was started without him.  Then I did my thing, and worked on other stuff for a while.  Until I couldn’t stand it any longer.  He had been after me to put the clothes away, and I decided it would be the perfect time to purge them.  We worked together on the furniture rearrangement.  By the time I had sorted the keep pile and was ready to get them all put away, it was heading for 3 AM.  He came to the rescue and helped me finish.  Sometimes he reminds of why I fell in love with him.  He is a keeper.  My 3 AM hero.

Fast forward to today.  I had made a point of keeping the clothing for a donation.  I have a friend that re-purposes clothing into other useful, beautiful things.  Like messenger bags.  It is a source of income for her family, and being a creative person myself, I wanted to give the two and a half bags of clothing to her.  She may find some gems to wear, and that is OK too, although most of my clothing would be the wrong size.

We had decided to go to a movie tonight.  We have seen a few movies together over the years, it is something we both enjoy.  After we delivered 50% of the clothing I used to have in my closet and in piles around the bedroom, it felt good.  There was a little twinge when I saw them one last time, but I’m never going to fit into the black and white polka dot dress I got for my sweet sixteenth birthday again.  So I passed it on, and decided a movie on cheap night was a fitting reward.

Since we had planned ahead, he made supper so we wouldn’t have to eat out.  We made the donation delivery, then rushed home to eat.  I puttered around for a couple of minutes getting ready and he went out to start the car.  That is when irony decided to rear its ugly head.  I got my coat, turned off the lights, locked the door, climbed into the car and that is when it happened.  Another pair of jeans died tonight.  On the left inside thigh, not a little hole, they are no longer fit to be worn in public.

So I sat in the car long enough to realize that I had to go change my pants.  After that fiasco, we went to the movie.  We missed the first of the trailers, but still had time to enjoy the show. (We both enjoyed Rogue 1).   Now we are home again, and I have to start a new donation pile.  Oh, the irony.

Something else came to mind in light of this unfortunate event.  A person with a thigh gap never has this problem, and I am a little jealous of that.  I am overweight, and even when I was not, this thigh gap phenomenon has never been something I have experienced.  Year after year I wear through the inner thighs of my pants.  Mostly jeans, because I love a comfy pair of jeans.  Until I walk my way through them.  It’s not like a seam tear that can be fixed.  The fabric actually wears down to the point where it is almost see through, and then they blow out.  It’s not even a size issue, because they fit comfortably, it is just where they are worn out from being a favourite pair of jeans.

As hard as it was to give away the treasured pieces of my wardrobe by choice, another pair of jeans going down was far more traumatic.  There are times when I notice the fabric is starting to look worn, and I can prepare myself for the inevitable tragedy.  Today was not one of those days.  At least it happened at home, in my driveway, and a change of pants was not a big deal. It could have been worse.  What is the silver lining here?  I have to go shopping for new jeans.  I guess it is time for a new pair.  Time to start looking for a good sale.  One or two pairs of new jeans would be a treat too.

 

 

Margarita Moments

A Margarita is a cocktail made of tequila, lemon or lime juice, and triple sec typically served in a salt-rimmed glass.  margarita. (n.d.). Retrieved January 9th, 2017, from http://www.yourdictionary.com/margarita

Are you ready for another Tish-ism?  It is hilarious, breathtaking and involves tears; all at the same time.

When I had my first margarita several years ago, I was with friends.  We were out for supper, and then we were going to a social event.  We had plans to view anime at a local venue, with more friends.  So we had our meal, with a margarita.  If I remember correctly, we had the meal at a Mexican restaurant, hence the margarita with the meal.

About an hour later, we were in the lobby outside the theatre where the anime was being viewed.  A few of us were taking a break to socialize, as there were different episodes of different anime shows being played throughout the evening, so it was not uncommon for small groups of people to hang out in the lobby and chit chat while waiting for the next one to start.

There is no recollection of the exact thing that started what I was going to term my first margarita moment.  Something struck me funny.  Really funny.  I started laughing uncontrollably.  Then came the tears.  Hilarity ensued, as I continued the laughing fit and nobody else got the joke.  Which made me laugh even harder, to the point where I had to force myself to breathe because the laughing and crying had caused me to lose my breath.  Literally.

So the next time that happens to you, take comfort in the fact that you are not alone.  Margarita moments can happen to anyone, at any time.  Plot twist: margaritas are optional.