Gaining "Sight" On What I Am Grateful For

Today is a day where we celebrate everything in our lives that makes us give thanks. I’ve had a couple of experiences as of late that made me really stop and think of what exactly I’m grateful for. Where do I start? The question of “What are you thankful for in life?” is almost impossible to answer without it sounding like a cliche. So, how DO I answer that exactly?

Of course, I think I have THE most wonderful parents. Do they make me crazy? Yes! But I love them with all my heart. We’re a small but mighty family, if you will--extremely close and we truly enjoy each other’s company for certain periods of time (I’m just saying what everyone is thinking about when they spend too much time with their family). My Dad just went through a major operation that made me realize exactly how mortal we are and that we are not here for an endless period of time and moreover, how important it is to always let each other know how you feel. Some people don’t have any family at all, and if they do, they may be treated horribly or have been abandoned by them. I feel very lucky to have the family that I do.

I have also been blessed with a beautiful daughter who faces life with the adversity of autism. She is the bravest and most incredible person I know. This is someone who has taught me the true meaning of compassion and understanding, which transcends to the rest of my world, and has helped me become the person I am. How fortunate am I to be her mother.

I also literally don’t know what I would do without the amazing friends I have. My friends have come into my life at different times, and I cherish them all, because to me, they are an extension of my family and I would be lost without them. I have a favourite saying: “The best things in life aren’t things.” To me, they are the people and experiences in my life that make me who I am and always make me strive to be a better person. I think of all the “things” I have and yes, naturally I enjoy my wardrobe with the plethora of clothes, handbags, and shoes in it. I love my home and all the comforts I’ve put into call it a home. I like using all my gadgets, driving my car, and taking trips. I work hard to have those “things” and it’s all great, don’t get me wrong BUT if you took everything away from me, at the end day--just give me my family and my friends.

Mmmm...wait just a moment. Maybe there are a few other things I am thankful for now that I think about it. And it was this experience that took me to that stage of recognition:

My friend Sheila was kind enough to take me out for dinner on my birthday a few weeks back. We collaborated on where we wanted to go, and agreed upon a restaurant called Dark Table. This restaurant concept is all over the world and is quite a unique dining experience. Why? Well, you eat your meal in absolute and total darkness--it’s literally pitch black. No light of any sort. So, just to clarify, you do order your food ahead of time where you can see the menu. Your server (all the servers are visually impaired) meets you at the door outside and then you follow him or her into the restaurant or rather into the abyss as I like to say. No joke, you can’t see a thing.

After the server guided us to our table and we were finally seated, we had to feel around to see where everything was--it was very, very weird. It sounded like a normal restaurant, with other patrons chatting away and music in the background. When it came to buttering my bread, I didn’t spread it properly, so I ate the whole pad of butter in one go...ick! I could not for the life of me figure out what the hell the appetizer was. Given there is no “feeling” at the end of a utensil, I almost shoved four ravioli up my nose and couldn’t tell if I even finished my plate of food. I kept putting an empty spoon up to my mouth during dessert. It’s funny, because everyone was eating in the dark and no one could see me, I started to relax to the point where I was licking the seasoning salt quite vivaciously off the glass of my caesar. I also finally used my fingers to eat the dessert purely out of frustration.

From a sensory perspective, I realized exactly how much I rely on my vision to help me enjoy food. The food was good, but there was something missing from the experience--I get visual pleasure out of seeing what I am about to eat (most of the time). I also use my vision to help me think--I felt kind of stupid and lost not only while poking around for my food, but just in general. I could hear Sheila’s voice, but couldn’t see her facial expressions or her body language--things I often use to pick up non-verbal cues when communicating. I did become totally and utterly relaxed after the meal, but logic would dictate that after eating big meal while sitting in complete darkness, one would just want to fall asleep right then and there in the chair. Outside of upsetting the person you’re with, what would stop you?

The perfect ending to this experience was when we left. Our server came to get us up from the table--Sheila was behind me and I was behind him, or so I thought. I walked right into him and he was actually facing me. Awkward moment? Of course not! We just hugged for a bit...closely (interestingly enough that seems to be my modus operandi these days). And just as we were about to enter back into the land of the seeing, I gave the server one last hug and a peck on the cheek, and there it was--my sight was back in all it’s glory.  How fortunate were we to know that after dinner, we would have our sight again.

And there you have it. Outside of friends and family, I am eternally grateful and thankful for my health--to have all my senses fully functional. I can see all the bright and bold colours of the autumn leaves on the trees right now. I can hear the beautiful sound of my daughter’s voice when she says “I love you Mom”. I can touch and hold my Grandma’s hand, a hand that helped me learn how to crochet and cook. I can taste the salt on my skin when I swim freely in the open ocean. I have everything and recognize that every day.


And lastly, we can’t forget the sense that is not so “common”...

There is so much good in this world, and so much of the time, it gets masked by the bad. I am perhaps one of the few people on this planet who doesn’t have cable, and I love it. I also choose not to watch the news (I keep tabs with the on-line financial news only due to my job in the financial industry) and I like it that way. I receive good news stories through social media channels like Twitter or Facebook, where I can surround myself with all the beautiful happiness that is out there. Someone said to me once that I’m just sticking my head in the sand, and yes, perhaps I am to some degree. Much of what the Dalai Lama does resonates with me and I do the same. He said that in a difficult situation, he recognizes the tragedy within it, feels the pain of it for a moment, and then lets it go. I do recognize the bad that goes on around me and in the world, and I do feel the hurt, the pain, the suffering for that person, animal, etc., but then I let it go. I never hang on to it, because it doesn’t help to do that. I find other ways to help the situation instead, if I can (I’ll be writing a blog post on homelessness shortly that explains this concept in greater detail).

Every single person has the ability to be loving, kind, compassionate and understanding to our fellow humans, and to all living things (except spiders and snakes...just kidding, or am I?), including our mother Earth. It’s a choice--I’ve seen and heard of people who have faced extreme adversity in their lives only to overcome those odds and become a better person. I am so grateful for being able to recognize that I am not the center of the universe, and that I can do so much to help the lives of those around me. That might not seem like a typical thing to be grateful for, but as you may already have discovered, I am light years from typical.


Happy Thanksgiving!

Single Women in Our 40's - What DO We Really Want?

This blog post is dedicated to my Grandma who is turning 90 shortly and who still kisses, hugs, and acts goofy with my Grandpa, after 65 years of marriage. She is always telling me to “never chase a man”. Her theory, and it’s a good one, is, if a man is interested, he will come to you...he will do the “wooing”, and of course, it will just feel natural. I love my Grandma so much...she is so sweet and prays for me every night to find love. It should be easy then, right?



I’m not sure what 43 is supposed to feel like, so maybe I’m completely off the mark on this one, but I can honestly say that I’ve never felt better than how I feel at this point in my life. Of course, I wish I had all my now-learned insightfulness when I was 20 just to save myself some of the inherent pain of supposed beneficial experience over the last few decades.

I’ve been single for a number of years now, with a few on and off longer-term dating experiences during that time. Some were good, and some were frightening, and after just turning 43 last week, I took some time to reflect and think about why I’m still single, and why a big handful of my girlfriends are single too. By the way, for those of you in the United Kingdom, when I say girlfriend, I mean a friend that’s a girl. When I was in Scotland and Wales last year, I quickly learned to make that distinction. I like men, always have, and always will.

I know so many women my age that are single. Incidentally, the bulk of them live in the vicinity of Vancouver, Canada, and all live within the statistics that show there is one single man to six single women in this city. Interesting. And then the question becomes who is this one single guy? Is he the psychotic maniac that just tried to run you off the road on your drive home? And if so, then what happens to the stats--is it now one single man that’s normal to six single women, making it really one single man to a hundred single women? I know the guys will be up in arms reading this--yes, there are crazy, nut-bar women out there too, but the fact of the matter is, women have a harder time meeting men in this city, period. There just aren’t enough of you.

When I look at all my single girlfriends (and myself for that matter), they are all smart, funny, attractive, somewhat sporty, happy, healthy, independent...whoa, back up. I said independent. We, as women, take that as a complete and utter positive, and so we should. I most certainly do. I love the fact that I can fix a hole in the drywall from plowing my driver through the wall by accident when yanking my clubs out of the closet last spring. I can replace a lightbulb, paint a wall, and change the oil in my car. I can manage my time, my home, and my finances (well, that’s an easy one given I’m a Financial Planner). I make my own healthy meals, I make my own money, and I make my own schedule. I create my social life, family life, and work life. I do what I want, when I want, and how much I want, and answer to no one. I make my very own happiness each and every day, and depend on no one or nothing to do that for me. So if we ditch the term “independent” since it sounds rather callous and cold, what, then, is missing from this fabulous life?

A man. Which man? Who is he and where is he? The old adage of “It will just happen when you least expect it”--one more time of being told that and I think I’m going to puke. Sorry, but WHEN is this supposed to happen because I don’t ever expect it (even though I’m hopeful)! And there’s another nail on the head. I have no expectations of people, unless they are blatantly being disrespectful or if they were hired to do a specific job, etc, and aren’t doing it. When you don’t have expectations of people, they will not disappoint you or let you down--easier said than done. Hurtfulness can come packaged in many different ways, but sometimes we initiate it by placing expectations on people, then we become disappointed when they don’t meet OUR expectations which they had nothing to do with it the first place, yet we get angry at them for not doing what we hoped they’d do!

Feminism is a beautiful thing...I can’t imagine living in a time where I wouldn’t be able to vote, had to quit my job if I got married or pregnant, or not be able to participate in a sport, all because I was a woman. So even though we are so happy to have moved onto a more even playing field as time goes on, I often hear single women in my age group say that they wish (and I’ve said this myself too), that the men in their age would hold open a door for them, pull out their chair for them to sit, etc. Most of those men were raised by first generation feminists, with their mother’s saying, “Son, women are very independent now--they can open their own doors--this isn’t the 40’s anymore. They’ll really appreciate you recognizing that.” So do we? Being a die-hard romantic and a Libra true to form, I want both--the benefits of the feminism movement AND doors being held open for me. And I don’t see why I can’t have it, after all, I’m just asking for a basic show of kindness when it comes down to it. Yes, I’m physically capable of opening a door. But when I’m carrying a laptop case, a purse, a smoothie, my keys, my gym bag, a yoga mat and potentially the kitchen sink, it’s just so nice when that door gets opened for you, especially by a man, and even more so when you’re not carrying anything at all.

In talking to women of all ages that are on their own, they agree with me on what seemingly would be a bizarre concept, of being in a monogamous relationship, but you each live in your own place, have your own money, see each other a few times a week, travel and explore together, and maybe there’s a sleep over here and there, and that way, you have your relationship while still maintaining some independence. The women of my generation specifically are thinking exactly like that, for the most part. Right now men are reading this going “What the f---?” (or maybe not?). I’m sorry guys, but that’s becoming today’s reality of the independent woman.

My father once told me if I don’t “play a little dumb” once in awhile, it will be hard to attract a man in the long run. Sorry Dad, but that doesn’t work for me. I think what he was trying to say, is that sometimes men can be threatened by a strong and powerful woman. Men tend to admire us for our intelligence and our non-dependent nature, but then are seemingly threatened by it at the same time. That’s not my man. I want someone who will stand up to me and speak to me like an equal. I usually make most men cower (not literally of course) and they eventually succumb to my opinions and ideas. I don’t like that. I’ve only met one man in my life that actually stood up to me through our friendship for a number of years and didn’t back down from me--always with respect of course, but challenged me in my thought processes. I think of him often actually, because I miss that connection--it’s so rare to find, certainly for someone like me.

Case and point: when we alpha-females play, we play hard. I love sword-fighting. The last two-handed longsword class I was in, I took the drill one step further and disarmed my male opponent of his sword. Apparently that was not allowed and I was reprimanded by the instructor who then whispered to me as he walked away, “That was awesome!”. I also apparently disarmed my partner of his masculinity given he was quite put out by my actions instead of rising to the occasion and congratulating me for being a good sword-fighter (he was never in danger by the way). However, there are some men who don’t feel threatened by a dominant woman. For example, last year, I went with a friend of mine to her Events and Adventures night for singles at the indoor Go Kart track in Richmond. I’ve been there many times, and I can drive a race car, even if it’s just a pint-sized one. I usually beat most people that are racing against me, it just is what it is. I also have a strong competitive streak in me too, which doesn’t help in situations like this. Sure enough, I beat out most of the men and the one fellow who won against me (he looked very much like the rapper Ice Tea), came up to me after the race and told me how awesome it was that I almost kicked him out of first place (we were nano-seconds apart at the finish). Thank you. That was cool.

What I have discovered through my dating years and experience with men is that just as we women don’t want to be painted all with the same brush, we can’t paint men all with the same brush either. There are a LOT of women who live in crazy-town out there, who drive men mental and tend to cling-on to become el desperado, making our gender synonymous with term “psycho crazy chick”. I’m not one of those women. What scares me is that I’m at the other end of the spectrum. I am doing just fine without a man. But deep down, I think we all want to have that special someone in our lives, and it makes no matter whether you’re a man or a woman. That feeling of falling in love is irreplaceable (chocolate comes close though)--everyone wants to feel those endorphins flowing through them.

Much like many of my girlfriends, I would love to fall in love. As time goes by, the definition of “being in love” changes for me based on my experiences and how I am developing as a person. Love is different to everyone, that’s what makes it so hard to find. And when you find “it”, why doesn’t it stick around? Sometimes it does, sometimes it gets complicated because people make it more complicated than it should be. Another one of my theories is that you can feel anything and everything for a particular man, but if he doesn’t feel the same way back, then let him go--it will never work if you’re not both on the same page.

Of course I’m the one who believes in that Knight-in-Shining-Armour idea--I also need wooing--I must be woo-ed. I know I’m not alone in those thoughts, am I ladies? If guys are trying to figure out what the one thing is that women who are “independent” are looking for, this is it: we want to feel safe. Period. I’ve heard that time and time again. I may be independent to the max, but I want to be with a man who makes me feel protected and safe, but who also gives me my space to be me and do the things that help me fulfill and enrich my life. I don’t want to do everything with a man, rather, I would want us to each have those same fulfilling and enriching experiences for ourselves, and then bring our lives together to help us grow and evolve with each other.

Then the ultimate question is posed to me and to all women alike who are in the same boat: If you’re so busy with everything you’re doing, places you’re going, and people you’re seeing, then how do you have room to welcome Prince Charming into your life? My answer is simply that when the right man comes along, he will fit into your life and vice-versa, and it will be seamless. Compromise is always on the table, but it will feel good, not as if you’re losing something. When it comes to time, you’ll make time, if that special person is important enough to you. So for now, I’m going to have to stick with my Grandma’s advice...after all, it worked for her then, and today, she’s still in love...65 years later. Thanks Grandma, xox.

Packers Still Rule, 25 Years Later

Twenty-five years ago, I graduated high school. It’s hard to believe that much time has passed--it feels like a lifetime ago. I had the opportunity to help organize our event last night, to put all these amazing people in the same space together after a quarter of a century. And you know what I discovered? We are a damn good looking group of 43 year olds! Seriously--maybe the BC Packers plant down the road was emitting something else other than the overwhelming stench of rotting fish, but whatever it was, we turned out to be an awesome bunch, us Steveston Packers.

*Just a small disclaimer: I am going to write this in a way that “protects the innocent” if you will...in other words, I am not going to put names to any of my stories. That way, even though I have nothing but positive things to say, I can speak freely about the night without making people feel awkward or embarrassed. For those who were there, it might turn into a fun game to see how many people’s names you can guess based on the stories and descriptions. All I ask is that if you comment, please be respectful and follow my lead sans names. If it’s you, and you feel comfortable, feel free to LOL.*

High school is always the Breakfast Club--when you are in school that is. Everyone is trying to figure out who they are and how they fit in. What an awkward and weird period in one’s life. When you get out of school and head into the real world, those roles dissipate over time and you become your own person, hopefully building and evolving on your passions and discovering what makes you happy. In anticipation of this reunion, it gave way to some thought about who I was then and who I have become.

I was VERY different in high school--quiet, somewhat shy, not terribly outspoken at all, and a little naive too. I did a lot of activities outside of school, so I almost dis-engaged myself to some degree. I’m ok with that. To the untrained eye, I’ve changed quite dramatically, but in actual fact, my vivacious and gregarious personality has always been present, it’s just become more visible, evolving as I get older. Evolution of persona is going to be different for everyone, and it isn’t always displayed in an outward way like mine. I noticed some people last night who more the observers to all the goings on--and that’s awesome--we need more people in this world who can sit back and not feel they need to be the centre of attention. I’ve somehow slighted myself in that comment, so I’ll simply say that I truly enjoy talking to people and have a genuine interest in them, I just happen to do it in a very extroverted way.

I had a roomie for the weekend that came in for the reunion (and our little elementary school one beforehand). She is someone who has gone to school with me right from Grade 1 to Grade 12, and while I don’t happen to see her for years at a time (she lives in Vernon), we are able to pick up right where we left off, and it’s wonderful. After lounging in front of the fire at my place, we finally got our asses off the sofa, put our party clothes on (incase some of you were wondering, my circa 1970’s look last night was a Betsey Johnson runway piece, which has probably burned a hole into your retinas by now given it was quite colourful to say the least) and headed to the Buck and Ear in Steveston. Here’s some event planning for you: no planning needed, except setting it up on Facebook (thanks Jen!), a venue and labels. Let’s face it, everyone is just so busy these days, that planning a formal event is extremely time consuming (memories from the 20th are coming back), so we went with a local spot and voila.

For someone with a photographic memory, I am terrible at remembering names--faces yes, names no, so labels came in handy (except mine, which just pulled my hair out). And after talking to quite a few people last night, it’s not just our memories that seem to be failing at this age--apparently my waning eyesight and my new habit of having to hold out tiny printing away from my face seems to be common place these days. It’s hard for me to live in denial now thanks to the obvious answer from last night: get some glasses.

One of my classmates was just like me back in school when it came to being a bit quieter. I haven’t seen him since school and holy moly, he was now very boisterous--we talked about that and it was really interesting. It was almost as if he was a different person so it gave me a chance to understand why people say that about me. He did insist however, that I was someone else, saying he remembers me at his birthday party, etc. So please, let me clarify...

For the record, I am not the sister of the fellow who shares my last name (which is actually my ex-husband’s last name, who incidentally also when to Steveston two years ahead of our class). My pseudo-brother is really a neat guy--didn’t chat with him much last night, but has a ridiculous amount of style, is extremely witty from the looks of his Facebook comments, and owns and manages a successful business. I would like him to bring his actual sister to one of these things just so we can get a photo showing that we are NOT the same person.

A highlight of the night was connecting with a girlfriend I hadn’t seen since we graduated. She looks fantastic and married to THE nicest guy who graciously came with her. We had a good laugh remembering skipping out of Algebra class, hopping in her car and going for lunch at Chi Chi’s and then doing a little shopping at the Mall. Interestingly enough, we both passed Algebra though! She and her husband tried to sell me on their single guy friend who has moderate to severe anger issues...yes folks, this is the pot of available men that we single women have to choose from now.

Through school, I had many crushes. There was a core group of fellows that hung around together that at one time or another, I had a thing for. One of these guys was always in my art classes--he usually astounded his fellow classmates and teachers alike with his stunning artwork. The cool thing about him now, is that he actually followed his talent, whereby his artwork has been on coin sets and stamps. Another one of the fellows in this group used to play the guitar (and I think still does)--every time I see him at one of these reunions, I think of the Rolling Stones immediately. He posted a picture of his daughter in a music store on Facebook recently, holding a guitar...how neat is that to see his talent passed on to his child (I can only hope that she has an aptitude for music other than the Stones). And the musical talent continues with another fellow who followed in his father’s footsteps and is a famous percussionist in a band that plays all over the world, and, to prove how small this world is, happens to be dating my good friend’s friend. To round out the 4 man crush thing, I remember in one of my drama classes doing a lip-sync to Def Leppard (don’t ask), and I borrowed this guy’s cardboard guitar at the last minute. He had put a lot of effort into making it very realistic looking, and in one fatal swoop during my drama act, I completely destroyed it...we laughed about it last night, but I remember seeing the look of horror on his face when I lopped off the buttons by mistake on stage. He lives in Seattle now--a city that I absolutely love, and looks exactly as he did in school.

Then there was my BIG crush....from Grade 8 all the way through high school to Grade 12. I was just too shy to ever say more than just a few nervous words to him in school, and although I don’t live with regrets in my life typically, I do wish I had been a little more forward. I’ll never forget in Grade 8 when I was being bullied by one of the “tough” girls, he came over and used the water fountain that was next to me to check in to see if I was ok, or at least that was my perception anyway. He is still the gorgeous man I always thought he was, just way taller now, and married with kids of course. I was wearing flats last night (I NEVER wear flats usually) although I feel I would have been better off in my ballet toe shoes just to get a little height when talking to him. It was nice to have an actual conversation where that shyness and anxiety was minimized...but interestingly enough, still slightly present. Do I feel badly that I hugged him repeatedly at the end of night to the point where I feel that I was borderline molesting him--absolutely not <enter wicked grin>.

And to prove that finding love exists over forty, one of my close guy friends brought his new love...and she turned out to be just as wonderful as he said. She named me the closet hippie...I’m slowly coming out of that closet though, with all my herbs and essential oils in tow. He is so in love, and it’s so cool to see. It gives me hope that I will find my true love some day, just like the story on the tapestry I brought back from Dover Castle, with a knight, et al. Another one of my classmates just fell in love as well...they looked amazing together and so happy. He told me the old adage that everyone is telling me: it will happen when you least expect it. I would like that please.

It was so much fun getting to know everyone on a more personal level last night and moreover, hearing how diverse our careers and lives are. One of the girls could have been a model--just gorgeous, and she follows her passion of training horses. Another classmate does some very unique cooking along with a plethora of other interests to keep himself busy. I could simply immerse myself in this one person’s hair (it’s gorgeous), and usually do at these reunions--she also shares my birthday of October 1st (crazy Libra). Any absence of male affection is quickly forgotten next to one of my female friends who I just adore. I got to chat with another friend I went to school with from Grade 2 onward who also brought her younger sister that I hadn’t seen since she was a kid, who is now married with her own baby. Another friend and I talked about how nice it would be to see one of our classmates who now lives in Japan, and who posts THE weirdest and most bizarre pictures of insects AND their descript stories that you could ever imagine.

Eventually the night came to a close, and even though I woke up this morning tired, with a storm going on outside, and hardly any voice, I was truly happy to have experienced what I did last night. Time is out to charm you (thanks Axel Rose), if you let it, that is. And that’s exactly what I saw last night...we’re no longer just the athlete, the brain, the criminal, the princess or the basket case, rather, we are simply amazing (and don’t forget good-looking) individuals now. Oh, there’s just one last thing: Packers rule baby.