The "Magic" of Chistmas

Don't you wish that you could actually "bottle" the magic of Christmas back from when you were a kid? Back when you were a kid...you didn't have to worry about Christmas shopping, baking, those GD Santa Swaps for under $20 for people you don't give a shit about, Christmas decorating...and worst of all...the entire hang over of Christmas debt. You didn't have to worry about calories, pay attention to what you ate or stress about gaining weight. All you ever had to worry about was your mother actually completing the phone call to Santa to tell him not to bother coming....when you have been saucy or a naughty girl/boy...I still can't believe that I bought that scam year after year...it's the same as when Dad would scream "don't make me stop this car!"... my brother Lloydie, Lori and me would instantly shut up and be scared shitless. But, what would have happened if he stopped the car? Did anybody's parents ever actually stop the car? Would he have left us on the side of the highway? NO...irrationally we would all sit in fear...fear of the car stopping! I digress...back to the threat of the phone call...the simple movement of lifting the receiver of the phone... not touching the dial...stopped me in my tracks...and I am still a naughty girl who is scared shitless of the phone receiver in my Mother's hand!!!

I remember many Chritsmas' staring out of our large picture window...desperately looking up to the sky for the sleigh. I still swear to you that I saw Rudolph's bright red nose leading the other reindeer and Santa's sleigh over my house! Every Christmas Eve my mother cranked up that "Santa Sleigh Tracker" on the radio...somehow the 'sleigh' was almost on the edge of our town right around bedtime...(highly suspicious and perfect timing I'd say!)...but I was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster ride anyway. When I was a kid, time sure moved super-agonizingly-slow on Christmas Eve! I even tried to go to bed one year at 4pm because I just couldn't stand the wait any longer! But...I got out of bed for church and Christmas Dinner with my grandparents....which was awesome. My grandparents made my Christmas complete. Every Christmas Eve before they left for their 'rounds'(cousin Sherry!) we were allowed to select one present and open it. Nanny and Grampy always gave me and Lori the same thing...mine was pink...Lori’s was blue...whatever it was it was awesome!I spent the weeks before Christmas studying the packages and shaking them in order to make the best decision for which gift to open on Christmas Eve! I was a slow learner back then...because we always opened our grandparents’ gift while they were still there...but the following year I started the gift studying all over again.

When we were kids, my sister Lori and I shared a bedroom. One night when I was about 4 years old, I distinctly remember waking up and hearing the sounds of presents being moved around....both of us almost shit our pants with excitement. Being the ballsy girl I am...I decided that Santa would like nothing more than to actually meet me in person...so in my "kitty pyjamas" (those once piece PJ's with feet included and a snap open bum)...I jumped out of bed...and started to make my way to the living room to greet the jolly fellow...but my plans were foiled when my Dad stepped into my path. My Dad is a big man...blocks the light from coming through a doorway kind of big...so if he steps in front of you...you stop. He asked "where do you think you're going?" In my little voice (like Cindy-Loo-Who)...I pulled my thumb out of my mouth... and very authoritatively informed him that I was going to meet Santa. He crossed his arms and shook his head back and forth in a no. He said "are you kidding me? You better get back to bed quickly because Rudolph is on the roof right now!" At that very second...Rudolph (aka my brother Lloyd) scuffed his hoof(boots)...on the roof directly above my head!!(The roof of our house was flat by the way!).If I knew the meaning of OMFG back then I would have screamed it out...but in a 4 year old mode 35+ some years ago...I remember my heart stopping! Now...my memory gets a little blurry after that...somehow...faster than the speed of light...I landed back into my bed from 20 feet away without my feet touching the ground...and against all rational odds I somehow fell asleep until the morning.

Waking up...I remember those butterflies doing cart wheels in my belly...so much excitement simply by opening my eyes! I had that moment where I simply woke up...and then the reality that Santa had been to my house....and a pile of gold was waiting for me just around the corner would set in. I would scream "NORI (Lori=sis)....NORI get up....come on!!!!"...and off we would go...running to the living room! In our house...Santa did not wrap his gifts...the gifts from Santa were staring right back at us as we rounded the corner into the living room. There we stood...taking it all in. My heart skipped a beat...I couldn't breathe....right there in the center-front of the tree stood Wendy Walker...the big and tall doll of my dreams!

Wendy Walker was 32" tall and she had the most beautiful blonde hair with ringlets. She did not actually "walk" at all...her legs moved back and forth from the groin...no knee action...no chance of walking...I think maybe "Walker" was her last name. It didn't matter ...I was only a few inches taller than she was...and I drugged this life-sized, stiff monstrosity around with me everywhere. Thumbelina was going to be so jealous! Do you remember Thumbelina....she was a soft doll...you pulled a string in her back and she wriggled like a real baby? Thumbelina had no need to be jealous...I still miss her the most...I LOVED her! The following year Wendy Walker was discarded to the back of the pile and replaced with Baby Tender Love...like children though...you loved them all...just in a different way than the others! I loved Baby Tender Love so much I actually almost chewed the legs right off of her!(Don't even try to tell me that you did not chew on Baby Tender Love or your Barbie's feet...because I know you would be lying!).I also had Mrs. Beasley...that doll is just plain old scary UGLY...but somehow I managed to fall in love with her too! Mrs. Beasley was a plastic headed old lady wearing a blue and white polka dotted suit from neck to toes...she had thick black framed glasses and when you pulled her string she said loving things like a Grandmother would. I don't remember what she said...but I loved her just the same.

I digress...back to Christmas Day with Nori(Lori). After everything was opened...I would take a breath or two to regain composure and I would re-examine everything...and take in that "new" smell of Christmas presents. I have no recollection what Lori or my brother Lloyd got...I didn't care. They were older and got fewer toys and more clothes...like grown-up things. I also got a can of hot pink "Silly String" that year too! I LOVED that! I can still smell it...my parents must have been some pissed at Santa that year because I made one hell of a mess all over the house with that stuff!

Then, years later...you wake up whenever...and all the gifts are wrapped...and soft...like clothes only. There are no toys at all. No excitement leading up to the days before Christmas...no 'sleigh tracker' on the radio...no need to look out the window. No more ripping through the pages of the Sears Wish Book as soon as it crossed the door step. No more worrying about Santa burning to death in the blazing fire in our fireplace...no more Grandparents. Every year after they died...I would look to the door like a loyal dog....waiting for them to come home...which wasn’t going to happen. Christmas just wasn't the same at all. In fact, it turned out to be a tremendous disappointment...I desperately searched for that "magic" feeling year after year...and I never ever found it. As a grown up...and a nurse...I would sign on to work every year...saying I wanted people with kids to have it off...but in reality I was trying to avoid the disappointment that would inevitably come anyway.

Then, out of the blue...the love of my life jumped into my world with children in tow. On that first Christmas with my step kids (aged 6 and 9)...I didn't see it coming....but that "magic" feeling rushed right back into my heart. I spent the weeks before the event searching for that 'perfect' gift for them...and it was worth every minute for the look on their faces. When the kids opened those gifts it was magical...priceless in fact...you cannot beat a front-toothless grin with the accompanying spitty speech impediment....thankth tho much Nynn(Lynn=me) !!!I'm tho happy!!! Tears of joy flowed freely from them (and me) as they opened the perfect gifts...giving oodles of hugs and kisses...all day! Before the step kids stomped into my life...I had the perfectly manicured Christmas tree with clear lights, crystal ornaments and burgundy bows...but after our first year together...and every year afterwards...I had multicoloured....dysfunctional crooked trees with randomly placed items...perfect! I also got to play "Barbies" and color all day too! I LOVE COLORING!

As it turns out...the magic of Christmas was not lost forever...it was simply 'on hold'...and within me the entire time. Can you imagine my surprise when I discovered how much Santa cursed and swore when he attempted to put the toys together (FYI-the Easter Bunny swears alot too!). I found myself too excited to sleep...waiting for that pile of gold to be discovered that Santa left at my house by the kids. I will admit that it was very challenging answering questions about how Santa was able to find them (the kids) at their mother's house...and at our house. How Santa managed to get into the apartment without a chimney or key...and best of all...the highly scientific answer that I had to conjure up when I blared the radio...and was asked how the "Santa Sleigh Tracker" worked while they desperately searched and stared up into the sky!

"Until one feels the spirit of Christmas, there is no Christmas. All else is outward display - so much tinsel and decorations. For it isn't the holly, it isn't the snow. It isn't the tree not the firelight's glow. It's the warmth that comes to the heart”~Anonymous

Nynn
(aka Lynn)
;)

Death Becomes Her

For those of you who do not know me I am a nurse. I never wanted to be a nurse...ever! Because there was no roll call in university,I decided to be the cribbage champion of the student union building and subsequently failed out of my first year of university! Now, considering that I graduated almost at top of my class in high school with a 94% average...plummeting to the lowest depths of the earth with “academic probation” followed by a “see you later” at the end of the school year was simply unacceptable to my mother...a teacher. FAILURE WAS NOT AN OPTION! So, with fists clenched she ‘nicely’ cornered me one day and said “Navy or nursing”...take your pick”. I started to say “Well, I don’t think that I am interested in either really”... but then she simply (and very sternly) repeated herself...”Navy or nursing...it is not a question of anything else...take your pick.” I thought about peeling potatoes somewhere over the North Atlantic Ocean and with head bowed I quietly answered “nursing”.

My Grandmother was technically the first nurse in our family. She did not graduate from an accredited nursing school...she did not have a cap or black stripe...but she was the epitome of what a nurse is. Nanny assumed the care of every single sick family member in her home until they died. This is where I believe I got my innate nursing capabilities from. When my Dad was a young boy it was ‘just another day’ for the relatives to be taken out the door “feet first”. "Feet first" is the exact translation of French "les pieds devant", which is a metaphorical humorous/slang expression meaning "dead". It is frequently used with "partir" (leave) and there is always an indication of movement, as of a coffin rolling, or lying on a stretcher. So, years before I was even a glimmer in my Father’s eye...death was just as ordinary as lunch...sometimes it even came between lunch and dessert!

The death theme spilled over into my world and continued to be an everyday ‘normal’ occurrence in my life. My earliest childhood memories and bonding moments with my Mother involve regular visits to the funeral parlors and going for walks in the Fernhill cemetery. I absolutely loved the cemetery...I actually remember begging Mom to take me! At the funeral parlor there was plenty of great food, punch, and socializing galore...everyone was glad to see you...it just made sense to me that the first three letters of funeral spelled FUN! I did not have a clue that going to the funeral home or cemetery was not what every kid loved doing. Little did I know... this life-and-death experience (my Grandmother’s huge heart and the unintentional funeral-parlor-etiquette-training)...during my early formative years would come in very handy and would prepare me for my life’s profession!

My current position as nursing supervisor involves being a family advocate at cardiac arrests and traumas. Over the last week, I have dealt with the sudden deaths of a 58 year old, a 59 year old, people with terminal cancer, elderly patients, some newborns and still births and some forever young DOA’s (dead on arrivals) from accidents. During these events, it is my job to seek out the family...keep them updated...hold their hands...offer an official shoulder to cry on...pass the Kleenex...provide unlimited hugs...and introduce the physician to deliver the verdict. I am their ‘ROCK’...and I feel honored to be there for them.

For all intensive purposes...my 'death-training' prepares me to stand strong...remain strong and in control...to be a ‘rock’...but in reality I am a mess! I relentlessly carry the family members with me for days...sometimes my heart feels twisted like a sponge as I think about the mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers whom I have never met. I think of them...imagine what their Christmas will be like...wonder how they are getting through the day...worry for their futures...and their present. I liken myself to be more like a Cherry Blossom than a rock...you know those chocolate treats that resemble a rock? They have a hard chocolate and nutty exterior...but with some persistence and a good bite...a soft and gooey pink center oozes out all over the place? As tough as I would like to appear on the outside...these experiences inevitably result in a break and subsequent explosive flood out in the dam!

A couple of weeks ago, two birds who were flying along and having the time of their lives...crashed into my picture window with a big loud thump!I jumped up to see what was going on...only to catch a glimpse of one bird lifting its head...looking both ways...taking it's last breath and dying right there on my lawn at the base of my window! The other bird was head first in the ground...ass up...and struggling to get back up. My first instinct (and absolute terror) was that I would have to kill it in order to end the suffering and save its helpless body from the jaws of a hungry kitty. I immediately picked up the phone and called my husband at work...I hysterically told his supervisor that it was an emergency...and when he came to the phone...I imagined myself pummeling this helpless bird to death with a shovel...and I LOST IT! I screamed and wailed and cried myself into out-of-control hysteria. Thankfully, my hubby works next door...so he rushed home to remove the dead bird...and in the process...when he helped the ass-up bird get upright...it woke up from its reverie and it flew away! You would think that this would make me feel better right? WRONG! I re-imagined myself pummeling this thing with a shovel to save it’s suffering...and the possibility that I could have murdered a living bird made me even nuttier!!! My husband held me through my out-of-control-heaving-crying spell...and after he went back to work, I ate my way through the rest of the day...wishing to God there were melted cheese vats or tubs of chocolate pudding to dive into...extra melted cheese...deep fried anything. When I get into these ‘states’...there is not enough chocolate in the world that will help me feel better! I had to lie down for a couple of hours to recover...damn that oozing pink center! Damn...a Cherry Blossom would be really really good to eat right now!

I graduated from nursing 20 years ago this week. Over the past two decades I have been privy (and blessed) to be present for the most frightening and/or miraculous moments in the lives of complete strangers. I have been there when people who fear bad news are given good news...and I have been there when people who didn’t see it coming have been delivered a devastating blow. I have seen births, deaths, miraculous recoveries, inexplicable tragedies and sudden deaths. It is during these times that I can't help but to reflect on my life and death training...I have realized that I was born to do this...prepared to guide people by the hand through these painful life moments. Bottom line here...my Mother did not pick nursing...nursing picked me. Nursing has molded me into the person I am today...and for that I am forever grateful for this amazing and blessed life experience!When you're a nurse you know that every day you will touch a life or a life will touch yours. ~Author Unknown

God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled~(Author Unknown).

Lynn Casey RN
;)

The Olympic Torch

This week the Olympic torch came through my town. My hubby and I went to watch it. It was a really cool event. There was a Coca Cola truck before the torch bearer that passed out free Coke, Canadian flags and neon shiny things. There were a couple other official vehicles with the media and torch runners in tow and then the torch runner. Lucky for us, there was a torch pass over right in front of us! I went to snap some amazing photos...and much to my chagrin...my camera was DEAD! I could have screamed! I joked that ‘oh well...at least this memory is ‘burned’ into our brains!

The following day, I happened to go to my home town 90 miles away for a visit, just to see my family and friends for the day. Well, low and behold...didn’t I get stuck in traffic right in the middle of the torch relay? I was surprised and I could not believe I’d get a chance for an actual picture of the darned thing! Well, traffic was stopped...and as soon as the torch bearer came into view a big ass truck drove right in my view. My picture of the torch bearer is a blurred mess of a flame with a truck grill in the way! I admit that I was pissed...but I laughed it off. I realized that I was fortunate enough to see the flame relay twice and that in itself was really cool! The ‘old’ Lynn would have freaked out...she would have went down on the floor kicking and screaming in a full fledged temper tantrum with red faced rage!

When I was a young nurse, I was’ bright eyed and bushy tailed’, ready to take the world by storm. I quickly voiced my opinions and rallied for change. I believed in action, not reaction. I could not understand the resistance that I had met along the way. All I ever wanted was to make our profession better. Unfortunately, I became a scape goat for negativity. I was confused and disappointed. How could I have been perceived as exactly what I have learned to hate? Much to my demise, my passion for change turned into rage and years of frustration.

A couple of years ago, I broke 4 teeth from grinding in them in my sleep. I was not sleeping well and I would cry at the drop of a hat. I reached ‘the point of no return’ and I didn’t have the energy to turn around. I found getting out of bed to go to work challenging. I noticed that I would become anxious days before my shifts. I knew that I was ‘burnt out’. I tried to ignore it. But my body would not allow me too. This burn out spilled over into my personal life. I am normally an outgoing and sociable person, but I began to withdraw and avoid social situations. I knew that I needed to do something. In the past, I would apply for another job and move on. However, I discovered that this ‘band aid’ only lasted for a short time. What on earth was I going to do?

I decided that I could not climb over the brick wall, and banging my head against it was not productive for my career or my health. I chose to take a detour instead of stop at this dead end. I realized that my fight begins with myself. I had to stop being bitter and learn to be better from my experiences. Well, I decided to change my lifestyle, instead of locations. I started to run, eat healthy, and change my attitude. I was judging myself according to what I did, rather than who I am.

Did you know that the Olympic torch has a secondary flame that kicks in if the main flame extinguishes? This is such an important analogy! To be the best person you can be you must guard your inner flame first! Now I am far from perfect! I have fallen off the wagon many times...and I have not been running for a couple of years now. But, every time I fall off...I get back on...fall off...get back on. Exercise always sneaks back into my life...never totally gone. I most definitely eat healthy...with a slip now and then. I set aside special 'me time'...take long baths by candle light, read a book, get my nails done....whatever strikes my fancy. I realized that change begins within. You cannot change the way people think...you can only change how you react to them. I think back to the song we used to sing at Camp Medley: “it only takes a spark to get a fire going...and soon all those around...will warm up to it’s glowing.” When times are tough...dig down and spark up that inner flame.


“Success is not the result of spontaneous combustion. You must first set yourself on fire.” Fred Shero quotes

Lynn
;)

Color outside the lines

When I was 3 years old, my brother and sister decided to give me my first swimming lesson while camping at Sebago Lake in Maine. I was being a sweet, well behaved and charming little girl...just ‘lightly’ pushing my brother and sister off of the wharf into the water. After a few unplanned ‘falls’ into the water...they conspired against me...and threw me in the water! I had no idea that I was a born swimmer...I came up under the wharf...and very quietly floated under there...allowing mass hysteria to set in with a smirk on my face. When I finally surfaced from the depths...I am pretty sure I got the beating of a lifetime for the scare. BUT, it was well worth it! Of course, my brother and sister got in major trouble for ‘picking on the baby!’

Back in those days, we had one of those trailers built onto the back of a pick up truck...where us kids were ‘allowed’ to stay in the back during the drive and lay on the bunk over the cab of the truck,looking out the window.(It truly is remarkable that we survived those days...no seat belts, no helmets, no alcohol wipes!). As we crossed the US- Canada border...the border guard insisted on searching the trailer. The border guards basically tore everything apart...bunks, pots and pans, suit cases...but got quite a surprise when they ‘inspected’ the tea pot. My brother and sister tell me I had some ‘bowel issues’ back then. I guess I sometimes waited a week or more before ‘going’. Well,unfortunately for the border guards the ‘week of waiting’ was up and I had taken a great big dump in the tea pot! I not only filled it...I had replaced the top on the pot when I was done to let it ‘steep’ to perfection!

I digress. My sister Lori and I went to swimming lessons a couple times a week for many years. I really did not need lessons of any sort...it was more of a badge gathering affair. We were separated from the main group often and one day the instructor took our picture holding a badge. Now, don’t ask me why...but I thought this meant that I was ‘special’...in a short bus kind of way. Since nobody really explained why we were separated from the main group, I thought it was because we were inadequate...or too slow...failures...when in fact...we were super-duper advanced for our ages. Our pictures were taken for being extraordinary swimmers. Thank goodness this contorted idea of mine did not alter my love for swimming. I LOVE swimming…anywhere…anytime. My mother and I actually swam across Bellisle Bay years ago…I would swim the ocean if I knew for sure something wouldn’t bite my bum or sting me!

I was also a Loch Lomond majorette...baton twirler girl. I LOVED baton twirling! Especially the high rubber boots with the pom-poms on them, the sparkly body suit and that funky ‘majorette’ hat to match! Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better...they asked me to carry the banner for the Santa Clause parade! I near shit my pants! Put me right in the front where I belong people...good choice...excuse me...could you step back while I step right in front of you...where I belong...in front of you! I was the baton twirler girl of the universe! Can you imagine my surprise when weeks later I bombed in a competition? I was shocked...and horrible at baton twirling...I ended up at rock bottom last! It was devastating...I quit altogether in fact. Many years later...it hit me like a ton of bricks...out of nowhere...I had to pull over the car...I realized that I was asked to hold the banner in the Santa parade because I was a danger to myself and others with a baton in my hands! OMG! How odd is it that I thought I was a super star when I wasn’t...and thought I wasn’t a super star when I was?

Thank God I did not have a clue back then...as this could have changed the entire course of my life! For whatever reason...maybe a child-like abandon and sense of adventure...I continued to sign on and enlist myself for every opportunity possible. I played trombone and bass guitar in a jazz band for many years, tried out for(and NEVER made)a single sports team year after year (damn you Mr. Porter!.Every year I went back...tried again...never made the list. I figured there was something wrong with the coach...never ever once considered that I was the shits at sports! I did manage to become the high school curling skip though(it may have been lack of turn out at the try outs but I refuse to believe that!)Drama, student council, sang crazy songs each morning for the high school announcements (everybody thought I was CRAZY!), I got hammered at Jim Morrison’s grave in Paris...you name it...I tried it...at least once.

Years ago, I got on some exhibition rides with my step daughter. We both laughed like fools! For those few crazy minutes during each ride...for a brief moment in time...I jumped right back to 1982...when I was on the rides with my best friend Barbara...I felt like I was 14 all over again! A couple years ago, Barbara and I reunited after 18 years and we participated in the Bell City Chase in Ottawa to commemorate it. It’s like the Amazing Race and we came in 120 out of 300...it was exhilarating and we felt like kids again! We didn’t care about winning...we simply signed on to have a fun day! Last year, I signed on to do TreeGo (an obstacle course made of ropes and logs high up the trees). I was scared shitless...but at the same time I felt like a kid again! I get the same thrill when I go a million miles an hour down a ski hill every winter...and this year I discovered the ‘high’ of golf! I am not very good at it...I am simply having a blast...and that is all that matters!

My message here is simple...DON’T DRINK TEA AT MY HOUSE!!! No seriously...embrace your child-like abandon and do something absolutely crazy and fun...something you have always wanted to do. Sign on for an adventure...stop being so serious all the time...and most importantly do not fear failure...embrace adventure! When you cross something off of your list...put something new right back on it. Step outside ‘your box’ and color outside the lines! It is absolutely exhilarating! Now I have to go and find a roller derby rink, belly dancing class, and a Burlesque dancing troop!

Man does not cease to play because he grows old, he grows old because he ceases to play.-- Drew Lachey

Lynn
;)

Freedom is Never Free...

I joined the SYEP (Student Youth Employment Program) for the naval reserve shortly after high school graduation. I originally joined for the good money...but quickly learned that I was in for the time of my life! Where else can you learn some valuable life skills such as shooting a rifles, sub machine guns and 9mm pistols (they called me RAMBETTE at the shooting range), run through military obstacle courses and what to do in the tear gas hut, sailing and man-over-board exercises, fire fighting and disaster training, chef level cooking courses and best of all...how to party with an amazing gang of your peers from all across the country? After the initial summer of training, we continued to meet once weekly down at ‘Brunswicker’ for weekly GMT (general military training). This involved learning the ‘ropes’ of being a good little sailor….tying knots, seamanship, marching, saluting, and so on. Before being deployed the following summer, we had to choose a trade. I chose to be a cook because cooks do not have to do ‘watch’ or quarter deck duty due to irregular and early shifts.

The ‘real’ military training began during my first work assignment the following summer. I was stationed in Halifax Nova Scotia, and I spent the summer living on a decommissioned ship named The St.Croix...we called her (ships are referred to as she’s)‘The CROTCH’ for short. Imagine 200+ co-ed peers living on a close-quartered ship with tax free liquor and smokes! Liquor shots were 25 cents a piece and cigarettes were a buck a pack! There was some more brutal GMT training before our cooking course started...so the gang of cooks to be...from all across the country bonded for life during the psychotic and strenuous training schedule that took place. For the next 6 weeks, our lives basically consisted of running a mile before breakfast, military training classes, marching and doing gun drills on a 106-degree-in-the-shade parade square, fire fighting and disaster training, home work, ironing our uniforms, spit shining our boots until we could see our own reflection, hit the rack (bed) and then up and at it all over again. On the week ends we partied as hard as we worked all week...and became life long friends throughout the entire ordeal. That summer, I had a really bad perm...so I was originally dubbed “fire hazard hair” and then that nickname quickly turned into “wild woman” as the summer progressed and people got to know me a little better.

Back in those good old days, the girls dressed to the nines to go out. I frequently wore my skin tight A-line denim skirt, high heels, a sassy top and neon 1980’s eye shadow with big-ass jewelry and highly teased hair to boot! Let me just tell you now…those ships were not designed for high heels and tight skirts! One night, I was so hammered all I could do was crawl up the gang plank to get home to ‘The CROTCH’. There were two extremely French sailors from Chicoutimi Quebec working quarter deck duty that night. Quarter deck duty involves guarding the entryway to the ship and checking everyone’s ID to get on the ship. As I started to go down the hatch (the opening to go into the ship which is a 10 foot ladder down or up depending on which way you are going)...my high heel caught on the entryway lip and I proceeded to go ass-over-tea-kettle out of control down the ladder. Over the course of my ‘fall from grace’, my skin tight denim skirt ripped from the hem to the waist line. I landed in a heap at the bottom of the ladder with my legs spread wide open up in the air (picture a turkey waiting to be stuffed!). The two French fellows on quarter deck duty ran to my aide...stopped at the top of the hatch, pointed and laughed their guts out! In very broken English one of them said …“Guarde ca Jacque (look Jack)…there is a snatch in the hatch!” I some how managed to contort my way out of my ‘predicament’ and get to my ‘rack’ (bunk). Needless to say...I did not have to pay for my drinks for the rest of the summer...the French boys always took care of that to ensure that I was always good and drunk! That same night, we had a fire drill on The Crotch. I almost slept right through it. For those of you who have never been on a navy frigate…it is impossible to sleep through the wailing noise! The gals in my quarters decided to paint up my face before shaking me awake to get the hell out of there and get into formation. There I stood...dock side...straight as an arrow with my comrades...with all kinds of obscene images on my poor drunken face! We all had a great laugh from that one...especially when I was scrubbing the toilets with my tooth brush for the next week because I would not (could not) give up who did the offensive and phallic artwork.

Each year, our big group would reunite and start exactly where we left off...care free...and have more fun than humans should be allowed. I would go to work in the Galley (kitchen) all day...and then nap...go out all night...get about 3 hours sleep and start the day all over again. I took great joy in traumatizing the little sea cadets on the food line...especially on chicken day! I would place one hand on my chest and another on my thigh in a suggestive manner and then I would ask those poor prepubescent boys in a 1-900-number-esque sex kitten voice...would you prefer a BREAST or a THIGH while holding up a piece of chicken in the tongs! They would immediately avert their eyes to the ground...turn beat red...gulp...and whisper “just fries lady...only fries”!!!! Every Saturday the gang met down at Peddler’s Pub around noon and sang at the top of our lungs with the “Swell Guys” band until we were hoarse...and then we would continue to party until the clubs closed down...or we got kicked out...whichever came first! One night I almost got arrested for peeing in a public place. I hoisted my dress and squatted at the base of a tree in the park at the base of the liquor dome. Somebody tapped my shoulder…and I slurred “HOLD ON A MINUTE…CAN'T A WOMAN TAKE A PEE IN PEACE FOR GOODNESS SAKES?” It turned out to be a police officer...who took pity on my soul and let me off with a warning. Of course it is documented on film somewhere...my ship mates took great joy in collecting “Lynn peeing in public places” footage...thank goodness “You Tube” did not exist back then! I had a ridiculously amazing time during my service in the reserves. I learned so much...and made some amazing life long friends. We used to joke with the REG’s (full time regular force) that their job was our hobby!

It was all fun and games until my first Remembrance Day parade when the Navy got their regular blues back. Before then, we were all decked out in general army green colored gear. The first Remembrance Day parade in the old Navy blues, really set off a crying spell amongst the veterans. They were beside themselves with pride that we were marching by in the old Navy blues. As we marched by, many of the veterans were crying and saluted us! I was so embarrassed...here I was having the time of my life...never to see serious action of any kind...drinking and partying until I could not walk...saluting the tax free liquor and smokes...only to be saluted by veterans who had seen the real deal...who had lived through the nightmares of conflict and war. On this particular Remembrance Day, the troops lined up in every direction of the King Square Union Jack pathways. We had to stand straight at attention throughout the Remembrance Day service. In my direct sight…there stood four mentally retarded brothers and sisters from a well-known local family. During the moment of silence...they were smiling with glee as the leaves let loose from the trees and slowly fluttered to the ground...their faces towards the sun...happy to be alive...unaware of the sad tribute that surrounded them. I could not help but cry...to be reminded of the simple pleasures of life in the smiles of the four siblings with Down’s syndrome...to be reminded of how much we take our lives for granted...and freedom. From that day on...I thought about those veterans in everything I did for the remainder of my military career. Before that fateful day, I never once considered that I was training in the event that reserve troops may be needed or called upon to fight for our country. Mind you I still had wild and crazy bouts of fun from time to time...but their sacrifices remained in my heart in every task that I took on from that Remembrance Day forward. Now, years later, I often think of the sacrifices of our current troops fighting for the safety of our nation on a regular basis. “It is easy to take liberty for granted, when you have never had it taken from you” (Dick Cheney). I think about the hell of what our troops live and see ... of being away from their families for our freedom to be with ours...they are the real deal...and I am forever grateful...our freedom is never free...every day should be Remembrance Day

Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it. ~William Arthur Ward


Lynn
;)

The Ticker Tape In My Head

Do things that annoy you happen more when you are annoyed...or are you just so annoyed that anything that normally annoys you annoys you more? You know, those days where you wake up late...stub your toe...can’t find your keys...drop everything you touch...get paper cuts...have no coffee filters to make the much needed coffee...then get lemon juice or alcohol or something painful in the paper cuts...then stub your toe again...break a finger nail...poke the mascara wand into your eye...deal with the black smear across your face now that has ruined your make up...lose the dry cleaning ticket stub to claim your clothes...of course add in a really bad hair day...get stabbed in the armpit with the under wire from your bra...all the while screaming blue bloody murder expletives’ to nobody into the air?

I learned the hard way that should stay at home when I am in a super pissy state because a couple of weeks ago, I made the brutal mistake of going out while in a really bad mood...and I paid for it dearly! I had the displeasure of ‘bumping into’ an acquaintance at the mall that annoys the hell out of me...because she is a QUIET TALKER! You know, those people who speak in a low mumble-esque whisper all the time and you cannot figure out what the hell they are saying...even if you did want to hear what they are saying...which I did not want to hear! To make matters worse...she goes on-and-on-and-on-and-on-and-on about absolutely nothing…meaningless dribble...a total waste of oxygen! Whatever bits and pieces you can piece together are negative...very negative comments and vibes and empty complaints...non-stop-negative-verbal-vomit! I’d rather listen to her recite her grocery list than whatever the hell she is bitch-whispering on about. Before I plan some sort of desperate escape plan, I try to interject several times to no avail. To confirm her lunacy, I decide to go with the “SO ANYWAY” test. This is where you say something absolutely absurd to see if they are even listening to you...I said “I actually used to be a man...but my penis was blown off in an unfortunate accident”...the abrasive mumbler pauses for a brief second...there is a slight glimmer of hope that she may have heard what I said...but nope...she doesn’t skip a beat and says “SO ANYWAY!” and continues on with her miserable mumble-jumbo ramblings. This is my sign to do something (anything) to escape this madness...I know now that she has failed the SO ANYWAY test that she will not even recall that I was ever here or rude or terrorized by her...I want to scream...”SO ANYWAY” and run for my life!


It is in these painful times that I am ever so grateful that nobody can read the ticker tape in my head!On she goes...babbling incessantly...whisper-mumbling at me...whatever (yawn)...no need for my input( or presence for all that matters) at all...so on-and-on-and-on and-on…goes the ticker tape inside my head...”Aw Jesus...why did I have to go out of the house today? Will you please make her shut up? What are the shit-chances of me and her colliding at this mall full of people at the same time? SHUT UP LADY!!!! Why me GOD? Does she even take a breath? Why can’t she just shut the hell up? Can the floor just open up and suck her in...nobody would even hear her scream...as I am sure it is a whisper too!" I wonder if she hears elevator music in her head...or the classic on-hold tunes...or maybe even Circus music when nobody is around? With her mindless jabber she could not possibly form real thoughts or dreams? I imagine her actually being sucked into the floor...and a tiny little smile crosses my face...which unfortunately encourages the quiet talker to keep on babbling faster! I discover she is babbling on about how amazing she is at something...which leads to my second wave of nausea...as I find people who incessantly pat their own backs make me very uncomfortable...I find it disturbing...and now I am really feeling punished just for being alive at this point. My ticker tape keeps screaming...“I need to escape!! Please Jesus...Should I feign an illness...chest pain? Please get me away from this babbling fool! Where is a good flood, earthquake or natural disaster when you need one? Please make her F#$% off and die...OK?” Without any conscious thought, I just started walking away from her...to which she replied, “Coffee! What an amazing idea…let’s go!” I will also add at this point she said this very loud and clear. I was feeling desperate...panic-stricken...like I was in jail on my way to the electric chair...except going to the electric chair was a much better option than spending one more miserable minute with her...and suddenly my cell phone rings...Yahoo!...Thank you!” Somebody should invent an application so you can 'will' your cell phone to ring on command....by mental telepathy. I politely raise a finger...which in my world is the universal sign to shut the hell up while I answer the phone...for mumblkins to take a freaking breath...but she doesn’t...bla, bla, bla...by this point all I can hear is the Charlie Brown teacher’s incoherent babbling...I must have a look on my face at this point...I feel like my nose is crunched up like something smells rancid...the look on my face should covey that a huge rusty nail has been impaled into my brain. I know my head is beat red as I an UGLY now...this look should have exuded a “please F@#$$ off and leave me the hell alone...forever!". But,the mumbles-from-hell is in her own world...does not need any input from anyone whatsoever...just an involuntary voyeur to her meaningless dribble...she may as well blabber to a coat rack. My ticker tape goes on to say... “Listen...I just don’t like listening to you babble on-and-on-and-on-and-on-and-on about yourself...you mumble so low I cannot hear you anyway...but if I could hear you...I wouldn't want to... you negative miserable sow...in fact, I find you very toxic...but what I do hear is negative or self appreciative and quite honestly very embarrassing and uncomfortable for me...so I am going to go...and I do not want you to follow me...I want you to pretend you have never met me for the rest of your life...OK?”

I answer the phone “HELLO?!” Thank God it is my husband...he automatically knows my distress tone...so he will understand when I inappropriately speak to him...he says “what’s going on?” I sweetly answer “Oh, I am just at the mall chatting with ---- (insert mumbles name here) ----...he automatically knows by the name that I am in hell...so I continue on, “What? I can’t believe I forgot all about that! What time is he coming? Oh my goodness...how long are you home for? Oh my goodness...I better get my ass home right now...can you call him back and say I will be a little late? NO? Shit! Well...I better get going right now!” and I hang up. I look at the mumbles...and point at my watch and say “SO ANYWAY... I was almost late for that...I got to run!” and I run away from her as fast as possible...without looking back.


“If life gives you a bowl of lemons, go find an annoying guy with paper cuts”-anonymous

Lynn
;)

"Oprah-itis" and the Vision Board

Did you ever notice that life is like a country music song? If you have a heart break or life crisis of some sort... the lyrics of every song you hear seems to have been written just for your own predicament? I am not sure if this phenomenon actually has a name....but in my case...instead of a country song... it is "Oprah-itis". I have been watching The Oprah Show ever since the very beginning in the 80's...WAY back when her hair and jewelry was HUGE...she wore obnoxiously bright neon 80's colors...and people could actually call in to the show to voice their opinions. Oprah always seemed to know what I needed to hear...and just in the nick of time. For example...one time when I was going through a life-altering-career- crushing crisis...I was miserable...and bitter...rage was eating me alive....and out of the blue...on my worst day ever...Oprah looked right at me and said "the disappointments in life are to make you better....not bitter (Oscar Wilde)". I shit you not...she looked directly through the camera ...pointed her finger at me and said this life altering statement to me. Then she went on to say that "resentment is like drinking the poison and expecting someone else to die from it." From that day forward I have stood taller and carried the mantra of "better not bitter" with me everywhere I go...saying it whenever I get ugly about something or someone. Fortunately, I did not know then that this crisis was the best thing that ever happened to me...as I had some life lessons to learn...but looking back on it now....I am so grateful I got screwed...otherwise I would currently be really screwed! As they say...everything happens for a reason...thank God! This quote of Oscar Wilde's...as quoted by Oprah... knocked me right off the pity party train...and although I was totally alone at the time...I said "Thanks O!" ...out loud.

Another day on Oprah, she featured how (and why) you should create a vision board for your life. A vision board is a poster/cork board on which you paste or collage images that you’ve torn out from various magazines in order to surround yourself with images of who you want to become, what you want to have, where you want to live, or where you want to vacation, and your life changes to match those images and those desires. The show featured celebrities and regular folk...explaining why their vision boards had what they had on them...and in the end...their visions (and dreams) eventually started to materialize. So, with the intent to make things happen...I have finally finished my vision board. I have had pictures cut out for this board for a long time...sitting in a Superstore bag on the floor...under my desk...not very easy too visualize the dreams I've selected for sure! So, I bought a big-ass cork board....some clear tacks...and I got rocking at it!

The good news is I am a big dreamer. The bad news is I am a big dreamer. Dreaming is good....but until you have focus to actually implement a plan....all you have is dreams....nothing tangible. I have a million ideas....and tons of stuff I want to do...so my head is always abuzz with activity....leaving me little to no time to focus or act upon these ideas...I think about the next ideas while trying to work on the current idea. (Have I confused you yet?) I want to write and publish a book. I want to deliver motivational seminars for women...I want to develop physical assessment seminars and mentor new nurses...I want to connect more with my girlfriends. I want to laugh more and worry less...I want to travel with my hubby more...and of course...the ultimate dream/reality... I will be on The Oprah Show! With those ideas in mind...I gathered my huge stack of magazines and started clipping away...with tunes blaring and wee sips of wine....and kaboom....out it came....my big-ass temporary cork-board masterpiece! It is a dynamic and fluid masterpiece...meaning it will change as ideas or pictures that strike my fancy arise. Thanks O!

Another inspirational day to get my board started surfaced day a couple of weeks ago. I was riddled with self doubt...disappointed that I was suffering from writers block...not getting stuff done that I needed to get done...making excuses...not writing as I had planned to...day dreaming too much...not getting where I need to go...and then I suddenly dropped something on the floor. As I bent over to pick it up...there was Oprah on the cover of her O magazine...smiling up at me...and the headline screamed at me "YOU'RE STRONGER THAN YOU KNOW!" Then, from there...I grabbed some more O Magazines and started snipping pictures and phrases....starting with the "YOU'RE STRONGER THAN YOU KNOW!" caption of course! Once again...I snapped out of my pity party frenzy and simply said "Thanks again Big-O!" (Obviously my idea of a BIG-O is different than most!)

My vision board started with a million dollar bill in the center. Years ago a girl friend gave me the million dollar bill in a money card for a birthday present. I am so glad that I kept it tucked away in my panty drawer all these years...because this simple item was the inspiration to get this whole vision board a rolling! I added tropical beach pictures and sea scapes with me and my baby walking the water lines...statements that say "Beach Within Reach"..."Paradise"..."Escape Completely"..."World Cruise"...and my favorite "Live Vicariously Through No One." I also added some sassy and confident bathing-suit-clad babes...and physically fit chicks climbing rocks, biking, swimming, golfing (sounds like a tampon commercial I know...but no white pants or horses for me thanks!). To remain focused to reach my weight loss goals for our cruise in January...I also added captions that read..."Live healthy"..."Get Fit"...and "There is no better time to be focused on you!". With all this in mind I also added some pictures of healthy foods...beautiful dream home decor pictures, my own private jet and one of my favorites is the image of the world in my hands!

Of course, my vision board had to have images of Oprah on it. Some of the most pertinent and important messages jumped at me right from the O magazine pages (no surprise I know)..."Live your best life"..."LIVE. RIGHT. NOW." I plan to be on her show...laugh hysterically and chit chat about my book...go out to dinner with her....I will give her an autographed copy of my book...some Canadian Maple Syrup....those cheesy Moose Poop chocolate candy gift bags found at the airport gift shops(a pun on Canadian-a)...she will laugh....and slap her knee...she will ask me "where have you been all my life?" and we will both crack up like fools! Oprah and I are going to have so much fun...just chillax and laugh like girl friends do...she will open my book to her favorite pages that have been marked with tiny 'Post It' stickers...she'll ask me to read some bits...she will glue the first Oprah's book club sticker on my book...I'll make Stedman blush while he cooks us dinner...Oprah will pee hysterically with laughter...we'll eat some awesome cheese and chocolate dipped strawberries.. and sip on our wine...we'll drink until we fall down laughing some more...exchange e mail addresses...send each other Christmas cards...you know how it will all go...and so do I now that my board is a reality.

I was so excited to step back and assess the vision board when it all came together. It is amazing what happens when you let your heart do the talking...I cut out random pictures and statements as they caught my attention...and in my humble opinion...my life blue print...is better than Picasso...to me that is...and only me. Thanks O!

“A vision is not just a picture of what could be; it is an appeal to our better selves, a call to become something more.”-Rosabeth Moss Kanter quotes

Lynn
;)