Meet: Holly Go Frightly!

Warning:  Girl Screams ahead!

I have just realised a dream of mine within the past few weeks.  I've always been the type to discourage myself, and to harbour a defeatist attitude when it came to doing the things that I really wanted to do.  Perhaps it's partially a self esteem issue, partly laziness, I don't know.  The only thing I do know is that it took a teenager from England that I haven't even met in real life to shake me up and tell me, "If you really want to do that, then you can find a way to do it."  This was just the sort of kick in the ass that I needed, and from an unexpected source.

So I did it.

I joined a roller derby team.

*squeal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*  <--girl scream

If you don't know what exactly that entails, it happens to be a lot of this:

And no, I'm not just doing this to have a valid excuse to wear fishnets and a tutu all the time, because my tattoos will fit in better in that type of environment, or even to meet hot lesbians.  It's not just because I want to shop more often at Sock Dreams, though I admit that's good incentive. ;)  Do you know how hard it is to find *my kind of people*?  I know I've found a good many on the internet, but I think I may have actually finally found some in REAL LIFE, and that *maybe* I'm not such a freak after all!  (Though I think I'll always be freaky.  Rawr!)  But seriously, *my* kind of people?

*squeal!!!!!!!*

 

If you could suffer through Drew's insipid lisp to get the gist of what she was trying to say, she actually had it right.  Roller derby is intensely physical, even dangerous!  Those bitches make me feel wimpy!  It's about female empowerment; it's about being accepted for who you are regardless of age, body type, ethnicity, education or socioeconomic background.  You can be a newly separated mother of three with stretch marks and an ass that just won't quit and still be a roller girl!  In fishnets!

*squeal!!!!!!!!!*

So in a week and a half I start my vigorous eleven week training camp.  I have no idea who is going to be watching my kids, or how I'm going to cope with sweating my ass off and still have to commute one hour each way all the while craving a shower like a common wharf doxy, but that's okay.  Those things I will deal with as they come.  The important thing is that I pursued a dream of mine, and I alone am making it a reality.  If I  end up crushing every bone in my body I'll be a happy, broken bitch when I'm in traction.  That's something I can feel good about for the rest of my life.  Now if I could just stop gagging and puking every time my mouth guard is in, I'd be all set...  Pointers?

That's all,

Twills

XOXO

An Exercise in Joyful Meditation

If you're looking for humour or snark, you're not going to find it here right now.  I've been feeling particularly good lately, the sun is shining, I've even been unable to find things to rant about.  I first became interested in this "Joyful Meditation" blog idea because my e-friend Nanea used to write them often on that *other* social networking site that we used to be so *spacey* about.  I don't have anything to link her to, but you can try this, the link to her Etsy Shop.   Go there and buy stuff! 

I've been thinking of doing these "Joyful Meditation" blogs for about a year or two since I first saw Nanea's version way back when, then Megan from Whistling Up the Road reminded me with her recent blog posts.  At this point my joy can not be contained; it must be shared.  Ideally, I would write these at night after reflecting on the day that I've had.  I think that for me, I will try to do them each week for now because I am neither diligent nor consistent in any way.  So you start off by listing five good things about your day/week, three things you have done well, and two things you are looking forward to.   And yeah, it'll probably be Fridays, because everyone knows that that's the real end of the week, that weekends don't count, and Monday is the first day of the week.

5 things that were good:

1.  I'm always amazed that I have such great kids.  They play well together, they're smart, they love good music and not just pop music and shit they hear on the radio, and they always love to eat raw vegetables.  They have manners!  They are filled with compassion and kindness.  Seriously, sometimes I don't know how a snarky bitch like me ended up having such well-behaved children.  (most of the time)

2.  I'm so thankful for my dad.  He goes above and beyond what is expected of a father, even when he's not physically present.  Even when I call him from halfway across the country in tears, he's there for me.  I'm so thankful to have him for my father.

3.  Love.  I have a lot of love in my life right now.

 4.  Naps are just fucking awesome.  I am loving that I get to take a lot of naps because it's summer and I don't have to be anywhere.

5.   I moved house last weekend, which I'm not ready to talk about yet.  But I was thinking that when I'd moved into my previous house six years ago, I couldn't lift the same furniture with nearly as much ease as what I can do now.  31 and stronger than I was at 25?  Hell yeah! 


3 things I did well:

1.  I have a definite lack of booty shorts in my life, but the two that I do own and wear only around the house when it's hotter than hell are now way too big.  This leads me to the conclusion that my ass is shrinking, because of reason two.

2.  I can now ride my bicycle 12K, which is my favourite route, fairly easily.  I need to find a new route soon so I can go further.  But last week?  I clocked in at 60 K total, which makes me feel good.  And stronger. 

3.  I had a birthday recently and I didn't even freak out.

2 things I am looking forward to:

1.  My dad has been at home in Newfoundland on vacation since June.  He'll be coming back next week, and I'm so glad because 1) I miss him; and 2)  I'm so sick of the kids asking when he's going to be coming home.

 

2.  I am looking forward to just enjoying each day as it comes and living more in the moment with no time and no destination, because that's really what makes summer the most fun.  I want the second half of summer to be as great or even greater than the first half was.

That's all,

Twills

XOXO

The Times, They Are A Changing

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Brown Skin

It's around this time of year that I start to really dislike White People.  White People, you suck!  Yes, I am *technically* also a White Person, but I tend to fall on the darker side of white.  Inevitably, in the spring and summer I tend to tan quite well.  I become so dark, that it seems that White People can't contain themselves.  The questions start; the darker I become, the more questions I receive.

"What nationality are you?"

@#$%!!!!!!!!

"If I had a dollar for every time someone has asked me that in my life, I'd have enough money to buy your pasty white ass for my slave, mofo!"

Okay, so no, I don't really get to say that.  But how awesome would it be if I did?  *vows to remember to say that next time*

Not only are White People so audacious as to ask what nationality I am, if I choose to just tell the truth and say that I'm a Canadian, or go further and say that I'm a fucking W.A.S.P., they can't be satisfied.  Said White People can't take that for an answer.  They need to suggest nationalities for me.

"You look like you're East Indian."

"No, she looks like she's Italian."

"I think you could pass for Greek."

"I have a friend from Singapore who looks like you!"

"Are you sure you're not Jewish?"

Ooh, and my own personal favourite, "Are you sure he's your dad with that red hair and freckles?  Was your mother overly fond of the milkman?  Bwahahahaha!!!!"  Yes, because apparently calling my mother a straight up ho who would pass off my questionable paternity onto her unsuspecting husband is sooooo totally hilarious.

Argh!  It's taken me a lot of years to become comfortable in my skin.  A lot longer than it should have taken, as far as I'm concerned, and I work hard to make sure that I stay that way.  I have come to love my "brown skin", and I've almost forgotten the teasing I had to endure when I was younger on account of not being "white enough" for the other white people.  I take pleasure in the idea that I look "ethnic", and that I can travel to many other countries and just blend in with the locals.

I am able now to laugh when people ask me the 'nationality' question, and have great fun telling them lies.  Currently, I'm from Sweden.   If they're going to be so rude as to ask me such a question, then I am not going to feel bad about deceiving them.  

Hej, älskare!

That's all,

Twills

XOXO

An Earth Life

Both kids came home from school yesterday with a flower pot.  Inside was a seed from a scarlet runner bean, and it was in honour of Earth Day.  They watched a movie about the Earth and talked about things they would do on Earth Day in order to help the planet.  Well aren't we twee?!!  One day per year, we get to care about the planet.  Don't even mention to the little kiddies how we should be doing this shyte every day that we are blessed enough to breathe whatever clean air is left on this earth.  Why aren't we drilling this into their heads every single day?  Or better yet, leading by example?

All this week they've been encouraged to send them to school with a "litterless lunch".  Litterless lunch sucks donkey balls!  In our family, we don't watch much tv, we dry our clothes outside in fine weather, we eat nearly everything home made and grow a lot of our own food in the summer.  We voluntarily walk to places we need to get to.  It almost makes me puke every time I go near it, but we have a compost pile as well!  We even have an all-consuming, manic passion for recycling.  If one didn't notice how groomed our armpits are, one could actually accuse us of being "hippies"*.

To me, litterless lunch is a huge smack in the face.  School lunches are about the only things in our house for which we use packaging, or single-sized servings of anything.  Even then, only rarely do we do such things because our kids eat like fiends and need mass quantities.  If I were to load them up with water bottles and storage containers every day for school, they'd need a separate backpack to hold organic carrots alone!  Seriously!  

As it was, all this week their backpacks were so heavy.  I couldn't manage to jam the zippers shut on their lunch bags because their reusable containers take up too much room.  I swear, the middle kid was unbalanced all the way to school in the morning.  I kept having to shove him from behind when we were walking up hills so that he didn't topple over, roll down the hill and land in a sodden heap of sandwiches and orange juice at the bottom.

I've been hearing radio announcements all day suggesting things like, "Hey fat fuckers, today it's Earth Day, so how about you recycle that soda can instead of chucking it into the nearest garbage bin, only to have it stay there for several million years polluting the earth for the children you can't have since you've gone sterile from eating so many TV dinners?".  They may have used slightly nicer language, but the same sentiment is there.

One day, one week, one month or a year even, is not enough.  We should be doing this shit every single day that we are alive.  We owe it to our children and other peoples' children, even if you're like me and don't like other peoples' children.  Heh.  Just kidding.

But not really, because they're bastards.

Our family is not perfect.  Shocking, I know!  We still have a great deal of room to improve.  However, being more environmentally conscious is something that's very important to us.  It should be important to everyone, quite frankly.  I suggest that instead of having an Earth Day, how about we have an Earth Life?  Devote your entire life, change your entire way of thinking and living, and just do little things like walking to the corner store, use cloth shopping bags, eat less meat, buy local produce from farmer's markets or grocery stores, shop once in a while at a thrift or consignment store, or reuse something several times before you recycle it.  The list goes on, but other people are better at it, so here are some links:

50 Green Tips

EPA

Earth Day Canada's Site

Teach your children well.

That's all,

Twills

XOXO

*Twills is aware that there are many hippies that do not have hairy armpits and that stereotypes are wrong, even when they're funny.

I Told Y'all I Was Down

I took my son to his first rock concert last week, as we had bought him tickets for Christmas.  I knew that the tickets were for him, but in reality I really, really did want to go.  It had been so many years since I'd been to a concert that I can not for the life of me remember which one it was, and I actually do really like the band that we went to see.  We go to outdoor music festivals a lot in the summer with our kids, but they're more the kind of thing where you'd see people wearing either tie-dye, mullets, or both.  This was going to be mayjah.

Several things have changed since I last went to one of these shindigs, though.  Well, this concert was geared mainly towards teenage girls and tweens with parents in tow.  When I was a teenager I was more used to the types of venues where they frisk you on the way in for illicit firearms, shanks, drugs and/or alcohol.  They did check my handbag, for which I apologised, mom-like, for it being so messy. 

Some things have not changed.  Teenage girls scream really farking loudly.  They don't wear very many clothes.  They will cut a bitch for the opportunity to rub up on the lead singer when he comes near the crowd.  They almost always dance, and know all the words to all of the songs.  Some of them sweat profusely and smell like armpits when they wave their hands over their heads.  You will leave a concert thinking you've caught the plague from all of the sweaty germs and your ears will buzz for a week.  Or is that just me?

We had floor seats, which I thought would be good because we were fairly close to the stage, but it's not good if you're nine and the teenager in front of you is 6'2".  Note to self:  When buying concert tickets for short people, no floor seats.  I didn't mind Tall Stuff being in front of him so much, because every time a beach ball or a bottle of water (we'll get to this later) hurled towards my baby's face, Tall Stuff would inadvertently act as a cloaking shield for him.  He did take short shifts standing on his chair to see better, because the teenager behind him told him that she didn't mind.  So yes, some teenagers are really nice.  There is hope for the world after all.

Remember how people would wave their lighters around during slow songs?  Well nowadays they tell the kids to take out their cell phones and digital cameras to wave those around.  That, and instead of saying, "Buy our album", they say, "Go home and download our album, burn it from a friend or pirate that mofo because as long as you're listening to our music we're happy".  I'm sure their bank accounts are quite happy, also.

The entire time, I kept thinking back to when I used to attend a lot of concerts when I was a teenager.  How I used to love boys in bands.  Punk bands, mostly.  Remember how your parents would be horrified if you brought home a boy with baggy pants and an earring?  I can just imagine how horrified my father would have been had I brought home boys with flat-ironed hair, skinny jeans and eyeliner.  Jeesh!

Not to mention how the three opening acts had songs about throwing your hands in the air, and waving them as if you just don't care.  Years!  Years, we've been listening to different variations of throwing your hands in the air and waving them like you just don't care.  Is it possible that this phenomena is not entirely played out by now?  Could it have been cool to raise your hands in the air and wave them like you just don't care throughout the eighties, nineties, and today?  Classic, yes; but how great is their sense of entitlement to think that they have the ability to improve on such a classic?  Ah, youth.

I did feel like getting all Mom on their asses, though.  Every time a band member would finish with a guitar pick or drumstick, they'd toss them into the audience.  They'd take a sip out of a water bottle, and toss those into the audience, too.  One sip!  Would it kill them to reduce, reuse, recycle?!!  I swore to myself that if a water bottle was hurling toward my son's head and Tall Stuff didn't end up taking it in the head first, then I was going to sue their asses!  As for us, we paid six bucks for a bottle of water that they then poured into a giant paper cup.  Bottles are life threatening, apparently.  Not to be used without supervision.  If I'd known they were going to give me a paper cup regardless, I would have rode their asses and told them to give me tap.  Mama recycles, yo.  *throws up gang signs*

See how hip I am?  Mama is down.  Recognize.

That's all,

Twills

XOXO

Part Two, which will come to you later:  How I accidentally found myself wanting to rip the clothes off of the incredibly young lead singer and ravage him like a cougar and the only thing that stopped me was The Child.

Willy Wonka: Womanizer

Zen:  Mama your hair so nice.

Twills:  Thank you, baby.

Zen:  Your hair so nice and it's wild.

Twills:  You mean curly?  Because I didn't straighten it today?

Zen:  Yeah, your hair is curly ta-day and it's wild.  Yeah, your hair is wild and you have a fro.

Twills:  Mm-hmm.  *It's not a fro! It is not!*

Zen:  You have hair like Willy Wonka, but not when it's wild.

Twills: Pardon?

Zen:  Willy Wonka hass red hair and your hair black, but you also can have Willy Wonka hair.

Twills:  Do you mean when I have bangs?  Because Willy Wonka has bangs?

Zen:  Yes.  You hass bangs and Willy Wonka hass bangs.

     *Puts hands in hair*

     Mama?  Willy Wonka not have wild fro, Willy Wonka is womanizer.

Twills:  Pardon me? What did you say?

Zen:  Willy Wonka a womanizer.

♪♪♪  Womanizer womanizer oh womanizer oh you a womanizer baby ♪♪♪

Twills:  Zen?  What do you mean about Willy Wonka?

Zen:  Willy Wonka hass red fro and Willy Wonka a womanizer.  He likes ladies.  He likes their boobs.

Twills:  *face|palm*

Zen:  ♪♪♪ You you you are!  You you you are!  Womanizer womanizer you're a womanizer baby! ♪♪♪

Twills:  Oh, far too much Britney.

Zen:  Mama, you put on Womanizer for me please?

     * bats eyelashes *

Here you go, Zen.  Enjoy.