Food for thought..

"It occurs to me it is not so much the aim of the devil to lure me with evil as it is to preoccupy me with the meaningless." 

- Donald Miller

Noisy Neighbours

My neighbours are building an ark.  At least I think it's an ark.  I assume this because of the ominous looking storm clouds lingering to the west, and the fact that I haven't heard from God in at least a week.  At least somebody is having luck communicating with him.  He won't return my calls.

They've been hammering away since 6 AM this morning, and from my point of view they are constructing something to the effect of a large wooden box.  Probably one of those assembly-required kits.  Plywood is everywhere.  Other possibilities once this project comes to fruition: time machine, boat shed, indoor swimming pool or Clifford's dog house.

After a kind of reflective day, I am nostalgically collaborating a mental list of things I would tell the 16-year old version of myself.  Of the meek amount of wisdom I have required thus far in my life (it's no more than a handful of ideas, I assure you) I will settle on the following main points. I also like to make lists.

Things I would tell the 16-year-old version of myself:

1.  Don't ever smoke that first cigarette.  You have an extremely addictive personality, and this means that you are destined to become a repeat offender.  You will also encounter problems with the following: bad boys, scratch and wins, online shopping and unrealistic happy endings.

Try to avoid members of the previous list at all costs.

2. Wear sunscreen.  Wrinkles at 26? You better believe it, babe.

3.  Stick to yer guns, lil lady.  Allow me to expand on this (there is nothing I hate more than a cliche... that, and organized activity).   When faced with any decision - no matter how trivial - always make sure that you are making that decision based on best interests, not based on hidden agendas.  Be honest.

4.  Quit the menial jobs without hesitation.  Hey, I ain't no quitter.  But when I think about all of the birthdays, family dinners and vacations I was forced to forgo in lieu of working long, unrealistic hours, slingin' drinks, serving overdone calamari, and deal with an angry Greek boss who reamed me out in public for not punching in a diet coke refill? Not worth it.  Not to mention the state of my feet after a Saturday night shift on the patio.  I'm all for making my money and working hard for it, but make sure to give yourself a line.  Don't compromise yourself.

5. Life is so much bigger than this moment.  Quit sweating the small stuff.  That's gay.

6.  SELL YOUR BEANIE BABIES WHILE THEY ARE STILL WORTH MONEY.  Sorry for yelling.  Just want to make sure you understand the brevity of this situation.

7.  Never kiss on the first date. No exceptions to this rule.  

8.  Don't quit running and/or track.  Dad says you could have made it to the Olympics.  I know we said we hate organized activity, (see number 3) but at least you could have tried for a scholarship. (Hellllo, UND!)

9. Get your Ag degree.  Thirty-year-old men you went to college with are making $12 an hour in the control room at CTV. Enough said.

10.  The pop-punk nightmare phase will be very brief.  PLEASE, for the love of all things good and holy in this world, resist the urge to shop for clothes at MCC and flat iron your hair because you want to look like Avril Lavigne.  Just. Say. No.  Looking back, the baby phat phase wasn't anything to write home about either... 

Airports.

Airports. We have a love/hate relationship.  I love road trips, don't read me wrong.  I have a extended cab that I can easily pack to the brim, even for a weekend away. Enjoying freshly burnt CD mixes, tearing down the highway, frequent stops for delicious treats - all good.  But time on the road leads to a mass consumption of Doritos (I for sure have a problem), and the occasional bout of chain-smoking.  And I get bored real fast.

I live 1500 kms away from home, and the people I adore most in this world are scattered across North America.  This means I have been a frequent flyer since I was in high school.  The problem begins with  my inability to pack lightly.  Even a long weekend has me packing like I'm traveling internationally.  I have great intentions.  But when I land in Winnipeg for a 3-day weekend, I stumble to the baggage claim (cue Miranda!) heavily laden with carry-ons, waiting for my scruffy American tourister luggage (I use the term loosely; she looks more like the former shell of an abused animal) so I can wear one of the 18 outfits I packed for the weekend at home.  My mom says I'll grow out of it.  I tell her to fly more often.

I love flying because it cuts down on massive travel time and allows me to reunite with my loved ones  much sooner.  My claustrophobia prohibits me from fully falling in love with air travel, but the perks are enough to keep me heavily distracted.  

My Favourite Things! (about airports)

1. I don't know anybody!  The possibilities are endless.  Nobody is judging me as I pour through US Weekly and hang off every drippy little detail of this season's Bachelorette.  Emily did what? Oh my word..  

2.  I become so ambitious.  I'm an independent woman of the world! I take a break from my day job, I swipe on some bronzer and pucker me some lipstick in the mirror in the bathroom and walk around like I own the place. Oh, pardon me, sir. I'm completely in your way. Nice to meet you, too! My name is Celeste, I'm  a managing editor for Garden & Gun magazine.  I'm here on business.

3. Airport bars and airport drinking. I have a 2 hour layover, and my gate is directly across from Chili's.

4. Meeting new friends.  I've been extremely lucky in this department.  More often than not, I end up beside some random person who is absolutely delightful and we enjoy sparkling conversation from tarmac to tarmac.  Now I have a new penpal (hopefully American!), and I didn't even have to open the book in my bag and dog-ear my pages and pretend to read.  Today I met a charming lady from Texas who showed me photos of all of her horses, and her dogs, and invited me to come and visit her on her ranch in Dallas!  I imagine it's much like the reboot of the TV show, with a million more Jesse Metcalfes. Yes please.

5.  Suddenly I am overcome with a feeling of extreme wealth.  Suddenly $7 magazines and $12 coffees are justifiable!  What gives?  I am experiencing an overwhelming desire to purchase every kitschy item in this overpriced store!  A polyester t-shirt featuring a stenciled horse profile, with DENVER in rainbow cursive writing underneath? I MUST HAVE IT.  And it's only $58? Practically a steal, not to mention a wardrobe staple.

6. I have many more but my flight is about to leave.  Did I mention there's a Chili's?

Facebook Etiquette

I come from a conservative family (go figure), where manners were instilled (beaten) into my upbringing from a very young age.  Granted, social media wasn't even invented when I was growing up - but I can't help but feeling that the fundamentals should apply for any forum.

5.  Ultrasound/Sonogram Pics on FB
Hi, new mom? I'm super duper excited that you are having a baby (and so are your other 862 friends online), but do you seriously want your ex-boyfriend, your old high school math teacher, and that new secretary from work looking at pics of your uterus?? Shouldn't some things be left for the fridge? He's jealous and feeling left out. 

4. Inside Jokes
I don't even need to expand on this one.. (right Amanda?? PS, bunnies on the ceiling! LOL!!)

3. Dark and Ominous/Incredibly Vague Status Updates
People who post the most vague status updates, just begging for people to ask questions.

Jenny's status update: OMG worst day ever! I am so upset! This is the worst! I can't believe this is all happening to me!

My personal favourite is, "I'm just so over it." OVER WHAT? Get a diary you pansy.

2.  Using "bestfriend" as one word.
If you can read this, do the world a favor and grab a dictionary.  Go hunting under "B" (hint: it's right after "A").... IT'S TWO WORDS.  Let's expand this exercise and try it in other contexts.  Oldfriends. Newfriends. Facebookfriends.  It doesn't work.

1.  Spoiler Alert Updates.
The Vampire Diaries season finale ended 45 seconds ago.  It's PVR'd and I haven't even gotten through the opening credits.  One accidental glance at my news feed and I find out Elena becomes a vamp at the end.  This applies to movies/championship games as well.  That means you, NHL playoffs.

Home of the free - Land of the brave

I watch CNN while I do cardio at the gym. Their lefty views fuel my pulse, contributing to calorie burn.

Whether you are a Democrat, Republican, (or a Canadian who wishes she had a green card) you cannot disagree with very heartfelt words from Senator John McCain regarding America's potential to strike against Syria.  Watch by clicking on the following link:

SEN. JOHN MCCAIN TALKS TO ANDERSON COOPER ON ASSAD TAKEDOWN

Don't get me started

The milk game. 

Living in a 900-sq-ft house with seven people is enough to drive anybody nutty, and the waxy icing on this store-bought discount cake that is my life, is the many idiosyncrasies that lead to me reaffirm my belief in sterilization. (Male and female - laziness doesn't discriminate).  I am lucky enough to be a Manitoba farm girl, which means that even when faced with a less-than-ideal circumstance, I choose to look on the bright side and make the best of things.  I'm fine, really. I can haul the garbage to the dump, take out the recycling, clean the shitty toilet, change my own shorting-out taillights, etc.  All I ask of you, darling roommates, is to extend a little consideration toward your fellow man. (I realize I lost this battle with the cleaning of the shitty toilet). Now the milk game definitely includes, but is not limited to, milk.

The milk jug sits on the top shelf of the fridge and the increments by which it is consumed, haunt me. Basic rule of humanity: you finish it, you replace it.  This fundamental rule extends to other household items such as coffee beans, toilet paper, and dishwasher detergent.  In this house, we play dirty and down to the wire. If I enjoy a bowl of cereal on Tuesday morning using a new jug of milk, you can bet by Tuesday night, the boys that I babysit live with have consumed all but (ballpark) an inch of milk left in the jug. By Wednesday morning, the levels have sunk to a mere half inch.  I am taken aback. How? Who consumes half an inch worth of milk?  Who is desperate enough to exhaust mere drops, but yet so lazy as to deposit the dregs back into the fridge for fear of having to replace the 4L jug?  And so, on Wednesday night when I come home from work and want breakfast for dinner, I'm the fool who has to replenish the rations because the quarter-inch puddle left in the plastic jug won't suffice for making pancakes.  After I use my extremely humble cup of milk for my extremely humble batch of pancakes on Wednesday night, I have barely left a mark in the newly purchased provisions.  Thursday morning when I reach into the fridge to grab the milk jug for my cereal - I am surprised that the jug seems so light to the touch and that's when I realize that there's an inch of milk left. There it is, do you feel that? The root of my brimming frustration? I think God is trying to teach me patience.

Getting lost in the Emerald City

Please be enlightened; wisdom will always come at a cost - perhaps trivial - but nonetheless. We all crave adventure and yet are so wistful and reluctant to sacrifice anything in return for said thrill. Six months ago, I packed up my truck and moved to the north (read: the stupid Yukon) to conquer my fears and seek this alleged adventure. That really looks quite nice on paper, doesn't it?  Northern life has completely reset my perspective and breathed new life into my appetite for all things southern Manitoba.  Sure, the great state province of MB is run by socialists and anarchists, and doesn't have nearly enough rednecks - but it is home, sweeeeet, home.  I am all for following the yellow brick road.  Just don't go seeking Eden when it's really in your backyard.  Basically I'm just wicked homesick.  Somebody get me a pair of those red shoes...

This is not an advisory warning; some people spend their whole lives traveling, searching; chasing whimsy.  I'm simply advocating an idea that lies somewhere between go for broke and life is so much bigger than this moment.  Both are true.  Finding a balance is just borderline insanity.