You Better Work (unless sick; then You Better Stay Home)

On January 10, 2019 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?22 Comments

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vw9LOrHU8JI

Sick! That’s how I started off my 2019. As opposed to Sickening.

One of my goals was to take 10,000 steps per day every day in 2019. I don’t think I have even taken 10K steps, YET!

It started already on December 31, with a headache that just wouldn’t die, and swollen neck glands. I was determined to tough it out. But instead I got sicker each day, until I just let the flu virus have its way with me. So I stayed home and kept my germs to myself (as we should always do). If I couldn’t thwart the evil bug any other way, I was determined that THIS ENDS WITH ME.

During my self-imposed isolation from humanity, I kept myself amused by catching up on RuPaul’s Drag Race on Netflix, between naps and coughing and sneezing and shuffling to the kitchen for drugs and more drugs. I had watched Season 1 way back when and then Season 8 last year, and had a lot of catching up to do, obviously. I found when I was watching Season 8 that I was getting quite frustrated and pissy. It was like joining a new group (with its own language) and not getting any of the in-jokes. Heck, I couldn’t even determine WHAT they were saying, half the time. Let alone what they meant by it. I felt like an outsider.

However, now I am pleased to report that I have earned my certificate in Drag-ology. Yep, this past week and a half has been like going to Drag Immersion School. There are still a few terms I am not 100% clear on the meaning of, but I am sure they are probably dirty. Yes, because I have learned that drag queens are mostly dirty shady, sickening, fierce lady-boys.

I could listen to Alyssa Edwards give commentary all day. Don’t judge. (Also, I believe the correct quote is “Look how fucking orange you look, girl.”)

But watching them gives me life so I don’t really mind.

Just so you don’t think I was totally lazy while ill, I was also determinedly growing in my eyebrows. It was and continues to be exhausting. Constantly using your left hand to slap the tweezers out of your right hand is SO. VERY. TIRING. Ugh.

Perhaps I should just do this instead:

Or I could use an Elmer’s glue stick and erase them completely, then draw them back on, drag-style.

Stay healthy, sissy that walk, and rock on,

The WB

I Feel Dirty

On December 16, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Goals & Dreams, Hmmm?37 Comments

As I am preparing to acknowledge and celebrate the Winter Solstice again, for the 2nd time, I’ve been watching a bunch of YouTube videos on the subject so I get an idea on how this was done historically as well as what people are doing now.

It’s very eye-opening, how many beloved Christmas symbols and practices actually arose from earlier religious practices and were neatly folded into the Christian celebration of Christ’s birth (spoiler: most probably didn’t happen on December 25).

For instance, the following arise from pagan traditions, and were co-opted by Christians:

“Christmas” colours – red, green, gold, silver
Yule log
Wassailing
“Christmas” tree
“Christmas” lights and candles
“Christmas” wreath
Hanging of mistletoe

Don’t get me wrong. I am not knocking Christmas. I grew up with this holiday and have many fond memories of magical Christmases with family and friends. But I’m at a stage in my life where Christmas is more a remembrance of those I’ve lost and as such, more reflective and less celebratory. It’s just not the same anymore. I don’t have any little people in my life right now – and may never have and that’s OK – so Christmas is no longer all that and a bag of chips, for that reason either.

(Plus I’m not a Christian so there’s that. I guess you could say I grew up as a cultural Christian, rather than an observant one. Historically, the Christian religion has only brought strife, division and pain to my immediate family… only my one sister has found any solace in it.)

But celebrating the Winter Solstice really resonates with me. I am becoming more and more tuned to the natural world once again so marking the shortest day of the year and welcoming a new solar year just makes more sense for me than a Christmas or New Year’s holiday celebration.

So I’m busy working on my intentions for the Solstice, and also learning what I can about this ages-old tradition of humans (especially those from northern Europe – the bulk of my genetic background) marking this special time of year.

This week, I was watching a cute video in which a guy played himself and a long-lost Viking explaining how to celebrate Yule. Video ended and I dove into my journal to write some thoughts down. Meanwhile, YouTube cued up and started playing another video (as it does) that I had not selected to view. In it, a cute little 20-something blond girl (hair in a braid, even) is discussing the myths of Santa Claus, etc. Innocuous, right?

Wrong! This video, produced by something called Red Ice TV, quickly devolved into a neo-Nazi, white supremacist rant about how us (Us? Not sure I want to belong, now) “hard-working, resourceful Northern Europeans” have had our culture appropriated by “lazy southerners” (Huh? Code for people of colour and Jews, I think) and we need to take back Yule traditions and make Christmas WHITE again. (Which doesn’t make sense, I know, but that’s what little Miss Hitler said.)

HOLY SHIT! I couldn’t have been more shocked if the video had turned into some wild porn orgy instead. In fact, I could have handled that a lot better than what I saw and heard.

I can’t stop thinking about it and that stuff like that exists on Ye Olde Interwebs, to infect people’s minds with hatred. I mean, I knew intellectually that fake news and hate speech exists in cyberspace. I had just never searched it out or come across it in any way until this week.

And now I feel so dirty.

I’m not going to link to the offensive video, as I don’t want it to get any more views than it already has.

All I can say is: Be careful out there, gentle readers – I’d hate for you to come across vile filth like this.

Stay safe, and rock on,

The WB

A Widow for 5 Years

On November 17, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?37 Comments

Dear Blog,

So sorry I’ve been neglecting you of late. I’ve been uber reflective this past while (with no signs of stopping), and haven’t felt like/ready to speak of any of this on ye olde you. Which, although a little early, is not out of character for me, at this time of the approaching solstice.

Anyways, this post will be kinda short, as I did something to my back yesterday and I can’t stay comfortably in one spot for too long. Yeah, I was moving an empty shopping cart in the Costco parking lot and every muscle in my lower back seized. Weird. Both my parents had back problems (and Mom underwent several surgeries) and I thought I had dodged that particular bullet, but maybe that time is over? Hopefully not. Robaxacet and ice are my 2 new best friends.

So this week marked my 5th year as a widow. That’s 2 years longer than I was married (although we were together for 11 years, in total). To mark the occasion, I did this:

dried out wedding bouquet — Tossed in the garbage can, finally. After 8 years.

Yep. Right after I got back from my honeymoon, I hung up my wedding bouquet in my office to dry it out, and there it has been every since. Over the years, I’ve kept looking at it and thinking I really should take it down, but then the phone would ring or someone would walk in, and after a while, you just don’t even see it there anymore.

So this week, on November 14th – the 5 year anniversary of JD’s passing and my entry into widowhood – I finally got up on a step stool, removed the bouquet from the ceiling hook it was suspended from, and tossed it in my trash bin.

I mean, what else am I supposed to do with this thing?

Nothing really means anything to me anymore about this relationship, since learning of his infidelity after his death. All my formerly wonderful memories have been tainted by this discovery, so I don’t even have those to comfort me. So why hang on to any reminders of that time?

At this point, I just feel meh about the whole thing. So many good things have happened since November 14th, 2013 that my married life feels like another, far distant life entirely. And that in itself, is a very good thing.

Rock on,

The WB

Random Thanksgiving Thoughts

On October 7, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?37 Comments

canada geese on river — Happy not to be turkeys this weekend, I suppose.

Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian friends!

My sister is down visiting me this lovely Thanksgiving weekend, so this post will be short ~~and hopefully mostly sweet~~.

I haven’t made any further progress on my mermaid painting, in case you were wondering. The weather has been good again and I’ve been going out on many a fall walk, to enjoy it. I hope to post some progress made by next weekend.

I occasionally dream about my late husband. They are not nice dreams. In the dreams I am anxious that he will find out I threw out (almost) all his stuff and completely overhauled his building since he died. A couple of nights ago when he appeared in a dream is the first time that I actually spoke up and told him that I knew he cheated on me. Which left me wondering what this means, when I awoke. I usually wake up and wonder why I didn’t confront him with this in the dream, so I guess this is improvement and healthy on the part of my psyche? Any dream interpreters out there with thoughts on this?

Like every other sane woman on the planet with internet access, I am disgusted by what is happening in the US right now. Looks like the patriarchy is not going away anytime soon. I had thought we were making (infinitesimally) slow but steady progress towards a more just world (for anybody, everybody…not just white cis males) since I was a child, but looks like any progress that was being made can be wiped out in an instant. Since Trump, the bigots, racists and misogynists feel free to come parading out of their closets and fly their freak flags openly. And this has spilled over to Canada too. WTF?

I could be (and maybe should be) losing my shit over this but I am just so tired of it all. Just. So. Tired.

I was a fierce crusader against injustice when I was a preteen/young teen and I got burnt out at a young age. My mother told me once that she and Dad were happy I was born too late to be a “hippy” because they were sure I would have run away to join Greenpeace to save the whales, the planet, whatever they were saving at that time (I forget). I probably would have too.

(Back then, one of my teachers at junior high told my mother that I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. No wonder I need regular massage therapy for that area…hehehe.)

But not any more. I just want to be left alone to enjoy what’s left of my time here in peace. And Trump et al are fucking that up for me. Bringing back all the memories and the feels of what I have endured as a woman in a patriarchal society, and yes, #MeToo.

Anywho, since I can’t pretend I can save the world anymore, at least I can put on a kickass Thanksgiving dinner and enjoy the simple, satisfying pleasure of feeding, and spending time with, my family. Those that can make it to dinner, that is. Which is my plan for this October Sunday.

I wish the same for all of you. Give thanks today for what you can control, and – just for a moment, at least – forget about what you can’t.

Rock on,

The WB

Fountain Pen Mania, Rekindled

On September 23, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?, See the Beauty31 Comments

What I hauled home from the Phidon Pens 10th Anniversary Sale – glass dip pen, 3 new inks, fountain pen-friendly journal (the paper really matters!), converter for my Lamy fountain pen, 2 book marks created gratis by one of the lovely calligraphy class instructors, gratis Phidon bookmark and shopping bag.

When I was a newly minted teenager, I first discovered fountain pens. My dad had given me a old-fashioned box of nibs and a couple of plastic holders that he picked up somewhere from someone, along with a bottle of ink. I loved dipping those pens into the ink bottle and pouring my profound (as profound as any 13 year old’s) thoughts into my notebook every day.

As I got older, I stopped using the pens and writing my profound thoughts down for a time. I was busy as a young wife, career woman, and mother.

Then one day I read “Writing Down the Bones” by Natalie Goldberg, and I remembered my love for writing and for fountain pens as I was reading about her use of the same. So I bought a disposable fountain pen and a cheap notebook, and began pouring out my thoughts (profound and otherwise) again. It felt good to be able to articulate what I was feeling and going through in this way. It was a release valve for me, as I struggled to find meaning and happiness in an unsuitable marriage. Until I found out a decade later that my then-husband had been sneaking into my desk drawer and reading my journal entries all these years without my permission. I felt violated and stopped writing completely. My fountain pens dried up, and I threw them away.

I didn’t keep a journal in my second marriage. I had no more trust left in me. I created and took down a couple of anonymous blogs, writing about my struggles in living with a man who refused to seek help for his OCD. I was so afraid he would find out that they never lasted long.

When JD died and I spent a year cleaning up his hoard, I came across a never-used Waterman fountain pen, still in the presentation box. I did use it a couple of times (for signing the lease with my tenants, for example) but I didn’t like the memories I had attached to it, that came up with each use. Funny how we do this to inanimate objects. Also, I don’t know the provenance of it. Was it a gift from an ex-lover? The woman he cheated on me with? I still have it, but no longer use it. It probably won’t survive the next purge I do around Chez Badass. Instead I bought a (cheap but very nice) Lamy pen off the Interwebs, that I have been using to write with.

So that brings us to the present day. Phidon Pens has been around since 2008, and I have been aware of it since it opened, as it is across the street from the year-round Farmers’ Market that I love to visit. Yet, I had never gone in. Due to a multitude of factors, including me never being in the area when it was actually open for business. And a very real fear of spending my life savings on a rekindled fountain pen mania. Hah!

Which is kinda exactly what happened. I made a special effort to attend the 10th anniversary sale (30% off EVERYTHING), and dropped a load of money on goodies. I almost bought another fountain pen – a beautiful rose gold brushed metal number that felt great in the hand. But, dear Bloggie, instead I bought a converter for the Lamy that I already owned. So now I can draw up one of the inks I bought, instead of relying solely on purchased cartridges. How mature. How fiscally responsible.

Let’s not discuss the glass dip pen (so beautiful, so much fun) though, shall we?

Rock on,

The WB

Gutted by Grief

On August 23, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Badassery, Hmmm?34 Comments

Dear Blog,

By now you are no doubt wondering where I have suddenly gone. I’ve broken my promise to you to write weekly for this year and you are wondering what the hell happened when I have been going so strong, so far. Wonder no more, dear Bloggie. I have been gutted by grief.

Oh, I know what you are thinking. I should be an old hand at this grief thing by now. After all, I’ve lost so many loved ones over the past 5 years that I note and celebrate a year without a funeral in my annual Christmas letter. Seriously.

I knew that my adult daughter, Mizz J, leaving me to start a new life in British Columbia was going to be tough. After all, she has never lived more than a 15 minute car ride away from me for her entire life. And she spent the last 2 years living with me, again. But I had no idea just how bad it was going to be.

It started with my daughter and her man (who I also love and miss) pulling out of my driveway, for the last time (for the foreseeable future) about a week ago. We’d had a tearful parting, natch, although I was happy to see them start off on this adventure together, and they were happy to be going.

As the vehicle pulled away, I felt…I don’t know how to explain it really…just wrong in my body. I didn’t know what was happening to me physically other than I hated the feeling. Everything was wrong, in my body and my mind. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was distraught and absolutely at loose ends. It was horrible.

Was I dying? Is this what it feels like? I finally decided I wasn’t dying, so now what do I do?

I reached out on Facebook to people for suggestions on how to cope, and I got plenty of good ideas but truly, I was too upset and distracted to employ any of them at the time.

So, practical me, I cleaned instead. And organized. And wept. And thus worked myself into an exhaustion that left no more room for feeling.

So ended the first day.

It got slowly better after that, dear Blog. I went to work. I went to the 3rd of 3 music festivals I committed to this month. I cleaned more. I organized more. I exercised. I meditated. I journalled about being grateful to have deep, reciprocated feelings for family. I worked my plan for this time that I knew was coming.

I am plagued by high levels of fatigue and body aches, yet. I am forgetful and get distracted easily. Remember that advertisement for pain medication that proclaimed “Because depression hurts”? Well, grief hurts too. But even with all the grief I have experienced, to date nothing has given me physical symptoms like this.

Someone suggested that this episode is so severe because it is a culmination of everything that has gone before, hence the extreme reaction. Could be some (or a lot) of truth to that. I can’t say. All I can say is that I thought I knew what grief was, but dear Blog, I really had no idea how devastating it could be – not only mentally but physically.

Someone said to me that I really wasn’t such a badass after all – that this proved I was only “human”. I agreed with them – I am definitely human.

But I still believe I am also a badass and that the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

Being a badass doesn’t mean you are tough as nails and can’t be affected by anything and never feel deep emotion.

Being a badass means life knocks you down and you keep getting back up.

Being a badass means you push through the pain.

Being a badass means you know that life is both good AND bad and that neither condition lasts forever.

So enjoy the good and gut the bad stuff out, dear Bloggie, even when it’s gutting you.

I’ll be visiting you again soon. I promise.

Rock on,

The WB

The August Plan

On August 4, 2018August 31, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Good Times, Hmmm?, Music41 Comments

August is a great month. Fresh corn, peaches, and tomatoes are all available. I have music festivals lined up for each of the first 3 weeks. I’m seeing The Rocky Horror Show in Stratford during the last week of August. It’s my son’s birthday next weekend and I’m throwing him a birthday dinner to celebrate.

What is not to love?

Well, my daughter, who has been living with me for the past 2 years while pursuing her MSW, and her boyfriend, who has been living with us for the past 6 months, are pulling out of Ontario mid-month to start a new life out on the west coast, in British Columbia.

I’m very happy for them. This is the right move for them, for many reasons. And I’m a wee bit envious of their grand adventure. But I’m also going to miss them like crazy.

My place is going to feel very empty for a while. I am going to have to deal with coming home every day to an empty house, again.

Don’t get me wrong – I love living alone.

I want to live alone.

I deserve to live alone.

But every time I have people stay for a length of time, when they leave I have to get used to living alone all over again. And having a child not only leave but move 3-fucking-thousand miles away is going to multiply my alone-feeling exponentially.

I don’t want this to happen:

Hehehehe…the opening of this movie continues to crack me up every time I watch it.

But seriously, I don’t want this to be me.

So I am drafting a bit of a plan, to adjust to being alone again.

Instead of eating or drinking my feelings (a real fear, people), I plan to exercise them. Instead of moping around the house, I plan to clean and organize it. Instead of being my introverted, antisocial self, I might actually call a friend and make a plan to go out.

OK, maybe that last one is a bit of a stretch. 😉

I feel good that I’m anticipating my sadness and have a plan to deal with it.

Today’s post was supposed to be about what a great time I had last Friday at the spa with fellow bloggers Karen and Joanne, and then the continued birthday celebrations at home Saturday, and then meeting lovely Karen The Unassuming Hiker (another blogger I admire) and her equally lovely husband for lunch on Sunday, and how bagged I am from all the socializing and then having to do the job of 2 people at work all week, and my need to recover from all of the above. Whew.

But instead this is what I really need to write about.

Rock on,

The WB

Ranty July – A Changing Seasons Post #monthlyphotochallenge #thechangingseasons

On July 25, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Adventures in Food, Good Times, Hmmm?, See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors38 Comments

July started off with a bang. Canada Day (July 1) is also my daughter’s (Mizz J) birthday. I made a fabulous trifle, using local berries and sherry, and of course plenty of local, growth-hormone free, high quality dairy.

Uh-oh, here comes a rant:

~~Fuck you Trump~~. I support Canadian Dairy and Canadian Dairy supports me, literally. It’s my day job, to work for a company that supports this industry, which I love. So yeah, fuck you, Trump. As a dairy insider, I can tell you your milk is not up to Canadian quality standards. Most of it would not be allowed in this country even if the borders were wide open. And you can thank the Canadian supply management system for making sure Canadians get the highest quality milk for their money. Rant over. (Aren’t you relieved?)

Canada Day dessert — Strawberry Trifle. It was delicious. Note to self: next time don’t be afraid to add more sherry. Yes, that’s real whipped cream on top, people. Thank goddess for my Kitchen Aid mixer. The berries are spectacular this year.

I got out for a Beach Day this month. To my usual haunt: Bayfield.

Stairs to Lake Huron shore — I usually park at the Marina but this year I went to Pioneer Park instead and took the stairs down to the Lake Huron shore.

There was plenty of beauty to see at home, as well.

Mill Pond and day lilies in July — Day Lilies in bloom down at the Mill Pond.

Heron as seen from kayak — I usually can’t get even this close to these wary birds. But this one was intent on fishing so wasn’t focusing on me in the kayak so much.

Another heron fishing. — Could be the same heron. Dunno. There are quite a few of them on the Mill Pond.

Swans on the Mill Pond — There are a few swans as well, peacefully cohabiting with the herons, ducks, geese, and egrets on the Mill Pond.

Sunset clouds reflected on the water — I love capturing the reflections on the Mill Pond throughout the day, and especially the approaching evening.

Sunset reflected on the water — The end of another beautiful July day on the Mill Pond. Taken from the village dock. Which shall forever more be known as The Sex Dock. I was trying to show it off to a visitor and we happened upon a couple banging away under a blanket…ON THE DOCK…IN EARLY EVENING AKA BROAD DAYLIGHT. Needless to say, we turned around immediately and left visiting the dock for another day. #VillageLife

Black caps and raspberries for breakfast — A lovely weekend breakfast including the bountiful berries of July. The berries are spectacular this year, did I mention that? Banana oatmeal pancakes, Greek Yogurt, black caps, raspberries, maple syrup and back bacon. Nespresso latte macchiato – forget which flavour but probably Roma.

And finally, I haven’t mentioned this on the blog yet I don’t think, but I did purchase a new car. On May 25th I picked up a new plug-in hybrid vehicle, a Prius Prime. Forever to be known as Edward the Third, for being my third white Prius that sparkles in the sunlight. I got a full tank of gas with the car. Today, July 25th, I decided it was time to put more gas in since I am anticipating some long drives coming up over the next few days. I still had a little less than a quarter of the original tank left. Behold my dashboard, prior to today’s fill-up:

gas mileage of Prius Prime after 2 months driving — That’s right – 3043 km driven and I still have a bit of gas left. Today was my first ever fill-up of the car I picked up on May 25!

I’m very pleased with my new car. The range of electric driving for me is around 56 km. I was told the car had a range of 40 km, however the car ~~learns how you drive~~ trains you how to drive more efficiently and rewards you with more range. It takes into account the amount of energy you save with regenerative braking and also coasting and using the engine brake to slow down. So I’ve “earned” a range of 56 km by giving up my lead foot. 😉

Which means during the week I drive solely on electric power on any given day. I only seem to dip into gas power on weekends, when I take longer drives for Beach Days and such.

Uh-oh, I’m feeling ranty again…

I was planning on trading in Edward II later on this year, but decided to take advantage of the government incentive to buy a plug-in hybrid. And I’m glad I did when I did because the provincial government has changed hands and now this rebate has been terminated.

Ironically, the party now in power campaigned that they are for the little guy, yet they take away a rebate that could actually benefit the common person. They’ve told their base that electric cars are only for the elite and cost $$$$. Which is blatantly untrue. Clearly they are taking a page from the Trump playbook and the sheeple believe their gaslighting, as I’ve seen on Twitter.

Follow the money, people. Follow the money, to learn the truth.

It’s been 2 months of daily driving and all I’ve spent on gas is $32. Only just today. Just sayin’…

Fuck you too, Ford. Rant over, and out.

(OMG, do I ever need that Spa Day.)

The Changing Seasons is a monthly photo challenge hosted by Su Leslie of Zimmerbitch.

Rock on,

The WB

SaveSave

My Life’s Third Act

On July 20, 2018July 20, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Artistic Endeavours, Badassery, Hmmm?43 Comments

A week from now I’ll be celebrating my 59th birthday. I plan on spending the actual day of at a luxurious spa with some fellow bloggers – 2 kindred spirits I have come to know and befriend. I can’t think of a better way to kick off another year.

A week from now I will be only 1 year away from officially starting my “third act”.

59 – that is also the official start of my 60th year of life. If I die after next week, the obit will read “…in her 60th year…”.

I’m doing a lot of reflecting lately – even more so than usual – and this is a short list of events that helped shape me during this last, past decade.

In my 50s, I (not always in chronological order):

Became engaged (on my 49th birthday, so technically right at the start of my 50th year of life)
Started blogging again, for realz this time (on September 3rd, 2009. The Blogger blog was called The Next Year of My Life. I wanted to capture all of my thoughts and plans leading up to my 2nd marriage)
Got married again, at age 51, on September 3rd, 2010
Became a widow, 3 years later, on November 14, 2013
Found out in January 2014 that my late husband had cheated on me with another woman (for 18 months!) while we were living together
Ran 4 more half-marathons (1st one was when I was 48)
Went to the Netherlands 3 times
Went to Barbados 3 times
Had 2 mini-strokes and was diagnosed with high blood pressure
Had laser eye surgery
Straightened my teeth with Invisalign
Lost my mother, my father-in-law, and my dog (all in the same year)
Sold my house and moved into my late husband’s building
Spent a year cleaning up the mess left behind by my late husband’s hoarding
Completely repaired/renovated the building’s exterior doors, lights, roofs, plumbing, electrical, heating and cooling
Completely renovated my new living space – new kitchen and bathrooms, floors, electrical, laundry, etc.
Became a commercial landlord, to a museum!
Completed a Master of Business Administration degree
Was diagnosed with underactive thyroid (as if all of the above wasn’t enough to explain my tiredness 😉 )
Became the Widow Badass

Wow. That sounds like a lot as I read it. But is it really? I wonder if we look back on any given decade, if we don’t find that an awful lot of life has happened to us, while we were busy making other plans (thanks, John Lennon).

What all will happen during my next decade? Will I get a next decade? What will be a result of my intentions, and what will be my reactions to things that happen to me that are out of my control? Hmmmm.

Finished piece celebrating precious life — Precious Life. Finished! Each dot represents a month of life. The total number of dots represent the months of a 90 year life span. The dots highlighted with pearlescent paint are the ones I have experienced so far in my journey. The deepest, richest dots are yet to come, my painting predicts. Buddha of the Polebeans graciously offers to hold up my piece.

As per my painting, I am getting close to entering the final third of my life. So naturally I’ve been thinking a lot about life’s third act – MY life’s third act and how I want it to look. I intend the spend the next year working on some ideas for the final third, if I’m lucky enough to be here for it.

Jane has given me a lot to think about. I hope you take the time to watch the video below, and that you enjoy it.

What are some of your plans for your third act?

Do tell and rock on,

The WB

SaveSave

Precious Life

On June 17, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Good Times, Hmmm?, See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors22 Comments

Happy Father’s Day, everyone!

Today is super hot. Since I was sick earlier this spring (here and here), I haven’t been able to get out on the kayak so I just had to get on the river today. Had to.

I opened my eyes, rolled out of bed, filled a Contigo cup with Earl Grey, got dressed and was pulling Smokey Robinson out of the shed in about 15 minutes flat. On the river by 7 am. While it was still relatively cool out.

Tiny island on the Mill Pond. Love the early morning stillness on the river.

I got as far as here, going against the current (slight, but still there):

Black Bridge Road. About 2 km from where I began.

Then I turned around and kicked off my sandals and relaxed, to sip my tea and let the current slowly, peacefully, take me back home.

This is the best way to spend a Sunday morning, without leaving town, that I know of.

I made a short video of my drift, so you could hear the riot of birdsong that was the soundtrack to my morning. But WordPress says it is too big of a media file to upload, so please check out my Facebook or Instagram (right hand side of ye olde blogge) if you want to view it. And turn the sound up please!

While I drifted, I kept thinking about a website I was directed to, in one of Alastair Humphrey‘s newsletters. I highly recommend you subscribe. His newsletters are full of interesting tidbits and links related to adventuring. After all, this life is our biggest adventure, isn’t it? And I am a huge fan of his coining of the term “micro-adventures”. I try to have micro-adventures whenever I can, for now…mega-adventures to come once I have more free time!

In one of his recent newsletters, Alastair shared this link – Your Life in Weeks – which he calls a terrifying firework up the bum to get on in life. So of course I had to click on it. Go ahead and check it out, I’ll wait.

It can be sobering to count out the weeks or months to a 90 year life span. And more sobering to realize that there is no guarantee one will even make it to then. But, I also think it is a great and necessary reminder that life is quite finite, and every week or month (or day or hour for that matter) that passes brings us closer to the end. It helps to remember this for better decision-making, I firmly believe.

And far from feeling morbid, it makes me feel so damn grateful instead – to be able to savour these happy moments like this morning on the river. I doubt I’ll be hauling a kayak down to the river when I’m 90. More likely my kids will be saying something like “Mom would have been 90 this year.” (I know my genetics ain’t the greatest…just sayin’).

I am so inspired by this graphic of a lifespan in weeks, I am going to translate this idea into a painting. But I will go by months (moons) instead. Something to hang up to remind me not to waste time or my precious life.

Do you find it comforting or terrifying to look at your life in this way?

Rock on,

The WB

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