Category Archives: Uncategorized
Keep four things between you and the earth
My father had a curious fascination for excellent shoes and foundation garments.
He instilled a fear in me of wearing other people’s shoes. Used shoes were imbued with the peculiarities of the previous wearer’s gait and would cripple me for life, my father warned.
Similarly, I spent the first 20 years of my life sure I’d die of a kidney infection if I didn’t wear an undershirt on cold days. My mother would recall with a sigh the cashmere underwear and camisole she was given on their first wedding anniversary.
Laugh as I may at my father’s dire fascination, he did have a point. Whatever comes between me and the earth has to be solid and supportive. We’re at our best with a strong foundation.
Wear the best shoes you can afford. I don’t mean the highest, pointiest, shiniest, Manolo Blahnik-est shoes. I mean the best ones for your feet, the ones that will support you, the ones that make your stride bold and sure.
Sleep on the best mattress you can afford. You spend a full third of your life sleeping. Do it on something that feels like a lullaby for your spine. You shouldn’t wake up with aches and sore spots from your bed.
If you drive, get the best tires you can afford. If you’re live in a snowy climate, yes, you do need snow tires for the winter. They make a difference in your ability to literally maneuver through the world.
And ladies, my father was right. Invest in some great foundation garments. A bra isn’t going to come between you and the earth (unless you’re doing burpees), but you cannot overestimate how a perfectly fitting, supportive bra can boost your confidence as well as your bosom.
Oh you dirty dirty girl
I firmly believe that any day that ends with my being dirty was a good day. The dirt can be from playing, from working hard, from having an adventure or even a misadventure. But if I come home and I’m dirty it can only mean:
- I’m safely home,
- I’m still alive, and
- I was really living. (There is a difference between merely being alive and truly living).
Getting dirty – whether in word, thought or deed – means you’ve done something to flout the straight and narrow conventions that say we must behave ourselves and be clean and in control at all times.
You’re dirty. You let go, freed yourself from the rules, and even if only for a little while, exercised a wilder you. 
The other day on my way into work I stopped to greet three Rottweilers that were out with their owner having a wet, mucky romp. I know these dogs so their hello back was canine joyous and very big. I ended up covered in mud and slobber from my chin to my knees. I couldn’t have been happier.
As I walked into the office I was smiling and thinking “It’s not even 9:00 a.m. and I’m already dirty. It’s going to be a great day!” And it was.
Tincture of time…
It’s been almost four weeks since I woke up one Saturday morning, clammy, nauseated and with the room spinning. At first I thought I had a hangover. I had a whole bottle of wine (and likely more) over the course of the previous evening’s whine and cheese urban bonfire. But this was no hangover.
What was ailing me was likely a virus, exacerbated by a painfully blocked Eustachian tube from sea water in my ear and airplane travel. I had had this before and my doctor charmingly prescribed “tincture of time.” You cannot buy it. You just gotta make it.
I tortured myself by googling my symptoms and confirming my worst suspicions. I had vertigo. I had Meniere’s disease. I had multiple sclerosis. I had a big, pulsing brain tumour. Go ahead… google any random selection of symptoms and it will invariably lead you to “big, pulsing brain tumour.”
I’m finally starting to feel normal –back to walking and eating real meals. I can watch videos again without the flickering images making me nauseated and I can bend down without the room becoming a merry-go-round. I can even stay up until it’s dark! Woot!
So, my friends, this is my long way of explaining where the heck those blog posts have been AND letting you know I’m baaaaaaaack.
Nothing left to lose
We were boarding our chartered bus about to start a three-week tour of Britain with 30 strangers from all over the world. My mother, surveying the group, turned to me and whispered “Watch out for the old ones. They’ve got nothing to lose!”
I laughed. At the time, I was just 26. My mother’s warning conjured images of desperate men and women cornered in a final gun battle with the police. With nothing left to lose they were capable of anything.
These old people I was about to spend nearly a month with – what kind of geriatric desperados were they? Every day they defiantly stared down the Grim Reaper. They knew each day could be their last and they sucked the life out of every moment with gusto.
These bright-eyed people with nothing left to lose had done the hard work of living – jobs, mortgages, spouses, children, in-laws and all the other myriad adult decisions we have to make in a lifetime – done and dusted. 
Now they could throw all caution to the wind. Carefree and thoroughly engaged in the world, they didn’t give a damn what anyone thought or said about them. They wore whatever pleased them. Said what was on their mind. They stayed up all night talking, laughing and dancing and ate pie for breakfast, if they wanted to.
As I remember them now, those people with nothing left to lose had it all.
Don’t wait for the world to be ready
After a long and frigid winter, I realized I needed some rest and relaxation. I had tendonitis in my hands from typing and mousing all day. My ever-aching feet were calloused and swollen. I was having constant migraines. I longed to swim in a big body of water and feel the sun on my skin. I wanted to be care free, with no schedules, alarm clocks, chores or even shoes. I just needed a few days of unadulterated summertime. And dammit! I wanted it now.
I asked my sister, who is a school teacher, if she wanted to go with me on a quick trip down south. We’d wait until she was done the school year and then fly out. But our schedules and vacation goals didn’t jibe and she ended up declining.
My mother had always said that if I wanted to do something, to not wait for others to be ready to come along. Just go!
So I went to Cuba for five days. 
And I’m so glad I did. It was exactly the vacation I wanted and when I wanted it. I played in the water all day. Ate when I was hungry. Slept when I was tired and woke up only when the sun told me to. I came back to Canada refreshed, relaxed and raring to go!
Don’t wait for other people to come along on your journey. No one will ever be as invested in you and your dreams as you are. Go follow them when and how it’s right for you.
Brenda, this one is for you.
Who are my special friends?
In Canada we have a children’s show called Romper Room. At the start of the show the hostess holds up a magic mirror and looking into it says “Romper stomper bomper boo. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me who. Who are my special friends today?” And then she proceeds to make a roll call of names – John and Brenda and Steve and so on and etc.
In my magic mirror, I see Brazil and Canada and the UK and the US and Russia and Germany and so on and so on. I’m delighted to see visitors from every continent!
So tell me. Tell me. Tell me who. Who are my special friends visiting this blog?
Who are you? Where are you from? Why do you come to The Pink Elephant Room? What topics tickle your fancy? What has given you food for thought? What do you wish I would write about more? Is there anything you’re curious about that you want to ask me?
The Pink Elephant Room encourages me to observe and examine my own feelings about everyday life – past and present. It makes me happy to write, to acknowledge people and events that have inspired me and to see readers coming to the blog. I’d love to get to know you better.
Let’s pretend…
Sometimes when I’m taking the bus to work, I pretend it’s a shuttle taking me from the airport to a week at a Caribbean resort or other for
eign destination.
Sometimes I will make a sandwich for myself, garnish it and then wrap it up and put it in the fridge. Later when I pull the sandwich from the fridge and eat it, I pretend that someone else made it for me.
Sometimes when I write I pretend I’m Jane Austen. I’m a woman who documents life, a keen and piercing observer of the world.
I’m a firm advocate of being in the here and now, and I’m pretty sure I’m not suffering from psychosis (but if anyone wants to argue otherwise, tell me!). So what is the point of all my pretending?
It’s good for me.
Pretending helps me know what my heart needs even when my head hasn’t gotten the memo.
Sometimes I need a break from my everyday life, an adventure or challenge. I dream about a relaxing getaway or exotic travels.
Sometimes I wish someone would take care of me. I need to feel like I’m not alone and doing it all for myself. I pretend some other loving body has made me a sandwich.
Sometimes I need to feel that what I do matters, that my work transcends time and space and reaches people in a way that changes them for the better.
Pretending reveals the urges of my heart. And that revelation is the first step to creating the reality that I need.
Every day
I worked with a woman who told me that every night when she tucked her boy into bed she’d ask him, “Did you do something today that was good for you? Did you do something nice for someone else? Did you do something today just 
because it’s fun?”
She said those were their rules for a successful day.
Every day do something that’s maybe hard to do but good for you.
- Get enough sleep
- Exercise
- Eat healthful foods
- Wear sunscreen
- Drink enough water
- Brush and floss your teeth
- Tackle a chore you’ve been putting off, the one that you’ve spent more psychic time and energy on than the actual task would take!
Every day do something nice for someone else
- Smile at a stranger and say good morning
- Bring someone a treat – a cup of coffee or tea, or a flower from your garden
- Help a neighbour or family member
- Give your time or money to charity
- Send a note just to say “hi”. Wow. Consider writing it on paper and sending it by real mail.
- Hug someone
- Pay a compliment. You know I’m a big fan of this one!
Every day do something just because it’s fun
- Enjoy a big laugh
- Play a game
- Listen to music
- Eat a decadent dessert
- Enjoy a good book
- Play with your children or pets
- Make some art or try a hobby
- Dance. Better yet dance naked. Oh, go on… dance naked in front of a mirror. I do this one every day. Some parts of me keep dancing long after I’ve stopped moving!
The beautiful thing about these every day rules of success is that each one will make you feel better. The hard stuff, even just attempted, will boost your sense of accomplishment. You cannot do for others without putting a gloss on yourself. And doing something just because it’s fun reminds you that you are lovable and life is a joy.
If you manage to dance naked in front of your pets while flossing your neighbour’s teeth you will be positively sublime.
The potty war
My mother liked to tell the story of the day she kicked me out of the house. I was two years old.
I remember none of what I’m about to tell you.
I was one of those kids who resisted toilet training. I squawked to be changed if I had a wet diaper. But sitting around in my own 
poo? Fabulous! I didn’t mind the warm, squishy, cushiony comfort. Maybe I even liked it. I can’t say.
My mother knew I knew how to use the toilet. She knew I knew the whole wearing-diapers business was no longer acceptable. She also knew I just didn’t care. Nope, not one bit. No amount of reasoning, cajoling, encouraging or coercion could make me do what she wanted me to do. In desperation she took a calculated risk.
She packed a tiny suitcase for me (I wonder what was in it). “If you can’t live by my rules, then you can’t live here,” she said to me as she handed me the suitcase. “Now leave.”
So I took that suitcase and I left.
I walked all the way to the end of the street. And then I stood there. The street ended at a very busy road. My mother watched from the porch, her heart hiccupping and beating double time. She said it seemed like forever as I, just a tot, stood there, clutching the suitcase, puzzling over how to navigate the traffic.
Finally I turned around and came home. I looked up at my mother and said “Okay. We’ll do it your way.”
I never wore a diaper again.
The lessons in this story are clichéd but apt:
Pick your battles. This was one battle my mother really did have to win, and I’m glad she did.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Fortune favours the brave. If I had just crossed that road, who knows where I’d be now? But seriously, my mother took a big risk and got her results.
Update: since writing this post, my sister who is seven years older than me, confirmed that the contents of the suitcase were a pair of socks, a pair of terry cloth underwear and a book. I guess my mother expected me to come back.
The Pink Elephant Room 