Listen To The Cookie!

Do you believe in fate? Kismet? That some things are just "meant to be"?

Hubby and I have been in the market for a 2nd vehicle - used, of course, but not so used that it would become a paperweight in our driveway within the next five or six years. The problem is, we had no idea what we were looking for.

I thought a people-mover (but not a mini-van, by God!) would be a better idea. Let's face it, our children weren't getting any smaller, and neither was the amount of gear they needed hauled around. Personally, I had fallen in love with the Honda Pilot.

Our financial situation was screaming for a very cheap gas mizer, just big enough to fit the four of us and the dog without causing permanent injury. Something that wouldn't require a bank loan. Something that could be paid for by visiting the ATM a couple of times in a day.

While at dinner for our niece's birthday the other night, we were once again agonizing over the decision. I half-jokingly suggested we flip a coin. Sure, let a coin toss decide our financial down-fall. Why not? Hubby, looking to make this situation a tad more realistic, said two out of three. I called heads for the people-mover, tails for el-cheapo.

Toss number one landed heads. Okay, so far, so good. Toss number two also landed heads. Hubby and I looked at each other. Are we really going to let this coin toss make this huge decision for us? We let it lie and went on with dinner.

Now, this particular dinner was happening at a Chinese buffet. So, the end of dinner also brought the requisite fortune cookies. We all cracked open our cookies and laughed at each other's fortunes. Except for hubby. He did laugh at his own, but it was not a laugh at the ridiculous...it was a laugh of incredulity. Here's what his fortune cookie read:

"You received some good advice tonight. Listen to it!"

Seriously? Heed the coin-toss's advice? Was someone "up there" trying to tell us that we should buy this people-mover after all? Kind of spookey, don't you think?

Alright, we can certainly take a hint when one hits us over the head. So we were on the hunt for a used Honda Pilot. Easier said than done. Apparently, anyone who turned one of these trucks in after their lease was up did so because they never learned how to park it properly. Every one we looked at had some major dents and gouges on each of the four fenders. One even looked like part of the interior had been chewed by a beaver. Many disappointing leads later, we found one in our price range with all our required options about an hour's drive away. So we pile into the CR-V and head on down to have a look.

On the way down, we start chatting about some of the accessories we'd like to get for the new vehicle, if and when we ever find the right one. One of the items we would be getting is a rubber mat for the cargo area so that the dog fur would be less likely to weave itself in to the carpet.

Once we arrived at the dealership and were greeted by the salesman who immediately became our long-lost best friend, we were steered through the showroom. And there she was. Oh...my...GOD she was beautiful! Of all the trucks we had looked at, this one was by far in the best condition cosmetically. Yes, there were a few dings and scratches, as expected in a used vehicle, but way fewer than any other truck we had seen so far. The paint was almost new, with the exception of a couple of rock chips here and there. The interior was pristine. The leather gleamed. The motor positively purred. She was perfect.

And then we opened the back hatch. What did we see sitting in the cargo area? The exact rubber mat that hubby and I had just been discussing on the way down.

Yet another sign that this match was meant to be?

I certainly think so!

We signed the papers as soon as we could without seeming too desperate. We pick her up tomorrow night. Yes, I'm so excited about getting this truck that I'm even willing to take the chance of missing one night of Taekwondo (just in case we don't make it back in time)! Of course, I'll make up for it later in the week if I do miss it, but you get the picture. ;)

Looking For Shoes

Hey all.

For those of you who don't know, I lost my one and only sparring match at this past week-end's tournament. It was a close match, and I came home with bronze because of the way the tree fell.

I won't get into the gory details. Suffice it to say I'm not impressed with my performance, and I'll be working diligently to improve the situation before the next tourney.

On to other matters at hand...

I'd like to get a pair of Taekwondo shoes. I'd like something I can wear around the dojang (since I spend a few hours there several times a week, between my own classes and my son's), as well as at tournaments while warming up. I learned at this last tourney that warming up in bare feet on the cold, concrete floors of the high-school hallway is not a pleasant experience - even for those of us with the most weathered "Taekwon-toes" in the dojang.

I probably won't train in them, since we're not allowed shoes at tournaments, and we're taught to train the way we compete.

Here's where it gets interesting...

I'm looking for a style to match my latest girl-power-themed mid-life crisis.

Hitting the Big 4-0 was something that took me completely by surprise. Not the number itself, although I shied away from even thinking the number until the very last possible minute. No, it was the manner in which my mid-life manifested itself.

I've never been a girly-girl. I never understood the concept of "make-up" or "wardrobes" or "shoe fetishes" the way my friends all did. Shopping gave me a headache. Every stitch of clothing I owned was either black or red...not a drop of pink or purple to be found. I've spent several decades sporting the same bland, utilitarian Timex watch, small gold hoop earrings and no other jewelry to speak of.

I still don't think I'm "girly" per se.

But my 40th birthday brought with it a sudden, inexplicable, and somewhat scary appreciation for the more feminine things in life.

Like my new purple, flowery cell phone with the Bluetooth earpiece that is bedecked with Swarovski crystals so it looks like I have a cross between the Star Trek triangle emblem and a disco ball stuck in my ear.

And my pink iPod with the matching pink aluminum case that I had laser-etched with my name and a flaming horse.

And my new short, spiky, sassy haircut that is modeled after the one Halle Berry sported in her Catwoman movie - after she develops the feline 'tude, of course.

Right...back to the shoes. What I'm looking for is something functional, yet feminine. Pink would be preferable. Something shiny would not be frowned upon, either. But it has to be something that won't dent or mark the mats in the dojang, and something I can do light work-out/warm-up work in.

What do you all think? Any suggestions? Reviews? Favourite on-line shopping sites for all things "martial arts"? Lay it on me, folks! :)

Wish Me Luck!

This is it, folks. The night before my very first Taekwondo tournament.

Silly me, I actually went to the dojang to train tonight. So, everything from the neck down is tired and achy. Actually, it was all still sore from Wednesday's beating...I mean...training session. On top of that, we did a little sparring tonight, so I have several new bruises coming with me tomorrow as well. I'm just hoping I'll be able to lift my arms to protect my face. If I come home with all my teeth, it will have been a good day.

Am I nervous? Yup. Can I sleep? Nope. That might present a bit of a problem when my alarm goes off at 6:00 in the blessed AM.

So, here I am, on the eve of my very first foray into competitive Taekwondo, sore and battered...and doing laundry. Yup, I'm staying up, trying to get my whites their whitest. Because, Heaven forbid I should face my almost phobic fear of public display and humiliation in a dingy dobuk.

Wish me luck!

Just Another Drop

Hey blog fans!

Remember my recent posting about Just A Drop? The miracle product that probably saved my marriage?

I received my care package from the makers of the Just A Drop. Inside was a smorgasbord of Just A Drop goodies for me to try out. There were new bottles of the original product, which I neglected to mention last time has a wonderfully refreshing eucalyptus scent ... makes your washroom smell like a craft store.

There was also a box of their single-use packs. Now, if you've ever had to deal with a bowel disorder, you will understand what I mean when I say that these single-use packs are an absolute Godsend. I've already used them a few times at the dojang where I train ... one washroom inside the women's change room, and one inside the dojang itself. Neither is the kind of place you want to walk out of after you've caused it to smell like an outhouse, 'cause everyone will know it was YOU. These single-use packs are brilliant. Sheer genius. They work 100% as advertised. I can't tell you how absolutely thrilled I am to have some in my purse right now. If I had a limited amount of space in my purse and I had to choose between carrying some of these single-use packs and - oh, I don't know, say - pictures of my family, I'd choose the Just A Drop and wouldn't even bat an eyelash.

And then there are the bottles of the two new Just A Drop scents - Floral Oasis and Refreshing Spring. I never thought I'd be this excited to go to the bathroom! :)

My TKD Is Like A Bad Pun Or Dysfunctional Goat

A guy walks into his psychiatrist's office.

"Doc," he says. "I've been having this strange recurring dream. First, I'm a teepee. Then, I'm a wigwam. Then a teepee. Then a wigwam. What does this mean??"

"That's easy," says the psychiatrist. "You're too tense." Get it? Two tents? What...no rimshot?

Anyhow, this is apparently one of my issues when sparring in taekwondo. I'm too tense. It's my bad fortune to have the natural reaction of bracing myself for impact when I see someone's foot headed in my general direction. The result is that I'm not loose enough to react in time to counter the attack and gain a point or two in the process. My Master likens this to the fainting goat syndrome:


As unflattering as that comparison is, I need to accept his evaluation and conquer this particular weakness...preferably before my very first tournament in a week-and-a-half's time.

So, I'll hit the dojang tonight with that video playing in my mind, to remind me to keep things loose, fluid, constantly moving. And there we have the next marker on my martial arts journey ... the demise of the goat-lady.

Coupons & Samples - Oil of Olay

Wow, 2 posts in 1 day! Go, me! :D

I just wanted to post a quick link for you ladies out there who, like me, are are tired of having stupid skin issues at every stage of your life (do we ever get a break??). The Oil of Olay Canadian website has a bunch of free sample and coupon offers posted for your perusal. I don't know about you, but "fee" and "save money" are always welcome words in my world.

Enjoy!

My New Not-So-Secret Weapon

Listen up, people. I've found a product that just might save your marriage.

I first heard of Just A Drop on one of our local morning shows. It's a magical blue liquid that comes in a teeny tiny bottle. You apparently squirt one single drop into the toilet bowl BEFORE you...ummm...do your duty, and it supposedly eliminates ALL subsequent odour. The hostess of the morning show was gushing about how wonderful this product is and how unbelievably well it works.

I was just as skeptical as you are.

And then my husband started working out at the gym. And he started consuming large amounts of whey protein and various protein bars on a more-than-regular basis.

I don't know if it's because of the whey protein, or because he's missing half of a colon no thanks to a nasty brush with colon cancer, or a combination of both, but HOLY CRAP (pardon the pun) that man can clear a room! I'm talking eye-watering, blame the dog and evacuate the house kind of stink. To make matters worse, most of this extra heavy duty concentrated super-stink occurs in our en-suite bathroom. Yup, I get to wake up to this lovely aroma. Kind of like getting drunk and waking up to find yourself in a poorly maintained barn and not knowing how you got there.

Anyhow, hubby and I were wandering through the aisles of The Big Bad W store yesterday, and out of the corner of my eye I spot a tiny blue glint of colour. After several months of whey-induced stink, I've decided I'll try just about anything to protect my nose and the noses of my children. So I grabbed a bottle (which was quite reasonably priced, all things considered) and we headed for home.

Reading the ingredients list, I was quite impressed. It's made from all-natural plant extracts, so it's safe for your plumbing or sceptic systems or whatever you've got going on, although I wouldn't recommend tasting it yourself. It comes with a little holder that sticks to the wall, so you can put it right next to the toilet rather than hiding it in the medicine cabinet, and that way everyone will be more likely to remember to use it (let's face it ladies, this problem isn't restricted to the Y chromosome, although they do seem to take more pride in it than we do).

Hubby was the first to try it when we got home. He came out of the washroom and announced that he thought it worked pretty well, but would leave the final verdict up to me. Thanks, honey. I screwed up my courage and went to face the music. I was stunned. I had to ask hubby to confirm that he actually did something in there. There was no trace of any smell at all! It was magical, and it almost brought tears of joy to my eyes.

They also make these cute little travel packs so you can take it with you to work or parties or wherever you might want to avoid having to hide in your bathroom stall until everyone else leaves in disgust before showing your face.

I highly and enthusiastically recommend this product to anyone and everyone who uses a toilet. :)

The Bare Facts

Perusing the news headlines today, I came across a story about the US's First Lady, Michelle Obama, and the scandal that is her bare arms.

Apparently, there's a small uproar south of the border over the fact that Mrs. President enjoys wearing sleeveless outfits to public events.

Holy jeez, people. Get a life! It's the year 2009, not 1909, for Pete's sake. Bare arms mean nothing more in this day and age than that the woman exposing them is proud of her physique - and well she should be. Nice definition in a woman's arms is not easy to come by for a woman over the age of 40. She has to be working very hard to maintain that level of fitness, so why shouldn't she be proud of what she has and flaunt it?

The woman is beautiful in whatever she wears. She has never displayed anything other than class, poise and confidence in any pubic venue. It isn't like she's showing up at these events wearing a Hooters uniform.

I am quite glad, however, to notice that the nay-sayers are the considerably minority. I'm fairly certain that these critics are somewhat older than Mrs. Obama, and probably lean so far to the right that they've fallen over and can't get up. I'm also glad that there are a large number of very vocal supporters out there to drown out the poo-pooers.

Then again, I'm Canadian, and we tend to swing from an entirely different set of branches than our esteemed neighbours to the south. Something like this wouldn't even raise an eyebrow up here, as long as it didn't interrupt a hockey game. After all, we are the country that begot Jean Chretien ... the Prime Minister who bludgeoned a would-be burglar with a soapstone carving. Strength and Confidence are our middle names! :)

Status Update

Hey blog lovers.

I was just cleaning up my blog, deleting old, irrelevant entries, etc... So I thought I'd drop you a quick note to let you know how my fitness journey and martial arts training are progressing.

I'm excited to report that I've reached the first weight-loss milestone I had set for myself, which was to be able to buy a pair of jeans in the "regular" size clothing section of WalMart instead of the "plus" size section. OK, so I'm at the extreme high end of the "regular" sizes, and that would likely change if I was to shop in another store, but you get the picture.

Taekwondo training is progressing nicely. I'm still a green belt (had I already told you about that particular accomplishment?). I was going to test for my blue stripe at the end of this month, but I have other financial obligations at the moment that are slightly more pressing.

Next on the agenda is a tournament in March that Mini-Me and I will both be competing in. Yes, I'm a glutton for punishment. I mean, we already knew that, right? Why else would I take up a martial art when I was pushing 40 and morbidly obese?

I am absolutely terrified, naturally. Aside from the very real threat of having my butt handed to me on a platter, there's also the very PUBLIC aspect of this endeavour. It's no secret that I hate all forms of spotlight. I can't stand having my picture taken, I don't like having people look at me for any reason, I don't like having attention drawn to me (which is why I love blogging ... totally anonymous). So, yeah, naturally I'd pay a large sum of money to appear in a ring where some strange woman is trying to knock me on my ass while several people are judging my every move, keeping score, and several other people are video taping and taking pictures of the whole spectacle for posterity.

Should be a hoot.

So, wish me luck, folks. If I somehow manage to come out of this with some minute bit of dignity left, I'll come back to tell you about it.