What I Learned During Lent

I gave up beer and junk food for Lent.

Maybe you heard.

Once or twice.

It's not like I'm a lush or anything. When I say I gave up beer for Lent, I'm talking about the equivalent of giving up 3 or 4 beer a week. The junk food.....well, uh....yes. I gave that up, too.

I don't always give up something for Lent. Sometimes I DO something. Like get up at 6:30 am and go for a run. In my defense, I was much younger then and had two working hips and two fewer children so it seemed less insane at the time.

Sometimes my Lenten challenge is just between myself and Jesus. But whatever it is, I try not to whine about what I'm doing or not doing because that's not what it's about. Every year I learn something about myself and work on my relationship with Jesus.

But this Lent, there was an added bonus.

For 40+ days, I didn't drink beer. I did not eat junk food. (Except for around my birthday....hey, I was turning 40. What better way to celebrate that but with a Bellini and a thick piece of cheese cake?) And guess what? In those 40+ days, I had only 1 migraine and it lasted for only a day and a half instead of the usual 3 days. And I lost 5 pounds. And I feel better.

It's like finding out diamonds aren't a girl's best friend, my favourite coffee is not ethically grown and my beautiful children write bad things about me in their diaries. Then someone punches me in the stomach and asks if I'd like a lovely cup of Earl Grey tea with the milk poured in the cup first, just as it ought to be.

So that kinda sucks.

Migraines or beer. Fat or chocolate. Feel good all day or feel good for a moment with salty dill pickle chips on my lips.

So the choice has been made. I've been shown the way. If my life is full of junk food and beer then it will also be full of migraines and jigglierer...er arms. Oh, the tangled web that is my life.

This is my compromise. Weekdays will see me walking the straight and narrow. Weekends will be filled with puppy dogs and fluffy kittens and the occasional beer. Or some baked dill pickle chips. Or the odd chocolate fondue. Or cookies or Easter eggs or pop or chips and dip or cake or.....

But today is Tuesday.

We'll see how it goes. Moderation. My new best friend or my new worst enemy?

Starbucks, You Done Me Wrong

Starbucks, you've really done it now.

You waste water by the Olympic sized pool full, you serve stale bakery products, and yet still get my money because no one makes a nice hot chai tea latte like you do.

But this is the final straw.

I sent the Husband out to buy more coffee beans after the last fiasco with my brain farts.

And he didn't come back with Yukon coffee either because APPARENTLY Starbucks isn't selling it anymore....on a regular basis, anyways. What's that suppose to mean? "It's now a seasonal release." What flipping season do you sell it? APPARENTLY not in the autumn season.

I have enough to cry about. I don't need to be shedding tears over the loss of my morning mug of steaming bold yet still mellow and balanced manna from heaven.

It was a stupid name for a coffee anyways.

But don't worry about me. I'll survive. It's the third week of October. Starbucks will have their Christmas blend out next week.

Brain Farts

I've been having a lot of these lately.

I went to buy coffee beans two days ago. I remember being in the store and looking at the shelf for the type we buy. The word "Yukon" was going through my mind. I was picturing the cute little sticker on the front of the packaging. I was looking for Yukon coffee. I couldn't find it. The clerk helped me, I thanked her. I paid for it. I left.

So yesterday morning I got the coffee beans out of the cupboard and I looked at the package and said...well, never mind what I said. The point is I was standing there holding a package of Kenya coffee beans.

Second case in point.

I was on the phone with our extended health company. The polite lady on the other end of the line asked me for my date of birth. I told her the 14th. I was born on the 17th. None of my children were born on the 14th, nor was the Husband. None of my siblings or parents were either. As soon as I said it, I thought...well, never mind what I thought. The point is I knew it was wrong as soon as I said it, but I had absolutely no idea where the number had come from or why I had said it.

As I head into my 40s, things are falling. Places are wrinkling. Areas are creaking. And now my brain seems to be wanting to get in on some of the action. It's just so amusing.

Please tell me your brain is farting too.....I'm needing some serious support here.

And don't you find that the Kenyan coffee leaves a bit of a bitter taste in your mouth?


*** update on this fabulous blog's contest!!!***

The owner of this glorious blog has kindly agreed to bake up some lovely autumn pumpkin scones, in honour of Thanksgiving Day just around the corner. SOOOOO, there will be a CHOICE for the winner!!! Pumpkin scones or some BEAUTIFUL honey smelling tea candles.

So get those comments in by Sunday, October 5th. You might be the lucky winner of a dozen pumpkin scones. Or some candles. Your choice. But you have to comment. That's the deal.

Bits and Pieces

There are no less than 38 single socks in my sock bin. I find it odd that I've counted them, and find it odder still that I cannot throw any of them out. I think I'm suffering from the phobia, "lostasockaphobia" - the fear that if you throw out a sock that has been missing its mate for 4 years, its mate will show up the next day.

I think 2 year olds should sleep past 6:15am.

I'm not a morning person.

The thought of a steaming cup of coffee in my hands is the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning, not the thought of lovingly picking up a 2 year old out of her crib. Some days I feel guilty about that. Not this morning.

I'm reading a book about how to become a writer, and it's really poorly written. I'm not just saying that. She lost me at the part where I'm supposed to lie down on the floor, cross my hands across my breast like the Lily Maid of Astolat, meditate for 20 minutes, then get up and write. "It really works." Uh, huh....

I have no idea who the Lily Maid of Astolat is, but I'm guessing I don't have the look or breast size to pull it off.

I recently finished reading, "A Thing of Beauty", by one of my favourite authors, A.J. Cronin. He writes the most brilliant descriptions of people. One of my favourites from this book -

"The drinks were brought by a strapping young woman with bare red arms and round full breasts which swung under her blouse like young coconuts."

You can't help but stop and visualize that. Come on, admit it, you just did.