Weddings

Last weekend I was at a wedding on the shore of a little lake, and in the distance the trees were starting to turn vibrant colours adding contrast to the black dresses and suits. The colder weather made the venue intimate and with the specter of winter approaching, the conversations just seemed so much more real. Rich colours, candles and the warmth of people coming together just speaks to me and reinforces what weddings are about. It was beautiful and moving as these two people came together to commit to each other. There was laughter, there was dancing, there was kissing and there were tears (the good kind).

But, deep down - I really don't like weddings.

I love that my friends are finding people that they want to share the rest of their lives with. I am honoured that my friends want me to be part of their public commitment to each other and to celebrate their happiness. But there is so much about weddings that just stink of Hallmark and the expectations for everything to be "perfect". Society seems to have dictated what the wedding should be and many little girls dream about what their day will be like. But no one talks about the stress that I see overcome my friends as they gear up to the "big day" or the crippling cost of feeding and watering 150 of your closest friends and family. The gray hairs that emerge while negotiating the 150 people, and the politics of the "plus one". Wedding service providers seem geared to ripping couples off (did you know if you order flowers for an event is cheaper than the same flowers for a wedding?) and the "best" venues are booked years in advance, but can make or brake your social status.

For me weddings are about watching the groom as he catches his first glance of the bride in her dress and sharing the moment with the couple. Weddings are about catching up with other friends who I haven't seen in a while, about getting out of the routine, putting on a cute dress and celebrating, they are about the toasts and the funny stories, they are about cake and flowers. But it is also a moment to be reminded who I am and where I am ... the last wedding I was at, apart from the kiddies table, I was probably the only person who did not bring a date. I have actually never had a date to a wedding and have been to a fair number now. Dances are the hardest part, no matter how happy you are for someone, watching them glow with happiness in what they have, just hammers home what you do not.

Yeah; weddings are not about me ... they are about the bride, family and friends. And my friends who have recently been married were radiant - it really was their day. Congratulations to everyone who was married this year - and to those of you whose nuptials are pending. Promise to hide my curmudgeonly bachelorette when next I raise a toast to the happy couple. 

Parables

I am sitting in the sunshine on my deck, wondering what I have learned this week. And what a week it was! Among other things, I helped organize and facilitate a day and a half all staff retreat using  which went really well, and while this was happening my new windows came and I lost my voice. These last two should have happened a little earlier so that I could have brought them with me to the retreat.

Losing my voice sucks! I have never really lost it before. I can not talk, I can barely croak. I am not really in any pain and have no other "symptoms" that might suggest other issues, like the flu or something more nefarious. So I have to choose if and when I will comment on something and pick my words more judiciously. I am more deliberate with my methods of communication, something that we should all do more. Admittedly, I am sending more e-mails when I quick conversation might suffice, but I am aware of why I choose one mode over another - something we rarely do in a world that revolves around quick answers that are not necessarily thought out completely. I am also listening! That is right - Listening. Well, when you can't interrupt someone or add anything to the conversation because no one will hear you, you listen. And you learn from this.

The other big thing were the windows. All 21 of them - and how beautiful they are. The old ones were compromised and no longer clear, but the wood around them was rotting, so they were going. Windows are a way to see into / or out of something, but be slightly removed from the situation - to observe something. The new ones remind me to look carefully and appreciate when things are clear, and to know that something a surface "wound" can be symptomatic of something far deeper. And I am wondering if the windows had not come this week I would realise (or have taken the time to think about) what I have learned from a lack of voice. I also wonder if I would have lost my voice if the windows had not come this week.

If I had have learned these lessons before the retreat, I am sure I would have been a better participant and facilitator. I do plan on bringing them to future events. But until then I am putting out an award for the safe return of my voice. It was last seen heading South on vacation, possibly to the Bahamas. I miss it - although I have heard that people at work don't! Yeah; I heard you.

Curmudgeonly Bachelorette - As much as we like to deny it, everyone thinks in stereotypes. These help us gather information about people quickly and paint a picture which we can expand over time as we get to know the "real" person. An important part of the stereotype is how we choose to portray ourselves. We accentuate certain traits to either conform to, or challenge, people's assumptions about who we are versus who we appear to be. Even if we think we are completely original, we use stereotype to help define us and we let them ... we embrace it.

In my "youth" my stereotype was the fun-loving, easy-going, serial monogamist who was always in a relationship. I did lots of fun things without my insignificant other, but when push came to shove, I always had a boy friend ... and now without this crutch, I have had to find a new stereotype. Something that helps people understand who I am. I live alone with a cat, love working, am out all hours of the day doing interesting things or sipping cocktails, and like my space and alone time.

I am settled in my ways as the Curmudgeonly Bachelorette. And now that I know my stereotype, I feel like I have a bit of a reputation to live up to!

Or do I?

I am finding that my stereotype is starting to define me. I try not to let it - but when push comes to shove, I am happy to just head home with a good book and some Ben and Jerry's ice-cream. I am slowly learning that I am not as much as a people person as I used to be and that, in reality, not only do a lot of people actually piss me off, I am willing to tell them! 

When you start to live the stereotype, it can be hard to see beyond the finale that Disney has already written for you. Try as I might, most of the stereotypes about women who live alone are not good ones; the crazy cat-lady, the bitter slighted woman, the bitchy executive who will trample everyone getting ahead. Perhaps I need to work on that stereotype.

My cleaning lady - that's right. I have one! And I love it! Exclamation points alone do not do the fact that I have a cleaning lady thing justice.

When I first started working, a friend recommended a book for me "Smart Women Finish Rich", the only financial advice book I have ever read. It was a good read and for someone who is terrible with her money an enlightening insight into how so many people are even worse with theirs. Many of the tricks on how to save I already did - I brought a lunch to work and limited the number of coffees I buy a day / week, I had a quasi budget for my regular expenses and while I was spending too much, I knew how and why I was spending it. But one tip really stuck out for me; if as a woman you make more that $60,000 (US / 2004) a year, you should have a cleaning lady.

The logic stuck me as sound, but the reality screamed decadence. As an able bodied individual, why can't I spend a few hours a week scrubbing and cleaning? Vacuuming, sweeping, dusting and mopping? Washing windows, toilets and showers? How much is my time really worth? And what am I doing on weekends anyway ... besides, it is a great workout? Hauling the vacuum up and down the stairs, reaching around the toilet, it is a mini cardio and yoga workout rolled into the comfort of your own home.

At first I refused to hire a cleaning lady because I lived with other people who were messy and I wasn't sure why my good money should pay to clean up after them. I also lived in fear of the weekends designated for a "good cleaning". I did learn that a messy house leads to stress and over-all grumpiness. Now I live alone. For people who do not know me, I am a bit of a neat freak. Everything has a place and is put away, I hate clutter and love walking barefoot on clean floors. It seemed a waste to spend money on what I thought should be a quick job.

And then one day, I popped over to pay my neighbors cleaning lady for him and my life changed. It was a whim, I admit. My parents were in town and the first thing my mother did was clean. I thought I had done a OK job - but it wasn't up to her standards. She complained about how the blinds were dusty (who has time to dust blinds?) and that my stove could do with a really good wipe-down (OK, it was a little greasy, but how do you really scrub the grim off?). Tired of her comments about my inability to clean a floor so that a five course meal could be eaten right off it, I asked the cleaning lady if she would do my house as well - and she said yes!

There is something about ever second Friday knowing that when I get home, my place will be clean. What is even better is sleeping in on Saturday morning and not having to make anytime for cleaning my house. Yes, it is totally decadent - but I am worth it. So this evening while I am admiring my wonderfully clean house, I will raise a glass to my cleaning lady.

When did gas-mileage become a pick-up line? When I started this blog, I thought I would share stories of dating in Ottawa. Needless to say I have yet to post a blog on this topic because - well - I don't think there is such a thing! I have been single for a few years and am so far removed from dating, I doubt I would know a date if it was at my door with flowers! I am not even sure what people do on dates these days or if there is anyone in Ottawa to date! When I was younger bars, clubs and class where were you met people, and the lines they would rattle off are stuff from bad jokes. Some pretense to inform me about a car, an income, or a life-style that was hardly possible at the tender age of 22.

A few years ago I tried my hand at internet dating, and the only good thing about it were the ridiculous stories that came from the experience. One was such a disaster that I didn't even get his name, or the guy who referred to himself in the third person. Not to be out done, there was the guy who believed that panty-hose was the best thing that ever came from publicly funded science (and no - he was being ironic!) Here the rhetoric was about "healthy life-styles", how often do you work out? And you play how many sports? Weekly? Wow ... and a full time job! It was intimidating enough to make even an olympic athlete think twice!

They say love finds you when you are not looking - but more important, you have to be open to it. And as much as I thought I was ready ... I was not. For the last few years something was holding me back and a text-message from a friend this week made me realise that I was finally ready. What was shocking about the text was that I felt nothing ... nothing. And that made me know, that after all this time I am can move on. And now I see them. There are some great guys in this city, and they have nice smiles, do fun things, smell nice, and some of them are even single!

When someone started boasting about gas-mileage, and someone else extolled the virtues of a car-less life-style last week, it made me stop and think. If you listen with an open heart you can often hear the hint of a pick-up line. Now I am not going to say that every friendly smile is someone trying to get with me, I am old and wise enough to know that is not the case. It has actually been happening all around me all the time, but instead of being open I scowled, avoided eye contact or turned the other. Next time someone tells me about their organic meat obsession, I will smile back! Perhaps that and my vermicompost will be enough to create opportunities that I would not have dreamed about, even from the kookiest on-line profile.

The camping trip of errors, a learning opportunity? There is a secret lake, I can't tell you were it is. It is crystal clear and the fish are friendly, there are beautiful camp sites and no booking fees. I can get there in less than three hours and then just dive into the warm waters or watch the sun set and loons play. At least, that was supposed to be what it was like ...

Growing up we didn't camp. I was a bathrobe on the back of the door kinda gal, sometimes we over nighted on our sail boat, which was my definition of hell, and there are always bugs, you are always sticky from sea water and it was a whole 48hours of no privacy with my parents. Now I am in Canada, and while I miss the ocean - I love to camp. Who knew? I am becoming a better and better camper and can tend a fire with the best of them, solo a canoe and prepare hassle-free gourmet meals on a camp-fire.

So this weekend, four of us strapped canoes to the top of two cars and drove to find this secret lake.

The thing with secret lakes is that the road is far less traveled. In fact, it was off-road for 3km, steep nasty climbs full of rocks and pot-holes, washer-board descents, tight and twisty - I felt like a rally driver. And then I missed the turning, probably doing another 1km  on the path even less traveled! Trees hung over the route and there was barely enough space for my little Civic to make it through. When I finally pull the most precarious 3-point turn of my life and found the slip-way, the canoe has slipped off the rack, scratching my roof and one wheel-well is not a very wheel-like shape, making strange sounds whenever the car moved up-and-down too much. Planning on taking the car in on Tuesday anyway - no biggie.

Unload vehicle, try and find a parking spot, and accidentally slip the front end into a sand pit! No biggie, I have dealt with worse in snow ... WRONG. Now the car is stuck. I pulled it up onto some hard-pack where my front wheels have some traction and decide to deal with it on Sunday, after all, it is a pretty good parking spot and there are almost no others. Sunday saw me digging the front wheel out of an even bigger sand trap when our efforts to extract my poor Civic went array. The entire nose ended up buried and there was nothing I could use to gain traction - especially since the nose of the car was pointed down and the "road" was up a steep incline.

Other issues this weekend, apart from my only pair of shoes breaking and having to spend the better part of 24hours barefoot around the camp-site? Well, turns out the secret lake is not so secret and by around 3pm on Saturday afternoon people where circling our little island looking for spots. We had a huge spot for the two tents, and so by 5pm, we had to "invite" one of the way-ward groups to set-up shop: 14 22year-olds with a guitar and enough alcohol to start their own shop. Some negotiating was done and for the most part they left us alone and thanks to a wind on Saturday night, they were "quiet" (apart from repeating renditions of "Zombie" by the Cranberries ... where these kids even alive when that single was released?)

But lots went right! Our site was spectacular. My tent was on a little point so both vestibules overlooked lake, we had great jumping rocks right off our site and a rope-swing off a tree where we spent hours flying through the air out into the lake. We only had bugs one night, and they were not vicious, there was a turtle checking things out yesterday morning and this morning during my morning skinny-dip, fish were nibbling my toes! The company was wonderful, the food plentiful, the loons friendly and the star numerous, and apart from worrying about my car on-and-off all weekend, it was a peaceful and relaxing two nights.

I learned a lot about not worrying about something you have no control over. Ensuring that I left the issues with the vehicle behind me to focus on not focusing was not easy. But I did it, and something told me it would be OK. It was ... after an hour of digging and my three camping buddies standing around watching, a truck finally came by - he happened to have tow-rope and after he unloaded, pulled me out. It took mere seconds. Next time I hit Canadian Tire, I will be purchasing some stuff for the scratches on my roof and a tow-rope! Lesson learned!

A water baby -  I love water. Something about being completely submerged in a large body of H2O rejuvenates me. In summer I try and just be in water and in winter I will take long hot baths, just to disengaged from everything for a while. Apart from the per chemistry of 60% of me actually being water - water gives me life. My parents associated me with water even before I was born - having met scuba diving, when my mother found out she was pregnant, she called me "Ting Hou" or "Goddess of the Ocean", and insisted that my name had the initials "T.H.".

I grew up around the ocean, and when I was small we had a sail boat and would explore the beaches, islands and coves around the South China Sea. At one point we lived less than a three minute walk from one of Hong Kong's largest beaches and I could spend hours dipping in and out of the water. There is a mystic about the ocean that lakes and rivers (no matter how high or fast) can match and nothing is nicer than falling asleep to the sounds of waves lapping a beach, or waking to the sound of storm crashes.

And now I live in land-locked Ontario ....

Late last night, after an evening rowing on the Ottawa river, I was biking home along the Rideau river. Zipping along in the almost darkness with the dampness in the air, brought on by sunset and the proximity to the river and the smell was fresh and sweet. There is something about the wonderful smell around lakes and rivers, the dampness in the air. The river was calm - mirror flat with only small ripples from where fish were coming up to feast on bugs. There was a stillness. I have learned to love fresh-water.

Ottawa is surrounded by lakes and rivers and many of them are swimable. On a hot summer Sunday morning, I can hop on my bike and be at the secret swimming spot in ten minutes. Here I leisurely drift around in the cool water for an hour either alone or with a friend. A short 45 minutes hike leads me to Meech lake, where there is a bench to watch the world go by and a wonderful sandy spot to enter the kale. There is something wonderful and refreshing about a quick dip in the cool and clear water around here and there is something even better about being able to get on a bike or hike home, without the stickiness of salt drying on my skin.

But I still prefer the ocean.