In about 40 years…..

28 03 2010

Dan and I went to Kelowna this weekend and bought ourselves a travel trailer. YAY! No more tent sex. Er, I mean, YAY!!!! Camping will be so much better now!

Anyway, we were fantasizing about the massive 5th wheel pull-outs that are available nowadays, with room for quads and motorbikes, kayaks and climbing gear… So you’re free to head out in the boondocks, enjoy the great outdoors while sitting back and watching your 40 inch HD Plasma TV in front of your blazing gas fireplace. I shit you not. Some of those trailers were nicer than my house.

Well, that got my brain rolling around the idea of retirement. What will we (as in our “Generation X”) be like in retirement communities? How will Senior Centers look in about 40 years?

Forget canasta and shuffleboard…. I envision 80’s theme nights with AC-DC blasting out, a bunch of saggy-pants gray haired old codgers playing games in a futuristic gaming room. Or Saturday nights might consist of a bunch of old ladies drinking wine and reminiscing about sexcapades in the olden days. Yoga in the day room. Vegetarian options on the menu…. We’ll shake our wobbly chins at each other and bemoan about the current generation being a bunch of pansy-asses. Why, in our day, we will say, WE didn’t have flying cars. We drove our cars ON THE ROADS…. In fact, we remember the days before ATM’s and iPods and the internet. We will remember the days long ago without 700+ TV channels. We will remember an Earth with polar bears. (Insert sad face here.)

Catering to the senior citizens of the future will NOT mean polyester elastic waist band pants. (I hope….) It will mean having a population over the age of 75 that began the whole environmental movement. It could mean we won’t be satisfied with Sunday family visits and blaring television and dinner served at 4 pm. I think know we will still be who we are, only with more wrinkles and less hair. We’ll still love technology, good movies, great music. We’ll still eat pad thai and sushi. We will still question government, and try our hardest to protect our planet. We’ll still love dirty jokes and throwing around the F bomb when we’re pissed off. We will still be who we are.

Of course we will. We will define old age in our own way. The way we define ourselves right now. It’s a weird and daunting thing to think of, being old. But in it’s own unique way, it’s not something to fear, but to think “Bring it on”… I’m gonna kick Old Age’s ass!!!!





The Shiz My Kids Say

20 03 2010

So the other day, the kids and I were driving into town. For whatever reason, we started talking about company logos and I was asked what the little TM that’s beside certain logos stood for.

I said “Trademark” and launched into an obviously very boring tirade about what trademarking was.

Then Elisabeth said “Hmmmm. I thought it stood for Toilet Mush.”

….and then we laughed for the next five minutes straight.





Up The Hoop…

10 03 2010

This little story is dedicated to two of my dearest friends, Cam and Ab. I grew up with these two, and had some of the funnest times ever with them.

If memory serves me right, we were barely in our twenties, and went to Ab’s place one night for some take-out and beers. Then we decided we needed to rent a flick and kick back and relax. At the video store, we then decided it would be a hoot to rent a porno. (Please, y’all, remember this was PRE-INTERNET…. the days of yore when porn needed to be *gasp* rented or bought, not surreptitiously downloaded late at night…..)

Ab was too embarrassed to go in the back room, so Cam and I ventured forth for some shits and giggles. Those were the days when the cover of the video was on display, boobs and leering expressions, the men were fuzzy chested and had the typical pornstache. Boob jobs were just coming into vogue, so many women had natural breasts. Even the idea of a Brazilian was mostly unheard of back in the olden days.

We perused the assortment, nothing really catching our eye until… BAM…. We saw it. Instinctively we both knew what the other was thinking. Amongst giggles and snorts, we rushed to the counter with our prize and left the video store, refusing to let Ab in our little secret.

Back at the apartment, we put the VHS tape (oh yes… the kind you have to rewind….) and settled back to have ourselves a good laugh.

Ab, unknowingly the soon-to-be butt of our jokes (literally) was ready for some good laughs too. On the screen, a round bum came in to focus, and was, well, getting it up the back door.

Ab leaned back, as we all started to laugh, and she said “Some lucky chick is getting it up the hoop.”

Then the camera pulled back and revealed two men going for it.

Seriously, you guys…. I have never seen a more shocked look on anyone’s face as I saw on Ab’s.

Now, you’re all thinking, “Yaaawwwn”, been there, done that, who hasn’t seen any manner of porn out there. And you’re right…. What with 2girls1cup out there, the shock value of pornography has been lost. But this was, like, 1990 or 1991. When acid washed jeans and big hair were still cool.

So, yeah, that was our foray into gay porn. Good times, y’all. Good times.

I’m thinking I should rename this post 3girls1video… Thoughts?





Dearest Yoga,

4 03 2010

Have I told you lately how much I love you?

My friend, who also happens to be my teacher, sometimes calls it “Kissing The Mat”… And, oh,¬† I do love that expression. I have not been on the mat too much the last little while. (I blame the Olympics… LOL!!) Much like a devoted Catholic avoiding Mass, I feel the lure and draw of rolling out my length of prayer-filled devotion if I have missed my practice for too long.

What’s that? Oh, yes… I pray on my mat. Without getting into the religious aspect and argument too much, yogis pray through their practice. It might sound unconventional to some, it probably sound flaky to others. It can conjure up ideas for certain people that we (we, as in people who practice yoga) are just a bunch of chanting, stretchy-pant wearing weirdos that bend and contort their bodies into unnatural shapes for “Transcendental Enlightenment”. (By all means, please say that in your mind the way Apu from The Simpson’s would say it… Because I do!!!) We are seen by many that it’s a trendy thing to do. After all, Madonna¬† (I’m talking about the Madge before dating a young Jesus and getting her ghastly rope-arms) proudly announced her love of the practice, long before her devotion to Kabbala mysticism. Many flocked to impromptu yoga classes, hoping to become one with her ideology, and perhaps vainly wanting to be able to say “Oh, yes, I practice yoga….” to their much-oblivious and perhaps ignorant friends.

But here’s the thing. Yoga is not just about the postures, the poses, the asanas. Yoga is so much more than I can ever explain to you. Yoga is so much more than getting a fantastic ass from holding Warrior Pose for a minute each time.

Yoga is a connection between heart, body and soul. Every time I roll out my mat, the end result is not so much the physical well-being, but my spiritual well-being. The bonus, of course, is wicked definition in my muscles, looking good in a bikini, having a hot ass and knowing it. And truthfully, and humbly, I accept that that is a huge means to the end in my own life. I have an ego. I admit it.

Ironically, through my yoga practice, that is what I am learning to overcome, among many, many other things in my own Self. To reflect deeply inward. To become more aware. To love more. To appreciate and let go more. To honour myself and others more. And, wow. What an amazing trip that is. To acknowledge my own weaknesses and be totally okay with it….. Call that God, Buddha, my inner blue pearl, the Universe, Love, The Beloved… whatever name you have for it, it’s found it’s path to me through my mat. I am a much kinder, more forgiving person this way. I am stronger. I am more humble and accepting.

And yeah. I chant. I sing OM with a chorus of others in my class. The resonance it stirs in my heart is very much like a Gregorian chant in an ancient cathedral, so much like a rousing rendition of a hymn sung in a southern church, so much like Natives in a pow-wow. The end result is the same. That the sound echoes in my heart, it levels my peacefulness. It simply is a chord that brings awareness to my soul.

It’s not for everyone. But selfishly, I wish it were, so that the joy and abundance I have received from my practice could be experienced by everyone.

I will leave you with my favorite mantra. Sung by Deva Premal, it’s called the Gayatri Mantra.