communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, That girl in the red coat, Uncategorized, Women, writing

Once in a blue moon

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For anyone on any social media platform, you are well aware that yesterday was a blue full moon. I’m not usually someone who directs their life and decisions by my astrological sign and horoscope – unless it’s good news, then I’m all for it. That being said, something happened yesterday.

It was a usual slow and easy Sunday morning and I was lounging in my favorite chair. I looked over at my hubby with his bedhead – still cute after 32 years and said “I think I’ll go for a walk today or do something new, I need more whimsy in my life.”. Whimsy. Not a word I usually use, I think I’ve said it twice in my life. Yesterday, and when I framed our new thermostat with a vintage frame because it was a cute idea and also covered up the hole left by the old thermostat cover – two birds my friends, two birds. Back to the tale at hand. Hubby says he’ll come with me. We start to get ourselves together to venture out, I check my Insta as I’m waiting and there it was. A post about the effect of the blue moon for Leo’s – brings attention to joy, creativity and whimsy. Whimsy. Ok universe, message received.

My Sunday afternoon consisted of blue skies, cool breezes, sunlight, laughing with my hubby, and venturing into new stores looking for a new chair for me at my writing desk. I’ve been sitting on a circa 1930’s chair and quite frankly, my 50 year old ass can’t take it anymore. So, after 13 years, I decided it was time. What is it about us as women that we put ourselves, and as it so happens, our asses last? Another tale for another time. Anywho, I found a chair at a local business – support local when you can my friends. It swivels, it’s on wheels, it has arm rests. It doesn’t look like an office chair. It’s perfect. … and it was on sale which is even better – I love a good deal. We got home, set it up, retired the old chair to it’s original home, if front of the antique fold down desk. I spun around in my new chair a few times, looked out the window, heard the garden calling my name, grabbed my ear pods, and ventured outside.

I found myself humming along and almost dancing to the 90’s country tunes playing in my ear as I cut down the overgrowth of last year. As I stood back to appreciate my efforts, a random playlist brought me a moment of joy. Dwight Yoakam’s “Turn it on, Turn it up, Turn me loose” started to play. What’s the big deal? Well, let me tell you. The year was 1992, I had just moved in with my boyfriend – now husband. I woke up to him smiling at me, telling me to get dressed. He was taking me to Toronto to go shopping. He had $400 to spend. Just so you will know, and one day you’re children will know, $400 in 1992 was ALOT of money – hell, it is today, but I digress. After a day of following me around to all the shops, I spotted a record store. I had heard Dwight Yoakam’s music and loved it. I found his latest cassette tape, “If there was a way” – yes, I said cassette tape – Gen X here people. I looked at soon to be hubby and he smiled and took it to the counter. I listened to “Turn it on, Turn it up, Turn me loose” on repeat the whole 2 hour drive home, with a driver who hated country music. Yep. He isn’t a fan of the ol’ country twang, but he knew I loved it and wanted me to have what I wanted. Joy. Whimsy. Hmmm – even the title of the album, “If there was a way”, kind of ties this all together with a cute little bow, doesn’t it?

The point of today’s tale? Don’t let the fuckers get you down. Find your whimsy. We are being bombarded every damn day with horrific news, opinions being disguised as facts, AI telling us what’s “real”, disgusting behavior from world leaders – yeah sure, the picture was him as a doctor, not Jesus – if you know, you know.

We can’t control any of the above. We can control what we do, what we say, what we create. Be it a garden, watching the birds out your kitchen window, listening to music that fills your soul with joy, or spinning in an office chair.

beauty, health and wellness, lifestyle, Women

Shameless

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shameless – adjective – Feeling no shame, impervious to disgrace

I was scrolling my Instagram last week – no TikTok here – I’d never leave the sofa – I know this about myself – lets be honest, I was scrolling my Insta everyday last week – hence no TikTok, and by days end, I found myself bouncing between feeling dumb to feeling inadequate to feeling left behind. I’m entering the final months of my 53rd year on this earthly realm and I’m done feeling this way. Seriously, I have been feeling this way as long as I can remember. Some days it’s for a minute or two, some days, it lasts all day and seeps into the next.

We are bombarded every day, all day, with these ugly opinions cleverly disguised as facts on all social media platforms and internet ads, and don’t get me started on the AI fashion/skin care models. Even podcasts and podcast hosts telling us because we don’t drink enough greens that is the reason our life is falling apart and not using AI in your everyday life and everyday tasks will leave you alone floating on an ice flow. Oh, and protein…for the love of God, stop offering me protein. I’ve heard “You gotta try this protein powder” in my 50’s more than “You want a toke” in my teens. Ugh, and ease up on the “do you lift bro?” rhetoric. Yes, being reminded lifting is important to my aging bone health is great, I don’t need to be reminded that I’ll be the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” lady if I don’t do it everyday.

Here’s the thing I’ve come to realize – most of this shame is not mine. It’s what I think I’m supposed to feel shame about. Shame for being a stay at home Mom. Shame for going back to work. Shame for being too much. Shame for not being enough. Shame for cellulite. Shame for being too strong. Shame for being weak. Well, as I like to say, Fuck. That. Shit.

I’ve got a theory about this shame business. It may seem far fetched and if that’s what it sounds like to you, that’s fine by me, it’s just my theory/opinion. If we are all feeling shame about bodies, our lack of protein and exercise regimes, we’re focusing on those things, not world events, political decisions, what the Cheeto on Pennsylvania Avenue is up to – like I said, just an opinion.

Here’s the deal. You know that saying “before you think you’re depressed, take a look around to be sure you’re not surrounded by assholes”, I’ve got a new one for you. When the shame seeps in, look up from your phone, take a good around, and ask yourself “Who’s trying to sell me something by making me feel like failure?”. To be clear, I’m all for entrepreneurship and building a platform, side hustle or business. I do believe it can be done without the shame.

Be shameless Beauties. You’re doing the best you can today and that’s enough. Plain and simple.

… Oh, and the protein and weights will still be there tomorrow. Trust me, someone will let you know.

communication, health and wellness, Women

Price of admission

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“Discomfort is the price of admission for a good life.”

I came across this quote, I don’t remember where or said by whom. All I know is that it stopped me in my tracks. I found myself thinking of all those who came before me and paid their price of discomfort. In Canada, my great grandmother waiting until 1955 to take her grand daughters to the library to get their library card – the first time a girl or a woman could get a library card without her father’s or husband’s signature. 1955. Women going to the doctor in 1969 – when birth control was decriminalized. 1969. Women walking into a bank in 1974 to get their own credit card, without needing their father’s or husband’s signature. 1974. Two years after I was born.

It got me thinking of what price am I paying? I’ll be 54 this year. In my life, I’ve always been able to vote, have my own bank account, my own credit, my own car. I’ve had the choice to be a mother. I’ve had the choice to work. All because of the discomfort of those who went before me.

I like to believe it’s partly because of them that I speak my mind. Not only because they made sure my voice could be heard, but that they are always with me, surrounding me when my voice starts to shake when I speak my mind. That they were with me when my grade 5 gym teacher said girl’s couldn’t hit a ball that was pitched to them and needed a t-ball stand, to which I kicked it over and shouted “Pitch it!” and as God is my witness, I hit a homerun – they were with me. They were with me when my grade 10 science teacher told me that it was okay that I didn’t understand the experiment because “I was a girl and girl’s don’t need to understand science.” to which I shouted “I need to go to the office and call my parents about what you just said”. – needless to say, I didn’t call my parents, he looked like he shit his pants after I said that – they were there. When I sold cars and a man asked me to sit in his lap on the test drive (happened more than once) and I looked him square in the eye and said “let’s call your wife to see if it’s okay with her” – they were there.

It’s our time to be there for women. All ages. All countries. We’re at a tipping point. Yes, women are making strides on a global scale, in sports, in government, in finance – take your pick, we are rockin’ it. Yet, it’s 2026 and I still walk to my car with my keys between my fingers. At least once a week a man is surprised that I know, well, anything other than how to remove a stain and make a casserole. At least once a week I meet a man who has no problem with, Roe vs Wade getting overturned or the Voting Acts being rescinded. For Christ’s sake, The White House had a press conference for Dr. Oz to tell us that women in the U.S. are “under babied” – a fine example of a man who’s never been told to shut the fuck up. My great grandmother was a fine lady and she would agree with my sentiment.

It’s time, as John Lewis said, to make some good trouble. It’s time for a little discomfort. We need to be there for each other as our mothers, aunts, and grandmothers were there for us.

health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, That girl in the red coat, Women

Life Preserver

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I don’t know about you all, I feel like I have been bouncing between treading water to just keeping my head above water. Between the news, the world events, menopause, being a member of the sandwich generation, the patriarchy and fascism rearing it’s ugly head, it is easy to feel like we are drowning. I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t written in a while. There are many reasons, mostly because whenever I sat to write I was either overcome with “who gives a shit” or I would just type the word “Fuck” over and over.

Last week I had a meltdown. My poor husband getting to be the soul audience member of my snot nosed, ugly cry temper tantrum/fit/ stomp fest 2026. He sat quietly, let me say what I needed to say ( thanks to 30+ years of marriage, he now knows just to let me go and I will return to myself, I just need a minute.). He asked me if talking to someone would help. I admitted I’d thought about it, therapy saved my spirit in my teens, truly. Then I said something out loud that I’d only been thinking. “I think I need to start writing again.” . So here we are my beauties.

Also, thank you to all who have been continuing to read my past words, somedays this little blog of mine gets 100 views. When I shared this news with certain people who I now know may not be my people, they said that the views are bots or AI reading my words. I realized that I was allowing their words to feed the wrong wolf. I started this blog to help myself and others feel better about themselves, how to use their hair products. It began to morph into something else at the same time. A how to be kind, or not to be an asshole – take your pick. Most of my past posts that have been getting attention as of late are those exact ones – about kindness, about hope, about how not to be an asshole.

So, this little blog of mine is slowly getting a revamp. A life preserver for yours truly and in turn for you, that is my hope. I believe truth is beautiful, and taking the time to tell those you care about when they are awesome and when their assholery is showing. There is still so much good in the world, yet we are bombarded with the ugly. “Look for the helpers” – I’m going to try to take a page from Mr. Rogers play book – although my language is more like Mr. Robinsons – those of us over 40 will get the SNL reference.

Know this. It’s okay to want to scream into the void. It’s okay to be looking around wondering what the actual fuck is happening. It is okay to weep for the world, for the loss of human rights, the overturn of Roe vs Wade, the corruption of government. It is okay to feel rage because this is not the world we wanted for our children – seriously, I apologize to my daughter at least once a week for the state of the world – another tale for another time. It is okay to get down – it is not okay to let those bastards keep you down. The ways we slowly get back up? Give to your local food bank. Check in on your neighbours. Feed the birds. Get outside and stare at the clouds. Share the good news with the not so good. Laugh. Laugh. Laugh. Be silly. Rest.

We truly are in this together. It’s one world. Lets keep each other afloat.

communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, parenting, Uncategorized, Women, writing

Chapters

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It’s been hot minute since I last posted, literally. This past summer has been one of the hottest on record and not just because of menopause. Mother Nature must be in her 50’s this go around for it’s 30 degrees Celsius (that’s HOT for my American readers) on the 5th of October. With the change of season, on the calendar at least, I find myself pondering change. These past years have seen more changes for yours truly than my mood before doing some hard internal work and getting some good ol’ hormones. While pondering all the changes, I came across a quote that hit the mark – “Don’t judge me based on the chapter of my life you arrived in.”.

I celebrated my 53rd birthday in this earthly realm this past August. I celebrated with my mother, at a local grocery store, as I was her wheels for most of the summer as my father recovered from open heart surgery. Mom even joked “Isn’t this better than some party?”. Actually, it kind of was. Dad’s heart wasn’t in the best shape and it was a 6 hour surgery with 14 hours on a ventilator and a 2 week hospital stay. Knowing my 53rd birthday very well could have been one person short, I was quite content to be at a grocery store with my momma on my birthday and arriving at their front porch to see Dad smiling as I brought in the groceries.

These past months I’ve found myself looking at strangers wondering what chapter they are in. Are they beginning one? At the end of one? In the thick of one? I find myself being more patient – those who know me well have just fell off their chairs. Recovering from heart surgery is not for the faint of heart – pun intended. Everyday I kept having the same thought – what do people do who are on their own? I found myself wanting to scoop up all the lone patients and bring them home like some kind of stray puppy. Yes – I realize – kind of co-dependent – I’m working on it. Wondering if one could be co-dependent with the Universe? You found your girl, well, at least I used to be your girl, slowly closing that chapter and trying to begin the next one. Back to the tale at hand. While passing the patients, the families, the hospital staff, I found myself wondering who they were? What was their day like? Were they scared? Were they at peace? Which chapter was this for them? Was it their last? Are they wondering the same thing about me? I found myself hoping they were, because if they’re wondering about others, there is hope for us all after all.

If this past chapter has taught me anything it’s this, we have no say, no control of anything except ourselves, there’s been a few days I’ve forgotten that. Also, you cannot rewrite or edit yourself into or out of anyone else’s chapter, no matter how hard you try – trust me, I know of what I speak. Being a recovering co-dependent menopausal GenXer is such fun.

I’m not even going to go into what’s happening in the world. We are all very well aware and that is another chapter for another day. That being said, taking a moment to remind yourself that the chapter you are arriving in may not be the best chapter to judge others right now may be the best thing you can do for yourself and others.

beauty, health and wellness, Women

Sticks and Stones

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We all know the childhood chant “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me.”. Oh, how I wish that were true. There has been many a moment I would have taken a blow to the gut rather than an unkind or untrue phrase spoken. Physical bruises heal. Emotional ones, when it comes to healing, those suckers move at a turtles pace. I am 46 years old and there are still some words I cannot erase from my mind.

We’ve all heard them, I am sorry to say. We’ve been called a liar, useless, fat, ugly…you name it, at some point in our lives, someone has uttered these words to us, and sadly, we have uttered them to ourselves. What I find the most heartbreaking is when we let someone else’s words begin to define us. I admit, I have fallen victim to this, in the past and even in the present. I was beginning to listen to the shouts of self doubt that were unfortunately being boosted up by the words of others. Then one night, after a shit show of a day, I sat down in bed and looked over at a journal I had been given years ago. It’s Tiffany blue and embossed in gold were the words “be happy”. I reached over, cracked it open and began to write. I wrote how I feeling, what I was thinking. After, I felt better. My feelings were still hurt, I was still confused about what to do, but I felt better. The next night before bed, I wrote again. I have continued to do so each night. That’s the wonderful thing about writing in a journal, you get the questions out of your head and sooner or later, answers appear.

When I was younger, I heard my mother say something to a friend of hers that was going through a difficult separation “we hate in others what we hate in ourselves.”. I found myself writing that phrase in my journal. I also remember as a child being told “when you point a finger, there are three pointing back at you.”. While writing last night, I finally got it. I stepped outside of myself and took a good, hard look at the lives of those around me who haven’t been the nicest as of late. They are all going through something. Be it trouble at work, trouble with family, battling some inner demon, even battling addiction. I came to realize that when they were pointing the finger at me, they were also pointing it at themselves. To be clear, there is no excuse for hurtful words or actions. What I am saying is trying to understand where they are coming from may bring you some peace. I am well aware that I am not a saint. I have had my moments that I took the low road and went for the jugular. Over the years I have made a commitment to myself not to behave that way. I do my best to listen and understand. I will take whatever is coming to me, if I deserve it.

We all get angry. We all get down on ourselves. We all get frustrated with life, family, work, you name it. I think we should all be allowed to feel whatever we are feeling. I do not believe we should be allowed to be mean about it. There is no reason for that, there is no honor to yourself or the other person. Saying hurtful things for the sake of argument is childish. Plain and simple. I have come to feel sorry for those who have been hurtful for hurtful’s sake. In the wee small hours of the morning, for the rest of their lives, they will have to live with the fact that they purposefully hurt someone they love. That is something I wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

There is always a chance for kindness. As hard as it may be to do, we can stop saying something hurtful before we start. We can take a breath. When you feel like lashing out, take a moment to remember what you would do if you heard another person speaking this way. If you wouldn’t allow another person to speak in a hurtful way in your presence, maybe you shouldn’t either.

 

health and wellness, lifestyle, Parenting past 15, That girl in the red coat, Women

Find your path

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I woke up this morning feeling lost. Wondering what the hell was I doing with my life? I know I talk a big game but I too suffer from the midweek blahs as I like to call them. Maybe it’s the planets in retrograde. Maybe it’s my lack of exercise. Maybe it’s hormones. Yes, I had a hysterectomy 9 years ago, but I still have my ovaries, so it could be hormones…the joys of womanhood in your forties. So, I plopped myself with a pout and my coffee in hand into my favorite chair and started scrolling through my feeds. I came across a post that I instantly shared via my Instagram story, Instagram feed and Facebook page. Reader’s Digest version – it spoke of patience and that what you need and desire for a feeling a free life will come. It will come. To be gentle with yourself.

My struggle with life is more of a professional one. Many paths are inviting me to stroll down them. Honestly, I am done with strolling down paths others have laid out before me. I know that is why I am feeling the way I am today. I have been taking the easy road lately. I have been choosing the comfortable options. I know better, but have not been doing better – hence today’s tale. I made myself sit down and write today. I have been blogging for 6 years now, but for some reason it began to scare me. My mind filled with thoughts of worrying about what others will think, worrying that others will think my blog has no format or flow. …and just as those thoughts almost overtook my courage this gem by Tayna Markul came across via P!NK’s Instagram

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…so here I am, speaking my truth instead of trying to be good.

 

Admitting our truths is scary. Trying to be good, hell, it’s frightening. Trying to be good is faking it, and I am done with faking it. My life isn’t all moonlight and roses. No one’s is…and that’s okay. So, here’s a little another nugget to help you have a better day and find your path, the one you choose, not the one chosen for you.

  • for those going through a separation or divorce – there is no shame to be felt. Be gentle with yourself – it just didn’t go as you had hoped
  • for those scorned by love – keep loving. Keep believing in love – if you don’t believe it can exist, it cannot find it’s way to your door
  • for those whose children are struggling with mental health issues – it’s not your fault, it is nothing to be ashamed of, it’s okay to talk about it and it’s okay to be frustrated by it.
  • it’s okay to love someone and not like them at the same time
  • it’s okay to want more – it’s not okay to punish others because you don’t have more
  • if you want something, you gotta do the work
  • if you want something, be okay with being scared
  • no one, I mean no one has all their shit together.

Stop comparing your life to the lives of others. Right now I am back at my old job. Shoe sales. My old employer asked me to come back, so I did. On my terms, with a schedule that works best for me. When I was first offered the position I thought “what will people say?” …then I remembered the opinions of others don’t pay my bills. My life is my life. Your life is your life. We are all just trying to get through and trying to matter.

Do what you have to do until you can do what you want to do. Stop trying to be good. Feel the fright, embrace it and find your path. Plain and simple.