Just Say No

A couple of months ago I was having a chat with Lunchtruck about a planned clothes shopping expedition to Robson “Strasse”. Neither one of us are big on crowds, shopping, insipid salesweasels, tourists or the accompanying desire for an M16, so so this trip had to be strategized with military precision in order for us to go through with it. Anyhoo, I made some off-hand comment about the princesses of Robson Street and how “Half of them look like they’ve been done up with a BeDazzler from the 80’s.”

Well!

Apparently I dated myself when I said that.

In my defense I was a kid then – I vaguely remember it….

So today I was reminded of this conversation when I passed a lovely girl wearing a herringbone patterned coat.

As I got closer I realized her lapels were laden with jewels, as was her oversized bag. The only thing not completely blinding me was the fuschia of her Holt’s bag, and that’s mostly because I’m used to seeing those around here.

I fully expected to see her wearing knee-high suede black boots with turned down cuffs. I looked down and… yep.

Damn I hate predictability.

Grateful for Sunshine

It’s been a hell day. One of those days when edginess is a bad thing, not a hip thing. Between computers being obtuse, people even more so, and printers having themselves hissy fits, it could have been all too easy to let the beginnings of my bad mood snowball.

I opted to go outside instead, with the hope that a dose of sunshine and some green and growing things might help ease me into a less cranky place.

This place worked its magic. I know it doesn’t look like much,but believe me, there’s something about a little bird song, the sound of the wind brushing through the leaves, and the sounds of someone singing in their office that just made the day that much brighter.

Perhaps because I’ve been listening to some of the older music from my collection lately, one of my favourite songs from Bridge Over Troubled Water popped into my head at the height of the afternoon madness, and kept playing over and over in my personal sound track:

“In the clearing stands a boxer,
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev’ry glove that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains…

A few times this past week I’ve considered just saying “I am leaving” to many things… and yet I remain, using what’s at my disposal to stay centred, stay positive, and look for the beauty.