Once Upon A Time There Was A Thing Called Pandy...

 

Hi.

These photos were taken in April of 2020... when the pandemic was just a baby. 

Each country was in charge of parenting their own pandemic. For argument's sake, I'm gonna call it "Pandy". In the beginning, each parent needed to get to know Pandy and develop strategies on how to handle it. Some were strict from the start, establishing and enforcing clear boundaries. Some neglected it, pretending Pandy could parent itself. The rest fell somewhere in between.

Pandy went through toddlerdom, throwing tantrums, smashing everything that got in its path. It destroyed lives, devastated economies, and planted tiny legos in the toes of every boot of mental health. It would take naps under supervision, but the second any parent turned their back it would run rampant through the aisles causing chaos in every way possible. 

Then puberty hit. It exhausted every parent with its constant pushing of boundaries, sneaking out, going where it shouldn't, demanding independence and freedom. It started hanging out with rough crowds who let it do whatever it wanted. Pandy started running away. Often. Parents found it even harder to keep track of Pandy, her new 'friends', where they were going, and what they were doing. The parents became exhausted, even the friends became wary, the only one who wasn't tired was Pandy.

You see, Pandy doesn't know or care or even register the swath of destruction it creates. It's just being Pandy. Incapable of being anything else. Some parents along the way tried pretending that Pandy wasn't Pandy, but a myth. That Pandy wasn't Pandy, but a softer, gentler, sweeter creature who couldn't hurt you, at least not badly. But, alas Pandy was, indeed Pandy, through and through. 

As Pandy matured, they began to slow down. All of the parents were becoming smarter, having had time to develop an understanding of Pandy, finding more ways of keeping it from hurting people, at least fatally. 

As we look forward to Spring, as the temperatures rise, as the trees bud, and flowers bloom, Pandy is reaching the end of the line, soon to join their cohorts, Polio, Small Pox, and many others. 

Once Pandy is ushered into the land of Past History Horrors, we will finally be able to take a full breath.

Imagine a world where we can once again hug people. A world where we can gather, and cheer, eat, drink and be merry. Imagine being able to see people, go places, and do things without worrying about getting anyone sick. 

Imagine. We are almost there. It's only a vaccine away. 

If enough of us get vaccinated we can put this whole thing in the rearview mirror.

Bye Pandy. It's been shitty knowing ya, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

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So another thing...

I just don't get it.

Okay, another week has gone by and the United States has yet another mass shooting making international headlines.

It's gotten to the point where soon it will be much harder to vote in the States than it is to buy a gun.

I keep hearing references comparing guns to cars. Comparing shooters to drunk drivers. Blah Blah freakin' Blah

You have to have a license to drive a car. You have to keep it up to date. You have a driving record that tracks how safe you drive. It's called a driving abstract. You have to register and insure a car. There are all kinds of restrictions regarding cars like seat belts, speed limits, where you can and can't park your car. Everything you do with and in a car involves safety parameters. There are emissions regulations, cars capable of speeds in excess of what is safe for public roads are only driven by experts. Cars were not created, designed, or invented as a tool to kill. That is literally and absolutely the only reason guns exist. 

It's an idiotic comparison. 

The ideology that more guns will somehow lessen death by gun is insane. 

Just look beyond your borders, America, you might have to put your head out of your butt for a second, but do yourself that favour and just take a look around you. 

Of course, I know it's not ALL Americans. It's not even MOST of Americans. It's not even CLOSE to MOST of Americans, but for the gun-obsessed few, the ones that seem to have a vice grip on the balls of legislators, it's time you come to grips with the fact that these military guns you fetish about have been the killing tools of choice in killing your neighbours, parents, kids, wives, husbands, brothers, sisters, and friends.

No, they don't do it by themselves. They need humans to pull the trigger. But maybe, just maybe if it had been just a bit harder for that human to buy that gun, maybe if they had needed a license to own it, maybe if they had to prove they were responsible enough to own it, stable enough to use it. Maybe if he, if they, hadn't been able to buy a gun that is capable of spewing high caliber bullets at the speed of light. Maybe, just maybe people that weren't dead two weeks ago would still be here. Maybe they would be home with their families right now, or at work, or walking their dogs, or giving manicures, or buying groceries. 

Just maybe...

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One last thing...

"Not all men" just stop it already. 

Not all dogs bite... but they can.

Not all bears will slice you to bits...but they might.

The mix of toxicity and fragility in the messages of the over-defensive males is breathtaking.

Real men will be able to look back at past behaviors and see them through a new lens. A much clearer one. One that shows a different point of view.

Real men will genuinely want to gain understanding.

Real men will call out others, even amidst a group of bros and a few beer.

Real men aren't threatened at the thought of equality.

Real men are happy to rid themselves of every sense of entitlement to a woman's time, conversation, smile, or body. 

Be real.

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 Until next time...

May we all get to a place of more trust, a place of more peace, a place of more kindness, a place of humanity.

May we become more trustworthy, peaceful, kind, and humane, better for having gone through this insanity.

May we strive to create joy, build memories and construct moments we will one day look back upon and cherish.

May we once again hang out, break bread, and play some smack-talking backyard games that are always oh so fair-ish.

May we go back to living our lives out loud, piecing back together what was left in shatters

May we go forward living life better, brighter, with a true understanding now, of what really matters.

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If you're looking for a good read with a kick-ass female lead and wouldn't mind supporting yours truly, check out the link below. You are but a couple of clicks away from a hell of a ride...

https://www.amazon.ca/Once-Broken-Margy-Reid-ebook/dp/B071HTFTX6/ref=sr_1_2?dchild=1&keywords=once+broken&qid=1616727216&sr=8-2

(Also available on Kobo.)

https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/once-broken-1

Chocolate Covered Therapy...

 

Okay, I know, more baking...

So this week has been less than stellar for a myriad of reasons, some of which I'll touch on, some of which fall under the category of 'not my story to tell.' 

Feeling a bit helpless, sad, angry, and frustrated, sooooo..... baking.

Chocolate-covered peanut butter cookies, s'mores bites, and apple cobbler, not a bad morning's worth of therapy. 

Personally, I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but thankfully my hubby does, and things can be frozen for when we can have company and feed people again. 

So, on to the things I'll touch on...

I can't wrap my head around the fact that yet another white man felt entitled to walk into some buildings and kill people. He walked into salons, a few different ones, and just killed people. Female people. Six of the eight he slaughtered, female people of Asian descent.

The "reasons"?

1. Fed up with the virus, had a bad day, and this is what he did. 

2. Has a sex addiction and was ridding himself of temptation.

This guy was legally able to purchase a gun.

Somehow, at the time of these writings, these murders have yet to be called a hate crime. 

With the horrible explosion of violent, racially charged incidents aimed at the Asian community since the beginning of the Pandemic, thanks to the hate speech of the Asshat that formerly resided in the Whitehouse, the fact that this was a hate crime is a no-brainer. Anyone with any semblance of common sense can see that. 

He's fed up with the virus? So? Aren't we all?

Sex addict? This one is so lame, so ridiculous, it doesn't even deserve a rebuttal. 

If this guy skates, they better not be surprised at the backlash that will inevitably follow, and rightfully so. 

Another thing I'll touch on...

I received some responses to last week's ramblings. 

Some, from women wanting to tell their truths, share their stories, searching for a way to reclaim their power.

A few responses came from men. Decent men, trying to educate themselves, trying to understand.

The majority of responses though, came from an all-too-familiar type of man. The fragile, 'not all men' guys who want to put the onus of women's safety on women. On women. Not the men who attack them, follow them, stalk them, harass them, assault them, no, not them.

To those men...

Instead of trying to dictate how we dress... talk to your buddy who leers.

Instead of telling us to stay home at night, why don't you stay home? What, you don't like having the way you like to do things dictated to you? Hmmmmm

Instead of telling us not to drink, maybe you should stop being predatory toward women who are out just trying to have a good time. 

Instead of telling us to be polite, remember politeness doesn't require our phone number, a smile, a conversation, or anything else. We owe you nothing. 

Instead of telling us all the tips to keep from being attacked, stop attacking us. 

We know the tips and tricks to stay as safe as possible. We've had to learn because of you. 

The point is, we shouldn't have to. That's it. Full stop. 

We do all of the things. It happens anyway.

It has nothing to do with what we wear. where we are, what we are doing, or what time of day it is.  Women who are attracted to other women don't do what predatory men do regardless of clothing, location, activity, or time of day. 

Another thing to touch on...

Please get vaccinated. Consider yourself lucky if you live in a place where a vaccine is available. Consider yourself even more lucky if you have it available to you for free. Understand your privilege and don't crap all over it. 

There is no logic behind not getting the vaccine. 

Yes, it's new. But so is the virus. At one point the polio vaccine was new too.

Yes, it was quick. Thankfully the science and technology exists to help make vaccine research, development, trials, and distribution way faster than it used to be. You're not trying to run your computer with a processor from 1997, are you? Neither are they. Think about how your own personal tech has evolved. When you do, it's easier to understand how they are able to do what they do with the resources available to them. 

The vaccine is the fastest way to the other side of this thing. There have been enough casualties of this particular war, the vaccine is our best way to ensure that there will be no more. I don't know about you, but the mere thought of needing to send condolences to one more person who has lost someone to this virus makes my soul ache.

Too many have been taken. Shouldn't we do everything we can to stop it from taking more? 

The shortest route from where we are to where we want to be is through vaccines.

It's not too much to ask. Get the vaccine. Whichever one is available to you. Please. 

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Until next time...

For dear friends mourning a casualty of this war.

May you hold on to the best of him, wear it like a sweater to keep you warm.

May the tears wash your soul of the pain, leaving the serenity of the calm after the storm.

May you find what you need to carry on in a way that would make him smile.

May you find the time to sip some homemade wine, play some cards, sit a while. 

May he be in peace, a full life, well-lived, he's earned his right to rest. 

May he do so knowing that as a man, as a dad, as a human, he was one of the good ones, one of the very best. 

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You Are A Warrior... Lift Your Eyes And Walk Like One.

 

Hi!

So....Women's Day.

Let me preface this whole thing, all of the words that are about to spew from my fingertips, let me preface them with this. I know not all men are predatory. Ok? I know. So, if you are a man and, after reading this, entertain the thought of coming at me all defensive, aggressive, and/or abusive, just know that in doing so, you are demonstrating my point to the nth degree. 

As a human female that has walked this planet for 55 years, having had jobs in a variety of sectors, I can tell you firsthand that I have had to physically defend myself from either co-workers, customers, bosses, and/or strangers more times than I care to count. 

The sleazy remarks, the smarmy looks, the completely inappropriate 'banter' that we are conditioned to laugh off is not even the half of it. This doesn't take into account the 'accidental' pressing into you, the cornering in private spaces, the reaching up skirts, down shirts, and full-on butt/boob/vagina grabbing. The ugly words don't take into account the stalking, the intimidating, the threatening, the pressure. 

We shouldn't have to teach our girls to defend themselves from men. But, here we are.... still. We should be doing a better job of teaching men. Men need to learn, unlearn, and relearn a lot of things.

For example:

We don't need or want strangers to comment on our looks, or talk to us, or sit by us, or walk beside us. If we would like to talk to you we will. 

Sexual jokes/comments/questions etc are never okay in the workplace. Nope. Not. Ever. Even if we laugh it off, it's out of discomfort, not because you're funny. I promise. 

Get over your entitlement. We don't owe you anything. Not a smile, not a giggle, not a conversation, not a kiss, not sex, anything. Period.

Stop touching us, unless you are invited to do so. And I mean a real invitation, not one you've concocted in your head. Not some misinterpreted look, not an invitation twistedly assumed by what we are wearing, a real, actual invitation. 

Stop blocking our way, literally and figuratively. Stop positioning yourself in our path in hallways, doorways, aisles. We get it. You are bigger, likely stronger, and can probably physically overpower us. We get it. We don't need that fact so obviously demonstrated to us. We live with that knowledge every freakin' day, everywhere we go. It's not charming, it's not cute, regardless of your intent. 

If a woman tells you she is not interested, believe her. She may try to be polite, try not to hurt your feelings, she may be afraid of retaliation, none of this means she is somehow secretly really interested and if you just push long enough she'll somehow become magically into you. Remember, she owes you nothing. Check your entitlement. 

All it boils down to is simple respect. That's it. 

As the world sits at this moment, in the year 2021 women are still being held responsible for things they shouldn't.

At work, the bar is often set higher, and unbalanced. Men are still rarely, if ever, denied promotions because they become parents or are of the age where they are likely to become parents. They are rarely asked how they are balancing work and kids. Men still make more money for doing the same job in way too many places. 

At home, women are still, far too often judged by how their home is kept in comparison to men. How clean it is, if dishes are undone if laundry is piled up. How often do you hear the judgment that a man is not very good at keeping house? Never, that's how often. Women still do most of the heavy lifting when it comes to meal planning, getting groceries, scheduling, paying bills, household chores, and in a lot of cases, parenting. Even if the men help, it's just that... help. Why is getting things done up to the women, why are we responsible? The fact that women, in this day and age, are still having to make honey-do lists so their men know what needs to be done is ridiculous. Again, I'm well aware it's not all men, but you know who you are. Learn guys, and do better.

In the world, in schools, everywhere really, females are still being held responsible for men's behavior. What we wear, if we drink, how we walk, where we walk, what time we walk, if we wear our hair in a ponytail (makes you easier to grab), how we respond or don't respond to unwanted contact, all of it supposedly has some mystical effect on men, making them lose all sense of decency, respect and relieves them of all accountability. 

Do we still live in a world where my granddaughters will need to learn all of the tools and behaviors to defend themselves against predatory men? Unfortunately, yes. Does it have to stay that way? Well, men, that's your responsibility. 

For the females. You don't have to put up with this crap. Not any more. You... we... never should have. Use your voices, use your brilliance, stake your claim in the world, take up space. Demand respect for your talent and time. You deserve everything. Never settle for someone who wants to tarnish your shine. Predatory Bullshit is just that, bullshit, and you are more than allowed to be done with. All. Of. It.

You come from warriors. You are a warrior in your own right. Lift your eyes and walk like one. 

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Until next time...

May you walk through life with purpose, with pride, knowing you are worth all things.

May you know the blood of the warriors who came before you runs through you and will allow your soul to sing. 

May you truly understand you are not less than, you are a force, you have every right to feel safe.

May you link arms with your sisters, together, our voices drown out the whimpers of outdated ways.

May the men of the world invite equality and everything it entails, for it will only make things better.

May the men teach the boys by example, to make a better world for their daughters, now and forever.

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For the story of a kick-ass warrior check out "Once Broken" Available on Kindle and Kobo.

I Make Big Buns And I Cannot Lie...

 

Hi!

So, everyone goes through crap. 

You get down, stressed, have a bad day/week/month/year.

God knows with all that's been going on in the world, it's not exactly a surprise that people are struggling. 

Everybody copes differently.

Some exercise, some binge watch whatever has the power to distract them, some read, some drink, some drink too much, some deal through humour, and, yes some bake.

Please know that in no way am I dismissing or trivializing the seriousness of depression in any or all of its forms. I am painfully aware of the difference between having a hard time and clinical depression.

If you find yourself being swallowed by darkness and can't dig your way out, it is imperative that you reach out for help. If it feels like you are trying to dig yourself out of a well with a teaspoon, it's because you are. You need help, and that is more than ok. It's impossible to get from where you are to where you need to be without the proper tools. Let someone help you replace your teaspoon with a ladder. 

Different people need different tools. If you need help finding what works for you, I beg, please, ask for what you need. Don't let people convince you it's all in your head, or you should just shake it off, or get over it.

You are precious. You are not a burden. You are not broken. You deserve to be here. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to thrive. 

Actual, medically diagnosed depression flirts with more people than one might think. Most of us, however, are lucky in that it doesn't take hold and wrap us in that inescapable darkness. The fact that it doesn't take hold isn't because we are stronger, it isn't because we are without flaws, it's simply because we are wired a little differently. That's it. That's all.

Personally, I have a toolbox that contains a variety of things, but even a mixed bag can feel a bit depleted at times. So sometimes I read, sometimes I watch things to distract, sometimes I go for long walks, sometimes I stay in my tub until my toes are raisined, and, yes, sometimes, I bake. 

I bake cookies, I bake cakes, I make squares, and, you got it, I bake buns. Some are of the cinnamon variety, some are heavy on the butter, some include cheeses, garlic, and other savory spices, some contain cranberries and oranges. One thing that seems to remain the common denominator is the size. Yup, I make big buns and I cannot lie. 

The reason they are big? Likely habit. When you've made buns as often as I have over the years, when it comes to forming them you slip into autopilot and muscle memory takes over. That's likely why it's so relaxing. You grasp the same amount of dough each time, you stretch it from the bowl the same way each time, you cut off the same amount of dough the same way each time, with the same knife, using the same pans. Habit.

So I make big buns, each and every time. Which is fine, as long as big buns are still the goal. If I want a different outcome I would have to adjust each step taken. Override the autopilot, and do it differently.

As long you enjoy big buns, as long as they continue to provide everything you require of them, there is no need to change anything. You can if you feel like it, but there is no need.

On the other hand, if the big buns you are making are going to waste, are becoming difficult to shape, suddenly feel too heavy in your hand, if you had to get new pans and the big buns no longer fit like they used to, or you're just tired of big buns, hit the override.

Your soul tells you when change needs to happen, all you have to do is be willing to listen. 

When you have to continually convince yourself to do something. When you have to constantly talk yourself into things. When things feel too heavy, maybe it's simply time to override your autopilot and stop making big buns. 

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Until next time...

May you find the courage to override your autopilot when you have to talk yourself into your life as it sits.

May you find a way to shift toward joy, shed the heavy, create what makes you smile, rebuild for a better fit.

May you give yourself permission to reach for a hand, reach for a lifeline, reach for what you need.

May you find it, all of it, everything, take your time, it's not a race, just get there at your own speed.

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