Thursday, 25 July 2013

Time to Wake Up

I, like so many others on our beloved planet, are acutely aware of the changes occurring in our world.

I've spent my earthwalk learning, pondering, doing, learning, pondering, doing (repeat infinitely)... I feel alive, aware and knowing. So much is starting to make sense.

Amongst many fascinating things, people, places, books, philosophies, concepts I've obsessed over, this by far sums up what we collectively know to be true.

Settle in and soak it up... It's time fellow earthlings! Our collective consciousness can create a world where we all can do more than survive. We can thrive!

I am humbled and grateful. Thank you Foster Gamble.

Monday, 22 July 2013

Kids Say the Darnedest Things...

In honour of my first born's 25th birthday today (he's always been regal) I'd like to share some of the darnedest things he said...

My Little Man 

We're cruising the aisles of the grocery store, my lil bit of heaven sitting happily in the seat of the shopping cart. I'm focused on selecting the week's supply of navel oranges when my son's perky 3-year-old voice boldly announces ... Mom, that man's gotta a big black head. Suppressing my laughter (as my immediate thought is what about the rest of him?), I bee-line to Cereal/Crackers/Snacks.

Oh, crap... No relief here. It's mascot day. A ginormous Tony the Tiger, holding a box of Frosted Flakes, is bearing down on us. My son looks, and promptly starts shrieking like a banshee. The cart is up on the sidewheels as I 180-it... Heading to the meat department I feel confident raw meat will diffuse any pent-up hilarity.

Jump ahead to age 4. We're camping and my lil sparky accompanies me in the washroom stall. Leery of the cleanliness I hover over the seat. As the trickle flows my son peers at the operation before him. Mom, he asks, do you have just a bum?

When being reprimanded by his father who had asked, What kind of a place do you think this is? my son's reply was Um, a place where you smoke cigars? No holding back. I burst into gales of laughter... It took awhile to figure that one out. Turns out he was recalling the story of Pinocchio on Pleasure Island...

Kindergarten. My cheery boy easily makes new friends and is proud to remember their names. One afternoon, while having our daily snack & chat, he tells me about a girl in his class. Her name is Jasmine he says. Then adds, but not the one in Aladdin...

I hold the sweetness of his innocence at the core of my heart.

Happy Birthday Sparky!

Saturday, 20 July 2013


I found myself at 45 having to take on a second job. My best option was housekeeping. I’d done it for 25+ years caring for my family, my mother’s standards well ingrained in my performance.

I answered a few ads and lo and behold there I was meeting Greta, a retired university professor of Sociology. (I later googled her to find she’d been busted 10 years prior for growing pot. Alleged medicinal purposes. Do tell... I was one more to be titillated by this discovery than offended). After chatting with Greta for 10 or so minutes a situation arose that, by request, I easily took charge of. A utility repairman had arrived; she was unnerved and agitated. Get rid of him she said. No problem.

I went outside and introduced myself as the housekeeper and requested he return another time as the present was not convenient for Ms. Professor. He kindly left and she immediately hired me.

Over the next few months Greta shared her eclectic life with me (sans grow-op story); she was an extraordinary individual and I admired her greatly. Her views on life, her intelligence, her experiences, all unfolded in a glorious form as we tackled her disorganized home room by room. I loved my time with her. She epitomized grace, even when she had nodded off reading in her grand leather wing chair, and I would delicately remove the wine glass from her hand.

Greta explained the difference between Sociology and Psychology ... I could sense she was studying me ... she declared me to be bohemian. I wasn't entirely sure of the definition but before jumping to any rash, ego-victim-based conclusion I choose to be intrigued and made a mental note to self to google this.

Later, to my delight, my search resulted in:


boh-hee-mee uh n

"a socially unconventional person, especially one who is involved in the arts".
... derived from the French bohémien Gypsy

Fanf’ntastic I thought. I did a 5 second rip through my life ... yup, I am so down with this.

And so was the realization, the revelation, the awareness, the birth of my inner GYPSY!

Monday, 15 July 2013

Irrational Thoughts of a (temporarily) Mad Woman

I’ve just lambasted my ex for being an insensitive jerk. As I’m an Over-Crier I’m secretly hoping he's tormenting himself envisioning me sobbing over his latest disappointment.
Ah, but I am not. With extreme swiftness I'm funnelling my anger sweeping that man outta my garage.
I am resisting the urge to text:

BTW not a tear shed. Though I will neither confirm nor deny I have created a voodoo doll in effigy. Does your face hurt?

Somehow I feel better...
I wore a dress to work. Still avoiding any kind of lengthy dialogue with him — you wanna communicate with me you know how — I received a text.

Him You look nice
MeLooks can be deceiving ;)

Bless him. Didn't get my cynical humour. Thought I was having a bad day...

Aren't Jokes supposed to be Funny?

CMH Closed Minded Human (dude at work)
CJ Cuppa Joy (me)
So this CMH tells this joke which annoyed me.

How do you make 3 pounds of fat look good?  Put a nipple on it.

Joe Average laughs. I’m irked. And I’m not exactly sure why. But after pondering, for a few months I might add, I found the source.
Um, firstly, it’s not fat jackwagon. It’s tissue...mammary gland if you want to be picky.

And, in fact, mammary glands play a life and death role in this world of ours.
Am I taking this a lil seriously? You betcher ass I am.

I am a mother of four. I am humbled and in awe that I have, from my physical form, created and sustained life.
This is an aspect of our earthwalk that by the infinite wisdom of the universe this CMH will not get the opportunity to experience.
A few weeks later the same CMH sends me a message.

CMH Hey I thought of a great Halloween costume for you.

CJ     this is March

CMH You can attach jars of cinnamon, paprika, pepper to your bra and go as a spice rack.

CJ     seriously?  Hey you can paint that circular fringe on the top of your head brown and go as an asshole...

CMH ouch. that hurt.

'Nuff said. Message received.

Monday, 8 July 2013


Clarification time...

The emblem in the corner of my blog header represents the flower of life as defined in sacred geometry. The colour palette represents the 7 main chakras.

Word on the Street was that it resembled marijuana leaves in pride colours. Nope.
(To quote Seinfeld, "Not that there's anything wrong with that." )


I celebrate and support all individuality guided and expressed in a respectful and honouring manner to humanity at large.


The flower of life is a geometrical shape composed of multiple evenly-spaced, overlapping circles arranged in a flower-like pattern with six fold symmetry like a hexagon. The perfect form, proportion and harmony of the Flower of Life has been known to philosophers, architects and artists around the world as depicting the fundamental forms of space and time.

In New Age thought, the Flower of Life has provided what is considered to be deep spiritual meaning and forms of enlightenment to those who have studied it as sacred geometry.


Chakras, in Hindu metaphysical tradition and other belief systems, are centres of Prāṇa, life force, qi (chi) or vital energy. Chakras correspond to vital points in the physical body.

Their name derives from the Sanskrit word for "wheel" or "turning". There are 7 main chakras.


Question to the masses -

How many bras, on average, do most women have?

This came to mind of recent when my daughter, convinced that I was too embarrassed to attend to her needs, corralled my quite-willing daughter-in-law to do the deed and take her shopping for a bra.

The outing was a complete success - to La Senza, no less - and I was secretly delighted to be spared any awkwardness. My daughter was thrilled with her purchases ... or at least I thought so until she expressed a preteen level of urgency in returning to the store as the sale-of-the-century was ending.

So I asked... Um... how many did you get today?

Her reply was 3 (three).

I said... You're 13. How many do you need?

My mind drifted back to a conversation with my mostly inappropriate and incredibly endearing co-workers... I overhear a couple of the gals chatting about their various boob-cases (one of my sons coined this term at age 3). I holler out "I've got two. How many do you need?"

Looking back I realize how much of a reflection that was of how I was feeling about myself. Definitely before I embraced my Inner Gypsy. I now have 5 ... in different colours too!

But maybe I'm way out of touch. It's possible. So I pose the question.

How many bras, on average, do most women have?