Life is the Messy Bits

This past weekend was Family Day weekend.  That actually makes no sense, as Family Day is a day and I just referenced it as a weekend…however, we had the Monday off as it was Family Day.  In essence, this created a long weekend.  Phew, thank god I clarified that.

I, for one, actually spent the entire weekend with my actual family.  The whole lot of them.  A night with my brother, his kids, my other brother and his common-law lady, both their dogs and two cats.  I then proceeded to drive another 2 hours to visit my parents and third brother’s homes.  I saw my mom, my dad, my brother’s new wife, his kids, his step-kids, his ex-wife, her boyfriend, three dogs and even my new sister-in-law’s father and step-mother. Finally, I finished the night off texting with good friends and cuddling with my cats.

Family is a big, messy, complication nowadays.  There is rarely such a thing as the nuclear family and there are few expectations of happily ever after.  Hell, I have friends who only went to see other friends and probably count them closer to family then they do their own siblings.  Like Modern Family, there is no one way to have a family now.  Like The New Normal, there is no normal anymore.

I know for me – well, my sister-in-law, my common-law sister-in-law, my new sister-in-law and even my ex-sister-in-law are all important people in my life.  The ex is the closest thing that I’ve ever had to a sister and in a weird way her boyfriend is like my brother-in-law.  And the new additions to my brother’s family?  Well, those would now be my niece and nephew.

There is no wrong way to have a family.  At least not in my books.  So, go out and appreciate yours, whatever version that may be.  Don’t feel guilty for enjoying time with them and don’t feel guilty for not enjoying time with them…just remember there is no real expectation anymore and you shouldn’t feel bad for who you love…or are forced to tolerate.

So, embarassingly enough, like Erma Bombeck says,  “I come from a family where gravy is considered a beverage.”

The Ginga Ninja

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Twas a Modern Day Christmas?

Twas three days past Christmas and all through the flat, many creatures were stirring, even my cat. There were no stockings hung by the chimney with care because there is not really a chimney, only a gas fireplace there!

Adults were nestled all snug in their beds, with visions of cleanup and New Years in their heads.  But mama in her scrap room and I, with my blog, were not ready for bed and poured some more nog.

With Magic Mike in the background and my cat at my feet I contemplated my diet and what not to eat. The New Year is a challenge, we all know it’s true. But, my 5 Christmas pounds demanded something to do.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow made me fear that my neighbours car soon would need tow. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a text from my friend about her holding a beer.

With an impish friend so lively and crazy, I feared tomorrow morning I would be quite hazy. A rapid typist, her liquor types came, by text she enticed and listed by name.

Now Vodka! Now Jager! Now Molson and Miller!

On Red Wine! On Coolers! Come visit my Chiller!

To the top of the street, to the top of the block! Come party at my place, it’s only a walk!

Looking at the clock and my PJ cladden self, I contemplated, debated and questioned my health. I knew self and health didn’t really rhyme, but thought “Nah forget it, who has the time?”

And then in a twinkling, I wondered “Should I go? You only live once and my health is so-so.”  Then typing too fast I hit the wrong key, and somehow in Spanish my ? became É.

If Santa were real, would he encourage me to drink? Would God punish me and Buddha cause me to think? Is there a time too late or an age too old, or is age only a number and life is meant to be bold?

My eyes how they twinkled, my thoughts how merry! As I imagined the taste of a maraschino cherry.  My droll little mouth drew up like a bow when I pictured a beer as cold as the snow. I knew it would hurt my newly dentised teeth, but the thoughts they encircled my head like a wreath. Despite my broken-out face and my currently round little belly, alcohol was calling me now instead of my telly.

I feel quite chubby and plump, but whats a drink more? And I laughed at my circumstance; god life is a chore.  A memory, a giggle and a shake of my head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work, fixing my makeup and hair like a jerk. And putting some cover on the tip of my nose, my esteem started rising and my spirits they rose.

I sprang into action and got my butt out of the door, only to realize my feet were still glued to the floor. It was only a dream…I had slumbered upright…Merry Christmas to all and to All a Good Night!

The Ginga Ninja

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There Goes the Neighbourhood…

So, no matter what country, city, or abode you live in…there are little things that start to make your neighbourhood...your neighbourhood.  Good and bad, crazy or carefree…after a certain amount of time your neighbourhood does become just that.  And this truly does go for ANYWHERE on earth – from Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills to Khao San Road in Bangkok…some things just start to stick.

I have been in my new pad for around 4 months and I can say that there are already things that I think of with smirk-inducing fondness. We have the worst McDonalds on earth, Mr. Sub around the corner, the toothless Aisan man running the local convenience store, a streetcar within throwing distance for those drunken stumbly nights home…there is always something you begin to connect with and even things you might wish weren’t there, but are all actually part of your new reality.

I for one love all my neighbourhood cats.  There is Scotty Ted, the wide-eyed orange kitten next door who pees in flower pots, perches on my windowsill and scares the bajeezes out of me nightly.  Another favourite is Tom Selleck, a local Oreo-coloured cat who has a white mustache so bushy, I could only think to nickname him after the mustache-master himself, Tom Selleck.  Then there is Tim Selleck, a smaller, shyer, dirtier black and white cat I originally mistook for Tom, so I feel like those of you with a fourth grade education may figure that one out…. Lastly, there is the crazy cat house on the corner that has had no less than 2 and anywhere up to 6 cats (and sometimes a dog) sleeping on the front porch at all times. No, seriously. I find myself inclined to knock on the door one day and ask them just how close to legitimate animal hoarders they really are.

This is not to say all things here are perfect.  For instance, had I known there was an abandoned apartment complex or a halfway house at the end of my street, as a single girl I maaayyy have reconsidered this move, but thus far there seems to be no threat or immediate danger.  I joke that one intersection to my right is one of the newest and richest neighbourhoods in the city, and one interesection to my left is the “all welfare all the time” lucky jackpot corner.  I like to think that I’m right in between the rich and the crazy, sadly enough, probably exactly where I belong!

I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself. – Maya Angelou

The Ginga Ninja

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Crazy Cat Ladies…

So, there are cat people and there are dog people…or that third type of person who doesn’t like animals at all.  I pity them.  Then again, with two cats at the age of 30, they probably pity me.  As a single woman with cats, it gets pprreettyy hard to escape the old adage of old maid, crazy cat lady, single white female….the list goes on and on.  It doesn’t matter that I have had one of these cats since 17, or they were both adopted into a family (not a single woman’s tiny apartment), or that one was saved from being put down….two cats + 1 woman + no ring on that finger = spinster.

Anyways, there are those that embrace the life and choose their “babies” over relationships or kids, and then there are those (like moi) who fight the stereotype. They refuse that third cat (no matter how cute) and are very careful to avoid all cat paraphenelia, pictures, clothing, or statuettes.  Though a cute set of salt & pepper shakers could never hurt.

And so this brings me to the most important part of this rant….an homage to the crazy cat ladies of our time!  You have my love and support, I get it.  Just be sure not to go over the count of 12 because that will officially term you an animal hoarder.  Seriously.

• Eleanor Abernathy (Crazy Cat Lady, The Simpsons)
• Cat Woman (Batman)
• The Black Cat (Spiderman)
• Angela Martin (The Office)
• The Cat Lady (A Clockwork Orange)
• Jocelyn Wildenstein (Woman who has had plastic surgery to look like a cat)
• My brother’s crazy neighbour Anne-Marie

So, this posting goes out to my girl Titi who finally got her condo and just adopted two adult cats in need of a home.  You deserve my never-ending admiration.

The Ginga Ninja

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