Year-End Clearout Continues

I'm so inspired by the cleanup of my files at work, I have decided to continue the cleanout at home.

Although work might suffer because of my enthusiasm.

In my lunch bag, ready for the return to the office, nine coffee mugs.

I have had trouble finding a mug at work in recent weeks, (well, a clean one, but that's a story for another day...) and went looking for a box of mugs I'd packed up long ago.

While trying not to see the translucent spiders who populate my basement, I was struck by several questions: What posessed me to keep these mugs in the first place?
Why do I have mugs from radio station parties in Toronto I didn't actually attend? When was I a guest speaker at a Rotary meeting? Who would ever give someone a mug declaring them the world's Number One dieter? If you were the number one dieter, what would you put in your mug, anyway?

You can rest assured if you're a guest on my radio show in the next while, I will offer you coffee or tea or water in a mug that's never been used.

Cleaning Up

I wonder if Old Year resolutions might actually be better for us than New Year's Resolutions.

My plan for the end of 2012 was to have a clean workspace at work (and by that I mean cleaned out computer files) and at home. Two days to go, and things are looking better.

I have deleted or moved something like 500 files from the computer at work, carefully making sure the most important stuff is saved on a thumbdrive. I've cleaned up my home and work email accounts, too.

I have not yet tackled the heap of actual paper in my office that appears ready to teeter down upon me, though. I think if we can play fast and loose with the rules about resolutions, maybe the actual date of the 'new year' can be toyed with, too, don't you think?

So maybe my resolution for next year should be not to get myself into this bollox in the first place. Harrumph.

Review: Les Miserables

Never doubt the power of a story of redemption, well told.

At its core, Les Miserables, the classic novel, the stage show and now the latest film adaptation is about the power of true love. Agape love, not the romantic kind.

The final line is the most powerful: "To love another person is to see the face of God..."

Here's a hint about how good this movie is: my ever-indulgent sweetheart, who bought us the tickets and went to the show with me, and even thought to bring along extra tissues, spent much of the evening singing, "Look Down, Look Down... Don't Look 'em in the eye...." and only once asked, "Did they really have to sing every single word?"

I apologised in advance to the people sitting near me at the multiplex on Boxing Day in advance of the first scenes. I told them I would be singing along, and there was nothing I could do. I also apologised to my sweetheart for the sniffing and snuffling and weeping, of which there was PLENTY.

The film is practically perfect. Russel Crowe's singing leaves a teeny bit to be desired, and some of the closeups are, well, very close up, and maybe a bit too close.

But overall, Les Miz completely lives up to my very-high hopes: Anne Hathaway as the heartbroken Fantine, Hugh Jackman as the oppressed Jean Valjean, and even Amanda Seigfried (oh, I was worried about her) as Cosette, they were all brilliant, just brilliant.

I never do this, but I'm going to see it in the theatre again, because it will be far too long before the DVD comes out.

Woo Hoo

One of my girlfriends tells me the most endearing thing about her husband is that no matter what, he gives a little cheer when she takes off her clothes.

There are no pompoms or eye-high kicks involved, but she gets a, "Woo Hoo!" every time she undresses, whether to get ready for the day, prepare for a night out or put on her jammies for bed.

She says the constant reinforcement of her desirability, 18 years into their relationship is one of the keys to their successful partnership. The little daily reminder that he still finds her 'hot' serves to remind her of his good qualities, too, and can sometimes soothe any little hurts between them.

I get a similar service from my sweetheart every time I 'put on my face' when we're going out. I'll say, "What do you think of my makeup?" and he'll reply, "You don't need any - you're pretty just the way you are." It doesn't stop me from putting on makeup, but reminds me that even if we're being 'peevy' with each other, there's a foundation of admiration there.

For Christmas this year, in addition to the awesome painting that's already up on a wall, I'm asking for that little ritual to continue.

I bet there's some sweet thing your darling does for you, a thing you don't always notice. Maybe your gift this year could include taking notice. Wrap it in some appreciation and I guarantee your home will be a sweeter place to live.

I can feel it!

A friend of mine has had a cough for the last couple of weeks. It's not what you might term a little tickle, oh, no, it's one of those persistent deep coughs that makes me think he's going to lose a lung or perhaps a toenail.

He showed up at our house yesterday, pale and sweaty, carrying a big prescription and the news that he had finally obeyed my sweetheart and his wife and gone to the doctor. The diagnosis? Whooping cough.

Seriously? Whooping cough?

That really exists outside of nursery rhymes? (hush-ah hush-ah, we all fall down...)

We didn't touch him and after ushering him quickly from the premises, we pulled out the bleach, wiped down everything he had been near and dosed ourselves with Vitamin C and disinfectant and hoped for the best.

Now, of course, 12 hours later, I have a wee headache and I just know I've contracted gangrene, dengue fever and several other hideous diseases he brought with him from the germ-infested waiting room occupied by all those sniffling, whining children.

Dammit!

Party Couple

There was a time I would long for a quiet weekend cocooned at home after busy and hectic weeks of parties and silliness and yes, sometimes a little work. I would emerge from a couple of early nights and quiet afternoons refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to tackle the world once more.

However, after a certain number of peaceful hours, I worry that I'm about to turn to a rusty hulk of a former funster.

This weekend was one of those.

My sweetheart and I were invited to two parties on Friday night and two parties on Saturday night and we attended none of them. I felt guilty about not going, even though I had let my hosts know what we were up to. I felt guilty because nearly everyone I invited to our Christmas bash showed up, some of them from quite a distance.

I also felt like I was missing out, as though somehow the world was moving on without me. Yes, it was only one weekend, and it's not like we were deprived: when a friend dropped in one afternoon, he found us lounging with drinks in our hot tub. Later, we treated ourselves to a wonderful dinner. My sweetie, bless his heart, said to me as we sat down to steak and red wine, flowers, candles, fine china and crystal, "Isn't this The Best? I would give up a fancy restaurant any day for this!" It's what many women wish to hear, I'm told, and I do love knowing Sweetie's first choice is to be with me in our home.

But I can tell you without a question or doubt: one hundred times out of one hundred, I will choose a place that's noisy, packed or overpriced if someone else makes the meal and brings it to me, even if the food is not as good as what I would make, which, in my humble opinion, it almost never is. I'm all for romance, but could it please be catered?

Words Fail

I have nothing intelligent to add to the acres of ink and tears after what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut on Friday. Simply nothing.

Other than this: What a waste.

Diamond Shoes

Once in a while, when I'm in full rant mode about some perceived slight or worrisome situation, one of my girlyfriends will haul me back to reality. She says, in a sing-song voice, "...and my diamond shoes are too tight!" It works every time.

I've been complaining to my sweetheart lately about the sheer volume of cash that's leaving our home, wondering whether our Christmas dinner is going to consist of KD and cut-up weenies. We've had a blast of huge expenses; snow tires, fees for our soon-to-be rebuilt porch, a side of beef we forgot we had ordered and today, carpet so our aging doggie can make it down the hardwood stairs in the middle of the night without assistance.

While it appears our bank accounts are merely conduits rather than savings vehicles, it can be tough to keep in mind this problem is vastly different from the problems facing much of the rest of the world. Snow tires are expensive, but the car is newish. The carpet is expensive but the doggie lights up our lives. The beef was unexpected, but man, is it delicious! We have a roof, food and love to spare.

So, if (when) you hear me complain about my long list of 'first world problems', feel free to remind me of my shoes. And if you don't get that iPad or whatever you're waiting for under your tree, ask yourself about the fit of your sparkly pumps or boots.