A Choose Your Own Adventure Book Called LIFE

Remember those books you used to read when you were a kid, where you could change the ending depending on which 'path' you took in the story.

One seemingly small decision could completely change the course of events for the Hero/Heroine.


Have you ever noticed how life is like one of these books?

Each decision you make affects another link in the chain of events.

A Choose Your Own Adventure book book called, LIFE.



Every day, I stop at Wilsons Gas Stop.

They knock $0.02 off your gas if you pay with cash or Debit. I like that!

Not *my* Wilsons, but one like it. Pic taken from HERE

Some days, it's unfortunately more out of habit than need, but nonetheless, either in the morning on the way to work, or afterwards on the way home, I stop.

My particular Wilsons is on the corner of the main intersection of the community.

You have a Sobeys, Tims, Subway, liquor store and bank machines in the same area.

BUSY spot!!! Always.

It also has a McDonalds attached to it, so that brings in extra cars as well, especially on a Friday or Saturday.


My usual routine on a Friday is to stop in on the way home, after picking up Adam, anytime after 5:30pm.

I'll get gas for the weekend, a lottery ticket, cigarettes, and something at McD's if that's on the menu for traditional Friday night takeout.


This past Friday night was different.


The boys were with their father and I had worked late.

It was closer to 6pm when I reached one of the two exits that would take me home.

At that point, I had a decision to make.

Go to Wilsons now, or later. One exit would take me now, the other later.


Alec had a basketball game at 7pm at the Community Centre.

The centre was down the street from the gas station, so if I didn't make it now, there would always be time later.

It was raining, windy, miserable. Had been all day.

What did I want to do after working all day ... head straight to the warm house, or out into the cold rain to pump gas.

I needed the gas regardless. Now or later.

Being the procrastinator I can sometimes be, and big wimp in the rain I can always be ... I chose later.


I went home, worked around the house a bit, packed the boys bag for the weekend, then headed down to the game.

Afterwards, I went straight to Wilsons.


Or, that was the intention at least.

Until I got close enough to see it was in complete darkness, with emergency pylons blocking the entrances.

Was the power out?

I quickly looked across the street. Nope, everyone else had lights.

And then, through the sheets of rain, I saw it.


Remember I said it was windy?

Well, the wind was SO strong, that part of the roof/shelter over the gas pumps was no longer OVER the pumps, but on the ground.

OMIGOD!

The roof fell off!

There aren't many moments I wish I had the camera feature on my cell phone, but this was definitely one of those times!


It was dark, and almost impossible to see through the sheets of rain, but there it was, parts of the pump shelter all over the ground.

WOW!

I certainly hope nobody was filling up their car at the time!

Or simply driving past the pumps to get to the McD's.

There would have been damage for sure!

No wonder the place was closed!


Obviously I wasn't getting the gas, so I drove straight by and went to the Tims instead.

Which was stop #2 on the to-do list anyway ;-)

I also called the ex, who was still at the CC and suggested he take a drive by on the way home, since I knew the boys would appreciate the 'wow' factor of the scene.

He said he knew about it already, as it had happened shortly after 6pm.

He had heard, thankfully and AMAZINGLY, nobody had been hurt or cars damaged.

Despite being peak time on a Friday night ... nobody had been in the path of the falling roof.


On the way home, it hit me.


Had I made a different choice, and gotten the gas before going home, I would have been there during that time frame.

Whether or not it would have been that EXACT time, who knows.

Who knows why NOBODY was in it's path at that EXACT time.

What seemingly innocent decision they made, which ensured they were elsewhere at that precise moment.

Just like I did.

How many times over the course of your life have you said 'WOW! 1 or 5 or 10 minutes earlier/later and I would have ....'

On a 'normal' Friday night, I wouldn't have been there at that time. Having worked late put me off schedule, and could have put me there, but for my being a procrastinator and big wimp in cold rain.


I ... and everybody else who would, could or should have been there ... wasn't.


For whatever reason.


Because of whatever decision that was made, that sent us down that particular path in the story.

In that book we didn't even know we were reading.


That Choose Your Own Adventure book called, LIFE.

K.

The Perfect Jewel For His Rose

A couple of weeks ago, Adam and I are on our way home from basketball practice, when he pipes up from the back seat, 'Hey mom, turn the music down.'

That's Adamspeak for 'Hey mom, turn it off cause we're going to have a serious conversation now.'

He wanted to know if I had any jewelry he could have, to give to his girlfriend, Rose.

His ... g-i-r-l-f-r-i-e-n-d ... !!!


Yeah. The boy will be 10 in two months, and is talking a rock for the girl!


I told him I had nothing.

He'd already cleaned out my jewelry box of all it's non-precious belongings in grade Primary, when he decided he was in love with little Susie*.

Sorry, Bud. This time, he was on his own.

Once he realized he wasn't getting anything from my stash, and that I wasn't agreeing to BUY her something from him, he announced, 'Well, I have $17 in my allowance. I'll just use that. Earrings or a necklace. And it has to come in a little box. And it has to be blue, because that's her favourite colour. Just like you, Mom.'

And before I could say anything, he added, 'I want it to be nice, and I want her to wear it on special occasions.'

Sigh.

And with that last line, the argument about why he's too young to be buying jewelry for girls just died on my lips, and was replaced with an, 'Awwwwww.'

Mushy sap that I am.

So, the next night, off we went.

In search of the perfect jewel for his Rose.

The most perfect jewel he could find, within the $10 limit Mom had insisted on.



He looked, he debated, he looked again, and yes, even asked for my opinion.

And this, is what he came away with for Rose.

He worried about giving it to her.

He worried she wouldn't like it.

I saw him looking at it before going to bed, and before leaving for school.

I worried for him. And his little heart.


Shortly after school, I got the phone call.

She loved it.

Had it been a different time, a different place, I might have let a few tears escape at that moment.

I was so happy for him that she liked it.

I was also reminded, in that same instant, that my baby just keeps growing up on me.

Today, it was the little blue necklace.

But before I know it, it's going to be '... something borrowed, something blue ...'


OK, someone remind me of that feeling, right there, the next time he's done something that makes me want to ship him off to the Gypsy's!!!!! ;-)

Kidding! You know I luvs ya Babe! Smooches!

K.

* - No, her name wasn't Susie. I couldn't tell you WHAT her name was. I'm sure Adam could though ;-)

P.S. Yes, this post has been published with Adam's permission.

A Little Paranormal Activity Perhaps?

Do you believe in ghosts?

I do.

No, I'm not like the Osment kid. I don't see dead people.

I do however, believe spirits exist.

Good and bad.

And for whatever reason, some are more forceful in making their presence known, and some people are simply more susceptible to seeing and sensing them.

Period.

That's MY belief.



The first really scary book I read, at 13, was The Amityville Horror.

Shortly after came Carrie.

That was it. From then on I was hooked on the possibilities of the 'other world.'

Please don't send me email advising me to seek psychiatric care, or a priest.

I believe what I believe, and I believe we have angels on our shoulders, and shadows in our Korners and we simply all have to learn to live together.



I have also always believed that animals are super sensitive to ... things.

Once again, I believe what I believe.


So, all this spirit talk brings me to last night.

I'm sitting in the (w)rec(ked) room, on the computer, half watching TV.

Belle was curled up on the couch.

All of a sudden, she began growling.

Not the snarling, teeth bearing growl, but a really low, slow, deep in her throat growl.

I thought she was dreaming.

She'd take a breath, then start the low rumbling again.

She did this half a dozen times, before I finally leaned back in my chair to get a better look at her face, and realized she wasn't asleep at all.


Her eyes were open and focused on the other side of the room.

In the corner of the (w)rec(ked) room, sits the 100+yr old rocking chair that was in Dad's family, and an entertainment unit.

Belle was staring from one to the other, and growling and growling ... and growling.

I looked up the stairs, thinking maybe one of the boys was on the landing. But knowing at the same time she wouldn't growl at THEM anyway.

I looked over into the dark corner. Nothing. Obviously.

Belle wasn't as convinced.

She completely ignored my 'what is it girl', and in slow motion, uncurled herself, almost one paw at a time, off the couch and slowly approached the corner.

The low growl upped a notch, as she sniffed her way along the edge of the unit, and over to the chair.

Stopping. Staring. No more growling. Just staring. Then sniffing again.

Then, all of a sudden, she looks over at me, I gave her a 'what?' and she flies across the room over to my side, giving a backwards glance to the corner, before putting her head in my lap.


I won't lie. The whole thing was a little freaky.


I stared over into the corner.

What the hell was over there?

A little paranormal activity perhaps?

Then gave my head a shake, reminded myself I didn't want to know what was over there. Could live the rest of my live very happily, should I never experience it's wonder.

There's absolutely NO Ghost Whisperer blood in this chick!

And let me say it again, I don't see dead people, nor do I ever want to!


But ... the creepiness doesn't end there, my friends ;-)


For her good guard dog spirit, I took Belle upstairs for a treat.

I came back downstairs, settled myself at the computer again, and not ten minutes later, one of the cats comes along.

The quiet one.

The one you never see.

The one you never hear.

She comes out when SHE wants to and ONLY then.


I didn't notice her at first. I wasn't looking in her direction.

I had no idea she was there, until this strangled meowing burst through the room.

At ear piercing levels.

Over, and over and over and ...


I whipped my head towards the screeching, and there was kitty. Sitting in the exact spot Belle had been growling, sniffing and staring at.

My little mute kitty, staring and screaming at me, as if I'd just taken a hacksaw to the back end of her tail.


This went on for a good couple of minutes, until I did the only thing I could, that would undoubtedly end the madness.

I walked to the laundry room, shook the cat food bag, and topped off the bowl.

The sound of the bag was enough to snap her out of it, and send her running.

She was happy, I was happy the noise had stopped.


Whatever was in the corner? I'm hoping it's happy. Happy would be good ;-)


I know many of you completely disregard the possibility of ghosts and/or paranormal activity. And that's cool. I'm all for everyone having their own beliefs, and explanations for why unexplainable things happen.


For me, I still believe we have angels on our shoulders, and shadows in the Korners.

And considering over the last 30 some years, I've experienced my own unexplainable occurrences, and the fact this isn't the first time I've seen one of my animals act this way ... I'm sticking with the animals!

Now, where did I put that Dr Doolittle movie. Time to brush up on my Dog and Cat whispering ...

K

I Just Don't Get It

I think my heart literally stopped the other day.

Only for a moment.

But ... yeah ...


Around 3pm Wednesday, I went out to the car for my afternoon 'fresh air break'.

I'm sitting there, listening to my favourite country station, staring out the window, mentally shutting down for a few minutes, when I heard ...

"Hi, I'm calling from XXXX X XXXXX, and I wanted to let you know about an accident ..."

Suddenly my brain snapped to attention, I sat up a little straighter in my seat, that was Alec's school.

Then she continued with, 'A train has hit a car in XXX and ...'

And to be honest with you, that was all I heard.

Kind of like last summer, when Adam came home from a friend's place, with a towel wrapped around his hand, and I didn't hear anything else the dad said after 'impaled'.


The announcer repeated what she'd said.

A train had hit a vehicle.

In my neighbourhood.

On the same tracks we cross multiple times a day.

Here, for example.

And here ...

And here ...

This was not good.


I went back in the building, with the intention of checking in with the kids, and just as I reached my desk, I got a text message from Alec.

"going to be late'

I picked up the phone and called him.



They were still at school. The buses hadn't arrived yet due to the traffic jam caused by the accident.

I can only assume that the passenger train was blocking the crossing further down, and one of the main arteries of the community.

All the buses travel along this route.

And cross these tracks.

I believe I asked him if anyone he was with, knew who had been hit.

It's a small community. Everyone knows someone who knows everyone.

He said 'No' but that they heard it was a BUS that the train hit.

Wow. A bus.

That definitely wouldn't be good.


When I hung up with Alec, I looked at the clock.

It was after 3pm.

Adam has usually reached the sitter's and called me by then.


I called the sitter's.

No answer.

I looked at the clock.

He should be there.

That was the point I officially let 'that thought' cross my mind, and stopped breathing ... for just a sec.


I looked at my co-worker sitting across the pod.

I'm guessing I must have been sporting my best 'HOLY SHIT!' expression, because she immediately said, 'Kim, call the school. If it was a bus, they'll know.'

Good plan!

Smart co-workers! Thanks C!


After scrambling for a phone book, I get through to the school and they confirmed it was a car, not a bus that had been hit by the train.

My breathing officially returned to normal.

I was sad to hear that someone had been hit at all, but was relieved it wasn't any of the kids on their way home from school.


By the time I got home, the accident had been cleared, and the details were hitting the news.

A passenger train on it's way to Montreal, hit the back end of the car at one of the private crossings. A 60yr old resident of the area for 20+ years, who crossed those tracks every day.

The back end of the car.


I didn't understand that. I still don't.

There's NO way she wouldn't have seen the train coming at that close distance.

No way.

We may never know what happened.

But the possibilities have certainly been running through my head.

Was she trying to beat the train?

Did she have a heart attack, or some other medical emergency that caused her to hit the gas at the absolute wrong time?

Did she actually cross the track, then slide back down the hill?

Was she driving a standard and stall at the wrong time?

WHY the back end of her car?

Why to someone who crossed those tracks daily, and was aware of the train schedule.

Why?

I just don't get it.

And I may never get it.

Other than to feel bad for losing a member of our community, who was a regular fixture at our Community Centre down the street, where the boys and I spend much of our summer.

And I feel bad for the way it happened. So tragic.

Just not the chain of events you expect, for an otherwise normal Wednesday afternoon.

I suspect people will be taking that extra precaution of looking ... and looking again before heading across those tracks, now.

At least for a little while.

I hope.

Drive safe, People!

K.

Call It My Pre-Intervention

I did something the other night that probably won’t earn me any Mother of the Year awards.

One kid was in his room, the other was downstairs. I was in my room, folding laundry and watching Intervention on A&E.

This isn’t a show I watch often. I find it depressing. Somewhat like Hoarders.

But, because I like the other A&E shows like Criminal Minds & CSI, more often than not, when you turn on the TV, it’s already on A&E.

Such was the case that night, and how I happened to be sucked into Intervention.


A few minutes into the show, Adam walks into the room.

I immediately reached for the remote, as Intervention isn’t something I make a habit of watching with my almost 10 yr old.

I wasn’t quick enough.

Just as I’m about to change the channel, Adam hops up on the bed, looks at the young guy on the TV and asks, ‘What’s that, Mom?’

It was again one of those moments where my brain split in two.

One side said, ‘Tell him, 'nevermind what it is', he’s too young to know, and change the channel’

The other said, ‘Take this opportunity and use this show as a learning tool!’



We've already had the drugs and alcohol discussion.

You know, the basics.

Drugs are bad for you. They can slowly kill your mind and body, completely destroy families, and once you start, it's one of the hardest things in the world to stop.

And of course, they can kill you.


Suddenly, my mind flashed back to that 80's commercial. The first one to really draw the worlds attention to the fact recreational drugs were no longer socially acceptable.

Surely you remember it.





That one commercial won numerous awards and honours, and made an impact.

Today, we have kids (and adults of course) on a little show called Intervention.

Would he make an impact?


I've learned that you can talk, lecture and preach to some kids, and they just get it.

Others, like Adam, are more visual learners, and need to see it to believe it, to really understand the impact of the point you're trying to make.

I can only hope neither of my boys ever end up as drug users.

But in the end, all I can do is warn them, and teach them, and hope they get it.


I slowly turned my head away from the TV, looked Adam in the eye and said, 'that my dear, is heroine, a type of drug.'

At the same time, the junkie was trying to find a vein in his arm. That brought about the next obvious question from my boy's curious mind.

"UGH! WHY is he trying to put that needle in his arm?'

I simply said there were different ways to 'take' drugs, and this was one of them. I also made sure to point out how horrible and sore his arms looked.

A few minutes later, it showed the young addict almost passed out, mumbling incoherently.

Adam asked, 'Why's he acting like that? He's not making sense!'

Alright, Mom, time to make your point ... 'Because, THAT'S what happens to your brain when you use drugs!'

'Is he dead?'

OK, time to drive it home ... 'Not yet. Not THIS time. Next time, he may not be so lucky.'

And then, the Mom in me just HAD to throw out, 'Don't you EVER get into that crap, Adam!'

Thankfully, he came back with the words I've committed to memory, and will hold him to forever, 'NO WAY, Mom! I'm never doing drugs!'



And so goes my drug conversation with my soon to be 10 yr old.

I understand some may think ten is too young for this type of visual introduction to the drug world. That I shouldn't have let my kid watch the 15 min or so of Intervention with me, that he did.

Hence, the Mother of the Year comment at the beginning of this post.

The way I see it, he's already aware that drugs exist, he's heard about the older kids 'smoking drugs' down at the skate park.

The scary part is, 'older' isn't really all that much older!

From something as simple as a news report on the radio, he knows 'grown ups' partake in the illegal activity too, even though they shouldn't.


I can't hide him from it.

So, if I can turn him off the whole idea early, remove the mystery and maybe even scare the crap out of him when it comes to just saying NO ... then I'm going to do it.

I'd rather discuss it now, than end up with Candy Finnigan on A&E later.

Call it my pre-intervention.

K.

My Dirty Little Secret

I've started watching a new show.

Hoarders

WOW!

That's the first thought that comes to mind.

Then it goes along the lines of 'omigodhowcanpeoplelivelikethat'.


Clutter is one thing.

I think everyone has some form of clutter in their lives.

But this?

This goes beyond clutter. It's a complete behaviour.


From the Squalor Survivor website:

"3-part definition of clinical hoarding:

1. The acquisition of, and failure to discard, a large number of possessions that appear to be useless or of limited value (Frost and Gross, 1993).
2. Living spaces are cluttered enough that they can't be used for the activities for which they were designed (Frost and Hartl, 1996).
3. Significant distress or impairment in functioning caused by the hoarding."

During one show, I can remember the homeowner calling it her 'dirty little secret.'

I felt bad for her.

I couldn't believe the condition of her home.

She looked completely overwhelmed, and defeated.

I think many more people than we realize have this dirty little secret, to varying degrees.

I know I do. I always have.

Don't get me wrong. My house has NEVER looked like any you've seen on the hit A&E series.

Or anything like THIS ... EVER!

Pic taken from ScienceDaily

or this ...

Pic taken from Ugly House Photos

As I wrote this post, I walked around the house and snapped pics of a few rooms in their current condition.

You can get through my front door, without falling over something.

OK, maybe a sneaker or two will be laying around, but you CAN walk in the door without walking into furniture.

Or over it.

Then, there's the dining room.

We eat at our table regularly.

Yes, sometimes there's other 'stuff' on it, at the 4th person's place setting, but for the most part, you can always still SEE our table.

In the living room ...

you will occasionally find something that the dog has dragged from the garbage, and the boys are forever throwing their jackets on the couches, but ...

when your butt needs a place to park at 6:30 when you're waiting for your coffee to heat up around the corner, you HAVE a place to sit!

Yes, there's 'stuff', hanging around in some areas there shouldn't be, but overall, you can move around without stepping on anything.


Be that as it may, today I'm coming out and admitting that for particular items, and particular AREAS of my house, I have hoarding tendencies.

This is my dirty little secret.

Why am I exposing it to all of you?

Because watching those people, live in that squalor, scares me to death. And makes me look at my own shit and think 'gotta go gotta go gotta go!'

And now that I've DONE something about it, maybe it'll be enough to give someone else the kick in the ass they need to look at their OWN stuff, and think 'well hell, if SHE can do it ...'

Ya know.

So , let's start with the little thing.


I've always been a book (and magazine) hoarder. My mother, ex and kids can easily attest to this one :-)

There are books in most every room in my house.

Yes, that includes the bathroom, too.

And sets. Maybe not complete sets, but once I find an author I like, I kind of go nuts and get everything I can find on them.

And I can't get rid of them. Cause, ya know, you can't get rid of the books you like.

So, with that in mind ... Hello, my name is Kim, and I'm a book hoarder.

Then, there's the BIG things.

And what would a hoarding post be, without a shot of my (W)rec(ked) Room.

Gawd. I can't believe I'm doing this.

Although one side looks somewhat livable.

The other ... not so much.

This is what was supposed to be the toy/playroom.

OK. Here's the deal.

Have I mentioned I hate my (W)rec(ked) Room!

It was supposed to be a fixer upper project for the Ex, that didn't quite get fixed ... up, down, left, right ...

And I certainly don't have the skills to do it myself, or the finances to have someone do it properly for me.

So it's stayed as is. Partly finished. Partly not.

I've sat in this (W)rec(ked) room, watching Hoarders, and then glanced across the room to my dirty little secret.

And I hate it.

But I don't know where to start.

Yeah yeah yeah, I know, start small, give yourself small accomplishments and the job won't seem so big.

All wonderful, sensible advice.

When you're not the one looking at your own personal nemesis.

Finally, one night last month I got up, literally yanked up my sleeves, looked at all the junk and said out loud to the empty room, 'it's ON Baby!'

Picked a spot, worked my way through it and either tossed, donated or found a home for it on a shelf or temporarily in a bin.

Again, yeah yeah yeah, I know the bins are cop outs, but I was going for the quick fix in some areas. Especially toys!

And after a bit of work ... progress!

Threw a bit of carpet on the floor, strategically place a few 'toy bins', and more progress ...

It's by no means perfect, or pretty, but it's functional.

And for now, functional works for me.

We can work on the pretty.

Now that I've tackled and conquered the beast that is, the (W)rec(ked) room, I'm going to tackle the other hoarding spot in the Korner.

Oh yes. There's another one.

My closet!

Although one side is (mostly) organized ...

... the other is a complete disaster.

What started as a 'catch all spot' has exploded into the 'pit of shit'.

It must be stopped

However, that's another post for another day.

One dirty little secret at a time, People ;-)

K.

Damn You Jim Reeves, AND Your Old Christmas Card!

Once, during an argument, my ex threw out the statement that I 'still haven't gotten over your dad's death!'

That was after we separated, so it would have been going on a couple of years after dad died.

At the time, I disagreed with him. I told him that yes, I missed him, and always would, but I thought I was moving along with life nicely.


It's been over 7yrs now, and I wouldn't be honest if I said I didn't miss him.

And still think about him at certain times.

One of those times is Christmas. Obviously.

And there are two Christmas songs that always remind me of him.


I heard Kenny & Dolly's 'I'll be home with bells on' many many many times this year. It originally came out when I was Alec's age, 13.

It became even more personal as I grew up, because I always went home for Christmas.

And though it still brings back memories, it didn't bring on an emotional reaction this year as it had in the first few years after dad was gone.

That argument with the ex came back to me, as it does at times, and I thought to myself, maybe I'd 'moved on' another step in 'getting over it.'


On Christmas Eve, long after the boys had gone to bed, I was wrapping presents.

I was tired, and the emotional guard was down when it came on the radio.

That song.

Dad's song.

Jim Reeves, singing An Old Christmas Card.

Damn you Jim Reeves, AND your old Christmas card.

I was doing OK until I heard that song.

My fingers stopped wrapping.

I closed my eyes and could picture, clear as day, my father saying to me, 'turn that up Kimberly!' as this would come on the radio, then him turning to my mom and saying 'let's dance Di.'

And he'd either take her in his arms, right there in the kitchen, or drag her into the living room.

For so many years, this memory had been my reality.


I didn't even realize I was crying, until that first teardrop made a small 'thwack' on the wrapping paper still in my hands.

But I didn't try to stop them.

Not that night.

Not during that song.


I do think I've 'gotten over' my dad's death.

As well as any person can anyway.

But I do still have my moments, like Christmas Eve, when I'm alone, and the guard is down.
Moments that bring me back, make me remember, and sometimes, make me sad that will never be again.
But then the song ends.

I wipe the remaining tears on my sweatpants, pick up the tape, and continue to wrap the present that was momentarily forgotten.

And simply did what we all have to do when that song ends ...

Just keep wrappin'.


Cause Christmas morning is going to come.

And two boys are going to rush expectantly into the living room to see what Santa left under the tree.

And life is going to go on.

As it does.


And all we can do, is just keep on wrappin' ;-)

I hope all of you, and yours had a wonderful Christmas/Holiday, and all the best in 2010!
K.