I do not need a thneed.

My cherry red cell phone is dying a slow and cancerous death.

First, I dropped it while standing in line at Target™ last October.  I said a very bad word out loud when I picked it up and saw this:

Broken Motorola Krzr

Then, a few months later, the battery began pittering out, dying more quickly between charges with every passing day.

And now the sliver part of the middle button has fallen off:

Broken Motorola Krzr2Nice.

My contract for this particular phone is almost up, which means I’m allowed to get a brand new phone—any one I want—free of charge.  Poor Kyle has been nagging me to start looking at new phones for the past couple of months, because this sort of thing excites him more than me in my—never mind.  But you get what I’m saying, right?  The man loves technological gadgetry.

But here’s the thing: My cherry red cell phone still works.  Anyone who has watched the entire 20-minute Story of Stuff documentary knows that this is all a ploy, cleverly crafted by The Man and his cohorts, to compel me to stay on top of the current fads.

For a little while, I was tempted by Poor Kyle’s grand talk of newer, shinier phones within my reach.  There were a few days when I allowed myself to entertain the idea of getting a new phone even though my current phone works just fine.  I could picture it: Me with my new phone at the mall, holding a Coach™ bag and wearing skinny jeans with a tunic cinched up by a wide belt.  I looked beautiful in my daydream—and trendy, too.  Everyone wanted to be me.  Everyone waited until I passed to whisper to their friend, “Wow, look at her—she’s incredible!  And beautiful.  She is the epitome of all things graceful.”

All because of my new phone.

Umm…reality check, please.  Seriously?  Did I actually allow myself to be suckered in to the ridiculous notion that stuff—STUFF!—is going to change who I am as a person?  That because of the stuff I do or don’t have, or the clothes I do or don’t wear (but then, I almost always wear clothes, so never mind), people will view me as a better or worse person?  If that’s true, then people are pretty lame.

I liked what Annie Leonard said in the Story of Stuff, on the subject of this pop culture mindset {emphasis added}:

Our current paradigm dictates that more stuff is better, that infinite economic growth is desirable and possible, and that pollution is the price of progress. To really turn things around, we need to nurture a different paradigm based on the values of sustainability, justice, health, and community.

“What we really need to chuck is that old-school throw-away mindset.”

I was also inspired by my blog-friend Anna, who recently wrote about her own cell phone’s lengthy demise (she held onto hers for quite a lot longer than the old me ever would have):

“I have a really hard time buying something I don’t need, which is most everything I buy. We need food, but do we need that much and that kind? No, not really. We need clothes, but do we need all those clothes? Definitely not.
“…A little piece of me is still accepting the fact that my old phone still works but I’m not using it. In fact, for a second I considered using my old phone until it completely broke. I hate getting rid of things that still work, I feel so wasteful. I like to wear things to death, and if I upgrade, it’s because something is no longer usable, not just because I can and not just because I want to.”
I was talking to Poor Kyle about this again last week, trying with all my might to enlighten him toward the green movement, and he still thought I should have a new phone.  Finally, when nothing else I said had worked, I exploded with a vehement declaration:
“No!  I don’t care if every other sneetch has a star on his belly and everyone laughs at me for being the only one who doesn’t!  I DO NOT NEED A THNEED!
sneetchesImage from here.
For the smallest of instants, Poor Kyle looked at me, shocked—I think it took him a minute to remember his childhood years and put together my cryptic exclamation.  Soon, though, he started to crack a faint smile, which became a grin, which then grew into a chuckle, and soon, an earth-shaking belly laugh.
And while it’s true that I combined a few different Dr. Seuss stories to get to my point (Star-Bellied Sneetches and The Lorax), but after our gut-wrenching laughter subsided, Poor Kyle admitted defeat.  He understood my rationalisation.  Finally.
Thank you, Dr. Seuss.  You were ahead of your time.
But spell-check really hates you, you glubbering, dubbering, funwubbering man.
Posted in Cutting Back, Green Living, Married Life | Tagged , , , | 12 Comments

Transformers 2: Less Than Meets the Eye

Optimus Prime

I just got back from seeing Transformers 2, which may as well be the same thing as me saying I just got back from getting all four wisdom teeth re-pulled.

Don’t spend the money.  Don’t even spend the free movie passes that Great Aunt Henrietta gave you for your birthday last year, even if they are about to expire and nothing else looks good to you—anything would be better.

It’s very rare occasion for me to dislike a movie.  I’m quite easy to please, really.  I’m not picky.  I like all kinds of movies—happy, sad, romance, mystery, scary, drama, whatev.  I liked Iron Man.  I like Spiderman.  I liked other action-packed flicks.  Shoot, I even liked the first Transformers.  But I did not like this one.

First of all, it’s rated PG in Canada (PG-13 in the United States, which I think is much more appropriate), but there were several parts where I actually felt a teensy bit uncomfortable because of crudeness.  I will warn you right now: if you see this movie, you will see a bum (and frontal) shot of a man in a thong.  So there you go.

Second, it was seriously lacking in dialogue.  After we left the theatre, I leaned over to Poor Kyle and said, “I’m pretty sure that out of that two-and-a-half-hour movie, the actual spoken lines could be summed up in ten minutes.”  He agreed, and not just because he was hoping for a little some’n some’n later tonight.  I know, I know, it was an action movie.  But would it kill them to write words, too?

Third, about that action (no, not Poor Kyle’s—the movie’s!):  There was a lot of it.  And those transformers, they come with all kinds of tiny mechanised pieces, and it was really hard for me to keep track of who was transforming into what while simultaneaously pummeling which transformer (who was also morphing at the same time).  Nearly every scene, from beginning to end, consisted of something being blown or crushed to bits and pieces.  After an hour, I was looking at the clock on my phone and thinking, “Is this seriously not even halfway over yet?”

Its only redeeming qualities were Dwight Schrute (brief role, though, folks—don’t get too excited) and the one soldier with alarmingly white teeth:

Tyrese GibsonThose brilliant white teeth of his were amazing to watch.  Image from here.

Since the movie was so overly filled with ridiculously booming action that made no sense to me, I was, of course, tremendously bored.  I kept myself occupied by trying to figure out why I recognised this actor:

Josh DuhamelImage from here.

I’m ashamed to admit that it took me almost ten minutes to figure out it was Tad Hamilton.  What kind of person forgets the main actor from such a profoundly life-changing movie?  Not only do I quote Win a Date With Tad Hamilton on a near-daily basis, but I actually incorporate those lines into my normal life.  “Similes!  Bring me similes!”

The best part of me leaving the house to see the movie was that I got to see a trailer for the next Harry Potter, and I just pretended I was watching that for the duration of Transformers, instead of the reality.

My Vote: All Thumbs Down.

Did you see it?  Am I right in my assessment, or did you like it?  If so…what am I missing?

Posted in do what I say, failures, reviews | Tagged , | 14 Comments

Detox—Day One

Yesterday marked my first day of the detox that I’m already suspicious of.

For those of you who have expressed concern over my health and the grave danger of detoxing one’s own body, please.  Fear not.  I am not doing a lemon-cayenne pepper-water-honey-Grade B maple syrup detox.  I am not doing a water-only fast.  I am not denying my body nutrients.  I am not starving myself.

What I am doing is eating stringently healthy for a period of time, and not breaking a single rule.  My idea of a detox.

So.  Yesterday’s detox meal plan went like this:

Breakfast—I slept in until 8, and when I woke up, I just didn’t feel like eating.  No breakfast.

Lunch—One big tomato and a hard-boiled egg.  This was surprisingly filling, though, as per the regulations of the detox, I did not salt either.  The tomato didn’t taste too bad without salt, but the egg seemed sorely under-flavoured.  I need to train myself not to crave salt.

Dinner—My goal was to create some amazing GOOP-style recipe and go to bed feeling like a movie star.  It didn’t happen.  In the end, I threw together every “permitted” food within arm’s reach, mixed them in a bowl with a dash of lemon juice, and noshed.  It was 1 can chick peas, 1/2 onion, 1 tomato, and 1 avocado.  It wasn’t very good, but I ate half of the concoction and felt full (or at least, I couldn’t bring myself to choke down even one more bite), so that was that.

I also snacked on cucumbers throughout the day.

I drank a substantial amount of water, but my goal for today is to drink even more—target: one gallon.  I want my pee to run clear as a gurgling mountain stream by the end of the day.

Although I’m not doing the detox necessarily to lose weight, I am interested to see if it will help me work through the self-inflicted plateau I’ve landed on for the past few months.  So, for record-keeping purposes, it’s only right to announce that I started the detox weighing 143.8 (but we’ll call it 144).  My original goal back in January was to get down to 140, and I’d like to do it just to say I did.  We’ll see…

The good news is that today is grocery shopping day.  New month, new budget…new PRODUCE.  Delicious.  If I can just get my hands on a decent watermelon, all will be good and well.

watermelonImage from here.

Nothing cleans out the colon like a giant bowl of watermelon.

Posted in change, Cutting Back, health and vitality, It's All Good | Tagged | 12 Comments

A Broken Heart That’s Still Beating.

Ow, Pain.

Have you ever heard the song “Broken,” by Lifehouse?  I just did for the first time.  It seemed to be exactly what I needed on this miserable Monday morning.  One lyric in particular struck a chord (pun) with me:

“In the pain there is healing.”

Why do we have pain?

I typed that sentence, “Why do we have pain?” into Google’s™ search bar, and a page from kidshealth.org popped up.  Here’s an excerpt (emphasis added):

…People don’t come with warning lights, like the lights on a car dashboard that let the driver know when the car is low on oil or gas.  We need the sensation of pain to let us know when our bodies need extra care. It’s an important signal.

When we sense pain, we pay attention to our bodies and can take steps to fix what hurts. Pain also may prevent us from injuring a body part even more. If it didn’t hurt to walk on a broken leg, a person might keep using it and cause more damage…

So it looks like Lifehouse got it right.  In the pain, there is healing after all.  When we feel pain, it means we’re on our way to recovery, or at the very least, we’re on our way to realising that something is wrong; with any luck, we’ll take the necessary steps to fix the problem.

I used to hate pain, but I’m starting to recognise that it is good in its own right.

So I’m going to become a cutter.

Just kidding.  I could never do that—I would be too queasy.  But seriously…I’m going to try to embrace pain that I feel instead of shoving it away to the recesses of my mind, like I normally do.  That doesn’t mean I intend to purposely hurt myself, or cause unnecessary pain; rather, I’m just not going to let it scare me any more.

For anyone in pain this Monday morning, I recommend this song—“Broken,” by Lifehouse (and thanks Tierra, for the recent recommendation):

And if you are hurting today, maybe it will help to know…

…I feel your pain.

Posted in change, good tunes, I hate change, in all seriousness, introspection, mondays suck, sad things | Tagged , | 10 Comments

Boiled Water for the Detoxed Soul

Well, I’ve been detoxing my hair for three weeks now, and I feel like my life is changed.

Do you realise how monumental this is, my friends?  I HAVE NOT USED SHAMPOO OR CONDITIONER ON MY HAIR FOR THREE WEEKS, and I’m still alive to tell the tale.

No 'Poo Week 3Even when I first wake up in the morning—a time of day generally known for the most atrocious of hairstyles—my hair doesn’t look half bad.  I’m not being arrogant or cocky; I’m not saying that my hair is beautiful, wonderful, the best hair in the land…but really, for just-out-of-bed hair, it’s not too shabby…

No 'Poo Week 3It won’t win me any awards, but it’s a lot better than I expected.

Since the detox of my hair has gone so well, I’ve decided to detox the rest of my self.

Starting Monday, I’m going on a detox.  It’s going to be amazing.  I am going to eat no dairy, no gluten, no sugar, no red meat, and no white flour.  There will be a lot of lettuce involved.  It will be the first time in my life I will attempt to eat a salad without SOME sort of dressing on it.

It’s just starting to hit me what a big deal this is.  “How hard could it be,” I thought, “I’ll just have a bowl of cereal for breakfast.” Oh wait.  No milk.  “Well, then I’ll just have toast.” Oh wait.  No gluten.  “Well, then I’ll just have bacon.” Oh wait.  No red meat.  I guess I’ll just have a bowl of quinoa with a splash of water for…flavour.

Dadgummit.

I’m not doing it alone, though.  My new e-friend, Kate Lines, of Kate Lines Photography notoriety, is joining me in this detoxification quest {to be completely honest [and I’m always completely honest], it was her idea in the first place}.

And to be honest again, I don’t really believe in detoxes.  I have always sort of considered them a hoax.  But ever since the No ‘Poo movement went so well for me, material for my blog has run sort of dry.  {I mean, weren’t you all secretly hoping for that experiment to fail so I could drag it out for weeks?  But here it is, working wonders for my hair, and my updates are becoming really boring.  “Day 1—Good hair.  Day 7—Good hair.  Day 14—Good hair.  It’s getting kind of old.}

But back to how I think detoxes are sort of a hoax:  Dr. Oz doesn’t believe in detoxes, so how can I be expected to?  (I believe in Dr. Oz, though.  I believe in him like I believe in karma, Santa Claus,d and four-leafed clovers.)  I don’t really think it’s going to be worth it.  My only hope is that it will draw me into a weakened physical state which, in turn, should (could?) heighten my spirituality and mental agility.  Sort of like a Ghandi peace fast—I’ll have a Ghandi fast for brilliance.  It will be like chicken soup for my soul.  Well, I won’t be allowed to drink chicken broth, or sodium, so it’s actually more like a pot of hot boiling water for my soul.    I need a revelation.

I need blog fodder.

If nothing else, I can wax poetic about how miserable I am every day.

Anyone else care to join us?  It should be a good time.

p.s.  I’ll be off the internet for a few days, so don’t get your feelings hurt if I’m not emailing you back right away.  Have a happy Fourth of July!

Posted in change, Cutting Back, health and vitality, It's All Good, oh brother what next | Tagged , | 23 Comments

Reflections on 7-ELEVEN™ and Other Childhood Sundries.

It’s 7:11 a.m. as I sit to type this post.

I opened my laptop at 7:10 a.m., and waited until 7:11, because I like that time better.  I like times that mean something to me…

…Now it’s 7:12.  Sad.

Sure, special times only last a minute, but they come around twice a day, every day, like clockwork.  Pun intended.  Pun always intended.

7-11teeImage from here.

Whenever I notice it’s 7:11, I am instantly transported to my youth.  7-ELEVEN™ (convenience stores, for anyone outside North America).  Suicide Slurpees™.  Bubble Yum™—is that the name of that bubble gum that comes in SIX FOOT STRIPS ROLLED UP LIKE TAPE IN A TAPE DISPENSER?  Man, that gum was revolutionary.

bubble-tape_bubble_gumImage from here.

Op, no—I just Googled™ it.  Not Bubble Yum™.  It’s Bubble Tape™ (go figure).

We didn’t get it often—my parents weren’t the indulgent sort.  In fact, I’m fairly certain the only time we would have had our own six-foot strip of Bubble Tape™ (as opposed to a pity-piece ripped off one of my rich friends’ strips) was when we saved our own money to buy it.  We had to work as kids, my sister and me.  I hated it then, but I can’t say I’d do anything different with my own children.  Allowance?  Nonsense.  Go get a job.  There’s no such thing as free Bubble Tape™.

I can’t remember the last time I chewed bubble gum.  My sister has this lifelong pet peeve of people who chew their gum with their mouths open, and pop their bubbles loudly for all the world to hear.  She used to beat me up when she heard me chewing my piece of scavenged Bubble Tape™.  Consequently, I am paranoid, to this day, to pop my gum in public.  “Chomping gum,” she calls it.  I guess I’m worried she’ll hear me all the way from Arizona and fly to Canada to beat me up.  She’s strong, but I can run faster.  At least, I used to could.  Now she runs marathons, so I guess I’m out of luck.  Did you plan that, sister?

At this point in my life, 7-ELEVEN™ carries a different connotation than pink bubble gum and multi-coloured frozen sugar drinks.  It reminds me of Poor Kyle, who has been known to walk in to a 7-ELEVEN™ and walk back out $20.00 poorer.  Who even spends $20.00 at the 7-ELEVEN™? Have you?  I haven’t.  And it’s not like he buys cigarettes or booze.  Just treats.  Pop.  Chips.  Nachos.  Taquitos.  Chicken on a stick (which really is delicious, in case you’re wondering).  My husband just lives for treats.  He’s fun like that.

He is propelled by fun.  When we have kids, he’s going to be the favourite parent.  No, seriously.  I believe in firmness and follow-through…discipline and structure.  I’m Supernanny’s most avid student.  My children will never ask me for permission if their father is around, because they’ll know he’ll give a better answer.  I’ll be the mean mom.  Poor Kyle, on the other hand…

…he’ll probably buy them Bubble Tape™ from 7-ELEVEN™ on a regular basis.

It’s 7:37 a.m.

****************************

***I remember when I was a kid.  I imagine the future with my own children.  This has been posted along with Jen’s Spin Cycle, the topic of which is “Kids” this week.  Head over to this post on her blog for more of the kidliest posts on the internet.***

Posted in introspection, kid stuffs, looking back, Married Life, self-actualisation, this little girl | Tagged , | 19 Comments

Happy Birthday, Canada.

Hand-drawn Canadian Flag

If you’re reading this post on Wednesday, CONGRATULATIONS!  It’s Canada Day!  (If you’re reading it a bit early on Tuesday night, go ahead and stop.  Just come back tomorrow.  Or stay.  Either way works for me.  I’m not bossy, right?  Say I’m not bossy.  SAY IT!  All RIGHT, then.)

In honour of Canada’s 142nd birthday, I would like to recognise this song (wait at least 10 seconds before you shut it off—it gets better {I’m not bossy}), because nothing gets me in the mood for a national holiday like a good, old-fashioned rap:

My favourite line:

Our national mascot’s a d@mn beaver, oh Canada, we love our beaver! He rhymed beaver with beaver, and I’m kicking myself for not thinking of it first.

I mean, how can this song not make you smile?  Plus, the horrible singing of the national anthem at the beginning and end of rap—that’s just endearing.

Also, I have a few things to say to this country that is not my own but has graciously let me marry one of its citizens…

Dear Canada,

First of all, happy birthday, you son of a gun!  One hundred forty-two—eight more years and you’ll be one fifty, and that’s when the party can really begin.

Canada Day Flag

I’d like to thank you for letting me live here, despite the fact that I’m an American by birth.  I know it’s hard for you, letting me across your border when you think I don’t respect you, but really, I do.  Respect you, that is, and I appreciate the fact that you’ve allowed me to live here so graciously.  (Although that one immigration officer in Calgary could have been a little sweeter, but he was probably just having an off day.  All’s well, eh?)  Actually, come to think of it, you haven’t really been gracious at all—I sort of get the feeling you think I’m beneath you or something.  I mean, making me jump through all these ridiculous legal hoops just so I can work here, and subsequently pay taxes to your government?  That’s just rude.  Canada, I’m an honest tax payer—I’ll pay!  I promise.

Plus, my status as an international student has caused me a lot of heartache—paying $1,000 per class, Canada?  Just to get my dadgum English degree?  Is that really necessary?

Canada Day Flag2

Ah, well, I’m sure that’s just the way things go.  It’s probably not your fault so much as it is the university’s, but if I could just become a legal resident…  Think about it, will ya, Canada?

I don’t mean to be only negative.  It’s your birthday, after all.  Oh, I know!  Thank you so much for the generous tax rebate you gave to Poor Kyle this year—we’re going to wait until your money is on par with the U.S. dollar, and pay off Tamra Camry!  What a great feeling that will be…now, if only she was still running.  Too bad your icy roads made me wreck her this winter.  She hasn’t seen the light of day since February, poor thing.

And what’s with that, anyway, Canada?  I mean, winter this year?  Were you for real?

Canadian Snow in April 2009

That was totally absurd.  It nearly made me lose my mind, going so many days driving soooooo slow down those snow-packed highways.  Even in Thor, it wasn’t any fun.  I actually yelled at you kind of a lot because of it.  Sorry ’bout that.

Spring Lawn CanadaI will admit, though, that you made up for winter with a glorious summer.  Just don’t let that snowy nonsense happen again, okay?

Another good thing about you is your willingness to pay me for recycled cans, since I can’t legally work for my money any other way.  That’s quite thoughtful, really.  I’m becoming one of those crazy bag ladies who wanders the street with a garbage sack, searching for cans (ten cents a piece!) under trees and rocks.  So thanks.

Canada Day3

Anyway, the point is, even if you are a frigid country who doesn’t like me much, I still like you.  At least, I like you enough to wish you happy birthday.  Happy birthday.

Sincerely,

Camille

Posted in Canada | Tagged | 15 Comments