Category Archives: Life

A Useless Guide to Sewing Stockings

Posted in Blogging and Other Fun, Fun, Life, Novels and Stories, Writing by

I grew up with one giant red stocking. My grandmother made it for me šŸ™‚ Itā€™s red felt, and has some reminants of glitter glue on it. Back when we were little and Santa was as real as real could be, it felt like a darn tooinā€™ miracle to walk into the living room Christmas morning and see those stocking filled with goodies.

Stocking LoveActually, it still does. My parents have been pretty awesome with that tradition. Though theyā€™ve always said how the stocking my grandmother made were far too large. Itā€™s been in my head for a while. The thing is, we could go out and buy new stockings ā€“ but Lulu made these all by herself. How can you replace homemade memories?

Well you cannot replace them. But I was thinking to myself, and decided that Zsolt and I need little stockings that we can take with us wherever we may be for the Holidays, be it Canada, Hungary or the moon. So, I decided to sew us Christmas stockings.

Stocking Z and C

Hereā€™s my how-to-list for making Christmas stockings, from someone who really cannot sew.

1) pick out pretty material. I picked mine up from a shop called Fabrications in Hintonburg.

2) Pick out some soft stuff to add to the material. Only do this is if you want to make your life more complicated. Sewer Beware, this is a time-adder to the project. Though I do think it is worthwhile. I picked up some raw felt from the knitting shop Wabi Sabi in Hintonburg.

2.5) Watch a Youtube video on how to use a sewing machine . . . after you find yourself one. You can also handstich, but be prepared to take forever.

3) Figure it out!

Forget patterns, I Lady McGuivered it by just piling the materials on top of one another, did some pinning and cutting out a vague, large sock-like shape. This resulted in several errors and a lot of repining. Each sock is unique, because Iā€™m terrible at planning. So one is really wide, and the other is really tall.

4) Sew it all together somehow. First I almost sewed it backwards. Then I ripped that out and started again. Except the edges were raw. So I cut a strip to cover that up. Eventually I resorted to hand-stitching certain sections that somehow estocking for Zscaped the chomp of the sewing machine.

5) The details matter. Seconds before I was about to cut into my felt for the Z and the C lettering, once again about to freestyle the letters ā€“ I thought, hey, why not print out a letter and just trace it?

 

I did, and it turned out beautifully. Because these stockings are meant to be life-long stockings, I didnā€™t just glue on the letters, but instead stitched them on.

And voila! Lovely Christmas stockings.

No matter how meandering and ridiculous the process, they got there in the end. Iā€™m quite pleased.

And speaking of being pleased. Iā€™m focusing on enjoying life a bit more this month. After the puddles of misery throughout November with waiting for & receiving scan results, I wanted to stop being sad all the damn time. That is my big goal for 2015 that I made during my parents workshop.

So, that means a few big changes that Iā€™ll talk about later, but also one pretty important one Iā€™ll talk about now.

I signed up for National Novel Writing Month, and finished the 50,000 in one month! It felt incredible and bizarre. At the start of the month it really seemed impossible, but by the end I was rolling. If I could give myself time to write 2000 words a day, do you realize how much I could write? TONS.

2014_winner_certificate

So, what Iā€™d really like to give myself this year to help make life more liveable is the gift of TIME.

TIME to do what I love. TIME to clean my apartment. TIME to write 2000 words. TIME to get together with friends. TIME for my writing podcast. TIME to exercise. TIME to play.

That means shaving off time from other things. It means a bit of change and letting things go that I have wanted to do, and still want to do. But at this point, I think what really matters is just finding a way to not cry so often. Silly things like Christmas stockings are part of that.

So there you go, a useless guide for sewing stockings, and the gift of time. Thatā€™s me. Thatā€™s all I have to say about that. Happy holidays. šŸ˜‰

Happy pictureSpeaking of fun, we had a really good time recording our latest podcast over at our writing show. Here is a link if you feel like having a listen as you wash dishes or something. šŸ™‚

Happy Fun Times in Toronto

Posted in Bumpboobs, Canada, Fun, Life by

Zsolt and I have run away to eploe! Actually no, weā€™ve been married for five years. But thatā€™s a fun sentence to write. Zsolt and I have actually run away for mini vacation – or ā€˜mini breakā€™ as they say in England. This weekend we are in Toronto for the Mirror Ball, but also, we decided that while weā€™re down here, we would catch us a NBA Basketball game with the Toronto Raptors.

Raptors Game

And thatā€™s exactly what we did last night. Oh my goodness, I donā€™t think my husbandā€™s smile can get any larger than it was yesterday evening.

So, we left Ottawa thinking it might be tight, but thereā€™s at least be time for me to tap a post-drive nap in the hotel room before hussling to the game. Wrong. We left way too late, and arrived way too late. Thereā€™s wasnā€™t even time for me to grab dinner from Chipolte, which Iā€™d been craving on the drive down.

ā€œWe can get hotdogs at the game. Itā€™ll be the full game experience,ā€ says Zsolt in the hotel room as we realize there is no time for a proper dinner.

Anyhow, it was late and we were late so we busted a move out of the hotel room and set off on the subway toward the Air Canada Center. (Personal beef moment: What is up with Air Canada now charging for the first piece of checked luggage? They do it because they can do it. But thatā€™s a grade-A discount airline move, and not at all impressive).

Right so, weā€™re in the subway riding along to the game. Thereā€™s a connection at Bloor or something. Connection caught.

ā€œItā€™s too bad we didnā€™t bring the camera,ā€ I say. Because these are the moments you want a camera for, right?

ā€œAugh!ā€ says Zsolt. He is upset we didnā€™t bring the camera.

And then the next moment, he goes, ā€œHey, did we bring the printed tickets with us?ā€

And I go. ā€œAUgh!ā€

No, we didnā€™t.

We did however bring the mobile phone which is steadily heading toward zero charge. BUT, if we can just download the Ticketmaster app and bring up our account the online tickets will be there. So we get off the metro, and begin downloading the app. Itā€™s about 15 minutes till the game starts. Meanwhile the phone is having itā€™s own countdown of battery life 20 percent, 18 percent, 16 percent…

Eventually the app uploads, (after we gave it access to everything on the phone in a desperate attempt to hurry things along) and we have the tickets.

Then we bust a move to who knows where. All I know is one minute there are a lot of people, then a lady giving directions, following by me charging through the crowd, across the street, up an escalator over a bridge and then, finally, when we hit about 12 percent charge on the phone and our tickets, security to get in.

Whew.

Zsolt buys is six dollar hotdog. Itā€™s a Nate hotdog, so I ask him if it tastes like New York. He tells me it tastes like Hungary, and believe you me that is not a compliment.

One last flash of the ticket to the usher, an weā€™re in our seats!! (And lucky for that, I didnā€™t realize we had to show the ticket again!)

What followed was basketball bliss. Zsolt was ā€˜Woohooā€™ing and explaining the more complex rules, and whenever there was a chance of winning a t-shirt he stood up and waved his arms while I held the jackets and pretended we werenā€™t so, so, so high up. The guy had an amazing time. I havenā€™t seen him have such a good time in a while. It really made me happy to see him so happy.

Sometimes I forget that Zsolt is going through a lot of stuff. With work and CT scans, he goes through so much. If I could give him a Raptorā€™s game every weekend, I would. But maybe itā€™s even more special for being a first-time treat.

We are happy with the scan results. I am not quite so happy, okay, to be honest ā€“ because the cancer stopped itā€™s shrinking and a couple spots may have possibly grown, with the appearance of what may be a new tiny spot. The oncologist says that it might have been there all along, and results on such small scales depends on how the CT scan cuts when taking a picture. And so we wait till the next scan to know more, and see if stable really is stable.

In the meanwhile, we are here in Toronto, and we got to see our first NBA game. How awesome is that? It is awesome. And now onto my kind of fun ā€“ the Mirror Ball!! WOoohOO!!!

 

The Bizzaroness of Not Being Liked

Posted in Bumpboobs, Life by

Ever piss someone off so badly that they completely stop making eye contact with you and pull a passive aggressive routine when you attempt to interact with them? Yeah? Me too!

Iā€™m not sure how many people in this world hold an official grudge against me, but I reckon it isnā€™t too many. For sure that security guy at that airport in Toronto definitely had a beef with me. That was a strange one. One second Iā€™m going through the security check-in worrying mostly about whether my prosthesis would set off any alarms if I had to have a pat down ā€“ and debating whether it would be more worthwhile to tuck it into my carryon bag where a different security guard would see it via an x-ray and be like ā€œshe has a boob in her bag!ā€ ā€“ when all of a sudden, Iā€™m in front of this guard, and he says something that feels weird to me, and I say something feels rude to him, and suddenly it becomes extremely tense.

But in general, I prefer someone to feel respected and appreciate. And for sure I hate to feel like garbage in response (which means I hate getting into trouble of any kind). Okay, maybe there has been a couple times like the above, etc, when what I did was definitely not taken as I meant it to be taken ā€“ and then as a response to that, I reacted in a way that wasnā€™t so productive because some part of me automatically flips into ā€˜smart assā€™ mode. (Smart-Ass Catherine has such a good time. Seriously, I kinda love that part of me, but hate the bad feelings that always follow.)

Anyhow, in todayā€™s case, Iā€™ve upset someone. The trouble here is that I am not exactly sure what I did that was so deep-grudge worthy. And upon my approaching this person to discuss the bizzaro tension between us today, I was quickly shut down by some hard-core denial on their side about our obvious situation.

While not being liked definitely makes me uncomfortable and is currently taking up some head space, particularly since I interact with this person quite often lately . . . it also makes me feel kind of . . . well . . . not terrible.

For instance, I donā€™t feel terrible for thinking they are acting like a passive-aggressive idiot.

And I donā€™t feel terrible for standing up for myself and not accepting their garbage.

And I definitely donā€™t feel terrible for what might have pissed them off originally, if that is indeed the thing that pissed them off.

AND I donā€™t feel terrible for now not trying to be nice, anymore.

Okay, I know that everyone has their own stories that result in the way they see and react to the world. And I know that the way a person acts toward me, or I toward them, often only minimally has to do with that actual interaction and has far more to do with deeper issues. I know all of that.

But sometimes it is really tempting to say: ā€œfuck off and stay out of my way.ā€ You know? Iā€™m not saying this should be the answer to world peace. Iā€™m just saying, it feels good – at least in my head.

I tried to open up a conversation to address the tension- but that crashed and burned. If they arenā€™t ready to not be angry, than I really canā€™t do anything about it. So here are the options: Iā€™d rather 1) not have to be around this person as they stew in whatever they are stewing . . . however, it cannot be helped, so, therefore, I am looking forward to the day that I 2) get over their anger – so much so that it doesnā€™t faze me when they refuse to talk, look or work directly with me. That is called a ‘thick skin’ right? Right. It’s a skill to be learned, and I know this is really a “no big deal” situaiton so maybe it’s a good way to train my skin for thickness.

Anyhow, I am not used to being so openly disliked. This will need processing on my side, too. In some ways, I might as well be grateful for the weekly distraction of tension since tomorrow morning I get scan results, which is definitely one case where I have no trouble asserting my honest reaction to a situation:

Dear cancer,

Fuck off and die.

Sincerely, the body that doesn’t need you any more. i.e. Catherine