One More ...

Dear Friends,

I’ve given the word procrastinator a whole new meaning, mostly because I’ve never been one!

One more push, one more rep, one more round, one more jump — it doesn’t really matter what I call it, it’s the ONE MOREness of it that has me crippled! I can call it LAST, to provoke some stimulus, but still it won’t diminish the magnitude of the effort that I have to make, for this one last move.

If God Almighty has given us all a deck of cards, to use strategically on our path of life, I believe I might've been left only with the Joker! 
Of course, I’ve scratched out a few minor items from my to-do-list; however I spend most of my weekends getting rid of certain things and stocking up on others. I can't see myself getting off this Sisyphusish merry-go-round any time soon. I wish I could splurge and hire a project manager to take over my chores for the next few months, and wake me up sometime in August, in Cobourg. 

Maybe, I ran out of steam (finally)! Maybe I just can’t wait for my new life to begin, or maybe, I just want to savour every remaining minute of what’s left of this one, without unnecessary (or necessary) interferences. 

Another weekend has come and gone, and all I can say is: I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.

― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

Have philosophizing and blogging become my supplementary delaying tactics? 

The Last Dress-Rehearsal

Dear Friends,

Today, my students were exceptionally brilliant. After writing an instructional piece (how to put on a good show), in the morning, they backed up their words in the afternoon and staged an amazing show. It included comedy routine, song and dance.

They were focused, confident; punch lines on time, voices clear and expressive. They sang cheerfully and moved to the music flawlessly. I was very proud of them, and a bit proud of myself, too.  All the lectures, rehearsals and praises had paid off. The yelling hadn't been ineffective either! 

As my students’ peers applauded them enthusiastically, and my colleagues complimented me, I realized that I had just put on my last show!

Tonight, an unsettling question is gnawing at me; do I still belong with students?

Perhaps if the winter had been milder, my Christmas holidays happier and my Chi more fluid, I would’ve been less depleted. 
I have to accept that I don’t want to go, but I have to. Not because I’ve publicized my intentions, but because henceforward I have to put myself first. I just hope that I can make me as happy, as my students have managed to make me for 23 years!

The Immortal Mortality

Dear Friends,

When you have too much time on your hands, you end up watching Super Soul Sunday with Oprah!
She was in conversation with Shirley MacLaine, so I sat down to learn what else these two spiritual gurus had to say. Shirley MacLaine is probably the only living actor from my childhood. Although performers are immortally mortal, when one with whom I grew up dies, I feel an incredible void.   
Actually, I'm a bit obsessed with life and death of actors. Without fail, every time I watch "in memorandum" portion of any award ceremony, I believe all members of the industry are having the same thought; one day, I will not be here, but up there, on the screen, affiliated with the Departed Club.  Maybe, they don't, but I do, for them!

When you are in your intimate social circle, sharing, laughing, celebrating, do you ever wonder who amongst you gonna go first? I know, it's a morbid thought (especially on the brink of retirement), but I can't stop it from popping into my head, every so often. There is a movie called, The Cemetery Club, quite uplifting actually, that touches on this same topic. I might watch it tonight. After all, aren't we alive only when we think of death? Before getting out there to get myself some sub-zero sunshine, I'll leave you with another uplifting message!

“And now let us love and take that which is given us, and be happy; for in the grave there is no love and no warmth, nor any touching of the lips. Nothing perchance, or perchance but bitter memories of what might have been.” 
― H. Rider Haggard, She

Blessed!

Dear Friends,
It's almost midnight. Silence is slightly disturbed by the sound of my middle finger running across the keyboard of my MacBook Pro. I'm very tired, I should really take advantage of the quietness and crawl into bed. It was a long day, lots of shopping, preparation and dirty dishes —  as it should've been. What's a celebration without cooking, cleaning and entertaining! Not that I had a big party, only my children and grandchildren, but my enthusiasm remains oblivious to the size of my home and energy level. 
So, another spring has arrived (in the middle of winter), with the same old agenda; new life, new promises, new hopes and resolutions. Thank God I've learned to play the future by ear, although I'm tone-deaf! Perhaps that's why I constantly drift, unable to establish or renew so many contracts every year! But, tonight, I'm at peace, centered. I can't help but acknowledge that I'm blessed. Not only because I've washed and put away all my dishes, or that I've stored enough leftovers for the next two weeks, but because I have the privilege of being Here, Now!

Good or Stupid?

Dear Friends,
We all like to believe that we are good people, but are we? What does being good really mean?
Does not killing, stealing, cheating, lying or embezzling make us good? Or, do they simply make us not guilty. Is not being "bad" good enough to make us fine?
All of these nutty questions came to me at midnight, naturally. My mind and I were up till dawn, tossing and turning, philosophizing, tossing and turning, and then philosophizing some more.
Earlier in the evening, I'd informed my elderly tenants of my plans to move to Cobourg. The thought of inconveniencing them at their age upset me. Furthermore, they loved their home of six years and were renting below market value. 
My conversation with Mrs. B, my tenant, started with, I'm so sorry, and it ended with, I'm so sorry. She was very understanding, which made me feel even worse. When she told me she was going through her annual depression, but she will be fine, my heart broke.
I wished her husband had answered the phone. He feels entitled. He wouldn't have taken the path of least resistance. His accusations would've angered me. Then, I could've told him that I hadn't raised the rent in six years, that I'd repaired whatever they had broken immediately and that I was giving them more than three months notice. But, alas, all I got to say was, I'm so sorry!
Finally, as my body was pushing my mind into oblivion, I heard myself confess, I am a bad person. 
I should be able to make other arrangements, even if I cannot afford to. Would that make me good, or stupid?
I hope Mr. B doesn't put a curse on me. Those of you who read my Christmas adventures know that I'm already operating under another malediction, my mother's. I'm afraid all these old people's sighs will eventually seize and destroy me, as we say in Farsi. That's why I took some precautions and gave my tenants notice, in the old year! May the New Year bring only Joy for everyone! 
Happy spring! 

Nowruz

Dear Friends,
Superstitions, superstitions!

Nowruz, the Persian New Year, is around the corner. In my culture, as in many others, one must welcome the New Year in new clothes! Yesterday, I asked myself whether in the midst of all these upcoming cuts and expenses (pension, moving, painting, disconnecting, and reconnecting fees), it was really necessary for me to celebrate the first day of spring in new garments. The answer was simple - Of course!

I’m very superstitious. Not only I need new clothes, but I also need new shoes, to walk happily through life, with confidence, and a new bag to hide the old baggage!  

At first I took myself to lower end stores. Then I realized that I’m not rich enough to buy cheap anymore, as the Brits say. So, I headed towards the labels. I like to texturize and mix and mismatch, but this time, I opted for an independent, self-sufficient dress (you know, the kind that doesn’t need embellishment). Few names over, with the money that I didn't spend on accessorizing my already busy black-and-white polka-dot dress, I bought another frock, equally self-supporting. 

On my way out, I stopped at the Clarins counter and bought a bottle of Huile Orchidée Bleue (believe me, its aroma is as intoxicating as its name)! Rationale? I might as well shop while I can! I just hope that now that I’m so watchful of my weight, shopping doesn’t become my next anxiety muffler. God knows my angsts outnumber my dollar bills! 

The winter bla, bla, blahs!

Dear Friends,

I thought yesterday was a good day. It certainly started well; a nutritious breakfast, a vigorous workout session, a healthy lunch, a fun movie and an uplifting blog posting, laced with gratitude! But then, at around three o’clock, something snapped. I’m not sure exactly what, but I know it did!

A whole box of cookies, a large bag of chips, a tub of yogurt and a tablet of chocolate later, I still hadn’t solved the mystery. At first, I thought perhaps the idea of displacing myself again had distressed me. After all, moving to Cobourg is not as easy and cheap as one might think. Then, I thought maybe the array of paint chips I’d picked up at Benjamin Moore had overwhelmed me (I can’t decide what colour to stare at, for the rest of my life). It was only around dinnertime (yes, I still needed to eat something) that I recognized the culprit! The weather had destroyed my willpower to stay away from the three deadly S’s, sugar, salt and starch! Due to the poor driving conditions, all my plans had fallen through. My granddaughters didn't come for a visit; I couldn’t take the bus to my friend’s and of course, scouting Iranian stores in north end of the city was definitely out of the question. Furthermore, I found something very unsettling about seven o’clock at night, daylight and snowstorm, all in the same window frame.

It might not be the job, the fragile health, or the shattered nerves, that are pushing me into retirement, but the damn weather! I’m not sure how today (extreme cold alert) will unfold, but I think I’m going to launch a lawsuit against my ex-husband, for bringing me to this godforsaken climate! 

Sneak Preview!

Dear Friends,

If this week (March Break) is a sneak preview of what retirement will look like, I'm sold on the idea!   

Morning after morning, Body, oblivious to the sound of the ticking clock, wakes up naturally. The taste of breakfast lingers on the palate for as long as it desires, without being bullied by the minty taste of the toothpaste. Healthy food is bought, cooked and eaten without stress, far from the rush hour frenzy. Mind enjoys the quiet and Vanity has all the time she needs to scrutinize new wrinkles, pores, and other deficiencies. 
So far it has been peaceful, yet eventful. There have been coffee dates, working out sessions, lunching, shopping, visiting with granddaughters, reading, writing and even a day-trip to Cobourg!
This morning, only a week away from spring "special weather statement" returns to Toronto. I'm very  grateful to have the option of staying home, not having to fight yet another winter blast! My Adrenal glands are definitely enjoying the break! 

One hundred and eight more days to retirement!
P.S. Did I mention the sinfulicious act of watching a chick flick in the middle of a workday?

Viva Uniforms!

Dear Friends,

After my Great De-cluttering, I’m left with only three black bottoms and a few Gap "Favourite" tops for work. Hopefully, spring will spring soon, and I’ll be able to show the lighter, brighter side of my wardrobe. Meanwhile, my limited selection has cut my fussing time in half.

Lucky are those who have to wear a uniform!

Not having to worry about what to wear to work frees up so much grey matter in the morning, or at night, if you are proactive and like to lay out your clothes before going to bed. Imagine what you could be doing instead; meditating, eating breakfast, putting on makeup, doing crossword puzzles (or the laundry) — possibilities are endless!

Not only uniforms save time, energy and money, but they also equalize.

Luckier than the ones who have uniforms are those whose workplace  has cafeteria. What to take for lunch is as stressful as what to wear to work!