While I sit in my home office and watch the last of the leaves cling to the bare branches, cold air blowing and not a reprieve in sight of the endless grey clouds, I contemplate the November blah’s. Here is a piece of advice that is surely written more for myself than anyone. GET OUTSIDE!
There I said it. Now, I have to do it. When the weather turns, the first thing I want to do is crank up the heat and stay cuddled in blankets drinking camomile tea. No I’m not sick, just reacting to this grey, cold weather.
Get out and run, my mind says. An avid outdoors-woman, I know the fresh air will cure whatever ails me. It always has, it always will. Why is it that the one thing I should do is also the last thing I want to do? Catch-22 indeed.
Here is a very real picture of the doom that awaits outside my front door. No filters, no PhotoShop people. This is November in all her gloom.
It all started with Nirvana and my love for drummers.
I have always been drawn to drummers. The elusive and crazed member of the band (think Animal from The Muppet Show) and always incredibly hot. The drums are a difficult instrument to master and require coordination and focus. Drummers themselves have a mystical quality about them, always sitting in the back in the shadows of the band.
And then, enter one of the most influential rock bands of the 90’s. Dave Grohl, the longest-running drummer for Nirvana, captured me with his grungy style, and his mind-blowing talent for all things musical. A genius at the drums, Grohl can also shed the guitar and proved his mettle as lead singer (…ahem, Foo Fighters. Everlong, acoustic version, melts my heart).
Every girl needs her rock star hero. I’ll take this skinny, tattooed, greasy, musical prodigy any day!
As a newborn I had a baby blanket. Polka dotted with satin trim.
As a toddler I refused, much to my mother’s dismay, to release the blanket for any amount of time; this included when the blanket needed to be washed. So, much to my mother’s credit, she creatively cut the blanket in two and washed one while I fixated on the other. Not to be outsmarted, one day I found both blankets and proceeded to carry around the two halves. In no time, I lost one half and was left to savour only its twin.
The years past, the dots faded and blankie remained in my life. I remember Show n’ Tell in grade 6 when I proudly displayed a weathered blankie in front of my critical classmates. To me, blankie was every bit as preserved as I ever remembered. Then came the University days, wherein blankie went into hiding. As shamed as I am to say, blankie even travelled Asia with me during my backpacking days.
Now, you may be asking yourself why I am choosing to share this information. It is because there are others out there like me. Lots of them! Once I find out they too have a ________ (insert childhood toy of choice) we are instantly part of an exclusive club. We understand one other and begin to exchange stories that sound all to familiar.
So this is a testament to everyone who still has something that other people say they should have long gotten rid of. I salute you. Hang on to those mementos, the security it brings and the comfort it provides. We are lucky to have them.