Where’s the Peace?

A Fictitious Listicle of Christmas Complaints

The biting cold, the howling wind, the slippery roads, the snow piling up, and the enveloping darkness, make me want to roll up in a blanket with a jumbo bag of Munchie Mix and not poke my head out till spring.

I wiped out in a heap on the driveway yesterday and was pretty sure I looked like a beached whale and, if I didn’t manage to get up promptly enough, that someone was coming to helicopter me out to the Arctic and lob me onto a precariously thin patch of ice and set me adrift still lying there, essentially gift-wrapped walrus bait.

My neighbor’s house looks like a reindeer binged on 10 ugly Christmas sweaters and then proceeded to projectile vomit. You’d think looking at it would banish my Seasonal Affective Disorder forever, but I still feel like I need to go inside, dim the lights, and take an Ativan. I’ve started averting my eyes even in the daytime. 

My 30-year-old, Zellers Christmas special, fake Christmas tree is now starting to look like a 30-year-old, Zellers Christmas special, fake Christmas tree. Even Charlie Brown and the gang couldn’t sing this pathetic, scraggly mess of glue and plastic back to life.

My attempt at making a cheery platter of whimsical holiday treats ended with me crying, dusted with flour and eating cookie batter out of the bowl, while tearfully admitting that I don’t have the dexterity to use a rolling pin, cookie cutter, or piping bag or the stamina to make six dozen cookies in one day.

The lines were so long at the mall and the people so grouchy, I started to blame them for everything that’s wrong with my life.

If I have to listen to Frosty the Snowman one more time, I might have to rent a snow blower and take out all the snowmen in my neighborhood, handknit scarves, carrots, and all.

I couldn’t find the wildly popular, obscenely overpriced, Christmas gifts my loved ones wanted, so there’ll be dampened sadness around the tree this year instead of joy.

I can’t afford this but I’m doing it anyway and I’m not sure why.

I got the ugliest ornament in the gift exchange at work. It’ll make a fine addition to my growing collection of ugly ornaments from Christmases past.

Too much cheese log equals one large cheese plug. 😛

With all these Christmas parties, my bowl-full-of-jelly belly is starting to overflow my pants by a couple of large dollops.

The turkey is dry, the gravy is lumpy, the Jello didn’t set, the guests are arriving, and I feel like a smelly, wrung out dish rag who just had her hand up a big bird’s butt.

Guilty

When falling into sin

It’s never really falling

Thirsty

I placed the little paper cup

Beneath the spout and chunks of frozen water tumbled out

The Snowshoe Fiasco

Note from the Author: All of the pictures in my post today, with the exception of the Pixabay snowshoe picture, are of the hike I was on courtesy of George Mach, an exceptional photographer and friend.

I went hiking in the mountains on Saturday. My friend invited me to hike Spreading Ridge on the Icefields Parkway, the majestic, mountainous road linking Lake Louise and Jasper. There would be seven of us. I was told to bring cleats and snowshoes, as there would still be snow. Temperatures would range from +5 °C at the bottom to -5 °C at the top. It was a two hour drive from Calgary and as we travelled North, the landscape looked gradually more wintery. I’ve never been a huge fan of winter, but in the last number of years, I’ve tried to embrace it more, as it’s an inescapable reality in Canada.

A Prayer for Ukraine

I woke and took up your word

And read about the gift you gave

Whipped Up

I’m not the center

The world doesn’t stop for me

Mountains are for Climbing

Many of you know, if you’ve been reading my blog for awhile, that I struggle with an eating disorder. You can read more about that here. Lately, with the ongoing threat of Covid and the increased patient load at my workplace (you can read about what I do here), I’ve been succumbing to the urge to rapidly consume the contents of my cupboards, healthy or otherwise. I recently took the important step of booking an appointment to see a professional about my problem. I’ve always been a self-helper. Whenever my behaviours resulted in too many unpleasant outcomes, I would read widely on my issues and adopt new coping strategies. Often, this would produce small, lasting changes, but I’m finally ready to admit that I’ve done what I can and I need another’s perspective and guidance.

I Feel Like Eating

When I’m tired, I reach for sugar to supply the zip I need

When I’m bored, a plate of nachos will suffice, a little spice

Will pick me up

When I’m depressed, you might have guessed, chocolate is the thing that frees the happys in my brain

When I’m sick with regret, well, I might as well eat the rest of it, the chocolate cake, I mean

When I’m kickin’ back, a bag or two of chips will do the trick to keep me casual and cool

And when I’m in a party mood, I need a table full of food, other partygoers optional

There’s a food for every feeling, there’s a meaning for every morsel

There’s a taste for every tension and a gulp for every grief

Since I always have my appetite to make everything in my world alright

Who needs a shrink or friends and family?

Just sit me by the fridge and I will eat my way through life

And I’ll be fat

And happy

Maybe…

Posts come out when I feel like it. 😀 Feature double exposure pic by me using images from Pixabay and Pixlr photo editor. Scroll down to the bottom of the page to follow me or sign up to receive my posts via email. Pics are from Pixabay unless otherwise noted. Take a peek at my Redbubble store. Pollyeloquent.redbubble.com. Thank you for giving me some of your precious time!

The Antidote

When words don’t come

When the good ole’ brain is blank

As unsullied as fresh snow

As empty as a new, white sheet of paper

The pen may be poised

The computer up and whirring

The fingers curled o’er the keyboard

But there’s no flow, no ideas forming

No signals sent, no nerves jangling

No digits doing their duty

No thoughts to express

Just staring

And stress

And stillness

And shrugging

Ugh

I got nothin’

I got nothin’

I got nothin’

What do we do

When we want to write

And have nothing to say

We try to fix it

To force it

We prod with word prompts

We summon streams of consciousness

We type gibberish hoping

The clacking of keys will release the Kraken

Burst the dam

And flood the world with our untold genius

We fuss, we fume

We ruminate

Why is this happening to me

We cry

We whine

We binge

We may come unhinged

All because

We do not listen

To what our bodies, minds, and souls

Are trying to say

Stop

Rest

Read a book

Take a walk

Go on an adventure

Have a talk with a friend

Recharge

Live

Then

Come back

And write

Posts come out when I feel like it. 😀 Scroll down to the bottom of the page to receive notifications of my posts via email. Take a peek at my Redbubble store. Pollyeloquent.redbubble.com. Thank you for giving me some of your precious time! Choose joy!

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Impervious: Pondering the Pandemic

Let fear dictate your path and there won’t be a path to dictate.

In 2019, we visited our neighboring province at the end of October. “Why on earth would you do that?” some may ask, as Saskatchewan is not known for being a vacation destination due to its austere scenery. We happened to be on our way back from Manitoba, where we attended a seminar for my husband’s work as a pastor. We decided to take a day and explore Regina. Even though it wasn’t very wintery where I live in Alberta, I decided to throw in my winter wear as a precaution. Canadians know that winter often shows up unannounced, without regard for your preparedness, especially when you’re still sporting shorts and flip flops. On that note, last winter I did something I haven’t done in 20 years. I bought a new winter coat and not just any winter coat, but the mother of all winter coats. It’s a burgundy puffer jacket with a faux-fur trimmed hood that effectively turns me into the lion king. My daughter has informed me that it makes my head look like a shriveled pea, not a very attractive thought, but, let me tell you, I put that baby on and go outside and, despite the cold, I still feel nearly, and delightfully, feverish.