Yuck!

If you have twenty minutes, please do watch this amazing documentary by a fourth-grader who attends an elementary school in New York City.  It's all about the nutritional content of his school dinners and how the menu certainly does not match the actual meals served.  So cool to see a young person doing something really insightful.  If for no other reason, watch it because his soliloquies are so well-spoken and well-practiced.  

Happy watching!

Oh!  And have you watched Orange is the New Black?  It's hilarious!  I've watched the whole first season (all that's available on Netflix).  Wicked.

Back to Paper

I've been known to spend hours on the internet (yeah, we all do it) looking at random pictures of beautiful towns (Positano, for instance) and beautiful homes (love me a home tour), but I've been drawn back to paper over the last few weeks.  

Something about writing something down on a concrete (figuratively concrete, of course) item makes it so much more real than adding it as a reminder on my iPhone (though it is a brilliant system).  

Maybe it was seeing this short film about the over-usage of smart phones, or maybe it was a great idea like this one from medium.com (a great read if you've not gone already) to devise a very short, poignant, daily to-do list, but I'm headed to the stationary store now to pick me up some Post-its.  Seriously.

Southbank Wander-Around

Steven and I went to the Southbank with Calum the other day.  We love it there: it's lively and touristy, but still so London-y.  There's something about proximity to water that just calms, isn't there?  

They're happy cleaning windows.

Finally made it to Monmouth Coffee (well worth the wait: it IS that good) in Borough Market

"What's cleaner, the water in your cup or the water in the ocean?"

"Water in my cup" (said with conviction).

"Oh, that's interesting," (ever the teacher).  "Why isn't the ocean cleaner?"

"Because fish poo in it" (said in a deadpan voice).

Lessons learned on a coffee shoppe bench.

It wasn't so much of a height thing.  It was more of a, "Why are you in uniform in August" thing.

Love the London Book Market tucked under Waterloo Bridge.

Oh, a few things...

Moving in?  Nah, we already did that.

Shocked.

Bankside Classical.  Love.

"What is THAT?"

"Uh, a fish.  With tentacles.  An octopus.  Without eight legs.  It's the...the chicken of the sea.  Yeah, that's it."

Yonge Street, Toronto

I watched Yonge Street creep up and away from Lake Ontario just a few weeks ago, from atop the CN Tower.  What a beauty that city is.


Courtesy of Halifornia

Good Enough

Do you ever feel not quite enough?  

I struggle with this feeling on and off at times; more so when stresses at work or home get me down.  I feel not quite good enough, as a general theme, but then it goes on from there.

I feel not quite smart enough in conversations that elude me.  Instead of just accepting that I don't find politics interesting and moving on when others have also moved on, I sit, ruminating about how I could me far more intelligent.  

I don't feel stylish enough.  Even when I relentlessly look at blogs that tell me just how to match my boho jean shorts with my wavy hair, I still feel frumpy, underdressed, like I'm trying too hard.  

I don't feel loveable enough. I'm moody and not entirely dependable...I beat myself up in blog posts, seemingly to illicit comments telling me how entirely loveable I actually am.  That isn't what this is about.  It's about being honest about how, at times, I feel...not enough.

Before I lived abroad, I didn't feel adventurous enough (how had I not seen Europe by my early twenties?!).  Hamilton was the safety zone and it was there I was going to stay.  

Now that I live abroad, I feel I don't go home enough.  I feel I don't spend enough time with those I love.  Feel as though I let them down. All. The. Time.

But recently, I had an eye-opening experience about various things that led to my feeling not quite enough.  Sadly, I found myself blaming other people for my own feelings of insecurity.  Strange that even at 31 years old, I can revert back to little girl mentality and point a finger quite easily. 

I had a very frank conversation about a horrific blog post written about me some years ago (both in 2006 and an update in 2010). 

I reverted back to what I've been taught growing up (because that allows me to blame someone else: my parents): she's an elder; she must have written it with love; she didn't mean anything by it; she has the right to say what she feels.

In the end, my conclusion from all of this was this: she must be right.

Now hold on a second!  Right?!  She's RIGHT?!  She can't be right.  She's spiteful, hateful, judgemental, and petty.  She took facts about me that were private, intertwined them with inferred, implied, and false information, and decorated it with insults.  This isn't what family (oh, I didn't mention she was family?) is supposed to do to one another!
  

And for the first time ever, someone said to me, "And what have you done about it?"  Many of you know about her blog post...many of you share in my disgust, but no one has ever asked me about the action I'll take. 

Well, if you know me well, you'll know I'm awfully passive when it comes to actually taking action.  When confronted, I'm quick to cry, and need a lot of time to process (and sometimes even plan) what I will say to adequately explain my feelings.  "Not quite enough" at work again.  So the action has been small, but final: The Facebook Block.  Hey, you gotta start somewhere, right?

I'm trying my best to feel the way I want to feel: to stand up for myself and to say what's on my mind.  At the same time, I'm very aware that the adjectives I finally used to describe the writer of that infamous blog post (spiteful, hateful, judgemental, and petty) just can't be words that will describe me.  

I just now read an expression that I love love love (from my friend Tommy Westhall, who I knew in Korea):

I will no longer be a slave to my own weaknesses.  

What an empowering sentence!  I think this might serve as my new mantra.

 I'm just back from a fabulous vacation and don't start work for another week and a half, so at present, I feel amazing.  However, I thought I'd share this in the hopes that when these feelings creep back in, I can remind myself that it's a fleeting emotion.

Pictures are mine, taken Friday in Neal's Yard and surrounding.

Summer in Canada: The Last Day

I was feeling very emotional on our last day in Canada, so much so that I cried on the plane ride home (before passing out for most of the seven hours...thank you, Gravol), and sleeping for nearly three days straight since we've been back (save the 11km run Steven coached me through the other day).  

Jet lag?  Homesickness?  I'm not sure...but it feels far more final this time around.  I guess that makes sense, right?  I'm settled here now; going "home" means coming back to England, not going to the Great White North.  This compounded with the fact that I'm on vacation for another two weeks or so means that I can actually enjoy the slow-paced life for a few more days while the world rotates on its axis.  

Summer in Canada: The Family Barbecue

My father was kind enough to host a barbecue on Sunday before we left Canada.  He even came to pick our hung-over selves up from Toronto so Steven could snooze in the backseat (cheeky mention...sorry darling) and he and I could catch up.  We wound up hitting the Beer Store (such a novelty for both Steven and I), Costco, and Fortinos (for some Roma Pizza!), before getting back to Dad's for some rest and relaxation before the party.

Sandra was over nice and early, we went for breakfast (Steven tried French toast for the first time...big hit, Canada...well done), bought some mocassins, and returned to Dad's for party prep.  My mom and Doug came, as well as my Uncle Gary, Marcy, their three kids (Sarah [who came with her fiance, Kiel, who I met for the first time, at long last], Carmen [who is due to have a baby around my birthday...joys abound], and Mia), my grandparents, and my godparents, Ralph and Judy.  It was quite the turnout.  Though I wish I had taken a few more pictures, it felt somehow intrusive in such an intimate environment.  Alas, we'll make due with what I do have...

Ralph and Judy

Mia

Nonna (looking young as ever) and Nonno (not so much so.  Bless him...he really didn't want to come but managed to drag himself there.  What a lovely man.)

My Mother and I

Sarah (wedding planning) and Carmen (baby planning)

The very citrusy Kiel and Sarah

Matching Sarah and Doug

    

Men in deep thought: My Dad and Ralph

Thank you all so much for coming out.  

It was so lovely to see you all again, if only for a short afternoon.  xxx