Misty Watercolour Memories

You might be surprised how often that Black Eyed Peas song ‘I Gotta Feeling’ is still played. I am. At the Turkey Trot 10k on Monday it was being played as we went through the start line. And they played it at the start line at the 2009 Turkey Trot 10k as well. I’ve got it on a running mix on my iPod and it seems to come up quite regularly. Most people are probably sick of it but I love hearing it. It reminds of running in the 2010 Olympic Torch Relay.

My path to being a torchbearer was via the Coca-Cola website. It was a long process and fairly anti-climactic when they finally emailed me saying I was going to run. The preceding months had been a series of emails about qualifying, writing a story about why I should be chosen, having the website fritz out on me so I had to wait days to actually submit and then not hearing back from them by the deadline they listed. When it was finally confirmed I was stoked but not shouting it from rooftops. I was also six months pregnant and we were selling our condo so I had a lot on my mind.

My run leg was January 27th, 6:25pm in Kamloops a few hours drive from Vancouver. Henry was about three months old at that point and the last few months had dragged/flown by with a few jolts of, hey, I’m running in the torch relay, followed by endless nights and nursing sessions. The day of the run Chris and I packed Henry into my sister Katy’s car and we drove up to Kamloops for the big event.

Yeah, the excitement was building but, honestly, I felt a bit jaded. A bit too in the know. A bit too Olympicized. I had been working in the Olympic world for a sponsor, had seen PowerPoints on the torch relay, the vehicle convoys, how the torchbearer experience would play out.

And if you know me chances are pretty good you were a torchbearer too. I have a lot of Olympian friends and a lot that work in that world. Many of them were allocated spots. Many had already run and I had seen photos on Facebook, read gushing status updates and even watched live via webcam as one of my friends ran in Alberta. It was great and I was very proud and honoured to run but I thought I had missed the boat on the fresh genuine excitement for it.

The meeting spot for me was a stadium complex in Kamloops that, funny enough, I had spoken at about a year before for an event. And, funny enough, when I introduced myself to the man, John, I would be passing the flame too, he remembered me from that event. Small world, right? I asked him how he came to be a torchbearer and it was a really sweet story. His kids had nominated him without him knowing. He was really pumped. So were the other 20 or so torchbearers in the room.

Before heading out on the shuttle to our drop points our chaperones talked to us about the torch relay, its significance, some cool facts and a few cute stories. A lot of it I had heard before but I started to get that pre-race feeling of nerves. A bit jittery. Here it was, I was going to run in the torch relay.

It was dark out and I was running in a residential area that was pretty quiet. On the drive over they played the little torch relay video set to Coldplay’s Lights Will Guide You. I had seen this video a few dozen times from work events. The first few times got me pretty choked up but then I cruised through it. Not this day. I was doing a lot of blinking and touching the corners of my eyes and at some points even looked out the window to avoid getting completely overwhelmed by it.

We had about fifteen minutes to kill waiting in the shuttle bus before we all started getting dropped off. Our chaperone told us a few inspiring stories about others that had run in the relay, why they were nominated, obstacles people had overcome just to get to their run spot. She asked our group if anyone would like to share their story and a few people did. Cancer survivors, volunteers that had been nominated by the people they help. I was feeling very proud to be included in this group of great Canadians.

And then they played Black Eyed Peas ‘I Gotta Feeling’ and everyone in the little bus started cheering and screaming like we were a high school football team. It was spectacular.

They dropped me at my run spot and my family was waiting there for me. My sister-in-law had taken my niece and nephew out of school for the afternoon to drive up. It was all starting to feel pretty real and I was regretting telling my mom not to bother coming up for it. Lots of photos were taken of me with my unlit torch and various family members. Some locals came out of their homes and got in on the picture taking too.

And then I ran with the Olympic flame. And it was magical.

Totally serious on this. I am usually fairly conservative about things. Need at least three glasses of wine to attempt to dance in public. But I quickly lost myself in the moment. I was running down the street with my lit torch, the entourage of police and security around me, and I was screaming, “wahoo!” and kind of jumping/skipping. I heard my name yelled over my shoulder and there was Chris, running in the street taking pictures and my niece was right there with him.

When I came up to John, the next runner, he had a huge group of people there. I slowed down and actually did the arms lift up signal to them all to get louder (I know, who am I?). John and I were kind of yelling and screaming as we passed the flame and then we hugged. He took off to more cheering and I waited for the pick up shuttle.

Running with the Olympic flame was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life.

Torchbearers have the option to buy their torch for $250 and I opted in. In the weeks leading up to the Games and during I brought it out a few times for family and friends to look at. And then I packed it and my running suit away.

Since then I have thought of the experience often and told the story to people. It’s fun to look through the photos and relive it. But I haven’t once taken the torch out to get that magic feeling back. I find hearing that Black Eyed Peas song, or seeing some snippit about the Olympics in the news brings back the memories just fine.

I am thinking about selling my Olympic torch. The uniform too. The memories are the best part and I feel certain that the torch will languish sadly in our storage closet.

What’s holding me back? Mostly what other people will think. Which is a ridiculous reason. I also wonder if it is worth it to hold onto for my son. But what will he do with it? Take it for show and tell in fifth grade and then sell it on eBay when he is in university and needs some extra cash.

I’ve created a poll for you, my fine readers, so you can indicate your preference. It will be up for a week so let me know your thoughts.

[polldaddy poll=3917232]

The Great Declutter: Keeping The Creme Brulee Torch

The other week I was scanning my high school transcripts and wow, I really let things slide once I signed my letter of intent for a rowing scholarship.

Giving myself a C on these cupboards. Yeah, one of them has the looks of being a before photo. But, and not to make excuses, in the bigger picture my kitchen is looking quite tidy. I’ll post some broader pics another time but the clutter on the counters has been reduced and I am donating/giving to friends a box and a half of items. Maybe a video tour is in order.

This takes time. And I see more and more that you have to do it in phases. Get rid of half and then live with it and think about if you really need what’s left.

Throw rocks all you like, I am keeping my creme brulee torch. And committing to making my favorite dessert twice before the end of the year. We have six ramekins for them so let me know if you would like to come over.

Other items I am keeping but only use a few times a year:

  • silicone pastry brush
  • springform cake pan
  • rolling pin
  • canning equipment *haven’t used in two years but I am so psyched for jamming next summer. And if I don’t can next year I promise to pass it all on to someone who will.

One of my hobbies is cooking. I made Beef Wellington for my husband’s birthday this year. Strawberry Shortcake from scratch for dessert. Our wedding favors were little packages of homemade triple chocolate biscotti. A few winters ago I figured out that I could make chocolate molten lava cakes (husband’s favourite dessert) quite easily from ingredients we usually have on hand. It was waistline disaster but I used those six ramekins weekly.

Yes, I am not ready to let go of my Kitchen Aid mixer. Or pizza stone. Or that torch. Totally ready to let go of the Full Tilt Poker bathrobe below if my husband will let me.

I Can’t Be Trusted With My Own Wallet

How many days does it take to create a habit? Because I am certainly not there yet with strategic shopping.

Back story: back when I tossed 75% of my wardrobe I made a spreadsheet. I’m not a number cruncher by nature so there are no cool formulas in it but it gets the job done. I’ve listed sections of my wardrobe on spreadsheets in a workbook – casual wear, office wear, workout wear, shoes, etc – itemized what I have and identified what I think I need. Items that are worn out, like my workhorse six-year-old Lululemon capris that I have already had repaired once, are identified to be replaced.

Both my existing two pairs of jeans (two pairs!! I normally own at least seven) need to be replaced. But I created a priority order for new items and one pair of jeans was first. Then another area of my wardrobe will get some love and attention.

So I went Mavi on Friday (they have long inseams which are much needed by me) and tried on seven different pairs of jeans. Black jeans, skinny jeans and my old standby, the bootcut Molly.

First, why did I try on so many different pairs? I knew that I wanted a pair of bootcut jeans with a decent rise length. I wasn’t shopping for a new experience jean. There is a plan to my shopping. There is a strategy.

Or so I thought.

Skinny jeans. They scare me. But I’m still curious so when I tried a few pairs on and they looked okay I started to think I should buy two pairs of jeans, bootcut and skinny. And then a pair of the skinny jeans were a bit big at the waist so I tried on a smaller size.

And I got really excited by the fact that I was in a smaller size. Who cares that it is a different style of jean, who cares that it is super stretchy. I was in a smaller than usual size. This should be celebrated. These jeans should be purchased just so I can look at the size on that tag.

So I bought two pairs of jeans. And then agonized over the purchase for a day before I returned the skinny jeans. It’s not that they couldn’t work in my wardrobe, it’s not that I didn’t like them, it’s that they were not part of the plan. And I want to put an end to emotionally driven purchases. When I returned them I knew it was the right choice.

I also want to start thinking of purchases in terms of working hours and income. The next few weeks will be my last receiving maternity leave benefits. I receive the maximum, about $800 every two weeks. Are skinny jeans, that I may never have the courage to wear and will sit in my closet a lot, worth 6% of my monthly income? No.

With all of this in mind, I’m leaving my wallet at home more and just bringing enough cash with me for what I intend to buy. There are very few true emergencies where you would need money or credit cards on you. A bonus to living in the city is that even when I am at the park, seawall, YMCA swimming pool or out for coffee with friends, I am never that far from home should I urgently need my wallet.

Should You Sell Your Wedding Dress?

Back in my rowing days I had a coach that was quite quotable. I still quote him often. Sometimes to my husband. I am sure it is annoying.

One time this coach was at a press conference to announce a new sponsor for the team. And when asked how having this new sponsor made him/the team feel he said, warm and fuzzy. He left the press conference and came to practice and told all of us athletes about his blunder. And we were all delighted to see ‘warm and fuzzy’ become the quotable quote from the press conference.

Last night I sold my wedding dress. My brother told me this was a drastic measure, that I should hold off on it. A few friends raised their eyebrows at the concept as well. I guess it seems a bit heartless to cast aside the dress I said my vows in for $150 and some extra closet space.

But what are we supposed to do with this stuff? Wear it once a year on my anniversary? I would need some serious liquid courage to wear it publicly for fun. And otherwise it really is just taking up closet space.

So I sold it.

The bride-to-be looked great in my dress. And she was so excited to find exactly what she was looking for at an amazing price. She had this huge grin when she came out wearing the dress I wore on the big day.

Good feelings are infectious. Sure, I had a bit of nostalgia for my wedding day but it was mostly a second hand high from her dress success. It gave me the warm fuzzies.

As she left I wished her the best and asked her if she thought she would sell it after her big day. And she said, yes, why not pass it on for another use and recoup some dollars. Got the warm fuzzies again thinking about another bride getting a use out of it.

Go get some warm fuzzies. There are great never used items in your closet and home that will put money in your pocket, create space in your life and be much wanted and loved by someone else.

Brushing My Teeth Left Handed

Three years ago I decided I wanted to learn how to play a song on the guitar. And sing the song. And do both simultaneously.

Sarah McLachlan and everyone else at Lilith Fair make it look so easy. It’s not. It’s challenging and takes a whole lot of work. Particularly if you haven’t sung since fourth grade when you were politely told you were singing too low to be in the choir. And if the extent of your training in playing a musical instrument was the recorder lessons in elementary school.

But you know, I was/am in love with a guy. And he’s a musician and a songwriter. And I thought it would be super cool to sing him a song as a wedding gift. In private. I imagined I would just randomly bust into song some evening and shock him. Hopefully delight him too. I hoped he would get the intent of it. The work behind it. Because the final product was sure to be first rate amateur.

So I took lessons. And practiced. And had to listen to my own voice recorded singing – ouch! And I did it all in secret.

And I loved it. That was the surprising thing. Sure, it was really hard and I had no natural talent at any of it. But it was foreign and different and energizing. I was buzzed after every practice. The day I finally got the singing and playing at the same time thing together I could not stop grinning.

As imagined, I did bust out the guitar one night and sing my then fiance a song. And the shock value was priceless. As was the appreciation of my efforts.

That was three years ago and I can count on one hand the new things/skills I have tried since then. Windsurfing a few weeks ago when we were in the Caribbean. Snowshoeing a few winters ago. Does Crossfit count? I decided to switch things up last winter and get a lot of low lights in my hair. Does that count? I busted out the sewing machine for the first time since high school and sewed a cover for my nursing pillow last January (still can’t re-thread the machine on my own – shame on me!). Chris and I tried Segways when we were in Florence in the spring of 2009 (three months pregnant and passed out while we were Segway-ing around the Duomo – no damage done and retrospectively hilarious).

I want to learn to do things. Even if I am bad at them. New skills are a value-add on life. And fun. And good for my aging brain.

A few years ago I read an article on Neurobics or brain exercises. One of them was to brush your teeth with your weak hand. Have you tried it? Give it a whirl in the morning. I find it sets me up for more creative thinking (so does my Nespresso machine but that is for another day).

Not saying I’m going to start a large needle point. This is, after all, a blog about minimalism and I still have to deal with my ignored boxes of craft supplies in my de-cluttering. But I would like to take a class. Maybe a cooking class. Or ballet for adults. Or conversational French (Madame Thacker would be so proud!).

Hoping the emptying of my closets creates a clear space and time in my life to try new things.

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