Comforting Quirk

It’s said that nothing great can happen inside of one’s comfort zone. I agree. I can tell you, with absolute certainty, that I grow only when I step into a state of slightly elevated anxiety.  But, there’s a problem with that. Who the hell wants to live in a state of slightly elevated anxiety all the time? Not me! Which is why, when I’m not paying close attention, I tend to allow silly soothing rituals and routines to completely to take over my life. Then, soon after, I end up feeling as if I’m stuck in a rut. That’s exactly where I am now—stuck in a rut. I want out!

One of the most common pieces of advice for getting out of one’s comfort zone is to do everyday things differently. For example… try new things, do the things you already do at different times of the day,  take different routes, talk to new people… You get the idea.

In the process of examining my habits, (so that I can decide what I’m going to shake up) it suddenly struck me how ridiculous one particular quirk of mine is. It’s not something I intend to change, but I feel as if I must tell you about it, because, holy crap, it’s bizarre!

For years now, I’ve been listening to the same song, Bryan Adams—One Night Love Affair at the beginning of every running session. It was only last night that I decided to question myself as to why. The best answer I could come up with was that the song has become a friend I depend for moral support. For me, the first 3-4 minutes of cardio is always the most challenging. I play One Night Love Affair at the start of each run, and I typically fall into my groove right before it ends. How and why I chose that song, I have absolutely no clue, but it really has become a crutch I depend on. The rest of the music on my running playlist is an ever changing assortment of new and old hits. One Night Love Affair is the only running song I’ve ever been faithful to.



As someone who works from home, I rarely take a snow day. Well folks… I just took two—as did (nearly) everybody in the province of Nova Scotia! Holy hell, we had a doozie of a blizzard! It began here on Cape Breton Island just before noon yesterday, and it stuck around until nearly noon today.

I’m not sure why, but during the storm I was uncharacteristically restless—giddy, almost. Case in point, I’m a girl who values her sleep, but I had no interest whatsoever in going to bed last night. To occupy myself, I did something I almost never do—I spent time on Twitter. I wanted to see people’s storm tweets.  Much of what I viewed sent me into fits of laughter (making it even more difficult to convince myself that I should get some sleep).

I went back to Twitter this afternoon to select some of the best #NSStorm tweets to share with you.

There’s nothing more Canadian than a Tim Hortons coffee run. 



At least the snowblower is right there!


I recommend climbing up and rolling out.



I guess there can be too much snow at a ski hill. 



No freaking wonder all the flights were cancelled had Halifax Stanfield International Airport! 



Finally, a helpful squirrel! 



Great advice!


I took some photos of my own, of course. Early this morning, I posted some quickie iPad snaps to my Instagram account. After eating and showering, I got out my “real camera” and took a few more shots (from indoors). Here are the images from my second photo session.


Mr. Moe trying to see over the snow drift in front of my office window.



The view out of the other window in my office.



Looking out my front door.



The view from a second story window at the back of the house.


Ugh! I should be out there with a shovel, but I just can’t face it yet. I’m going to curl up in a blanket and read a book.

Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you’re somewhere safe and warm!

Curveball In My Morning Routine

blow-dryWhat image comes to mind when you hear the phrase curvy girl? I’m going to take a guess and say that you’re probably picturing a full-figured woman, or maybe a plus size model? At least in this part of the world, that’s what curvy usually means.

When (and why) has the term curvy become synonymous with overweight? When I gain weight, I lose my curves. When shed excess weight, my curves return.

If you’ve been reading this blog lately, you’d know that I’ve reclaimed my status as a gym rat. What I didn’t mention (at least I don’t remember mentioning) is that my excess pounds are melting away. I’ve been watching the numbers on the scale steadily dip since my return to the gym, but I didn’t notice any other changes until last weekend, when (what had been) my most comfy clothes, were all of a sudden swimming on me.

Now, finally, I’m seeing a change in my body. I’m a creature of habit. My morning rituals are no exception. Every workday morning, I get out of bed, eat, shower, moisturize and hurry to get dressed before blow-drying my hair. Yesterday, I strayed from that routine. After I got into my bra and panties, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—what I saw stopped me dead in my tracks. Curves! My curves are coming back! I didn’t want to finish getting dressed. All I wanted to do was stand in front of that mirror admiring myself. So, I did just that. I stood in front of the mirror in nothing but my skivvies while I blow-dried my hair and did all the other things I needed to do before I absolutely had to put the rest of my clothes on. And guess what? I did exactly the same thing again today! I believe I’ve fallen into a new morning ritual.