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Is it possible to develop ADD later in life? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening to me.

 

I—Cannot—Focus.

 

Sure, I’ve been a putterer for as long as I can remember, skipping from one task to the next, but at the end of the day, my long list was always complete. I accomplished what I set out to do and went to bed each night, content and satisfied.

 

No longer the case.

 

Just to give you an idea, in the past two days, I have opened up six new Word docs with the intention of courting you with six different subjects and currently, each one displays about three sentences. There are twenty-three tabs open in my web browser. I can’t seem to make it to the laundry room because I have to walk through the family room to get there and well, let’s just say there’s always cause for pause in that area. I head towards the kitchen with the intent of baking cupcakes, but notice the granite counter top feels gritty, so I clean the entire kitchen instead. A vacuum out the cutlery drawer and wipe down all twenty-six cupboard doors kind of cleaning where, eventually, I look down to see the folds in my yellow rubber gloves crested in moonlight and I find myself totally alone, wondering why everyone is in bed already.

 

I don’t know what it is. I’ve started four books and can’t read more than a page in any one of them. I stand in front of my outdated pine bookcases and ponder how much better they will look when I finally paint them, only to get lost in the paperwork they house, which is never, ever finished…and thus, neither are the shelves.

 

Anyway, squirrel.

 

I got together with a friend last night. She helped me not only to hunker down and finish something, but to get a little of that Christmas Spirit I find so hard to muster, flowing. Here is the productive result of our focused girl’s night…

IMG_6601

 

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I’ve developed a zealous addiction to ice cream. I can also be persuaded with Gelato or frozen yogurt—anything cold and creamy really, and most any kind. It doesn’t need to be expensive or of a certain name. It doesn’t have to be healthy or organic and I admit, with a coy smile and fluttering lashes, that it doesn’t even have to be particularly good.

 

There’s just something about it. Tiny spoonfuls. Over-sized globs. I don’t discriminate. Textured with nuts, smattered with chunks, smothered in swirling trails of smooth liqueurs—I’ll try them all.

 

Oh yes, I’ve always liked ice cream. As a kid I’d run after the creepy van or sit cross-legged on the sidewalk, scrawling my name in chalky bubbles, waiting for a poor schmuck to come by, pedaling a freezer full. I’d gleefully shell out way too much of my hard-earned pocket change for a Phantom or a Drumstick, and when I lived in the UK, I’d drool over 99’s and Raspberry Ripple. I savored bright afternoons watching Ernie stack his spherical scoops while I lazily traced designs in our blue, sun-warmed, shag rug.

 

But lately, it’s more than that. It’s like someone’s trying to tell me something. I just don’t know what. Maybe it’s that I’m getting too old for ice cream. That my time to enjoy it is running out. That soon it will make my teeth twinge and my stomach ache—that diabetes and high cholesterol are right around the corner and I should slow down. Or it might just be telling me I should go after more of what I enjoy .

Maybe it’s as simple as that.

Ernie-icecream

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It can be tough to keep going. Everyone has reasons—some physical, some mental, some…imaginary.

 

You’ve given it your all, done all you can and you’re tired.

 

Maybe you’ve been trying to lose weight, but can’t seem to shed more than a pound or two, perhaps you’re training for a new job and things simply aren’t clicking, you might have been blogging for years and a high-profile publicist has somehow failed to swoop in and make you a star, maybe every query you’ve ever sent has ended up in the slush pile or it might just be that the expensive tooth whitening system you succumbed to buying just isn’t delivering those shocking pearly whites.

 

Unfortunately, I get it. I am very familiar with the rigorous tear down of the emotional psyche. No surprise there. Why do you think it occurs to me to write posts like this?

 

So last Sunday, I watched my daughter play yet another soccer game. She’s a good little player. Usually the oldest and almost always the smallest. She’s phenomenal with ball control, but sometimes doesn’t have the physical strength to match the other players. She was on a team at 4 and 5 years old, but quit shortly after for whatever reason of the day she gave back then, probably a blister, but decided to start up again two years ago. She’s almost 14. She’s playing with girls who never quit. Girls who have been playing since they were 3, 4 and 5 years old. Needless to say, it has taken her some time to build enough confidence to do more than run the ball for more than a few feet or make a quick pass to another teammate.

 

But Sunday was a great day. The weather was invigorating—cold and crisp with the odd burst of energizing sun. We played on a beautiful landscape adjacent to the prestigious grounds of UBC. The team played particularly well and incredibly hard. We were treated to all kinds of fancy footwork and the opportunities to cheer were plentiful.

 

And cheer we did.

 

Especially when my determined little girl seized the chance to strategically chip the ball up over the goalie’s head and score for her first time on a Rep level team.

 

Everyone needs a goal. What’s yours?

Not from Sunday, but a good one, nonetheless. (Photo cred goes to Kori Balaberda)

Not from Sunday, but a good one, nonetheless. Ava is the one in all black. (Photo cred goes to Kori Balaberda)

 

 

 

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Grace

“I was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.”

 

That is due to the grace of a perception that, cruelly, only becomes 20/20 in hindsight. It’s easy, when we feel we don’t understand enough, or maybe anything at all, to run with the guidance of people we deem worldlier than us.

 

And for someone like me, that’s a lot of running.

 

But it’s okay because a long day lets us appreciate the silence at its end. Blunders allow us to feel we’re getting somewhere. Change lulls us into the comfort of progress. Learning makes us excited that there always seems to be a way to improve.

 

I’ve taken risks this past little while and in the process, have clearly figured out a few things–one of them being, that I am very at home here, tucked inside my little piece of this World Wide Web and more importantly, so are you. I enjoy the content I produce for this place and can only surmise that you do as well, seeing as you’ve gone to the trouble of following me. You need a sturdy place to hang your hat. And only you get to decide where that will be.

 

I came close to forgetting this.

 

I am so happy to have all of you here that it makes that really hard to comprehend.

 

Thank you for staying around while I find my way. It’s a small world and technology can make it even smaller, but without the human connection we’re all still miles from home.

***

If you wish, please feel free to also follow me on hazyshadesofme.org.

 

 

 

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I know it’s Halloween and everyone’s working for the weekend and all, but I couldn’t resist sending out a post today. I’ve been working hard on my blog(s) and I feel like things are actually starting to look pretty darn spiffy ‘round these here parts.

 

It may not seem like much to you, or maybe you’re like me and easily impressed, who knows, but trust me when I tell you it’s been one painstaking task at a time. I definitely cannot take credit for my graphics. It’s probably pretty clear I left those to a pro, but I have been tweaking lots of little things and it’s such a learning process for me. There is so much I don’t know and so much that I’m impressed I have managed to figure out and pull off. Before WordPress, the extent of my technical knowledge reached about as far as the end of my nose which, thankfully, isn’t really all that long. The most I could do was send an email and refresh a page.

 

It’s been a journey.

 

I even participated in a Skype chat yesterday. The same pro who so ingeniously conjured up my graphics is also trying to help me with SEO, also known as Search Engine Optimization. Now, when I say help me, I mean she’s telling me what I should be doing, not doing it for me, so whether I ever get there or not remains to be seen and if I don’t end up reaching star status it will be no one’s fault but my own.

 

Anyway, I intended to write a super long post explaining many things, but time has escaped me today and I will have to leave it a cliffhanger…to be continued, as they say.

 

Have a SAFE and HAPPY Halloween, everyone and may the force be on your side.

 

Sincerely,

Hazy xOxOx

Yes, this is the extent of my Halloween costume.

Yes, this is the extent of my Halloween costume.

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I should Have Blogged Today

 

 

Feeling like a donkey. Luckily, it's a cute one.

Feeling like a donkey. Luckily, it’s a cute one.

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I was born without fingernails. Eh, not really, but I bet I nabbed your attention and at least a split second of your sympathy. Admit it. You were picturing me thumping away at this keyboard with my nubby little fingers and their fleshy raw tips. Truth be told, I did come with fingernails. They were just nothing to speak of…or to show anyone for that matter. Ridged and wavy, they were thinner than paper and peeled easier than the fine layer of skin that flakes off after a blistery sunburn.

 

I was forever ashamed of them. Always finding reasons to have the tips of my fingers curled into the shelter of my palms or my hands hidden deep inside my pockets. Yes, there are worse things. Much worse things and we all know shoddy fingernails aren’t among them, but hey, they’re good blog material. (We won’t mention that that is probably a matter of opinion)

 

After trying vitamins, supplements and various potions over the years, I’d given up on my nails. They were what they were and when that wasn’t appropriate, at times like holidays or Christmas parties, I learned to cover them with esthetically pleasing plastic.

 

Alas, I’m veering off the path of this posting.

 

As you know, I managed to transfer 798 of you over to my new .org site and I’d really like to know how you feel about that. I need to know because maybe that will help me figure out how I feel. Right now, I’m not too sure. I was really looking forward to seeing you use the new plug-in “Comment Luv” (not allowed on .com) and to just having more freedom for things like that in general, but I’m second-guessing myself. Help me out. Let me know.

 

When I asked my “Wordpress Happy Engineer” Sam (we’ll call him Sam because well, that’s actually his name) if transferring you back is an option, he said that can be confusing for you guys and that multiple transfers lead to unhappy followers. I should mention that he also said that if I came to the conclusion that that’s what’s best for all of us, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

 

As for my nails, I decided that giving up wasn’t an option. That they still mattered. So I chose to try one last thing. And guess what? It worked. My nails became, by some miracle, long and strong. I’ve even had to cut them back or file them down a few times. I seriously can’t believe it.

 

I take it as proof that we need to keep trying new things. There’s something out there that will work for everyone. We just can’t give up.

 

MY nails!

MY nails!

 

 

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