Small Town Sunday

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Heading back to work after the long, lazy summer has been…challenging.

I miss blogging, but haven’t had the energy (or any interesting experiences) to share.  I went to yoga on Sunday to combat my malaise.

Yoga has magic properties that make me feel relaxed and healthy.  I always leave the class feeling better than I did when I went in.

It was perfect until the woman next to me started grunting and cursing every time she found a pose challenging.  Judging by her colourful language, she really struggled with the class.

Let’s just say, I didn’t get the calm, peaceful experience  I craved.

Afterward, I went to Starbucks.  It was a crisp sunny afternoon, so I sat outside to enjoy my coffee and unwind from the stressful yoga experience.  I wanted quiet to regroup.

I hadn’t even started my muffin when an adolescent turned up.

“I remember you from elementary school,” he announced sitting down.  “When I saw you, I had to come and say hi.”

I didn’t let on that I couldn’t recall him.  (Although I worked at his school, I don’t think I taught him.)  We chatted about his bike (he prefers riding it to video games!) and his recent transition to high school.

I didn’t get my solitary latte interlude, but I did get a sweet small town teacher moment.  It felt good that a former student felt comfortable enough to stop and talk to me.

Work has been crazy busy this year, but maybe it’s worth it if I’m making positive connections with kids.

 

 

The Name’s Bethany

006I can’t be the only one who hates giving my name when I order coffee.

They never get it right.  I get Annette, Lynnette, Natalie and even, once, Nanook.  (What am I–a sled dog???)

To simplify things, I started saying I’m Bethany.  Everyone can spell it.

It’s no big deal…until one morning a barista with a good memory greets me:  “Hey, Bethany!  How’s it going?”

“Good,” I say, feeling awkward.  “Can I get a–”

“Grande nonfat latte,” she finishes with a smile.  “Anything else, Bethany?”

Clearly I’m committed to being Bethany at the local Starbucks.

Surely it’s not TOO weird to have a coffee alias.  I mean, other than criminals on the lam, I can’t be the first person to give the barista a fake name.

It’s all good…

…until I get my latte and see they’ve taken it upon themselves to shorten my name to Beth!

I don’t go by Beth.  How dare some barista change my name like that!

I’m about to set her straight about using my “real” made up name when I realize how odd this situation is becoming.

Sigh–just call me Beth.

Addicted to the Nette

Friday evenings are low key in my little world.

First stop after the hustle and bustle of the work week–the grocery store!  I love food and I adore shopping, so grocery shopping isn’t a chore for me.

Next:  get up close and personal with some inexpensive Chardonnay and my trusty old laptop until bedtime.

I’d like to say I’m working on the next great Canadian novel, but in reality, I’m blogging or surfing aimlessly until I feel like it’s not too early to fire up the Netflix.  (I did say my Fridays were low key!)  Right now, I’m into reality shows.  (Bondi Ink has me seriously rethinking my decision to stop at just one tattoo.)

I realize it’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got at this point as I adjust to the catastrophic changes in my life.

Imagine my distress when I discovered the Wifi in the cottage had mysteriously disappeared!  I can’t even say it’s Missing in Action, which sounds deliciously dramatic, as there is zero action happening.

Management says the problem will be sorted soon, but as of this morning I’m heading into 24 hours off line–ugh!!!

Things you can’t do without the nette:

Get a hair cut because you can’t google salons in the area or check out reviews.

Order pizza (gooey melted cheese makes everything better!) because you don’t know the number of the local pizza place and you can’t google pizza restaurants.

Schedule that over due oil change for the car because…well you get the idea.

Things you can do sans the nette:

Read, knit, cuddle your aging Chihuahua and handwrite the introduction to that anti-Sailor rant (AKA memoir) you’re thinking of writing.

And the number one thing you can do when you’re offline–hang out at Starbucks with the other folks who take advantage of the expensive coffee and free Wifi.

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A Marsh March

Walking relaxes me and clears my head.  It’s healthier and more socially acceptable than my other coping technique–wine.

Thankfully, my new town on the Sunshine Coast (how can you not smile when you hear that name?) is filled with gorgeous spots to wander.

The dog and I discovered a peaceful duck-filled marsh practically on our doorstep.

Normally I like my walks to end at Starbucks, but I’m feeling a marsh-ian vibe these days.  Watching those gangly frizzy-feathered ducklings trooping past almost makes me forget the first sip of a piping hot nonfat latte.

What do you do when it all gets to be too much?