I love my Babcia more then anyone else in this world. My Babcia is my favorite person, and I think she always has been and always will be!  I had the pleasure of two weeks (on and off) with my Babcia while on vacation this past month, and much like my Mama Plum she’s never at a lack of advise when it comes to life, love, and boys!

9 Words of Wisdom from Grandma ‘Babcia’ Plum.

1:  “Men always know what fun is no matter how old they get. Old men are always bad!”  Guys love to get into your pants, and this fact apparently never changes!

2: “If I said so it means I mean!” Respect your elder, that is all.

3: “You won’t really know till you get married when people become normal…..they aren’t normal till marriage, and if it doesn’t work out, oh well you get to try again.”  Sometimes our love lives don’t turn out how we want or how we expected them too. Things changes and more importantly people changes, but life goes on, and you move on too. So “oh well”.

4: “Don’t give away too much Pączki”  A pączki is a like a polish doughnut or pastry. Mama Plum gave the same advice once. There is nothing wrong with giving away a little ‘desert’, but don’t be over indulgent and fill the plate or the other person just might get sick.

5:  “Everything gets split 11 ways”.  Babcia was saying what would happen if she won the big 80million drawing.  And I looked at her and said I think she was miscounting.  This side of my family is very small.  And she explained everyone would get some. So mamaplum and daddydoo wouldn’t share a piece they each got a piece. Same with my cousin (who is technically a step cousin and her husband and baby on the way) “ahh blood doesn’t equal family. Family is family” She’s right family is family, and family can be whoever you want it to be!

6: “As long as he knows how funny you are. You funny! (laughs) Not sure who you get that from? “  When you find someone who loves and appreciates all of you (best and worst quality’s) they are worth holding onto! And laughter really does make all the difference.

7: “Call your mother.”  When people care about you, you sorta have to show that you care back, even if it gets on your nerves.

8: “You are who you are, never what you could have been.  Life throws you all over the place, you just need to be happy” Anyone who has lived 86 years I would assume would think this is true. Life gets turned upside down and no money, royal blood, trinkets or possessions can save you or change that. But when you have family, love, and happiness nothing else matters: you don’t need anything else!

9: “Lets drink to that!” A term she uses often, and pours whatever happens to be infront of her. Life should be celebrated, and cherished. No matter what happens there is always an upside. As the quote she says all the time to me that I steal on a regular bases states: “ It could always be worse” so let’s drink to that!

My cousin has been visiting and we were talking about how people ask her for directions all over the city (something that happens to me often no matter where I travel) and I was saying it must be because we appear to be nice, sweet, approachable Canadians. But no one really knows we are Canadians. We just seem nice, sweet, approachable, and helpful (like most Canadians)

What makes someone approachable? And what doesn’t? I always share the ridiculous pickup lines that guys have used on me, but do I just seem like an easy approachable target that looks sweet enough to fall for their terrible lines or do they really find me attractive?

Do I really have nice, sweet, and approachable (Canadian) written all over my face, or is it just in my head……

One time I had gotten off the subway on my way to an event. I had about 6 bags in hand and it was a hot September night. I got off on one of those stops that are way under ground. You know the ones that take like three levels of escalators before you see the light of day.

As I could see the first set in my view I noticed it wasn’t running as people were clopped up the ’stairs’. Urg…I struggled with my bags up the long (and first) flight of escalator stairs. I started to sweat in my party dress. I was starting to get angry, but after this flight the escalators will work I thought to myself. But then…those weren’t working either. “F-this” I think, and I made my way to the elevator. Now subway elevators freak me out. If you have ever been in a NYC subway elevator you know what I’m talking about and if you haven’t just think on it for a bit.

I push the button and wait. As I’m waiting (the elevators are really slow, I want to mentioned that) this guy makes his way next to me to wait. He’s attractive at first glance, and on crutches as one leg is in a full-length cast. (I start thinking about a broken femur bone, which must hurt like a firey hell as I wait for the doors to open) He smiles, I smile back.

The elevator doors open and I go to walk in (crutches boy had gestured for me to go first) But I stop just past the door as I notice something. There is the corner of the elevator is a big pile of poo. Yes real human poo! “Hells no!” I think to my self, and probably said it out loud too as I go to leave the elevator. As much as I don’t want to climb two sets of escalator stairs with all these bags sweating up my party dress I sure ain’t getting in that slow ass elevator with someone’s feces!

“Wait!” The guy says.

“Pardon” I turn back.

“If I ride up alone when it opens people will think I did it.”

I stare sorta blindly at him.

“You serious?!” I say

“Please. It’s only one floor.” He gives me this look that only a sweet approachable Canadian girl would fall for.

I step in the elevator as close to that door as I can. The doors shut.

I turn back and look at the guy I followed into an already gross NYC subway elevator that just happens to have a pile of poo in the corner.

“If this elevator stops and doesn’t open I will break your other leg!”

He begins to laugh…and laugh hard.

I begin to laugh.

We get off the elevator at street level laughing like I’ve never laughed with a stranger before.

“Thank you so much! You’re really sweet.”

We parted.

This story always leaves me confused. Does being sweet mean you’ll ride with poo for a complete stranger? It may, but it sure smells wrong to me!

I spent my first week of holiday in my hometown.  Ah, Northern Ontario Canada in the summer, it really is one of the greatest places you can be this time of year.

SIDEBAR: I’ll challenge anyone to a duel that says otherwise, and my sword skills are amazingly good!

Wherever you happen to hail from it always holds a special place in your heart, even if you would cut off an appendage before moving back there. Your hometown can teach you many things. Some good and some ugly, but all in all there is always a lesson to be learned.

8 Things I’ve Learned from growing up in North Western Ontario Canada!

1~ Fish do and will bite you in the open water!! And I can most likely tell you what type of animal that squished up unrecognizable pile of blood and fur on the road used to be

2~ Drinking and operating any type of moving vehicle is not a good idea. If I even tried to count deaths I’ve known of as a result of drinking and driving/seadooing/ boating/snowmachining, and so on it would take years!

3~ I’m a great shot. Don’t mess with me.

4~ I have at least three major outdoor survival skills, and I know all the best ways to keep warm.

5~ Curling is hard. If you want to joke that it’s the easiest Olympic sport, I suggest you take a look at bobsledding, even the Jamaicans can do that! Curling is hard, and I think the only section I always failed in PE.

6~ I always dress appropriately and come prepaid for impending weather. I also know what “looks like” followed by any type of weather description is, and am pretty much always right!

7~ I can walk on ice with little effort, infact I can even run on it.

8 ~ It is possible to be friends with past lovers and old flames. In a small town people jump romantic partners all the time, but your social circles never really change. You learn to get along with the ex that is now dating your best friends little sister who used to date your old brothers best friend who you once dated as well who cheated on you with the girl who is now dating your brother. And all in all you learn to be civil and kind to others, and respect peoples romantic choices (I mean you might judge but still)

Right now, I’m home-home, with my parents for a week or so. Just relaxin’, chilln’, and doing lots of swimming with my puppies!

It’s peaceful here. It’s quiet, well except for those frogs outside my window that actually kind of make me miss honking cars and sirens at night. It’s the Northern woods of Canada, and it’s my home.

There aren’t many luxuries in my hometown. Nowhere really to shop, or go hang out, or anything really fun to do. No real cultural anything.

SIDEBAR: Today is Canada Day so that’s pretty cultural.

I like it here because it’s familiar, nothing changes and I know everything.  It’s special to my heart.

Much like a good relationship, a good home can’t be beat.  As I went to get ready for bed last night after a late night swim I got thinking about all the things I kind of dislike or “live” with when at home.  My own bathroom I’ve always loved. It’s big and has lots of light, and yet the water pressure just doesn’t cut it in the shower.  I have a huge sink area with long big sink top with a makeup area with a chair and everything, it’s almost perfect, but then I forget that the sink is very shallow and if you turn the tap on to far it splashes water all over everything! My bed is big and huge and tall and comfy good, but it’s kind of lonely being in a big nice bed like that all alone, and then they’re those frogs outside my window.

All that is good about home has little faults that we tend to forget or over look till they are right in front of us.  A relationship is like a good home. It’s warm, inviting, it shelters you and can be used for entraining. It holds memories and creates new ones. It’s a rock that we count on….only good thing is that the person you’re in a relationship with can talk to you, and a home doesn’t really do that, unless you count “house sounds”.

And then there are those little extras, or more like the hidden “gems” of a relationship.  Just like my shallow sink that splashes unless you turn it just right, everyone has those little things about them they bring to a relationship.  These added gems get overlooked, pushed to the side and sometimes ignored because the whole package or “the home” is just so wonderful. Maybe it’s the way someone laughs, or chews their food, or holds your hand in a funny way.  Maybe it’s the sounds they make in their sleep, or sounds they don’t make during “sleep”.

Just as we get used to a new house which eventually becomes our home, do the little things start to disappear as the larger picture unfolds in a relationship and if so then why do people always say it’s all about the little things in a relationship?

People always inform me that they too don’t like birthdays and that infact no one likes getting older. In fact everyone always assumes it’s a “getting older” thing I dislike about birthdays. That that’s why I’m not out wanting to party it up with huge big exciting plans, as I guess people expect me to do.

And then when people push as to why I hate birthdays I get flustered and close up. Cause fact of the matter is I don’t dislike getting older. Although being one year closer to 30 (the last year before 30 I might add) is a little nerve racking, and I do feel like I’m getting old. It however, is not the issue.

I just don’t have good luck or good experiences when it comes to my birthday. And I guess I just project that out there, that I assume since I’ve had so many terrible birthdays that this will just continue to happen.

Now I’m talking birthdays in resent (in my 20s) memory.  My birthdays when I was younger were pretty awesome. I had rocking birthday parties as a child that still has people talking.  However as I approached and grew into my 20s the just seemed to go down hill.

I lost my virginity on my birthday and it wasn’t anything exciting.

I was in a bad car accident on my birthday.

I’ve had 3 very important people in my life die on my birthday, and 2 right near my birthday.

A Psychic told me on I wouldn’t live much past 25 the day before I turned 25.

I’ve walked in on my boyfriend at the time with another girl the day of my birthday.

I had everyone and I mean EVERYONE forget my 21^st birthday. (my parents, my boyfriend at the time, and my friends)

and so on….

Last year for the first time in a long time since moving to this city I surface from my room.  In a “hey I’ll be out at this bar if you happen to want to show” fashion I let friends know I’d be out. I ended up getting drunker then I can ever recall and maybe dying my friends sink pick from all the cupcake frosting I puked up in his sink. It was bad news. Cause although I had a nice time with some friends, I spent the entire time alittle uncomfortable. To many people and unknown intensions.  Did people really want to celebrate my birthday or just celebrate?

The thing is I think we all have ideals of perfect outings, gatherings, dates, and or experiences.  We want to feel loved, appreciated, and special on a certain occasion: this being my birthday.   You hear people say all the time that events are better when you’re in a relationship, that unless you have one special person to celebrate with then it’s just not as good.

I think I can admit that yes for once I’d love to have a day, this being my birthday where I am in a relationship with someone who truly cares about me and wants to make me feel special.  Wouldn’t that be nice?

I’ve never really had a boyfriend or guy I was involved with recognize or to be honest remember my birthday (unless you go back to the virginity story). I’ve never had a guy say this day is about you and let’s actually make it about you.

I was thinking about this last night. Thinking about how maybe one day someone will embrace me on the day my parents first embraced me, and maybe I’ll start to like getting older.

Here’s to Friday being just another year like all the rest…..

The subway system being one of the most popular, it’s usually always there for you (usually). It gets you places, it provides entertainment and it opens doors.

You could say it is the most constant relationship I’ve had since moving to NYC.

SIDEBAR: We did have that 3-month break but that’s another story.

Yup, I think the subway is my true NYC boyfriend. He’s usually on time, he smells sometimes, he’s cool, and always has someplace to take me…. oh and he’s a fun big long thing to ride on!

However, if it’s my one true relationship I must project my fears and hang-ups that I usually foresee in men on my beloved subway boyfriend.

And I do. I’m scared of the subway most of the time. I stand back away from the edge (see above sidebar), I get disgusted by others my boyfriend lets ride on him, I make comments about his smell and appearance, I worry when he’s not on time, and I get pissed when he’s not there for me when I need him, yet he seems to be there for others.

But like all relationships I’m prepared for what might go wrong.  See the subway has its emergency plan. It is in ever car, on every line: The, “what to do in case of an emergency” procedure plan.

The emergency brake is usually right above this list of procedures. The list of what to do in case of fire, evacuation, illness, police emergency and so on.  What does one do? Not what you think. In fact you don’t pull the emergency brake.

In all emergency matters you never pull the brake.

The brake is like a false security. Much like the false security you have in a relationship. If something goes wrong you can’t just push a button or pull a cord and all will be ok. You can’t always walk away unscathed.

In case of an emergency you need to turn to the procedures to handle the situation in the right manner. You need to calm down and walk through step by step.

In relationships we aren’t always prepared for the “emergencies” we face but we can’t always fall back on a false security that things will be ok.  Something or in this case someone isn’t always there to catch you, isn’t there to save you, and in most cases just isn’t there fore you.

Although, subway emergencies don’t happen often, relationship emergencies happen all the time. Whether it is a real fire, or just an irate passenger we need to learn to just breath and take the right steps in making things better.

Now if only there was a manual for that…..

It’s been coming up in discussions I’ve been having alot. And I was talking to one of my friends about it the other day and I have a theory.

But I guess we need alittle back-story, alittle “meat” persay.

This really good friend ended a relationship a while ago. Since then my friend has had hardships when it comes to behavior on the other persons end, especially when it comes to third parties. The ex doesn’t tell them about specific things but basically makes it hard for them to be friends with each of them. Ex basically says that “friend” is dead to them, but if you want to be friends with such a person that ok. Yes the picking sides argument. “What are we in High School!?”

Now to be fair I had a situation like this once. An ex and I shared an entire close group of friends and we broke up, and something along the lines of the following took place:

Plum: It’s not about picking sides.

Him: Well they all like me better!

Plum: Whatever, they were my friends first.

(And so on)

Again I say “What are we in High School?” But at that time yeah pretty much so. I technically was only a year or two out of High School. (But that does not make the above conversation expectable…or does it?)

So lets bring it back to today, and my friend, and my theory.

See here is the thing. My friend is older then I am. My friend has past 35 further then I am close to 35. And the thing is most people I meet that I want to shake and scream “what are you in high school!?” Are older then I am. By at least 10 years minimum.

So my theory, ready? These people are living the drama of High School and they love it! They love being apart of the ‘High School’ drama because it is actually for the first time present in their lives. And that excites them!

For the first time they have people to be petty with, have people to talk about behind their backs, get to fight over what to wear, who to date, and who said what about whom. It’s the first time for all these people to in a sense be (dare I say it) COOL!

See the rest of us who look at these 35-40-45+ year olds and want to look them dead in the eye and ask why on earth they want to be in High School should actual just turn around and not judge and let this phase pass.

It’s actually kind of sad. Cause while the rest of us are over those petty stupid drama games we have the right to be. We lived it when we were in High School.

But there were those that didn’t.

So let’s let them have there High School drama temper tantrums and bitch fits, and 16 yearold breakups. Let them get it all out and maybe then they can grow up like the rest of us and realize their behavior is all alittle too “high school”

Because let’s be honest. We all couldn’t have been the Prom Queen who ran student council, did 6 other extra curricular, and dated the hot older Varsity captain, now can we! Some of us were cool in high school and now we’re over it. And then some of us I guess are just getting “cool” now and maybe just maybe they’ll get over it.

It just sucks that we can’t all be grownup in the world of relationships and date like we’re all 16 years old again.

And he ended the chat with a statement, a pleasantry, a signature, a farewell, that for once didn’t bother me but that’s cause it fit the conversation we were having.

I hate, loath, cringe when I see or hear the following:

“Ciao”

Seriously, ciao?!

You are picking that to end this conversation?

Ciao!?

* shakes fist at the screen *

I will refuse to contact/reply to guys who put this in their first contact email on any online dating site, or first email/text/call/ask to ask me out. I may stop talking to friends for a minimum of a week if they use it, and have even flat out called people out on it…./slash/ gone ape shit on them.

I don’t know why. But I do know that I find nothing about this word appealing, romantic or ‘international’.  It’s just stupid!

Do not ever try to date me if you like using this as your signature on an email, a chat session, or even worse you actually say it to people.

Unless you are Italian (like it’s spoken in your home as a 1st language or you are from there) OR we are actually IN Italy, do not I repeat DO NOT end with a  ”ciao” at me!

Ok that is all.

FACT: ‘Steve’ and I were discussing pros and cons of different hotels in Rome for an upcoming trip. Thus it was appropriate.

13 reasons why I’ll make a great next ex-girlfriend.

1. I love to bake. And I need someone to eat my creations. Baking relives stress for me. I think because it’s so methodical and precise, and my life tends not to be that way. So if a boy loves pie and pudding, I’m his girl.

2. I’m a terrible liar. I turn red, I fumble my words, and if asked in a serious tone I’ve been known to tell secrets. I’ve never spilled anything people have told me in confidence, but if it’s about someone I maybe when confronted tell. I’ve been to many a surprise party I didn’t even know where parties because I can’t lie if confronted.

3. I shower daily, if not more, and brush and floss more then I should. How is that not a desirable quality?

4. I’m exotic. And if you don’t think that is true you’ve never experienced a Canadian Shield winter or summer mosquitoes that can suck a baby dry.

5. I am close to my family (ok sometimes alittle too close, but not in a creepy Morgan Freeman way) and they mean the world to me.

6. I’ve had the emotional abusive, verbally abusive, and sometimes physically abusive boyfriends. If you’re nice to me I’m pretty much head over heels already.

7. I love sex. Nough said.

8. I have so many amazing groups of friends. You can’t not love at least 10 of them, and no matter what happens with us, they are all great at being diplomatic and guarantee they’ll still love you after I don’t.

9. I love watching sports, on TV and from the stands. And if throw wings and beer into that mix I’m even more fun.

10. I have a nice rack. There I said it.

11. I believe in equality for all. And if you don’t you can just move on RIGHT now. (me and my blog don’t want you here)

12. I’m always up for an adventure. Name it, I’m probably game!

13. I make lists. They will make your life more productive, and if nothing less interesting and they create things to discuss.

SIDEBAR: I love my stuff, and my junk but it’s just “junk” and it has had a great life with me, and will make someone else very happy, and stylish “to-boot”

As I’ve been in awe of my collection of things I have noticed something very different than in any other move I have ever made.  I don’t have any relationship outcasts. No boy leftovers, no guy junk, or man tokens.

Last time I went “home home” my closet was still filled with boy leftovers: teddybears, pictures, and all sorts of crap. And it seems like every time I have moved I have had lots of guy-junk to purge from my life, and this time: nothing.

Ok, that is a lie. I have three things.

I have a pile of CD’s from “bandboy”s band. Some are even unopened and by some I pretty much mean all of them.  I count this as one thing, although it’s more like 8 things. I don’t know why I have them, why I even keep them, and why on earth I’ve moved them to different apartments (even a different country).  Although, when he mailed me the latest CD I had a nice little pile to add it to.

And I have two shirts.

Now I know what you are thinking, that I must be one of those girls who takes things from guys. You know the ones who take sweatshirts and t-shirts: the girl who collects t-shirts from guys to sleep in.

FACT:  I’d rather not sleep in a t-shirt.

But thing is I don’t really do that. Why would I want someone’s dirty clothes when I have my own perfectly clean (and even dirty) clothes? But I sat the other night staring at two: a hoddie and a sweater.  Such ‘girl’ things to take from guys I know, right.

But the fact is, I didn’t really take them. I kept them.  I didn’t let them go when everything else went.  Last time I really sat down and cleaned out my life’s ‘junk’ I did it for two. It was mine, and it was his, and I cleaned out and flushed so much away.

Just like my giveaway pile now, I got ride of so much that was drenched in memories.

Now it sounds strange but I can recall memories with everything I have, unless I really have no clue where it came from. I know where “we” have been together: my stuff and me.

I remember the time I got my heel stuck in a sidewalk grate and walked almost a block without a shoe(the pretty black with purple top Prada ones). Or the green and pink Jacob solder bag I trekked allover France. Everything has a memory, a place, and a story.

And then I have these two shirts. I have no idea why I kept these shirts. It is a plain grey cotton sweater that even though I have grown in size I still swim in it, and a black (but really looks navy) hoodie with nothing on it, warnout cuffs and missing drawstring.

I have no memories attached to these items. I have no idea where they were purchased, or even when they were worn. Yet, these were the two things I decided would help me remember someone: the person who owned them.

Sometimes it isn’t “things” that we remember.  We remember an experience, a feeling, and even a sensation.

I remember France, and that trip, and the friends I was with, how much I laughed, and all the things we did. The bag didn’t give me that. I remember the great night out I had with an amazing friend when I happen to lose my shoe.

It’s never been about the shoes, the bags, the coats, and even the glasses.

And then…

I remember a boy that I loved, not the clothes that he owned.