It all started about a week ago…it was early one morning, the curtains were wavering due to a slightly brisk breeze that found its way to the one loose curl on my head taunting it until I woke up.  It annoyed me. Then I was getting dressed and felt the unnatural urge to wear jeans for the first time this summer – which upon trying to pull on didn’t fit.  I had a bit of a meltdown…they fit in May!?!?!?  Then on my way to the bus…the last straw hit me like a barrel of hay when the bus pulled up there was an ad about the CNE… and that’s when I first noticed the twitch.  It progressed throughout the day – the occasional shiver, brain twinge, followed by an overall restless malaise wrought with angst. Someone said it was allergies – oh yea I’m allergic all right.

I don’t want summer to end. I don’t want to go back to school. I don’t want to wake up early, spend my day in a classroom reckoning with algebra. I don’t want to do homework or study for tests. I don’t want to wear pants, let alone socks and shoes. I don’t want it to be dark. I don’t want to rake leaves. And I really don’t want to witness the countdown to Christmas.

I don’t want any of it and frankly I’m experiencing a serious bout of end of summer blues…make that the navy blues. So yea I know I’m not really going back to school (frack…does that mean I don’t get a new pencil case and back to school outfit?)…but it’s still a very visceral time of year that triggers a shifting into a different season or vibe. A heavier, kinda need a sweater vibe.  A saying bye-bye to the sense of freedom, ease, joie de vie and ice-cream vibe.  I can feel my feet already beginning to mourn the loss of bare-footedness. My freckles fading into a fish belly white complexion reminiscent of bleak and baron snow laden fields of winter. The woe of winter overcomes me. I am verklempt.

Please, please just stay a little longer. I’ve become accustomed to your beautiful rays, your warmth and sunny exposure, you light up my days with positivity and cheer.  We’ve become so close over the past few months; I’ve tippy-toed barefoot in your streams, slept with you in your wildflower fields, and explored your deepest woods.  I covet you for your outdoor festivals, patios, cottage time and long weekends. You are beautiful as you rise in the morning and even more magnificent when you lay to rest in the evenings.

So what’s a full on sun worshipping, wear as little as possible, beach babe, forest frolicking summer loving had me a blast girl to do? I’m going to defy FALL. I’m telling it to take a hike and putting the entire season on Strike for two more months. I will protest by wearing my flip flops into October.  I will not switch my seasonal closets – I will layer. I will say NO to sweaters, overcoats, scarves, hats and Gawd forsaken gloves. I will not purchase my fall purse until November. I will not make stew.  I will soak up every last ray of light and catch freckles until the first snowflake falls and I will stock my freezer with Gin popsicles so everyday feels like a sunnier, happier day!  As much as summer is a season – it’s also an attitude and way of living and I for one plan to keep it hot to trot for as long as I can!

Old school is frigging cool.

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I was sitting in the studio at work last week, chatting up my peeps, my daytime partners in crime (and sometimes punishment); my co-conspirators and compatriots and somehow the convo got to the year we were all born.   SOUND THE ALARMS!  SHUT DOWN THE VAULT DOOR!  TOP SECRET UNDISCLOSED DOCUMENTATION IS ABOUT TO BE REVEALED. Gawd I hate this revelation…they all know I’m a bit older and duh a lot wiser but really why or Gawd why do we have to focus on the number?  It’s just a number you know!

So what…@%^#@%@ I could be your mother, or older; older sister maybe.  So what you were born two years after I graduated university.  So what you have no recollection of the Flock of Seagulls, Charlie’s Angels, 45’s, Tang or encyclopedias because you were born in 1992…which makes me ahem…30 years older then you.

Ahhh youth. Always seems so enviable but you know what I wouldn’t go back if you paid me. I ‘m proud of my years; my experiences, mistakes (sun-in hair lightener), lessons and lifelines. I’m also proud that I have stories and know things and done things you young’ ins can’t even imagine and well… will never have to experience…for better or worse.

For instance I did my university thesis without the existence of computers.  It happened in a library, where I spent months researching articles on microfiche (flat sheets of film containing micro photographs of pages of a newspaper or document) only to have to get the original from the librarian to photo copy for a nickel each page, then hand write my 100 page draft to eventually be typed on a typewriter. BTW there’s no spellcheck in typewriters…just saying.

There was no Facebook, no cell phones, no texting or selfies. My phone was plugged into a wall and was a part of a party line (a shared local circuit) where at any given time you could be privy to someone else’s conversation. I was allowed 10 minutes after my homework was done to use the phone to speak to my friends. There was no sharing of photos (not that a teen, let alone a kid had a Polaroid in those days), no watching You Tube videos or trying to find Pokémon – we made plans to meet at the mall and trusted each other that we would show up.  And being a part of a family that moved a lot – the only way to stay in touch with my far away friends was to write letters. I have boxes of them, documenting decades of my life…how many emails have you saved?

There were no iPod or downloading music.  We listened to the radio or our records and then spent weeks saving our allowance to buy the latest 45’s at the record store. I remember waiting for over a month to get Jim Stafford’s “I don’t like Spiders and Snakes”….go on…You Tube it…I dare you.

Yes, there were massive gaps in technology, but this lent itself to amazing personal innovation far beyond the entertainment and production value of a computer.  We were inventive and imaginative!  We made things, from scratch – drew with pencils, wrote stories in scribblers, made paper fortune tellers to find out if Russel Wangurski wanted to “go around” (aka hang out/secretively date) me.  We played out imaginary roles and scenarios, we spent time outside, getting dirty, being curious, and exploring our world – not watching it on a screen.

I’m all for the advances of our modern world, but there was something neato about growing up in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. They were decades of innocence, incredible discoveries and innovation – a time that was constantly evolving, expressing and exploding with new statements in culture, art, music and fashion. It was a time of change, progress, and protest – like every decade I suppose, but I look back and feel like it was kinder, and gentler in some ways; naïve perhaps, perhaps more private than public.  1962 – the year Bob Dylan first performed Blowing in the Wind; Marilyn Monroe died, Nelson Mandela was arrested, the Cuban Missile crisis teetered on the brink of nuclear war, the novel A Clockwork Orange was published, the first Bond film was released and I was born just to name a few.  Well it’s been over 50 years living on this planet and whether you’re a hippie or a hipster – one thing is for sure – Mork & Mindy, The Partridge Family and The Breakfast Club are still cool to the max….just saying.  Peace out.


Going for the gold.


I’ve decided I am going to become an Olympic swimmer.  It all hit me last week when I was watching our Canadian girls splash like lightning through the lanes and win medal after medal after medal.  I’ve got the whole wiggle the arms, clap my thighs, step up to the board, hold onto the edge, get on my mark, touch my toes and then launch into thin air propelling myself like a flying fish flipping in and out of the surf to reach the end with a somersault twist, kicking like an Irish sword dancer on fire then stretching beyond my fingertips to reach the wall first.  I got this.

Now you may think it’s unrealistic of me…I’m a bit older, ok a lot older, and sure I have my share of broken bones and maybe I’m not in perfect shape and so what I can’t touch my toes and at 5’4” don’t have the body for a swimmer and shoulda been training for the last 30 decades …yadda yadda yadda.  Whatevrs.  For the love of dog – don’t rain on my podium.  I want this.

I’m a very good swimmer. Little do you know that my nickname growing up was “the mermaid” and at 5 years of age my Dad took me to the pool, turned his back for a second and I was up the diving board ladder and jumping off at 40 feet without a care in the world…and btw I only had my tadpole swimming badge.  I’ve swam across a lake with leeches sucking on my butt,  saved a man from drowning, taken a dip in the Big East in February and was a mermaid for Halloween twice.  Just saying.

Point is – when you want something, I mean really really want it – NOTHING stands in your way.  And the more you tell me I can’t…I’ll show you I can.

I have destiny…I am on the path to greatest.  It may be on a podium, on a TED Talk stage, or in Africa teaching women to sew.  It may be between pages or painted on a rock. It may be atop a mountain or quietly contemplating bliss while sitting in the woods.  It may be silent or it may be really loud – but one thing for sure – it’s happening. Here and now, moment after moment and I am on my way and nothing is going to stop me.

On my mark…

Take care, self.


Man oh man it’s been hot. Sweltering, sweaty, drippy, moving like a sloth hot.  This past week I’ve really been feeling the heat…it’s been hitting me like a molten lava brick wall.  I’ve tried everything to stay cool, chill out, protect myself from the fever – but today I combusted and had a meltdown.  No; not a 911, fetal position on the kitchen floor, need a straightjacket kind-of-a meltdown – but a definite boo hoo, woe is me, stomp my wee size 5 foot over the injustice of it all meltdown.

Hello my name is Patty and I am human.  Sure I am the proud flag carrier of choose Awesome Sauce for Life – but every once in a while the warrior wobbles, feels the weight of the world and needs a little hissy fit.

It always feels like it comes out of nowhere – but if I take a moment (which I rarely do and is part of my problem) I realize I’ve been burning the candelabra in too many rooms of my life.  Pushing and pretending that I am super human.  Trying so hard to juggle way too long to do lists, swinging my sword against the meanies, fighting for the cause and just not winning, saying yes to things I want to say no to, saying no to things I want to say yes to; managing not loviating the flow of my life…and simply doing the deeds without an ounce of authenticity.   Well whoa nelly…clearly that’s not working so I’m taking a TIME OUT to take care of me and get my moxie back on track.

You see I believe our power or magic comes from within. In our mindset, our heart and being kind to our body – but it has to be real, you have to feel it – not just do it because you should.  When you pretend it’s like lying to yourself and that serves no good purpose.  Take meditating for instance…it use to be something Angus (my cat) and I did together. Since he died, I still do it, but I swear obscenities in my head the entire time – kinda counterproductive I’d say. Same with “watching what I eat”…I’ve been very diligent at watching one chip at a time disappear until the bag is completely empty…and affirmations – well they’ve become clichés that piss me off.  Faking your feelings sets off an insidious cycle that sabotages how we take care of ourselves. Fighting the flow leads to frustration which spurs a sense of hopelessness which triggers fear which can either cause us to freeze or flee – either way it’s exhausting which is the perfect excuse to not exercise, eat well and most importantly fuel our mind with positivity, possibility and joy. Burn out and inauthenticity raises a tall wall to climb when you least feel like climbing.

Luckily I’m a monkey and pretty good at climbing but if I’ve learnt anything it’s about going slowly, with intention, focus and because I want to – not have to.

First things first – Feel.   Let go of being stoic. Open the vault and let it rip. You must feel in order to deal and then heal.

Second – Be nice to myself.  Give up being perfect for authentic.

Third – toss my current Impossible To Do List and replace it with this one:

Play with Faeries

Grow Angel Wings

Braid the Hair of a Mermaid

Fly to the Moon

Ride a Unicorn.

Fourth – Hmmm maybe pick up a super cool, easy-to-read book I heard about called “How to Live Like a Chipmunk and Other Tips on Living an Awesome Sauce Life”… apparently it’s chocked full of simple ways to get your moxie back!



Well… we’re not in Kansas anymore. Welcome to Kitten Ville! Hold on tight…as the last 72 hours have been nothing short of an apocalyptic adventure in adorableness.  Really what could two tiny 3-pound furballs of love do other than eat, sleep and cuddle?

Prepare for Ninja Kittens.

NOTHING IS SAFE – everything is edible. Including buttons, bells, feathers, carpet, cardboard, my crocks, my nose stud, the zip lock bag of lemons (that was sure a surprise) and my Awesome Sauce book cover (but thanks for being curious).

KITTENS MORPH INTO MICROSCOPIC VAPORS that slip into the tiniest of cracks. Like behind the piano, under my dresser, under my stone altar, into Fiend’s closet, inside my pillowcase and through the full proof baby gates to the death basement.

KITTENS FLY. All the way up to the 4th shelf where my unicorn collection was, catapulting across the piano onto the lampshade, grabbing the India wall hanging (aka new kitten swing) and finally levitating from the baby gate to the painting of Wonder Woman and leaping to the top of the refrigerator.

KITTENS LIKE TO TYPE on my keyboard while 278sjl.dm.ssahisdA  I’m typing.  Thanks for helping Charlie.

KITTENS REALLY LIKE TO POO, dig and toss around cat litter EVERYWHERE. They also don’t put their toys away.

KITTENS HAVE NON-STOP ENERGY – a kind of lightning bolt super- sonic, mad dash, gazelle-like, spazztic frantic zolt of zippity-do-da at the speed of light.

KITTENS JUST WANT TO BE YOUR 16 year old cat’s new best friend and will do everything to make sure he knows they are never going to stop trying. (Are they gone yet?)

KITTENS FALL ASLEEP ON HUMANS and make little kitten snore noises and dream little kitten dreams.

KITTENS CUDDLE, with themselves, all pretzeled up as one, and on their new mummy. Charlie is especially fond of sleeping in my hair while licking my forehead (I went to kitty utopia), while Sadie prefers deep cleavage.


I’ve done absolutely nothing for 4 days (which for those who know me is unheard of – I’ve usually built the ark or five by now)…all I have done is lie on the floor and talk in a high pitch voice understandable by kittens. I’ve had my hair, face, nose, lips and eye lashes licked better than any man has ever done. I’ve been pawed and kneaded on, head butted, purred to and trusted. I smell like wet cat food and I don’t care. We’ve entertained each other all day – playing toss the mouse, tickle the feather, climb the cardboard condo, chase the wombat and explored a whole house of super cool new scents, and amazing miracles like tap water and fingers under the sheets and discovered a plethora of knick knacks to knock down, scratch and destroy…and I still don’t care. For the first time in a long time; since Angus died, I actually feel my heart filling up. I feel love and it’s all because of these two perfect little monkey kittens –  Charlie and Sadie who may be super small in size but make up for it in enormous kittenoisty loviation.

And just in case you didn’t realize…..Love at first sight is possible.