The BIG 30 Project #18: Swim with Sting Rays

Maybe it’s because my Mum took me into a lake for the first time at roughly 9 months old, maybe it’s because I’m a Pisces, maybe it’s because the movie of my birth year was The Little Mermaid, but I have always been a big fan of water.

More than that, I’ve always been curious about what’s underneath the water.

My childhood is full of memories of swimming, pretending to be mermaids with my cousin, and gleefully using goggles to look at the bottom of the lake. As a kid, I was fascinated by the Titanic and shipwrecks in general. For a while when I was a kid, ALL I wanted was to go to Marineland (note that I no longer want that now that I understand the needs and conditions the animals live in).

Given my propensity for all things underwater, you would THINK that I would have been to an aquarium before the age of 28.

You would be wrong.

Growing up inland with no aquarium closer than 3 hours away, I didn’t really have the opportunity to go to one and as I got older, I kind of forgot my childhood passion about seeing one.

When I started to put together ideas for what I wanted to do on the The BIG 20 Project, I immediately knew I would like to swim with sharks.

Of course, I also immediately knew that I don’t have a scuba licence or equipment and that those things were kind of necessary. When it was announced that Ripley’s Aquarium was going to start letting people swim with sharks, I was very excited and immediately added it to the list.

After looking into it, I realized that I would still need a scuba certification first and while that is on my overall bucket list of things I would like to do in this lifetime, I don’t really have the time or money to dedicate to it right this second.

However, it was while looking into swimming with the sharks that I found out you could also swim with sting rays- no scuba certification required.


I looked forward to the experience from the moment it was booked, but I was pretty sure we probably wouldn’t get that much time in the water or that much time at all given the reasonably low price the entire experience cost.


Not only was our admission to the aquarium covered, we got a behind the scenes tour, a free towel and totebagggy backpack thing (that I literally use every day to bring my lunch to work), a really decent amount of time petting the sting rays and snorkelling with them, and a USB with photos and video of the day.

All of that was less than $150 per person, by the way. I know I sound like a freaking infomercial, but it was an amazing experience, the staff are all majestic and magical wizards, and I would HIGHLY recommend anyone do this.

We arrived at the aquarium in time to go through the displays with friends of ours before our swim time with the rays and in retrospect, this was a genius idea because it meant that when we then did our behind the scenes tour, we would have some context to put the new side of the aquarium into.

There were a lot of things about the tour I really liked but my favourite fact was that the aquarium has a kitchen were restaurant grade produce is prepared for some of the fish (all of whom have food diaries and their own distinct menus).

I just like the idea that the fish have their own personal chefs.

After our tour, it was time to suit up.

With our names written on a dry erase board on the door to a whimsically nautical dressing room where lockers had our names on them with wetsuits waiting, we felt like VIPs.

This was a feeling didn’t diminish when we walked out into the ray bay area in front of a hundred or so curious tourists but the feeling did vanish the second we got to meet the rays because how can you feel like a VIP when you’re too busy being lovingly swarmed and butt patted by a whole bunch of flappy water babies?

Now, obviously, I’m not saying you should hang out with wild rays and expect them to be this sweet, but these sting rays were the sweetest little derp pancakes I have ever met in my life.

As our guide (and let’s be honest, supervisor) told us some ray facts and fed bits of squid to the enthusiastic flappy-flappers, I found myself overwhelmed in the best possible way.

The most prevalent species of ray in the bay were cownose rays, roughly the size of a car tire, and expecting delicious treats, they swarmed around us and up into our laps as we knelt in the sand. This in itself was overwhelming, but I was also amused as hell that an eagle ray (think the teaching ray in Finding Nemo) kept swatting my butt as it floated past hoping for a morsel of what the cownose rays were getting.

We were allowed to pet the rays and I found myself talking to them the same way I talk to my dog. They were so silky smooth and soft but acted like such derpy pancakes that it just reminded you of puppies before they know how to dog.

When it came time to snorkel with them, we moved to the edge of the bay where a deep glass grotto allows the rays access to larger areas of the tanks. Below were more than just rays, there were all kinds of different fish and though I know at least one was a kind of shark it was not the kind of shark I’m sure you’re thinking of.

Hanging on to the edge of the bay, looking down at the 20 or 30 feet below, I felt like I was on top of the building I had rappelled down all over again and when I first put my face in the water and swam out over the depths, my brain had a brief moment of vertigo where it went “WE ARE GONNA FALL, DUMMY” before I remembered that I was in water and thus obviously wasn’t going to plummet to the depths.

I can’t honestly tell you how long I swam there, leisurely making circles around the surface and watching the marine life underneath. It felt like ages and it was so completely and utterly relaxing that I would have happily stayed there the rest of the day.

It made me feel at peace and connected in a way that I can’t really put into words and there was something about swimming with these amazing creatures in a shared environment that felt, for lack of a better word and at the risk of sounding really corny, right.

I am not a person who is particularly good at letting themselves feel things. I’m working on it, but most especially I am not good at admitting my feelings or showing them accurately. It is tough for me to put my guard down enough that you can really see me be purely whatever it is I am feeling.

The pictures and the video from this day are especially precious to me not just because of the experience that day but because you can actually see the pure childlike joy on my face.

I don’t often look at my own face and recognize the insanely happy toddler I was somewhere in there. I look at this photo below and that is ALL I see.


May you all find something that makes you toddler-level happy.


The BIG 30 Project #17: Rappel Down a 20 Storey Building

“I changed my mind, I don’t wanna do this anymore, and I want my Mum.”

Those are the immediate thoughts I had as my body harness was being attached to the rope I would use to rappel down a 20 storey building.

Let me back up a bit.

Easter Seals holds an annual fundraiser, called Drop Zone, which asks folks to raise money for the charity in exchange for the opportunity to rappel down a building. Superhero costumes, while not mandatory, are highly encouraged.

I’ve always been tempted to sign up for the event but every year I found a reason not to. These reasons were generally bullshit about me being uncomfortable either with asking folks to donate to the charity in the first place or some version of me being afraid that once I got up to the top of the building, I would panic and bail.

These reasons, I had come to realize, were nonsense. Worst case scenario, I raised money for charity but just not enough to do the thing (to participate you must raise a minimum of $1,500) and really that wasn’t such a bad outcome- money for charity is good even if it isn’t as much as you’d like, right?

So, I registered and asked for support from all of my friends, family, coworkers, and anyone else I happened to be speaking to.

If I’m honest, I really didn’t know if I would raise enough. I had my doubts but was surprised by the support and generosity of those in my life.

Donations came in from folks I didn’t even expect to donate when I was talking to them (my amazing massage therapist for one; Hi Jennifer!) and I ended up meeting my goal.

The period between meeting my goal and the practice run was a time of pure excitement, it wasn’t until I did the practice run that I started to worry.

The Sunday before I was slotted to rappel, I went to the location to have my brief moment of rappel training and to go down the side of a small truck to show that I could do it. My folks happened to be in town and since they couldn’t come to watch me do the real deal, they stayed to watch me do my test run and take a look at the building I would be coming down.

Now, I don’t know if they could sense the pure panic I felt leaning off the truck to start my mini rappel, but I was so freaked I could TASTE it.

I think it was part excitement and part shock that this was really going to happen. As I listened to the trainer and started putting on the equipment, I could feel my heart racing.

In an effort to fake it until I made it, I was all excitement on the outside but internally I was starting to worry. Walking away from the site with my folks, I had the very real concern that maybe I couldn’t do this.

That being said, if there is one thing that doing all of these random things for my 30 list has taught me, it’s that I underestimate myself a lot. I reminded myself of all the other things I had done and that all I could do was try and if I freaked, it was fine.

The day of the rappel, I was a bundle of excited nerves. Walking to the site, I listened to the most empowering Florence + The Machine playlist I had and told myself I was living in the Marvel universe…which is slightly ironic given I was dressed as a DC character but let’s not even get into how hard it was for me to get a costume together at all.

I arrived on site with friends and gave them my phone to take documentation, checked myself in, and then headed up to the roof.

20 storeys is higher up than I had really thought it would be.

From the roof, I could see my city in a way I’ve never seen the downtown core before. It was truly beautiful and yet seeing how far up above the downtown Ottawa core I was, I started to worry.

I could see over and above Parliament, the river between Gatineau shone in the early morning light until fog from the Quebec side slowly enveloped the majority of the downtown core. Watching the fog roll in was beautiful but also more than a little intimidating, especially as in the 40 or so minutes I stood on the rooftop waiting for my turn, I heard the city slowly start to make some noise.

When it was my turn, I put down my mask, joked with the staff, and took a brief moment as I stood on the edge of the building with my back facing the open air and the 20 storey drop, to just go ahead and feel the panic in the split second before I took a deep breath and leaned back.


I’m the one on the right. 

At first, I had a hard time moving. My movements were a bit too impatient for the safety gear to allow me to move and it took several tries before I figured out I needed to move more slowly to get the rope to start uncoiling.

The first little drop made my heart leap and my mouth taste like metal. I took a couple deep breaths, wondering why everything was so quiet for a moment before I let myself go down again.

By the third time I loosened my rope, I was wondering how fast I could go.

I could have, and suppose maybe should have, taken my time but there was such a thrill in sliding down the side of a building that I couldn’t bring myself to slow down. Each time I stopped (because the rope was hot in my hand) I found myself giggling like a kid.

The sounds of the busses, cars, music, and people below increased with every storey I descended and I got so lost in all the sensations that when I did come down to the ground, I let myself down too quickly and ended up sitting on the ground having neglected to remember to use my legs.

The entire experience left me buzzing with adrenaline and I can honestly say it was as satisfying and more terrifying than sky diving.

Not only did I get to raise money for a cause near and dear to my heart (how can kids be anything but?) I got to really push myself and I totally succeeded.

If you ever find yourself with an opportunity to do something like this, I highly encourage you to do it. It is SO very worth it.

A BIG shout out and thank you to everyone involved with Drop Zone 2017. To learn more about Drop Zone, Easter Seals, or to register for this event yourself click here.

The BIG 30 Project #16: Go Backwoods Camping

I grew up as a fat kid and worse, as far as society was concerned, a fat girl.

Knowing this is important because I feel it adds significance to what I’m about to say: I’ve always wanted to go proper camping with friends but been terrified to do so.

I love nature. I find it grounding and relaxing. So you’d think that camping would be right up my ally. Weeeeeeeell, yes and no. Camping always seemed like a thing for people in better shape.

Camping seemed the realm of fit people. Not meant for me. There were too many opportunities for a kid, constantly concerned that everyone was thinking about how fat she was, to embarrass herself.

It’s a defeatist frame of mind I’ve been battling for a long time and honestly, doing things on this Big 30 project has really helped.

I know it’s helped because when friends offered to let me join them on a backwoods camping trip that I was totally terrified I would be a drag on, I said yes.

Not only did I say yes, I fucking WENT.


I know I don’t look thrilled there, but that’s mostly because the first night was freezing and I was nervous about our first day of proper hiking.

Not only were we hiking, we were hiking with heavy packs on our backs that included our tents, food, and evvvvvvvvvvvverything.

It wasn’t exactly easy hiking either, but damn was it beautiful.



It was honestly a super challenging but super fun weekend.

We cooked meals by campfire, we swam in frigid lake, we hiked across a beaver dam, I used one of those plastic thingys so that I could pee standing up like a man…it was great.

Hiking with a heavy pack was something I was really nervous about and although I was slow, I was mostly able to keep a fairly good pace. One of my friends who was with us had a concussion and while I wouldn’t wish that on her, I appreciated having someone else who went the same pace as I did.

Going on this trip really pushed my boundaries and it made me realize that sometimes I say no because I’m afraid I can’t do the thing I want to do and saying no is easier than trying and failing. It also made me realize that I resent the hell out of myself when I do that.

When we set up camp day 2, the other two ladies in the group and myself decided to go jump in the lake.

I’ve swam in lakes before, so you wouldn’t THINK that’s a big deal for me, but I’ve almost always swam in familiar waters or at least in places where I can wade in and sort of see what I’m going into.

Here’s a recreation of what I was thinking before I jumped in the water:

“I saw a snake in the water not far from here earlier, what if there are more snakes in the water? What if a snake is in the rocks and I freak it out when I jump in the water and it bites me? Are there poisonous water snakes in Ontario, I thought we only had Rattlesnakes that are poisonous, I should learn more about snakes and indigenous species in general.

These rocks are slippy, if I jump in the water I might not be very able to get out again and then it’s this big thing and I’ll look like and idiot and I’ll feel like and idiot and can I even get into the water in the first place? What if I slip on the rock on my way into the water and crack my head open? What if I jump in the water and there’s a rock I can’t see and I cut myself?

I don’t like not being able to see the bottom of the lake, it’s cool if I can’t touch the bottom but what if there’s something in there that bites me or touches my feet?!”

As much worrying as there is above, I didn’t dither too long before I jumped in and once I was in, I was really happy. Not just happy because I did the thing, but happy because I felt all gross and sticky and no longer did. That and I just genuinely love swimming.

Not that long ago, I would have begged out of the swimming and either sat on the side feeling like a loser or gone back to my tent feeling left out. I didn’t do any of that, though. Instead, I just did the thing I wanted to do and felt amazing for having done it. That’s pretty much how I felt about the entire weekend, really.

It was stuff I wanted to do but wasn’t sure if I could and I didn’t want to be a drag on anyone if I couldn’t, but I did it anyway. Not only did I try, I succeeded!

I learned a lot that weekend and I can’t thank my friends and their friends enough for letting me tag along and for being so freaking supportive.

I’d backwoods camp with you kids any day…although not right now because it’s winter.

Freezing my ass off is not on my bucket list.

The BIG 30 Project #15: Try Falconry

My deep and abiding love of owls, like so many other things in my life, was inspired by David Bowie.

Labyrinth was the movie that initially got me interested in owls, but the more I learned about them, the more interested I was. Owls are beautiful, perfectly designed, predators and there’s just some ineffable quality about them that makes people gravitate to their imagery.

I really love birds of prey. I think there’s something majestic and perhaps a bit metaphoric about how beautiful but dangerous they are.

This past March, I treated myself to a birthday trip to England to visit friends and to see the Hogsmeadianesque city of Cambridge. Before visiting, I, along with my friend (who I am calling J because I refuse to tell the internet where she lives without her permission)specifically looked for places to try falconry and not only did we find one, we found one that does a lot of good!

The Raptor Foundation is a team who provide rescue service, 24 hour care, and rehabilitation facilities for injured raptors.


Not the “Clever girl…” type of raptors. The fly in the sky, hunt rodents, kind of raptors.

The foundation provides a permanent and caring environment for those raptors unable to return to the wild, but they also focus on increasing the number of rare species and sharing information on the medical treatment and rehabilitation of raptors.

All the above is great and all, but potentially the most important thing they’ve done is that THEY LET ME HOLD THE BIRDS!



Her name is Clunk and she’s old and more than a little bit grumpy, but I feel like we clicked.

They let me hold so many birds.


It was honestly a highlight of my life thus far.



Now, the most exciting part of the day is the one part I don’t have pictures of: getting to fly the birds.

Holding a bird of prey, be it an owl, hawk, or eagle, is one thing but to see one flying directly at you is entirely another.

There’s something in your mind that starts to panic, something that says “DANGER, DANGER” until the bird in question grabs hold of your leather armored arm and digs into the treat you had been holding for it.

It felt a bit like sky-diving all over again- a surreal feeling that you are both in and completely out of control. I can see why the upper classes have favoured falconry for so long. There is very little in this world that can make you feel as powerful as having what is basically a dinosaur choose to perch on your arm rather than rip your face off.

I wish I had more words to better explain how much this experience, and sharing it with my friend J, meant to me but it’s difficult to describe. It was like when you’re a kid and a birthday cake lit with candles is in front of you. That feeling of all consuming, childlike, excitement because you KNOW you’re going to get to make a wish and eat that cake.

That’s kind of what it felt like. It was actually living out a life dream and for a few hours I felt like kid, too filled up with excitement to feel anything else.

This is only item #15 on the list and there is so much more that I want to do, but I am definitely going to do this again some day.

TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, I might be slightly freaking out about my attempts to do 30 things before I hit 30. 

I will be 28 in exactly 1 month from today and I HAVE ONLY COMPLETED 14 THINGS!

I mean, I have one more thing done that I haven’t written about yet, but STILL!

That’s 15 more things to get done between now and March 2 2019.

Now, I do have three things planned for this year so far, but that still leaves me 12 things.

Dear God, there’s a lot of math in the blog today.

F*^king math, following me throughout my life.

In addition….heh. Get it? Because I was bitching about math and addition is a mathematical term? Some of you get it. Some of you maybe didn’t. Sorry, didn’t mean to DIVIDE my audience. Hopefully all these puns that keep MULTIPLYING don’t SUBTRACT from your enjoyment of my nonsense. Ok. I’m done.

Ok, sorry for the TANGENT.


I’m done now. I mean, PARABOLY.You know? Like parabola?

Ok, I’m actually done now.

Anyway, in addition to the limited time I have to complete these 12 or so things I also have a problem in that I DO NOT KNOW OF 12 MORE THINGS I WANT TO/AM ABLE TO DO.

There’s a reason that movie montages always feature the same few activities when they’re trying to ‘live life to the fullest’, it’s because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO DO THAT UNLESS THEY’RE STUPID RICH (writers generally are not rich).

I mean, everyone goes horseback riding or skydiving or goes off in a hot air balloon ALL OF WHICH I ALREADY DONE DID!

I even met one of my favourite musicians!

I HUGGED her. I PLAYED and SANG in front of people, her included.

So…NOW what?

I’m going to try to go dog sledding, try falconry, and go on a vintage plane ride with my Dad this year, but that still leaves quite a few things to do…

I could try to face some of my fears, but I only have like two fears if you don’t count love and electricity.

Sidenote: Love and Electricity would make a really hipster band name.

I’m going to the UK in March, so I can look into things to try while I’m there…but it’s hard to look for things when you’re not sure what you’re looking for.

I kind of wish I could browse around a shop of unique and different things to try in your life. Although, admittedly, that would suck some of the fun out of hunting them down in the first place-and by fun I mean, the bragging rights that automatically come from having done something cool someone else hadn’t thought of before you told them you did it.

So, here’s what I’m asking, handful of readers: HALP ME!

Please leave me a suggestion for the next neat thing I could try because I AM RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS AGAIN.

Dating Advice For Ladies


I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if we combined some of our old fashioned romantic sensibilities with our new understandings of sexuality, the importance of consent, and a more evolved understanding of the female as a human rather than as a plastic dress-up doll, we could end up with something actually useful.

What you’re about to read below is not that.

It is some old fashioned romantic advice, but it’s not useful. Rather than being combined with our modern sensibilities, the below has been combined with my ill advised advice and sense of humour.

Please enjoy responsibly.

So, You’re Going on a Date: Advice for Ladies


You’ve landed a date, which is your sole purpose as an unmarried lady. This is the first step to landing the husband you need so that you can finally stop all that bothersome thinking for yourself.

First things first: Choose the underwear you hope to show off. That the underwear should be spotlessly clean goes without saying, but every woman should wear the best quality underwear that she can afford and if she can’t afford it, what’s a little debt in the grand scheme of things? Also, the color should be preferably pink with lots of lace and ruffles. This underwear says “Why, I never expected you to see these at all! I’m just a shy little pure waif waiting for a tough man like you to protect me,” whereas all other underwear says “I am a wanton whore who will probably give you the clap.” and going without underwear entirely is far too suspicious and is punishable by death.

Once you’ve chose your underwear, it’s time to choose your purse!

A lady’s handbag is always very telling about what type of woman she is and is a great way to showcase her keen sense of style. Date bags should always be small and dainty; you wouldn’t want the boy you’re with to think there’s something in the depths that bites if disturbed. Because if he catches on, he’ll probably alert the others. They can’t know. If you think he’s on to you, flutter your eyelashes and faint. His noble side will kick in and distract him from the horrible truth of what lurks in your purse and will buy you time to develop an appropriate elimination and disposal plan.

Don’t forget to put your lipstick in your purse before you leave the house and for the love of God, slap some lipstick on that pale gash you call a mouth. To remain eligible, a woman must have youth or fake it well enough that people are polite enough not to mention how far beyond child bearing years she will soon be. Rouge up those cheeks, ladies! (But not too much, you sloppy hussy!)

It’s important to make sure your make-up is done before you leave for the evening with your fella. Don’t use the car mirror to fix your make-up. The man needs it in driving and it annoys him very much to have to turn around to see what’s behind him or to have to catch glimpses of your horrifying face in the mirror.

Speaking of cars, how do you enter a car? Do you get into cars head first? You’ll look prettier if you slide in sideways at 45 degree angle while humming the national anthem. It’s an easy way to make an good impression so your guy knows he’s dating a lady with class!

Once you arrive at your dinner destination (a first date must ALWAYS be dinner first), allow your gentlemen to guide you inside the establishment- but keep that physical touch to a minimum. Don’t be familiar with your escort by caressing him in public. Any open show of affection is in bad taste and usually embarrasses or humiliates him, because you are not worthy. He has blessed you with his attention and it is your duty not to fuck it up. If you ruin this, he may move on to the others. You have a duty.

Feel free to peruse the menu after you both sit down, but try not to set your heart on any one dish. The man always does the ordering. Never ask the waiter anything for yourself. He has to think he’s in control. It will all be easier if he thinks he’s in control.

The trickiest part of the evening is certainly the conversation. If you are a gal who uses frank, men’s locker room language, DON’T on this first date. Avoid shocking your date. Even if he uses such language and hears all the guys and dolls in the senior class using it, he wants his date to be better than the rest of the crowd. However, if you have nothing to contribute to the conversation, feel free to say shocking things. He’ll be too stunned to realize what a bad conversationalist you really are.

If you’re really stuck on something to say, encourage him to tell a joke. Sure it will inevitably be a joke of incredibly poor taste and far out of date, but make believe you’ve heard this joke for the first time. Remember your most important job is to build up and maintain his ego (which gets bruised plenty in business). Morale is a woman’s business. His ego will blind him when the time is right.

Dinner is over. Your perfectly made up face, the precisely right shade of pink underpants you ‘inadvertently’ flashed him while you slid into the car, and your fawning conversation have won over his heart.

What do you do if he invites you back to his place for a nightcap? In a situation like this, social conventions can do very little to protect a girl really bent on getting into difficulties. In this case, a girl not out of her teens would do better to avoid such an engagement unless others, considerably more mature than she, are present nearby and can lend assistance when the time comes. A career girl, from her twenties onward, can accept such an invitation but should not stay beyond ten or ten-thirty, so as to avoid suspicion. An old rule and a good one is ‘Avoid the appearance of evil.’ It is still very true that the public at large is less likely to believe a pretty little woman could be capable of the terrible things that befell that man if she gets out of there long before the man in question has been discovered.

In the event he doesn’t invite you back for a nightcap, that’s all right. That’s to be expected. Invite him in for a nightcap yourself. If he refuses, release the thing in the depths of your purse and slip inside before your neighbours are alerted by the screaming.




Misfortune Cookies

2016 was, for me and many others, a flaming pile of steaming garbage.

There were good moments.

Not many, but they were there.

Despite it being a hard year personally, I recognize there are a lot of ways in which I am still fortunate.

So, what better way to celebrate this past New Years than to create something combing the fortunate and the unfortunate? Something tasty but upsetting to properly celebrate what a garbage year 2016 was. What better way to do that than to create cookies filled with nihilism.

Hence, Misfortune Cookies.

Here, I’ve decided to provide you with a tutorial on how to make your own Misfortune Cookies. Although, I am aware, you could make these for a variety of purposes. I intend to and will likely be selling them around my city.

Anyway. Tutorial

Let’s do this.


Miss Kris Misfortune Cookies

  • 2 egg whites – at room temp
  • 1 tsp pure Vanilla and/or Almond Extract
  • 2 tsp Water
  • 1 tbsp Lemon Juice
  • 3 tbsp Vegetable oil
  • ½ Cup  All Purpose Flour
  • ½ Cup White Sugar
  • 1½ tsp Cornstarch
  • ¼ tsp Salt
  • food colouring of your choice or none if you don’t like fun. I recommend the food colouring gel they use for fondant
  • Parchment Paper
  • Kitchen Gloves is a good idea
  • The complete and total sacrifice of your fingertips
  • Fortunes written with a profound understanding of the void
    1. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. TRUST ME ON THIS.
    2. In a medium sized bowl, add the egg whites and other wet ingredients save the food colouring
    3. Whisk until the eggs are frothy (not stiff) about 20sec.
    4. Sift in the  dry ingredients and add slowly to the wet until you have a smooth batter with no lumps
    5. Add the food colouring until it’s the colour you wanted. In my case, I used black so if you’re anything like me, your batter should look like it’s something Barb gargled in the Upside Down.
    6.  Measure out 1 tbsp batter for each cookie and put it on the sheet, using the back of a spoon to spread out thinly to 4 ½ inch diameter both ways. ONLY DO TWO COOKIES AT A TIME BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT MAGIC (yet)
    7. Bake at 375F for 6 minutes or until the edges are brown (unless you colour them black like I did in which case AHA HAHAHAHAHAH GOOD LUCK).  Keep a close eye in them, THEY BURN LIKE I DO IN THE SUN.
    9. Pull the cookies out of the oven, flip them over and place the fortune in the middles. Fold them in half and press those edges together but then bend the entire cookie over a mug or a bowl or some shit like that YOU ARE PROBABLY TAKING TOO LONG.
    11. AHHHH!
    12. Place in a muffin tin while the cookies cool so they keep their shape and you can have a few moments to emulate Will Smith in that scene from Men In Black where his fingerprints get scorched off.
    13. Take a deep breath and assure yourself this will get easier with practice. (These are lies)



You have what may appear to be a totally burnt husk of a cookie, but is actually a delicious courier of bleak awareness.

Why not try some of these fun fortunes?

  • You and everyone you love will eventually be forgotten
  • When you stare into the void, it changes nothing
  • Your actions mean nothing to an uncaring universe
  • This cookie had no nutritional value

Or the ever classic Homer gem: The price of stamps will climb ever higher.

I’m Hamletting

I often find myself debating over whether or not I’m a patient person.

Like everyone, I have both aspects to my personality but sometimes I feel the level to which I have patience is more like a weather pattern than a measurable amount.

It’s a fine line to walk between trying to be patient and trying not to let yourself get walked on. Go too far in either direction and you instantly make yourself the person in the wrong.

It’s an exhausting tightrope to walk at times and I think it’s also got something to do with self-assuredness. Unless you’re lucky enough to be charismatic to get away with it, being self-assured can make you seem like a giant B-hole.

In fiction, self-confidence, decisiveness, and determination is almost always portrayed as the trait of the loveable rogue or the villain- it’s rare there’s any go between. I feel like society tends to pigeon hole those traits into those roles and speaking as a woman, admittedly a privileged one in many ways, I feel like I often feel that displaying those traits will make me the villain rather than the rogue.

Part of this is because I am not patient enough to explain my reasoning all the damn time and part of this is because I am sometimes tempted to lose my temper when people don’t or won’t try to see things from my perspective. I consider myself logic girl, if I do something I usually have a reason for it. If I DON’T have a reason for it, I’m probably either unaware of what I’m doing or I’m having some sort of repressed emotion that’s puppeteering me like I’m possessed. The latter is especially frustrating and something I’m working on. (THERA-WHAT?! THERAPY!)

There are some things in which I am utterly immovable without question; I have a set of moral codes I try very hard to live my life by and when pressed I will not bend.

One of my proudest moments is a small moment from a few years ago. I was in a group job interview with two other candidates. We were asked that if we and one other person in the room were to be hired, who should it be? One candidate chose me, based on my educational history. The other, specifically didn’t choose me because I had listed one of my faults as being too blunt and she said that made her uncomfortable. When asked, I refused to choose. You have to choose, I was told. I said no. I pointed out that I had limited data available to me, neither of the other candidates had education directly related to the position and I was not aware of their employment history, and their answers were too general for me to determine what skills they had that would useful in this position. To choose for the sake of choosing, was nonsensical and thus I refused to do it.

It’s not easy to defy a person in a position of power, even if that position is as limited as a potential employer. At the time, I was working in fast food, barely able to make enough to live on, but I still refused to abandon my principles; namely, making an uniformed decision that would do nothing to showcase my own skills and would only insult my fellow candidates.

I did end up getting that job.

I mean, it turned out to be a clusterfuck of a thing and I had more than one paycheque bounce but it was a huge step up at the time and gave me some good experience to put on my resume.

I suppose the reason this stuff about patience is on my mind is due to a few situations I find myself in where I want to react one way, but I keep second guessing whether or not I should.

Should I resist the urge to do things the way I want to do them for the sake of harmony and patiently navigate the situation, thus averting upset to others? Or should I throw caution to the wind and say what I think?

Am I betraying the things I believe if I get frustrated and instead of educating and listening to all sides like I strive for, I just say to hell with it and yell BYE!

To be or not to be, that is the question.

More like:

To bitch or not to bitch, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of outrageous fuckery
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
and by not giving a shit, end them.



As you can probably tell from my radio silence as of late, I’m low on spoons lately.

What spoons I do I have, I’ve been using to work on peeling away old layers of people I forced myself to be. It’s kind of like refinishing an antique piece of furniture that some idiot painted multiple times…except that I’m the idiot that painted it.

I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time, I’m trying really hard to make my life one that I want to be living, and I’m trying to figure out how to be happy.

Looking inside is hard, especially when there’s not usually any validation in there.

I realize that I almost always look outwardly for validation unless I have concrete proof I’m in the right. This sometimes makes being a human very painful.

I had a group of people the last few years that I measured myself by and they’re no longer a part of my life. I didn’t realize that I WAS measuring myself by them until they were gone.

While they remain a good group of folks and I’m sad that our friendship seems to be over, I realize that I’ve been straying from a lot of the things that are important to me.

I’ve been doing the thing that I always do that ends up hurting me, I force myself into a box I don’t fit into because I want to belong. I don’t want to have to feel good about myself because most of the time my brain is busy telling me how fucking terrible I am in almost every way (even if logically I don’t believe that, emotionally it’s the setting I’m usually set to).

You know what, though?

FUCK that.

It isn’t worth it. Logically I’ve known that for a long time but lately I feel like I’m finally starting to maybe flip the breaker that makes me a little braver, a little more me.

I don’t know what it is, if it’s a ‘forged by fire’ kind of thing where you can’t change yourself until whatever was holding you back breaks, but I’m starting to be ready to just be one version of myself all the time.

I mean, don’t get me wrong it’s terrifying and I will only do it in little bitty baby steps, but I am so so tired of just feeling like I deserve or have to choice but to deal with other people’s issues.

I’m sure there are a lot of people out there who think I’m a giant waste of space but you know what? They can fuck right off. Yes, I’m damaged but no one with any semblance of cognizance isn’t and I’m trying.

I’m trying really really hard and I have been for a long time. Anyone who can’t see that or doesn’t think that counts for anything isn’t worth my time.

I’m going to put myself out there in situations where I might end up looking like an idiot. I’m going to try to feel feelings without throwing up and I’m going to try to give myself half the credit I give to other people.

I’m probably going to fail.

A lot.

But I’ve got to try.


P.S. I was literally about to write a note here that said ‘sorry I’m talking about my feelings and repeating sentiments I’ve said before’ but you know what? No. This is my blog and I’ll write what I damned well please.

P.P.S. See? Progress.

Roots & Connections & Stuff

It occurred to me the other day that I think I’m starting to grow roots.

Not literally, I’m not becoming an Ent, but figuratively. For the first time in my adult life, I actually know some of my neighbours. I don’t necessarily know all their names, but I know most of their pet’s names and I know their faces.

There are shops, not many but some, where the sales staff and I recognize each other and transactions are peppered with legitimate questions of well being or good wishes for the day.

Having lived in this city most of my adult life, I finally kind of know where most stuff is and in what direction.

I have a routine.

I have the spare keys to a friend’s place.

I have a daily social circle, which is completely comprised of people and dogs I know at the dog park, but I am totally ok with that.

Most of these changes largely have to do with my dog. He’s forced me to become a part of my community, which is probably really good for me and has made me realize what an hermit I can actually be.

While I’m kind of pleasantly surprised about these new tendrils of what may be roots, I also want to rip them up and run away?

To quote Walt Whitman really loosely, I’m a bundle of contradictions.

I’ve moved so many times since the first time I moved away from home, I don’t really want to go through the packing and unpacking part again, but I’d be lying if I said the idea of picking up and moving far away didn’t appeal.

I don’t know if this is a comment on my mental health or a very natural desire to go seek out newness because it’s exciting, but it is what it is.

I think maybe it’s just a sign that there are still things I’m looking for, things I feel are missing. It’s probably also kind of a sign of frustration, this year has been the biggest struggle I’ve had with my mental health since I was unemployed. I have been and I am getting help, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still kind of butt nugget sometimes.

I’m trying to figure out what it is that I feel like I’m missing, but that isn’t easy either. It’s kind of like when you’re trying to choose a movie to watch but you can’t decide what you’re in the mood for so you just end up watching YouTube videos until you end up in that weird part of the internet again. (I really hope it’s not just me who does that)

I think part of why I’m so restless is that I haven’t had much for vacation yet this year. I took a week to go to the cottage, but I’ve been saving half of my vacation days so I can go to my friend’s wedding in Georgia.

I’m super excited. I’ve never been further south than New York City, so going to Georgia is a big deal for me. Not only that, I get to hang out with awesome people and meet people from my online community that I’ve never gotten to see in person before. THERE WILL BE MANY AWKWARD HUGS!

Man, speaking of roots, I have quite a few strong ones in that community. These are a group of virtual friends who have been there for me from when I worked fast food and hated my life to my first big-girl job, unemployment, and my current life. They are the most supportive bunch of delightful weirdos you could ever want to meet and I get to meet some of them in person in a few weeks and I AM SO EXCITED! CAPS LOCKS IS ON, MUTHA TRUCKERS, BECAUSE I AM YELLING WITH JOY….FIGURATIVELY. I DO HAVE NEIGHBOURS, YOU KNOW. IT WOULD BE AWKWARD TO LITERALLY YELL.

You know what? I don’t have much else to say this week, so I’m going to end it on this high note.

To my friend, Amanda, I am so excited to see you again and to help out with whatever I can for your wedding. In fact, I will probably look even more excited than I did last time we hung out.










P.S. In retrospect, I realize this is kind of creepy but whatever. THIS IS OUR FRIENDSHIP.