Simple Pleasures of the First World

best things in life
best things in life
So many things that are great in life.

Ok, let’s face it, the world still kinda sucks. Omicron. Looming war. Only 6 episodes of The Expanse, season 6…

So, I thought I’d look in the other direction- a look at the good things.

Now, I get that I live a very privileged life in a very privileged part of the world, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be grateful for some of life’s simple pleasures.

Here are my top 10.

    1. A brand-new razor blade. Oh, the joy of how it glides over my skin and scythes down my feeble beard-like growths like it was a lightsaber. More blood, sure, but pure joy nonetheless.
    2. A cup of coffee at the perfect temperature. Too hot, and it burns. Too cool, and it’s like drinking coffee-flavoured milk that’s been out in the sun too long. Drinking that coffee at the perfect moment feels like I’ve ignited a heating coil in my throat that warms me all the way to my stomach, then, seconds later, the caffeine soars through my bloodstream like a jolt of pure joy. I imagine heroin is like this, which is why I’ve never tried it.
    3. A perfectly full dishwasher. All the dishes are in the right place, no space wasted, nothing left to rattle around. Sadly, I am the only one in the world with this amazing skill.
    4. Finding my keys in the same place I thought I’d left them. See, they tend to wander around when left alone, so it’s nice to see that they sometimes stay put. A bad day is when those keys are unfindable, my wallet is lost, and for some reason, I have misplaced my shoes.
    5. Crunching frosted grass under my feet. I know it’s another odd one, but it is so very satisfying to hear that sound and feel my foot sink into the semi-solid ground. So if you see me walking around my lawn on a frosty morning in my bathrobe and slippers, and giggling to myself, that’s why. Usually, anyway.
    6. Warm laundry on a cold day. If you’ve not put on warm jammies on a cold day, then, OMG, you’ve missed something. I imagine this is what happens in heaven or Bill Gates’ house (Here’s your warm PJs, Bill, now go buy up some more farmland so we can control food production.)
    7. The taco-smell of my dog’s feet. I know, I know, I could have gone with the smell of warm bread or fresh coffee or a new car or bacon, but as long as the Snoozadoodle has not stepped in poo or anything, that smell is oddly comforting. I suspect I was a dog in another life. A yappy, annoying one.
    8. Finding a good show. Honestly, finding one is rarer than finding an original, rocket-firing Boba Fett figure, so when I actually find something brilliant, I’m like a 3-year-old hopped up on Timbits watching Paw Patrol. It shouldn’t be so rare to find a show that creates a world I want to live in, that has a great villain, well-developed characters I love, powerful dialogue that sings, stunning visuals, epic the-heroes-cannot-win moments, near-perfect pacing, and scenes that will make me laugh or make me cry. The Expanse for me, this year. Dune, last year. Lord of the Rings, a billion years ago.
    9. A good sleep. I was going to say a good poo, (yes, I’m at that age, now), but man, a good night’s sleep is gold. Too often, as I get older and older, as all sorts of things sag and turn grey, I find it hard to sleep through the night. Stress, aches and pains, a need to pee (when I even dream of hunting for a place to pee), or the Snoozeadoodle hacking up a lung all combine to make it hard to have a good sleep. I can’t even imagine being a parent with a newborn.
    10. My family and friends. Sounds trite, right, but the truth is, having lost another good friend just before Christmas, I am grateful for the people still in my life, and for the experiences we share. In the end, life is less about happiness 24/7 and more about finding those rare moments of bliss and having people to share them with.

Thanks, as always, to everyone who takes the time to read this blog. It feels good to get back to writing. Plus, if I am ever to have a chance at getting published, I desperately need to get more people reading this blog.  So, weirdly enough, I need to write more.

However, please share if you like this content (or just want to punish your friends/family with something terrible) so I can continue to build my audience. 

 

 

 

 

 

Vegas Surprises

The rest of the day began well enough. Most horror novels start this way.

The Village Street Eateries in NY, NY, Vegas. My favourite area to eat.
The Village Street Eateries in NY, NY, Vegas. My favourite area to eat.

We had THE BEST lunch at NY, NY. I love this hotel, with its fake streets and fake Manhattan skyline and fake Statue of Liberty.

We ate at the not-so-fake Broadway Burger Bar and Grill. Made our own. The boyz had their traditional hamburger – patty, bun and ketchup, no, nothing more, just plain with ketchup, no, no tomato or mustard, just plain.

I ate the massive and diet-killing philly burger, which was largely a huge burger stacked with cheese, steak, and grilled onions and peppers. OMG good. I instantly gained 30lbs.

Plus, our waiter was simply fantastic. Chatty. Informative. Funny. He not only served us food, he gave us some great advice as well.

However, it was right after that meal that things started to go pear-shaped.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World began to get a migraine which could be from me making loud eating noises and moaning, ‘Omg,’ this burger is good for the entire lunch, or it could be the beating her head took on the roller coaster, or it could simply be the stress and pressure of a day filled with making sure The-Youngest does not behave like a rabid howler monkey hopped up on coffee.

Maybe all 3.

But by the time we were done, she wasn’t feeling well at all.

We could have gone back to the hotel, but The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World wanted to make sure her boy had a great day. She’s amazing that way.

So off to the Hershey store we went.

Yes, they made a Statue of Liberty out of Twizzlers. This is Vegas, after all. Be thankful it wasn't condoms.
Yes, they made a Statue of Liberty out of Twizzlers. This is Vegas, after all. Be thankful it wasn’t condoms.

Now, it’s quite a balance for us, letting The-Youngest have the best time possible while making sure we don’t get kicked out of a store because our child climbed the walls or stuffed his underwear full of hard candy.

I mean, on one hand, we want him to be a kid and enjoy those kid-moments of pure happiness.

On the other hand, we do not want to live in a world ruled by unsupervised 9-year-olds going all Lord-of-the-Flies, taking off his shirt and rubbing chocolate on themselves.

And the simplest solution… The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World held The-Youngest’s hand. In a vice-like momma-grip.

But wow, did he love that store. He dragged his mom to every part of the store, showing her cups that looked like they were made out of chocolate, pillows that looked like Jolly Rancher candies, water bottles with the Hershey logo, and HUGE chocolate bars the size of brief-cases.

What, no apple-flavoured Jolly Ranchers? But I saw them on YouTube!
What, no apple flavoured Jolly Ranchers? But I saw them on YouTube!

Then he ran into the most terrible of things. Something he’d not prepared himself for in any way despite having watched hours of video on what the inside of the Hershey store looked like. They didn’t have a dispenser for apple flavoured Jolly Ranchers.

The-Youngest wasn’t pleased. Nothing was turning out like the YouTube videos showed. First, the roller coasters were terrifying. No one told him that. Then we wouldn’t let him gamble more than $2. THEN, horror of horrors, no apple flavoured Jolly Ranchers!!!!

To be fair, he took it pretty well. It would be like me going to a tank museum and finding all the tanks didn’t have guns, or The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World going to a shoe store and finding a perfect pair of shoes, but forgetting her wallet. Or not having them in her size.

But he couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t have his favourite flavour. He wanted to speak to someone about this.

Luckily, that lasted only, what, a minute, then he was off, again, rushing to look at the orange peanut butter cup displays and touch all the shot glasses. FYI, if you ever buy anything like that in a candy store, wash the sh*t out of it cuz I guarantee it’s been touched by 10,000 little sticky, snotty, dirty fingers (and that’s just kid-fingers. Imagine what the adults have been touching!)

In the end, The-Youngest bought a pillow, a big bag of Jolly Ranchers, (assorted flavours) and got a free gigantic chocolate bar because, I think, he was so damn polite at the till.

That seemed to cheer him up. Nothing like free candy, right?

Then, we went to go outside. Into the bright sunshine. Into the heat.

Only to find it was raining.

Pouring, actually.

Kim without make-up? Vegas without sun? Are these things even possible?
Kim without make-up? Vegas without the sun? Are these things even possible?

I was super excited.

It’s not every day you get to see rain in Vegas. It’s kind of odd.  Like seeing a good Adam Sandler comedy or a Kardashian without make-up.

So, anyone have any idea what happens in Vegas when it rains?

What Writers Do on a Vacation in Vegas

You got time for a confession?
You got time for a confession?

Confession time. I hate everyone, and everything at 6

I hate everyone, and everything at 6 am in the morning before I’ve had coffee.

I do not leap out of bed and think, wow, what a wonderful world, I’m so grateful to be alive. I think, why no one has invented an intravenous machine that pumps hot coffee directly into your veins?

Everyone is still asleep when I get up and it’s hard to sneak out to do writing because The-Prettiest-Girl-In-the-World has momma-hearing, (and that means she detects the exact moment my breathing changes.) After thumping around, I kiss her on the forehead and tell her I hope she gets back to sleep.

The strip and casinos are dead at 6 am. Even the in-house Starbucks isn’t busy. The few who are up seem to be either rushing out with a suitcase, or staggering around red-eyed like they never went to sleep. There are a few nutbags at the hotel gym, I should imagine. Some at the slots looking tired and broke. I see one sad-looking soul at the bar (and I’m not even sure they’re serving anything.) But a casino is a spooky place without a lot of people.

Right now, I hate everyone I see. The thin guy in his expensive jogging shoes and high-tech sweat gear heading out for a run. The large black woman who’s closing in on 400lbs who has decided yoga pants are a good look this morning. The overly nice barista who tries to make happy-happy conversation with me when all I want to do is order a coffee, grande. The white-haired old guy who couldn’t figure out what to order despite standing in line for 10 freaking minutes and stands at the counter, looking at the board like this is his most difficult decision of his day and if he gets it wrong, he’s going back to the concentration camp or something, (spoiler alert, this will be me when I’m 200.)

Lacking a Tim Hortons or Dunkin Donuts, I guess a Starbucks will do.
Lacking a Tim Hortons or Dunkin Donuts, I guess a Starbucks will do.

I need coffee. Coffee doesn’t so much restore my faith in people as it moves my brain way from sleepy grumpiness to wide-awake creativity.

It really quite a transformation. I go from wanting to murder the guy who looked like he shined his bald head with a floor buffer to give it a blinding shine to reading the burlap sacks on the walls of Starbucks and wondering when the sack says “save the Amazon, use Jute” what the heck Jute is? A tree? A plant like hemp? What if I had a character named Jute? From the Amazon? Who wears burlaps sacks?

So, this morning, yes, not only will I write a bit, but I have to figure out how to make the tickets to the High Roller Ferris Wheel usable on my mobile phone. We’ve also brought tickets to the Beatles Love (Cirque du Soliel style) because The-Oldest needs a good music fix. He hasn’t been able to play his piano for nearly a week, listened to no classical music for at least two says, and I can see that his eye is starting to twitch.

Last night I failed to get those tickets on my phone. I was simply too tired to figure it all out. With more coffee, I hope everything becomes clear. Last night, The-Youngest, who listed the High Roller in his top 10 then asked, actually asked, if he could bring his iPad cuz it could be boring and he didn’t want to be bored on it.

This from the guy who bugged us for WEEKS to go on the High Roller.

I said, ah, that would be a no. No iPad.

New York, New York, in Las Vegas. The Holy Grail of the kid side of Vegas. Rides. Candy. Arcades.
I would actually love to visit the real NY one day, but for now, this’ll have to do.

Also planned for today…NY NY, mostly for the rollercoaster there, which (after supper), The-Youngest vowed NOT to go on because of his terrifying experience yesterday. He’s gone from literally vibrating with excitement at the mention of a rollercoaster to looking like he’s about to have his liver removed with a spoon and all his electronics sold to hobos.

But The-Oldest is dead keen on that coaster. He’s fearless on those things. Beyond fearless, really. He loves the speed, the exhilaration, the feel of terror and impending death.

He’s 13.

Then after NY, NY, we’re hitting the candy shops, a place that The-Youngest can talk to you about for hours. I kid you not.

The Hershey Store in Vegas, with a freaking WALL of Jolly Ranchers
The Hershey Store in Vegas, with a freaking WALL of Jolly Ranchers

“Joe, did you know they have giant jars of Jolly Ranchers that are just the red kind, but I don’t know if they’re actually the watermelon kind or the cherry kind or what, but it doesn’t really make any difference because I like them both, but I also like the apple ones which are green, and they have jars of them, too, and all the other colors, and I think, if I have enough room in my luggage, that I’ll get the green ones, cuz apple is my favourite and Joe, did you know that they have Hershey bars that are so big that they cost $50…”

Knowing how much time everything takes, we’ll have a full day. I suspect we’ll be spending hours in the candy store alone while The-Youngest debates which two jars of candy he’ll take home. Joe, did you know that on one hand, the watermelon ones are good in the summer because they taste like real watermelon, and that’s refreshing, but apple is kind of refreshing, too, and tastes like, you know, apple, which always tastes good, but then, again, oh, look there’re the jars filled with the blueberry ones and they’re my all-time favourite…

Fun times.

And I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After I’ve had my coffee, that is.