Before you can play the guitar… (part 5)

Need to catch up on parts 1 to 4? (click here)

I suppose I have to apologize for the title of this piece, “before you can play the guitar”, because I did “play the guitar” (technically speaking) at this point in our odyssey. I dimmed my bedroom lights to set the mood for my long awaited acoustic debut. It was to be a very intimate set, since the audience (consisting of one husband) had been banished to the living room.

After propping myself into position with pillows and finding the perfect balance of the guitar on my lap, I let loose. This abandon lasted all of 10 seconds, more than enough time to discover the importance of the tiny battery powered box that Mr. Pawn Shop had thrown in to sweeten the deal. Only, my second hand tuner didn’t seem to be able to make up its mind. My E string was flat on the first pluck, then sharp, then flat, then the little needle on the tuner started swaying, casually and unhurried, from one extreme to the other. I turned it off and on, and even replaced the batteries, but nothing helped. It eventually gave up on decision making altogether, and wouldn’t even commit on which note I was playing.

So the tuner was a dud. No problem. My musical background includes sitting through countless 7:30am high school band practices with flute in hand. Tuning up in a room full of groggy teenagers can’t help but give you an ear, if not for perfect pitch, then at least for knowing when you’re way off. So I cleared my mind, Jedi style, and got in tune with vibrations of the universe. Pluck. Flat? Sure. Why not. I turned the key a full turn. Still flat? I kept turning. The note was slowly tightening into something familiar and–

TWANG!!!!!

The string snapped with the adrenalin loaded pop of a balloon! It caught me totally by surprise. Like the time my husband drove a golf ball through our kitchen window (from the inside!), you never believe these things will happen to you until you’re sitting there shaking from the shock of it. All I wanted to do was play the guitar, so much for that. Who cares about tune when you don’t even have all the strings!

I burst out crying. What with the birthday crisis, the pawn shop wheeling and dealing, and the simple, brutal disappointment of a disappointment, I couldn’t help it. It was definitely time to make use of that audience in the living room. I dragged myself off the bed and trudged, in pure glorious misery, down the hall, sobbing all the way.

“What’s wrong?” asked my husband when he saw my red face come round the corner.

“I think I got ripped off,” I wailed.

He sighed and held out his arms. I ran headfirst into his hug and clung tight, sniffling.

“It’s too soon to know that,” he said.

Stay tuned for part 6!

DIY Summer Fashion Series: imagine/sketch/create (part one)

An idea takes form

out of a swirl of fabric

and a page of gemstones

Imagine a dress of

the lightest fabric

weighted by secret

flashes of bright stone

imagine/sketch/create

Click here for part 2!

Before you can play the guitar… (part 4)

Need to catch up on parts 1 to 3? (click here)

I walked out of the pawn shop twenty minutes later carrying the guitar, a busker’s dream case with lush velvety green lining, a digital tuner, and an ipod with a case (don’t ask), all bought for a total $220 cdn. Halfway through our haggling, I’d started to feel a little guilty. I wasn’t used to the merciless back and forth and sneak plays. But after listening to my quarry whine to another customer about the cost of the oak banisters he was installing as part of his total home renovation, any trepidation I’d felt dissolved.

My proudest moment? I had the man down to $230. I knew he wasn’t moving, per say, but maybe I could get him to bend. “My personal budget was $200,” I said. “The highest I could possibly justify is $220, because I could keep telling myself it’s only one twenty dollar bill more.” Sure he dropped the extra ten bucks, but something tells me I’ve got a long way to go before I should take on the New Delhi Market. sigh.

Only one thing separates guitar players from the non-playing public (hint: it’s not the guitar!). Only guitar players know how fantastically “cool” one feels walking down the street carrying a beat up guitar case. There’s really nothing like it. I put on my best tortured musician pout and headed for home. But I had no idea how quickly my sidewalk act would became the real deal. I should really have checked under that Band-Aid.

Stay tuned for part 5!

Before you can play the guitar… (part 3)

Need to catch up on parts 1 & 2? (click here)

Everything I knew about pawn shops, I’d learned from the movies. And sure enough, when I walked in, the first thing I saw was a sleazy looking scruffed up man behind the counter. He leered at me and I smiled back cheerfully. My plan was to play the naïve university student looking for my first guitar. You know, laid back, chill, financially wishy washy. I figured it would give me the edge if things got ugly on the bargaining table. I wanted my ruthlessness to catch him off guard. Just as long as he didn’t suspect the truth, that my backpack was disguising a woman in crisis, one who was leaving his shop with a guitar whether he (or she!) liked it or not.

Wouldn’t you know it, a pawn shop with a dozen acoustic guitar cases on display only had one of the actual instruments in stock! The man brought me fate’s “pick” from the back of the store and I was sold by the first strum. Ok, honestly, I was sold by the name Fender on the neck and the magical fit and balance of the guitar in my arms. The sound was miserable, completely out of tune and made worse by my hack strumming. But the guitar just felt, somehow, right. There was no doubt that before whatever tragic circumstances had brought it to the pawn shop, the guitar had been loved. Its worn blond wood body bore the scars of a thousand campfire sing-alongs, and I laughed when I found a Band-Aid stuck to its side to prove it!

Stay tuned for part 4

Top 10 rules for the checkout line (+bonus!)

Dear customer,

This is a letter straight from the trenches, from a poor cashier who spent years chained to a register. Despite the fundamental flaw in our relationship – I want your money and you don’t want to give it to me – I propose a truce. You and I have an amazing opportunity to improve each other’s day! To guarantee smiles on both sides of the counter, just remember to take these ten rules with you the next time you go shopping.

1-Please be PATIENT. The scanner will only read one barcode at a time and the computer will only take one keystroke at a time. Remember this: the cashier hates that you have to wait even more than you do. We know what waiting does to people, and those are the nightmares that wake us up in the middle of the night!

If you do find yourself in a line:
-get your money ready
-group your items and expose their bar-codes
-do not under any circumstances make any kind of repetitive noise (tapping, clicking, gnashing of teeth, etc.)

Note: The speed of the line should in no way be taken a function of the cashier’s competence or intelligence. Even geniuses have to pay rent! Grab a magazine, grab a breath, grab a pack of gum, and deal with it.

2-When you bring me a product with no barcode and no identifying marks whatsoever, there will be an inevitable delay. No, I do not know the code for 26″ by 45″ alabaster mini blinds off the top of my head. If I did, both you and I should be very worried.

Note:Telling me the price is not a substitute for the inventory sku code, and throwing a drawer pull in my general direction while grunting something about two dollars just isn’t going to cut it. And then when you accuse me, indignantly, of not trusting you, well, now you’ve gone and made it personal!

3-If the item has no barcode it is not free. If it has a barcode, but doesn’t scan on my first try… it is not free. Second try… nope, still not free. Third… not free. Fourth….let me check…NOT FREE!

Note: I know you thought you were being clever and funny with your “must be free then”, but so did the other 10 000 people who tried to get it for free before you. And no, despite what you may have heard, I didn’t let them get away with it either.

4-I know this news will come as a shock to many of you, but in this great country we have something called tax (pronounced taks). Deep breath, let this new information sink in. Now, when you get to my cash, and before you open your mouth to ask what you’re going to ask, stop, and remember the new word you’ve just learned.

5- Yes, that is the terrifying total. I know it’s an awful shock to get up to the cash with 3 items that are $2 each and hear a total of $6 (plus that crazy tax thing). Accusing me of any number of devious ways I must have manipulated my scanning to rob you will not change the total. It will only make me want to use my apparent criminal genius to plot your untimely demise.

6- “I exist.” For the 30 seconds we are part of each other’s lives, you are my whole world. Every move I make, I do it for you. When you ignore me or, worse, spend the whole time on your cell phone, you (sniffle) break my heart.

7- Only you can decide if you want the green one or the blue one. Go on, revel in your freedom and independence. Just please make up your mind before you get to my cash.

8- When it comes to change, two heads are never better than one. When I’m half way through counting out $13.86 in change, the quarter you just found in your back pocket does not help in the slightest.

9- There is no __________ (insert random word from dictionary) special discount. No, not even on Wednesdays.

10- Being in a hurry does not make you any more important than the person you’re trying to butt ahead of. Being late does not make you special. It only makes you late. This is not communism, just plain good ol’ customer service!

Most of all, please recognize the awesome power you have as a customer to change my day for the better. It certainly doesn’t take much, a smile, a joke, a “someday you’ll get out of here” bit of encouragement. I guarantee not only I, but my next customer will thank you!

Bonus- If you insist on telling me step by step how to do my job, that’s wonderful. Come on back behind the counter and I’ll give you my apron, while I get the heck out of here!

(condensed from my “Ten (+4) Rules” article in New Writing)

If only this were true about writing!

“Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work.” – Aristotle

Sure, easy for a philosopher to say! If gardening was one of Aristotle’s pleasures, I doubt you’d have found his fellow Greeks lining up to argue the perfection of his produce. I mean really, would you argue with Aristotle (even if it was about a tomato)? As for us writers, we’re stuck with the old adage:

“Practice makes perfect.” – Everyone Else

Subway teaches how to make quick healthy lunches with your own “Sandwich Center”

Read the resume of any writer and you’re bound to find a bunch of apron jobs muddying up his/her early career path. But there’s a silver lining to the suffering. Every once and a while this kind of glamorous job history can yield brilliant insights. Spending eleven months as a certified Subway “Sandwich Artist” left me with more than an unbridled revulsion to the smell of salami. It gave me the secret to fast delicious lunches: prepare and localize the ingredients!

The Sandwich Center
Fill one of your fridge’s crisper drawers or, if you prefer, a plastic bin with:

• Tupperware containers (or baggies) of washed shredded lettuce, sliced tomatoes, and any other of your favourite prepped veggies
• Ziplocked lunch-meats 
• Pre-sliced cheese 
• Easy squeeze condiments
• Fruit (apples/oranges/grapes etc.)
• Juice boxes
• Mini yogurts

All you do is take The Sandwich Center drawer out of the fridge and plop it down on the counter, then you’re ready to Bread-Bag-and-Go! Even my hubby started making his own healthy lunches with the oh-so-scientific implementation of The Sandwich Center. Until, of course, the novelty (and the ham) ran out. men. sigh. 

Note: I’m sure you’ve noticed the catch. Just like on those cooking shows with those handy glass bowls prefilled with chopped/minced/julienned/etc. ingredients, the veggie prep is the challenge here. I’m sure Rachael Ray and Bobby Flay have lackeys who chop up all their green peppers, but you and I are on our own. So turn on some tunes, slice up some tomatoes, and get ready for a week of easy breezy ”sandwich artistry”.

Save major time and money with this downloadable grocery list template and bonus online flyer trick!

How to save time and stress…

Is this you? You’re standing in the middle of the produce section when your brain suddenly blanks out. Did you want Yukon gold potatoes or red russets? Which ones were supposed to be on sale? Should you go for spinach or broccoli? You try a deep breath, yoga style, to center yourself. But your center’s set on vibrate, and its hungry rumblings aren’t doing a thing to clear your mind! You’re stuck staring helplessly at the string of empty veggie bags coiled in the bottom of your cart. And you haven’t even hit the cereal aisle yet!

Note: Click through to Blank Canvas Living.com for more creative living posts by this author

I’ve always loathed grocery shopping. It’s stressful, time consuming, and expensive. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been overwhelmed by the endless choices (and sensory overload!) of today’s giant stores. After one too many times finding myself standing paralyzed with a bunch of carrots in my hand, I finally decided to do something it.

I applied my training in the design process and creative problem solving to come up with the template you see above. You can download the .doc file below. The list is divided into food categories that jive with most grocery store layouts. Note: the “flavour” section is meant for condiments (I’m always poetic when honey mustard’s involved)

Click here to download Cymbria’s Grocery List Template

You can use your *Meal Map (*This meal planning system will be featured in an upcoming post) to help you fill in the list, or simply write down your most common cooking ingredients and family favourites.

How to save money…

I saved $45 at the checkout the last time I used this trick! Most grocery stores chains now post their weekly specials flyer online. They will usually let you print off a list of the sale items that interest you. Print off this list (or work of the flyer screen) and design your week’s Meal Map around the best deals. If you’re “winging it” instead, write these sale items on your grocery list template before you fill in the rest. With the sale items on the page in front of you, your brain will subconsciously build the remainder of the list around these foods. This trick is also handy for strategizing when to stock up on household items. I guarantee you’ll be as surprised as I was with how much you’ll save!

Follow these handy links to your grocery store’s weekly specials:
Sobeys
Loeb
Safeway
Loblaws

Don’t see yours? Links to other Canadian grocery stores can be found at Smartflyercanada.com. If you still aren’t finding it, try this page, and If you’re looking for links to American stores click here.

Does a Thursday dipped in chocolate become a Friday?

Do you believe everything you read in print? Well, if you do, pay attention. Today is a Friday. Oh sure, the weather network (and even a few newspapers) may be planting Thursday’s flag at the peak of noon, but I assure you it’s all one big terrible mix up.

What’s my evidence? You’re looking at it!

What other day but a Friday could one run into a “Free Chocolate Dipped Strawberry“ offer on the way to work? One minute I was trudging past the storefronts of 7th Ave, sullenly resigned to yet another so-close-but-yet-so-far Thursday. The next, there I was with a chocolate capped, palm sized jewel of a fruit being handed to me for free. I nibbled on it all the way down the sidewalk, up the elevator, and right into the office. It was, quite honestly, the best breakfast treat I’ve had in months - ripe and juicy, with a smooth milk chocolate helmet thick enough to take its yummy charge through battle.

So keep your eyes peeled for too-good-too-be-true advertisements on your way to work tomorrow. If a Thursday served up this kind of treat, imagine what a real bonified Friday might have in store for us!

Want to make today a Friday for you too?

(photo source)

Applying the scientific method to marriage reveals a terrifying secret

Let’s look at this whole marriage thing logically. Go on, take a deep breath and dive in. It’s about time someone at least gave it a shot.

Purpose: To measure and define the ratio of one marriage partner’s “right” proposed solutions to those of the other partner

Hypothesis: “I am always right” (come on, do we even need to test this!)

Method:
Step 1) Take two people with varied life experience who (ideally) respect each others intelligence and problem solving skills equally

Step 2) Place said two people in an endless variety of real-time challenges and social puzzles

Step 3) Test pros and cons of partners proposed solutions to determinine “rightness”

Conclusion: The “logical” assumption is that each partner will propose the best solution for the couple in 50% of the cases. Therefore, the “right” ratio can be defined as 50:50.

Application:The horror! There must be a flaw in my calculations. My husband couldn’t possibly have that kind of an edge! But him being right half the time would be an easy price to pay for him admitting he’s wrong the other 50% lol

Size does matter! (at least it did in 1960s Hong Kong)

Humans are by nature a competitive species. Some tick in our brains compels us to one-up one another at every available opportunity. This is all well and good for “survival of the fittest” and all that tom foolery, but there are times this biological quirk not only throws off our sense of reality, but messes with our sense of proportion too.

How big are your rims? Do they spin? They do, eh? Well, isn’t that special. Car rims have become major macho talking points for my generation. You better be chromed up and ready to roll on twenty-two inches of sparkling Star-Wars-styled steel if you want to call yourself a man.

But back in 1960s Hong Kong, men spent their money boosting a different set of inches (inches they didn’t have to keep in the garage). The son of a Hong Kong tailor told me today how at the peak of the bell bottom fad, a man came into the shop asking for “twenty-two inch wide pant legs”!

Because you know, of course, there’s nothing more manly than a fellow walking around with a couple of skirts hanging off his knees lol ; )

Happy Fathers Day Card Dilemma

From as far back as I can remember, which is just about the time crayons and I moved to a less mutually destructive phase in our relationship, my family has made our own holiday cards. That’s approximatly two decades of birthday/Christmas/mothers day/fathers day/Easter (yes even Easter)/and valentines day cards, all featuring carefully thought out (and witty, if I do say so myself) illustrations and captions. As you can imagine, there are times when one must reach very deep into some very strange places for a new idea. This Fathers Day was one of those times. The result is above, and it’s turned out to be one of my favorites. The caption? When their eyes met…something something…shared magic of fatherhood. Think you can come up with a better one?

Gladiator sandal trend could have shortened Iraq war

Ah yes, my ears are still ringing with the roar of the arena. Russell Crowe, circa 2000 AD, muscles bulging under sweat oiled brown skin, soaks the hot sand of the Colosseum with the blood of his enemies. Sure, we all wanted a piece of him (oops, I mean of the action), but was anyone really thinking “ooooo I’d love a pair of those sandals. What delightful footwear, so stylish and eminently practical.”? While it’s true that the gladiator sandal is the go-to shoe when it comes to protecting your shins from those pesky 5th Avenue gladius weilding dog walkers, Mondrian themed tan lines are not the best way to accessorise your vintage Yves Saint Laurent.

The gladiator sandal trend has followed the classic pattern. Just like when learning a brand new word, the trend always looks awkward and ungainly the first few times you see it in action. But then it slowly worms its way into your vocabulary, and before you know it, you start seeing sentences (and short black jersey dresses) that just wouldn’t look right with anything else. 

For those of us in the “know”, the gladiator has already begun to look (how do I put this?) “un peut passé”. It’s time to move on to other synonyms. It’s time to get in tight with its relatives. It’s time to stop messing around with these metaphors and get down to business.

So then what do we put on our feet? You can go with a more subtle version of the trend, or my favorite alternative: flat (or slight wedge) heel, and a non-superfluous system of dark leather straps featuring a bronze embellished T-strap and a single ankle strap (set low on the ankle to visually maximize leg length). I’d link to a pair, but I’m still hunting for them ; )  

The best part of the gladiator trend is its irony. Thousands of New York (and millions of american)fashionistas have wholeheartedly embraced a trend with decidedly middle eastern roots. The saying “to understand someone, walk a mile in their shoes” has never been more apropo. But it’s too late for the one pair of feet that really matter. If Hillary was still in the race, America might have a chance. Cultural understanding starts from the ground up (heehee possibly literally in this case). But something tells me Barack wouldn’t be too gung-ho about strapping his calves into these puppies. Someone should remind him, or Mccain (if that’s how it pans out), that the greatest warriors in history were, like, so, all over the gladiator trend in their day. The Coloseum’s arena was oval wasn’t it *wink*

(comic source: fashionista.com)

Before you can play the guitar… (part 2)

Need to catch up on part 1? (click here)

My birthday sucker punched me this year. Out of nowhere, blaaamo, right in the gut. What’s a girl to do in the middle of an age crisis? And don’t let the fact I can still get away with using “girl” as my descriptor put a damper on your sympathies. Lest we forget, wrinkles start in our twenties. I’ve given my husband a forehead full of them already, and it’s only a matter of time before he pays me back.

There’s only one place to go when you find yourself in full crisis mode, birthday or otherwise, and that’s to your friendly neighbourhood pawn shop. I was on a mission. I was buying a guitar, right there, right then, no matter what. It was so clear in my mind. I could be one of those chill myspace music chicks. That’s the fantasy, right? Perez would discover me and my talent would explode out of radios all over the world. Within weeks I’d be sitting at the mile long mahogany conference table at Interscope Records, pen poised over my million dollar contract. Ya, so clear in my head. But then the big boss would lean in, just before I could sign, and whisper: “I’m so sorry. You’re just too old for this.” – groan

Put yourself in the shoes of an “ancient”, desperate (yet desperately trying to play it cool), backpack wearing blond, who knows next to nothing about playing guitar, even less about buying one, and nothing at all about pawn shop etiquette. Ready for part 3? 

Blog copyright etiquette

I stumbled across this great post on blog copyright rules. It succinctly explains when and how to use quotation marks, and how to acknowledge your sources. The post also deals with negative blog comments. Which, of course, we here at SavingCymbria never have to be worried about *wink* 

Want Joy? Find your Eric Burger

Even if you’re ‘biting off more than you can chew’, you can’t argue with the pure unadulterated joy of leaping straight into your wildest dreams. Just take a piece of advice from Eric “Badlands”, and keep your eyes open!

My only advice to you…

~Make sure you’re living a life worth washing your hair for~

Barbara Walters comfirms America’s greatest fear

“What (the AIDS ward toddler) knows, in some primal way, is that someone special is about to show up. When (Bill) Clinton finally walks through the door, looking seven feet tall as he often does, the child’s face breaks into a giant grin, expectations met.” – Rebecca Trainster, Elle magazine.

On last night’s The Daily Show, Jon Stewart asked guest Barbara Walters if she could feel a unique ‘presence’ when interviewing the world’s most powerful leaders. Her answer (only slightly paraphrased lol):

Jimmy Carter= Charasmatic intensity

Fidel Castro= Charasmatic strength and humour

George W Bush= Charasmatic personal confidence

Charisma, whatever its source, is a requirement for any successful world leader, especially in this media mad culture. The quote that begins this post demonstrates Bill Clinton’s charisma. His may have been more sensually sourced, but still gave him the larger than life persona crucial to inspiring a nation’s confidence.

Does Obama have “it”? Barbara Walters doesn’t think so.

She told Stewart a heartbreaking story about a conversation she had with Obama after one of his campaign speeches. Walters introduced herself and, after a quick chat, invited him to be a guest on The View.

“I’ve been a guest your program before,” he said

“You have? I’m so sorry I wasn’t there that day,” replied Walters.

“You were,” said Obama.

Remember this one little secret…

“It is astonishing how much you can enjoy almost everything” – Agatha Christie

Yes really, it’s true. Wherever you are, just scroll through your senses until you find the one delivering pleasure. Doesn’t have to be off the map bliss, mind you, but it’s amazing how the simple sensation of a cool breeze on your cheek during your commute or your favourite music in the background of a waiting room can change your perception of reality. This “tunnel vision sensing” takes you out of your brain for a moment and lets you experience life as a blank canvas, with no history or future to colour your judgement.

Important note:“Everything” does not include doing the dishes. They fall in the “almost” category.

Before you can play the guitar… (part 1)

On our last night together before she moved back East, my best writer friend played her guitar for me and sang. I usually find the awkward intimacy of one-on-one recitals unbearable, but this was different. It wasn’t like (when a certain ex) started strumming under the twinkle of his closet mounted strobing disco ball. No, this was definitely something new. She kept her sense of humour (turning Enrique Englacious Hero song into an ode to the sandwich) and her voice was great. She also made the guitar seem so accessible.

“I think you could be good at this,” she said, after teaching me a couple of chords. Her guitar settled itself comfortably in my lap. The posture felt natural, sort of like literal tree-hugging. I’ve played the flute for most of my life, but have always wanted to know if the songs I write and sing while walking are any good. Traffic isn’t always the most harmonious accompanist lol.

My birthday came a few weeks after this rather one sided jam session. Perfect time to put my plan into action…