Entry #25 - Spinstervention

Diary of a Spinster Aunt - Entry #25

Dear Diary,
If there were a show called “Spinstervention”, where family and friends showed up at my apartment and took away my cat plates and romance novels and then forced me to sign up for Lavalife, there would probably be a portion of that show where everyone is interviewed about my “problem”. When asked if my descent into spinsterdom was a surprise, I feel that each and every person would have to reply “well…there were signs…”
You see, Diary, even when I was in a relationship, there were hints that my true calling was somewhat more…matronly.
In a new feature I like to call “Signs of Spinsterhood”, I reflect back on things from my past that could be thought of as precursors to female bachelordom. I feel that this may, in the future, be studied in great detail by sociologists and psychologists.

Sign of Spinsterhood #1 Affinity for cruises

Kim and I spent around one month on cruise ships during 2008 and 2009. Cruising on its own is not an overtly spinsterly activity, however when you combine the following activities/choices you can pretty much guarantee yourself a gold medal in the Spinsterhood Olympics.
-Instead of a Caribbean cruise on Carnival, you choose a two-week Alaska cruise on Princess; and by two week Alaska cruise I mean that you find out that it’s cheaper to cruise back down than to fly back down so you simply book two cruises back to back and don’t get off the ship.
-You already own white loafers and sequined, animal-print, sling-back pumps along with nautical themed clothing.
-Getting your picture taken with Captain Sagani is the highlight of your cruise. Nay, your LIFE.
-You choose to leave your manfriend at home because you are fairly certain he’ll bring down your shuffle board average.
- You participate in pictionary, trivia, and a variety of other games. You win most of them and have key chains and tote bags to prove it.
-You choose to enjoy the splendour and majesty that is the Margerie glacier with a beverage in hand and from the comfort of the hot tub.
- Having your picture taken with ridiculous Alaskan themed mascots excites you. A lot.

Entry #24 - Spinster Scholars

Diary of a Spinster Aunt - Entry #24
Dear Diary,
The Goddess of Spinsterhood shines upon me! For many months now, Spinster Mansion has been sadly bookshelfless. When entering the living room I’m sure many people presumed they’d entered the study of a well-read scholar, for the books were piled high on every available surface. Upon closer inspection of course, they might wonder why a scholar would require so many romance novels. Upon even closer inspection, however, they would realize that every single novel is of the historical romance genre, and thus it would become clear: historical scholars. Obviously.
Anyway, I finally came across the perfect bookshelf; small enough to carry up the steep and uneven staircases leading up to the mansion without the aid of a man, and yet large enough to hold our rapidly expanding collection of literature. No longer will our assortment of fine quality fiction be strewn upon every surface. Instead, we can proudly display our shared penchants for nineteenth century men on our fancy, three-tiered, pressboard bookcase . Perhaps we can even split up the shelves according to our interests - Kim’s shelf will be filled with the novels containing tall, strapping, handsome, rugged highlanders in kilts; whereas mine will contain the stories featuring tall, strapping, handsome, yet cold and aloof English viscounts. Read into that what you will.
In the end though, in fiction and in life, we aren’t overly discerning. Are there bodices ripped off? We’ll take it!

Entry #23 - Leisure Wear Dilemma

Diary of a Spinster Aunt - Entry #23

Life is full of tough decisions, Diary. It seems that as of late many of my friends are making such tough decisions as princess or brilliant cut diamonds? White gold or platinum? Spring or Summer? Empire waisted dress or strapless dress? White or ivory?

The spinster lifestyle is full of equally tough decisions: Long-haired cats or short-haired cats? Kleenex with or without lotion? Musk or Floral? BBC Pride and Prejudice or Keira Knightly Pride and Prejudice? Highlander historical romance novel or Regency historical romance novel? No decision, however, has thrown us into such turmoil, no question sparked such heated debate as the age-old question every spinster must face: caftan or muumuu?
We spinsters do not take our leisure-wear lightly. When a large percentage of your time is spent lounging about the house, drinking tea and reading filthy romance novels, the question of appropriate attire becomes paramount. One evening I was admiring Kim’s new purple “housedress” and expressing an interest in acquiring one of my own when the discussion of caftan vs. muumuu arose. It became apparent quite quickly that our understanding of what defined a caftan versus a muumuu was somewhat ambiguous. We knew that a muumuu is originally Hawaiian and a caftan is middle eastern, but beyond that things were a little bit fuzzy. We “consulted the Googles via the interwebs” and concluded that the terms have become somewhat interchangeable in North American society. The interwebs also agrees that it is a truth universally acknowledged that both muumuus and caftans are heavily favoured by morbidly obese Americans…and now, by two red-headed Canadian spinsters.
　

Entry #22 - Bachelor Uncle Sojourn

Diary of a Spinster Aunt Entry #22

Dear Diary, I was lucky enough to have my younger brother, Adam, come and visit me here in Victoria for a day of Spinster Aunt & Bachelor Uncle fun. Adam and I share many things in common, such as:
-compulsive tea drinking
-talking in silly (and often inappropriate) voices
-wearing skinny jeans in size 27
-“handsome” features
-a shared understanding that our older sister Amy’s children are so disgustingly adorable that any children produced by us would look like Quasimodo in comparison.
-a deep and abiding love of Sara P (non-sexual on my part),  George Carlin (may he rest in peace), and manicures.
That's right, Diary, no one puts the Man in Manicure like my little brother. NO ONE. So, after a quick trip to the new Super Walmart to pick up cat litter for Gus and some new floral-scented laundry detergent for me(see Murder Basement Resolution), Adam and I headed over to the spa to see my sister-in-spinsterhood, Kate, for a Man-icure. Long story short, Diary, Adam now has the softest hands in the world and Kate has officially ordered the first commissioned piece from the Spinster Art Gallery. Kim hopes to have this next masterpiece completed by the end of January.

Entry #21 - Murder Basement Resolution

Diary of a Spinster Aunt - Entry #21
Dear Diary,
   Even though I have lived here at Spinster Mansion since September,  I have yet to use the laundry facilities provided within the building. As a matter of fact, I avoid the "Murder Basement" like men have avoided committing to me, with a steadfastness you can't help but admire begrudgingly.  I have been down there only one time in four months, and that was to drop off our rent money through the random slot in the unmarked door in the corner. The Murder Basement is as scary as it sounds, including steep neck-breaking stairs, bare bulbs with pull strings, uneven cement floors with pipes coming out, random stacks of paint cans (because according to our landlord Wally, paint fixes EVERYTHING), an unnecessary number of unlit corridors with sharp corners, and a door to the outside that is padlocked closed. Every time Kim goes down there, she prefaces her departure with "If I'm not back in ten minutes, call the police". If all these things aren't enough to make someone want to avoid going down there, there is also the fact that there is only one washer and one dryer for 14 apartments, so you often can't even use the machine or you have to touch someone else's laundry in order to free one up (sick). That being said, it is not fair to constantly drag my laundry to my friends' homes, thus, in 2011 I shall get a roll of loonies and a roll of quarters and I shall venture forth, down into the pit of despair, and do my laundry like a normal spinster.