Ok Viola

Hobbies, Wearables, and Viral Products.

[okayviola]

I recently read this article on the five elements of a sincere apology and it felt…incomplete. Like it was missing one step.

Curious about Five Elements Of An Apology? Read our article to learn more.

According to Taylor Counseling Group, the elements of a sincere apology are:

1. Say you’re sorry.

2. Explain what went wrong.

3. Acknowledge your responsibility

4. Apologize

5. Offer of repair

6. Request for forgiveness.

Let’s ignore for a moment that there are 6 points in a 5-step system, since at least 4 of them can be easily translated to: say you’re sorry, and focus on what’s wrong with this apology.

The follow-through. I’m used to a different set of rules, a one-sentence mantra my entire family would go with automatically when you tried to apologize:

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry unless you plan to change the behaviour”.

Our version of an apology was, “I will never do that again.” It’s more important to DO “I’m sorry” than to say it.

My 5 steps to a proper apology would probably look more like this.

1. Feel sorry.

2. Try to find a way to fix it.

3. Promise not to do it again.

4. Don’t do it again.

5. Keep not doing it.

[okayviola]

I’m back with more recycling projects, and a sneak peek at this week’s video. While I was off finding great products for the online shop, I ran into this series of ADORABLE books!

They’re all about Upcycling the things that we all have sitting around. I mean, unless all of your socks match and you’ve never seen the inside of an empty cereal box.

I can’t wait for this new shipment to arrive, because I’m going to test every one of these projects! Which one would you rather upcycle: cereal boxes, egg cartons, or socks?

Check out all the books at www.okviola.com!

[okayviola]

This week I decided to do something a little different. I’m always interested in helping young people to engage with the fashion world in a healthy way. To me, fashion is about creating an art piece that is all your own. Something uniquely “you”.

It started when I was a kid. I’d see something at the thrift store I didn’t like made out of a fabric I DID like, lay down my lunch money, and buy that intensely recyclable fabric. More than half my clothes were altered or hand made by the time I was in 10th grade, and I loved them.

The thing about making your own clothes is that even if they don’t turn out perfect, the work and time you spent on them never fades. Love is stitched into the seams. Excitement burns on the fabric. I want everyone to know how that feels: working hard on something and loving it at the end of the day.

I hope we’ve all felt that way at some time or another.

This week’s video is about my zentangle tee. We’re selling these tees, and a variety of fabric markers, at okviola.com to directly benefit Sick Kids organizations. For every t-shirt we sell, we’ll be donating one to a kid in hospital.

Check out the video to see how mine turned out!

[okayviola]

#outfitideas for #newyear2021 #ootd #partywear #fashion #shorts #shortsbeta #whattowear #canadian

#outfitideas for #newyear2021 #ootd #partywear #fashion #shorts #shortsbeta #whattowear #canadian

[okayviola]

[DIY] “Plastering” my walls with new room decor！ (video)

[okayviola]

Betty White passed away just before the end of 2021, and it was truly the end of an Era. Betty was one of the women who defined what makes me who I am. She maintained her femininity, her sense of humour, and her good graces while rising to the top of an industry that was, at the time, heavily resistant to women. She became, in the actual 1950’s, the first woman to have creative control of a TV show that had female executives in both key positions.

Her signature style was (and is) iconic. She reminds me of actresses like Dolly Parton and Sigourney Weaver who never sacrificed their own sense of style to play a role, and who moved Hollywood forward in so many positive ways.

I don’t believe in mourning a death, but in paying tribute to a life. To that end, today’s post will be about Betty White’s iconic style. At the end of the week, I’ll be posting a video on my YouTube channel stealing all my fave fits.

There were some styles I just couldn’t recreate in time, and they’ll only be on the blog. Can you guess which ones I’ll recreate, and which I couldn’t find in my closet?

Find out if you’re right, right here:

OK VIOLA

Topical Vlog. Better than ointment. Apply weekly.

My favourite look of the 1950’s was Betty’s glammed up Western style. She paired a shimmering red lip with a red plaid shirt and dark coloured jeans. I’ve always loved Western styles of the fifties and sixties because they were so free and practical at a time when most women and girls were expected to wear dresses and skirts on a daily basis. In her Western outfit, her signature doe-eyed makeup style wasn’t in evidence yet…I wonder when she got it?

Betty was an animal lover who often posed with her two dogs and loved visiting farms. A wonderful photo of her in a satin shirt holding a little baby sheep truly captures her essence. She was always smiling, but the little fuzz bucket in her arms that day put a particular gleam in her eye and an extra dent in her dimples.

The satin blouse is such an iconic piece. Is there any woman who doesn’t have one, somewhere in her closet? It’s an easy way to update an ordinary top, and the sheen adds light to your face without relying on jewellery. Always the style icon, Betty knew earrings would be too much with this blouse, and left her lobes bare. She often wore a pared-down look, preferring one or two small, well chosen accessories to full Hollywood glam.

I don’t think there’s anything more fun about the late fifties and early sixties than sailor style outfits. I mean, you really can’t beat stripes. When I first saw photos of Betty seemingly on a boat in a red-and-white striped top, I loved it as a human being and a Canadian. I pictured the top with a pair of high-waisted sailor style pedal pushers, short shorts or an ankle pant. But Betty gave us so much more.

It was actually a flared dress with a cupcake top and a slim little belt. I truly love the cut of flared dresses from that era, because they tended to be handmade by a seamstress. To that end, they had a pleat straight down the front instead of a time-saving bust dart. I love the front panel styling because it leaves the neckline lose and gives any top a glam, secure feel.

We use a lot of stretch fabric these days, which is great for an easy one size works on anyone fit but sacrifices a lot in terms of style. I long for the days when clothes didn’t reveal every lump, bump and wrinkle. When they fit the same way on just about anyone.

Betty paired the red and white striped dress with a statement triple string of pearls, a glittering tennis bracelet, and a bold, red lip. Classic Betty. This is how I picture her leaving us. Sailing away in a beautiful dress and a glittering bracelet, big smile on her face, throwing a wink over her shoulder and waving goodbye.

Oh my gosh I’m tearing up, and we still have sixty or so years to get through!

From the 1960’s until the 80’s (when he passed), Betty was married to gameshow host Allan Ludden. I still didn’t exist yet, but I have a favorite ship photo of the two of them. It reminds me of a photo of my parents on a trip to various historical monuments. Mom in her green wool coat and dad in his banana republic shacket and Tilley’s hat.

Banana republic wasn’t around yet, I don’t think, when the photo of Betty and Allan was taken. I wonder where he got this nifty leisure suit!

I live for a great linen pantsuit and this pastel mint green, which brings me to my next iconic Betty moment: a summer photo that shows her lounging in a matching summer suit.

In typical Betty fashion, she elevates an outfit that could have been pretty blah (matching pastel suit, white collared blouse) with a shimmering red lip and matching, candy apple red shoes. Oh. My. Wow. Those shoes are everything!

There’s something about a neutral fit with an absolutely fantastic shoe, isn’t there? I can’t wait to do another shoe video when it (finally) stops snowing. Before you go shopping, definitely check out my shoe video here:

Dem red shoes doe!

I never had the chance to thank Betty White in person for the impact she had on my life. A person’s time, both in a day and on earth, is limited. But my favourite photo of Betty (and her mother) shows them sitting on the couch trying to answer all of her fan mail. The takeaway for me is that people matter, they deserve our commitment and consideration. Especially the ones who matter most: our close friends and families. Rest In Peace, Betty White!

Before I sign off on this blog, here are a few more of my favourite iconic Betty styles. I can only aspire to be this cool!

[okayviola]

November 11, 2021

We found wing back chairs today. Someone gave them to us, and we had to get them home. At first, we thought about getting a taxi. The chairs were by the side of the road, in front of an office. They were so comfortable that we sat in them and thought it over for a while.

We held court like a couple of sirs and listened to an old man playing music on a recorder. It was loud and out of tune, and made me think of ravens. How they sing.

Halfway through calling the taxi, we decided to walk instead. Strap the chairs to our backs, perhaps. Or, since we’ve both been known to portage a canoe, carry them on our heads.

Mike’s head sunk into the seat, and he said, “these will be comfy when we get them home”. As for me, I was just glad they were clean.

I’m not as strong as him, so my head sunk into a corner. It was a 30 minute walk, and we laughed the entire way. Especially when we caught sight of our shadows. At one point, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t see.

Just a couple of walking chairs on legs.

With the chairs, the room is finally starting to come together. I can’t wait to start painting the walls! It’s going to be the perfect library space. At least, the perfect space for us.

[okayviola]

November 10th

We’re decorating the front room, making a small library lounge. A space to read, knit. A space with no screens.

Today we had the bookshelf delivered

[okayviola]

November 9th

My period came full on today. It was extremely painful. I tried to get some exercise. I hope it’s over soon. Ever since my surgery, it hurts so much. I’m allowed to get an elective hysterectomy but that would bring on instant menopause. I don’t know what that means so I bought a book on menopause.

It would be nice if they spoke plainly about this stuff. That say everything is “hormonal” and “emotional” with periods. The truth is I’m tired and I’m an asshole because it hurts. I don’t think I’m alone in acting this way, when I’m in pain.

[okayviola]

November 8th

I’m tired of being blamed for other people’s problems.

[okayviola]

November 7th

I started watching a new show called Upload. It’s about a near future society where, instead of dying, you can have your consciousness uploaded to the cloud. The main characters are a girl who works as an “angel” (an admin with the upload company) and the upload guy she falls in love with.

He’s supposed to be a perfect guy who anyone would fall in love with. I don’t like the character. I think he’s full of himself and everyone else is full of him. There are too many guys like that.

[okayviola]

November 6th

So many things happened today. I found out who said “The Lunatics are running the asylum” first (Richard Rowland, head of Metro pictures corp)

The Lunatics Have Taken Charge of the Asylum – Quote Investigator

I don’t think he has as much at stake as I do, but the fact remains. I’ve been looking up idiomatic expressions, I’m not sure why. Something about a short walk off a long pier inspired me to go see one.

There’s no origin for that quote, but it’s in back to the future 2. I think it’s just one of those things people said in the 1980’s, part of a more innocent hive mind that existed before cell phones.

The pier was looking great.

They re-built the Pier and they’re building more condos. The beach is about half the size now, less than half, and most of it’s fenced off where they built the first set of condos. So you can watch angry rich people, all of them blondes, glare through the fence and snark that this is not what they paid for with workers’ low wages and blood.

The other side is poor people, young, old, slim and obese (but not surgically altered) crowded into a quarter the space they had before, half the bricks adorned with graffiti that appears faster than new bricks or piers or clean water. They don’t have as much time or energy to waste on anger but there are more of them, so they split the work and it weighs the same.

I walked the pier from start to finish, and that’s 40 minutes of white tennis shoes that slap the teetering ground, lined on one side (but not both) with rocks. The pier extends long into the water but there’s no rail. Safety equipment (those orange floating donuts and very long sticks) is posted on both sides but there’s no lifeguard. There’s never been a lifeguard because there’s no drownings.

That I know of.

My head itches, I don’t know why. Probably just another symptom of autoimmune. It keeps bleeding. I hope not to end up looking at this, one day, as an overlooked symptom like all the others.

I’m falling asleep writing this. It’s been a long day. A short walk off a long pier would have been easier and ended in a relaxing (if freezing) swim. Yet here we are. The end of the pier.

I’m going to sleep now.

[okayviola]

November 5th

How could I have signed up for something and misplaced the paperwork? The money comes out of my account for pet insurance every month, yet I can’t use it. If I had just put that money away instead, I’d have plenty now. Money sitting with an insurance company isn’t worth much. Somehow, I thought it would be better.

*sigh*

I messed up my finances again. People are always yelling at me for making poor financial decisions. They’re right, but I don’t see them making suggestions.

[okayviola]

November 4th

I was very excited last night. So excited that I couldn’t sleep. My bike was stolen four years ago, and I’ve never gotten over it enough to buy a new one. Mike has tried to help. He’s brought home project bikes and stored them in the shed. Maybe if I had them to work on…but they’ve sat there. I didn’t want to work on them. I didn’t want to have another bike just so it could get stolen. It felt disheartening that nobody seemed to care.

Honestly, I loved that bike.

After it was gone, I started filling my memories with sour grapes, as you do, instead of processing your feelings.

The seat was too small, it had too many gears. I couldn’t even use it to buy groceries with that tiiiiny little basket.

I got an idea in my head of the perfect bicycle: a touring bike with 7 or less gears, a shelf and saddle bags along with that comfy seat. And it would have seriously stylish style. One of those bikes that seems to ride around by itself in mid-afternoon sunbeams, eating bread dipped in wine and picking flowers…if you believe the photographers.

Is this forced perspective or is this a child’s bike with a big bottle of wine in it? No time.

Of course, every bike like THAT cost over $500. And anyway, someone would steal it.

Yesterday, I found the bike I have been dreaming about for years, the CCM Munich Mens City bike, on sale at Canadian Tire for half price. Hear my words: if it is 2am and you see something you need but can’t afford on sale at Canadian Tire, just buy it. Their sales come down faster than my hopes and expectations for a fulfilling life did 10 seconds after University graduation.

I bought an alarm and some accessories for it on Amazon. It now lives in my living room, like my neighbour’s goat that should have been in the barn but it preferred the house. Man, I miss living in the country.

[okayviola]

Circular Lies like Bicycle Tires

The neighbour asked if she thought whoever stole it might have needed it more.

She asked if the neighbour saw a car in her driveway. Was it invisible? This imagined Wonder Woman car built of invisibility and crystal, where she hid to go to work, wrapped tight and warm?

With a house that size, she ought to own a car. Everyone owned a car. It was easy, they were cheap.

She sat down rolling sweet tea on her tongue like generous words handed out by no-one and remembered. There, with her eyes closed and Sun beaming his best smile onto the warming boards of the wooden porch.

She’d called him Silver. When she rode, he became like a paint horse, mostly white. When she went down a hill she imagined his barely contained hard muscles taught and strong, running fast. When she popped a wheelie, he reared up and screamed the loudest whinny: in her mind, a paint horse. In her world, a cheap bike.

A ghost.

Her paint horse loved meandering through the woods on cycle-trails and so did she. Together, they half-stripped a tree of willow bark and lashed it together while telling stories. They lashed it to the handlebars and went home slowly, filling it with flowers. Where was her basket now? Probably broken. Not filled with flowers.

She sewed saddle bags from scrap fabric and attached them to his frame with little buckles and belts. They jingled sometimes with laundry and coins: others, they were hard and corner-heavy with library books. On weekends, they took her 35 minutes to the recreation center to go swimming.

There was a closet pool, but it was at the hotel and cost $10 a day. The recreation pool cost $3.50 a day. It was worth a 30 minute ride to get 3 swims for the price of one.

That way, she could go 3 days a week, and exercise without putting pressure on her work-swollen feet. They bled sometimes, from standing too long, and then she couldn’t go.

But she could always count on Silver. Her beautiful, reliable paint horse. Every nick, every ding of him remembered in her memories and her quietest parts. The ones beyond language, that only felt. Only loved.

“So? Someone stole your bike. You can just get another one. Have you ever thought they might have needed it more than you?”

Selfish. Snob. Cunt. All she ever did was shun the needy. All she did was ruin their lives by wanting something for herself.

The neighbours all had cars and nobody had stolen their bikes.

The neighbours all had carriages and nobody had stolen their horses.

Sometimes she put on black clothes and red lipstick, slicked her hair back like a spy’s, and wore dark shades. She went out in the neighbourhood at night, and kicked their tires.

There wasn’t much else to do anymore.

[okayviola]

I don’t have the heart to tell her my bowl is empty…

[okayviola]

They light the candles deeply in the dark. Their hearts are full of men and vomit up waxy lengths of string dripping with oils, chanting incantations worthy of the grimoire of any witch.

Old before their time, the ones with hearts too open to the possibility of nothingness, best friends with those who steal glances only at their own dicks. Sleepless nights spent pining over love. As if it’s something we possess: like a car, a television set. Your favourite pants. Bodies scrambling in the dark.

The porch light’s always on, Love can let himself in. Their friendships crumble and death sleeps moments from the porch. Their parents mutter love baths in the dark.

“I want what they have”, Julia says, and she does. But she’s mistaken circumstance for love.