Take a Look at My Nucleus

I like to live as clutter-free as possible. I am not completely neurotic about it, but I do buy into the whole “your home is a reflection of your inner state and vice versa” theory. I feel more centered and grounded when my home is tidy. Period.

A glaring exception to this pseudo-neurosis is my refrigerator. I am a refrigerator art aficionado. My refrigerator is a magnet for everything from world’s most precious niece & nephew art work to photos to old Far Side cartoons to fortune cookie fortunes to…. well….magnets. And to post my various collections to the refrigerator, I need lots ‘o magnets.

In order for a magnet to make it to my fridge canvas, it needs to serve a dual purpose. It must not only possess exceptional sticking power, but it must also enlighten, entertain, and/or inspire.

To the casual onlooker, these magnets may seem trivial at first. After all, these are just refrigerator magnets. It’s not like they have the power to infiltrate the subconscious and alter one’s life, for goodness sake!

I respectfully disagree.

I present to you Exhibit A:



This is one of my favorite magnets of all time. It was a lucky find when I was visiting Granville Island, Vancouver three summers ago. At the time, I was living in a white-walled-world and driving a silk-green car. The car was lovely, but a completely unreliable money vacuum, so I traded it in for a new reliably red car just a little over two years ago. This past spring, I decided to literally color my white-walled world. My choice of “colour” for the kitchen? Red.

I was not consciously thinking of a refrigerator magnet during these two large expenditures. That would be odd. Yet I can’t help but ponder the coinkydink.

Was this just a coinkydink? Or was this life imitating art?

Colour me intrigued.

The objets d’art that adorn my fridge must equally enlighten, entertain, and/or inspire.

I present to you Exhibit B:
40th Birthday Card from World’s Most Precious Niece



This was quite possibly the best 40th birthday present in the history of 40th birthdays. Who would not be over the moon about receiving these sentiments on a “sensitive” day such as this? Granted, World’s Most Precious Niece is only eight years old, but she is one smart cookie, I assure you. (Her teachers happen to agree with me.)

Now, I should also mention that I have been told by grown adults from every decade that I do look younger than my years. I would like to take this opportunity to publically thank Nana for allowing me to sip from her Portuguese Fountain of Youth Genes. Nana has always looked much younger than her bio age. Her skin has held up remarkably well, and the woman didn’t sprout a significant amount of gray hair until she was 80. My mother never believed her and frequently raided Nana’s bathroom for hair dye. (A product of The Great Depression, Nana would have never parted with the change for a professional dye job.) Mom never found any evidence of artificial colour.

Unlike Nana, the week I turned 40, I plucked 3-5 gray hairs from my head. (I cannot recall the exact number due to post-traumatic hair stress.) I was in such a panic, that I immediately called my hairdresser and scheduled a colour appointment. When I arrived for my appointment last Saturday, KJ began combing through my hair as I shared my tale of aging woe. KJ laughed, told me that she didn’t feel sorry for me, and showed me the one gray hair that she did find. She explained that anyone over the age of 20 has 3-5 gray hairs. She advised me against dying my hair and talked me into a few subtle highlights. KJ confirmed that I am on track to follow in Nana’s hair follicle footsteps.

So…World’s Most Precious Niece is correct in that I have as many gray hairs as your average 24 year old.

Is this just a coincidence? Art imitating life? Life imitating art? Childhood Delusion? Mid-Life Crisis?

I present to you Exhibit C:



I have been a Beatles fan ever since I can remember. In fact, I would venture to say that my love for The Beatles dates back to the womb. Rumour has it that I was named after the song “Michelle”. (Along with the other million or so “Michelle”s born circa 1969 whose mothers were in love with Paul McCartney.)

My parents owned every Beatles album. I believe that I could sing along to most of Lennon and McCartney’s prolific genius by the tender age of 8.

At that age, I also happened to fall madly in love with George Harrison. When other girls had pics of Shawn Cassidy gracing their bedroom walls, I had George’s pic hanging beside my bed. Each night I would gaze up at George as the lights went out for the night. I wasn’t completely tucked in until my parents lined up the shadow of my bedroom door with George’s nose. I could then peacefully drift off into golden slumbers.

George’s teeth looked absolutely amazing in that photo. Unlike the vast majority of his countrymen, George had a fabulous set of chompers.

Exhibit C½:
(Tangent Exhibit that is not technically on my fridge, but historically important enough to display here)



Forget my earlier meanderings on subconscious infiltrations -- my first childhood crush has come back to consciously haunt my adult life. Even though I consider myself to be an open-minded singleton, I cannot date someone who has bad teeth. I am a stickler for a set of straight pearly whites. Bad teeth are a deal-breaker. Especially since I live in a fair city where cosmetic dentists rule the land. I also seem to have a thing for men with longish, shoulder-length hair (which none of my girlfriends seem to understand), although short hair is not a deal-breaker. But I digress…Back to the magnet.



This Beatles magnet has lived front and center on my fridge for nearly three years, and then BOOM! THE BEATLES REMASTERS ARE RELEASED!!!!!

Is this just a coincidence? Or life imitating art? Or art imitating life? Or some sort of New Agey Hocus Pocus? Are our fridges one gigantic vision board? Whatever we post on our fridge will magically magnetize into our lives?

I do believe that what we focus on expands. The way I see it, the fridge is the nucleus of the home, is it not? If you are going to try the whole New Agey Hocus Pocus Woo Woo Voodoo stuff, I suppose a good place to focus would be on your nucleus.

It was never my intention for my fridge to be Woo Woo Voodoo. I’ve been a fridge décor freak long before anyone whispered The Secret. As I mentioned previously, I simply like to be amused and inspired when I hang out in my kitchen. Yet I can’t help but wonder if there is something to this whole nucleus thing….

Or perhaps I spend too much time thinking about weird and offbeat stuff. Here is my fortune cookie fortune from three days ago: