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and visions of sugar plums ...

Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Don't know exactly why ... may have been that my playlist shuffled and sweet, young, angelic looking Kalan Porter singing "Beauty" filled my ears (definition of sweet, young, angelic = longish, curlish blonde hair, blue eyes and barely past his teens) ... and "whoosh" I was back at high school ...

I can see the scratched, dinged and dented grey lockers lining the walls ... the checkered linoleum floors ... the windows above the cafeteria covered in fingerprints, circles of fogged breath ... see the principal shuffling her papers on her desk (wonder if she was really this busy or just moving papers to give the illusion to engrain upon young minds the picture of authority) ... the halls are filled with bell-bottoms, tight jeans, shaggy hair ... the nerds, the cool ones, those that cross-over the clique lines, the school hero, Roy and his queen, Nicole ... the tramps, the scamps, the druggies, froggies, the lost, the found ... the pretenders, the contenders, the offenders ...

the smell of pen, papers, book bags, rotting lunches in corners of crowded lockers, laughter, fear, intolerance, indifference, yearnings of acceptance ... the smell of after gym sweat, pre-exam nerves and jitters, flirtations and ignorations ...

so what am I doing in the hallways of Saguenay Valley High School? ... a trip through time, standing there ... a ghostlike form with students walking through me around me ... and I spot him ... the memory that brought me here today ...

will he look the same through these time-jaded, wiser, more experienced eyes?

tall and lanky ... blue jeans and jean jacket ... not too old, nor too new ... and yet not faded except maybe at the seams which only a dozen washings could fashion ... a dark blue t-shirt beneath the unbuttoned buttons of the jacket ... a blonde head above the crowd ... the bluest of eyes shielded beneath the longest of lashes ... pale but not sickly ... quiet, aloof, apart ... beyond it all ...

not arrogant ... not really there ... somewhere else ... dreamy but not in a dreamy kind of way that reached the eyes ...

David Vick ... where are you now? ... where were you then?

his brother the superhero of the school ... the coolest of the cool ... the one who walked hand in hand with the queen .... queens ...

and David ... somewhat shadowed ... not wanting to be found ... a silly grin upon his face at times, struggling for passing grades ... not always the smartest, never the loudest, never in any crowd but part of all ...

a shadow .. that flitted here and there ...

he was so cute ... so tall ... so blonde .. so beautiful ... and so unattainable, so unreachable ...

I was drawn like a moth to a flame ... and played games in circles and spirals ... hey look at me, talk to me, touch me, be something, say something ...

I visited him in at his residence (which was at a college residence building ... I think his parents were far away and apart and he'd been placed here ... he didn't protest, didn't contest, just was ...) in the summer ... laughed and giggled ... walked and talked (of what I'm not sure) ... he knocked at my door 45 miles away and we spent time ... I met his grandmother ... and his mother showed up at his brother's graduation wearing the same dress as Carolyn, a graduate ... his father was big and large and larger than life ...

... and he had a string of mes ... others who were drawn to him in the same way ... and we all cajoled and teased and flitted and fluttered ... but I wonder now ...

his grin used to brighten a hallway, a moment ... a span of time ... I can feel his arms around me when we slow danced as friends at one of those friday night dances ...

... stealing glances ...

innuendos, teen age hearts and dramas and dioramas ...

where did you go? what did you do? who won your heart? who are you?

... do you ever give a thought to us ... those butterflies who danced in your cool flames ... do you ever wonder where, how, why, what are they doing now?

and how is that you don't even show up in a google search ... your brother does as does Carolyn, and Cheryl and Kathy and Wendy ... and me ...

and I guess all I really want to know ... is what did you finally decide to become?

because all that these older eyes have seen while looking back is that those eyes of yours simply mirrored ... certainly didn't let any of us in ... neither kind nor mean nor loving nor hateful ... simply indifferent ... amused at the flitterings and twitterings ...

a cool pale shadow that had yet to decide what it wanted to be. As I said ... what did you choose to be?

Catch Up

Monday, September 29, 2008
If days had titles ... that would be today's.

Catch up with Melanie who spent the last three days in New York City ... visiting the Museum of Modern Art, the Guggenheim, sitting in the middle of Time Square, walking the Brooklyn Bridge with her friend, Amy ... a break from everyday life to replenish

Catch up with Maija who said good morning and asked if Ginga would cut her hair

Catch up with Nicole who has story upon story ... of French baguettes, professors and Russian ex-patriates and stolen kisses and soap-opera-like dramas because humans so prefer lies to truth

Catch up with Jonathan who just wanted to be around today ... washed Peanut Butter who'd decided that a roll in some doggie doodoo would be a fine thing to do on a chilly fallish afternoon ... ate macaroons and banana chips (now there's a combo) while exchanging witticisms and folded clothes while making wagers on the average number of folds

Catch up with Kyla who's working her first night shift ever and is a little hesitant ... guess she's still somewhat afraid of the dark ... and we stole an hour out of the day and haunted the aisles of Value Village looking for good Halloween costume ideas

Catch up with work ... working on a stunning feasibility report that will blow socks off and have them pushing and shoving in the aisles to sign up ... prepare for the World Leisure Congress in Quebec City and debate whether to stay at mom's or not

Catch up with laundry ... it breeds over night I swear

Catch up with Dave who's finally feeling better ... and eating regular food again and humming off tune ... going over the coming week's have to's and should's and commitments and bills and things

Catch up with my thoughts ... and the story that is unfolding in my head

dreams ...

Sunday, September 28, 2008
and my adorable one ... who wants to be an actress and a star and a singer ... and entertain the world ...
my adorable one ... who writes songs in her mind when she's falling asleep and sings them to herself and all who will listen ...
my adorable one ... who doesn't quite fit in ... who won't fight ... gets bullied and bitten and simply turns the other cheek and extends another olive branch from her never-ending supply ...

that adorable one ... who sang at a shopping mall in front of thousands of pairs of eyes ... accapella mind you, because her music couldn't be read by the computer there ... with more bravery and courage and guts and passion than those who could maybe sing better or clearer but not purer ...

that adorable one ... who still believes in dreams and wishing on stars and never quitting and knowing that anything is possible if you want it enough, if you work hard enough, if you try hard enough ...

that adorable one ... walked into an open call audition yesterday with 1,000 (yes 1,000) others ... and admired the beautiful ones, the talented ones, the perfect and the not so perfect ones ...

and calmed her shivers and shakes ... and took a deep breath ... and presented herself ... not someone else ... "just me" - she said ...

and today the call came ...

and now there is three ... and my adorable one is one of those ...


And she may not be the one chosen ... but she was chosen anyway. The development contract is waiting for us ... no fee!! I'm taken aback ... having believed that perhaps I saw her through biased eyes and that others could not see what I saw ...

Someone did ... and she's so happy ... and therefore so am I.

Pink Louie ...

Friday, September 26, 2008
don't know why he called them that - Pink Louie. (he being Bronislaus, or Jaja, as the kids and I called him ... father of John ... grand-father to the brood)

Pink Louie was none other than Pink Floyd ... the Pink Floyd of floating pigs, another brick on the wall and the dark side of the moon ...

It would make me laugh, not always nicely, not always politely ... at the repeated slips of an aging man. At first I never noticed anything but the incorrect name ... over time I noted the harsher tone, the spitting out of the words as though the mere taste of them was nasty ... and only near the end did I notice the pause, the catching of his breath before the harsh spit sounds of Pink Louie.

Assumptions ... I assumed he preferred the polkas that played on that radio station from Franconia Notch on Sunday mornings to the strident, plaintiff sounds of youth. I assumed that he held the same disdain for all bands that played "that ungodly noise" that wasn't music to his ears ... I assumed it was an age thing.

John was my husband ... a kind, most intelligent, happy man ... a gc (that's general contractor for those who aren't up on their abbreviations) ... an MIT drop-out ... a Lacoste Polo shirt and Levi 501 jeans wearing kind of man. He built things ... beautiful homes, full of windows and skylights. He loved clams and spaghetti. He loved the children ... with hugs, by teaching, by playing, by laughing. We fished, we boated, we ice-fished, we skated, we built things, we painted rocks ... you get the picture I'm sure ...

Something happened ... I'm not quite sure what ... but Pink Louie started playing in his black Ford pick-up truck ... Dark Side of the Moon ... and then The Wall. The music started following him into the house, onto the boat ... Pink Louie permeated his life ... and his conversations were soon peppered with facts about Roger Waters ...

At first it was fine ... and then it was not ... and my stomach knotted and my mind knotted as they tried to pinpoint from where the unease sprang from ...

John's mind split open ... spiders and snakes ... terrors in dreams ... hospitalization, institutions and meds ...

It was never the same again ... he was but a shadow of himself ... tuned in to Pink Floyd's deeper meanings that were meant just for him ...

Bronislaus (Jaja) had heard it coming ...

We started another life the kids and I ... and then another ... and John? Well John stayed behind in a world of walls and flying pigs and the dark side of the moon ... and we left Pink Louie behind.

I used to love Pink Floyd ... after John not so much ... but I could still quiet my anxiety and enjoy if a song or two found themselves drifting to my ears. I never consciously chose to listen (I actually rid myself of each and every album, cassette and CD that I owned) ...

Pink Louie ... Pink Floyd simply became another brick in the wall of my life story ...

until ...

the strains of "another brick on the wall" echoed through the house ... seeping through the floorboards assaulting my ears. The hair stood up on the nape of my neck, goose bumps the size of ostrich eggs rose on my arms as I sat up straight in bed in one staccato movement ...

here? how? who?

but I knew ... Jonathan ... son of John ... my gentle, confused, so intelligent, quiet J ... listening to Pink (spit) Louie ...

History ...

History ...
as defined:
the aggregate of past events; "a critical time in the school's history"
a record or narrative description of past events; "a history of France";

the discipline that records and interprets past events involving human beings; "he teaches Medieval history"; "history takes the long view"
the continuum of events occurring in succession leading from the past to the present and even into the future; "all of human history"
all that is remembered of the past as preserved in writing; a body of knowledge; "the dawn of recorded history"; "from the beginning of history"


History ... from Erik the Red, Alexander the Great, through Henry VIII and John Lennon ...
and as well Queen Isabella, the two Boleyns, through Marilyn Monroe and Margaret Thatcher...

His Story ... his tory ... history ... the story of the events that preceded our arrival ... a predominantly male view point, as more males could read and write and scribe and record for all posterity ...

Makes sense that it's not herstory ... because hers was more often than not not to tell ...

Daily Horoscope

Thursday, September 25, 2008
You're not at all sure of what's going on -- and even more unsure about wanting to know the truth. This is a time of confusion, but if you refuse to be stressed about it, the truth of the matter will come to you. In the meantime, keep a journal -- and keep wondering ...
... today's predictions ...

Wordless Wednesday

Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Shadows

The Thirteenth Tale


Stayed up far too late last night as I was swept away within the pages of the latest book that I'm reading - The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. A story so well written that when I open its covers, it beckons me to jump right in and join the cast of characters at Angelfield ...
Its a book about the love of books and reading and magical storytelling about a storyteller ... could it get any better? Though I haven't finished yet ... I have another evening's worth of getting to know Margaret and Vida ... I'm at that point where I'm tempted to slow my pace so that the adventure doesn't end ... know what I mean?

Ants in my pants ...

Tuesday, September 23, 2008
I'm antsy ... like bits of my soul got infected by poison ivy and I just can't get at the itch. Sleep has not come easily since Saturday ... I lay there not so much thinking as mulling, twisting and turning this way and that ...

Not quite sure what's eating at me ... for sure I'm missing Nicole who was accosted by (and I quote) an unemployed, married, bicycle-riding Turkish man in a cafe yesterday ... he professed his undying love, tried to grab some non-Turkish delights and proceeded to spook her silly by following her to the bus stop. And here I am across the ocean, unable to really put her mind at ease ... sure I typed the necessary precautionary messages ... and yet I could sense her tension, her uneasiness. It seems what troubled her the most was the dozen or so people who watched unperturbed as she raised her voice and pushed the man forcibly from her ...

... and then maybe I'm fretting over Kyla who lives in her own version of life ... a rather simple bubble of fun and games ... chasing boyfriends and daydreams ... and then she wants to talk about moving out. So Kyla how much money have you put away? I ask ... and that look rolls over her face ... the look that answers back ... why nothing ...

or perhaps it's the fact that none of us have heard from Will in a month or so ...

or again it could be all about J ... CAMH is pushing for a release ... we can't find accomodation that is suitable ... so he may be returning home. That's not a terrible thing but I keep wondering if it's simply a step backwards. Got a meeting at 11 AM to talk with his treatment staff ... that's always a bucket full of laughs ...

... and then there's work ... no direct supervisor in place ... set adrift to do my own thing within the most political of any nonprofit I've ever worked for ... maybe it's time to look for another contract ...

... and Dave ... still so sad ... lost ... his brother Mike is here almost everyday ... just as sad, just as lost ...

... or could it be the inner travels and diggings I've found myself doing ... in search of truth whatever that may be ...

couldn't be ...

Slights and such ...

Monday, September 22, 2008
Though some may say I have the hide of a rhinoseros ... (or is that the hide of an elephant?) ... I do still get upset by the slights and insults that are sometimes so cavalierly flung from people's lips without thought nor care given ...

On some days (like today) ... the insensitivity and the "get over it" attitudes just make me want to scream ...

Me first ... the entire world seems to scream ... and I just want to scream back "fine ... but don't trample me on your way through" ...

I'm pretty flexible and rubbery ... much like Pokey or Gumby ... and can bounce back as quickly as I was flattened ...

But I can't help but wish for a less "me centred" world ... where life and importance and decisions were not always weighed by what it can do for me ...

Where do the days go?

Saturday, September 20, 2008
Sometimes it's like the world speeds up ... and "poof" it's like two days vanished in the space of one. It's that kind of speeding up that has me regretting getting older. When I was younger I was certain that time must get slower for old folks (you know those in their "thirties" !! ) because heck they were slower, took their time doing things, dawdled ...

While pondering time ... I seem to remember (was it Einstein?) ... reading that time is not an absolute linear constant. Never having been the most scientific of minds, does that mean time is not uniform? Is it possible that on days that speed by, time ... seconds actually were passing faster? And consequently, on those loooong days that never seem to end ... are the seconds actually longer ... say two seconds in length?

We'd never really be able to know it, would we? Because we all experience time in the same way ... hmmm or do we? Can time for me slow down while you're experiencing a surge? Or fast-forward two days ahead while your days have been just as they should be?

That's what my brain is playing with this morning (any wonder I have a slight head-ache?)


So ... I'd not have minded the days flying by I guess if I'd been doing something fabulous ... but my last two days were simply filled getting reports ready for my Friday lunch meeting with BFA (who is not as much a BFA as I thought) ... and yesterday just disappeared into the haze with the above noted meeting, getting lured into watching the Ryder Cup and chatting with my sister-in-law Carol for six hours or so on the back deck.

Try as I might to be organized and follow the Seven Principles of Highly Effective People or whatever that "must read" from the 90's was ... (you know, touch every piece of paper only once ... translated into 2000-techno-world ... probably means ... write your notes immediately into the computer) ... I still scribble everything on notepads (ahhh ... how I love big yellow legal pads of paper ... fresh ... never been written upon ... but I've also taken a liking to smaller ringed notebooks ... 6 X 9 but I digress) ... so when I had to prepare reports for BFA three weeks earlier than expected ... I had to round up all those notepads and notebooks (yup there's more than one) and type everything into some kind of business appropriate form.

Now if that wasnt' bad enough ... I tend to write briefly and concisely ... but BFA loves "consultant speak" ... big four-syllabled words that confuse the reader and say thirteen things at once. Guess it's how consultants can ensure that they've said something that agrees with everyone at the board room table ... I haven't perfected that art yet ...

I think it was 3 AM when I finally tore myself away from the computer and dragged myself to bed ... to awaken at 7 AM to finish what was left unfinished ... and head to my luncheon meeting. I was a tad surprised when BFA greeted me wearing jeans, a baseball cap and a velvet (yup velvet) multi-toned grey jacket. I guess that's when my gut said "holy crapola you were right!"

Right about what? ... well for a short time now I've been wondering how long the organization was going to pretend that they actually wanted the change that was being planned and additionally whether they could handle having that change rammed down their throats by a gum-chewing, hard ass, pin-stripe suited tall bald guy with no personality to speak of ...

To make a long story short ... over lunch a few hours later ... he opened up and told me that he was "possibly" stepping down to "help" the organization in its financial crisis ... his CEOs salary would be better served paying other things ... (hey I've used that one) ... and the requisite explanations, justifications and ramblings that usually follow such a chat ...

I'll help from the sidelines he stated ... as he handed a good half of the "agent of change" mantle to my shoulders ...

Will I succeed where he failed? Stay tuned until October 17 when I have to face the huddled masses and gauge their reactions ...

All that to say, that during lunch ... he allowed the person he is to be glimpsed every now and then ... and what a sense of humour, he's actually a nice guy ...

Why do people hide behide corporate armour when they get titles? Don't they realize they are still leading people and if you don't deal with people as people ... you don't have a chance in hell of succeeding (unless of course you stay hidden in your office and delegate) ...

But I'm rambling, aren't I? ...

Wordless Wednesday

Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Parking lot play ground

Update

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

We're hanging in there ... pretty hard not to as life marches on and we wouldn't want to get left behind ...

It's been 18 days that Nic's in France ... living her "aventure" ... and already the French words are peppering her emails ... and she's being swept off her feet by young French lads who kiss-kiss both cheeks and try and catch some lip in between ...

She no longer has to talk to us everyday ... she has started a "life" (however temporary) there ... with its requisite routines and familiar patterns that comfort.

Melanie continues to tackle the details of her wedding ... feeling somewhat "frusterated" because what she dreams up in her mind doesn't translate easily into the real world. Not without money trees ...

Jonathan ... may be coming home! We've been searching for a rooming situation for J for a couple of weeks ... he can't seem to choose between Toronto or Mississauga ... between the city and the suburbs. So we've offered that he come home, and be as independent as possible ... buy his own food, cook his own meals, use the back door if he wants ... answer to no one. We'll have a few rules in place that any "boarding house" might have ...

I'm torn ... between wanting my son home ... hoping it will help ... and being somewhat hesitant and fearful that this environment may not be healthy. But then again, we've all changed since June ...

Kyla's going home this weekend to help her mother move into a new townhouse ... she's downsizing (long story). And I haven't heard from Will in a while ...

Stefani was late for school this morning ... my fault ... I just couldn't get up and kept thinking that the alarm clock was part of a television game show. Fifteen minutes late ... not bad for sleeping in an extra hour!

Dave's gone golfing ... last D shift golf tournament of the season ...

And I ... well I've got to finished that blasted painting of the livingroom ... yup I still haven't finished (life got in the way remember?). After the walls looked so nice ... I decided to paint the wall unit as well.

The BFH (Boss from Hell) is coming into town on Friday ... to assess my progress on the presentation that will save his job ... so I'll have to apply myself somewhat today and tomorrow.

... and so it goes ...


Reconnections and Recollections

Monday, September 15, 2008

If there is a silver lining in the funeral cloud ... it has to be the reconnections ... spending time with those we hardly ever see ... as Stefani and Matt above. Funny that connections take precedence over the pain, grief and sorrow ... but then again, life is for the living, isn't it?

Some of the family from Sudbury came down ... it was touching to witness Uncle Vic who is still struggling with the death (just 20 days ago) of his beloved sweetheart Edith (sister to Helen) ... paying his respects to Helen who has surely joined Edith for a mean game of crib. That entire family is together now in the wherever ... whether wherever is simply within our hearts ...

Sweet Maija kissed a rose and said Gramma would love it ... and then kept asking why Gramma wasn't around to play with ...

Stefani stood so tall and proud during the service and along with Melanie on her guitar sang "Miss You": "I miss you ... I miss your smile ... and I'll still shed a tear every once in awhile ... And even though it's different now ... you're still here somehow... my heart won't let you go ...and I need you to know ... I miss you" (thank you Miley Cyrus / Hannah Montana) ...

... and I? I found the right words, the right tone ... and dared each and every one to live their lives as Helen did ... in love ...

Must have done okay ... the funeral director asked if I wanted a job as a "non denominational" eulogist / celebrant ... seems like heresy to me ...

Tears flowed, stories were shared, smiles punctuated the frowns ... the heavens opened up and rained and rained and rained ...

Fitting really ...

Life goes on

school, work, cleaning the pool, laundry, walking the dog ... it all goes on ... altered but yet seemingly unchanged on the surface ...
after all, we're just ripples ...

Eulogist?

Friday, September 12, 2008
Life is eternal, and love is immortal,and death is only a horizon;
and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
~Rossiter Worthington Raymond

So I’m writing the eulogy … does that make me a eulogist? The honour was bestowed upon me when their father passed away … And then yesterday … all eyes turned to mine when the question was asked – “who in the family will say a few words” …

I’m honoured … but it’s a weighty task … it’s hard to sum things up in a few lines

Period.

Thursday, September 11, 2008
I don’t like periods … have always had a soft spot for ellipses … those three dots that allow a thought to ramble on and on and on and on and on . Something about the finality of a period just doesn’t sit right with me … it doesn’t fit with how my mind works … my never ending stream of conciousness babble. Don’t get me wrong … I use my fair share of them … but more out of rote than anything else.

Periods are meant to finish a thought … to separate one sentence from another … so periods are endings … and I don’t like endings …

My mother-in-law passed away last night … a period placed at the end of an eighty plus year life full of children and love and hardships tragedies and joys.

Wish I could believe in ellipses beyond what I place on sheets of paper …

Wordless Wednesday

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

I am in the details

Tuesday, September 9, 2008
I am in the details …

It’s all in the details … the difference between a dress purchased at Walmart and something haute couture by Coco or Yves or Anne or Alfred … an incredible party and a so-so affair …

Details … are the invisible wall beyond which intimacy lays …

when speaking to the neighbour over the garden fence you say, “I’m cooking chicken again tonight” … and to your spouse or loved one you state, “I’m cooking up a delectable chicken meal tonight full of plum tomatoes, fresh oregano, onions and peppers and zucchini in a white wine sauce … and I think I’ll serve that on a bed of wild rice.“

it’s the littlest details that speak the loudest … affirming to those select few or many that they are special … we let them in for a closer look at those things that make us who we are …

… after all, we are all but a sum of our many parts …

In similar fashion, our mental file cabinets hold lists of all those particular likes and dislikes and trivial and not so trivial details of those we hold dear … she has a heart-shaped mole on her left shoulder or he likes his carrots cooked but still crunchy and they both like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups …

I think that’s why these kind of lists are so abundant in blog worlds and facebooks and social networks … it seems such a nonthreatening way to reach out and be heard … to hand over to someone little samplings of ourselves … probably qualified in our mind as “it’s nothing “big” … just a few of my likes and dislikes … “

But it’s the small and teeniest of details that define who we are … and who you are … and who they are …

Does that mean we are all starving to be accepted “as is” … that sale item we purchase not quite sure if we’ll find it defective or not … and in turn, does that mean we haven’t taken the time to ensure that those around us know all those little details … or perhaps we’re afraid that they haven’t taken the time or that they don’t have the inclination to remember? … are we recording ourselves for posterity? …

Daily life has a way of bombarding us with issues and crises and tragedies and celebrations that overshadow those little details … sometimes they only seem to be important as a birthday or christmas or an anniversary comes around … (what? Blue balloons? … you know she hates blue) …

As much as we are in the details … that is also where we can assuredly find “love” … the extra sprinkles on the cupcakes … the handstitching on the hand-made gift from Aunt Ida … the extra heart on the picture drawn by a child’s hand …

… it’s about remembering that she doesn’t like her foods to touch on the plate and that he hates flannel sheets … and they only drink white wine …

Striped PJs

I bought myself these new pair of pjs the other day ... fushia and hot pink striped pj bottoms with a t-shirt top ...
Comfortable, breathable ... not the best buy if I want to make sure I get dressed everyday. You know how it is ... I get up and start the day ... check the computer ... do some work-work the kind that pays the bills and break to get some house-related work done ... and before I know it it's 3 PM and I'm still in my pjs!

Simple joys of working from home ...

So here I am blogging about pjs? how low have I stooped ... is there nothing of more interest in my life at the moment, no pivotal questions to ponder, no earth to save ...?

But the fact is ... that though the colour scheme is waaayyy off (or is it?) ... I can't help feeling like the Cat in the Hat ... and I'm filled with an irresistable urge to raise my top hat and say hello to the fun creatures that are sure to pop out!

the simple joys of striped pjs ...

Crap

Monday, September 8, 2008
I used to be afraid of anger, vexation, ire ... whatever you want to call that emotion that causes us to take up arms, man the stations, arm the torpedoes. If "anger" were a cartoonish cartoon within the peanut gallery of my mind ... she'd be an Amazon ever alert with sword and shield and dagger and lance and battering ram at her side ... and once awakened, she'd don her fine armour and stand guard and attack if need be (I mean that's what she's paid for ... no? to protect and defend) ...

Perhaps that Amazon intimidated me ... so glorious in her righteousness, taut as I can only imagine a jaguar is as it surveys its prey ... rippling muscles and abs (and buns, naturally) of steel ... that when caught in her crossfire as she defended and stormed and protected with all her might, I'd feel little and weak (and a little flabby).

So when I'd feel the tinglings of consternation, contrariness, non-agreement ... I'd swallow really hard to make them disappear (like a bitter pill or yucky medicine or brussel sprouts).

Though I'm sure I realized on some level that this didn't really make anything go away ... simply postponed the inevitable ... I would breathe a sigh of relief and put on my conciliatory face and turn my head to avoid the slap, the hurt, the insult ... I'd stop thinking to make sure it would just die its unnatural death ...

Ah ... but little did I know that there was this stockpile room at the back of the corridor ... with a plain white sign upon which was written 'Crap". I would imagine that I'd convinced myself that someone had whited out the "per" that should have appeared at the end of that word ... makes sense that my peanut gallery might just need to use the facilities every now and again.

... anyways behind the metal door of the "Crapper" ... filed away for future reference was every instance of ire, vexation, frustration, nonagreement experienced. Boxes and boxes and boxes of the stuff ... cobwebs and dust bunnies everywhere. No one every visited the "Crapper" ...

And yes ... when the Crapper eventually got full ... the crap exploded out of that store room ... the door smashed into a million metal shards ... spraying the world and those closest to me with all that random shit ...

as for the Amazon ... she got covered as well ... and might I add that an Angry Amazon is not a pretty sight ... especially when she gets hit from behind (there she was thinking that the enemy was in front of her ...)

And me? I was in the center of the maelstrom ... flying crap everywhere ... out of control ... unable to think .... Sheer destruction. You can imagine how long it takes to pick up the pieces and put everything back in the Crapper ... and that would have been bad enough but the original contents of the Crapper weren't even all picked up yet when another explosion rocked my world ...

When the dust cleared and the chaos settled ... the reconnaissance began ... the inventory of what was lost, damaged, fixable, dead ...

I've been so busy cleaning up ... I don't quite know when I stopped fearing the Amazon ... allowing myself to live through vexation, ire, nonagreement ... and does the exact moment matter?

You know the Amazon without the Fun House mirrors is rather ordinary and not so scary and really is not imposing or frightful at all ...

She says her piece ... and I deal with the shit ... and we move on!

The Colour of my Wall

Sunday, September 7, 2008
Just finished putting up the painter’s tape and laying old sheets on the hard wood floors of the living room … I’m giving the livingroom walls a fresh coat of paint … much needed as one wall has stood neglected since July when the new bay window was installed.

Yesterday as I was at the paint store staring at the paint chip galleries … I had visions of my livingroom walls giddy with excitement wondering what colour I’d be bathing them in … robin egg’s blue … cloudy charcoal … cuban cigar …. maybe sunkissed white (paint chips have such great names). I can’t blame them really … as the rest of the house walls bear names such as Fresh Melon, Freshwater, Cuban Cigar, Rich Mocha, Moonlight Blue, Tutti Frutti … I think they’re going to be rather disappointed that they’re to be bathed in beige.

Did you know that there are hundreds of shades of beige? I never knew … but I met them all last night at the paint store … Mandolin String, Water Chestnut, Grey Moth, Mystical, Poker Face … rather exotic names for a common colour that is routinely described as … ordinary, run-of-the-mill, generic, unremarkable …I know that if I were a wall I’d be rather insulted that I’d been deemed beige … Beige? (raised eyebrows) … the colour of cargo pants and pantyhose??

“Water Chestnut” is the beige of choice … and as I look down at the paint chip one of those weirdnesses of life stare up at me … english colour name= water chestnut / french colour name= lin antique … translation = antique linen … and that’s a colour of its own within the english colour wheel. So what’s Antique Linen called in French? Water Chestnut? So what’s the logic behind this? Has the paint company decided that French eyes don’t see the colours in the same way as English eyes? …

Speaking of French … beige is ecru … and even the English use the term … especially when trying to downplay the beige-index of whatever they’re trying to describe. I mean, come on … ecru sounds sophisticated, definitely not ordinary …

If I were a wall I could handle ecru … and maybe I could find peace in knowing that my colour brings balance and is the perfect foil to make other colours shine and look their best … that my ecru keeps things light …

But beige, ecru, water chestnuts aside … I’d much prefer to be … (oh my the possibilities are limitless) … Caribbean Blue Water … it’s the colour that makes me comfortable and quiets my internal churnings … What colour is your wall?

"Me" List ...

Friday, September 5, 2008
Seen this kind of list everywhere on the Blog-o-Sphere … so apologies to all of you who have these lists and whom I’ve lurked … but you know what they say … imitation is the sincerest form of flattery …

And this just goes so well with my current mind-set … the one that’s all up on finding the difference between the sheep in me (that simply follows the herd) and the wolf under the sheep’s clothing (hey … wolves are nice animals … don’t believe all the stereotypical cliches you’ve read) .

100+ things about me:

1.I have many regrests but none that would cause me to start all over
2.I am headstrong
3.I love to cuddle
4.I love belly laughs … mine and others
5.I love Italian and French red wines
6.I’m lactose intolerant but remembering this important tidbit seems to be beyond my current abilities …
7.I have a boxer named Peanut Butter
8.I love a frozen marguerita on a hot, lazy day
9.My nickname is still Gigi (tag I’ve had since I was 4 years old)
10.I’m a whizz at Scrabble
11.I love to be barefoot (some would say I loved the pregnant part too … ha)
12.I love lavender and lilacs
13.I do my crossword puzzles in ink
14.My favorite perfume is Neiges by Lise Watier … it smells like “me”
15.I listen to favorite songs until I just can’t listen one more time or I’ll explode or something
16.I prefer French over English
17.I get upset if someone makes a lot of noise when they’re eating … smacking their lips
18.I talk with my hands
19.I don’t like making eye contact until I’m ready
20.I’ve been called a bitch before … many, many, many times
21.I am aloof and reserved but not a wallflower
22.I sing in the car at the top of my lungs
23.I love to golf
24.I don’t sing in the shower
25.I hate whistling
26.I take loooong bubble baths
27.Don’t like birds much … I’ve been bitten by a bird, shit on by a few others, and “attacked” by a few pets
28.I sat on my son’s gerbil once (gerbil was hidden under the pillows of the couch) and “squish” !
29.I love inukshuks
30.I have met the President of China
31.I’m a good cook
32.I have a tendancy to take on other people’s problems
33.I own one credit card and it’s really just for emergencies
34.I’m training to run my first 5K in October
35.My favorite season is fall
36.I love the colour brown … the colour of sand and chocolate and tree bark and puppies
37.I love chocolate sundaes … vanilla ice cream just drowning in chocolate
38.I want to get NLS certified (lifeguard)
39.I drive a silver Sunfire
40.I love to shoot pool
41. My day doesn’t really begin until I’ve had my first cup of coffee
42. I love Starbucks Caramel Macchiatos
43. I don’t really believe in astrology but I glance at my horoscope most everyday
44. My Chinese Zodiac sign is a Metal Rat
45. I cry during movies, commercials … heck I even cried once watching golf!
46.I have a pocket sized dream catcher in my purse
47. I still wish on stars
48.I wish I knew more
49.I collect sea glass (river glass, lake glass) in jars
50.I think dragonflies are beautiful
51. If I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it well or not at all
52. I love the wind
53. I recharge in stillness
54. I read in the bathtub
55. I love aged faces and the stories they tell
56.I have been known to walk the dog in my pjs
57. I love Watermelon-Kiwi gum
58. I hate intolerance
59. I hate ignorance
60. I’m 5’7’ but wish I was taller
61. I’m of Finnish heritage
62.I love to wear sweaters
63. I paint my toenails pink
64.I have rarely ever managed to shave my legs without nicking myself
65. Some days I’m just a klutz
66.When I’m confused I feel dizzy
67.I dislike office politics and business games but I’m pretty good at the latter
68.I always do more than I need to
69.I don’t like going to sleep because that means one more day is over
70.I don’t nap well
71. I dislike idle chatter and I’m terrible at small talk
72. I enjoy debates
73. I’m known as “that” mom … the one who is too liberal, too permissive, too open, doesn’t follow “the rules”
74. I’m thinking about a tattoo
75. I love silver bangles
76. I love the Cayman Islands … and the people there
77. I love old buildings
78. I love candlelight
79.I love the smell of freshly laundered clothes
80. I like the feel of the word “bigoudi” on my tongue
81. I dislike anything bland
82. My favorite child is the one I am hugging at the moment
83. I love my husband … faults and all
84. I love feeling sun-kissed and having sand between my toes
85. I like snowfall at twilight
86.I like vines and ivy
87.I love the smell of the forest
88.I love the touch of silk, lace, linen and cotton
89.I sometimes don’t wear underwear
90.I am competitive
91. I swear like a sailor
92.I’m a pirate at heart
93.I like brussel sprouts
94.I recycle
95. omg … I love Bon Jovi
96.I love thrift stores and yard sales and “other people’s garbage”
97. I respect other people’s (and my children’s) privacy
98. I value intelligence
99.I hate math
100.I dislike feeling cold
101.I have killer hot flashes
102.I fall prey to procrastination
103.Politics bores me
104.I actually like brussel sprouts
105.I love violin
106.I don't remember my dreams much but when I do they've always been in colour
107.I'm proud of every grey hair on my head
108.I prefer bitter to sweet
109.I like shiny things
110.A star-filled sky takes my breath away
111.I love mechanical pencils
112.I can't walk in high heels
113.I feel like I've recently shed a skin or two
114.I'm afraid of spiders
115.Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew
116.There's a girly-girl inside me
117.I own a pair of Birkenstocks
118.I make my own candles
119.I bake my own bread
120.I'm a Fire sign but I love the Water ... what gives?

... and I'm sure there's so much more ...

Grey

Who needs books when there’s hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands of blogs out there to devour? I’ve been navigating the blog-o-spheres … flitting around … resting here or there for a minute or an hour (yup … I’m now well-versed in lurking) … and I’m simply in awe of the diversity, the poetic prose, the great writing I’ve found.

There are millions of flavours to be savoured (Baskin-Robbins eat your heart out!) … “eight million stories in the naked city” …

And in what can only be described as a “Wayne’s World” moment … I momentarily find myself “unworthy” …

("exsqueeze me?” … I am Canadian after all)

And that feeling just adds to the temporary writer’s block, journal block, blog-block I am experiencing (we apologize for the interruption in our service and we return you back to your regularly scheduled broadcast) …

How can someone who has something to say about virtually everything and nothing … not find anything to say at all when confronted with a clean white space in which to let it all out?

Damn those insecurities and perfectionist tendancies!!

But it goes beyond that, doesn’t that? Into the Grey… which envelopes me and cradles me in her arms that won’t let go … whispering to me, cajoling me to stay where I won’t have to deal with black or white … where I don’t have to “be” … where I can simply float around like a whisp changing shape at all times, changing my mind at will or at whim …

Not to say that existing in the Grey isn’t a great place to think and ponder and just play around with thoughts and things …

But it’s such a great hiding place that I can find myself never taking a stand … always arguing all the sides of the coins … never really taking shape … never being something however right or wrong or sane or insane or black or white that something is …

Grey seduces me, paralyzes me and makes stringing words in a sentence to solidify a thought something to be feared … she whispers “but what if you don’t believe that tomorrow?” … “won’t that make you a liar?” …

Grey convolutes my thoughts and adds layers and layers of analysis to make sure that I don’t break free from her grasp …

But break free, I must … as that’s why I’m here … that’s why most of us are here … to speak our minds, our truths, our lies, our “beings” … so that we can truly take shape as the souls we are in black and white …

… to stop hiding in the Grey or behind the labels of mother, father, sister, wife, brother, husband, employee, employer, lover, enemy, friend …

Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation. ~Oscar Wilde, De Profundis, 1905

By reaching beyond the Grey into Black and White … maybe I’ll find me (just where I left her at age 4 or 5) … and think my thoughts, live my life, find my passions and pen my own quotations.

There are 8 million stories in the naked city. And this is one of them …

Wordless Wednesday

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Unconcious Mutterings

I say ... and you think ... ?
Groceries :: money
Deodorant :: smell of baby powder
Psychic :: gypsies
Cherries :: pits
Spooky :: screams
Yogurt :: french vanilla .. yum!
Kitchen :: warmth
Nothing personal :: cold
Be nice :: mother's voice
Delivery :: pregnancy

http://subliminal.lunanina.com


Still

Tuesday, September 2, 2008
It’s the first day of school … new beginnings… and with it comes Routine hand-in-hand with the new school bags and brand new day-timers.

Routine doesn’t come easily to me and I find it hard to maintain. Gulp. I must admit that I’m that mom who starts September with resolutions of making gourmet lunches, waking up a half hour early and cooking warm breakfasts … but … within a few weeks, I’m back to cold cereal and quick kisses as we rush out the door.

I managed the warm breakfast this morning (thank goodness for microwaves!) … but I have no illusions… this too shall pass.



The walk to and from school was nice … the air was crisp like it too had turned to a fresh new page in the notebook … students with still-stiff backpacks, sporting new clothes and new haircuts with their sneakers tied with still-white laces displayed looks of excitement, dread and fear as the minutes counted down to 8:55 am.

Home again … I’m amazed at how quiet the house is … only me and Peanut Butter amidst all this stillness.

Labour Day

Monday, September 1, 2008



Sun, swimming and hotdogs over a charcoal fire ... what more could you ask for on Labour Day?