Shedding the Bah-Humbug....

Hi All, just thought you should know that my mother arrives in two days. I have been diverting and trying not to have conniptions. To keep my mind off getting overwhelmed by the fact that the house is a disaster (and before anyone says 'she's coming to visit you, not the house', this is and isn't strictly true. The Kraut factor, remember? The clean-freak Principle, which is ingrained in her and all of her ancestors, but which I am able to conveniently overlook - or be in denial of- from time to time. Lately has been one of those times....) Also, our vacuum cleaner is dead.

So anyway, I digress, and have been all day. But it was a productive and creative digression. I made the most stunning wreath for the door with cedar, balsam, fir - all pilfered from the land. Some cut and some scavenged from the ground, thanks to the recent storms - fresh holly, ivy and a red satin bow with silver edges. Lovely. Also made some hanging clusters of same as the above, with bows as well to put at the corners of the deck. It looks festive and welcoming, even if the interior of the house does not.

Still haven't got a tree and there may only be a few left for sale, maybe we can get one from B's father's farm? We'll see....

Meanwhile, a cup of tea is in order and then I have to do a blitz cleaning, straighten up mum's bedroom which is currently still the 'junk room'...and try not to lose my mind in the process. Tomorrow I'm back at work, and then dinner at my brother's so I wont be able to do much in the way of preparation before she arrives on Thursday afternoon....

Please, wish me luck!

P.s I have not made or bought a single present yet. I dont know what I am going to do..... YIKES!

Weather or Not....

Have lit a fire in the wood stove, which is burning nicely now, casting a good heat, and am comfortably settled in, at least for a while, to write a long overdue post. Glass of well deserved wine at hand.

We've been hit by a series of freakish storms over the past few weeks, starting with snow, which I told you about, and then rain, wind, and more rain and wind. Nearly 200,000 homes out of power at one point, some of them for days, some of them still, a week later. Horrible for them. We ourselves have been very lucky.

I had oil candles burning a lot, just in case the power went, so as not to have to grope in the dark for light. It did go out, too, but just for a minute at a time, in quick succession- one, two, three, right after a large flash of light in the dark and furious night sky, and then the power came back on. Thank heaven for small mercies. We are so dependant on modern conveniences...

Sitting on the couch, looking out the large windows, I watched the fir and balsam trees being lashed by hurricane-force winds, and I was afraid. Rain pounded slantwise on the house, almost horizontal, hammering the windows, despite two foot soffits (eaves). The tin roof made a noise like a train. I was afraid, watching those trees bend to impossible angles, back and forth, back and forth, branches flying off in all directions and setting off the motion detecting lights on the studio. I was so worried that one of them, the top of a tree, probably, would break off and come hurtling in through the window where I sat, making a direct line, like a compass to north, to impale my head. Visions of a bad disaster movie. Drama queen, I know.... I've never actually been scared of a wind storm before, but I tell you, the elements meant business. It was terrible. Aside from the ruined gutters (from snow) we've sustained little damage, I'm glad to report. We were so lucky.

Meanwhile, I am feeling more confident at work, but still have the looming spectre of potential unemployment hovering at the periphery. Hours have been cut due to the overall numbers coming in, and there is nothing I can do about that. I'm beginning to see things more philosophically now, and trying to regain my sense of humour. Had a compliment about my work the other day, which was nice (and almost brought me to tears, it was so unexpectedly kind), from one of the 'top' people, and I haven't had a lot of those.

The Christmas party went well, last weekend. I was a bit worried that chins would be wagging, and that there would be a flurry of gossip because we ended up sitting at the owner's table. Kind of an honour, like sitting at the captain's table, you know? And only the important office people were sitting there. B and I arrived a little late, fashionably, of course, and were hunting around for vacant seats, and were simply invited by the owner to join them. Gobsmacked. But actually I shouldn't have been. They are seriously nice people and utterly without pretension. It was a nice evening, but I was so tired from a truly hellish day, and we left sort of early. Just after dinner the speeches, and 'secret santa' gift exchanges.... and before the dancing and the very ribald revelry started. I heard rumours of some of the behaviour and goings on and frankly was glad I was not there to see it. I don't think I should mention it in this blog! So far no one has said a word about our exalted seating arrangements. Which is good. The drama of other people's behaviour superseded any gossip we might have have generated. Thank all Gods.

I was always up for a laugh, in the old days. I was always joking, and saw the funny side of things. A healthy sense of the ridiculous, I used to say. Before the truth of infertility, before the memories of childhood trauma returned, before my marriage died.... I used to be funny.

I'm starting to regain my funny bone, I think.

A case in point occurred most humorously last week when I accidentally mooned the entire store for 1/2 the day. I kid you not. I realised at lunch time that my pants zipper - at the back- had split, and every time I leaned over to get a bag to deposit a customer's items into, I must have been exposing my arse. Mind you, I was wearing dark leggings as long johns underneath my black trousers (I'm near one of the doors and the winter gusting winds tend to apply a frigid draft up my aft, so added protection in the undergarment department is a must...) Perhaps no one noticed? Having between 300 and 500 people come through my till a day, I wonder what are the odds.... ? Huh. No wonder everyone was so friendly! :)

I just had to laugh. I think that means I am on the mend.....

Other than that, am settling in to the rhythm of work more and more, still not in the studio on days off, but am feeling that that will come...soon. Things with B are good. We're broke, but what else is new?

B is over at a friend's right now, doing his guy bonding thing, and I have the place to myself for the night. The cats and dogs want feeding, which I'll tend to, and then I'll sit down on the couch with a Diana Gabaldon book, to reread. (Oooh, that Jamie! I want to be Claire when I grow up!) The night is calm, with hardly a drop of rain, but everything smells sharply damp and fresh in that coldly winter wet way, with mare's tails wisping across the night sky. Star light seeping through the clouds, very gently, in places here and there. There is no storm tonight. I'll light a lantern anyway, and some candles.

I like the feeling of being in that light.

Its been a good day. Moreover, I've had the most gorgeous, lengthy and rambling talk with my best friend, who lives in England. Food for the Soul. Absolute heart nourishment.

Later:

Oh damn.

Shit. Piss. Fuck.

Willy's gone missing. Nearly every Bloody time B stays over at Peter's for a guy's night, playing cards and drinking beer, which isnt that often anymore, frankly, William goes off on walkabout. How does he know that B's not coming home tonight? HOW does he know?

Shit. Fuck. Piss; Goddamn sonofabitch.

I guess that fence I thought I repaired so well isnt actually repaired very well at all. It wouldnt matter so much if Willie werent an epileptic....

Bloody, bloody, bloody hell. Now I'm having hell-scenario visions of Willie having gotten out onto the road and having a seisure just as a large truck comes barrelling down the hill....

Shit.

Later:

The prodigal son returns. But not before first Xena and I, and then a second attempt, Zeus and I went on search and rescue. He got out of the pen, of course, little monster, with no expressions of remorse, full of himself, and the delight of freedom. Wolf at heart....and he was fine. We encountered Pushkin during our travels who came home, following us at a run with a loud 'Prrriiirrrup!'. Dont ask. He's a cat with sound effects. He's beautiful and very very cool.

Everyone is finally contentedly ensconced, and under roof, and I will have pasta for dinner now. Everyone is safe. Phew. I can relax at last and read my book.

Jeeze. About time. Bloody hell, what a day.

I hope everyone out there is okay.....

Layers of the Onion....

Got my car back on the road for the first time in over a week. That was exciting. I took Zeus with me into town to pick up a few bits and pieces, among them dog food and treats. He was spoiled, as usual. He always enjoys, with a simultaneous exultant thrill, yet still a calm and smug, "This is only my due" kind of attitude, as he receives the adoration of his fans, and seeks every opportunity to work the crowd and expand his fan base. He thinks he's royalty. Or a rock star. What a ham! Of course, the way people fuss over him doesn't help the high regard he holds of his own status in the eyes of the world. Silly dog. It makes me think of the personas we all put on when we go into the world. He's really quite sensitive and insecure. As are we all, and we all put on 'the mask' to make ourselves safe.

The new and exciting drama occurring at the house is that as the snow begins to melt, it is sliding off the roof of main house and studio, and taking the gutters with it. One of them is ripped right in 1/2. This is not good, and when the parent arrives at Christmas, to view her domain, she will have fits. I am trying not to have them myself.

I've let go of a lot of my emotional investment in this place as I am reminded, repeatedly, when things come to conflict with her, that she could have bought a house elsewhere, with other tenants, and not had such a headache. Thanks mom. I am reminded, every time I go into anxiety attacks at her imminent arrival, by my sibling, that I chose this, to live in her house. Yes, I did.

I find my hindsight is spectacularly clear. Not so good the other way round. Never mind... We have to deal with what is.

In fact, mum has been surprisingly supportive about the crappy job and is encouraging me to get my arse into the studio to 'produce', but there is the issue of mortgage and bills, and 4 dogs to feed, (don't forget the two cats), and my own sometimes crippling sadness that comes at times of stress, to paralyse me and beat me down.

Meanwhile, after a fantastic beginning to the year, and telling me he didn't want me to have to work outside of the home if I didn't want to, and to GET INTO THE STUDIO!" B had a setback in his new business at the end of the Summer and is struggling to catch up again. Ergo me and the crappy job....He will, it is just a matter of time. He's so talented and good at what he does and has already built a reputation which is very respected,in only one year of being out on his own. These things take time. It will be okay.

Did I mention we were robbed by one of the reno workers two or so months ago? My mother's house, her reno, her money. My fault. I didn't lock the house. No one does here. It has fucked me up badly. That experience brought up all of the old issues, pushing me into a relapse of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I feel like nothing will ever be the same.

Getting on meds helped, at least it is better now, but when I started my job, I was on the edge and things got worse for a while, so that I had trouble concentrating and focusing. My short term memory is like a sieve these days. Not good circumstances under which I have to learn a computer database system on a pc when I have historically ONLY used, ever, a Mac.

And then there is the fact that now that I am 42, hoping for a miracle is kind of a lost cause. A baby isn't going to happen in this life time. We cant afford fertility or foreign adoption. And I am to old to qualify for regular adoption in this country as the waiting list can drag on for years.

Right now.... I feel okay. Its been a rough ride the last few months though. Right now, I can stay up late tonight watching tv on the couch, offer to make hot lemon and honey for B who is in the worst part of the cold I gave him (which I am now nearly over). He will refuse it, saying, "no thanks, Baby". But I did make a fantastic soup and lovely salad for dinner, and made him lunch earlier this morning. We eat very well. We might be dirt poor right now but we eat well, and so do the beasties.

If I'm really lucky, the roads will be clear enough to bundle the dogs into my ancient car and take them to the ravine for a run.....

I can stay up late tonight, sleep in tomorrow a little, but get up early enough to make B breakfast and lunch, and see him off on his day. We take care of each other. If I feel like it I'll clean the house tomorrow, and if not, I'll do something else, or nothing at all. A day off. Make myself hot lemon, and crap out on the couch and watch soap operas.... and try to block out the sounds of a lonely studio, still not named, still not animated, who keeps asking me to come and play with her, and which I still ignore. I am feeling her calling more and more insistently and I know I NEED to get over there, because I don't want her to become a sad and lonely space. She needs my energy, my attention. She needs to be loved so that I can feel safe and creative in there, and we can make things together.....Maybe she is the child I am meant to have.....? I am trying to strtip off layers of the onion these days, distilling what I am and what I need, who I want to be into one and the same thing, but they seem so far apart....

We all have lonely spaces within us that need attention. We all have symbols and archetypes that speak to us about those places. And call to us. How often do we listen?

Aaaarrrrgghh!!!!

I've been told that I remain on 'probation' , being one of the newer members on the Totem pole at work ,because I don't have enough computer skills. At the time - last week - I was so gutted I immediately fell into a depression and got sick. Fortunately I had my three days off, right after that, which I spent pretty much on the couch, being alternately sorry for myself about being ill, and sorry for myself for not getting on the benefits plan. Yet. Bastards. What they'll do, I suspect, is use me and then spit me out after the Christmas rush. First day back at work, I was cowed and quiet, but now I'm back to my usual flippant and mouthy self, and if they don't like that, they can fold their opinions into sharp little corners and insert them right up their you-know-whats.

Fuck 'em. Goddamn office politics. I am not a politician. And anyway, as e.e. cummings said, "A politician is an arse, upon which has sat, everything but a man." So there. Why can people just be nice and get the job done? Why is it always about competition and status and power. Yuk. Okay? Just...yuk.

I'm an artist, and I'm playing at being a till jockey right now. And I only have myself to blame, but having owned and managed my own business for ten years, and taught stained glass and mosaics for three, through the Board of Education's continuing Ed programme, I can confidently say, I'm not a complete idiot, or entirely without people skills. Thank you. Its what happens when you leave a marriage, and a home, a whole history, life, and friends behind; dust settling across 5ooo miles. Or is that kilometers? It doesn't matter, that was then and this is now, and the point is that I am shit scared of engaging with the studio and doing art. Why? WHY?!

Why am I so afraid of it/of myself?

Argh.

I've always thought that artist's block was a euphemism for wallowing or spinelessness, or lack of drive. Lack of confidence maybe. I am harsh, yeah, but who else will look as closely at this than me and pull out the old ghosts to pick through them and say, "THIS is where the fear began...and this is where the road forked, this is where you said no to your Self".

The snow remains, and our dog enclosure is something I am grateful for, still not being able to run the dogs at the ravine. Four of Zeus's balls are lost in the snow. We'll hunt for them when it melts. Probably this weekend. They are still loving the snow. :)

I wonder what I am doing with my life, and worry that in the process of becoming, I am becoming something I don't want to be or have any control over..... Who IS this person? What's happened to me?! What if I am never meant to make or do anything to be proud of?!

Don't worry, once I've licked this blasted cold, which I almost have, I'll be back to my usual Self. Oh, wait a minute, I forgot who that is.....

I am lonely for my iblogs crowd. I miss them a lot. I hope they are all okay....

Lets Try This Again.......

My blog on iblogs is lost. One year of postings, one year of my journal, gone. I'm not devastated, only really disappointed. And pissed off. I wonder if there is a way to retrieve it?

Anyway, Life goes on..... And I'm starting over, here, hoping this will be a new home.

Chicken soup is on the stove, Simmering away with lively gusto and scenting the house with fragrances even my clogged sinuses and runny nose cant compete with. The smells of comfort, whilst a storm rages outside. Winter wonderland. Rare for our little island on the temperate west coast, and a treat. Except for the lack of snow tires.

All hell breaks loose when it snows here. No one on the island knows how to cope with it. Even though my Ontario sensibilities scoff at the panic which people here exhibit when the white stuff starts coming down, I resisted their notion that THIS snow is different somehow than THAT snow. But now that I am into my fourth Winter here, I have become convinced. It is wetter. More dangerous, as a result, and flash freezing makes our pitiful roads an exercise in taking one's life into one's hands every time one settles in behind the steering wheel. NOt to mention the chronic power outages. Which so far, mercifully, we've been spared except for one time when we lost power for only a few hours. B's folks we without power for 5 days last year. Kathleen says it pays to bribe the hydro guys with cases of beer.

I miss the big snows of back east. For about a week or two, and then I no longer have any use for it, but that's okay because snow rarely stays that long, here.

I took the dogs out into it this afternoon. They went crazy with glee in a way that only happy dogs who have been cooped up too long can show. Three of them in fleece coats, although Teddy, being 1/2 Akita, never needs one. Usually I drive them to the ravine for their run, but not today.

This past fall B and I made a dog enclosure, but Willy, escape artist that he is, seems to have found a chink in that armour and kept getting out to visit the neighbour's dog. (She's sexy). So despite my cold, I bundled up and threw the ball for them, and made big rolled up snow balls with what we used to call 'packing snow' which Xena delighted in eviscerating. When she was a puppy, no snow-man was safe from her. She would "kill" them dead every time, and stomp them into the ground, erasing all traces of them. I placed stones and sticks from our little woods all along the area of fencing which was suspect, and I think I've got the problem solved. Threw the ball for Zeus again and again. They Loved it.

I am dreading going back to work on Wednesday. I took on this job thinking that it would be good for me to be around people, having has such an isolated experience overseeing the renovations for so long. HOW long, you ask? Coming up on 3 years now. You wonder why I'm losing my mind........?!

I haven't done any art since the studio was built, and I did my first stained glass window in it last year.

This is me. Artist. Blocked. Crap job. And whining about it.

Suck it up girl, life is what you make of it!

My mother will arrive from overseas for Christmas, bringing her special brand of kraut-factor "THIS is how we do things!" which always makes me feel inadequate. Twice a year she comes, and it takes me months to recover, each time. We dont always get along.

Lets put the fun back into dysfunctional! :)