Three Alarm Fire.... Or, 'Drama belongs in Life, Not on the Stage...'

Nothing like a nice relaxing bath at the end of the day.... Something I could use right now. For hours, but we went to the beach instead, and let the stresses of the last few days wash away. I clung to a small driftwood log, languishing in the water which was warm and felt my muscles unwind, the knots leaving my limbs as the tide came in and gently rocked me back and forth. I thought about the events of the past few days, counting my blessings as my body was embraced by the waters. The dogs swam after the balls we threw, played and ran on the pebbled shore-line and we had some much needed r&r....

On Monday night we evacuated our home, due to a massive fire not more than a mile away from us.

It all started out with us hearing sirens and saying as how they sounded really close. I went out to the front deck, smelled smoke, thought it was my imagination until I looked up and saw a big black cloud. I then flew to the back deck where I saw the size of the cloud: billowing, moving with a seeming volition all its own, gargantuan, and back-lit with what I thought at first was the sunset...

B and I walked down the road encountering a few neighbours. We all stood in amazement at the sight. Directly in front of us, at the end of the road is a bank of trees and the cloud of smoke seemed to loom over it, fanned by a hard hot wind. Coming straight at us. Not good. Definitely not good at all.

"That looks really close" "Shit!" "Oh my God".... "It's coming this way!" "That wind... Jesus..."

Within 20 minutes, we had learned that it was the nearby resort which was on fire. Very close. Way too close for comfort, especially on a heavily treed Island, and adjacent to a residential area. Yegads. By the time those 20 minutes were up, I could HEAR the fire, hear it loud, not crackling, or popping, but roaring and booming, and the wind was driving it right to us. The cloud of smoke was tinged bright orange and red with flames. I was afraid. The whole night sky was lit up with it.

Suddenly, I saw embers in the sky, and thought, those cant be a mile away.... I wouldnt be able to see them. And then they started landing in the road, catching up in the trees beside us. Christ, was the whole Island going to go up in flames?

Cars went by; they all stopped and said, "we're leaving". I said that we should knock on doors and alert the neighbours in case anyone was sleeping or unaware. And so we did, running from house to house.

When we got back to our own house B picked up a message on our voice mail telling us to evacuate, and then everything happened very quickly. A friend showed up with divine timing and we packed up all the beasties into three vehicles, but Pushkin was missing.

"I'm not Bloody leaving without him!"

Looking for him, calling to him over and over, he wouldnt come.... (he'd had his dinner so the incentive to come home was rather unattractive on a hot night when he could be hunting, or resting in the cool woods, after all). Time was going by with the smell of smoke thick in the air I thought to myself that I might have to leave without him. But Jaysus, if the place goes up in flames, he'll be killed, burned alive. I just couldnt do it. No matter the risk. He's been my friend, my family for 14 years for Godsakes.....Finally, the little bugger arrived all nonchalant, like, "Where's the fire, dude?" and I could have throttled him, but chucked him in his crate instead.

Just before we left, there was a massive explosion. Propane tank maybe. The sky lit up bright orange, red and yellow and we though, Fuck, that's it. We're done for, its coming for us.

While I was searching for Pushkin, B had gathered up bowls and animal food and loaded everyone into the cars. We high-tailed it out of there like the proverbial bats out of hell, making a pit-stop at the wine store, which had just closed, but which mercifully let us in so we could fortify ourselves against the crisis, i.e: buy some smokes and wine. I'm thinking to myself all the while about what a fucking hypocrite and arse I am to be buying cigarettes when the bloody Island is going up in flames! Wine was for medicinal purposes... you understand.

We arrived en masse at Kathleen's, B's step mother, and explained the dire situation; deposited the animals (all - count em! - 8 of them at Dad's shack). We drank some beers together, and joked about how pissed Dad would be, who was away at the time, visiting family in Manitoba, about having 8 animals in his shack, but I suggested that if the cats dealt with the mouse problem he'd been having of late - a wily thing far too smart to fall for any trap - then we'll have paid our rent for the night! Trying to make light of the serious situation. You had to be there. It was funny at the time..... And truth be told dad wouldnt have been pissed off with us really. It was a crisis after all.

Kathleen gave us bedding, and the one tenant who was home at the time and traveled with us was put up in style in the 5th wheel trailer , which is rather like a small hotel room on wheels complete with kitchenette and shower ( and air conditioning!), far surpassing our own modest accommodation at the shack. I worried about our other tenant, and her daughter but we'd left a note on the door and what else could we do, at nearly midnight, by this point?!

I prayed that the neighbourhood wouldnt burn to the ground. I kept going to the screen door and sniffing the air, smelling smoke, and wondering how bad the damage was. Miles away, if I could smell it here, how close was it getting?!I prayed that no one would be hurt, or worse, killed.... I hardly slept and watched stupid late late night tv, until, exhausted by the events, I fell into a fitful sleep and didnt even hear B's truck leaving in the morning. Was dead to the world until he woke me with a cup of coffee, and told me the house and community was still standing, apparently unscathed.

"And the cats paid our rent"

"Huh?hmmmgrrmf?"

On the floor was a modest sized and very dead rat.

We came home to charred bits all over what isnt a lawn (due to the septic having been redone, we have a field of dirt which is trying valiantly to grow its seeds, but mostly failing in this heat wave). There are bits of charcoal in the flower and herb beds. It is purely a miracle that this entire end of the Island didnt go up in flames and burn to the ground. We had help from the fire departments of three nearby islands, emergency crews and volunteers from the mainland and the Big Island who stayed to put out small brushfires in the forests.

Bless them. I tell you three times, bless them. There were no injuries, deaths, or damage to homes other than the actual resort. Which burned to the ground and ended as a charred, crisp cinder. A bloody miracle I tell you.

The last two days I've been in a stupor. In shock, probably. I'm blaming it on the heat which is a plausible excuse, as I dont do well with it at the best of times. But frankly, I was shit scared, and havent talked about it much. I fear fire. Love it in a woodstove or bonfire. Or fire place, where it belongs. But big fires, wild fires.....I am phobic. Really, really scared of them.

We could have lost our home. People could have died. The Island could have sustained terrible, horrific damage....Yet it didnt. Despite the heat; the drought. Something like this happens, and it changes you. I kept thinking, 'we're all safe, never mind the STUFF, never mind the house; all of the animals and B and I are together and safe, and that's all that matters.' I didnt even think twice about trying to gather bits and pieces together from the house; no photos, not even my portfolio, or my art, it never occurred to me at all. Not once. I wanted my man, my cats and dogs safe, and that was enough for me, that was a grace in and of itself.....

At the end of the day, we are ok, the house didnt go up in flames, no one panicked, all the animals behaved beautifully, and all's well that ends well....

....and the cats 'paid our rent'.

Dad's home now and got a very good chuckle out of that one.

Letting the Cat out of the Bag....

We've discovered the paper bag game. Is anything more fun than three kittens playing with a paper bag? I doubt it.

They had their visit to the clinic today and were all fixed. Lola went to her new family and I had shed most of my tears beforehand, so was reasonably steady until she was put in her carrier, and heard my voice. Despite her groggy state, she stood up, climbed 1/2 out of her box to kiss me on the face... Jesus wept. I tried not to, and mostly failed. I'll miss that little angel. We bonded very deeply. I've decided, and put the thought out into the Universe, that if she needs to come back to me she will, one way or another, and said as much to Chris, telling him, "If it isnt a good match, and if the other cats dont get along with her, she will always have a home with me...." If its meant to be it will be, if not, I know I've added to her life experience in a really good way and contributed to making her babyhood a very good one. I shall miss Lola so much. She's a special Soul.

Meanwhile, Basil is doing well, but Jazzie is still very groggy and gurgling a terrible sound from having been intubated during her procedure. The gas burned her throat, and the tube scraped her larynx. She has tracheitis and laryngitis. I can tell she's really sore and feeling very unwell. Poor love.

Work is odd at the moment. I've changed departments and although 'on paper' all looks good, the department should suit me, but its dead BORING and I so very much miss my regulars; what I used to call, in the old days when I was teaching art, my 'repeat offenders' . The cranky old men who always left my till with a smile, the contractors who respected my opinions on paint and tiling, the hub-bub of the main floor which sees most of the traffic, and me knowing where to direct people within the inch to find what they want.....

Later... Jazzie is vomiting. I dont think that's good. I was told to expect her to be sluggish and to 'gurgle' a bit when she breathes. But no one said anything about vomiting. She's barfed twice now... I've paged the vet.....

Right, have spoken to the vet who says to monitor for an hour (she's managed to get herself onto the bed and beside Baz so that is good) and then call again, and if there isnt any change in her condition, he'll see her to make sure she's ok. That will make it 9pm. Can you believe how dedicated these people are?!

Bless them!

Opportunity Knocks....

... I think. I think so.

I had my assessment at work today. Long overdue. Got a small raise (thank you). And was offered a different position in the company, which months ago I had coveted, but was not allowed as I hadnt the computer skills and there wasnt a place for me. At that time I had covered another employee who was ion holiday for two weeks and I loved it so much upstairs that I had asked to be transferred. But it didnt happen...Turns out things are shifting now, months later, as a result of my hard work learning how to use the computer (I hate PC's) and the departure of the former furniture buyer/manager.

I was praised today for my creativity and for how far I've come since I started. That was nice.

Did I mention that a few weeks ago I told management I needed to cut my hours, at least for the summer? Well I did.

Today I told the company that I would think about it (quickly) and let them know. I told them that I, quite frankly, couldnt afford to work there full time or even four days a week, but I really LOVE my job there, and I love the company. Which I do. So I thought about it...for about a nanosecond. Though I wanted to give myself some space and to talk to B about it (He's all for it) and to let them, well, really WANT me. I know already. I'll take it. My raise isnt contingent on me taking this new position, but moving UP is, and I know that. This is an offer to at the least have a chance of moving forward there.

Down the road I will hopefully have the possibility (assuming all goes well) to become a buyer - as had been promised me when I started- however, that plan fell through when the combination of characters involved didnt 'gel'... as in I found myself in a nest of viperous bitches, none of whom wanted to relinquish their petty control and train me, so that I was left rudderless and swinging in the wind, utterly insecure.... but most of whom I liked well enough, it has to be said, each on their own. The combination of people, and their brand of clique-ism, and negativity was deadly for me. I had to get out.

So I've been cultivating my skills meanwhile, and charming our clients, and generally making everyone happy.

I have a good feeling about this. I will be surrounded by beautiful things. The job will involve sales, some interior design elements and the usual...Freight. But that's ok. And I like the main person I'll be working with. She's 'animal people'.

So, we have options. And life moves forward. Tune in next time. Same Bat time, same Bat channel.

(Did I tell you that New Life in the house would bring new energies and new options? That Life/The Universe would respond and so would I? Huh. When I'm right I'm right!)

Pitter Patter....

I went to visit the kittens today. Purr machines! We've tentatively settled on names for them. Basil and Jasmin. Friends of mine have adopted the little charcoal kit and she is called Lola.

Baz and Jazzie. They'll come home at the end of next week.

*sigh*

:)

Please tell me I'm not a Fool, or Some Kind of Idiot.....

THIS is what made my heart go "Aaaah!" Gods, can you handle the cuteness? Its too soon to tell, but I think brother might be a 'Bullseye' Ginger, which is rare. It means he doesnt have the usual striping but has round, circular markings. Sister is So lovely and gentle, with a white belly and reminds me of Xena, with her black and orange brindle markings. Aren't they gorgeous?

This is what is making me happy, what is getting me excited about having new life in the house, new energy, and new creativity. THIS is what is getting me engaged in the process of creating and being here NOW in life, inspiring me and helping me shake off the last dregs of the winter, down-dragging blues.

I made a whole entirely new raised bed in the garden today, near the studio and close to where the gate will go eventually, and ringed it with stones in an almost spiral; sort of a circle which went inwards and then flared at the edge. That makes no sense of course but no matter because the point is that each stone was dug out by me, by HAND from the sand-box/gravel pit that pretends to be soil on this acre which is slowly but surely becoming beautiful. The reason for the new raised bed was to honour Muriel's potted plants, which have been languishing for two years, waiting to find a proper home where they can put down their roots. So I planted B's mum's two shrubberies, along with loads of other plants which I transplanted from here and there. It looks gorgeous. I'm stoked. I'm sure Muriel is pleased (even though I accidentally broke a piece off one of her her Christmas cactus plants the other week... Sorry M...)

I'm off the couch, feeling SO much better. Spent the whole day outside and am feeling really positive. Got a bit of sun on my face. I worked like a maniac and couldnt believe how much I got done. With all the digging and getting wheel barrows of dirt from the meadow below the woods, I did something weird to my Sacro Illiac, but I dont care! Its like I feel a new infusion of "YES, lets GO!" flowing through me. And it felt truly like Spring has not only arrived, but has had a fanfare of trumpets, with feather boas and sequined ta-ta's, to announce "Hello everybody, I'm AT the PARTY!"

I dont know why this is so important to me. It is symbolic maybe. Another Mother's Day has past without babies of my own body. This time of year, 18 years ago, I lost one of my 3 pregnancies.... This is an anniversary. Its a letting go and a way to be okay with that. This is a surrogate, for sure. And also here's a way to expand Life, caring, nurturing. Symbolic of me reconnecting with giving myself what I want and need, which I havent done for so, So long....I used to be so adamant about what I wanted. I've become a blanc-mange; but now things are shifting back to how they were, or even into something new, something better, at last. It feels really good.

B came with me to visit the 'twins' today. Their eyes have turned from blue to green in the last two days, which tells us they are about 6 weeks old. His comment: "Yup, they are really cute" was a bit quiet, but remember that he now has my cold, which I of course have got rid of. Hoping his enthusiasm levels will rise as the 'due date' gets closer. He is not very 'animated ' in general these days which I can well understand (who can blame him?) and have compassion for because I BLOODY WELL know how it feels ( for the last two plus months!)

Anyway, back to the kits. They have to gain some weight before they can be spayed and neutered. The local SPCA no longer lets any animal out of their care before they've been fixed, which I think is a good thing. They have to wait until the kits are at least 2 lbs before they will be strong enough to undergo surgery. So it will be a number of weeks yet before they come home. Did I mention that already? Oh probably. I'm so thrilled I'm babbling and repeating myself.

So today was a very good one.....

Until I spoke to my brother.

So, if you please, if you can, answer me this:

Why? WHY?!

Why do I always fall into the same trap of my own making? Why do I always attempt, despite the evidence and years of experience to trust my brother and tell him anything about my life, as though he might inquire about how I am, what's going on, why I am where I am and is that ok, or make some positive statement of any kind whatsoever? At. All.

I talked to him on the phone and told him about the kittens, though to be absolutely truthful I only actually mentioned one kitten, intuitively trying to protect myself from his reaction; trying to lessen the load which I sensed was going to come down on me. Intuitively knowing that to tell him would be a mistake...and I did it anyway, more fool me, ( MORE FOOL ME!) Wanting for him to be a part of our happy news news. Wanting him to hear joyfulness in my voice and share it and ...approve. (Why do I need his approval!?) Wanting him to ask if I missed Tashy, and do I feel that it must take two cats to fill the hole in my heart that she left when she went, BIG in my heart as she was. Or laugh and say, "you're mad" or, "you should have been born a farmer", or, "Yegads, I hope you got that vacuum cleaner replaced". Wanting him to be happy for me. Wanting him to understand that I cant fill my house with the pitter- patter of tiny feet other than the four footed kind, and wanting him to fucking GET THAT...Wanting him to know that I need this, and why. I so want him to understand who I am, but he doesnt, or wont. He doesnt want to. Doesnt care to. I just want him to be part of my life as it is, and be .... a part of my life. But he just doesnt want to....

Instead, no surprise, he levelled both barrels at me and let me have it, straight on and head on. So much judgement. So mean. So much criticism. I should have known. I did know.... Of course I knew but I tried anyway.

I was so hurt. I let him rant and then quietly said I had to go. Said goodbye, and rang off. Then I got a vicious, utterly brutal and completely rancid email from him telling me, among other things, that 'normal people' dont require so many pets, that 'normal people' might consider our number of animals 'adequate'. "That 'normal people' might find the the number of pets over the top, and suggested that the pet hair and dander might make 'normal people' not want to come to our house (well the hell with them, then, Goddammit!). That I've been sick so much lately because of my pets (?!?!) That I'm defensive and then (O.M.G!) he asked me if I'm bored with my other pets.... Jesus! Can you believe that? Oh sure, ask your friend next time she's on her second, or third, or whatever pregnancy... "Why are you having another...are you BORED with the first?" Please put on your 3-d glasses on right now and watch her rip your throat out in striking technicolour. Then, THEN, he said he was entitled to his opinion (huh, not wrong there, but I'm likewise entitled to mine) and accused me of hanging up on him. Hello! HELLO!!! I said I had to go. I SAID GOODBYE... in a polite voice even.

I'm gutted. Why dont I ever learn? Why do I bother? Why do I invite him in and let him HURT me. Again and again. It never changes....

He's been really very not nice to me... a lot, in my life. He's been the apple of my eye since he was born and he has resented me, hated me, humiliated me, rejected me, judged me, treated me like absolute shite, and befriended the very people (most certainly 'normal people') who have trampled over me and abused me....Why do I try to engage, and bother to share what's happening for me, what's important to me, what is really good and exciting in my life? Why do I want him to CARE?!

Probably because I'm not a 'normal person'.

More fool me. I should know better.

Fuck him.

These babies.... They are my Mother's Day present, thank you. Thank you very much. If you dont understand that, cant understand that....

Raining Dogs and Kittens...

This time I've completely lost my mind. Having heard, late last week that the local SPCA just took in two tiny kittens, I called, went by to get an application form, picked up two donation tins for the store tills, saw the babies, fell in love, had an argument with B who thinks two is excessive (and he's right) but I fell in love in the way I did with Zeus. In a weird, not being able to sleep, obsessing about it kind of way. I'm not sure that is healthy... Today I went by again to drop off the form and now there are three. Obviously I'm not that cracked up, but now I'm wracked with doubt about taking two.

My gods they are cute. It was the dark tortoise-shell, with the strawberry blond eyelashes who spoke to me, as her orange fuzz-ball brother was snoozing and I didnt want to wake him when I first saw them. Today they were all three awake and bopping around, using their liter box (good babies!) and generally being devastatingly adorable, even if they all needed a bath. I stroked and held each one. Little Ginger boy was the most affectionate, purring like a machine, his soot coloured sister the most aggressive and bold, and little turtle was gentle, soft and curious. She likes having her head rubbed in exactly the same way Tashy did. Their eyes are still blue. It will be a few weeks before they can come home.

What to do?

I've been depressed. I've been sick for a long time, not genuinely sick as in something to really be worried about but just ill off and on which has made me depressed. Am I looking for comfort to fill a hole in my life? I mean, seriously, who really needs 8 pets?

And yet the other side of the coin, as I try to sift through my feelings with a fine tooth laser is that I've been feeling less and less grief about not having children. I think I've let go. I'm in a place of acceptance. Or so I thought. Is this sudden desire to expand the menagerie a way of dealing with that? On the other other hand I feel a rightness when I feel into these kittens, and I can see them here, feel them here already. My doubt may spring from another financial commitment I am taking on for the next, potentially, two decades, but I am mindful of how small my world has become. How I dont expand. How I dont give myself what I need, and maybe, just maybe its time to do that. I havent had a baby in the house since Zeus was a puppy and that was 7 years ago. Old Tashy was the last time I had a tiny kitten.

I guess I do need a baby after all. What matter if he/she/they are four footed!

In other domestic news, B went off island and exchanged the super-duper vacuum cleaner. Lets hope this one works. We're going to need it!

Go on, comment! Tell me just how crazy I am.

What to do With the Problem Child.....?

Last night Teddy bit me. Quite hard, and I sustained a deep puncture wound, and some bruising on the inside of my left wrist.

You wont know this because my other long lamented blog went the way of the dodo bird some time ago, but Tashy's story was on there. My much beloved and ancient 19 1/2 year old cat who was dying of renal failure, 2 years ago now, and not having any fun anymore, had soiled herself, as old people sometimes do. Well I cleaned up my grandmother too, when she needed it at the end, and I cleaned up Tashy-cat, but lordy she hated water. And she was frail, so she must have been uncomfortable as I held her and slowly poured warm water over her, trying to be as gentle as I could. Well she bit me. More to the point, she bit my thumb clear to the bone, and by the morning I knew something was very wrong, so I went to the hospital and was told to go straight onto an antibiotic IV. Inconvenient timing, I told the locum on call, which he responded to by telling me I could go and make a big family dinner, or stay here and keep my arm. The blood poisoning tell-tale red line was well past my elbow at that point. My mother always said that once the line reaches the shoulder, you're dead. So I did the sensible thing and followed Dr.'s orders, and went in every 8 hours for 2 and a 1/2 days for my IV drip. And I'm still here. But you understand that animal bits are something I no longer take in stride with a cavalier attitude, yes? Especially when the outcome was that a few weeks later, I had to make the terrible decision to release Tashy from this mortal coil, which wasnt doing her any good anymore, but which cost me a piece of my heart.

Teddy and I were having a snuggle, and suddenly he growled. Well I'm of the opinion that their teeth are bigger than mine, so they need to know who the leader is at all times, so I got up, took his collar, and said, "Come on T-T, you're going outside for a while". He struggled. This is again uncharacterisic of him, and I pulled harder, very firmly, and then he rounded on me and bit my wrist. HARD.

It bled some. That deep scary black red blood that takes a moment to well up. The kind that tells you: This is deep. I'm still finding blood on the floor, and the location of the bite worried me and set me to thinking that he might have nicked a vein. We went forthwith to the Hospital, me voicing murderous epitaths and striking the fear of God into B, who literally thought he'd have to take Teddy to his father's farm in the morning and shoot him. It was a touch and go thing for a while there.

It was my fault. I know he gets the creeps at night. I was aware of it, and aware that he needs to be handled softly, no matter how rude he is (and he was VERY rude), or I am just teaching him to be afraid of me. The thing is, I'd never tolerate that behaviour with one of my own dogs, and I never get that behaviour either, and I got angry. I was so angry in the car I had decided we had to put that stupid dog down. Our tenant has a child, for goodness sakes. Yet as far as I know he's only ever bitten me. What does that tell you? I must be a horrible person. After all I've done for him, does he hate me, the little shit!?

I've been crying about it off and on all day. I dont trust this animal anymore. I feel abused - as he probably did in that moment. We dont know what gives him the creeps at night, only that maybe B's mother hurt him...when she was drunk. She was drunk a lot. Most of the time, actually.

T has taken a lot of love, patience, and gentle work to get over many of his issues. He's had more of my attention that my own dogs, Xena and Zeus, or B's other dog Willy. We spoil him, coddle him (enable Him?) and it has to stop now. He's been demoted to the bottom of the pack now, and I dont know what to do with this problem child.

Nor do I know what to do with me. When T-T arrived, we thought he was autistic. Seriously. And he'd been traumatised by being in a kennel. He couldnt be left alone so I'd have to take him to work with me. I painted houses at that time. Once he saw me leave around the corner of the house and he literally crawled out of the window where I'd left a 5 inch gap. He was still skin and bones then but know this, he's a very powerful and big dog. The next time, with windows less open and car in the shade, I left his sight, he literally shredded each door panel of my car to bits and pieces.

I've been so proud of our progress, of the happiness I see shining out of his eyes at last, of his willingness and responsiveness. He's happy to stay at home with his siblings now and doesnt worry that we wont be back, because he know we will and he'll get to go run outside with his housemates when we do. He is part of the pack and they all adore him. Finally he is showing His huge intelligence, his acute sensitivity, and his shy affection. It beautiful to watch him open up finally and let us in. To see how happy he is to see us, and the way I feel honoured when he shows his desire to be close, which is rare and usually on his terms. To see him join in the pack and run with them like the wind....its been a long haul, but has been a gorgeous thing to see his healing. This is his home now. And it is a good one. And one sees that he accepts that and knows it, and loves it back.....

Akitas bond with one person, and when that person is gone, they have trouble bonding and may never bond to another human again. Luckily he knew Willy and B since he was a pup, so they were/are the bridge for him to be able to bond again. We took him. When Muriel died. We took him because B's last promise to his dying mother mother was: "I'll take care of Teddy, Mum. Dont worry." Who can argue with that?

On the one hand I feel that the responsible thing to do would be to book some time with a dog trainer (I'll go with a new one. One I know of who has a very soft approach to her technique, and who has even worked with animal communicators, which is somthing I've considered with this wayward son). On the other hand, I feel like I've paid my damned dues with this dog, thank you Muriel, I've spoiled him rotten, even COOK for him and I am disinclined, now, to give him anything more. Not if he's going to bite the hand that feeds him. Yet he's the foster child with a sad childhood, and big issues. You dont give up on that. And Yet still, I feel I've done my best and he's still blocking me out....Maybe I'm the problem child....

I show him my bandaged arm and he looks away, lies down. He knows. He comes to sit by me and I tell him 'Off!" I dont want him near me right now. My arm throbs when I look at him. It isnt business as usual. How does a human tell an animal they're sorry? How does a human, who goes by the book when it comes to dog training (I'm considered very good) not find it in herself to actually LISTEN to the individual needs of that animal, allow intuition to provide information, and run instead rough shod over his old emotional hurts. How is it that my inborn skills with animal behaviour and psychology, with dogs, have made me blind to approaching him as HE needs to be approached. Is it my arrogance?

How does an animal say sorry? Business as usual? I dont know. I only hope that in that moment he must have been frightened for his safety, or he wouldnt have done it. I wasnt THAT hard with him. I saw him panic, I actually did, and I didnt listen to him. I should have released him, but I wanted the dog to obey me. He needed me to listen to his fear (Of me, of something triggering the past, of his night time creeps?) and change tactics to jolly him into doing what I wanted in a soft way. I needed him to smarten up and listen to ME.

Maybe I failed this one.I got it wrong.

What the hell did B's mother Do to him?!!!

In related news, they put me on yet another course of anti-biotics at the hospital. I went to my GP (Dr. Wonderful) today to confirm meds with him and he said all the right things, and said I'd done all the right things, but if my sinuses dont clear up in a week or so, he wants me to have them x-rayed.

Is that like having my head examined? Would probably be a good thing. Who in their right mind even has four dogs? Maybe they'll see, written in impacted and multihued snot, "crazy woman, too many dogs, off with her head!" Huh.

I'm feeling very wobbly now. Sad, embarassed. Remorseful, angry, vulnerable. Feel weepy still. I cried in the car today. I havent cried since last fall when we got robbed, and I told my mother about it. I am Tired. Very, Very tired.

If anyone has any to spare, I could use some good thoughts sent my way right about now.....Please and thank you....

Domestic Demons from Hell

A few posts ago I was waxing lyrical about the vacuum cleaner I had planned to buy. Signed, sealed and delivered, it lasted 20 minutes before something died. Lovely. $300.00 (including ferry costs to get off the Island) and the damned thing had to be emptied rather a lot, and then the carpet spinning brush thingy choked. And so did I.

Mercifully, it still had great suction, which allowed me to attach one of the spiffy attachments for bare floors and also to deal with the frighteneing great billows of cobwebs. BUT NOT THE CARPETS. No. The main place where dog hair sticks and builds up...

After some investigation (really, this machine is completely disassemleable -not a real word, I know, but so what - and all the parts are totally washable. Very cool.) I discovered the belt had broken. Strange.... I had envisioned the building of a solid and long term relationship here, and this gave me pause. But I'm trying hard to be positive about all things. So I gave it the benefit of the doubt.

All sweetness and Light, I called (long distance) to the retailer and told them my dilemma, telling them that the belt had snapped after 20 minutes use. I suggested that they send me two as a courtesy, but only one arrived in the mail today.

Very excited, I swivelled locks and clicked bits apart, and put the belt on. Clicked, swivveled, put everything back together, Voila! simple as pie. Turn it on. Suction but no spin.

Give me strength. I'll have to go off Island again (another Ferry fee) and exchange it.

Is this a conspiracy?

Stretching Myself... too Damned Far

I've been sick lately... for a long time. I dont feel like doing anything. Dont feel like writing much. Dont feel like working, and have made myself go into the garden and get some stuff done, which is finally making me feel better. It looks pretty.

Finally gave in and went to the doctor 2 weeks ago, who said I have a systemic infection (ears, lungs, digestive tract, throat, sinuses....Eew); put me on antibiotics (which I loathe, but hey, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do) after my not-flu flu went insane and tried to kill me. Okay, I'm exaggerating, but seriously folks, 8 weeks is just too much. I got things under control just before the bronchitis turned into pneumonia, and was ordered off work for 5 days. The silver lining. I got to sit around and watch soaps whilst I ate metaphoric bon-bons. I slept a lot. Doctor's orders. Who am I to argue with a diagnosis of, "You've been pushing too hard and not taking care of yourself, you nit-wit, and now you have to sit on your arse and be good to yourslf with rest".

Seriously, Dr. Wonderful would never say that. He's the soul of compassion and thoroughness with just the right amount of information (a lot without actually pontificating in latin), and frankly, I adore him.

Meanwhile, I am on the horns of a dilemma. Back at work now, I'm finding my Spirits somewhat dampened by the constant sick and tired, I'm faced with making shite pay for retail slave labour, and alternatively, pushing like crazy at the plumb job I have with faux finishing, which wont be endless, so, in other words, I have a decision to make. Do I splash out and cut my hours at the retail facory and try to beat the bushes and drum up more work which actually respects my skills and pays me for them, or do I stay safe, and make crap pay, trying to do BOTH and thereby exhaust myself? Seems like a no-brainer, right? Not so easy....But I have to start thinking of me. I cant bloody afford to work there, truth be told. I got a small raise, but slave wages are still slave wages.

I feel guilty, isnt that silly? For being sick and letting things slide, so to make up for it I've been jumping back in with both feet every time I feel better, and working 6 to 7 days a week. No wonder I kept relapsing. Self inflicted wounds do not get a sympathy vote. Huh.

But here's the thing: I do not know how to say no. I worked an extra shift yesterday, when I was tired out and needed to rest, as a favour to a co-worker who was moving. Today I agreed to go to a dinner for another co-worker who is leaving. And I just dont wanna. I'm tired, dammit. I think I'll go to the company do, and then beg off for the drinks and dinner thing. I just dont have it in me.

What I need is a holiday. Its been about 7 years since I had one. I'm bone weary, and feel like I have CFS again.

Pah! If you dont have anything nice to say, dont say anything at all... now you know why I havent been writing much lately. I hate sounding like a misery....

Count all the "dont's " and "haven't's " in this post. Disgusting! Little Miss negative.

Off to See the Wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz.....

Greetings fellow blogsters! Long time no write. I've been remiss, and have little time right now but am going to give you a quick update. Aren't you thrilled?

Its been a month of dragging my heels fighting a not-flu flu which migrated from body region to body region. Not sick enough to be sick and not well enough to be well. Exhaustion. One week I was intestinally challenged, the next week I was coughing all night with a weird dry cough that had nothing to do with congestion in my lungs. Post nasal drip sucks.( Oh, I'm just so hilarious.) Then I felt okay for a day or two and then I'd relapse. I wont bore you with all the gory details. Suffice it to say, after being ill for so long I might have expected my body to have shed a few pounds, as a slender silver lining, but no such luck. My appetite didn't get sick. It was voracious, my body demanding fuel to fight the lurgy.

A side effect was that I've been depressed. I don't think I've felt actual sadness, as such, but I've been a slob and a sloth, lethargic and unmotivated. Bursts of misdirected anger. Feelings of huge resistance to everything. The inner judge has been loud. All symptoms of depression (or adolescence, and we can have a dialogue about that if you like, so long as its funny...it might make a good conversation.)

Tomorrow we have an exciting plan. (I hear the song in my head, dippy and silly, "We're OFF to see the WIZARD..." I'm SO excited!) We are going off island to buy a vacuum cleaner. Now this might sound slightly mundane, if not in fact inane, but you have to put things in context. For one thing, we hardly ever leave the Island (why would we?!) And for another,my ancient (20 + years) vacuum has bit the proverbial dust, pun intended. The sound effects were amazing: Rhuuuur! Rhuuur! Rhuuur...ppppthththtthpt! Huuuuhghghghg. Ugh. Pthththtt. Nothing.....The smell was frightening. Charred plastic and slow roasted dust, marinated in worn out parts, or vice versa. Poor thing died a slow and choking death, over a matter of years to be sure, but the last few weeks it went downhill fast. A familiar story.... not unlike Vaudeville. With 2 cats and 4 dogs, all of whom shed like they invented it, the sheer amount of animal hair in my house could be woven and knitted quite literally into dog hair blankets that might warm the population of a middling sized community in the Himalayas, or Siberia, even. Cobwebs hang from the ceilings in waving swathes, quite rude, if you ask me... Dust bunnies the size of hyenas, with a similar malevolent presence gather like their proverbial pack in the corners of the hallways, the rooms, under the bed, behind the couches (dont for Godsakes look back there!) and they move softly too and fro in the breeze when a door opens, quite like a stalking predator. I worry that one (or the lot of them) will take it into their hairy heads to choke me in my sleep. Visions of being suffocated by a van sized dust bunny.. it sits on the end of the bed, watching me sleep, biding its time until it senses the right moment to strike.

Yegads! Move over Stephen King! :)

Tomorrow we'll go to Canadian Tire and get "The Shark" vacuum, which seems to be a Dyson knock-off. (I'm a big believer in knock off's these days. I got myself some pretty purple knock off Crock clogs the other day for 7 dollars. I call them my 'Crock offs'). This hoover is highly recommended for animal hair. I am sure I could write a testimonial and get myself my own very personal (and probaby embarassing) tv commercial. I just cant wait. Have you ever been excited about getting a cleaning implement? Its weird. Gross almost. Kind of surreal. And utterly uncharacteristic of me, but that only underscores the point of how desperate I am.

I cant even remember what a clean house looks or feels like. But I will know soon. Woo-hoo!

Meanwhile, the faux finishing goes well. The owner lost one of her little dogs to a car the other week and when I arrived on Tuesday, after having been away sick for so long, I brought her a dwarf red rose bush in Ruby's memory, and a card. As soon as she saw it her face crumpled and I just threw my arms around her. She cried. We both did. That was a fine little dog. She was. You cant understand what it feels like unless you have a dog. They live in your heart, you see, almost as deeply as a child, and when they go, a piece of your heart goes with them. Having your heart torn out hurts....You cant understand how people dont get it that when you experience a loss like that it is very real. I have a feeling that she hadnt gotten a lot of understanding lately for her sadness, and I just cried with her, knowing what I will one day feel when I lose my own dogs.

Meanwhile, the garden is waking up, but late. Things are filling out with green, but its still quite unseasonably cold and I worry about the crops and the bees. The fruit trees are all bursting into bloom and hardly anyone has seen a single solitary bee. Its been too cold and wet. I worry that the crops wont be pollinated before the blooms are blown to bits by the mercurial weather (WHY is Winter hanging on so hard this year?) and that our produce will be damned to an infertile season.

In other news, back to the off-island obsession, I have been scouring the SPCA's online photo galleries and have set my sights on a young boy cat. He is named Tommy and is 6 months old, orange and white with a look that says, "I am here!" and which makes you take notice. I'd like a very wee baby, frankly...oh, wait a minnit...What's that? You have something to say? You think I have too many animals and that I am certifiably, completely and unquestionably crazy?! Nuts to that. Huh, took you long enough to figure that out. And might I just ask, what is your point? All of the beasties are getting on, you know. The youngest, Dolly, is 5 and I'm hankering for a baby. Zeus was my last baby and he's seven. Its time, okay? Pushkin is 13 now and when he goes, Dolly will need to have a friend by her side. So we need to think about that.

I havent decided if Tommy is our cat or not, but my hidden agenda is to convince B to take a swing by the SPCA so we can have a looksee. Dont know yet if they are open on a Sunday. Or if B will be convinced. He says he'll come with me to the local SPCA on Tuesday, but I dont know that thewy have any kittens....

Meanwhile, B is taking the dogs to the ravine as I write and I have to get ready because we are going to Dad and Kathleen's for dinner. He's been ill and has walking pneumonia, which is rather a serious concern at his age ( he's 82 and kickes the ass out of any statistic you might care to throw out), so why he thinks hosting us is a good idea right now, I dont know. But he says he's much better since I brought him a basket of food and home-made chicken soup early in the week. Kathleen was away in Oregon and he wasnt eating. Gods, my heart nearly dropped out when I heard. And there's nothing worse than cooking for yourself when you feel like shit, is there? Anyway, Dad says he's on the mend and we'll have his famous pot-roast and chat and play crib, no doubt. A nice evening.

Thanks for listening. Its been a while since I vented and having your ears does me good. Hope all of you are well out there in blogland.

Love, Bird.

Sunny day...

For a change. :)

People get giddy this time of year when the sun comes out. Understandable when we've had nearly non-stop rain since November. Everyone was cheerful at work and I tried valiantly to meet cheerful with happy, and although I'm not unhappy, as such, I am trying to hold The Lurgy at bay. So far moderately successfully, downing massive amounts of vitamins, but I can feel it creeping in. Ugh. I DONT want to get sick!

I should be taking advantage of the longer days and today's sunshine to take the dogs to the ravine this evening, but after a long day at work, and feeling kind of crappy and dizzy, I hardly have the energy. I spent the last three days on the couch, except for running the dogs yesterday ( when they had a great run and had squillions of fun, snarfing around, bareling full till up hill and down dale, jumping over logs and swimming in the creek, digging great wholloping holes in the path for which I had to reprimand them, and generally carrying on like happy wolves in dogs clothing, which of course they are, at heart), so I expect they will forgive me. They are playing outside in the yard now. Enjoying the late afternoon sun.

I dont know if it is the bug I am fighting or the change in climate/daylight but I've been lethargic lately. Physically and emotionally. And I cannot say either that I've been depressed, but the 'internal dialogue' which we all have in our heads has been particularly loud of late, and that wears me down. Sometimes the noise is such a cacophany that I become overwhelmed. Hearing voices? Maybe I'm crazy.....

I rationalise this by telling myself that I have many aspects to my Self, and right now they are all trying to be heard all at once, so I cant hear a damned thing, let alone hear myself think. Sometimes I shout at them, "Who are you?! What do you want from me?! What do you want me to do?!" Sometimes I talk to them softly, and say, "Just give me some space, please, so I can get this and that done, and then you can have the last word".

I've often wondered what it would be like to have multiple personalities. I think we all have a touch of this. Some of us are more border-line than others. It would make my life so much easier if I could identify the conversations, the running commentary and be able to label them, put them in a safe box and hear them out, one by one. Name them. Understand the bits of myself that need to be heard, that need to be understood or that need to come out of the shadows into the light. It would help to be able to confidently say: This opinion comes from the 'observer', this one comes from the 'judgmental bitch' that one comes from the one who worries all the time; this one is a frightened person, young, and she's lonely, while that one over there, very quiet today, says that things always work out, there IS a Plan at work, and we are moving forward in our evolution as a species, and there is beauty and HOPE everywhere, if we look for it. Probably HER name is Pollyanna...

Mental health is so fragile. We can be on top of the world one minute and slip off the edge in another, hardly knowing how it happened. I'm not falling off the edge, but feel rather like I'm sitting right on it, at the moment, with the sharp edge staring me in the face. And I dont know why. Is it because things are okay? Too okay? Is that it? Am I so used to drama, trauma, and struggle that coasting for a while, and the euphoria I feel, the well-being I experience with a daily rhythm which makes sense and works well doesnt give my brain the "I'm terrified' chemicals it is used to, so I somehow manufacture anxiety to feed that addiction?

Comfort, constancy and normalcy, the sense that all is unfolding gently as it should is a foreign experience to me. I fear complacency. Because usually, in my experience, just when you get settled, all hell breaks loose and the excrement hits the rotating blades. I mistrust happiness. How warped is that?! And yet I am reminded of what my step father used to say, bless him, he said, "Let the shit hit the fan... it makes good fertilizer". yeah, thanks dad! :)

I have been having heart palpitations and shortness of breath. It isnt my heart, I'm pretty sure of that. Could be I've been smoking less (a lot less as I am not 100% well), and my body is going, "Hey, where's my fix?" and offering symptoms to indicate its temper tantrum. It feels like the onset of an anxiety attack, but never goes there. Which might help, even, since after the horrible and frightening experience of freaking out (and inevitably there is the point where one feels for absolute certain that one is going to die - you will know this is true if you've ever experinced it, and if you havent, let me tell you, it ain't fun) . Usually I crash afterward, and dont worry about anything anymore. I'm too tired to. The calm after the storm. I havent had a full blown anxiety attack in years, but this feeling, this sense of anxiousness, these days this can last hours at a time.

I'm still taking my happy pills, but havent taken any anti-anxiety pills in over a month, and nor have I taken sleeping pills in 6 months (which I only ever took as a last ditch desperate resort anyway, prefering Nyquill,or gravol, limiting myself to two or at most three, of any of the above, nights a month). Time for a chat with Dr. wonderful, perhaps?

I'm not sleeping well. I've mentioned that already, I know. I'm repeating myself, sorry. Sleep deprivation is something I dont deal with in a good way. It just makes me totally crazy. Quite literally. Emotional, wobbly and irritable. Paranoid even. So maybe I'm just run down and sleep deprived. Maybe the noise in my head is about some stuff, inner garbage, old baggage that is rearing its ugly head so it can be released. It has to come out somehowm, Goddammit. I know that right now I'm relatively stable ( reality being relative) so its an opportunity for the crap to come out. Maybe its an old anniversary I've forgotten.... I was sent to an Aunt in Newfoundland for temporary fostering probably close to this time of year when I was about 4 and 1/2 or 5, or maybe its a miscarriage. One of the three. I cant remember when they happened... Blocked them out... but last night I dreamt I had a miscarriage. I just know something's going on and I cant connect to it, give it a NAME, reason through it, or rationalise it away. It is happening and I just have to trust the process and ride the wave. There is something percolating, bubbles rising, and when they burst at the surface, I expect a word, or a picture/memory or a REASON to be born into the air, to be expressed into consciousness... something, tangible, on the lips of the mouth that whispers in my ear, "Something is going on...". But no....

Meanwhile. Spring is making herself known day by day and warming the earth. Softly softly. The baby little plants are beginning to stick their fragile tiny fronds gently out of the ground, so tentatively, and buds are forming on trees, unfurling just ever so slightly to make that inimitable Springtime green peach-fuzz haze... almost there, but not quite yet. My forsythia is blooming and the crocuses are up; daffodils are putting up their long, spiky leaves, but not ready to bloom. Like me maybe? The clematis didnt die after all but is putting out a huge cluster of shoots, as is the honeysuckle, prolific and mad with winding up the wire fence surrounding the veggie garden; although it seems the trumpet vine went the way of Vaudeville..... sadly. The deer didnt help with their brutal 'pruning' last summer.

The idea though, the dream of green, is at hand, and we all know by now that ideas make our reality. Our thoughts can and do shape our reality. We know this. That which we hold in our thoughts and dreams, is that which we manifest....

Are the trees thinking of Spring? Are my poppies thinking, "Right, days are longer so its time to send up those leaves"...? Are the wild roses, still asleep, dreaming of sunny days as the nutrients slowly are drawn through their roots, into their sap, bringing the message that its time to wake up and make flower buds? Do we all grow instinctively, like this? Maybe that is what sets us apart from plants and animals, ultimately.... the need to understand the process and to know why. The need to measure it, to mark it. To know, be aware of HOW to do it. To choose how to do it.

Frankly, I dont know how.

In shaping my own reality I know my attention to things, and my perspective is everything. I can chose what colour my lenses are. I can chose rose coloured glasses, or not. I can choose green or grey or black. I am noticing more and more that when I do that, when I look at things a certain way and set/choose my 'intent' my life opens up. 'Coincidental' events seem to bring opportunities to make me happy. 'Coincidence' seems to conspire with sweet Serendipity and I make connections, with people, with events, with my conversation with Life. 'When I change the way I look at things, the things I look at change....' I know all these things in my head and am working with them consciously, and with a lot of attention and effort. Why then do I feel like a bag is over my head and I am walking blind?

I went into the studio the other day, and left soon after, noticing the mess, and feeling resentful about it. Not all of it is my mess. Some of it belongs to the renovation and its materials being stored there. Not using the space for that reason is a pitiful excuse. Maybe that is what this flatline feeling is about. Guilt. Every day I don't do something in the studio, I feel guilty. (AHA! THAT'S the internal judge, jury and executioner, right there! That's good. I named that one.)

At the end of the day, I suppose, the best thing to do is accept that there is a process at work here, an internal process that has no words to offer me, and one that I cannot name. No explanation. I have to trust that the Process itself knows, like a tree waking up, what it is doing, and it is going about its business as it is meant to.

I feel strongly that I need to have a conversation with Life. A dialogue. A living, breathing give-and-take. I need to know why. And likewise, I need to have words so I can box up an experience and tell myself, "This is what this thing is" and make it safe for myself. Or at least understood. Contain it.

I am not getting the feedback I need here, and I'm feeling lost and afraid. I have no words to rationalise this. Maybe that's why my head is so full of them, clamouring, tumbling over each other, like a river of words, tumbling over stones, rushing over me. Its not that I am not listening, is it? Are all of the scattered bits of me, floating out on the ethers, buffeted by the winds, lost in some vortex of Gods know what, crying to be called back to me, to come back Home? I miss them, need them as I know they need me, to be whole. I'm trying, I am, but I dont know how to contain them, how to hold them, protect them, hear them all.

But just maybe, perhaps, the words jangling around inside my head ARE the conversation this process is trying to have with me, to tell me that the lost pieces of my Self are finding their way back to me, back Home, bit by bit, little by little; and they all have something to say about it, but I cant decipher their feelings and thoughts. I cant understand what they are saying...... not....

Yet.

Soon. Maybe.

I hope.....

Fatigued and Dazed....

Thursday:

I am very tired. Sleep deprivation. Good thing I'm not a mother. I hardly can imagine how new parents manage on lack of sleep. I'd be terrible.

It happens every year. Twice a year in fact. When the light changes, I get tired. My body slips easily into the gentle rhythm of a slower way of being in Winter, as my brain struggles to keep up the usual frenetic pace. In Spring, as it is now approaching, I try to reboot, but end up losing sleep. My brain wakes up but my body falls behind, reluctant to emerge from hybernation.

It began to get light at 6 this morning. What was I doing up, you ask? After being awakened at midnight, and floppng on the couch (B was fast asleep on the other couch having nodded off during a DVD we were watching), I couldnt get back to sleep and flipped channels for a while. Dozed. Was rudely awakened at 3 by his Lordship Pushkin, who decided that his OWN pillow would simply not do, and that MY pillow, indeed, my HEAD would make a better bed. Thanks, little ratbag!

I was irked enough to deposit him firmly, and consequently on his own pillow, which overlapped mine, you should know, so maybe he was confused about which one was his? No, He was very certain about my head being the better place to recline and drain the very heat from my body, whilst covering my face with long hair and, to add rudeness the affront, tap my head with his claws to demand that I make room for him.

More channel flipping. Then I dozed, with weird dreams until 5. Sought relevant news and was disgusted by the cheerful and chirpy, 1/2 clad BIMBOS who pretend to offer hard news, whilst SMILING as they tell us about terrible things.

Give me strength.

Today, needless to say, was a struggle, but I got to work early, always said, "I'm very well indeed, and how are you?" *bright smile* and wanted to fall down and hide in the cupboards below the counters to sleep. I did sleep, in fact, in a series of micro cat naps, during my lunch hour. No kidding.

Its past 9pm now and I've only just put dinner in the oven. I want to sleep for a week (or a month) and wake up to a world where war is considered in poor taste, and just isnt done, and is in fact considered bad management, and criminnal and the consequences of bad management are a trip to jail forthwith, do not pass 'GO', do not collect $200.-; where poverty no longer exists because money grows on trees. A land where doing what one loves is appreciated, and where children are safe.

Friday:

Main Entry: ec·cen·tric
Pronunciation: ik-'sen-trik, ek-
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Medieval Latin eccentricus, from Greek ekkentros, from ex out of + kentron center

1 a : deviating from an established or usual pattern or style
b : deviating from conventional or accepted usage or conduct especially in odd or whimsical ways
2 a : deviating from a circular path; especially : ELLIPTICAL 1 b : located elsewhere than at the geometrical center; also : having the axis or support so located
synonym see STRANGE

* * * * * *

I am even more tired today, if that is at all possible, than I was yesterday. On Sunday I plan to sleep all day. My arse will not leave the couch. Except to run the dogs. How exciting.

In other news I found out that the breast groper IS in fact, 'like that' and IS, in fact, a really nice guy. He means nothing by his touchy-feeliness, and I am willing to concede that breast-contact was accidental. The next occasion of having to serve him was met by me with full emotional armour, and that in no way deterred the hand on the shoulder, the rubbing of my back, in a very childlike way. Moreover, I learned that he and his wife just buy people presents now and then, because. Because they can. He's an eccentric millionaire who has a thing with connecting with people in a tactile way. I dont think its a fetish. I think he's an innocent. So I'll get over myself, and think about my city-girl armour, and what it means to live on a small island with people who are odd.

Heaven knows, I'm odd enough myself.

Flipping flea

Long time no Post.

I found a flea IN MY SOCK today. Yegads. Mild winters are not always all they are cracked up to be. Time to get flea drops again. Like ASAP. And you know where the goddam flea population is coming from? I'll tell you. From the rats.

Apparently the rat population (mild winters, what did I say? Definite down side...) has quadrupled in the last two years. Lovely.

Other than that, I've been working 6 days a week. Loving the faux finishing, but feeling tired.I'm treating us to a pot roast tonight, and the house, if not sparkling and shiny, is at least relatively devoid of chaos. A Very Good Thing, said Pooh.

Last week I had a day from hell during which I was insulted, annoyed, breast groped and dismissed. On 4 separate occasions.

Nut shell version. Some guy flipped the edge of my vest to, ostensibly, better view my name tag, but pressing against my breast was what he did. I dont know him. Told the manager, and (the dismissal) "Oh he's just like that, he's actually really nice, just tactile and huggy'. Right. Later she said if it happens again I should let her know and I said, with a smile, "NO, I dont think I'll bother, because if he tries that again I'll take his nice hand off at the wrist". Thank you. Thank you very much.

And then I was irked at the till by the general handy man for the place who proceeded to use my phone (to conduct his own sideline business), which doesnt allow me to serve the customers I am hired to serve. ARGH!

So feeling already like a piece of groped meat, and having been told, as I was told as a child I'm WRONG to think I was touched inappropriately, and had my space invaded by jerkola, a guy comes in whom I've painted for in the past, and says, "So, you're selling paint now? haha. You like selling paint do you? The paint seller...haha" Laughing at me and acting as though the mighty had fallen SO far and he wasnt going to let me forget it. Bastard coke-head.

I can laugh about it now, but it really upset me at the time. The other thing that really turns my stomach and isnt funny at all is this:

A woman at work is leaving the island (her good luck/ going away gathering was held this evening) to move across the continent to Michigan to live with her on-line lover. Okay folks, seriously! She has a son. She's never met the on-line guy except on net-camera, and she's taking her boy with her, without a working Visa ("I dont need one, we're planning a family right away, so I wont be working") and no health care insurance. Jesus God wept. She's just lost her mother to cancer, and now she's running into the arms of a man who was turned away at the Canadian border.... she's getting on a bus, her little boy in tow, on Wednesday. I dont especially like her, nor do I dislike her. But I would not want to see ANYONE make such a scary choice. Such a final and detrimental, potentially dangerous move.I have a bad feeling about this.

Meanwhile, the good news is that B and I are busy with working on the principles of abundance and positive thinking. Everything from Wayne Dyer to 'The Secret' (law of attraction) and 'what the bleep, down the rabbit hole'. Haven't progressed to Depak Chopra yet, but I was watching a programme on John of God in Brazil and B said it put in him a state of such positive head space and openness that the day seemed to just flow and everything fell into place.

Things are shifting. For the first time in my life I seem to have a partner who suddenly ( well more and more over the last year) is on the same page as I am. We are making changes on a fundamental emotional and spiritual level, and things are coming out of that which are all good. We are in a really good place with one another.

Gods, I love him! :)

Pot roast is in the oven. Smells heavenly. I'm about to chop some kindling and will make a nice cozy fire. Swinin' standards are playing on satellite, and it looks like a good evening in the making.

Hope everyone out there in the big world is well...

Does it Get Better than This?!

I am doing one of those jobs right now that dont come along every day. Faux finishing is one of my great loves. I'm good at it. I've been doing it for about 15 years now. It is labour intensive, most of the time, and pays well. Coming from a client who, according to the site manager, is never completely happy with anything, I nearly jumped with euphoria when I heard the words today, "It's amazing. Better than I had envisioned. Its perfect! I love it!" High praise indeed. For doing something I absolutely love. I'm all charged up and full of creative inspiration. Its like a window opened inside me and let the sun in. Gods, I wish I could do this every day of my life!

I went to the Doctor's today to renew my 'script, and he was frankly amazed that I am working 6 days a week at the moment, and loving both jobs.... He asked me, having known that I was struggling at my other job, and I told him quite candidly that I cahnged my mind. I change 'the way I looked at things, and the things I looked at changed..." I said that I used to be an expert in my field. I used to teach. I used to run a business, and I had felt like a failure, as a 'lowly till jockey'.... but then I changed my attitude. It isnt about the money, obviously, because I can barely afford to work at the General Store, the pay is so shite. It isnt about the work either. No. Its about the people. Its about contributing and being valued. Its about making people happy. Making them smile. That's my job. The staff, the customers, the feeling I have of being connected to the community now is what makes it great. And that's why I love it.

He said that he was amazed. That 3 months ago my life was such a different picture and he was really impressed with my incredibly rational and determined choice to see things in a way that was healthy to me.

I got some high praise today from two people I respect a lot, and that feels really good. :)

Meanwhile, its one of those gentle evenings with a mild rain. The feel of it makes me think it heralds Spring, but maybe its a tease. But I dont know. Mother Nature knows best...The buds on my Forsythia are sprouting and they seem to think Spring is on her way. I need to stop and notice these things. I need to stop and be aware that my poppies are sending out leaves, and that the soil smells fecund and fertile. I must be conscious of the world turning, shifting and making ready for another season. This year is going to be very different. Why? Because I am. That's why.

I was in a state of somnolent, dragging despondance. But I pushed through it somehow (damn good happy pills I tell you). I've been going full tilt.

An this evening I'm making a soup from the stock I made on Sunday (my only day off these days, which involved the usual domestic bliss of laundry - motherloads of it - and cleaning, shopping, running the dogs, and then flopping in exhaustuion on the couch where I stayed for hours until I had regained enough strength to eat dinner which B made, and crawl to bed). This soup, my darlings, she will be delicious! An Italian recipe I got out of Boulevard Magazine. A bean and veggie soup which I will spice up with Churizo sausage, as I dont have the jalapenos the recipe calls for. Glad I made the stock for the puppies too, with lamb and beef bones, to make their 'haggis'.

Tomorrow I am back at work at the General Store, and although I wish I could do the artsy thing every day, I sense that it will grow, and I'll get more of that work in time. I am holding that 'Intent'. Its coming....All in good time....

Today was a very good day.

And now I'm off to have a nice bath, and a glass of wine. I'll read a best seller pulp novel - one of those semi-esoterical, historical thrillers in the style of the Davinci Code...which has sparked a whole new Genre, it seems. (But let me tell you that Catherine Neville had that genre craked in the eighties, okay? She did it first and better if you ask me. Read her. She's great!) I will stop reading and breathe deeply, now and then, and think, 'what this smells like is... Home...' The soup will bubble slowly and gently, scents filling the house, as it comes, in its own time, as all things come in their own time, to the ready. And then we'll eat. And it will be utterly Yum!

BTW...

Just so you know, dinner the other night, the duck breasts, was to die for. All-star team for sure. :) Some days you have it and some days you dont. You never know. But when you catch the groove, and get into the creative thing, and it works, coming from pure inspiration into material form...damn, but that's a good thing. Utterly yum. I dont know when I've had a better meal in a high-fallootin restaurant, in recent memory. Of course, it helps that we dont have any high-falootin restaurqants on the island, but that's as an aside.... The best rstaurants I know are the kitchens of my brother's and me and B's....

Damn, I'm good!!!

:)

Ennuie..... But Ultimately, its all Good...

The earthquake came and went, apparently, with hardly a blip on the radar screen. A 2point something. I didn't notice and I probably slept though it. Only one earthquake I've ever felt in my life, and that was in Ontario, which is rather rare, but it was very interesting at the time. Small. Not scary.

Work was boring. I didn't even bother trying to spice things up with flashing the security cameras, wearing weird accessories or making silly displays. I didn't sing to the satellite radio (oldies) as I often do when inspired to make things more cheerful. I didn't get upset about it either...though I did wonder if the day would ever bloody end; today was a blanc mange.I stalked the ailes and even the manager apologised to me for things being so slow. "You mustbe so bored...it isnt always like this." "I know, Its okay" . Tomorrow we have a HUGE shipment arriving, and I anticipate it with baited breathe, being run ragged and off my feet with stuff to do looks like a good thing compared to the dreaded pacing of ailes with a duster in my hands. Give me strength.

Huh.

It was so boring I couldn't bring myself to be the quirky and weird freak that I am...I was boring myself. And tired. Exhausted. I was too tired and sore. Painting hurts my body. The last two days did me in, working for my brother on a high-end home/estate. These people have more money than God, and actually pretty good taste. I love the faux finishing, don't get me wrong, and that part was great, but mostly, for the time being, I did regular house painting (trim work, Canukifornia, I'm with you and know you feel my pain). Next week will be the fun part after my brother's crew have prepped everything for me and done the hard part....but man, am I sore. Carpal tunnel. Shoulder impingement injury saying, "Oh SHIT! Not THIS again...!" But there may be a stained glass window commission in this for me so I pretend to be a trouper and work doggedly on. So far trhe owner seems pleased with where I am going with the painting.

Its good money and I cant turn that down. My benefits package came today and next week I should get my card which means full dental, for me and 90% for B, full prescriptions, naturopathic - partially covered, and physio therapy partially covered...good stuff. (In my most wistful moments I wonder if I can push the envelope and get some coverage on fertility treatments but that will take time to investigate, and I am pretty much out out of time here... or very nearly). I'll make enough money to cover the physio, and maybe get my arms and hands in better shape. Meanwhile, with the damp and cold, arthritis is really adding insult to injury.

Whine, Whinge, Whine. Whatever. Its my prerogative.

Xena's foot is healing nicely and she is not longer limping or upset. That's a good thing. We count our blessings. Every day. Ultimately, reality being relative, it all okay. Hope its all okay with all you out there...

Meanwhile, I'm going to have a bath, with bubbles, and a glass of wine, and read a silly fluff book whilst B makes a dinner of rack of lamb, salad and broccoli. B has put on some country music which plays happily in the background. He's a convert now, after balking with large attitude in the early days, guy-like. I know that music is innane sometimes, but it is cheerful, frankly, and having songs mostly about love and life, and sex, and family filling our house rather than angst and oh woe is me, is a relief. I'm not so proud, at my age, to be reluctant to say I'm mellowing....

B and I, after almost 4 years together, have settled, finally, into a gentle rhythm of loving existance and gentle appreciation. We applaud one another our truimphs and support one another through our stresses. We dont pick at one another but rather always focus on the positive, and respect the gains we make, individually and as a couple. Conflict comes rarely and when it builds up, resentment over undiscussed or unresolved stuff,it can be explosive, but is soon resolved with the greatest desire being a need to be kind, and a way to make the other understand, and feel better...We've become best friends, after having bonded through that incredible initial attraction and passion that so often goes no where, or to a bad place. We've always said we are lucky to have found one another, and its true. I thank my lucky stars every single day. Counting blessings makes me able to deal with the every day shite.

Life is just fine, thank you. Thank you very much. :)

The Fat on the Skinny....

Here's the deal.....Sorry to everyone for locking you out of my site. We have family who are travelling right now and I set up another blog specifically to post comments to them and keep in touch as they relate their adventures (I could do with a little bit of Mexico myself right now, who couldnt, but bless them, they deserve it and more power to them. So what if I'm green with envy).

Blogland being what it is combined with my lack of computer nerdness meant that I accidentally posted from THIS site, which as you all know is quite personal. I panicked. I changed the settings and now I've come to the conclusion that after asking them to delete the link to H-bird, either they will respect that and do so or they wont, and I refuse to censure myself. This is my space and you are my friends, and welcome. And if they read this, so be it.

I've begun making a dinner which I hope will make it to the all-star team. Breasts of duck, flash-braised in the pan to crisp the skin, then added red wine and orange juice, churizo, tomato slices and garlic; now baking in the oven. Accompanying the duck will be asparagus, which was on sale, and slices of baked squash drizzled with walnut oil, walnuts and a bit of maple syrup, with a plain salad on the side.

I have a fire going in the wood stove, swing/jazz classics on in the background (sing it Ella!!!), which I love. I feel like I am in a black and white movie from the fourties.... Silly sentimental music with lots of saxophone. Its okay, expected even, to smoke and have a cocktail or two before dinner, changing out of painters garb and into a long slinky gown, cut on the bias, which will not show the spare tires I have round my middle. Not in THIS movie! I wait for my man to arrive, and the stage is set. (Yegads!) Anyway, to set the scene, you should know that its foggy outside. Very mild and everything is shrouded with that grey diaphenous membrane, shifting here and there. Now you see it now you dont. A very romantic site. A lantern is lit and I feel safe to light it now that the earthquake scare is officially over. Despite not having heard the fat lady sing, I am doing ostrich head in the sand right now and will not think of natural disasters. There are enough disasters going on as it is. I am in a movie of my own making, and it looks cool, baby, real cool. We'll play cards later. Dance the cha-cha...(oh, no, that was the 60's wanst it? )We'll talk about the fact that in the US the State of the Union address was retracted by the White House...is that like saying the President is a big fat Liar?

Huh.

I painted for my brother today, only a 1/2 day and it was good. I feel sore but sense that that is more about being out of shape, and less about being arthritic and having inflamed joints.

B is coming home soon after doing his thing networking and touching base with his guys at the pub. He doesnt know I'm making this dinner. Its a surprise and I hope it turns out. Its a thing I kind of made up as I was ambling through the ailes of the grocery store this afternoon...wish me luck.

It was a good day, y'all. I'm really sorry about the panic privacy thing. I miss your comments and hope to see all of you back tomorrow! I espcially miss Lisa. Hope you're okay Cookie....

And that's me, chewing the fat and giving you the skinny. Ninight, and sleep well.

Phew!

Earthquake alert has passed. A new experience for me. I must say I didn't much care for it.

P.s......

Oh. And....uhm.... did I meantion we are on earthquake alert?

Business as Usual....

Hey All, I'm sitting here not sure what to write. Dont feel like there is a lot to say, but I'll give it a whirl.....Things are okay. Home is good. Simple and basic. Work is fine, although I've been moved to another part of the store which is dead boring, and I try not to go nuts with ennuie. I put my hands on the counters on either side of me, do leg lifts, push ups (not many!) and debate flashing the cameras by pulling up my shirt and exposing my red bra, but pull silly faces at it instead. I straighten the shelves. And, Gods help me.... I dust. Hope that someone will catch me at it, just so that a conversation might happen, but so far no joy.

A few weeks ago, to provide some comic relief for myself, I set up a display on the top of my monitor which consisted of two white plastic doves, arching one over another, seeminlgy in an effort to reach the perfection of an August Rodin sculpture, depicting lovers embracing. Then I put some Christmas ornaments, white feather puffs on long stalks around it, framing the 'lovers' and put a plastic red heart in the middle. White fluffy stuffing, pretending to be snow, with sparkles, as a foundation. White trash tacky at its best. It gave me SUCH a giggle. I was hoping to provide the manager a laugh, but no one noticed! Not even the customers. Now I have a webkinz kitty on my monitor in the hopes that it will soothe the poltergeist that lives within the system, and inevitably follows me to whatever till I am stationed at. So far, its working. A little technical mojo, feng shui, or magic. Call it what you will, but the charm seems to be having the desired effect. Don't argue with me, okay?! There are Ghosts in the Machine, I tell you three times!

A few days later I bought a garland, you know the kind you put on a Christmas tree, like a string of popcorn, or pearls, only in this case it was lavender and purple beads which went off on straggly strings like branches off a tree. I wore it like a very long necklace which fell to nearly my thighs. I though of Coco Chanel, laughing in her grave. She'd have been proud of me. I wonder how many of her designs arose out of mind boggling boredom?

Meanwhile, boredom requires drastic measures to generate some kind of way to break the desperate tedium. What else can I do? Humour is the best medicine. As it turned out, I got a load of compliments on my 'necklace' last Saturday, at B's dad's B-day party, which was a smashing success, B's dad having told me a few days later that the cold he had coming on that night was wiped out by all the fun and excitement and he felt like a million bucks. 83 and going strong, bless him!

B's ex comes into the store. A stalker by nature and a freak of nature, if you ask me. Don't get me wrong, I am a big believer in all kinds of other-worldly things, but when my man's ex gives him her card to offer to ME and says she'd love to do an 'Angel Reading' for me.... Can I just say: Eeugh! And/or Eew! Tell me people, doesn't that seem odd to you? We are not friends. Neither B nor I like or approve of her. Her poor son works at the Store now and he looks so unhappy, even apologised to the manager for his mother being 'such a loser'... He is actually a great kid.

The thing is, she gets fixated on men. Mostly men very much her junior, as in 20 years her junior. Now B isn't THAT much younger than her and they dated a couple of months, until he wised up and managed, though it took a while, to extricate himself; silly sod. Then he met me, months after he had 'let her down easy' and she STILL had not let go. She sent him letters, showed up at his job sites, offered to FIX HIS JEANS.... and she comes into the shop nearly every day. I have to smile and be nice. At first I wanted to kill her. Decapitate her and eviscerate her. Tear her hair out and scratch out her eyes... pull off her fingernails one at a time. Very. sSowly. Because she still wont let go. My gods, woman, you were a blip on the radar screen, get over it!

I know a number of B's exes. Its a small Island. He has good taste. They are nice and lovely women, the few I know, but this one, she STILL wants his energy. She still makes barbed comments to him, she STILL wants something from him, and still tries to engage him and that's what irks me. He's in love with me. We are solid. We are coming onto 4 years of being together, and you'd think by now she'd get it...but no.

Its just really eew. I feel sorry for her but now and again I get angry at her attempts to connect with him. Thank goodness she has found a new object of desire and obsession..... The aforementioned 20 years junior person. Poor young man... he has the grace to be polite to everyone. Including her. Gods, she pisses me off.

Xena's foot which was quite savagely bitten by Zeus (did I mention this?) over a bone presumably, is healing, finally. When she was a year and a 1/2 I got Zeus, at 3 and a 1/2 months old. She bit him when he ran upstairs, within the first hour of them meeting, and after two hours they were in love. They have never been separated......Seriously, to the point that, in tears, I begged a baggage handler to make sure that they were loaded in their crates, in the hold of the plane side by side when we moved out west. "PLEASE DONT SEPARATE THEM!" He looked at me, the handler, through the plate glass window of the waiting area, and gave me a thumbs up sign. I cried. I'm such a wuss. But I was leaving my erstwhile husband at the time so I had an excuse for being wobbly over sentimental shit....

Anyway. Zeus bit Xena, and she had a couple of punctures on her head, and a really nasty laceration on her left fore paw. The vet said not to run her for at least 3 weeks. Bummer. She's been limping and cries when I clean it with antiseptic using the syringe the vet gave me. Today she seems better and the wound is beginning to close as it heals. Thank goodness.

I guess I had a few things to say after all. :)

Hope everyone in blogland is well.

Being Broke Sucks...

Anyone who is freelance knows what I'm saying. Yes I have a part time job, but the pay is crappy, and until Spring, when I'll hopefully be branching out into gardening, my income is fixed and small. B's fluctuates at this time of year, its low season, so we are scrounging.

Its a small detail in the scheme of things but it makes me think of power; personal power and the power that money represents. Security. I notice how we are different with one another when the ebb and flow of that freelance life, the feast and famine thing, is in a good place. We joke around more, which is important since we are not the most jolly types at the best of times. When we are in famine mode, everything goes into a slump. Our outlook, our energy (I spent the last three days, my days off, pretty much doing nothing, for no reason at all. I wasn't depressed as such, but was unmotivated, drained), our sex life, and our ability to GENERATE goes into hibernation. It isn't surprising at this time of year and I suspect we both have a degree of that lack of sunlight syndrome called SAD . Seasonal Affected Disorder. IS it a disorder? Or is it 'normal'? Are we just following the natural rhythm of things, close to the cycles of nature?

Anyway, when we are flush, B is grandiose. I am manic. We do stuff. Not as much as I used to. Not the way I used to with turning my hand at every old and ancient craft I could learn about and get my hands on from quilting, rug hooking to decorating, faux-finish painting and making things, all the time. Whether furniture or stained glass....

I have never been so uncreative for so long a stretch in all my life and I have likewise never been so broke, and so I believe there must be a direct link between being able to access the juice of life within me, to feelings of security being overwhelmed by anxiety, worry and exhaustion.

The happy pills help but my doctor tells me it took me a lifetime to get to where I am and it will take some time to reverse the trend. Turning a ship in the middle of the ocean takes a long time. I know this. I am hopeful and optimistic, however.

I still have no relationship with my studio other than to feel guilt, and make excuses. I am often ashamed of this, looking at all the blessings I have and knowing there are so many people in this world who have less, and are struggling in life..... Not that I'm not struggling but I do have my health.

Still, I am reassuring myself that it will come. It will come with Spring, when that quickening comes, which affects all things. That giddy feeling of being high just because the sun is shining. That feeling that one has, when the buds on trees are ripe and ready to burst into leaf, that life is happening and blood begins to flow more quickly. That a secret word has been whispered into the ears of all living things and they hear it even if they don't know what it says; it is a language we all know. The need to be vital, and grab hold of life. The need to be NOW. The need to create, and the inspiration that motivates that will come. I trust that. I'm just still recovering from the last few years....

I've been thinking about my ex a lot the last few weeks. I don't know why this happens still. In July it will be 5 years since I left. April marks 4 years since I told him I don't want him to visit, after begging him for MONTHS to please come, and receiving repeated refusals, I told him it was over. He told me I had just written his death sentence. Can you believe that?!? And then I met B a month later and the rest is history.

Leaving my ex was traumatic. I still miss him desperately in some ways, because he was a such part of me, my other 1/2. In thinking about him today I realized that he wasn't good for me. I knew this, of course, all those years ago, or I wouldn't have left but my leaving was instinctive. I ran away, out of fear. I really got it today. 4 and 1/2 years later. I am absorbing the pain I couldn't cope with and the reality of my loss and the fact that is it okay. I am so much better off now. I am letting go of the grief. But I also realized, in our co-dependence, that not trying to make a baby was what broke my heart and his not caring about that was a betrayal I can finally admit to, and one I can never forgive. I spent my inheritance, my 'baby fund' , on wedding rings for us, custom made to my design, on a glorious honeymoon to Europe for 2 months, on a wedding (we eloped in Scotland), on supporting us for the next two years supplementing our scant income..... I gave him everything and when I left, I was left destitute, emotionally and materially bankrupt. They say it takes as long as the relationship lasted to get over it...yegads, ten years?! Give me strength. He took everything I had. But most crucially, he stole my dreams for a family.

I've built myself up a lot since then. I've found, by the Goddess's grace, a new and very true love, whom I adore. B. I have a home , a family of four footed beasties, a job, such as it is, and a life. I'm getting connected to the community and people through my work. I'm still rebuilding myself. I'm still in recovery. And I know that the art will come. The creative essence that I need to express, the need to make things, it will come again. When life returns to the land, and Green covers the hills. When the sun shines and the days are stretched out, long and endless as the horizon of the sea that surrounds us. When we have sun-showers and rainbows cradle the sky.....It will come. I trust that.

Meanwhile, I need to hibernate for a while longer.....