Tuesday, January 30, 2007

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.....

Friday, January 26, 2007

Briefly....

Its all good... or mostly anyways. Work is fine. I love people and am enjoying that part of the job. Work was deathly boring today, as it was inventory time and an outside company was brought in to do the slog-work. I twiddled my thumbs, preventing them from getting stuck up my arse, in between times of pleasant engagement with customers. gave the evil eye to one or two who looked not right, shifty, and they left forthwith. I give a good evil eye.

I have had a really good week. Great happy pills, these. What a difference two months can make.

Meanwhile, B's dad's 83rd B-day is arriving at an alarming rate. We've arranged a surprise for him on Saturday. Most of the famdamily will be here, unbeknownst to him - he thinks it is just me and B and him and Kathleen. But no. We will be at least 9 for dinner. Yikes. I will make a Brisket, and roast a bird. What am I saying? I am WORKING TOMORROW. Okay, I will marinate the brisket tonight, and B will get a bird tomorrow which Alan, who has cheffing experience, will help him with. The house is a disaster, but you know what? I don't care. (These pills are great!)

Anyway, there's no major drama to report. I am still not pregnant, nor will I ever be. I grieve. I shove it down and don't think about it, and then I obsess...I stalk the infertility blogs. Life is still marching on. And I am okay, although not getting laid...much.

So now that I've dropped that bomb, I'll exit stage left.....with the charm, elegance and grace I am so famous for (Sagittarius rising I.E. read, blunt, straightforward, bull in a china shop. Never mind...)

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Sunday Blahs....

Not doing much, except long over due house organising. Am tired beyond words. Nothing much to say. Maybe I'll take a nap.....Hope everyone's well.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Shit, shit shit....

Today I heard that one of the people who lives on a boat in the marina, died last night of asphyxiation. Carbon monoxide, from his Kerosene heater. Insufficient ventilation. He passed out, and that was it.....

Later in the day, a customer came in, someone I know as an acquaintance. Someone I like very well. She lives on a boat, with her child. She's had a hard life, is a struggling and very talented artist. She looked like hell warmed over, and I stepped away from my till, purely instinctively, and simply threw my arms around her, the glance we shared as she came in conveying at once that I knew the news, and that she was utterly shattered by it. I hugged her tight, trying to absorb her pain, and tell her with my arms that I felt for her and wanted to take some of her sorrow away, if I could, into myself.

She fairly collapsed into my arms, and shook like a leaf as she told me that last night her neighbour, on his boat, had died, and that she and her son had likewise nearly died of the same problem. If it hadn't been for their carbon monoxide detector they would be as dead as he. Then she said that their dog had been hit by a car 4 days ago, and been killed. I knew they had raised him, and bottle fed him from birth. That often they had eaten oatmeal for days on end, being broke, she and her son, so that they could afford to buy real dog food for their pup. I knew how much they had sacrificed to keep him and make sure he would be healthy and well. He was a great dog. I met him and I tell you this because I know it personally to be true. Some dogs are dogs, and some dogs are people. He was a Mensch.

She lost her neighbour and friend, her dog, and nearly her son and her own life in the last few days.

Jesus Christ. Please say a Prayer for M...She deserves a fucking break.....

I look around me and see my healthy dogs, see myself in a healthy relationship, with a job, and a roof overhead, my cats happy and my STUFF, and am ashamed for every single time I have every complained.

Please say a prayer for M.

As for Delurking Week...Nevermind if it is After the Fact

Go on, people, be bold.... Leave a comment! :)

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Are we Crazy?

The short answer is YES. Snowy roads, dark, looming snow storm notwithstanding, I did really well. Only stalled the car three times, and they were all times when I was starting up, as in going into first, rather than on the open road.

I've only driven standard once before. A lamentable 15 minutes, last summer, which almost included assault and battery, and I didn't speak to my mother the rest of the day . You should know that in my family, she isn't famous for being a great driver anyway. This fact is something she would argue vehemently against, but you should see her drive. Seriously. Note to Self and others: If EVER it seems like a good idea to let your mother teach you to drive her standard car, take a deep breath, step away from the vehicle, take your meds and realise that going to that place would be very very bad. Save yourself.

When we got to my brother's place, I jumped around screaming, "I drove here, I drove here! Woo-hoo! I drove standard!" I was so excited. And it isn't that hard. And then B, God love him, said "You did great, Baby. You drive almost as well as your mother...:) " What a tease....

Dinner was incredible and we all had a SUCH fabulous time! Drank too much, laughed a lot. Took a cab home.

Monday, January 15, 2007

Dreaming of match-making.....

Recovering from another day off, during which I did a lot of not much. Chopped kindling, fought with the wood stove for a bit before it conceded that providing me with a glowing fire and preventing me from freezing to death in my own home was its actual purpose. Seems I've lost my fire starting touch. But in the end, I slew the beast, and made fire. I am Tom Hanks, Wilson.... see me roar!

So I didn't do the house cleaning blitz I intended to do, or the grouting of the bathroom floor which has been waiting for nigh-on two and 1/2 years (what's one more week?!) Neither the last window in the bedroom which is still naked and sans trim work. Nor the last of the trim work in the studio, which continues to be lonely, although I did transfer some boxes of broken crockery into it for future mosaic making. The list is endless. I had a lazy day. I sat on my butt a lot. Tidied the living room, did a few dishes, made the bed, and then thought: whatever. Tomorrow ... tomorrow I can do productive things before I go back to work on Wednesday. Meanwhile, lets see what Sam and Jason are up to on General Hospital..... :) Not to mention that oh-so-perfect Elizabeth.

I'm actually beginning to love my job. Have I mentioned this yet? Learning curve is sloping to a more gentle pitch. For the first time since moving to the Island, I feel as though I am part of the community. Right at the hub of it all. Everyone and their dog (or their dog's dog, in quite a few cases - and we love dogs, and give them treats) comes to our store, which sells everything from hardware, to boating supplies, linens, sporting equipment to paint, furniture to microwave ovens, plumbing and heating to pet supplies and electronics. A real old fashioned General Store. We sell almost everything and almost everyone comes in at some point or another. I am amazed by how many people I know, and how much the job is actually about people and making them happy. Which I love. If everyone who comes through my till leaves with a smile, I've done my job, and I'm happy. So far, I seem to be doing well at that.

The old me who used to teach, and who was great with people is coming back out of her shell. And I like her. She feels good in my skin, and is glad to be back. :) She is the one with confidence who flirts with everyone from the cradle to the grave. I have my favourites, and they know who they are, and if the occcasional nasty old drunkard comes through, or embittered cow who does nothing but complain, I say with and acerbic tone which only a descendant from Austrians can muster, "I'm sure they will be able to help you at the service desk....over THERE!" I.e, dont talk to me like that and piss off, thank you, and have a nice day....

The fellow who was giving me attitude and the cold shoulder the other day made a turn-around and showered me with Bonhomie the following day, going out of his way to be helpful and friendly. Strange man. I cant help but like him. I like most everyone, actually, and its all good.

We have more snow coming and for those of you in North America - on the east coast, and most of you in between - just put your fingers in your ears and say, "La-la-la-la...I cant hear you", for a bit while I whine. I left Ontario for a number of reasons, and winter was one of them. While we have a winter season which is so gentle as to be laughable to most of you, I am sure, I have been able to enjoy the snow we've had, because it tends to go away. Not so much this winter.

We have snow coming tonight, they say. And a wind storm. Enough already.

The good news is that my brother's ex, who has morphed into his 'best friend' (with benefits, and frankly, kids, I don't wanna know! Do they think this information makes things easier for me ?!?) and with whom, and her family, he spent his Christmas holiday, has come for a visit. He left right after Christmas and they did a Russian timing thing, her ancestors having come from the old country, and he's been back a week, and has asked her to come and stay for a while. Yay! I'm not going to make any wise-cracks like I did last time (like, "Oh, just get yourself with child, already, woman!" I was drunk). WHAT are they playing at? They obviously cant bear to be apart for long, cant seem to get on with their lives apart.... Ugh. I just wish they'd slip off and make me an auntie so we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief and start planning a wedding. Not that they'd allow that, they'd fight tooth and nail, probably for years, and by the time the child entered school, maybe they'd come round, the fact of the forgone conclusion being utterly lost on them.

A girl can dream, can she? Gods, I love them.. silly, obstreperous, stubborn, contrary children that they are. Don't they know that Love doesn't grow on trees?! Don't they know that if you find it, you nurture it, hang on to it, make it your first priority in life and make everything else curve around it so that is stays, protected and whole. Because it doesn't happen every day. A love like that. You cant take it for granted, ever. And speaking of which, just so you know, every morning I wake up, no matter how bad my life is, I have a bubble of happiness inside me when I hear B making coffee. I thank my lucky stars every single day of my life for having been blessed with this man, for having the Love we share. I am grateful every day. When I slip slowly from dreamland to wakefulness, I feel my chest expand, my heart open as I hear him puttering around, or feel him lying beside me, still heavy in sleep, his body a warm weight beside me, radiating heat as only a man's body does, inhaling his smell, that warm man smell of HIM, and that singular and unique sense of safe contentment washes over me, saying, 'we are here, together, and It Is Good'....Meanwhile, the cats begin to stir, making 'I want my breakfast" noises.....

That wonderful man, who tells me tonight, he's hilarious, that he's going to teach me to drive standard, in the dark, with snow clouds looming, on the way to dinner...right. Have I told you recently that he drives me nuts? And I love him. Impractical dreamer, who makes his impractical dreams a concrete reality. He makes me a person who tries to be a better person, and every now and then we, together, succeed. We're muddling through, we are, and it is okay.....



We are going over to my brother's for dinner tonight, in a hour, so I'd better finish this and get ready. I cant wait to see her.

I have loved her since she was in utero (this gets a bit strange...). I was actually the one who named her. Our families have been friends since I was a baby. Her older sister and I, who are of an age, shared a crib when we were tiny. And when the new baby was one the way, ten years later (my brother's 'best friend'), I was the one who suggested her name. We all grew up together, sort of like cousins, which makes their relationship oddly incestuous, in a way. It isn't that they were childhood sweethearts or anything. In fact, her sister and I did everything we could to keep them apart, seeing the sparks between them for years and thinking they'd be a disaster just waiting to happen. It was inevitable. Karmic. That was nearly 6 years ago.... and the rest is history as they say.

I cant wait to see them together. They are SO cute. They are so lovely as a couple I just want to smack them upside the head and tell them to get on with it, but they are working things through in their own way... And I have to work with what's right for them, no matter what I think. I just want them to be happy. I just want them to be happy and wish they could do that together. It could happen....

As I said....I can hope, and dream....

I will try soon to figure out how to post some photos of the dogs, with the DT's helpful hints.

Ninight, my Chickadees. Hope all's well with all of you.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Jay.....

Where the hell are you?! We miss you... C. xoxox

Friday, January 12, 2007

Another Day in the Life....

So, you've heard this before, but seriously, B hardly ever went over to P's place to hang out, for ages it seems, and recently, perhaps once a month or maybe twice a month, there has been a reconnection. Coinciding with the hockey season, which isn't part of B's life or interests, but is part of P's, the life-long friend, and it calls for company, apparently. So the upshot is that I've a night on my own with the beasties and blogland. Which is fine by me. Romantic nights with the world covered in a winter wonderland are not uppermost on my mind as I am feeling tired and cranky.

Not that I'm not appreciative. Don't get me wrong. Since mum left B has reclaimed the kitchen and cooks every other day, almost, at least. He's become rather anal about dishes. Who are you and what have you done with my spouse?! I love it. I compete with him by trying to get on top of the laundry, but fail miserably, most of the time...

We are trying to conserve gas, which can go up to $1.20 a litre, and I know they pay way more than that in Europe, but dammit, we have our own wells for Christ sake, so this isn't on.... and having the luxury of the use of my mother's ancient Toyota 4WD station wagon, we've opted for using that, because it will go through any snow or weather, and so B drives me to work and picks me up. I don't trust my geriatric Buick in the newly fallen snow nor my own snow-driving skills. Especially as the barometric pressure swings and the roads become iced over. We've had more snow this winter, since I moved here, and okay, its only been 4 1/2 years, but that's still a baseline to make the eyes go 'pop' at the amount of snow that fell in the last few days.

Jeeze. I'm from Ontario. This is child's-play to me. Or so I think it should be, but mark my words. Snow that falls at sea level is different that any other snow.

Okay, I'm being a drama queen... Whatever. I reserve that right... always.

I'm being vibed-out by someone at work who was formerly kind, helpful and protective. Actually he's been an arse and quite rude. To the point that I've been stranded with customers needing assistance and have not known where to turn to help them. I don't know what to make of it. I think my feelings are a bit hurt. I'm just way too sensitive... its made things a bit icky. I have asked him questions and asked for assistance (which is his job) and been ignored for two days. Shit-le-merde. I totally do not understand what is going on.

Outside it is cold. Not like Ontario cold with a wind-chill factors of minus 27 or 35, but cold to my western adjusted sensibilities... It is only minus 6 or so... That's Celsius for our cousins to the south, and that means is it minus 32 Fahrenheit....something. Freezing, in other words. WAY TOO COLD. Okay go ahead and laugh, but frankly I hate the cold and am obsessed by the weather. All year round. Read my blog and get used to it.

For once the cats wont go outside to do their business. We have icicles and 8 inches of snow; pure and white on the railings of the deck, and on the roads;the trees are all weighed down with their burden of winter wonderland. Fir and Cedar and Balsam, all the conifers are a Christmas trees in a belated white Christmas. Heavy laden. I worry about the hydro lines, frankly. What this means is power outages, again. We ourselves have been lucky so far.

Meanwhile, with B away, Willy has once again gone on walkabout, the little terror. With the acute sensory apparatus of the psychic canine, he determines that his 'very own human' is not here tonight, and he's simply absconded. Bloody hell. Elvis has left the building...again. Plus ca change, plus c'est le meme chose.

Little bugger. I am now in my pyjamas and soft cushy socks, and settled for the night and I am DAMNED if I will go intrepidly into that good night, bundling up with inadequate insulation, to look for a stubborn errant dawg. Thick long johns, or leggings, as you please. Woolen sweaters, the extra socks to combat the holes in boots, the over-coat, the hats and scarf and gloves. Dammit. WHY DOES HE DO THIS TO ME?!

I have on my new jammies, which mum gave me for Christmas. Not that you really want to know, but they are a soft light blue with sparkled metallic threads throughout in a criss-cross pattern. Flannel. Lovely and soft and comfy. Not quite sexy, but nice. Attractive flannels, if there is such a thing. I will damned well not go out into a freezing night of utter cold and arctic snow to look for an errant stubborn, MIA dawg.

How can I be so hard-hearted and why do I say that, I hear you ask? Experience, that's why. Within the hour, I'll have you a bet, he'll be at the gate looking all bashful, forsaken, shamefaced and forlorn, not to mention freezing cold, as though I had bloody-well deliberately abandoned him on an arctic ice floe. As though he had a very good reason to abscond, and just looking me in the eye would let me know...IT WAS MY FAULT.

B's away. William goes on walkabout. You can bank in it. He'll be back when he wants to come back.

Right, okay, you know me too well. If W doesnt turn up soon you know I will be strapping on the boots and over-coat to look for him.... in my gum boots with the holes that will let in the snow and freeze my feet in a wet misery. Little rat-bastard. God love him, if anything happened to him I dont know what I'd do.

Meanwhile...hope all is well with all of you in Blogland.

Sleep well my Chickadees.... :) (Even as I am tramping though the snowy woods looking for a dawg who thinks he might hunt deer, or something, and at his age, ha-bloody-ha - on a Godforsaken, freezing-arse cold night - but who actually knows better... or damned well should!)

Huh!

Tuesday, January 9, 2007

Oh. My. Gods.

It looks like the old iblogs sites have been appropriated by porn sites now.

What the fuck!?

Are they allowed to steal websites like that? Or did Arlo pimp them?

I'm choked.

Monday, January 8, 2007

Rain and Mists of Nostalgia......

Okay, So I'm not a computer genius/magician like the DT, but hey, I figured out how to put a clustermap on my site and I'm so impressed. This stuff is all Greek to me. Or geek, if you'd prefer. Which I'm seriously not, more's the pity becauee I LOVE this stuff. It took me nearly four days to figure out how to make animations in place of names for my blog roll list on my old blog (Reggie's dolphin's leaping joyfully out of the sea was my favourite) and that nearly killed me and my computer (which, not for the firt time, was very close to being flung unceremoniously out the window!) Yegads, save me from technology!

Anyway, the Gnocchi didn't happen last night but hope to make it tonight.

The rain keeps falling. You know this by now. Or you would know this if my old blog hadn't gotten lost in cyberspace for months. (I'll have to set up an alternate blog and link to here, but it will take some time to sort out).

We have two seasons here, on the west coast, in these gentle gulf islands: hot and dry/ cold and wet. And when it rains here, it rains a lot. All the time. The rain has miriad ways of making itself the same and yet different every day. It can be relentless. It can soothe and it can frighten.
It rains in shades of blue and grey and green. Soft washed out colours. Hard shining sheets slanting, buckets and torrents comming down. Textures like the softest, fluffy corded bales of wool, slick silk and hard like grains of sand, pelting down, tearing up the siding on the house and decks. Mercurial. Mists that hover and linger, softly, softly fogging over hollows and clearing into crystaline sharpness only to be plunged into a white wall of cloud again. Heaving, booming rains that come in waves, driven by the wind, pounding on the roof and windows so that it shakes the house; delicate drizzles like the kiss of a fairy wing. Sometimes so subtle it is only the idea of rain, before it falls in earnest. Blue, green, grey....

Before I moved here, departing from the former husband in the big smoking city back east, I was concerned that the rain would make me depressed. Isnt that a laugh?! :) Heaven knows I have enough in life to make me depressed, thank you, dont worry. It isn't the rain. Actually, the rain recalls to me the months I was fostered in Newfoundland with my Aunt. My biofather's baby sister. It rained a lot there.

I don't have many memories of that time. A neighbour's new white puppy, which I went often to visit, being more interested in the dog than the little girl he belonged to. Making sand cakes with small buckets...filling the pail 1/2 full of sand and then shoving a layer of bright green fresh grass on that and then topping the rest of the bucket up with sand. Invert, plop! Lift off pail and VoilĂ : A sand layer cake. Very yum! "Do you want some cake with your pink lemonade?"

I recall my cousins, girl and boy, older than me and my brother, by one year, respectively.... Breakfast; dunking strips of toast with margerine into the yolks of soft boiled eggs. And carnation milk. I guess they don't have cows in Newf. Few memories..... The sound and smells of the sea, and sounds of rain make me happy now. They evoke days of sitting in the attic watching Puff the magic Dragon films, when it rained; eating crepes filled with brown sugar. Before the days of dvd's. Or computers, even. I remember a movie that came out that summer, I think it was that summer, called: "The computer wore tennis shoes".... it was the late 60's. We took the couch and chair cushions off and made them into forts. Play was allowed. But not fighting. If we fought (did we?) or if we were naughty, my aunt's voice would get very quiet, and very clipped. We knew 'that voice' meant trouble. She never hit us. The quiet voice, her disappointment, her sense of consequence was enough. I think I loved her. I must have. Because when I think of her I feel a sense of longing......

At the school recital, or some event, I borrowed my cousin's shoes, because mine were too small and ugly, and wore three pairs of socks so they would fit. They were still too big but I was proud to have such nice shoes, and my legs looked thick in white knee socks with layers underneath, which was okay because I was so skinny. Mostly, I think we had a good time.....

Anyway, the night I first spent there I cried. I was homesick and scared. Barely 5 years old, and in a house of strangers. My Aunt told me to listen to the rain. She told me it was okay to cry. She said to let the rain sing me to sleep. I must have done so, because ever since, the rain's song has been a comfort to me.

After I left, and mum got us back, custody having become moot because the other parent had fled to Saudi Arabia (of all places! What's a Kraut to do THERE?!) I never saw my aunt or my cousins again. I have no idea if they are dead or alive. I think of them from time to time, quite often actually, and wonder if they remember me. Are they well? Are my cousins married, do they have children now? Is my aunt still alive and still doing her pottery? (She was apparently famous in her time, having apprenticed in the Blue Mountain area of Ontario and had an 'accident' in the kiln one day, which became the current famed 'Blue Mountain Pottery' style of slumped and draped glaze sliding down the form, or so I am told. I was told too that she had her own local tv show for a while. I suppose I could find her if I tried....and yet, I am afraid of the past).

The husband of my aunt was a big hairy Kelt, with long sandy reddish hippy hair, and a motorcycle. The day my aunt's brand new VW bug arrived was a day of celebration. The car was called Clementine, which was appropriate because it was bright orange, and round and looked like something ripe and luscious, ready to be eaten. It had that new car smell....We all wanted to ride in her. Uncle's motorcycle was at once relegated to the 'been there done that' insignificance of experiences that pale in comparison to the moment's new shiney toy. I dont actually recall seeing him as my uncle now that I think of it, he was sort of just there sometimes, more or less.... but I do remember riding, at the age of 5, on the back of his bike. Once. It was exciting.

I do not really know if I miss them, or if I miss the idea of them, or just miss the gentle days, and feeling like I was part of a genuine and real family for a while....

I think it would be nice to have cousins again. Probably that means I do miss them.....

Sunday, January 7, 2007

More Good New Year's News.... Happyhappyjoyjoy! :)

Well, guess what?! Having realised that I AM, in fact, totally devastated by the loss of my iblogs archives over the past year, I went and searched Google. And have been searching for the last two hours. For those of you in the same boat, here is what I discovered. Iblogs is a real arse, and yet, Google has us in cyberspace it its cache!

I searched with keywords using my blog site name, the arse-wipe server and the word 'archives', Like so:

chupaflor, ' a day in the life', iblogs, archives

And tickety-boo, a whole score of my pages turned up. Utterly inaccessible, of course as the aforementioned dregs of the derriere is defunct. (Bastards). And yet, intuition being what it has to be when one is as computer illiterate as I am, I pressed the highlit 'cache' button, and lo! and behold! There they were. Months of them. Not all, but months of them, which I copied , and now have to find a way to insert them into a file but they are safely saved in a drafts folder of my mail.

A small triumph. Another bit of New Year's good news!

Mostly the photographs didn't copy, and I am especially choked about that one as I think of Zeus up in a tree, playing 'Hound of Hell', with fiery camera red-eye, making him look like a daemon. You'll remember of course. And I still have that photo in my hard drive, but havent yet learned how to post pics HERE. You might recall the time it took me to learn how to post photos on iblogs. Learning curve was steep!

You know, many native cultures believe that if you take a photograph of something, you capture a bit of its essence. I dont necessarily think that is a bad thing, as I think my own essence is limitless (I'm so modest). But seriously, on a soul level, we are limitless, right, so why would I care if someone has a piece of me? Its like a hologram. Or a drop of water. Each piece is whole unto itself, and yet the entirety isn't diminished at all for having a drop of itself here and there. Its all infinite. A fanciful analogy, maybe but I am sure you get my point. (Actually I think that The DT could explain it more articulately).

And yet, that point being made, I felt somehow that there were pieces of me floating around in cyberspace, or worse yet, gone into the ethers, completely gone. I imagined them lost in space, lonely without me, and without each other....Horrible. Silly, but horrible. (Abandonment issues?!) That's a years' worth of my journal, my thoughts and my experiences. And all of your comments! Okay, so it wont change the tide of life on this planet, and isn't that important in the grand scheme of things, but dammit, it matters to ME! Those are pieces of me/us floating out there, and I'm happy for others to have a look at them, but I want them under my own wing, so to speak. You know? Because words have power, and when I put them out there, I offer them, as a gift, but I when they are stolen from me, I don't like it.

Anyroad, I've got some of them back. Have no idea how to import or transport or teleport them to this blogsite. But they've been brought home. I take comfort from that. They are home, back with me where they belong. Looking rather a lot worse for wear, with keywords being highlighted, and arrows everywhere, and no photos, no background blog template to show them off as they were. An intent. An offer. A place to express myself, and vent....An invitation to a conversation....and a moment of life. Yet, I feel so much happier knowing that they are home.....

Bloody, Bloody bastards, those iblogs. Yeah, so it was free, but you don't give someone a home, let them get settled in for over a year, make friends and form bonds, and then say, "Ooops. You cant have that now, piss off". And now we can't even contact them and tell them how annoying this all is?! Or ask them what can be done about it. I still hope against hope that the site will come up again so I can retrieve the rest of my lost stories. Particularly, 'Muriel and the Christmas cactus', which meant a lot to me. And to her, I'm sure, dead though she is.....

So aside from that little achievement which nearly made my eyes cross in frustration whilst searching and figuring things out, Sunday was lovely. Mostly, or totally spent on my own, but that's okay. I chopped kindling, played ball and Frisbee with the dogs, brought some stuff for mosaicing into the studio - then panicked and left. But I DID go in there. I must have a phobia or something. I blogged and read a lot. A real Sunday.

Got a fire going in the wood stove, and of course I found the lost children (or some of them) from the old blog...... A successful day, in my opinion. :)

It was lovely to revisit the comments made by everyone, and realise what a tight little community we had there. I hope Claudio is okay. And am hoping that Reg will be blogging from her apartment soon. I miss them. Miss you all. Mostly I miss Bloomsie. Haven't heard much from her but got a brief note recently saying she's okay.... The tribe.....

I've been reading some blogs by people with infertility issues quite a lot lately. Its been a comfort to me. Will make a list soon of various really good blogs I read. There are a lot of very big hearted, strong, fragile, feeling and wonderful people out there!!!!

I was given a HUGE bag of fresh basil from an importer the other day (a few bunches of which I gave to fellow workers, to their apparent delight), who swanned through my till with the querry, "Do you like Basil?" Huh? Who doesnt. Somewhat bemused, I said of course I did, and he came back into the store a few moments later with the bag, saying he had a large shipment from Guatemala bound for the distributors in Vancouver and Toronto. Wow, how nice is that?! (Good thing I have a policy of making sure that everyone who passes through my till leaves the store with a smile!)

Tonight I plan to make gnocchi, with butter and basil pesto. I've never made it before, of course, so am a little concerned, but what the hell, at least I'm not doing what I usually do....which is try a new recipe when I have company! I have no anchovies, but DO have pine nuts. And how hard can it be, really? Olive oil, Basil, pine nuts, salt, pepper, parmagianno porfavore, and garlic. Wee potato dumplings, boiled and then sauteed in butter before being drenched in the pesto. Utterly yum. (A few slivers of lemon rind maybe, do you think?)

Yo, Cuisinart, here I come!!!!

Have a good night, everyone, and a happy tomorrow! Ciao my Chickedees!

Saturday, January 6, 2007

Ruminations on Redemption

In my family, one of the problems is that we don't let things go. There is a lot of psycho-babble talk all the time, so called 'processing' (the family business) but the truth is that we cant seem to move forward without dragging the past along with us and tripping over it. Or flinging it into one another's faces. The concept of 'healing' is bandied about on a daily basis whilst the weapons of past destruction are primed, aimed with deadly accuracy at the target's most vulnerable spot, just waiting to be fired. And usually are. Sometimes the rockets go off spontaneously, without warning, surprising everyone. The ricochets can be deadly.

Okay, so it wasn't all bad. There were some good times. We laughed, we cried. But frankly, Scarlet, enough is enough.

The problem isn't entirely our own. Its cultural, and probably universal in family dynamics. As much as we know this we still act it out. Talk about it, and act it out again in a zillion different variations. From family, to nations, its the same story.

Why is it that we hold on to the past so hard, as if our present or our future couldn't live without it? Ego. Is that it? Identity? Who would I be if I let the past baggage, like the garbage that it is, simply go?! How would I be free to develop? I must be afraid of myself, of who I might be allowed to be, and of my potential or I would let all that crap go. What am I so afraid of? Does a me without that weight think she'd be worse off?!

I've been working on the concept of the 'process of becoming' for some time now. I watch myself encapsulate the good moments in my family's past, tie them up tightly and off they float, drifting, like bubbles, utterly unconnected to the day to day so that what creates the image of the whole, and is the basic thread through the continuum, really just goes from bad to bad. This doesn't work. At least that's what I used to do. And that's been the pattern in my family. We all do it. And it sucks.

I'm noticing how deeply entrenched the pattern of judgement and making the other wrong is in my family. Part of my character too, no doubt, as that is how I was raised. I hate that. I'm noticing how much I wish instead that the mere idea of allowing a person to just be who they are is such a challenge. Why cant we just accept, invite, allow and embrace?

I make mistakes. I know that. Everyone does. But in my family, the focus is so often on the negative. Mistakes, or the assumption that a person might be doing something another doesn't agree with, ergo it MUST me a mistake, will be judged. The smallest thing can become a spark to trigger an argument.The larger the transgression (decided by whom ever is in the most controlling mood at the time, and you can pick any little stupid thing, as an example, I'm sure you have a few of your own), the greater the judgement, and the smaller the possibility of being invited to have a relationship where compassion and acceptance has a place. Without compassion there is no possibility of being redeemed from error. We stay stuck in the place of mistakes and are forever damned by them. And guess what? There might not be any mistake at all! There can be judgement just BECAUSE!

When there is judgement, there can be no compassion. There is only judgement.

My mother had a hard life. She has a hard time not judging. I have to remind myself that she was very broken.With a compass so badly damaged, just how well could she have possibly done?! I know she did her best but my brother and I are still recovering, and living through the consequences. She gave what she could back then. Some of it was wonderful. She gives a lot now. I learned a lot of good from her. I also learned how to beat myself up. I learned from the best after all.

This year, this brand-spanking-new and shining year is taking on a shape already. And it looks like a place where compassion will play a much larger role. I hope so. I know I have to start with myself. Being kind to myself is the only way I will learn to pay it forward, back into my family, and disarm the defenses. Its going to be a big one...... this new leaf.

On a lighter note I read a funny quote I thought I'd leave you with:

"I'm having a difficult day... My inner child just threw up on my higher Power."

The good news: 1): Most of the stolen money was recovered.

2): Mum's gone.

3): I got my benefits and they should kick in soon. (Also am beginning to really like my job).

Happy New Year everyone! :)