Hard to believe I did it again, eh? I know, not really.

2012-01-19T23:10:00.003-09:00

Life has been fairly big as of late. Epic proportions here and there, turning things on their side that you didn't really think turnable. And as usual, time has grabbed the hand of Life and has pulled it into fast forward. Shit.

I've been a terrible blogger for really, really, the past two years. Writing has always been cathartic for me, helping me sort out my life and times,to measure them into some sort of reality or fiction. And I have not been putting in the time or effort that it requires. Many times I have sat down to work through, something about motherhood or wifehood (??!!) or losing Andrea-hood, and suddenly I stop up short because all I have written was "i wasn't planning on any of this and holy shit here it is and now I'm supposed to deal with it and make it into something spectacular." And let's face it, I'm pretty terrible at it. But it's the I'm-pretty-terrible-at-it-but-really-i'm-ok-with-it-all.

So why am I sitting down thinking about this all now when it's 1am and the realtor is coming at 1130am to list our house and I still have 3 walls left to paint?? Why not. It's just one of those nights I need to sort out.

To get the whole picture, right now I manage a restaurant. WIth this position comes both the good and the bad. The good in seeing people happy and getting things done and what they want, the bad in that sometimes you have to tell people that perhaps, maybe, well, this isn't really their thing. Three weeks ago I talked to a young man about his working as a server and how it wasn't really working out. He asked me why it wasn't and for the simple fact that I lacked a tactful way of telling him, I simply told him he was terrible. Because he was. And let's face it, no one really likes to pull punches or walk around the proverbial bush. So tonight, said fellow dropped by to talk. He had a big decision to make and was struggling with the why's and how's and oh shits of how to make it. He was concerned that he was wound a bit to the point of being uptight (to which I laughed a good solid minute to and said "ya think?")and that the decision he really wanted to make was the one that would throw him off his predetermined plan. So we chatted and he said he always appreciated my honesty (pleasant surprise!) and that he wanted to know what my life has been like up until this point. And when I thought about it, it had been nothing like I had expected (because I"m not much of a planner) but filled to overflowing with things that I never regretted, which included good and bad. An hour later he said "I think I've made my decision". I asked him how he felt. He said, "light".

About a half an hour later, my phone rang and it was a voice I hadn't heard in years. It was a comforting voice... like when you find your old favourite pair of shoes from 10 years ago and all the amazing memories of the places they took you come flooding back. But when you actually try them on again, they just don't fit the same. Said voice told me they always loved me and that they were dying. I told the voice he was full of shit and he said he knew that, but it didn't change the fact that his time would be up sooner than later. So we chatted. We chatted about where we both were in life and if it had taken us where we had planned or strived or fell into without thinking. He said he wished it had worked for us, and while I was sad for him, I was glad for me in the fact that it hadn't. He told me I could come back to him anytime. I told him I appreciated the offer, but that I was pretty content right where I am. I wished him well and that he slept soundly and had good dreams. And hoped that tomorrow would hold more answers and that he sat in the sunshine because it's good for the soul. And that even though I don't believe I'm heard most of the time, that I would pray for him. And I hung up the phone with no longings for times long past.

I came home and fixed the dog's bed. I checked on my babies. I listened to my husband snore. And the only thing that I could really come to terms with was that you know, even with all the shit that's come and gone and the hard times and moments where you wish you could be anywhere but here, there are more moments of utter peace and contentment where I look around me and think you know, I would do this again in a heartbeat.

2011-06-05T13:22:00.002-08:00

I think the most beautiful thing about time is that it just keeps moving. And as a perpetually wandering soul, this is a comforting thing... to know that you're not on your own... sometimes wanting to be anchored yet shying away from the shoreline.

Usually I look at my last post before posting anew. To tell you the truth, I can't even remember when it was or what exactly it said, other than it was more about an unhappy me, going in circles, not counting my blessings... and while being very honest with myself, I was missing the parts that were prevalent and good.

April and May have been busy. Work has been fantastic, getting myself recognized, putting it out there and getting something back. Ava got registered for preschool, Sarah learned to say orange juice and ok and wuv you and in no particular order, but always at the right time... and usually sending out lofty kisses with it. And I think I may have found a husband that, somewhere through the rain and wind, found a wife that he loves and is putting an effort into her that she so desperatley needs. And in turn he has gotten a wife that's let up and realized that just because her reality may be what it is, it doesn't always mean that it's written in stone.

I have a story to read and a puzzle to make because right now, that's far more important then any griping I may have to do. And life really is better with less bitching.

:)

2011-03-28T20:46:00.005-08:00

I fell off the map for February and most of March due to necessity. I was on the cusp of losing my mind, clinging to the proverbial edge of my sanity, and while I question how far off the cliff I've actually moved, atleast both feet are currently planted firmly on some sort of solid, semi-solid, atleast-it's-not-quicksand kind of ground. I'm here and all faculties are working. All in all, that's a bonus.

The last two months have been busy. I've been consistently averaging 6 days and 60 hours (more or less) a week, and that doesn't include my children. I've been burning all ends possible, and while I question exactly how far it is that I'm getting ahead, I can say that I am not going behind. It's not easy, but I'm doing what needs to be done for the time being. Or atleast I'm trying.

Nothing's been easy, that's for sure. Husband and I have been at odds, or I've been at odds with him in my own mind, or there's a silent fight going on somewhere, and I hate him and me and my life all at once, but really, who know's what exactly my reality is. I'm just so fucking terrible at being married. Is it bad that I've always been so darned content by myself??? Is it bad that I want that desperatley sought for solitude with me and my girls only??? Is it terrible that he feels like such an outsider to our trio... atleast to me? They say that the first three years of marriage are the hardest and then it gets easier. I hope the fuck they're right. But in all my bitching about my relationship with him, to watch him with my girls, you can't help but see that they are all in love. And it is that right there my friends, that is so darn hard to walk away from.

Towards the end of February I went to a Filapino wedding ... a young guy that I work with was getting married, and while they were keeping it small, I got invited. And I have to say that it was probably once of the most fun, intimate affairs that I had ever attended, and the sheer amount of joy that radiated from that particular race of people couldn't help but astound you. They laughed and danced (nothing but the Black Eyed Peas on rotation), ate and sang (they love love LOVE kareoke!) and rocked their own skin. They weren't worried about who was there or what was going on. They partied in the best kind of way. People were giving speeches and advice on marriage, does and don'ts and what works and what doesn't. And he asked me to say a few words and of course it was a day where I particularly hated the man I said I would contend with till death did us part. So I walked up and took the mic and said that I didn't really know what to tell them other then to remember this day and why you decided that this was the one person you really wanted to spend the rest of your days with, and that some days would be easier then others... a lot easier... and a lot harder... but in the end, if you made the right choice for you, it was worth it in the end... all the fights, tears, laughter and throwing coffee mugs. I never really looked good in white, so I'm not sure where that leaves me, but here I am, married and doing my darndest to make it work... or atleast thinking that I am. Let's face it, I'm sitting here waiting for it to get easier. Maybe I should stop getting ready to run.

I've been talking to God a lot lately. We usually have an ongoing dialogue of some sorts - good, bad and ugly, I figure, hey, if You made me, You knew what you were getting yourself into. While it's been an effort, I'm trying to be still. And if you know me, you know how hard this is. I'm waiting, biding my time, for what, I don't know, but I'm trying it out. It will be interesting to see what comes of it all, so see just exactly what I misinterrpret, or, perhaps, get right. Should be noteworthy. My dad's praying for me... along with a few others I suspect, and I will confess that it scares the heck out of me. Crazy things happen when people lift their voices. The Tragically Hip had a line that said "nobody cares about something you didn't do", so it will be interesting to see where this all leads.

On April 15th I'm heading to my sister's place, eight hours north. Slowly I've been compiling music for the ride because while my girls will have their dvd player, mama needs something to pass cars to. While gathering, I came across an old cd... a relic amidst one of my several boxes of books crammed together during however many moves ago. I used to spend a lot (a LOT) of time in my car and music was always vital and was before the era of the ipod. In classic Andrea style, this particular compilation was dubbed "Pop-it-in-cause-it's-gonna-make-you-feel-good! Produced during the May heatwave '03". So I popped it in and was taken back to the days of my old sunfire with windows down and sunroof open and cruising to God-knows-where, and all I could think was you know, I really nailed it with the title.

Toopy and Binoo

2011-01-23T19:40:00.003-09:00

It seems that my writing is always penned around these moments of seeming unconsequence that bring tears to my eyes for the silliest reasons. Tonight my 3 year old and I went to Toopy and Binoo. If you google them they'll point you to Treehouse and explain to you that they are a lovable cat and mouse duo that use their imagination. Many people think they're derranged or "freaky" and I struggle with how someone can judge so negatively the way they branch out and envision. They've been a favourite in our household for a long time. And today we saw them live and in person.. and if the tickets had cost us a million dollars, it would have been worth it to watch my daughter be so still, so enthralled, so there... They sang and danced for 90 minutes and through it all I found myself having to wipe my eyes... it struck me at just how richly I am blessed and it's no longer just about my moments... I was now part of her moments... her important parts of her young life... the things that matter to her, right now, in this place.

I couldn't help but think of my life and those who are a part of it... those within reach, or just standing on the edge, and how they move in and out. There is a kid, a 17 year old that I know. He's a good kid. Works hard in all parts, drinks some beer, but keeps it together. His mom died last fall after a 6 year battle with ovarian cancer and this was the first Christmas he went through without her. His dad works out of town is only home about five days per month and his older brother lives in the city, so this kid, for all intense purposes, is on his own. One night during a snowstorm he was on his way home from work and I asked him to call me to let me know that he made it. He gave me a funny look, said that he would, and prompty left. An hour later I got a text message that said he made it... and that I was the first one to worry about him making it home since his mom passed away and that it meant more to him then he could ever explain. And I thought about him today as I held my little girl... and as my heart swelled at how glad I was to be where I was, I couldn't help but think that if I were ever to have to leave this spot earlier than planned, I would hope that someone worried about whether or not the treasure sitting on my lap made it home too. Because she is the most perfect her and utterly irreplacable.

The closing line of today's program said Sing it loud and clear because every song is perfect. And today not only was my song perfect, the harmony provided by my kid moved mountains.

Another January

2011-01-10T18:43:00.002-09:00

I can, in all heartfelt honesty, say... with a great deal of honesty and put-it-out-there frankness, I will never, ever... ever get married again. Ever. Ever.

It's not that my marriage is so bad. It is what it is... ups and downs, mortgages, kids, important stuff and stupid shit. I have moments where I say thank god I don't have to date again and I can fart freely in front of this person and they know me and married me anyway... then I have moments where I'm like, seriously? I seriously fucking did this? Fuck.

Today would be one such day.

I never planned on marriage... or kids... or this, how should I put it because I don't want to say "ordinary", because it's not... but perhaps, typical? Would typical fit here? Ten years ago, could I have asked myself hey, guess what, when you're on the cusp of turning 35 you're going to have two kids, two kids, a mortgage, no time to escape and sit in the dark to listen to music that you don't care if anyone else likes or read books for the sake of reading books or have baths when you want to or worry that two little people count on you to make sure they atleast get some semblance of Canada's food guide into them... I would have probably laughed and said I doubt it. And I did. I doubted it. I had never planned on it... never expected it... never thought about it.

And here I sit. In my king-sized bed (because us and two kids didn't really fit the queen, and for the random night they end up here, this is far more comfortable and if I'm to continue being really honest, it's kinda nice thinking and feeling, which is probably the biggest thing, that I'm all alone in bed and that I'm surrounded by a house of me, with my shit... my hopes, my fears, my messes... the curtains I want and the vacuuming not done and not a care about it. Oh to dream. But I'm not. I have an incredibly bitchy husband downstairs who's pissed at me because I needed to borrow money to help pay my student loan this month... who berates and gets snarky and I could see it if I spent the mortgage money on fabulous new boots... but I didn't. And I could see it if I demanded to stay at home and not work, but I didn't. So I guess I don't see it. But atleast I've progressed to a point in my life where I can honestly say you fucking moron get over yourself and put some looser underwear on.

On one hand it's been good for me, this whole process. I've grown into a version of me that I never expected to have practice with - one who says you know, I don't like that, so piss off. One who says yes and means it, or no and means that too. There's something about this life that I never expected that makes sense to me... while I have days where it seems I will never feel the warmth of the sun, there are moments that are only found in the clarity of a very cold day.

But I suppose this life is full of good and bad and it's quite honestly not just about me anymore. And to a great degree I accepted to that. But there are definitive moments where I couldn't help but think if only I had killed him and hid the body.

2011-01-05T21:40:00.002-09:00

I've become very honest with myself. And it rather scares... and liberates.... the shit out of me all at once. I keep expecting the clouds to open up and the sun shine through on my face as if to say "well done good and noble creature", but so far it's more along the lines of "you know, that's true... and too bad you didn't figure it out a long time ago dumbass". Either way, the details are getting clearer.

Life has been busy. Sarah Doodle turned a year old in December, and Ava has mastered the art of never shutting up. It's impressive really, like she knows she's on the cusp of making your ears bleed and delving you into the place where you understand why some people shake children, only to stop you at the threshold to utterly endear you to her, to the point where your heart should explode from the sheer amount of love that you have for her. She is the mistress of making you fall in love with her, deeper than you ever dreamed possible... and always before you suscumb to fully shaking the shit out of her. Now now, not to worry. She is my joy... but it doesn't mean that on occassion I can't crave quiet. After all, she is three with the vocabulary of a 15 year old.

Sarah Doodle turned a year in December and is quickly following in her sister's linguistic capabilities. This morning at 4am she decided it was probably best that she sleep in my bed... while twirling my hair....and sticking her finger up my nose.... all the while saying "Ha-yo mom mom mom!" Ha-yo Sarah Doodle. Mama's gonna get you some tylenol... :D Kidding!... well... kinda.....

I've finally been able to get some teaching in after the arderous process of applying for a provincial license in a province that is not my own. Lord what an ordeal. All I want to do is warp your children, seriously, need we make this more difficult? Anyways, there have been a few schools that I get into consistently and I have to say that I quite enjoy them. This morning I arrived to said school to be informed that I was chaperoning the New Year's Dance for grades 6,7, and 8 which was about to take place first thing in periods one through three.

And I have to say that immediately upon entering the gym where the dance was to be held, I was even more quickly reassured about just how glad I was to no longer be in junior high.

You saw it all. The self-conscious girls that wanted to dance with boys and the boys that wished those same girls would ask them... the ones that didn't care... the cool ones, the chubby ones... the athletes... the tall ones that couldn't keep up with their feet yet and the short ones that were dying to get into the next shoe size. It was interesting to watch from the outside because I could so easily recognize their pain, joy, struggle and loathing at being there. The nervous tugging of clothing, the hands shoved deep into pockets... the nervous giggles... it was so easy to ascertain what was going through most of those kids' heads at any particular time. You couldn't help but wish them well on the years that were quietly coming upon them... cheer them on to become their best selves, wondering if they would get a chance to see the forsest outside of the trees or appreciate the wildlife therein. I hoped for them. I hoped that they get it all. And immediately as soon as someone opened a door and stirred the air, I hoped they discover deoderant... sooner then later.

I would say that so far this has been the best year yet. I stopped taking so many stupid things to heart, which is easier said then done on my behalf. I stopped thinking I was always in the right, which is good, because I'm not. But neither am I wrong all the time either. I started having an honest voice and letting the proverbial chips fall where they may as consequence of that voice. I've let go of the extra 15 lbs that haunted me... and as soon as I let go, noticed that I lost 10 of them. I guess you could say I'm starting to feel like me and I'm enjoying it.

I've released myself to the world, but protected the important bits while listening to Ava tonight before getting into the bathtub. "Mom, Sarah tooted!".... "Nope, she pooped!"..... "Aw mom, she shit and it stinks."

I appreciate that Ava is acquiring a similar batch of honesty.

"There never was a child so lovely, but his mother was glad to get him to sleep." Ralph Waldo Emerson

2010-03-05T20:30:00.000-09:00

Ahhhh.... quiet.

I have to say that while I considerably suck in the strict structure department, I do love a consistent bedtime. My babies are in bed, not only sleeping, but resting from a day spent out in the sunshine and doing this and that with mom and dad. Funny, a lot of times I couldn't really tell you specifically what we do each day, but we seem to land on our pillows exhausted from the activity. Sarah Doodle is sleeping like a trouper, usually in bed each night between 8 and 8:30. Ava is a little more a stickler, not getting there until 9, but I just can't seem to worry about it, simply because we have a quiet time to rock and talk about our day. Or rock and watch Toopy and Binoo. Or rock and discuss all the reasons why it IS bedtime, while she argues that point that it is not.

It's been a big week with me working all of Peter's days off, leaving him to sort out the details of bedtime with his daughters. A feat never attempted until Tuesday of this week. And it worked out perfectly. I had told him before that he needed to spend time with his youngest girl. He was still scared of her crying, scared of her starting and never stopping, scared he wouldn't know what to do or if he did then not doing it right anyways. So I told him that he needed to get over himself, that she could feel his anxiety, and that she, and really, he, had to learn to trust him and his ability to be a great dad. Because I knew he could. He just had to see it for himself. And they made it. And they giggled and talked and discovered that Sarah has this great big laugh just waiting to come out and pounce on whoever is nearby. And through it all I think he finally figured out that he could take care of his family outside of a paycheck. And really, that's worth more than all the money in the world.

My friend Sarah was here visiting from Cuba. She works for immigration and her next stop will be Cairo for 2 years beginning this coming summer. Ava was confused by all the "Sarah's", and Big Sarah, versus Sarah Doodle didn't always clear her mind, but we managed. Big Sarah was actually part of Sarah Doodles naming. While she is named after my great grandmother, it was the spirit in my friend Sarah that sealed the deal. She has lived life with gusto and fearlessly... or if she was frightened, she did it anyways. And I can't help but think that's a good lesson to pass on... that it's ok to be scared, but never let it stop you... see the world.... explore the nooks and crannies.

I'm really hungry and watching Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives, and thinking that the banana bread I made earlier is in short order in satisfying my great desire for a burger. Ah well. I guess I'll sort that out too.

Tonight we tried out my 2 year olds new rubber boots in all the puddles we could find around the neighbourhood. She told me that she was wet and tired, but that I was a "tan-tastic mama" and that she knew because she was a smart cookie. I a smart cookie, mama and you tan-tastic. And she told me she loved me. I wuv you mama. A wot. And I am reminded in all my inadequacies and short-falls that somewhere along this wandering road of my life that has been both overgrown and barren sometimes all at once, I got the important things right. I'm not perfect, but I am tan-tastic.

2010-02-20T20:50:00.001-09:00

I have to say that from the last time I posted until now, there has been a one eighty. Which is good considering I nearly went off the deep end. My daughter had cohlic and it was awful. Beyond awful. Like on the verge of wondering if I was going to become one of those mothers that shook until the crying stopped kind of awful. Thankfully though, I was not and am not. There were a lot of nights of walking the floor with my baby, with my ipod on so loud I couldn't hear the world outside, crying along with her, wishing I could fix her and wondering if the crying, for both of us, was ever going to stop.

And then we found the chiropractor. And the clouds parted while the stars aligned and the sun finally shone on our tear stained cheeks, while the birds chirped and heaven opened up and said you made it. And then I kept crying... for joy and relief, as if someone came back from the grave and said it's all ok, you survived and here's a million dollars to top it all off. It really was that good.

I think there are a lot of misconceptions about what it is the chiropractor does... as in the simple fact that most believe that they will take the infant and wring them out like a towel... which is entirely false. Rather, they do this wonderful massage from their hips to the base of their skull, working with minute pressure in certain areas. Sarah loved it. Essentially what happens is that because their spine is not yet solid, the nerves which radiate out from there to around their sides and into their digestive track can some times get pinched, not as painful as when we experience a pinched nerve but painful enough, in the birthing process. The result is that it can affect their digestive tract... stomach and small intestine, making them gassing and irritated... leaving them to cry for endless hours (due to pain) and putting their mothers on the verge of slitting their wrists, or at the very least, vowing to never let anyone or thing near her vagina again, unless it's an IUD that guarantees no pregnancies for 5 years, at which time she will remove and reinsert a new one. Just for the record, I have one now. Firmly in place. Really firmly.

Anyways, poor little Sarah had her right side tighter than her left side and following the first visit to Dr. Reiger (lovely woman, by the way), proceeded to, and I kid you not, shit 25 times plus (because I lost track after that) within the following 24 hours. And she became, literally, happy as a pig in shit. She laughed and cooed and talked and did everything you want your new baby to do... and it was incredible. With 3 visits under our belts, she is sleeping and eating happily and healthily, and we are once again enjoying our lives. The IUD is going to stay though.

As for Ava, my beautiful two year old, she's wonderful. She's learning to sort out the rhythm of her own drum beat and it is a joy to watch. I sometimes worry about what or how I affect/effect my daughers young lives with my own insecurities and poor decision making. I appreciate that the foundation of who I am is lined and laced by aspects of my personality that I struggle over. One such frustration is that I am a pleaser. It's two fold, or perhaps two-sided... I love to please those I love, yet the need to please often spills over onto those less deserving, or towards those who really, it just doesn't matter to. The other day, and to tell you the truth, I can't even remember what it was about, but Ava did something and I wasn't very happy with her... and I told her so. Mama's not very happy with you right now I said. And I'll never forget the look of devestation that welled up in her eyes with her tears. As we walked downstairs I pulled her up on my lap and we rocked. I brushed the hair off her face with my hand and wiped her tears while I told her how much I loved her and how much I wanted her to be her... to choose what she would and loft a screw you to the world within reason because she still had to live in it and it wasn't worth the effort to buck the system forever, over every silly bump in the road. I told her that wanted her to choose wisely and do that which would make her happy and that the rest of us would follow suit, because in reality, while we bitch and moan about those who don't play by the rules of the system and chase their dreams outloud... well really, we're just jelous... so I told her not to fall into the trap of other peoples insecurities and fears and that it was ok to make mistakes and while I would always have her back and love her with every breath that keeps me alive I wouldn't fight her battles or chose her path... those were hers and would make her strong and wise in the world, in life and love. And as a mom I don't think I could ask for more than that. Chose wisely... for you, not for me. Keep you safe for me, but chose a life with no regrets for both of us because that lets me know I did a good job, because really, you are my gift that was undeserved but received and I will never take that simple fact for granted and never question. You're mine... but you're also you. And she looked up at me because I had tears on my cheeks now and she put her two year old hands on the sides of my face, and said you happy now mama? I nodded and said yes, I was happy.

A long time ago in another universe, I sat in a bible class with thirty other people trying to sort out what it was that "Joy" really meant. There were a lot of pat answers... easy breakdowns, simple solutions, but none seemed to really embody what it was that joy was because joy wasn't perfect. We never came to an answer in that class, but a few years after that I read a book called "when heaven is silent" and in that the author said that joy wasn't the absense of pain, but that it was the presence of God. And that day in the rocking chair, with my 2 year old on my lap concerned with whether or not I was happy, struck me again with how I should have called her Ava Joy... because that's what she is. She's my little piece of heaven that twists you in ways you never expected and demands in ways you couldn't comprehend and loves you with enough to move the mountains and part seas with simply a quiet I love you.

As the day comes to an end, with my Ava Joy tucked into my bed as hubby is working nights, snoring and holding a pooh bear, while my Sarah Hope, who helped me make it through the dark of crying into the light of smiles, is flaked out in her crib with her arms over her head, also snoring up a storm, I am reminded in my little home that is quiet and dark, about just how good my life is, how content I am, and how, while so many things never ended up as I expected they would or thought they should, reality brought me so much more to be thankful for, to love and laugh and cry about, and to finally step back from myself, look around and know that this is perfection from imperfection. A balanced life in which I am Andrea Faith... in knowing that it will sort itself out as it always seems to do.

2010-01-27T21:13:00.000-09:00

I'm amazed by the bravery of my two year old. I've been watching her lately... her dancing, exploring, lessons, tantrums... watching her become herself and how fearless she is in just 'putting it out there' without seeming a worry or concern over the consequence of doing so. I can't help but wonder what life would be like if I took the same measures. I wonder who would be on my side if I did?

It's been a week of ups and downs. Sometimes I still find it hard to wrap my head around the fact that I am a mom, that there are little people depending on me for peanut butter sandwiches, changing the channel and bums. And that I've become one of those ones where showers are optional, pajamas are a daily mainstay and there's not a bra in sight. I can honestly say I never expected to be here. And right now you could say that I'm mixed on the whole thing.

I love my kids. I would lay down my life for them, but when everyone in the kitchen is crying like their heart and leg broke simultaneously, when one has their hand so far into the peanut butter jar that their elbow is getting slimed and I could care less because really, if that's what they've decided they're going to eat for supper well atleast it's protein, and my father calls in the middle of it all and asks how it's going and my only reply is "honestly dad, it fucking sucks right now" and I mean it. Maybe I'm tired, frustrated, out of my element, who knows. I think if he could have, he would have given me a hug and on one hand I'm glad he couldn't because I would have been crying along with the rest of them. It doesn't help to be housebound due to the temperatures outside. Or the short days. Or the everything.

My friend Eric used to get frustrated with his ex-wife when they were still married. She was a stay at home mom with 2 boys close in age and Eric was an electrician running his own company, putting in 12 to 15 hour days. He could never understand why should would stay up so late and never come to bed. I understood with startling clarity tonight. Because no one wants or needs something from you. it's quiet, dark, and for the most fleeting of moments, you can hear your own thoughts. Just for a moment.

I suppose this is a life unexpected on my part. And just when I think I have a handle on it, can see it for what it is and believe I can find an opportunity for reason, the power goes out and I have to try to remember where everything was sitting while it was still light so I don't run into it headfirst. And while it's not quite a raging fumble, I'm forced to slow to nearly a standstill... to feel my way in the dark, inching through where I once tread freely, without care. In the light. atleast I don't dread the night anymore.

It's a season of change... for me... for my kids. From Sarah's crying to Ava's not been wanting to nap as much even though she and I both still need her to. I not sweepy mama she says to me. I no wike nap time. Don't wike quiet time. As she yawns and fights the inevitable. But then I have to laugh, because on some similar plane, I too am fighting the inevitable with a yawn. As I laid her down today I smiled as I walked by the same plaque that I walk by everyday. It's a fisherman's prayer that hangs by her door and says "Dear Lord be good to me for the sea is so big and my boat is so small. Amen"

Maybe that's where I'm at right now... maybe right now I just need to worry about staying afloat and worry about finding oars tomorrow.

2010-01-13T21:06:00.001-09:00

Last night I was up long enough to know that there were 6 trains pass through between 3:12am and 6:47am. And it's not that I'm all into exactness. I just had time on my hands between feedings, burps, and calming little cries in hopes of settling the urge to cry myself. There were a lot of I love you's during the time that the six trains rolled along in hopes and with ambitions of reminding us both that these long nights won't last forever, even when at 4:28am you are certain they will. Nights like that are like someone giving you a yard stick and saying, ok, now measure how far the east is from the west, then turning on heel and leaving as quickly as they came, with a quick oh yea and good luck over their shoulder.

I'll confess, the nights are long. The simple fact that it's mid January and I'm living somewhere around a northern parallel don't help the situation, coupled with the exasperation of unanswered prayers of please just 2 more hours continually mocking me as the minutes tick by. I get that it's only a time. I appreciate that the crying will stop and the hours between sleep and wake will divide and conquer properly, but man, it seriously sucks right now. And at 5:53am I understood why some mothers lose their minds.

But the eternal optimist in me always somehow manages to see a silver lining or gray curve or something on the horizon that might not have been there 3 seconds earlier. My husband arrived downstairs early, just when I wasn't certain I'd make it he arrived with all the right words and quiet movements. His gentleness brought all my tears to the surface and the only words that made sense to me in was that right now was just so hard. And he hugged me and told me how proud he was of me and saw my weakness as strength. I drank my first cup of hot coffee without interruption and watched as he fed and rocked our daughter. And I watched as she trusted him and fell asleep looking up at him...and while I didn't fall asleep myself, I rested in knowing that she wasn't the only one who trusted him.

There's been a certain sort of stripping away in our relationship, where we've finally allowed ourselves to be who we are and let the chips fall where they may without worry or concern about what the world outside of us thought. It's been scary and liberating, like taking that first step over the edge, uncertain of your footing, but somehow hoping and then knowing your rope is strong enough to hold a misstep.

We're a long ways from perfect, but we are getting the details sorted out.

Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle.

Amy Bloom

a new year

2010-01-08T08:35:00.002-09:00

I always find there's a lot of hoop-law (or however you spell it) surrounding the coming of a new year. Resolutions come flying out of one's ass with the same force as a desert rainstorm, only to, usually, as with the desert rainstorm, find itself dried up within a week or two, having its only success in failure to make any lasting impression. I would like to confess that I'm different, but I'm not. But, atleast I think that I know that about myself, so I usually don't tend to make any promises, aloud or silently on December 31st. So right now I'm trying to sort through if this is a different sort of year for me.

If you were to sort through posts dating back a year ago, you would find the shell of a woman who thought she had made terrible life decisions and that her world was falling down around her. I suppose the beauty of hindsight is that you can look back and peer through the ashes of where you think everything went up in flames and really, and I mean really, and honestly, assess the damage and determine if anything is salvagable. Last year was hard. As in sit-down-and-cry-because-there's-nothing-left kind of hard. I had thought about leaving my husband, thought about turning my world upside down, because it wasn't righted to begin with... atleast try to get it on its side, and start somewhere once again... over, under, somwhere in the middle, I didn't know... I just knew I had to get my shit together... or atleast into a different pile.

Funny how life prepares you for life. I've lived in a lot of different places, flitting from here to there, trying different "hats" and "shoes" for those interesting walks of life where I chose to pick up and tread. And everytime I did it, it was hard. If it was easy, I got bored and moved on. I always forced myself to stay for a time... could be six months, could be a year, but I always felt that a time was needed to really assess the situation and decide whether this was the way it was because it was the way it had always been and would always be, or if it was just me in a discontent without rhyme or reason. So I suppose that you could say that was last year's resolution - to hunker down and weather the storm for a time... a year, so see what was yeilded or destroyed by it. And I'm glad I did.

It didn't get better over night. In fact, there were days where it got worse and then I got pregnant and I didn't know what to think anymore. It's hard when you lose faith in yourself and your abilities.... actually, it's beyond hard. It's unrelenting and painful and despisable and hurtful and everything awful you can think of, bundle it up, and stuff it all in your head to run around in circles for months. But here I am, sitting on the other side of 2010 and saying, holy shit, I made it... and made progress! And I'm glad I did. Glad I waited. Glad I cried, screamed, went silent, slammed doors, said fuck, said it louder, cursed my world, rejoiced for it, and grew. Somewhere, amidst all the awful, I have arrived on the threshold of someone I really want to be, living a life I really want to live.

So resolutions for 2010... hmmm.... I believe it is a good year to cultivate the strength that I discovered from 2009. To grow into the woman of strength... not size, not hair length, not this, not that, nothing external... this is a year of strength... from the inside. Physical, mental and emotional. I think I'm off to a good start. I read something once and I can't remember where, but it was along the lines of this... that it's like a catepillar emerging from a cocoon. Without the struggle, it would still come out but be deformed on the inside, unable to navigate the wind. Pretty, but no strength. And I've thought about that a lot this past year.

This year I'm going to walk more, seek more fresh air. I'm going to listen to my ipod and tune out the 'noise' that sometimes overwhelms for no needed reason. And I'm going to look to become a woman of strength... like I know is in there... the kind of woman I want my girls to be. To seek adventure, live, speak up, take stock of what's important. Because I have to say, I'm in love with my husband and he's learning to love me how I need to be loved. And the whole process has been worth it in the end.

Nothing could be worse than the fear that one had given up too soon, and left one unexpended effort that might have saved the world

Jane Addams

A New Sound

2010-01-04T12:31:00.001-09:00

Peter got me an ipod for Christmas. I've never had one... an mp3 player or anything. I used to have a discman with antiskip, but that was about as technologically advanced as I had ever been. It's pink and little and perfect. Once upon a time I used to crave music. It was far more life sustaining than television or really, anything. It kept me sane and drove with me into the next moment of life because my playlists were my own and for my ears only. I used to love my long drives.. their necesities in my life were also my escape because my stereo was loud and I could sing along if I wanted or enjoy the comfort of soft sounds. But now my life is busy. There are toddlers and husbands and infants that require from me to not have my music loud and alone. And I'm ok with that, didn't know I had missed it in fact. Until now. And somehow, sitting here, plugged in to only me and my choices, I feel like once again I have found me... which is particularly nice since I wasn't really looking or missing.

Joy, sorrow, tears, lamentation, laughter -- to all these music gives voice, but in such a way that we are transported from the world of unrest to a world of peace, and see reality in a new way, as if we were sitting by a mountain lake and contemplating hills and woods and clouds in the tranquil and fathomless water.

Albert Schweitzer

The Arrival

2010-01-02T17:10:00.000-09:00

Our newest addition joined us on December the 9th around 4 in the afternoon on a cold and snowy day, weighing in at 6lbs 15oz and overdue. Her name is Sarah Adelaide and she is named after my great grandmother and has within her small body a serious genetic propensity of being a very strong (willed and other) woman. She's perfect. Ava has become a wonderful big sister, unaffected by crying and fuss, happily taking diapers to the garbage can, helping to burp, loving to hold, also part of the same genetic makeup. We call her Sadie and it suits her... well, it suits me... her father informs me that her name is Sarah. I smile because that's ok too.

Right now, I'm tired. Three and four hours of sleep at night can take their toll, but we seem to somehow be managing. Peter's mom is here and is a wonderful help, but I can't help but wish my kin all lived a little closer... within arm's reach.

I never knew that my world was missing something. The something has been found.

2009-10-19T17:17:00.000-08:00

I seriously had no idea it had been so long. Seriously. And holy shit it's nearly the end of October and here I am thinking that it had been only a couple or three weeks since the end of August. Interesting how time makes its move and completely sneaks out the backdoor, only to slam it and bring you out of a relverie.

Finally I am nearing the end of being pregnant. I'm tired. Really tired. Like get this child the fuck out of me and let me sleep for atleast a week preferably ten days kind of tired. But it's all good... because it has to be... because this kid can't come for atleast another 3 weeks (unless I miraculously get my shit together in the next 4 days... doubtful). But we are having a little girl... which I have to say I'm quite excited about. The ultrasound tech said "it looks more like a hamburger than a hotdog"... and frankly I'm still laughing. Peter doesn't know, nor does facebook, so it's probably best. She weighs about 4 1/2 lbs and I figure another 4 weeks or so and I'll get to meet her... and her name will be Sarah Adelaide... and we'll probably nickname her Sadie and somehow, somewhere along the way I've become so content with my life that I don't even really have words to describe it other than it's a bit like being in a canoe with a good friend on a familiar river that drifts you along in the sunshine and not once do you feel the need to talk. Yeah. That's what it's like. Satisfaction.

The weather is changing and winter is letting us know it's nearby and that's alright... just means that spring is next.

One's first step in wisdom is to question everything - and one's last is to come to terms with everything.

Georg C. Lichtenberg

2009-08-27T06:29:00.003-08:00

I love Stuart Maclean. Love him. And he's coming to Edmonton... on my due date, but he's coming. It's like the kind of love where I actually emailed him and told him that when even the tried and true CBC could not penetrate the Great Canadian Shield of Northern Ontario, whilst driving through one summer with my sister, he was there in a book and on CD and it honestly made it one of the best drives of my entire life.

Funny, I never email people, or join fan clubs (facebook doesn't count) or get all stupid over people. Usually I'm fairly "yeah, I really like him/her/them/it", enjoy them, but end up calling it a day before anything remotely fanatical takes place. But I have to admit that Stuart, The Tragically Hip, and Blue Rodeo stand out. Interestingly, they're all great Canucks.

Anyways, the whole crux of this was that I was trying to pinpoint why they're different to me... figure out why they stand out when others, while I may like/enjoy them, I could take or leave them, or simply be content with hearing them spattered amidst radio playlists, but these three, well, these three required more from me, required a certain amount of passion and dedication. And I figured it out. They were there.

While some people may need cars or clothes or people or whatever, it was these three that met me in those proverbial places. They were there... or they took me there... or hung out with me there.... but never demanded me there. And those particular moments, spent both with people and without, were some of the best I can ever recall. To me, those are what my best memories are made of.

One spring my sister and I drove across Canada. You have to appreciate that this was neither a new nor novel thing for either of us girls to do. We had each made several previous trips before this (and two months later I would do it again with my girlfriend Laura), but there was something very different about this time. My sister and I are similar in some ways, yet very different in others. I used to think we were like oil and water, but now it's more like balsamic vinegar and olive oil... different, will separate, but the mix is divine.... anyways, I didn't know how'd we make out, but we did it. And it was one of the best trips ever. We read to each other (Stuart), listened to the radio (Blue Rodeo), and enjoyed the silence mixed with the hum of the road as we sped across the praries. You appreciated the vastness of our country, its diversity, all the nooks and crannies that held all the secrets, oddballs and hidden gems. If you've never, you should. There is a quiet something to it that leaves a permanent mark... perhaps I am in need of an old CD... a simplicity that is calling.

I finished school... done... it seems to have been so long that I barely know what to do with myself. But I'm sure I'll figure it out.

I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren't certain we knew better. They fight for honor at the first challenge, make love with no moral restraint, and they do not for all their marvelous instincts appear to know about death. Being such wonderfully uncomplicated beings, they need us to do their worrying.

George Bird Evans

2009-08-08T19:41:00.002-08:00

Ideally I should be on my way to bed, but suppose I'm dragging my feet. Peter's on the first of 6 night shifts - normally he only does four (then four off, then four days, four off, four nights, over and over and over), but he picked up two overtime shifts (because he knocked me up and we need the money) so he's gone for six... anyways, the point of it all is the simple fact that I don't sleep well on his first night gone. Wow. Longwinded.

Just as the sun rises and sets, I'm going to begin as I always do... where in the world has time gotten to???? It's nearly the middle of August people! AUGUST! Geeze Louise. July was busy with family visiting for three weeks, finished school (did I mention I FINISHED SCHOOL???? Well, one exam left, but they emailed me to see what name I wanted on my diploma!) Funny, seems like life's been on hold for years (five to be exact), and I've dreamt and thought about this day for what seems like ever, and whamo, here it is. And I'm just sitting here looking rather stunned.

Reality says that I'm exhausted, which I am, and I am writing so with a sort of holy shit it's really finished kind of feeling. Shock and awe we shall say. For now to be able to step back and take a breath... wow... what a ... change. To having nothing to procrastinate over... it's hard to wrap my head around. My final course was an Intro to the Novel where I had to read a bunch of stuff (80% of which I will never read again unless I am paid copious amounts of money) and write technical papers on... you know, papers that suck the life out of you with proper prepositional phrases and no comma splices. I was once invited to a writer's symposium with the author David Adams Richards.. a maritimer and good writer (I would read more of his). We had to write a story that would fit on the back of a postcard about the picture on the front of it - begin it, work it through, end it, all on a 5x7 piece of cardboard. Mine was of a woman in a hat/material shop, circa 1800s and grainy... no distinct lines. I don't remember what I wrote, but I do remember that he said that it was my job as the writer to create that picture in the reader's head, to leave nothing to doubt about what I was explaining or expressing to them. I still don't know if I agree with that because to me, writing is about putting it out there and letting the reader sort it out for themselves. If there's something to be had, they'll get it. Perhaps that's why I've never been published. But perhaps that's the same reason I've never tried.

Over time a lot of things get put into perspective - what you like, don't like, couldn't be bothered with, or what you'd decide to lay down your life for. I remember a girlfriend of mine said that she had loved turning 3o, that it was like someone gave her a card and said there you go, you've got your shit together, your decisions are worthy of listening to, you have sound advice. And I've never forgotten it. In fact, I think about it all the time. I think about how the years of my life have sorted me out, defined and challenged me, comforted and consoled. Which brings me to what I've been working through this week.

This past long weekend we were at Big Valley Jamboree in Camrose, Alberta. If you're not familiar with it, it's a huge country/bluegrass/rock kind of weekend that's run for the past 17 years with big names, lotsa booze and decisions that will later (assuredly) be regretted at some point in many concert goers lives down the line. It's a good time, but a wild one for many. What happened this particular weekend was a huge wind storm that toppled the main stage, killing one and injuring several others.

To start was the simple fact that never in my life had I had so little time to react other than in a basic get the hell out of here way. To even think back on it it's an eery feeling to understand what could have happened to us. Thankfully we were all safe and sound. A strange hand of grace was over us.

The woman that died was Donna Moore. She was in her mid 30's and the single mother to two boys, aged 10 and 16 years. She was gone with friends for the weekend. According to reports by Donna's friends, she had received a text message earlier in the day from her oldest son who informed her that he had decided on a career path, and that he wanted to be a youth pastor/worker. Apparently it had been very important to her that her children attend post secondary of some sort. She was said to have been quiet proud and pleased of her oldest boy's choice.

Here's where I struggle. My heart breaks, literally aches for these two kids. Because really, they're kids and far to young to be without a mama. I can't even begin to wrap my head around the devastation and pain that they're going through. Or if' it's even sunken in yet. But the clincher was that it was listed as an "act of God", unexpected and with a devastation never planned for, this act of God took the mother of a child who wanted to be a pastor. So when I think about how time and age has defined me, how life and struggles with good and evil and woohoo and prayer have turned me around upside down and inside out, I wonder how this "act" will define these boys and where they will go and how they will deal with it. And the reality says that only time can tell.

Peter and I had been fighting before we left... slamming doors and being snots kind of fighting where nothing the other did was right. We slept in separate beds that first night, but on Saturday night when the wind had settled and the rain stopped, we were all crammed into this one little one, he, ava, our baby to be and me and all unwilling to let cramped corners pull us apart. We were all safe but needed the safety of each other. The next day we all packed up quietly, used please and thank you, had patience for the other, held hands as we drove home. There was the unspoken "what could have been" and suddenly our perspectives had turned around. And through it all I wonder why is it human nature that dictates disaster to focus on what's important? And then why I haven't known better to do so?

Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.

Anais Nin

2009-07-26T06:56:00.002-08:00

It feels early...like 5am early, where the entire world is still asleep except for a select few who either embrace it or are forced into it. Funny though, it's actually a minute before 9... even though the whole house and neighbourhood are quiet except for the train rolling through. Nice.

My mom, sister in law, two nephews (17 and 14 years respectively) have been visiting from the east coast, along with my sister down from the north (Hi, A!). It's been a good visit, although I'm not quite as "present" as I'd like/need to be. Seems like my head is always somewheres... finishing school, working, wondering where money is going to come from... the stuff that never makes you pleasant in the evenings when you're hot and tired on top of it all. But I suppose that's a reasonable place to be considering that really, I haven't slowed down in a long time. And it's time to do so. Funny how that initial braking for me seems to take a lot.

I work tonight until 5 and then my cousin and her five kids are over. I always feel like I should throw in "and they all have the same father!" because she's two years older than me, and well, she has FIVE kids! A quiver full. Her husband's a surveyor and travels the province extensively, so much of the time she is left to her own devices. But in her words - "thank God for minivans!" I love that she takes it all in stride... a lesson I hope to soak in tonight.

The coffee pot has sounded. Time to face reality.

The trick is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same.

Carlos Castaneda

2009-07-25T07:22:00.003-08:00

I have promised myself that I would sit down and make time to write for no other reason than it keeps me both grounded and sane. Once again time has passed in a flurry of life - both good and bad, for better or worse, and all the jazz in between. My first year of marriage is complete and I have to pat myself on the back, because really, there were days where I really thought hard about becoming a widow... but we made it! Now only an infinite number to go... but if time is any indication, we'll do it because I want to do it, because I think it's important... not necessarily smart, but important... and I'm a firm believer in sticking to my guns because something usually pretty decent comes out of it in the end.

Ava is almost two. Two years of my life has been infiltrated by this 3 foot ball of energy that has the power to take over the entire room, regardless of how many people are in it. I once thought it was of utmost importance to not let her watch TV and make all her baby food from scratch... or that's what I thought that "mother in me" thought was best. I've now learned that the "me in the mother" appreciates how important it is to show her the world, to keep her safe but to let her eat dirt, get dirty, make decisions, and sometimes just flake out in front of Treehouse. The world is a big place and it has been both wonderful and harsh to me and I have relished every moment. The "me"... the pre-kid, poor decisions, Mistress of Woohoo, 7/10ths sound decision maker, 3/10ths this could be really fun or really bad "me".... wants her to take life and make it her own. To look at it all, touching if necessary, and deciding from there. I want her to think about life and appreciate that it is both big picture and little moments. And we're both getting there. I love her independence, spirit, articulation, and the ability to just go get what she wants with a little extra thought... and the simple fact that every night before she gets plunked in her bed to plan for the next day, she takes me by the hand and says "Way down, mommy, way down". So we lay down and discuss the day and make plans for the next. I am reminded each night that I am a mom, but I am still me. And she is my kid and becoming her own.

As for Peter and I... as I said, we made it through our first year. And it wasn't easy, but we're on the other side. Funny how when I'm myself without pretense, life is better for us both, eh? It's getting better, so that's where my encouragement lies. I'll be finished both my degrees this week.... done school... five years, 2 degrees, $35,000 later... done. We all feel the weight lifted. Five years is a long time to be poor (me) and a long time to be the only provider (him), but we're getting there. Would I board the Marriage Train again? not on your life! But for the one and only shot I'm determined to take at it, I would say that I've picked a good partner for me. He loves all of me, including my overwhelming ability to take over life. I am richly satisfied and my life is beginning to uncomplicate itself in the ways that I really needed it to.

I turned 33 this past April and am expecting baby #2 in December. We don't know what we're having and the excitement is different than what I had anticipated. It's like the week before Christmas where things are wrapped up tightly and no matter how many times you shake it, you just can't figure it out for sure. Ava lifted my shirt the other day, put her eye to my belly button, and said "Baby, where arrrrreee yuuuuuuu?", stood up, pointed to my boobs and said "Baby food", then promptly turned around and stood on her head. For just being 22 months, I figure that's pretty good.

So I guess you could say that I've once again reappreciated that life is about both good and shit decisions and in the whole process of stuff either one can go either way, but in all the ways it's what you make of it all. So in the end it will sort itself out for the best way it's supposed to be.

You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.

Albert Camus

2009-04-20T19:53:00.002-08:00

I so need the end to be in sight. What I'm getting is a road sign that says I have a long haul yet, but it's coming. I'm en route. I'm getting there. I've got a lot of, hell, I'll just say it... I've got A LOT OF FUCKING WORK TO DO!

April is here and quickly approaching its end, which is absolutley insane, but when I think about the winter, I can't say that I'm disappointed to feel the spring. It's been a big winter, but in hindsight (because it's always 20/20), it was good. In fact, in as many tears as it produced, as many conversations we didn't want to have but had to, I can look myself, and my husband, in the eye and appreciate that we made the right decision. We're worth this. I just had to learn how to fight and he had to learn how to listen. Oh yeah, and we had to learn to budget. I think for the very first time in my entire life, I feel like I am an adult, in an adult relationship that's healthy, and focusing on our family. School is finished completely in 7 weeks and to top it all off, we're expecting a new baby in November... and we're ecstatic. It's been scary, but worth it all. There's something to be said about trusting your heart to someone.....

Ava is growing like crazy and talking up a storm, helping me "maint" the hallway, occassionally eating the brush. Peter bought me a bike for my birthday and seat on back for her. I have a gecko tattoo on my back and the other day when we went out, my shirt lifted enough for it to show. Ava quickly whipped up my shirt and poked my back while frantically informing me "mommy! Mommy! Yizzard! Yizzard!". I said that yes, I knew it was there, so she lowered my shirt and proceeded to pet the yizzard while saying "here you go! nice yizzard, ahhh, nice! Yizzard yizzard yizzard."

I guess she likes my yizzard. I'm glad because we'll never be normal.

2009-02-18T19:49:00.003-09:00

I don't think I'm so much of a mess anymore.

Life is moving along and I believe that I just may be ok with it all. I'm still biting my nails and over eating, so not all is okey dokey, but it's coming. I no longer lay in bed in the dark and wonder about choices made. I don't hate getting up in the morning. I don't question myself so harshly anymore.

Once again things are busy. And maybe that's it, the crux of the whole thing, maybe I can't function without running my ass of with no respite in sight. Maybe I need the sheer exhaustion of everything to make everything liveable, to make it ok, satisfying.

But in saying that, I don't know how satisfied I am. I'm not unhappy but I haven't found my niche yet, my spot just for me where I am me without question. But I need to figure that out again... because atleast I am smart enough to know that the me of five years ago isn't likely to be the me of right now and I am alright with that. I started going to a mom's group, which I swore I never would, but desperate times call for equal measures. It was ok. We survived. One mom keeps calling, wanting me to come for coffee. So I will. Monday at 3:30p after the kids have their nap.

So I'm doing my thing, one foot in front of the other, making my way to wherever it is I'm intended to go.... I'm pretty sure that I'm moving forward. Pretty sure. Peter and I are well. We laugh more now and seem to be settling in. I think we're going to tile the kitchen backsplash.

My kid is growing like crazy, talking and taking life in massive strides. She inspires me. It's true when whoever said that having a kid is like wearing your heart on the outside. They nailed it. Even in those moments where you really just want to sell them. But let's face it, without me even saying anything, you can easily tell she's pretty friggin' awesome.

2009

2009-01-03T16:37:00.002-09:00

Oh nine has entered, not wreaking havoc, but deciding its course without input from me. I feel somewhat left out in the cold and right now, really not enjoying my life. If I were to be passionate and careless I would nearly dare say that I hate it. But I'm not. So right now I'll just say that things are hard. I feel lost and alone and while not abandoned, I feel like I only have me to keep me warm at night... and nothing to make on a fire with.

How many times have I said that times pass.... good or bad they move on, move forward, move to the side and let me through... so I will trust that this will also. So I sat and let myself cry tonight... to really open up and sob, to let the walls around me know that something in me hurts quite badly right now and to say without words that I don't feel like this time will pass or move on or move over.... that my fire is out and there is nothing left but to wrap myself in my own arms and wait for dawn to arrive. but it feels like it never will. that i will just wake up to grey and the sun won't ever shine. and while i appreciate that these are 'moments' it doesn't stop the fact that my heart is hurting far more than i have felt it hurt in years.... and the eternal optimist in me rings through and says atleast you're still feeling! and all i want to do is say fuck off and leave me alone because that's where i am anyways. alone. cold. disheartened.

But then at the very second where I am certain where the very ground I am on is going to shatter and fall into an abyss of eternal uncertainty, this little body peeks around the corner, running up and lays her head on my leg saying hi mommy! in the most animated voice I have ever heard. And she kisses my leg, hands me a "gook" of birds exclaiming it's a "gucky" followed by "up-ee", and instantaneously rights my world, realigning my proverbial axes.

tonight I'm just tired.

For You :)

2008-12-15T07:05:00.002-09:00

Christmas is in 10 days. And I love Christmas... like as is loveloveloveloveLOOOOVE Christmas! When we were kids we lived with my Grandfather in a house that was old. It creaked and groaned and seemed to take days for the wood furnace to heat up enough that your legs didn't ache from your feet being on a cold floor. Funny how we didn't think about that as kids... all we knew was that when you woke up you went quickly to one of the big registers and sat on it until the chill had passed.

We weren't allowed out of bed before 7am. As a kid this was a great travesty for me since many of my friends always boasted about being up at 2 and 3 in the morning. No us. We could look in our stocking if we got up at 6, but other than that, the treasures under the tree waited until the whistle blew at the mill about a mile and a half from our house. It seemed extra loud on Christmas morning, but that was probably because we waited so eagerly. I don't ever remember a Christmas where mom went to bed. I'm proud to say that I lovingly carry on that tradition... even though it drives Peter nuts. It's good for us all.

So the whistle would blow and my grandfather would arrive home shortly thereafter. He was the night watchman and would come home smelling like fresh pine and spruce and to this day it is one of the most wonderful smells I know. This is something satisfying about it that gives me a sense of rest and calm. Maybe it's the earthiness of it, the rawness... the fact that there is nothing artificial about it. Dad would have started the fire by now, the old house chugging like an old steam engine heading up a long hill with a heavy load... it would make it there but it might take awhile.

For me it has never been about the stuff. Don't get me wrong, I love the stuff... love to buy it, try it on, wrap it, unwrap it, bask in the sheer stuff-ness of it all... but it's more than that. One of Peter's old friends won 30 million dollars a few years back on the lottery and all I can think of is how sad Christmas must be... they don't help out at shelters or lend a hand or donate or be a first person involved anywhere and I think that's a shame. When you have so much and give little there seems to be some serious joy lacking somewhere. But to each their own. I think I said awhile back that I would make a great philanthropist.

So here I am. It's been -36 since I've arrived just west of where I had been. We are slowly settling into our home as a family... a unit working together. And while we're trying our best to sort things through, you see the struggles and triumphs all rolled together... and you see us making up our minds as to which one it will be. It's not perfect but it's pretty darn close to being just right. And while I'm feeling like I have little direction as to where I'm supposed to go and craving the routine I left behind, I know that it will come... eventually.... and in ways I never expected. Our little storybook town sent out a list of places to volunteer and right now they need adult literacy tutors... and I can't think of anything more satisfying to do.

The tree is up, Barney is on... which makes me laugh since the kid that would be watching it is in bed... soon we will gather ourselves to pull together our Christmas grocery shopping... and we have much to be thankful for. Now if we could just get the blowup Santa and Snowman up we'd be all set...............

2008-11-16T15:51:00.003-09:00

Time is gone. Three weeks ago I had six left. Now I have three and I feel rather like the monkeys that fell out of bed. I finished a four and a half hour drive in a deluge of water and wind warning from Halifax to here about four and a half hours ago. And upon some careful consideration, have decided that I have been fortunate to have been crying / welling up / sniffling / avoiding conversation since about 11am. Why, you may ask? Because I was at the home of my dearest friend for the weekend... and I had to say see-ya-later without a specific reference as to when that would exactly be. There is just something that one cannot put one's finger on or find the perfect words to describe a relationship that one has with another, unless you have been in one yourself. She was right when she said we should have married one another instead of the ones that we did. But since both of us prefer hard wood over carpet, I supose our seemingly senseless decisions have made sense on some plain.

It's pretty neat to know that you are each other's light house, guiding through the storms... and encouraging one another to not hang back but rather go surf the big waves. You're right... it was goodbye... but only to that chapter. And let's face it... we've got ourselves one hell of a book without being anywhere near the end!

Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You, too? Thought I was the only one."

C.S. Lewis

Eleven

2008-10-22T15:43:00.004-08:00

You learn a lot of things when you teach and ninety eight percent of it comes from the most unlikely places. Like this in grade four language arts.

And it made sense.

Eleven

What they don't understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you're eleven, you're also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don't. You open your eyes and everything's just like yesterday, only it's today. And you don't feel eleven at all. You feel like you're still ten. And you are - underneath the year that makes you eleven.

Like some days you might say something stupid, and that's the part of you that's still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama's lap because you're scared, and that's the part of you that's five. And maybe one day when you're all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you're three, and that's okay. That's what I tell Mama when she's sad and needs to cry. Maybe she's feeling three.

Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That's how being eleven years old is.

You don't feel eleven. Not right away. It takes a few days, weeks even, sometimes even months before you say Eleven when they ask you. And you don't feel smart eleven, not until you're almost twelve. That's the way it is.

Only today I wish I didn't have only eleven years rattling inside me like pennies in a tin Band-Aid box. Today I wish I was one hundred and two instead of eleven because if I was one hundred and two I'd have known what to say when Mrs. Price put the red sweater on my desk. I would've known how to tell her it wasn't mine instead of just sitting there with that look on my face and nothing coming out of my mouth.

"Whose is this?" Mrs. Price says, and she holds the red sweater up in the air for all the class to see. "Whose? It's been sitting in the coatroom for a month."

"Not mine," says everybody, "Not me."

"It has to belong to somebody," Mrs. Price keeps saying, but nobody can remember. It's an ugly sweater with red plastic buttons and a collar and sleeves all stretched out like you could use it for a jump rope. It's maybe a thousand years old and even if it belonged to me I wouldn't say so.

Maybe because I'm skinny, maybe because she doesn't like me, that stupid Sylvia Saldivar says, "I think it belongs to Rachel." An ugly sweater like that, all raggedy and old, but Mrs. Price believes her. Mrs. Price takes the sweater and puts it right on my desk, but when I open my mouth nothing comes out.

"That's not, I don't, you're not...Not mine, " I finally say in a little voice that was maybe me when I was four.

"of course it's yours," Mrs. Price says, "I remember you wearing it once." Because she's older and the teacher, she's right and I'm not.

Not mine, not mine, not mine, but Mrs. Price is already turning to page thrity-two, and math problem number four. I don't know why but all of a sudden I'm feeling sick inside, like the part of me that's three wants to come out of my eyes, only I squeeze them shut tight and bite down on my teeth real hard and try to remember today I am eleven, eleven. Mama is making a cake for me for tonight, and when Papa comes home everbody will sing Happy birthday, happy birthday to you.

But when the sick feeling goes away and I open my eyes, the red sweater's still sitting there like a big red mountain. I move the red sweater to the corner of my desk with my ruler. I move my pencil and books and eraser as far from it as possible. I even move my chair a little to the right. Not mine, not mine, not mine.

In my head I'm thinking how long till lunchtime, how long till I can take the red sweater and throw it over the schoolyard fence, or leave it hanging on a parking meater, or bunch it up into a little ball and toss it in the alley. Except when math period ends Mrs. Price says loud and in front of everybody, "Now Rachel, that's enough," because she sees I've shoved the red sweater to the tippy-tip corner of my desk and it's hanging all over the edge like a waterfall, but I don't care.

"Rachel," Mrs. Price says. She says it like she's getting mard. "You put that sweater on right now and no more nonsense."

"But it's not -- "

"Now!" Mrs. Price says.

This is when I wish I wasn't eleven, because all the years inside of me - ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, and one - are pushing at the back of my eyes when I put one arms through one sleeve of the sweater that smells like cottage cheese, and then the other arm through the other and stand there with my arms apart like if the weater hurts me and it does, all itchy and full of germs that aren't mine.

That's when everything I've been holding in since this morning, since when Mrs. Price put the sweater on my desk, finally lets go, and all of a sudden I'm crying in front of everybody. I wish I was invisible but I'm not. I'm eleven and it's my birthday today and I'm crying like I'm three in front of everybody. I put my head down on the desk and bury my face in my stupid clown-sweater arms. My face all hot and spit coming out of my mouth because I can't stop the little animal noises from coming out of me, until there aren't any more tears left in my eyes, and it's just my body shaking like when you have the hiccups, and my whole head hurts like when you drink milk too fast.

But the worst part is right before the bell rings for lunch. That stupid Phyllis Lopez, who is even dumber than Sylvia Saldivar, says she remembers the red sweater is hers! I take if off right away and give it to her, only Mrs. Price pretends like everything's okay.

Today I am eleven. There's a cake Mama's making for tonight, and when Papa comes home from work we'll eat it. There'll be candles and presents and everybody will sing happy birthday, happy birthday to you, Rachel, only it's too late.

I'm eleven today. I'm eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, and one, but I wish I was one hundred and two. I wish I was anything but eleven, because I want today to be far away already, far away like a runaway balloon, like a tiny o in the sky, so tiny-tiny you have to close your eyes to see it.

From Woman Hollering Creek Copyright 1991 by Sandra Cisneros

2008-10-01T15:25:00.003-08:00

It's been a long time since I've been here... and I can honestly say that it's not because there hasn't been anything happening. In fact, it's the opposite - too much happening, too much to take in, too much too much. But I'm here now and I suppose the old adage of better late than never could fit. A couple of weeks ago there was a fall festival in our small town and part of the festivities was a baby contest. I didn't put my kid in and it wasn't because I didn't think she was cute. No, it was more about my own insecurities, about someone else judging the outside, about someone possibly, impossibly, unfathomably, perhaps even having an inkling that my beautiful child could even remotely be less beautiful than another's. And I couldn't deal with that. And I think that's the same road my blogging took. I couldn't write unless it was important or unless I had a great prose with a great ending. I couldn't wait to see the numbers of who might stop by to see what I had to say. Needless to say, my writing wasn't about my writing anymore and the fun left. So, like my refusal and sheer satisfaction received from not putting my child into a judging frenzy, my writing too lies here in all its imperfections with a bold old, in your face, screw you because it's not about you. It's about me.

It seems like everytime I get on this I react like an old man and wonder where the time could have ever gotten to. And while it may be a geratric question, it is still and honest one and the answer still eludes me. I have no idea. I swear I turned around last week and I just got married. But here I am, October 1st on a wednesday night in both shock and awe and a side note of holy shit thrown on the end. Because, really, holy shit it's October 1st.

I started my student teaching the last week of August. It runs for 15 weeks, which takes me till around the 5th of December and there is no part of it that is for the faint of heart. But I'm learning. I'm learning that I love it more than I can put into words and the very things that exhaust me and send me to bed early are the exact same things that make me get up and look forward to the day. All my years of tutoring are paying off in working with kids with needs... and not just the needs of needing a teacher assistant or not being able to read... but needs that say I don't have anyplace to go for another two hours, can I hang out here kind of needs. The unspoken ones that speak volumes. I learned very quickly that while I can work my guts out to make change within young lives, the reality of many is that I can't change home. And while it was a tough one to swallow, it made a lot of sense and helped me to stop chasing my tail. I can clap and cheer and support, but life is still life and, sadly, sometimes life overwhelms us all. Anthony is in grade 11 and reads at a beginning grade 1 level. He knows about 32 out of 400 sight words... the, a, at... all the ones we take for granted. One night I was out for a walk and he was sitting outside. He wanted me to meet his little sister. She's five months old and he says that he can "keep her calm when she starts to screech". His mom met me at the door and he introduced me. he said "she helps me at school" and she said that she hoped I knew that he had to be modified, that he didn't get it, that he was stupid. And I stood there trying to not look stunned because Anthony didn't look stunned. he didn't look offended or hurt or even upset. He just calmed his baby sister and smiled. I said my good evening's and continued on my walk, trying to understand and appreciate when "stupid" became the dirtiest, vilest word I had ever heard. Because I will tell you this: Anthony isn't stupid, he just doesn't read or write very well. But he gets that when you read to him out of a book about a character that is "different" or one who doesn't fit in in all the ways we think someone should fit in, he gets it. He gets that he's different but not once has it stopped him from trying or doing his best to encourage. And the kids in his class see that. They see that his heart knows and his head is working on catching up. I think about Anthony a lot because he gets the things I sometime miss.

On other fronts, I started journaling again. I kept a journal for years, but somehow let it drift to the wayside. So I picked it back up and started jotting again and it feels really good... like I found an old pair of sweatpants that I was sure had gotten thrown out, only to find them and discover they still fit. And in it I've let myself go, to write once again for an audience of one. My sanity. In there I have managed to sort out that Peter has lung disease but he's ok... that our daughter is a year old... we have a new home that we will settle into in december, and all the little details that pass in and out of me everyday.

And I'm still tutoring. Kali-jo is in grade 6 and comes every monday and wednesday night. She's a beautiful girl who doesn't know where or how she's supposed to fit, and wonder's who she's supposed to be. She and Dakota, her hockey buddy friend, arrived tonight. He didn't have anywhere else to go and it was cold and he wondered if he could hang out with her and listen to her read. It was 7:30p and neither one had eaten. Fall is here and the night's are getting a frosty bite to them. He was feeling it. So in they came, Kali read and they both munched on popcorn and some carrots and informed me that pickeled eggs were their favourite and did I ever make them? Yes, I said, I did make them. Would you make me some? And it was one of those stupid questions what was so not a big deal but at the same time was a monumental one, huge beyond belief kind of big deal. So I said sure and it was immediately followed by a when. I had already been cooking and puttering around so I pulled out a pot and put the eggs on to cook and got the pickling stuff together. They watched and lingered and neither one wanted to leave. And it hurt my heart that there weren't mother's wondering where they were. But then I reminded myself that life was funny and seen differently through different eyes and if I was in their shoes maybe I would see through their eyes. I guess you could say that I've learned that I can't change the world... but I can make my little nook a little more bearable.

Ava had chocolate cake to celebrate her first birthdays. I'm a firm believer that chocolate cake should be used in moments such as birthdays, holidays, and really, Monday mornings. I would say she agrees with me. We had to fill the tub twice. Icing is tricky.

Live with intention. Walk to the edge. Listen hard. Practice wellness. Play with abandon. Laugh. Choose with no regret. Appreciate your friends. Continue to learn. Do what you love. Live as if this is all there is.

Mary Anne Radmacher.

2008-08-09T08:30:00.003-08:00

I think I purposefully fell off the blogging bandwagon. It's been a long time and I can't say that I regret the break in any way, shape, or form, but I am feeling rested and life has settled back into the unpredictable pattern that I have come to love and embrace as my life.

Since my last bit of blathering, a decent amount of living has gone on. In many ways I feel re-routed... or re-rooted.... I can't decide which one is more fitting, but somehow either homonym is fitting. On July 12th I got married to a wonderful man named Peter. We had an amazing weekend with perfect weather and so much laughter. I felt... enchanting.... like I could do nothing wrong and love abounded and the world sat on its proper axis. The sun shone, a light breeze blew, and there wasn't even a moment of humidity. It was, for all intense purposes, perfect.

It's been a big month. We sold our home and moved temporarily into a spare house that my parents' own. Peter returned west for a full medical in order to begin a new job. It was not a question or concern... or really, even an inkling that anything would be, well.... wrong. But there is.

Ava and I arrived Thursday in Edmonton around six in the evening. Peter picked us up at the airport, happy and relieved to have us near. We, because that's how it works now, have another doctor's appointment on Monday to find out what's next after finding out about high cholesterol (which really, when we thought about it, wasn't a surprise), and lung disease. While prone to slow progression, there is just something mildly enormous about those particular two words. Lung disease. But thankfully, I am the optimist out of the two of us and Peter is relieved to have me here. We're a team and we're both happy to have backup.

There are two of us in the room right now. One will be 11 months old tomorrow and has just had a gargantuan shit. When daddy wakes up we're going to the zoo. Our life is good... we just need to sort out the details.

A good marriage is at least 80 percent good luck in finding the right person at the right time. The rest is trust.

Nanette Newman

2008-04-22T15:31:00.003-08:00

The last while has seen me put a valiant effort into living my life purposefully, intending on putting one foot in front of the other, looking and searching for the next place to step. It's a difficult thing for me since I have spent the majority of my 32 years in a limbo, held only by the seat of my pants. Needless to say, it's a real learning curve. I think a lot. I toss a lot of things over, mulling them through, not necessarily coming to any particular answers, but working along the path that may lead to my sorting them out. I have moments where it's hard to remember the past and then moments after that where I find it hard to sit still in the present. I'm still leaving the future to fend for itself when the time comes, but as I say that I am reminded that perhaps there should be a little more prep work done regarding that.

One of my bridesmaids is organized to the hilt. She makes lists and doesn't lose or forget to bring them. She stays on track and gets done what she needs to, enjoying her time but not wasting it. So I've been taking a cue and making lists of my own, doing my best to cut out the unessentials unless there is time to dwaddle or play. What I am discovering is that there is more time to dwaddle and play because my list makes my essentials quite easy to complete. I laugh because I am so certain that there are so many out there that think that this is silly. But I have to tell you that my life has been easier since not forgetting my list.

I woke up to warm sunshine. It's been quite lovely here, allowing us out for wonderful afternoon walks that don't require a dozen layers to keep warm. The snow is nearly gone and you can see the buds on the trees starting to emerge. Last night I had 13 deer milling about my back yard munching on grass. Mama's and babies coming out from a long winter in. Kind of like Ava and me.

I got an email this morning that surprised me. It was from a boy that I lost my virginity to when I was 25 on the night that was his 26th birthday. He's 33 now with a little girl of his own and a soon to be wife. But the email was nice. It wasn't about undying love or being screwed over, but rather the hey how's it going kind that said drop me a line because I think of you often. He told me that I made a great impact on his life. A good kind of impact. And then later today I ran into J and it was all over so quickly that I never once had a moment for my heart to race or my belly to lurch. It was all so unplanned and unexpected, but all so ok and grown up, like two paths going in opposite directions but eventually leading back to use the same bridge before they branched out in different ways again. So my drive home was introspective. I thought about love and choices and what made someone choose to fall in love with me or I with them. I also thought about what I thought was love and if it really was so important to be able to separate sex from it. And what was it that made someone look at someone else and go yes. this. is. the. one. Who am I to say that I have gotten it right this time when so many other times I landed on my ass? And I thought about marriage and life and my life and marriage that was leading to Peter and I thought you know, it's ok. And I smiled, because it was. There was something that I can't put into words because maybe it's just not meant to be put that way... but it's there and it makes perfect sense to me and to him and we're really the only ones that matter in the whole shamoozle. A long time ago a friend of mine gave me a wall hanging. It says You are the kind of friend who would overlook my broken fence to admire my flowers. And that's what made it all make sense. To just see through what's busted to get to what's really beautiful.

This is one of Ava's Easter pictures. The look on her face is as if she is saying "CHEESE". The best thing ever was that there was a dangly thing on her flouncy dress. Apparently dangly things make my daughter's world a better place.

The heart has its reasons which reason knows not of.

Blaise Pascal

2008-04-19T06:18:00.006-08:00

Last night was awesome. In fact, I would even go so far to say that it was fuckin' eh!. I am however, very tired and more than a bit dry.

2008-04-17T05:08:00.003-08:00

Once again time has snuck away... atleast this time it has been into warmer days with a little less snow each afternoon. We have managed to get out walking almost everyday, and the day's we seemed stuck in the house we turned up the music really loud, proceeding to dance and sing without any particular care or reservation. Needless to say, inside or out, the days have been wonderful. My semester has officially ended and I write my final exam tomorrow night at 7pm. After that I'm intending to drink to excess and dance my ass off. Peter lands next Friday night at 8:10p and will be home for 9 days. We have things to do and things not to do... I'm more looking forward to the latter. I'm hoping it includes an all-day naked day. We really enjoy those.

I still can't believe that April is half finished. And I know - I've said it for every bloody month of this winter season, but it still hasn't taken away the shock, or awe, of it. Ava was 7 months old on the 10th and officially has 2 teeth through and more about to arrive any day. Sunday night we went to Grampie's for a visit and he remarked that she had outnumbered him in the chomper department. Needless to say, he makes everything not-too-crunchy so Ava thoroughly enjoyed a rather large portion of his fresh homemade apple pie. She's sitting up by herself and everywhere she goes in her walker is at a dead run. Not only will she get there, she'll get there fast and take quick corners! Her father is very proud of her.

The last month has been busy, big, and generally all around thoughtful. There were numerous times I had gone to sit down and write it out in hopes of sorting it out, but I'm sure, as most at this age and stage in our lives, time doesn't always allow such indulgences. But it's been good. It's been a big learning curve, and granted I haven't gotten it right all the time, I am pleased to see that we did a little better than just making it through. We've enjoyed ourselves, taken stock of our blunders with both tears and laughs, and kept on keepin' on. We've done alright. We've taken a look at the big picture and tried to keep that in focus... not necessarily blurring out the minute details, but keeping in mind that they're not all that's out there. My sister gave me a Patty Smyth cd about a hundred years ago. Song #5 is called Out There and it's always been one of my favourites, kind of like it was my unknown theme song about looking and searching for something you can't taste or touch or see. Somehow it's all come full circle, as most things do, and I think I can understand it a different way, in a new light. It's all right here and that's a pretty big deal to come to.

Someone said that they were glad that the winter was over and that life could begin again, that they were tired of seeing everything as dead. I thought about that for a long time, and granted it was a long winter. But I didn't see everything as dead... I saw it as resting, of taking a break, pulling it together for the upcoming season of growing and change, of stretching and digging a little deeper. It was like the long cold winter tried to ingrain into us about how important it was to enjoy the heat of the sunshine when it eventually arrived. We've been doing a lot of wedding stuff and we had to choose the song for the first dance. We chose Broken Road by Rascal Flatts. Neither one of us are particularly big country buffs, but we liked what it said. It made sense in the same way a long winter does... that you have to sort through a lot of things and endure some nasty weather, but eventually spring comes with sunshine. And somewhere, through all the muck and muddle of life and its seasons we find someone that suits us atleast 50% of the time. The other 50% makes those allowances for growing and changing and understanding that not once are we ever the same people but that we'll keep on working on what we started and see where it leads. We never build a house that's 100% basement or foundation because then we would have no character. We have to leave room for building on, tearing down, and opening up a wall or two. Besides how arrogant am I to expect perfection when I can't even come close to giving it myself?

I had an aunt on my grandmother's side named Mable, but we knew her as Mape. Mape wore sparkley things with purple coats and hats with at the very least, one large dramatic feather. She wasn't a large woman, but I think she was the inspiration for the the Red Hat Society. For as long as I could remember my dad always called me "Little Mape" because I would emerge from a closet adorned in scarves, heels, and anything that would catch even a little bit of light. I bought Ava a hat a couple of weeks ago on a website called mom4life.com. Dad informed me that I was passing on the "Mape" tradition. I said that was good because not just anyone could pull it off.

I set out on a narrow way many years ago

Hoping I would find true love along the broken road

But I got lost a time or two

Wiped my brow and kept pushing through

I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you

Every long lost dream led me to where you are

Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars

Pointing me on my way into your loving arms

This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road

That led me straight to you

2008-03-19T17:30:00.005-08:00

I think that today was one of the best days I have ever had. Today I clad my daughter in a dress for the very first time of her very young life, decked myself out in a skirt, and went to the library for an easter egg hunt. We watched a puppet show, played with kids of all ages, hunted, chatted, and had, well, fun. I nearly cried tonight when I got home because all I wanted to do was be a mom, and how sad it was that this was our first time "out", just the two of us, doing the most important things that the two of us need to be doing together. I didn't worry or care about degrees no matter how close they were to being done, or work, or assignments, or all those silly things that I allow to demand too much of my attention. Today I dressed up my kid and together we sought out the elusive Bunny. Today we were a team... a mom and a kid... and we got it. I think that after six months and a moment to slow down that I finally got it. I finally got what was supposed to be front and center.... and that very thing is teething right now.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about doing what you were built to do, versus what you were meant to do. I've been thinking that I've been built well... sturdy, good sense of humour, relatively strong intelligence... to do a lot of things. I'm capable of attempting a good chunk of things and seeing them through. But it's the second part that's been changing... the meant to be part. So I've been giving myself time to think about it. We were away for 2 weeks and had moments to just be... to sit still and collect dust and not create whirlwinds... to make supper and just lay on the floor to goof off. We sat in the sun in the window and we remembered how much we needed that. I understood a lot of what I didn't know I didn't understand.

This is Ava and I this afternoon. I don't like how I look, but the lesson of the day says something else entirely. It says that I'm needed as a mom, not a beauty queen. And that the best moments seem silly until you do them... and then you wonder why you don't do them more.

If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do well matters very much.

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

2008-03-10T08:12:00.002-08:00

I can't believe that it's been nearly a month again since my last post. And I will reiterate (as I always do) that I still don't know where time has escaped to. Ava is 6 months old today and is talking to me loudly from the bedroom, informing me that she is not quite ready for her nap. And the fact that she was falling asleep in her walker only moments before is nothing short of a moot point. Utterly inconsequential. I give her 10 minutes and she'll be snoring like a beer drinker.

We landed in Edmonton almost two weeks ago with absolutley no trouble. In fact, I don't think it would have been possible for me to buy a better kid. We had a bit of a tough day the morning after, but after a good walk in some much needed fresh air, and a 4 hour nap later, we were on our way to as close as we can get to normalacy.

It was so good to see Peter. I really missed him even though we have spent the majority of our relationship across the country from one another. He missed his girls and I suspect that he will have a hard time letting us go again on Wednesday (even though he will be more than happy to once again have some sleep). He was quite upset when Ava didn't know him at first... she went to him, but I had to be in the room and well within view. He had a tough time with that, especially after having spent so much time together, just the two of them. But, like all things that are initially jumbled and tough, we worked through and ironed out the bumps. He booked his ticket home for nine days at the end of April and thankfully it is only 6 weeks away. After that visit we have a longer stretch, but then that should be the last one. We went house looking last weekend to get an idea of what we needed / wanted / could afford, and never ever EVER would I have even imagined owning a $400,000 home while uttering the words "you know, that's not a bad deal". Holy shit. On a more interesting note, that if you know us probably won't surprise you, our real estate agent is a former stripper. We met her last spring through friends of friends, and you just can't help but like her. She apparently is good at what she does since she bought a new Cadilac Escalade and last summer a new Harley. She was quite excited to hear that Peter was giving me his Harley. She said we can go riding together! I said that would be awesome except that I have to learn to ride it first. She said me too! Somehow I suspect there's a kidered soul in there.

We've been in Fort McMurray for the past week and I have had opportunity to catch up with the few friends that I made up here before. My neighbour's sons came over yesterday (5 and 3 yrs). The oldest was helping me change Ava's bum and when I took off her diaper his eyes got really big and he looked very concerned. He looked at me and said what happened? Because it was very obvious she looked different down there from he and his brother. Does she look different? I asked. He nodded very solemenly and said very matter of factly: she broke.

Ava has a new duck tub. It's a big rubber duck that she can sit in. She squeels when I make the beak quack. I almost wish I had one.

2008-02-14T19:47:00.006-09:00

Another Valentine's day over for another year. I suppose I could be a bit more emotional about it if I gave a particular rat's ass over it. Peter was concerned about me not getting his card today. I said my card? what for? Valentine's day dear. Oh yeah, I suppose it is. Ok if I just wait to bring yours with me? that's fine. good good.

Here on the east coast we're having a very old fashioned winter. If Ava were old enough to appreciate a good snowbank to play on / break a leg off of, she would be in her glory because they're about 12ft out back. In fact I helped my soon-to-be father in law shovel off my roof... and I jumped off... and went about 2 1/2 whole feet in straight, downward vertical. We had another big storm yesterday that finished off with freezing rain and enough to be more than a little bit of a mess. Local schools were closed for two days and even the university, the hallowed halls of UNB decided to close yesterday at noon and reopen today at the same time.

Tonight my daughter is at her grandparents. I needed time to get things done and she went for a sleep over. I was in hopes of getting to bed early and sleeping late since I seem to have a lack-of-sleep induced headache that has lasted for several days. But not-shockingly here I am, five minutes to 1am, downloading music, drinking wine and enjoying a little stevie wonder. He just called to say he loved me. And he means it from the bottom of his heart. Kind of a nice way to round out the day.

Things are good. Life is puttering away day by day, minute by minute, and I'm doing my best to make the best of each one. I can tell spring is on its way because I'm feeling antsy for a change, which, for anyone that knows me, is not a big shocker. But this time it's a different kind... a subtle one... the kind where you just want to wear something light and airy rather than something heavy and dark. Where I'm inspired to paint things yellow and plant flowers. It's not about upheavel or turning things on their side. It's like I've finally arrived... finally made it to that second chance, and here I am, just wanting to make the best of it. It leaves me feeling weightless, likes this big unburdening happened and I didn't even know it until I could lift my arms over my head and spin in circles without getting dizzy. It's the closest I've ever gotten to a straight line, lacking nothing, having everything. And none of which I ever imagined. It is not a bitter winter.

Peter got mad the other day and quit his job, but bless his heart he's still there, putting in the days until something comes along. His patience seems to be paying off because jobs are coming through. He asked me what I thought about moving to Calgary and I said that would be fine. I'll happily take any opportunity that lands us in the same time zone. Even better in the same city and house.

I have my msn messenger up. I rarely chat on it but there's something strangely satisfying when I put up my status as "out to lunch". Regardless of day or not, somehow it just seems to make sense. All strung out and a-ok. it's not a bad place to be.

This is a picture of me from about 10 years ago. Mom and I were whale watching off the northern tip of Vancouver Island that summer she came to visit. My hair's not as long anymore and my body has changed, but I can't help but know that the second picture is me all fulfilled.

Wherever a man may happen to turn, whatever a man may undertake, he will always end up by returning to the path which nature has marked out for him.

Goethe

2008-02-01T06:02:00.000-09:00

Believe it or not, I spent the majority of my Sociology of Education class yesterday afternoon thinking about sex. I thought about positions and ideas and the general mechanics of it. I thought about what I could wear (and not), and things I could do that where both typical and wonderfully dirty. And I really wanted it. But I still had 45 minutes left of class and Peter was (and still is) 3,000 miles west. And not surprisingly he's never very happy with the idea of me having sex with someone other than him. Which I can appreciate.

On less physical fronts, I'm in absolute shock that we are solidly into February. The school term is slipping away too quickly and I wonder where I will find the time to accomplish all that needs done. But as history has dictated, time will pass, things will get accomplished, and everything with any relavence and importance will get done.

I really don't have much of anything exciting to tell. No great tales of adventure or woe. Ava is officially rolling over and is cultivating a great belly laugh. She loves sweet potatoes and peas and loves to hold her toes as she perfects loud farts. They roll out of her in true beer-drinker fashion. Her daddy would be proud. Speaking of her dad, we leave to see him in 3 weeks from tonight and the timing is perfect. We are in need of a break, he needs to see his girls, and from my opening paragraph it's obvious that I apparently need to have sex.

I had lunch with an old friend a couple of weeks ago Friday. It was her due date and she looked just about ready to pop, but at the same time looked so so good. A lot has gone on in her life the past three years and for the first time in probably 10 years, she looks so peaceful. We talked about a lot of things... her need for attention.... my need to always be moving and searching... and then we talked about how that has changed, and how thankful we both were for that change. I told her that should would soon understand her mother's position in her life and that she would make sense in the areas she could never make sense of before. Atleast that's how it was with me. Funny how kids bring out such things in you... things you always kept closed... locked with forgotten keys. And how thankful they all make you in humbled ways. She just gave birth last week to a beautiful little girl and suddenly understands that those sleepless nights and crying in the form of this tiny creature that requires so much but can withstand just as equally, can bring a rest that was unknown before. It's quite a thing to go from kid to parent.

Speaking of parents, mom came up the other weekend for a visit. She's been having a tough go of things and needed an ear with no great voice attached to it. She needed to lean instead of standing tall and I was honored that she chose me. We talked and laughed and had a good cry and I reminded her of everything she was so good at and agreed with everything she was right about. I've had my kid and I get my mom now. Funny how always get more than you bargained for. I went to grampie's later that afternoon and he made me supper. My 88 year old grandfather made me supper, played with my daughter, and cut me a big piece of his homemade spice cake. He said the packaged stuff's not the same and if he's going to eat it than he'll damn well make it himself. And it was good and I went back for seconds. I told him he wasn't good for my diet and he told me I was foolish. He told me I was a good mother who didn't lay around and had a good kid who you could tell was loved. He also told me about have a big station wagon that he could put all of his own 9 kids in plus the neighbour's 3. He said that they wouldn't be all the way out to the main road before every one of them would be sound asleep.... but that they would wake up as soon as it was time for icecream. And his eyes sparkled and he reminded me of my mom because behind a very big no shit attitude was a heart that bulged out of everywhere. And I was very acutely reminded that I come from good stock where family is important and it extends past your own immediate realm. And how important it was to sit still and enjoy some tea. And I guess that's what it was about when I had lunch with my friend. We discovered just how satisfying it was to sit still and drink some tea. It makes you slow down for a time and take in your life.

Peter called last night and informed me that he "threw a bad one" at work, which is slang for "I freaked out". And I told him I was proud of him, he puts up with too much all the time and he has no idea how to do anything half-assed. But I suppose he wouldn't be him if he didn't. Anyways, he has put in his notice and we will be in Edmonton soon. I'll finish my degrees at the U of A and finally we'll be together on permanent footing. For now that's enough.

Ava will be 5 months old on Sunday. This was her last Friday. She's pretty darn cute and completely full of it. I'd like to think she comes by it honestly.

A good heart is better than all the heads in the world.

Edward Bulwer-Lytton

2008-01-21T19:09:00.000-09:00

It feels like I'm going to be tired forever. I said that I would give a kidney to sleep until noon, but as soon as it was out of my mouth I knew that I would still be awake, waiting and listening for a little noise from a little body that I couldn't wait to see. But sometimes I just don't think I can do it, can't keep it all together. Then I have to laugh and think that really, my concern isn't so much as even keeping it all together, so much as losing really important pieces after it has all blown apart. Puzzles aren't complete without all the pieces.

Ava survived another round of needles and I guess in saying that, so did I because sometimes I think it's way harder on me than her. This time I had to hold her leg and it was awful. Because when I was standing over top of her, smiling and talking, a bad nurse with a mean needle was stabbing her in the leg. And the look on her face said you asshole. I can't believe you just did that to me. But I had. I did it to her. One of those necessary evils of being a parent. The proverbial dogma of "it's good for you". Whether it's good for me or not doesn't take the sting away. Only time does that.

Interestingly enough while at Ava's appointments I had asked my doctor if he heard anything back from the hospital and he had. I have stage one something or other - a big word I can't pronounce let alone wrap my head around its meaning. But I'll need treatment so we'll have to decide on that in a month or so. I'm not surprised. Maybe I should. Maybe I should cry and moan and say whoa is me. But I really am ok and I'll continue to be this way because that's the way things go around here. They're not perfect, but neither am I, so I suppose that's good enough because we're still ok. When I sat in that waiting room in my cotton johnny shirt with a polyester robe and paper slippers, surrounded by women that were going through the exact same thing for very different reasons, we all knew that somehow we'd be ok. And it's funny how not one of us knew the other's name but because we sat in a small steril room waiting and wondering about what happened on the other side of the door, we talked about the very most intimate parts of our lives - the joys and sorrows that were so closely intertwined that we really didn't know which was joy and which was sorrow because everything important held both. Funny how someone that you just don't know can offer such a touchless touch at the most wonderful time. How one had been trying for two years to get pregnant and was at her wits end and how relieved she was to find that someting was wrong, broken inside of her, but not broken because of her, not her fault. There are things you remember and things you forget but wondering if your broken inside isn't one of them. It's a quiet pain that hurts like you can't exlain unless you know. And somehow in that small room we all knew. Another was a librarian. She thought about going to be a teacher because she loved it... loved to learn and loved to see it in others. The third was a mom of three teenage boys. Her voice broke when she said that someting couldn't happen because who would make dinner and make them mind their manners? Who would cheer them on and nag them about homework, yell at them when they needed it. Who would hug them? And I thought about Ava and Peter and yesterday and the day before that. And I knew, somewhere, shit would happen, but it would be ok. Because it's funny that shit helps grow the most beautiful flowers and that's the simple truth of it. Shit, rain and sunshine pretty much sums it all up.

I miss Peter. I miss extra hands and good hugs that say it really will be ok even when I might say it but not believe it. But now is only a time and it too will pass. I guess that's the beauty of this silly life. There's always something more.

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

Kahlil Gibran

2008-01-11T17:34:00.001-09:00

I just checked on the baby and now it's my turn to go to bed. I'm exhausted. It's been a big couple of days and my body is ready not just for sleep, but for some actual rest. Somehow it seems that key ingredient has been missing.

For now the skinny is that my pap test was telling the truth and that all my bad cells were present and accounted for. They did a biopsy and then took the top layer of my cercix off, which could be placed into the same class as a dentist hitting a nerve when you were certain that you were entirely frozen. Only I wasn't frozen so it pretty much just sucked. So for now I wait. If treatment is needd I find out in a few weeks, if not, then I'll hear back in 3-4 months. So here I am, sitting and waiting and understanding that patience can be confused with exhaustion.

Mom and I were wandering around Walmart yesterday after everything was said and done. Being a new mom myself, I think I finally understand how hard it is when something happens to your kid and you just want to take it all on yourself, away from them. She looked at me out of the blue and said you know kid it's a good year to get married in. I said yeah? why's that? she said because 8 was the number of new beginnings and that's what 2008 was looking like for me. Funny how something so little can make you feel good all over. She made a not great day really good. But mom's are meant to do that... even without looking.

"Everywhere, we learn only from those whom we love."

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

2008-01-09T04:13:00.000-09:00

Well, I've done the unthinkable and have survived the first week back to class. At about 2:30 yesterday afternoon I wasn't sure I would, but apparently I've pulled through. Thankfully.

We seem to be landing into some sort of bizarre routine. Ava is turning into a very resilient kid, probably because there are no other options at this time, but oh well, she seems to be surviving and growing so that's all that's really important. She's passed out on my bed right now (wearing a Nike sleeper!) wtih one hand over an eye, and the other twisted in a blanket and pulled over her ear. Apparently breakfast and a big poop were all she could deal with before having a snooze. I have these moments of extreme terror where I'm going to fuck her up beyond belief, but by the grace of Someone besides me, she always wakes up with a smile. She's learning to laugh and giggle, loving the sound of her voice. It's hard to believe the changes that come in 4 short months. Out of my Box of Life, she has definately been a Blessing.

Peter has once again returned to the west and is settling back into work and paychecks. It's hard, but necessary for the time being. I just got an email from a friend of mine of Vancouver Island. She said that she remembered families living, working, and going to school at UBC and that she always wondered how they managed to stay sane. Or atleast look the part. I told her that it probably was more like barely holding everything together but secured in the knowledge and resolution of it (being school) was one of this things that just needed to be done because it wasn't just for them, there was a family that was involved. And that puts a whole lot of things inter perspective.

It's funny about perspective and how it changes things. This was the first semester of my entire university career where I didn't just drop a course because it was hard or there was a lot of work involved. I looked at the facts this time. If I needed it then I did it and that was pretty much it. It's not about me anymore and I think that fact has finally sunk in. My family needs me to do this. I was thinking about Marge Simpson in the face of my life sinking in. I watched the Simpson Movie the other night and at one point she said "Quit talking and throw the goddamn bomb!". And that made a lot of sense. It was time for me to quit talking about it and just do it. Just throw the goddamn bomb. Now it's all about moving to get to that finish line.

So here I sit once again in my life, looking around and finally understanding that life is like this big beautiful present that is full of blessings and woes. And everyday I get to reach in and pull something out, unsure if it will be a blessing or if it will be a woe, but that atleast I get that opportunity everyday. Sometimes it's big, sometimes it's little, but it's always enough to make me excited about tomorrow and what I may pull out. The trick is to remember that there are more blessings than woes in life, even though I may pull out a woe everyday for a week. The trick is to remember that there are still blessings inside and tomorrow may be the day I finally latch on to one.

Ava's got the blankets pulled completely over her head and her are feet up in the air so I guess it's time for me to get up and get going. I go to the hospital tomorrow, so tomorrow I will see about another blessing or woe and deal with it as it comes. The beauty is that whatever happens won't last forever. And it's my job to remember that.

The trick is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same.

Carlos Castaneda

2008-01-05T16:51:00.000-09:00

You know, for someone who's lived alone for the majority of their adult life, I have to confess that I'm not entirely wild about it anymore. It's funny, you fight and chew and get mad at stupid things and can't wait to have quiet time that no one interupts because no one is around. But then all of a sudden that much anticipated quiet time isn't all it's cracked up to be and only gives you enough time to wonder why in the hell you said such stupid stuff to begin with. Kind of like trying to argue that the great pyramids are made out of popsicle sticks. Stupid.

Ava and I spent our first night alone together since the day she was born in the hospital. We both seemed to have a tough time settling down and all I can figure is that we missed her dad. A lot. I miss a strong arm over me when I drift off to sleep. I miss having to sleep alone because someone was snoring too loudly, not because they were far away. I kept the tv on alot today and talked about nothing important, answering myself when need be, encouraging the baby to take over.

Peter proposed to me Christmas Eve. He said that he knew he didn't tell me that he loved me enough, but he did. And then he said that he would be so proud if I would be his wife. And when his eyes welled up and his hand shook as he presented me with the most beautiful diamond, there was a moment of shear terror in his eyes that I could possibly say no. And of course I said yes because I had a long time ago, before he even knew he would marry me. And I stood up and we just held each other for a long time, really tight, not wanting to let go. And all of a sudden even the stupid little things made perfect sense and I looked at a man whom I chose to look at for the rest of our lives. And it's nice to know that we're getting married for the marriage, not for the wedding. We'll still bicker and chew and say dumb shit, but that happens. We make our peace and move along. It's quite something to wrap your head around. I'm not even sure that I'm all the way there yet, other than I know that it's where I want to be.

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning.

Ivy Baker Priest

2008-01-04T04:28:00.000-09:00

I am so tired I hurt.

Christmas and New Year's is over. The first came in with a bang and an avalanche of beautifully wrapped and entirely unnecessary gifts; the latter came with sleep induced well before midnight. I'm glad to be soon back into a routine, although I am not glad to be back into another gruling semester. But I suppose it's like so many things, it just needs to be done.

Peter flew out this morning, heading back out west to refresh our bank accounts, but not excited to leave. There just seems to be so much in life, so much it gets all overwhelming just by the little details. I suspect it is an unconscious relief when the "big deals" arrive because your focus goes to just one thing. We were on the road this morning by 4 to make a 5:50am flight, so we took the route along the river. We've gotten 3 large snowfalls this past week, so snowbanks are averaging five feet high. It was -32 C this morning ("-" = minus, below zero, aka: fucking cold) and the trees were heavy with snow, almost creating a tunnel like effect. The stars were all out and the cold made them sparkle loudly where you could see each one perfectly. So we got him to the airport and put him on the plane. But this time it wasn't so hard. In 7 1/2 weeks, Ava and I will fly out for two weeks, and depending on a possible move, we may be doing a little house hunting. And I know that it may sound stupid, but I feel like an adult. Perhaps more shockingly, I'm happy to be an adult, making adult decisions. My mom gave me a plaque for my wall. It said "don't be so busy making a living that you forget to make a life". And I think that's my adult life is turning into.... a life. And that life is good.

The other day someone asked me if Ava had been big when she was born. I said she weighed 7lbs 4oz. But then I stopped and said that really, when you were squeezing someone out of your vagina after numerous hours of horrendous cramps, anything over a pound is a big baby. They agreed.

Ava will be 4 months old on the 10th and I go into the hospital for my biopsy. Somewhere we're both looking for a good day. This is her just shy of 3 months. I have to be honest - I make cute kids.

"Don't be so busy making a living that you forget to make a life"

amen

2007-12-14T15:26:00.000-09:00

It's hard to believe that it's been nearly a month since my last post. Time has gone into overdrive, leaving me in its wake without a lifejacket. My head's still above water, or atleast it is for now, but I find myself getting very tired of tredding.

School is finished except for exams, which I begin tomorrow morning at 9am. It's been snowing all day and the university is about an hour away, so I'm hoping that the roads will be cleared by morning. I emailed my prof to let him know what was happening and there would be logistical reasoning behind my possible lateness to my exam. But I'll leave extra early and take my time. It's just one of those things that needs to be done.

I've been working away for a couple of hours now in silence (except for the radio), and was startled when the phone rang. Peter's up helping his dad and my mom and dad have Ava. It was Ava calling to wish me good night and I was all of a sudden welled up and tight chested. She jibbered for a minute and mom said her eyes went big when I talked back. All of a sudden it brought back that I might be alone in the house for a time, that I wasn't alone in life. And that was a good feeling.

Peter and I have had a tough month. It's hard to make space for someone when you're not used to making space, giving when you really don't want to give in, and biting your tongue when it could so easily flap in the wind. I thought about marriage and motherhood and singleness and dating and all that stuff that runs through your mind when you have a bad day with someone you love. The proverbial otherside of the coin. And I talked to God, which is a bit of an anomaly these days. But I did.

And while I don't think I came to any great enlightenments, I did come to some understanding. It's hard to suck it up when you suddenly understand (when you get it REAL LOUD) that you're just not perfect and that you don't always do things the right way, and that when someone points it out they're not necessarily a complete asshole, so much as they are, well, right. It's hard to accept something as truth when it looks at you less than favourably. So this was what I dealt with. And my first reaction, the heart of my gut and the thing most familar, was to run. To loft a hearty fuck you and trek into the night and do it myself.

But I didn't. And that's what I talked to God about. Because I didn't understand (and if I'm honest, I still don't) why I was programmed the way I was. Why did I insist on turning over each stone in hopes of finding something new, something different, when in reality, it was still just a stone with muck underneath? Why did I keep searching for something else when everything that I had searched so hard for in the past was standing right in front of me? And why, just because it wasn't perfect all the time, did I expect it to end? Why do you keep pulling me back when I curse you and pull away?

We have a lot of snow. More snow than probably the last 4 years combined and it is a winter wonderland. The world looks so beautiful all covered in white, hiding all the tell-tale inadequacies, all the garbage. It's still there, but for now there's a bit of a reprieve. Maybe I'm close to understanding something big. Maybe I'm just covering up my flaws for a season.

I will always wrestle with the heart of myself. The push and pull that make me up, the black and white and odd shades of grey that can't decide what side they're on. But I suppose that's ok, so long as I remember to look at the big picture, outside of myself. To remember that it's more about understanding that it is about deserving.

The hospital sent a letter to inform me that I needed to be there January 10th at 10:30 in the morning. Apparently I was bumped up on the list since when I called they informed me they were 4 months behind. I'm not sure if I should be thankful or frightened for my hurried route so I guess I'll just go and take it has it gets handed to me. Peter will have gone back to work and I will have started a new semester at school, but Ava will be kept by her gram and my mom will go and take care of me and listen to what I often tune out. Sometimes there's just too many details for a girl who loves point form. But it's just over a week till Christmas and I will enjoy it. I will laugh and drink and enjoy my family and friends. I will kiss my husband to be and tell him I love him, because I do. And let him know that I am thankful for him, because I am. And that I will not runaway, because I won't. And when the lights dim and the music fades I will still be in my own personal conundrum about me, but not about him, because he is, after all, what I searched so hard for for so long.

Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle.

Amy Bloom

2007-11-21T13:41:00.000-09:00

I am inspired to write something here. Tomorrow I have a unit plan due but the four glasses of wine I drank over dinner are making it difficult to care. I feel like Garfield. If I were anymore relaxed I'd slip into a coma. It must be love because I would have killed the fucker by now.

2007-11-13T16:38:00.000-09:00

The house is quiet except for a few low lights, the hum of an unwatched tv, and some music playing off my desktop. I'm listening to Train right now, for no particular reason other than it's on "the list". "I'm about to come alive" is playing and it takes me back to a rough night about 4 years ago, to a relationship where all we did was fight and say mean things... and usually in the middle of the night. It was one of those times where I was always wrong and just couldn't get it right in his eyes, no matter how hard I tried. He would get angry and his eyes would flash and I would shut down, unable to speak. So I would go to my respected corner and put it all down on paper because on paper I could sort out my thoughts and words. I could make the jumble make sense. And I remember sitting at my desk one night... or morning.... somewhere around 4am, and I was desperate to let him know that I could change and that I could get it right, that I would. I remember listening to this and thinking yes! I could come alive. I can do it! And then it struck me that I was just fading away and no longer living and a lot changed in those few seconds. It's not easy to pick yourself up when you get beaten down. But I was right, I did change. I did come alive. Just not how I first thought. Time is a beautiful thing... it dulls the details of big mistakes but makes their lessons crystal clear.

My baby girl is stoned on infant tylenol tonight. She had her first batch of needles and I can honestly say that I think it was harder on me than it was her. Not that she wasn't pissed off and appealing to me with big blue eyes filled with tears. But I had to watch... watch her cry.... watch her want my arms.... watch her want me to make it stop. But like all things, it too came to an end and now she's sleeping and the world has returned to its proper axis.

It snowed last night and this morning I had an overwhelming urge to haul out my christmas boxes. But at Peter's look of disdain, I refrained. My time will arrive. But speaking of my Peter, I sent him out the door with a very astute fuck you and a refusal to look at him. He said something he shouldn't have, without thinking, and I can't say that I blame him for that, but it still pissed me off, so I guess I'm still blaming him. He made reference to my bum, which has yet to fully return to its pre-pregnancy shape. I am reminded of my uncle Andy and his infinate wisdom this summer, remarking to me during my 8th month of pregnancy on a hot and humid day: "You know, that baby's going to hurt a lot more coming out than it did going in". I think I told him to fuck off too. Anyhoo, the moral of the story is that the whole thing's pretty stupid and I was glad that I told him to drive safe and have a good evening while he was with his friends. And I meant it. But I'm still sleeping in the spare room tonight... there's just not enough room in our bed for the three of us.... Peter, me.... and my ass. F#!$er.

When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before.

Mae West

2007-11-11T14:07:00.001-09:00

It feels far later than the clock is telling. Sunday evening, Remembrance Day, and with the weather cooling it seems only natural to curl up inside with deep thoughts. A quiet day. Peter has something on his mind, I suspect it's about work and what to do and the time that's going too quickly. I think he's having a hard time with the two sides at war in him.... wanting to stay, wanting to work, where to be and what to do. But I guess these are the headaches that come with being a grown-up and this time I can’t help.

Already this week to come will be the middle of November. We're going south on the 22nd for a little cross-border shopping. We're going with another couple and leaving the babies at home. It will be the second time Ava's gone for the weekend, but the first time I've not been able to "pop in" and say hello, getting my snuggles.What's even more startling and indicative of time is the fact that my brand new baby girl was 2 months old yesterday, 9 weeks tomorrow. And it just seems like every demand on me is so inconsequential compared to just sitting and staring at her, watching her grown and smile and chat. But then there's that little something that says just get it done Andrea... she needs you to finish... she knows you're there...knows you love her. So I keep plugging away and getting it finished.

On other fronts, I'm still waiting to hear from the hospital and when my biopsy will be. I can only hope it's neither too near exams or christmas. But I suppose that's just me being selfish again. We went to the doctor again to get the big words broken down, see if we can find some understanding in all the muck and mire. And we found out that it's not a light switch that gets turned on for cancer and off for feelin' fine. It's more like a dimmer switch he said... like when it's only slightly turned on it's so much easier to turn off, just a little flick, a proverbial bump on the road. But this time I'm getting near a full rotation and that means there are less shadows to hide in and the further it's on, the harder it is to return. So he said that I need to be prepared to have some conversations, make some decision, or atleast be halfway ready to think about things. Things like possible treatment options or maybe have babies sooner than later. My fundamental baptist upbringing threatens to want to believe God is punishing me for a list that is too lengthy to remember all the inappropriate details of. But then I have to remember that the things I am to think about are the very things that offer hope and bring smiles. Peter doesn't like to talk about it because he doesn't know what to do with it so he slams cupboard doors and refuses to sometimes look me in the eye when I bring it up. So I take a deep breath and tell him it will be ok, that we'll be ok, and he's still going to be stuck marrying me and he had better like it cause it was too late to turn back. And I smile and he wraps his arms around me and we both know that for now we will be. We'll be ok. And he smiles and asks me if he's really stuck with me and wonders aloud what he ever did to deserve this. And then he kisses me and lets me know that his surrendering question is the most wonderful answer and gift he had never asked for but had always hoped for. So I will tell you, as I tell Peter and me... because there are moments where I have to encourage my own silly self, that we'll be ok. That we won't worry or lose sleep until there's a reason to worry or lose sleep and we'll keep putting one foot in front of the other and enjoy the dance. And when in doubt, go to eBay because eBay makes me happy. In fact I just bought 600 yards of white tulling for fifty bucks, shipping included. It really is about the little things you know.

Ava is eating cereal. As I am certain that there are sharp inhalations over the consequence of semi solid slurry and such a young age and that's fine. But she's eating and pooping and sleeping through the night. She gets so excited when you hold up her bowl and spoon that she nearly dances herself out of her chair, singing and squealing and doing her million dollar lotto happy dance. And she does my heart so good because she loves to sit and talk. Just last night she and her great grampie, my grampie, had the most wonderful chat at the kitchen table, where she sat in his 89 year old hands that have held so many babies and healed so many hurts and told him all her secrets in quiet whispers. And as he always does, he listened intently and hid them away for safe keeping. And it's humbling in all the good ways to be humbled to know that so many times I thought I had been lost to the point of no finding me again. But here I am, found yet again.

To listen is to continually give up all expectation and to give our attention, completely and freshly, to what is before us, not really knowing what we will hear or what that will mean. In the practice of our days, to listen is to lean in, softly, with a willingness to be changed by what we hear.

Mark Nepo

2007-11-01T17:07:00.000-08:00

November 1st and my week is over, atleast the hard part. It had the look of fall this morning when I checked out the window, but the warm air surprised me. Unseasonably warm, they'd say. Class has finished for another few days, creating a sense of relief on one hand and a feeling of anxiousness on the other, knowing it will start all over again. It's been a long one, this week. Not that the days haven't passed quickly, they did. More like they didn't pass smoothly, painlessly.

Ava will be 8 weeks old on Monday and after 7 days of meds that didn't work, and two days of 14 days worth of something else, she finally seems to be coming around. It does my heart good to see her as a happy kid. She's smiling and cooing and fulfilling our lives without even knowing. Quiet blessings. What a reprieve. School is moving, slowly but with one foot in front of the other. I said aloud that I was shooting for B's. With B's I would be happy. I came home after saying that, looked myself in the eye and said, so what's different about that? A's are wonderful, but in the end they really don't make the world go round. So B's it is.

I got a call from my doctor on Tuesday morning saying that they needed to see me as soon as possible. I had a pap done at my six week check up and apparently something appeared, so away I went yesterday afternoon. I see a nurse practitioner who worked in all the northern remote areas you could find, delivery babies, doling out help, giving hugs, offering guidance. She learned her midwifery from an old Jamaican lady and everytime she touched my belly she closed her eyes and talked softly. When I walked into her office she looked sad. She smiled and while it was genuine, it had that touch of something hurt and pained. Her best friend had passed away at noon after a 9 week battle of cancer. She came home from the Northwest Territories to be with her husband, who was dying. Ironic in the ways that hurt your heart. She told me she had cancelled all her appointments except for mine, that she had really wanted to talk to me and tell me herself since she had been the one to do the pap. I wasn't surprised when she said that my bad cells were back and that they were worse than before. She showed me where everything was labelled "moderate to severe" and that they were concerened with the speed that they came in at after having the baby. How my pap at 28 weeks came back clear and now they seemed to be in more places than really necessary. So I'm off to the hospital soon. They pushed me along on the quickest route that they could find but one that still leaves me waiting. They're going to burn off the top layer to see if something's underneath. I guess it's a bit like trying to find the heart of a person... you have to see what lies beneath.

So here I am. Mom asked me how I was and I told her tired. I didn't even want to cry, I just wanted to move on. Peter wants to get angry and blame someone. I told him he'd have to take it up with God, and if history is any consideration, he'd probably lose. I have another appointment tomorrow to get things broken down into more understandable pieces. So we'll do what needs done, take care of what needs taken care of. Mom and dad are keeping the baby tomorrow night overnight, Peter's taking me out for dinner, and I have an hour long massage scheduled. And then I get to rest, to sleep in and sleep tight without bottles or monitors or breaks between dreams. And while I love my daughter with everything I am and a little bit more, I'm really looking forward to her hanging out with her grandparents. I am in need of a bit of rest.

This is on my wall, beside our bed. I paid an outrageous amount for it about a year ago in a little shop with dim lighting that smelled like a mixture of pot and lavendar. It was probably the best waste of money that I've ever spent because if it were in a book the spine would be broken to that page. Somewhere in it is that slow burn of grace.

Go for long walks,

indulge in hot baths,

question your assumptions,

be kind to yourself,

live for the moment,

loosen up,

scream,

curse the world,

count your blessings,

just let go,

just be.

Carol Shields

2007-10-25T17:08:00.000-08:00

I don't know where time has gotten too. A long time ago I posted about a friend of mine named Tim, and how whenever I wrote his name it naturally came out as Time. Tim is in Ontario. Time has disappeared. They weren't lying when they said it would happen.

It's hard to know where to begin because so many monumental things have happened. Life has happened at warp speed and sometimes it's hard to comprehend how much living has happened in such a short span. Ava is six weeks old and I still want to keep rolling it around my tongue to say my daughter. Oh, she's my daughter. Yes, that's my daughter. What is the trouble, my daughter? I'm not sure if it makes sense to say that it feels so foreign yet so the way it is. But I guess for lack of better articulation, that's exactly what it is. She's holding her head up now, smiling in beautiful, non-gassy ways, and talking back. I marvel at just how beautiful she is and beam like an idiot when strangers say the same. She's sleeping through the night, or nearly, and I can't really ask for more than that. She'll yell around 2am but it's usually just to be flipped on to her belly. Yes, I know, they're not supposed to sleep that way. I know that she's not supposed to have blankets on either. There are a lot of things I know, but it doesn't change the fact that that's how she likes to sleep.

I just reread that, and it startled me that I wrote "there are a lot of things I know". Actually, I think that it startled me that I believe it to be true. Sometimes I get all hung up on everything that I don't know, or am learning, or taking in, or being completely bowled over by... and that's all true too, but there are things that I know. And apparently there are a lot of them. Don't get me wrong, I'm still dumbing my way through this whole thing... but I'm learning. And how can that not just make you smile?

On other fronts, I'm getting married. July 12 to be exact and am very much looking forward to the festivities. I am both excited and satisfied by the prospects of being married, and while I can honestly say that I never thought it would actually happen, I find it hard to think of a greater pleasure. I told Peter it was the only time I was going to do this, so I was going to enjoy it. Then I told him it was the last time he was going to do it, so he had best enjoy it too. There is no way possible that I could have planned this life. Thank God for that.

Tomorrow I go teaching. Apparently I will be substituting for awhile, a day here and there. Tomorrow is grade 3 and Devon informed me at the hardware store this afternoon that he knew I was going to be his teacher and that if I needed any help finding anything in the classroom, he had my back. He also let me know that he was all set for his spelling test that was going to happen first thing. These are the moments where I wish that kids ruled the world. Because if you couldn't find something, they'd help you out.

Speaking of the hardware store, I had to go pick up some spray nine and I ran into Joanne. Joanne is a beautiful woman who has worked at the hardware since its inception and has a daughter I went to school with. A few weeks ago her husband past away from lung disease and now she finds herself living alone. She's been working more because she has more time on her hands. Atleast she's living.. moving, breathing, taking each day at a time and saying it's ok... I'm doing ok. So tonight I introduced her to my kid. And as she held onto her little hand I saw a deep something inside of her.... something a bit cracked, but not broken. Something that was still very strong... but bruised and in need of healing. So I asked her if she wanted to hold her and her eyes sparkled, and all I could think about was how important these silly little things are. How holding a baby can fix something that doctors can't see and adults can't seem to touch. And how eight year olds will help you find whatever you need and work hard on their spelling words because they know it makes you happy. These are the moments that you can't hurry through or past or over. These are the times that keep your feet grounded yet give you wings.

Ava teaches me lessons every day. Just this afternoon she taught me that it doesn't hurt to let someone you just met give you a hug because it's probably more for them than it is you, and somehow they just need a little unspoken kindness. And tonight she showed me once again how a full belly and a good poop bring restful dreams.

Just for today, be happy.

2007-10-07T04:48:00.000-08:00

It's our first Thanksgiving together and I don't think I have ever been as thankful as I am right now... this moment... here.

The sun is shining, the trees are in brilliant colour, and this life has opened up to me in such a way that I never once thought possible. Never did I think that blessings could turn bright red while they shit their pants, and all the while make me so happy.

2007-10-01T06:27:00.000-08:00

Everything is so new. And I am so exhausted I hurt. Everytime I wake up I marvel at what can be accomplished on so little sleep. Don't get me wrong, it sucks, but it's do-able. Atleast so far. I often feel like someone going into confessional: "Forgive me Father for praying every waking moment that I don't screw this up. It's been 12 hours since my last crying session." But like I said, we're managing.

I decided along about Wednesday that if Peter wasn't home, I would have to move back in with mom and dad. And just to say that outloud, willingly, is enough to begin fathoming my hormonal position. A very real conversation inside my frontal lobe, quite literally, goes like this - "Holy fuck what did I do? Dear God I didn't mean that, don't take her!" Not once did anyone say anything about motherhood being a sane position to move into. It's like being in new love, that fuzzy stage where everything the other person does affects your ability to reason. But I guess this is new love, so somehow it all makes sense. Right now she has hiccups and is farting up a storm, all the while looking at me as if to say, what the hell is happening to me mom??

We started nursing again this morning and I forgot how enjoyable it was. She seemed to latch back on with no trouble, which isn't bad considering it's been nearly 3 weeks since the last time we tried. I had to quit when she was 2 days old due to a tissue infection in my hip (that I got from a shot of demerol in the hospital, in labour, that I never really wanted, and all it did was make me barf, and upset her belly). They told me that is would land me back in the hospital if it wasn't taken care of immediately. And so began my journey into the Land of Unabashed Tears amidst the Hills of Inadequacy. But so far we've survived. We've managed to continue making our proverbial fire each night for warmth with enough embers surviving till morning to help make the next day's fire a little easier to light. We'll survive. And what a relief to be able to say that outloud with conviction and quiet knowing.

On the upshot, I'm really (read: REALLY) looking forward to having sex again. I think deep down mom was relieved to know that Peter and I were sleeping in separate rooms about 75% of the time, happy about baby, still not willing to come to terms with premarital sex, but I am so ready to climb back on that horse. (Sorry, I just laughed. Peter would be tickled pink to know that I just referred to him as a horse, even if I never really meant it in that sense.) Anyhoo, it just makes me happy that I want to have sex again soon. We were fooling around the other night and when everything was said and done, I rolled over and found a wet spot in a peculiar place. And whether you want to admit it or not, YOU KNOW ABOUT WET SPOTS IN THE BED AFTER FOOLING AROUND OR DOING THE DEED. Lie if you must, but know that I know you know. Anyways, we laughed because this particular damp area was from my boob. Another new novelty.

So going from the bedroom to the driveway (how's that for a seguay???) we also got a new vehicle, a Honda Element. And while I will be the first to admit that it's ugly as sin, I am so friggin' in love with this thing, it's retarded. We have ROOM. SPACE. Adequate area for copious amounts of baby paraphanalia. It's navy. It makes me feel like a mom. It freaks me out because there's still a minute notion in the back of my brain that keeps the idea of the possibility of her real parents still coming to get her.

We're listening to the Tragically Hip's Roadapples CD. One of my personal favourites. Yesterday we listened to Michael Buble and Ella Fitzgerald. Her dad exposes her to Sirious's Hair Nation (makes me feel our 10 year age gap, but really, what can you do?). We want to her to have it all, or atleast not be scared to go after it, to work hard and expect good things. We want her to know that you get back what you put into it. Be honest, realistic, and understand that it's ok to pull back when it's not working and reasses the situation. Don't lose yourself to other people's fears, and understand that there will come a time when you just say fuck it and do it anyway. And that her mother and father know first time that some things are well worth the wait. Even when they make you cry and cause great pains in you ass. And it's ok to occassionally hide your eyes.

"I figure if the kids are alive at the end of the day, I've done my job."

Roseanne

Our New Addition

2007-09-24T15:40:00.000-08:00

I have recently learned some valuable lessons.

I've learned that if you ever want to doubt all the abilities you once thought you had, have a child.

I've learned that if you want to second guess anything you were ever certain about, have a child.

I've learned that if you want to teeter on the edge of exhaustion from lack of sleep, have a child.

but most importantly...

I've learned that if you ever want your heart to swell to the point of bursting with love for a tiny little creature that needs you for everything, have a child.

My life is so full I am speechless. I am moved to tears with the blessings I hold. I am overwhelmed by just how good it all is. I am more satisfied than I thought possible. And so much of what I held so dear for so long seems so .... wasteful.... so without thought or reason or priority. So much of what I hold now is about life, about breathing in and out and finding nourishment, about saying prayers and really believe they will be answered because if they're not the consequences will cause me to die. And it's all because now my heart is on the outside and she had blue eyes and loves to suck her fingers. And that's what's really important now. And I fell in love all over again with her dad because he is as much of her as I am, and when we look at her it's so clear as to why we work so well as a team.

Her name is Ava Amelia Ione and she was born 11 days early on September 10 at 6:37am. We had hard and heavy labour and I would do it for her a thousand times over. She weighed 7 lbs 4 oz and as far as I'm concerned, she is the most perfect creature I could ever have fathomed to have. I am exhausted, over the moon, near tears at any given moment, and more in love than I have ever dreamt possible.

Life is good.

If I know what love is, it is because of you.

Herman Hesse

2007-09-02T04:59:00.000-08:00

It's hard to believe that it's September 2nd. Peter is home. I'm due any day. The sun is shining. And it's perfect weather for a cornboil. It's kind of insane considering I'm sure that I just did a pregnancy test last week and it turned out positive. Where in the world did time get to???

I am pleased to note that I have absolutley NOTHING to report. It was probably one of the greatest summer's on record (I did little); the most restful time I've every had in my life (see first set of parentheses); and to top it all off I learned how to play and really enjoy a mean game of scrabble. Where has my life turned to from the days of drinking excessively and interesting midnight meetings??

Holy shit I've grown up. Well.... maybe I'd better not go that far.

I just wanted to let you know that I hadn't died. I'm good, Peter's good, the baby's good. She's growing like a weed and I am ready for her to be on the outside. Time for stage two.

I hope you are all well.

:)

2007-06-29T18:24:00.000-08:00

Last week I showed my popped-out belly button to Peter. He informed me that it was the grossest thing he had ever seen. I told him to wait until he saw a head coming out of my vagina.

2007-06-29T17:20:00.000-08:00

It was a good day to drive with the window down. The sun shone bright, the humidity disappeared, and Frank Sinatra told me that he had me under his skin. I couldn't help but sing along. It was a day that I hadn't had in quite some time and I enjoyed it immensely. There's still a big part of me that can't quite wrap my head around the fact that I am "home", back to where I grew up. But like each time I arrive, I'm still shocked at how little changes, other than people just getting older. Funny how time does that. Alisa and I walked tonight and fell back into our old routine of simplicity. Her sister-in-law is over for the weekend, and she too had few demands tonight. Kids in bed... moms playing cards... stars coming with twilight. And a nice walk in the evening air.

It's been awhile since I've written, and now that I think about it, I'm not sure why. I guess I was just taking life easy and not lamenting over what I had or what I didn't. I guess things just kind of had a flow with an ebb thrown in here and there. Somethings slowed down, others sped up, and I guess everything just happened as it needed. It's been nice. Satisfying. Maybe that's what it is, the whole big picture of things... being satisfied. Not fighting the things that are put before me, but rather just saying, ok, I can work with this. Don't get me wrong, I still have my oh shit moments, but even they aren't big deals in the big picture. I'm still learning lessons... but they just don't seem so hard anymore or demand so much. Atleast not for now.

The little life inside of me is 28 weeks today. We've officially entered our seventh month together and everyday I am overwhelmed with just how a blessing grows. She's already a lot like me... dancing around every nook and crannie in my belly, testing all the ways that she is most comfortable... trying them out but not making any serious decisions until the time comes. Probably at the last minute. Two weeks ago she was already over 2 lbs. Peter and I laugh, saying she's part monster, but there is such pride and priveledge in knowing that she's our monster. What a treat. In the morning she stretches and bumps, almost to say, mom, I need out of here... there are things we need to do. I hope she laughs out loud. A lot. I hope she's kind to strangers. I hope she remembers how important it is to carry herself before she carries others. I hope she loves life with gusto and never lets my fears get in her way.

I read a quote from Wayne Dyer today at some point. I think it was on the bottom of an email, or Facebook, or something, but I thought about it all day. And for the first time in a very long time, I'm there. I get it. I understand it. I'm doing it. I'm enjoying each step because time and so many things dance away too quickly. It may not be exactly what it said, but it's pretty darn close.

You don't dance to get to a certain place on the floor. You dance to enjoy each step for as long as it lasts.

Wayne Dyer

Filling the Cup

2007-05-03T05:12:00.000-08:00

I seem to be entering my days by learning something new, but exiting by forgetting something old. It's like trying to fill a cup that's full of something old, with something fresh. A lot of mixing and always something spilling out and getting lost. But there's so much to take in that I worry I'm not getting it all... or at the very least the very staples I need. And then there's the flip of it all that says don't forget this Andrea, this is important. And a balance can't be struck.

It's a mixture of shock and awe when I look at the calendar and realize that already it is Thursday and my week seems only to beginning. I've been tired and am beginning to really feel the weight of everything that needs to be accomplished in such a short time. It's as if I've been spending my years in infinite time and it has suddenly changed to finite. Advice from all sides, some saying all is fine, others saying time is nigh and more should be done. And here I am, stuck in the middle, trying to fill this fucking cup that's already full with a thick and viscous liquid, and trying my damndest to replace it with something light and airy. But light and airy it is not, so I will continue pouring and mixing.

Peter and I had an arguement last night and it was our second one this week. And no, we're not on the rocks, not falling apart, but trying to grasp this big change that is growing in me and amidst us. I would be lying to say there is no chaos and that we're surviving off a drug that says it will be ok. But some days that drug just feels like a placebo and I need something a little more concrete. Sometimes I just need an arm, an I love you we'll be ok, instead of a silence that has no answers. Sometimes I think his ex wife and an old girlfriend who wanted marriage and babies took everything out of him.... the things that I think that I need right now. Sometimes I think that, not all the time, but sometimes, usually in silence.

Last night I watched a show called Five things to be Done Before You Die. Last night's discussion was on love and how love is not an emotion, it's a choice. That we have to come to a point in ourselves where we say aloud, I am loving myself because I am worthy and I can. I am loving you for the same reasons. And we make up our minds. Flick the switch. Find the answer. Move on from there. And last night I laid awake for more than a few hours and thought about that. I thought about that in all aspects of who I was, am, and do. That even when I teach I am choosing to love my students and see the potential... and that's the key... the potential. Potent. Potential. Strong.

So on these rainy days that seem so drab and difficult, I am choosing to see potential. The potential of a man who I have chosen to be my partner and has chosen me in return. I'm not expecting to find a magic eraser to make it disappear or to remove the things I don't like to see or feel. Light gives heat and heat grants growth... and sometimes things grow where you least expect.

My life is simple. More simple than I would have ever imagined. I have routines and bills to pay. My windows are often dusty and my floor could always been cleaner. But somewhere, where I least expected it, it all became pretty extraordinary. And the view takes my breath away... even when it's through that same dirty window. I just need to step outside. Till the last drop of water flows under the bridge.

We're officially 21 weeks and the baby is moving every day. I am in awe.

2007-04-19T07:30:00.000-08:00

It's a rainy, overcast, spring-chilly kind of day. And I love it. It's a day that says go ahead and stay inside... watch tv... try not to budge from the couch. It's a great day to have off. A real day off.

I am in both shock and awe that next week is the final episode for April 2007. Just the other day I was wondering where February and March got to. Now it looks like I'll need to add April to the list.

This week has been a big week and I can't say that I'm upset to see it leave. Peter and I had a few... issues, I suppose you could call them, about where to be and what to do. He's frustrated that I'm not done school yet and didn't really enjoy being told that he knew I was in school for awhile when we decided to get together. But like he said, he just wasn't expecting to throw let's be a dad into the mix quite so soon. Which is understandable... to the point where he understands I wasn't really looking for the mom role right off the bat either. So we had a quiet two days, each in our own worlds, trying to sort out and decide who should give where and if one gives does that mean to concede, and if so, who's really giving and who's really conceding? The big ole proverbial rhetoric of being a couple. The giver. The taker. But like everything else, we worked through. I know that I keep going over what a change it is to bring someone else into the decision pot, but it just really is. A great big change. But it's coming. We're changing.

Next Friday after our drs appt, we're heading to Edmonton to look at houses and check out some of the area. Peter has an opportunity for a good job down there, and the area that we're looking to move to is building 3 new schools starting this summer, meaning that there will be plenty of work for me. I would be ecstatic to move south, but mind you, I would be over the moon to move home. It's a tough call to make. And damnit we're going to have to make it.

I think I'll go gnaw on a fudgescicle.

2007-04-12T16:54:00.000-08:00

Two posts in one day. I forget what that feels like and that makes me sad. You have to understand just how big of a pain in the ass it is to dig out my laptop, set it on the kitchen table, unplug the phone, and wait for Telus to kick in. Ok, so I'm lazy too.

I suppose I'm just a bit meloncholy tonight. I was checking out pictures of a girl's bachlorette party... a girl who used to hold a very special place in my heart, but one I've lost touch with over the years of moves and transition. She looked wonderful in them - content and beautiful, just as she always had. And I couldn't help but think about how she was doing everything "right" and "in order"... that is, if there is a rightness or an order to anything in life. And while I am not unhappy with my status in life (because I have gotten exactly as I have chosen), I can't help but squash the desire to ask did I do it right? Did I catch the right train? Have I played it too safely? Or probably more appropriately, have I played it too rough.

And while I can go on and on and on, listening to myself drone on in my own ears, I can't ignore this small fire in me that has never gone out. It has kept me warm. It has helped me write many adventures. And really, it's become an intregal part of well, me.

The other day I watched my sister pick up pennies and dimes on a supermarket floor. And while 97% of me wanted to say I'll wait for you in the car, the other part of me (3%) admired her for listening to herself. I'm not saying I didn't think she was weird (because 97% of me sure did), but there was still this strange contentedness in finding her own proverbial way. But maybe that's the kicker for me, the key, the one piece that makes it make sense. I worry that I may lose my sense of adventure but then I realize that I'm just no longer travelling alone. And I really never expected that to happen. And just maybe that's what's the real deal. I am satisfied. And finally it's a statement.

"It is only in adventure that some people succeed in knowing themselves - in finding themselves."

Andre Gide, writer, humanist, and moralist

2007-04-12T07:02:00.000-08:00

Yesterday smelled like spring and it was the best, stinkiest smell that I thought I had forgotten about. It was all about mud and decay in preparation for new things to grow. I love it.

I think I may still be in shock that Easter is actually over and I still have no idea where time got to. Another two weeks and it's my big ultrasound and then we're off to Edmonton to look at houses. We're in a bit of a conundrum as to what to do. I have to return east to finish school (almost done!!) but it's the afterwards that we have to make a decision on. Where we're living right now is not even close to real life by the rest of the universe's standards. I'll be glad to move on from here. I can't hate it because it will make it unbearable. But dream of something else, I will for certain.

I finally got to see my sister for Easter. It was a long (looooooooooooong) drive, but well worth it. Peter and I both had a good visit and can definately agree that it is not somewhere we would want to live (sorry Ang!). But the visit was perfect and I can't wait to see her for the May long weekend. Which, unsurprisingly, will be here, oh, tomorrow.

Other than that, we're getting through each day and enjoying the weather. The sun starts coming up shortly before 6am and goes down shortly after 9pm. So many changes that spring brings. Baby is doing well and the doctor has bumped me ahead a week, informing me that a big baby will be coming. And all I can focus on is my poor vagina. Even though they say it will return, I question the validity. My poor poor vagina. Peter is worried too.

Anyhoo. I hope all is well. My birthday was last week and I have officially landed full force into my 30's by turning 31. Ang said over the weekend that I looked mature. My age. That I was incubating. I take her at face value and understand that she loves me. She just lacks that little social voice that says "maybe I should phrase this differently". Ang, I love you. You're weird, but it's you and I'll keep you. :)

Here's week 19!

2007-03-28T18:45:00.000-08:00

I'm still here. I know. It's been awhile. But I'm still here.

I would like to say that my time has been occupied by feats of greatness and pure marvel. But they haven't. In fact, I would dare say that they have been fairly mundane, but their mundane-ness has been passing quickly. Too quickly some days, because it seems like I have barely gotten out of bed, and then I am climbing right back in, exhausted from the speed of the afternoon.

On a positive note though, I have been learning great lessons. Lessons that are good for my heart, which seems to grow right along with my belly. Lessons that touch me in quiet ways that make so many things make sense and make my soaring world slow down. I am finding a different kind of contentment in myself and my growing family. And a new love for that word... family. My family. Not just a part of one, but one of the makers of it. A big wig. A mom... along with a day... and a kid. I still can't get over the kid part.

I work with a lot of people from around the world - many from war-torn parts that I will never understand, who have seen things in their young lives that make me wonder how in the world they come to work and smile the entire day while doing the most mundane thing. And as I was laying in bed thinking about a man who was so excited because his wife and two children just arrived to finally live with him and all I could think was that I was surrounded by Noah's. Noah did what was necessary and always believed that God would take care. He listened and obeyed and kept plugging away. And maybe he wasn't immediately gratified, he was always satisfied. And I look at the tough decisions that parents have to make for their kids so their kids can be the best, even when it doesn't seem like it. And I suddenly understood a lot of what I never did before.

I'm 17 1/2 wks along now and it's still hard to believe. Baby is taking up lots of room and my belly is growing everyday. I am in love.

The Difference Between Rocks and Stones

2007-02-20T18:42:00.000-09:00

Hi. Remember me? It's ok... I think I may have even forgotten over the past few weeks. And it's nearly March. Time marches on and dial-up is a cruel and unusual punishment.

Things here on the farm are good. Ok, I don't technically live on a farm, but I thought you should know that things are going well. We have our ultrasound a week from Thursday and my pants no longer fit. We went out for dinner last Friday night and I had to find some new duds before going anywhere. It's weird, exciting and downright surreal to see the changes happening to my body. Some things filling out, smoothing out, protrusions where there were no protrusions before. It's quite magical really, for lack of anything less gay sounding. Every night I go to bed, I talk to baby and find out how their day was. It usually closely resembles mine. At work there are about 6 pre-natal nursing students, so I have learned to find my baby lump in my belly and all seems to be going as planned. I haven't had any blood work or anything of the sort done yet, but apparently that will come next Thursday. Just the other night, as I was laying in bed, staring into nothing and smiling, while Peter snored contently in my ear with his arm thrown over me, I think I finally understood grace. Better yet, the gift of grace. Before it came with a pricetag - given in atonement, a right for a wrong. And this, this baby, this wonderful little lump that makes me pee 3 times in the night and gives me a 24 hr fat feeling, this is my gift. A wrapped up with a big bow and here you go and treat it well because it's just for you kind of gift. And it stops me entirely in my tracks. If my gift is a girl, her name will be Sophia, or Sophie for short. If my gift is a boy, his name will be Ryan. And either way there will be twinkling eyes and laughter that can't be held back. Because gifts bring squeels of joy. And their mom seems virtually incapable of stopping grinning like an idiot.

The height of a land is a geographical... I want to say anomaly, but that's not right.... a glitch... but that's not right either. It's a connector and a divider. It's a physical division in a geographical sense that separates *usually* two watersheds. It's an elevation where one river flows one way, and the next river flows the other. It separates, but at its peak is a point of reference that keeps you from getting lost. Sometimes it's a big peak, sometimes it's not, but regardless it's still a vantage point. Grampie and I talked about the height of land the day that I left home. He said that for years they were his markers, his maps, his spot where he could take a good look at where he just came from, and had the opportunity of a glimpse to see where he was headed. It gave a good perspective. And between each land change was everything that you needed to survive... sometimes in abundance, sometimes not, but for the most part it was there. And while I can't exactly tell you what keeps going through my head about this, I can tell you that I'm at a vantage point. And that there's still lots of work to be done ahead of me. And that I'm still a bit tired from the last run. But it's ok. The view is clear, my needs are provided, and change is on the horizon.

and I can hardly wait.

Let us not look back in anger or forward in fear, but around in awareness.

James Thurber

2007-02-05T15:38:00.001-09:00

First off, thank you so much to everyone that sent wonderful emails to me - it means the world! Peter and I are so excited and it's great to have everyone on board with us! His parents can hardly wait and last night mom and discussed cribs. I told her that we may buy out here and have stuff shipped home... her response was not to bother doing anything because that's what grandparents are for! We'll take that. I told Grampie about it last night and his response was "Jesus, whaddya do that for?!" But once he found out I was coming home to have the baby he was far more excited. I said Grampie, you've just had too many kids yourself! He said, yes, you're probably right.

Today was a rotten day for sickness. I nearly passed out in the shower, and since I've never passed out before, it's not something I really want to get on board with. What a rotten feeling. On the upshot however, Peter is over the moon that I have officially moved from a 36B to a 38C. And my pants are starting to snug up. ARE MY PANTS SUPPOSED TO BE SNUGGING UP ALREADY??????!!!! I am so unprepared for this. My neighbour did give me The Mother of all Pregnancy Books, so atleast I'm getting some reading done.

I'm sorry I've not been writing much, but my schedule's been hectic and any free moments I seem to be sleeping. last night I slept for 14 hours and am ready to go to bed anytime now. Ah well, maybe I'm just using it as an excuse. But I'm ok with that. :)

2007-02-05T15:38:00.000-09:00

January 31, 2007

2007-02-01T12:50:00.000-09:00

It was a big day. Actually, it was a big night. A very big night. We talked long into it. We held hands. We sat in the dark and listened to our own thoughts. Sometimes we shared those thoughts outloud. And suprisingly enough when I told him he didn't die of immediate heart failure. I'm worried that it may be coming later next week. But out of it all, we're both excited.

I shouldn't be saying this, but I can't help myself and I've already told mom and dad and everyone close that needs to be told.

We're pregnant. Around 8-9 wks along.

Holy shit, eh?

Yes. Holy Shit. When Peter left this morning he said Have a good day, Mom. He meant me. How cool is that??

2007-01-30T18:11:00.000-09:00

It takes me back to 1996. The rush of opening the inbox. The technical speed of a 28.8 modem. The wonders of ICQ and chatrooms. All back when seeing fwd meant more than just spam. Back in the days of dial-up.

Well, they're back again. And so am I.

And you thought you could get rid of me. Yeah. Right.

I'm tired tonight so I'll keep it short, but Peter and I have settled in nicely, I'm waitressing at Boston Pizza, and I hate Telus because 200 yards to my immedately right lies high speed and they won't run the wires in.

I promise I will post more soon. I've missed you.

Houseflies, Lady Bugs & 24 hours of Ex's

2007-01-04T13:35:00.000-09:00

It's unseasonably warm for January, but considering that the past four January's have been around this same temperature, maybe it's actually bang-on and typical. Maybe January is the new May. Regardless, the chipmunks are frolicking and the houseflies and lady bugs are in full bloom. I guess it's probably more of shame that I actually enjoy winter. Anyways.

I'm having a tough day and I'm sure there are multiple reasons involved. One week from tonight and I'll be settling into my new home and I am excited, anxious and scared. I expected the excited and really, even the anxious, but I didn't expect the scared. That one kind of snuck in when I wasn't looking. I had a massage today because I've been having back spasms in the wee hours of the morning and Alisa asked how I was doing while she drove her elbow into one of the knotty culprits under my shoulder blade. I always thought I was good at change, at driving until I can't see straight, at passing through little towns and talking to strangers. And I guess I was good at it, but now I'm, well, I'm scared. I'm frightened at everything the move will bring, everything it won't bring, and everything it will hint at. I want to lock the doors, close the blinds and turn off the lights. Atleast that's how I feel at night. I wasn't expecting a new adventure to become my personal Boogey Man. I'm not good at waking up in tears that have nothing to do with pain, but I seem to be practicing it with a frightful regularity. I'm probably just being stupid. When I talked to my sister yesterday she asked me how mom was dealing with everything, and hesitantly I said very well. Freakily so. I'm left waiting for the other shoe to drop or for her to tell me she has terminal cancer. Something isn't kosher.

So all in all, with a long face that I'm sure will brighten soon (because I'm fuckingly optimistic), I am still left entering the new year with fresh resolve and grown-up ambition. It's all about landing and standing and taking a good look around at what's actually there, and not listening to those silly things that go bump in the night. Tonight I talked to my little Hockey Player. I hadn't seen him since last spring and he looked good. He left me a voice mail on Christmas day on my cell. He said that he hoped I have a good christmas because I deserved it and that he was sorry he had screwed up between us. He said he wished only good things for me because no matter what I was still the girl of his dreams and that one day he hoped to find someone even half like me. He said that if I wanted him to that he would wait forever for me. So tonight I saw him and he gave me a big hug. He's also in Alberta and will be up and around the town that I'm in from time to time. I told him that Peter said he didn't mind me talking to him, and he smiled and sighed relief. He said good because he was going to tell him that he had the best girl around. I asked him how he was doing and he said ok and that he understood what I meant when I said that when you move away and come home everything changes. But it changes in you, not the world outside. He said he got that now and quit wondering what was wrong with him. We parted ways with a final hug and I told him to look me up and that I was always a good ear to sound off in. And that was that. Yesterday Peter's ex-girlfriend, the one just before me, came to the door to see if he was still home. I met her when they were dating and liked her immediately. She's funny, smart, outgoing and beautiful. I gave her a hug when she came in and wished her a happy New Year. She asked how things were going and told me she liked the colour of the kitchen. We chatted about this and that and nothing important. She mentioned she was seeing a guy but for the moment things were tricky. She said she just can't get it right with men. It was then that I looked her in the eye and told her very honestly that nothing happened between Peter and I while they were dating. And I think she wanted to cry. I told her that for whatever it's worth, sometime's it's just nice to hear to settle the demons of wondering. She said that she appreciated it and that it had been hard when they first broke up. She said that her friends asked her if she hated me and she said no, it fucking sucks because she's really cool and I had to laugh at that. So I gave her Peter's email address and told her that while I was the only one who checked it I will always pass messages along. And I could be dillusional but I think she left lighter than when she came in 20 minutes earlier. And that was that.

A letter arrived from a good friend of mine out west. She understands the business of life and holds moments in high regard so I've read it twice already. She informed me that I would need to fire off an email if I wanted ALL the details of the gossip she hinted. So I'll do that. I also talked to a girlfriend that I hadn't talked to since the summer. She's got a new baby and she calls when she has a moment. We turned everything over and then held it up to the light to see if we could spot the truth and we came up with the fact that God is highly unconventional with a weird sense of humour. I've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon. Apparently he called mom and dad to let me know my test results were in and would like to see me sooner than later. I'm sure everything will be fine and whether it is or not, I've promised myself to take more vitamins.

Someone asked me this past weekend if Rosie was my aunt, and she is. And they said you know, she never complains and works hard and I couldn't stop thinking about that. I thought about the person that said it and the look of admiration that came over them when they mentioned it. And all I could think was what a good quality. Maybe that's my lesson. After all, I am a fucking optimist. ;)

I believe you are your work. Don't trade the stuff of your life, time, for nothing more than dollars. That's a rotten bargain.

Rita Mae Brown

2007-01-01T05:37:00.000-09:00

Christmas has come and gone and now it's already a year later. I've not quite wrapped my head around the fact that it is a new year. 2007. It startles me to think about where the time has gotten to when it was littered with days that I thought would never end. So here I sit in my new flannel jammies that have become my staple wardrobe, finishing yet another cup of coffee and contemplating the relative quietness that this coming year has entered in. Perhaps my lesson this year will be to understand that I can't plan the end and not plan the means. Perhaps. Interestingly enough I'm not worried about what the year will bring. We were at my aunt's a few days ago and as I was talking to my cousin he said you look happy. Content. It was so simple but I hadn't really thought about it. I am I said. I really am. I want to wonder if I am wiser, craftier, more self-assured, or maybe just more disillusioned. I want to question new levels of the old things I held dear. I want to want these untangible things but can't quite seem to find the energy. I wonder if I may have stumbled on the secret of life and then I stop to wonder if there really is a secret at all. Grampie says he puts in a garden because it is a great thing to see something grow, that it's satisfying to wake up in the morning to check on your work from the day before. And maybe that's it. Maybe it's about me growing into myself and everything around me. Maybe it's not about bright lights and fan-fare. Maybe it's waking up in the morning to see what has grown, even a little bit, from my work from the day before. Maybe it's about simple satisfaction that grows and spreads into little corners that I thought I couldn't reach.

I have ten more days before I leave. Another move to another town. But there's a difference this time - it's a running to instead of a running away. Maybe that's the miracle that last year brought, the new adventure. Funny how I spent so many years before thinking that I had missed my only chance. Funny how it ends up not being left to chance at all. There was no ring on my finger this time, and to be perfectly honest I'm not worried or concerned. He informed me that that would be a special day all to itself and left it at that so I will too.

Say yes to life.

anonymous

2006-12-12T07:49:00.000-09:00

I've been getting wonderful moments of inspiration at exactly the most inconvenient times. Thoughts will swirl around my frontal lobe and I say YES! That's IT! THAT'S what I mean to say! And I'm usually driving, so the Thought rolls down the window and jumps ship, fading into the life that sits in my rearview mirror. Even now, in the light of day without a vehicle to be seen, those once clear thoughts are hanging just outside the edges of clarity. So what I'm saying is that I really don't have much of anything sensible to say.

Exams are progressing well and oddly enough I actually find myself studying. Normally most terms thus far in my illutrious academic career, have been perforated with, maybe one or two (at most) exams that require work... the rest get read over and written, but fail to really jump into any limelight. This term, however, really threw a wrench into the whole process. They've demanded my time and consideration and I hate them for it, but it's nice to not walk in and go "ok, I totally don't remember any of this". So here I sit inside the University of New Brunswick's illustrious walls, doing my best to not make a mockery, questioning heavily of whether or not I am succeeding. That, and I'm waiting for my math study group.

Peter comes home a week from tonight and I am finding myself in that particular state of anxiousness for his safety. It always seems that the closer anything happens to Christmas, on any side of it, seems to make it all the worse. Maybe it comes from my staunch traditional side that says it is a time for friends, family, thanks, and reflection. Maybe it's a whispered fear that says I will never be the same if something happens right now. But then again, I would probably never be the same no matter what happened, but I'm hoping you know what I mean. Very little of my life has made it into chisled stone format. If anything, my days seem to reflect a big proverbial Grab Bag of change and lack of direction, except for Christmas. Christmas is different and I like that. I like that it's stable and turkey, friends and family, trees and endless Christmas carols. I like that I enjoy people a little more than usual, and everything that I have surrounding me has a large dose of borderline tacky attached to it. After all, how many times a year do you really get to dig out fake snow and hang shiney balls from anything that seems willing to let them hang? Exactly. So while I will continue to worry about Peter, both at work and while he travels home, I will also try to be concious of blessings and understanding that Whoever seems to be in charge of this Big Mess has a bigger scope than I do.

Just this week a girl was killed while crossing the highway - a common shortcut from the university to the section of town where she lived. She was also in the education program and if memory serves me, I had taken a class with her just this summer past. We never knew one another in the context of sitting down for coffee and discussings the frustrations of the day, but like so many you made eye contact in the hallways and said a hurried hello as you rushed off to class. She was 27, young, well travelled, and according to the obituary well loved by all those who knew her. So I thought about a lot of random things that all seemed to stem from hearing of her tragic and senseless death. I thought about how many people rush by and how so many more remove themselves further with headsets and watching their feet. Even where I work, an elementary school where you would think that a passion for learning should be nurtured and fed, is filled with heads down, rushing by. I thought about how often I see the Vice Principal several times a day and how she has never spoken to me. About how so many assistants are so worries that I may want to hone in on their jobs that they will meet my eye yet never smile. And I thought about fears and what they do to us and how even I get nervous about saying hello sometimes because I don't know how it will be received.

Peter's last name is Carson, and while I am not prone to giving out last names, it makes this a little more clear. He grew up on Carson Lane, fished in Carson Brook, and played in the woods that consists of over 200 acres between his father and his uncle. To get to these places you have to turn off the main road and eventually zig-zag your way off several sideroads. Last year we had a party out there, and Alisa, while familiar with the area, couldn't find the sign to direct her specifically. Peter's dad informed her that the snow plow had knocked it over and it was leaning up again the side of the house that sat directly across the street. And as I went up there last Saturday night for the anual Yankee Swap, I really got a good look at all the time and care that went into decorating their homes. The homes that had probably never had a mortgage and probably needed new windows and siding. Homes that were drafty and unlevel but had plenty of wood for the fire and something to level whatever was sitting crooked. What I noticed was that the outsides weren't perfect. They had glaring faults and missing paint. They wouldn't fetch the top market price yet they were invaluable and Christmas means that you haul out the lights and you work with what you've got. You hang bows on doors and string lights anywhere that will hold them because the only thing that really mattered about the outside was that it protected the inside, and it is the inside that matters most. The outside was a seasonal improvement.

So here I sit, remembering it's the inside that's important, concentrating on not rushing by, stepping outside of myself to say hello and taking the time to not only meet their eyes but smiling too.

It's sunny and cold outside. A beautiful day. Merry Christmas. :)

ballistic missile defense in 30 seconds

2006-12-06T04:24:00.001-09:00

I spend my Friday nights with this man. I am proud.

2006-12-06T03:23:00.000-09:00

The time has arrived. Snow is on the ground. The temperature is below zero and into the double digits. Classes are finished. Papers are written. Assignments are handed in.

Exams are about to begin.

And as we can look back at my response to exams, I laid down last night with the intention of having a nap and then studying late into the night. I laid down at 7:30. I woke up at 8:30p when *I think* my sister called. And for the record, when I laid down, I never expected to go into a coma. But I did. I crawled into my own bed, fully clothed (because apparantly I sleep better that way???), somehow managing to turn off lights and such en route to Queenie (the bed). And rolled over this morning, shortly after 6.

So here I sit, firmly planted on my couch, watching the day get brighter and brighter and listening to the news.... trying *unsuccessfully* to talk myself into opening my books. Although I will confess to a decided fear concerning these exams. I do actually need to do something. Which always sucks in my books, especially with regards to school work.

The other day I got tagged by Smarts (my sister!) and it was regarding 5 things that you may not know about me (or the correlation: things you never wanted to know about me!) I've been thinking about it, but it's harder than I thought (just as she said).

1. I'm still secretly plotting to get pregnant next summer. I really hope Peter's involved in it.

2. For someone as seemingly sociable as myself, I'm notorious for not calling or doing things. In fact, I am nearing Hermit status. And it kind of freaks me out.

3. I've come to terms with a lot of things in my life this year. Things that have always been there and have caused more stress than they ever should have. And it's a great feeling to let go.

4. I always start masturbating to thoughts of Peter. I always branch out after the initial go. *sorry - couldn't resist*

5. I totally fake being an adult. To be perfectly honest I don't have a f-ing clue about what's going on and so far I'm pulling it off.

2006-12-03T02:52:00.000-09:00

I've no rights to complain, but I'm about to. It's -6 (21.2F) but feels like -11(12.2F) and while that is not cold compared to many other parts of this large country, it's cold to me. We haven't had a good old fashioned winter in about five years... actually, now that I think about it, it was my first winter home, 2002 that we had the big one. Everyone complains about winter, that they don't want to see it snow, that they don't want the cold, quoting the addage that you don't have to shovel rain. But I'm not there. Yes, snow is a lot of work and cold is cold, but there's something to be said about it. Bring it on.

I'm moving to Fort McMurray, Alberta in January. It's been hovering around -30 (-22F) for awhile, and is not uncommon for it to dip to -40 and beyond. I may actually die when I step off the plane. Collapse right there between the aircraft and the airport. Needless to say, I should probably shut my mouth at the -11 because sooner than later, that will be balmy.

2006-11-29T16:12:00.000-09:00

Tonight was my last night class. Once a week, for three hours, I established just how poorly I am at math. Once a week, for three hours, I wondered how my sister can have such a passion for such a subject. Once a week, for three hours, I, somehow, found tangible answers to that particular subject's lofty questions. And I'm sitting at a 73. The class average, the mean, or better still, the best measurement of central tendancy, is 88. I suppose it would be important if I gave a particular rat's ass. Status quo, baby... or better yet, slightly below.

I have an itching rant. A great desire to curse the world, swear at The Man for stifling my existance as I know it. But I've got nothing. I'm tired and the drive home was a real pain, but I made it and now I'm in bed. It's as if every day that goes by I'm a little less like myself and I can't put it any more decipherable than that. Taking into account mom's universal advice: Don't worry Andrea, you probably just need a period.

Hi, allow me to introduce myself, Ms Dare2dv8, Drama Queen Extrodinare

for fuck sakes.

One a funnier note though, I was at mom and dad's last night, helping mom wrap christmas gifts (good night... please note: anything outside of school is classified as very good) and friends of theirs arrived.

At first glance, these particular friends are good people. Colourful, hardworking, honest - the type that would give you the shirt off their back, even if it was their only one. They kind that are always there to lend a hand. Where we come from, there is a dialect that is found only along the banks of the Miramichi River. Conversations are spoken quickly and words are often found running together or phonetically impossible to spell. Last night Dad and Paul were discussing all the changes that had occurred in our little town over the course of their lifetimes (they're not quite 60), how we went from being a hub, so being, well, little more than the Tim Horton's that sustains the retired / unemployed community wailers meeting to discuss their current woes. They talked about how the railway yard had shut down (tracks have been removed), how there were 6 general stores, 3 mills, and restaurants galore, t our present day, little. And Alta (Paul's wife) looked at me and said, and I quote:

"My gawd in heaven, andrea, I kid ya not, land sakes, pom me word, I swear to jesus you could stand up by the picnic site and fire a cannon and the son'awhore wouldna touch a thing' till she struck the catholic church in Blaffville!"

And this struck me as quite funny. So much so, I've thought about it all day when the rest of the prisoners at UNB got too close.

Allow me to translate.

First off, it's important to understand that "she" is a unversal pronoun. Usually referring to what most of the free world would say was "it", "she" is all encompassing. As in "My gawd, she's some cold out, ain't she?" She = weather. "She's a beauty!" She = vehicle, new plow, new fourwheeler, new chainsaw, etc. Important to note that it is never used in reference to significant female other. And don't think for a moment that I'm beyond language such as this, because let me tell you, I'm not. From "gettin' the right good scald on 'er" ("'er" is shortened form of "her", which could translate into "it"), which means "cook it thoroughly", to "I got right hot!", which is the same as "I warmed up rather quickly".

So what Alta was really was saying was this:

Andrea, the town has gotten so quiet in the past while. I think that if you went up the road and theoretically fired a cannon down Main Street, the likelihood of it actually hitting anything, is minimal.

The Taint Dance is on December 30th and it looks like we're going. If you're unfamiliar with the Taint Dance, it's a long standing tradition around these parts. Held between the 26th and no later than the 30th, it T'aint Christmas and it T'aint New Years, so we may as well have a party!

Reason enough for me.

:)

English usage is sometimes more than mere taste, judgment and education -- sometimes it's sheer luck, like getting across the street.

EB White

Sierra Mist Holiday Hawk

2006-11-27T15:35:00.001-09:00

I got in trouble today over this particular commercial. It's my favourite and as I was telling it with gusto, my professor informed me that if I thought it was so funny that I would perhaps like to share it with the rest of the class. Not catching her scathing sarcasm, I very innocently said, yes! They too would love the Holiday Hawk! She quickly informed me that she did not find me funny, not even remotely amusing actually. So you really don't want me to share my story? I asked. No, Andrea. I do not.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it - let me know what you think!

a

2006-11-25T04:04:00.000-09:00

The time has arrived. Catapulted through by moments of hysteria, monetary poverty and unexpected wealth beyond belief, it has come. Tim Horton's has brought out their cups; stores are having 3 hour spot specials, and pandamonium takes precedence over all possible sanity.

The Christmas Season has arrived.

In My Parents' House

2006-11-23T13:49:00.000-09:00

In my parents' house
there are many doors, or atleast many places where doors once hung.
and when I think about one door closing and another one opening
I can honestly say that I don't always believe that to be true.

In my parents' house
are coffee mugs that you have to heat up in the winter
and none of them ever match.
Like everything else in life, they too come with seasons
and commemorative moments.

In my parents' house
is an after-thought bathroom that once was a closet,
that needs a new fan,
and has orange walls because I wanted to surprise them
but it was a surprise that I never really thought through.

In my parents' house
we still have our old rooms with our old beds,
and everything that made our rooms ours.
Mom has clothes that fill every closet but that's ok
she can have the closet because the rooms are still ours.

In my parents' house
was love
is love
always be love.
Disjointed by days, but never misplaced.
But that's like a lot of things too.

6:57am

2006-11-23T01:57:00.000-09:00

All I wanted to do this morning was sit down to drink my coffee. To take just enough time to finish one full cup of brew and stare at the wall. So I sat down. And I cried. Because I felt guilty for sitting down to drink my coffee.

This is retarded. I'm calling in sick. I need a mental health day.

2006-11-22T15:45:00.001-09:00

I feel unusual. Not like myself, yet exactly like myself, all at once. It's a strange sensation. The week has been heavy - a lot of busy work that pretains to little of anything important other than that the time it takes me to complete are precious minutes I will never have again. The lights in my house are blowing in succession. I'm going to see how long it takes me to be completely in the dark. Everyone needs a goal.

I've been watching myself this week with the things that I do that I usually don't think about... thinking about the non-thinkables and how I react to them. Some are typical, others, a little sideways. I'm off kilter and I'm not entirely sure why. It's not that I'm easily annoyed, yet I have little patience for certain things, behaviours, stupidities, day to day musings around. I'm abrupt and unscathed by my abruptness and it's as if I am powerless to stop it. The old "I want to go / I want to stay mentality". Only I'm not sure what it is that I want. No, that's not entirely true. I want school to end. I need school to end. School needs to end.

I got a message on my msn today from a friend of mine that I used to work with. She said "Hey to you too. I never see you on msn except to be busy! Yes you told me you are moving for a while. Good for you , I am happy for you. I know you will have a good time there. You are the best person I know! I hope you are happy." And I've sat here for a good 15 minutes staring at it. My caustic side says she needs to meet more people if I'm the best she knows. The gentle side of me is touched because I know she means it because she always says how hard it is for her to make friends. I have a few more sides but they're still in deliberation. My complaint around the university is that no one thinks for themselves within the walls of what is supposed to be a thinking hub. They stare at their feet when they walk. They don't acknowledge when they spin around and nail you with their backpack. They get annoyed when you get into line before they do. And I am turning into them. Except I'm not. I am acting like them, but I'm not turning into them. Yet. A fine line.

I layed in bed two nights ago and thought about giving and taking and which of the two I do more. Some are born givers and some born takers and no balance is ever struck because the more one gives the more the other takes. And I don't know which side of the fence I stand. And there is no balance from my vantage point either. I guess maybe the question would be about how crucial is what I give or take? And that's like trying to nail jello to a wall.

When I got home tonight it was dark everywhere and the stars were out in full. I saw every constellation there was even though I can only name the dippers. There were just too many stars to think that some may be missing. I was thankful for the beauty of the sky and it reminded me to let go of a lot of things I hold on to and worry about. Or atleast pretend for the moment that I've let go. Sometimes that's enough to get through. And I told God that he did a good job at creating the universe and the portrait in the sky. I just asked him to stay out of my life because he only seemed to make a mess and those messes were a real bitch to clean up.

"I hope you are happy. " she said.

me too.

2006-11-19T14:59:00.000-09:00

I got drunk as a skunk last night. Understandably so, I appreciate that I am completely unaware of how much a skunk is able to consume (but I did have a dog that was a cross between a mini doberman and a lhapso ahpso that could drink beer like a son of a whore - again, no idea how much that is in precise measurements other than a LOT. In fact, at various house parties I would look to the corner where my friend Darren would have two beer mugs, one for himself, the other for Sam (dog). All you'd see were the tips of Sam's ears sticking out and Darren grinning like an idiot. Sam always slept well after Darren left.) Anyways, the point of is all was that we started drinking in the afternoon and it ended not-too-late in the evening. Liquored to the tits by 7, tits up by 9. And for the record, I wasn't alone. Peter's cousin's girlfriend helped me polish off the rye. We bought pizza, built a fire, fixed the garage, did the things that needed completed.

It was funny, Rebecca (drunken partner) lived in the same small town that I did years ago on Vancouver Island, and now we live in the woods on the opposite side of the country. We discussed how the coasts differed, and how our lives differed when we lived there. A lot's changed, some good, some bad. Somtimes I think I've lost pieces of who I once was, but I guess that's just part of growing up. Sometimes how things are done around these parts and doings that I don't understand. And that's ok too. We talked about how so many around here marry so young and live out their days in an ok existance... doing what needs done, taking care of the things that need taking care of, accepting their road and their lot and doing the best they can. Never digging a hole they can't get out of, but at the same time, rarely scratching the surface to discover the treasures that may be underneath. I said to Rebecca that I never thought that I would live at the top of a hill that leads down into a small town. I never suspected that I would worry about getting the barbeque put away for the winter, or getting the yard cleaned up before the snow comes. I didn't think that I would stop backpacking or picking up and going or not worrying about what tomorrow brought because it was only me to worry. Funny how things change. I never expected to enjoy some changes as much as I do, but then again, I never expected to miss some of them as much as I do either.

I went up to Grampie's today. He laughed at me drinking the bottle of rye and informed me that it was ok, sometimes it needed to be done. He also told me that I gained weight. I told him that sometimes it was ok to lie to me. He offered me some of his pumpkin preseves that he made.... said they won't hurt me and I look good with a little extra ass. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. My uncle said that the tv only gets TFC. Dad asked him what that was. Two Fuckin' Channels he said.

Deep in the recesses

2006-11-16T15:44:00.000-09:00

I'm cleaning up my desktop... burning pictures onto cds, clearning up junk... yaddy yaddy yaddy. I just found this one from last spring. It's entitled "It's Ok - He's Gay".

I found it to be quite self explanatory.

I am...

2006-11-14T14:33:00.000-09:00

I am tired. But that happens when you're trying to hold it together. I sometimes wonder what would happen if I let go. I would laugh more. Maybe tomorrow. I pretend that I can fly. I worry about not getting "that" done. I'm not sure what "that" is, but there's a lot of it. I forget that life is made up of more than "that". So "that" looks pretty inconsequential. I understand that I am not always wrong, but sometimes I'm misunderstood. And being right isn't always great. I get that life rarely works like I expect it to. That's not always so bad. I'm good at keeping my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds. I like to think there's a healthy balance but sometimes the scales tip, to which side, I'm not sure.

But that's ok.

To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not, rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common--this is my symphony.

William Henry Channing

Changes

2006-11-14T14:27:00.001-09:00

I'm fortunate in the fact that I do what I enjoy - I teach. There is a great satisfaction in doing so for me. It challenges me to be more without actually changing the foundation of who I am or what I am about. And that's nice. If there is any "dark cloud" in the area of my career... or the career that I am learning, it is probably where I do what I do. It is an interesting school. Everyone whispers there.

Maybe it's because I'm not a whisperer that I notice it, but they do. There's always something that seems to need to be kept quiet amoungst a select few. It's interesting. It's a place where there are less people who make eye contact than there are those who will look everywhere except at you. There are defined groups and you either fit in or you don't, but like any good rule there are a few exceptions. But they are exactly that - a few. A sense of unease fills the corridors, especialy if someone unknow may be present in some employed form. Strangers are not accepted with open arms, let alone strangers that may be there to work. The jobs are theirs and they will not fathom or allow them to be harmed. Which, to me, is funny in the unfunny way, since I am neither a total strange, nor have I stoeln their work. I am acknowledged, barely, because I have shown a sonsistancy, a longevity that has defied their quiet hums of conversation and their eyes darting towards me... or atleast in my general direction. But those few... the exceptions to the rule, the vast minority, make it tolerable.... manageable... even, dare I say it,... enjoyable. I love what I do, I manage where I work, I have no use for uselessness. It's a good lesson.

I started working with a little boy in grade 4, some one on one stuff. We have a good time and he works hard for me. He sought me out at lunch time to make sure that he was still coming to see me at 1:30. I told him yes, I would make sure that I came and got him so long as he promised to work hard and I didn't have to put him in a head lock. He grinned at me and said Scouts Honour. I smiled because I knew he meant it, even though he's not a scout. In fact, he's the youngest of 4 kids by many years. He gets himself up and ready for school. Sometimes he forgets to pack his lunch. His mom's not always around and his dad is usually pretty busy. He rarely gets his hair combed and doesn't like to read aloud. He loves to draw trucks and he still talks about how much fun he had with his older sister and her boyfriend when they took him trick or treating. He asked twice to make sure that I was going to see him again on Thursday. These are the things that will eat me alive as a teacher. These are the moments I treasure and dread, the kind of thing that keeps you awake for both the good and the bad. These are the times I question the existance of a just God but also the very second I understand that there are unseen angels taking care of little ones. I sometimes wonder how kids make it through, having to put up with the likes of we careless adults, shouldering everything they never should have to.

So in light of all this, I am going to take an extra effort and be kind to strangers. I am going to make eye contact, say excuse me, smile, and let in someone trying to merge. I am going to breathe deeply and count to ten. I'm going to name 3 good things before I grumble about one. I'm going to bite my tongue more.

Tomorrow I go for my brain scan. Wish me luck because I've got too many blessings going on to have a wrench thrown into it now.

Where did we ever get the crazy idea that in order to make children do better, first we have to make them feel worse? Think of the last time you felt humiliated or treated unfairly. Did you feel like cooperating or doing better?

Jane Nelson

I HATE BLOGGER BETA

2006-11-10T02:40:00.000-09:00

TO THE GODS BEHIND THIS GOD-AWFUL CREATION:

LET ME THE HELL OUT!!!

2006-11-08T18:18:00.000-09:00

I'm skeptical of blessings. It's not that I don't believe they're out there, on the contrary, I see them everyday. In fact just tonight I encountered more than one in less than an hour an a half. But that doesn't stop me from being wary. To me they're a bit like credit cards - the whole "get it now, pay later" mentality. I'm expecting my "blessing" to be recalled with a great cost... one I never saw coming. And let me tell you, it's really kind of a shitty outlook.

My talent is guilt. I'm good at it. In fact, I would dare say that at a weak moment, you can darn well guilt me into pretty much anything, no matter how outlandish the request, not matter how lame, now matter how inconsequential in the grandios picture. Wednesdays are my tough days. Classes start at 9:30a and end at 7:30p and Thursday mornings are my early start. Hump day turns into a mountain. Mom's been in St. Andrews on a principal's conference. I met her tonight in town. What did I want to do, she asked me. I need to go pick up some bread and margarine so she came and walked around the grocery store with me. I had a bit day so I was glad to talk things through her. She's a good sounding board in cases with school, and really, cases with life. So I talked about everything I had found out from advisors and banks and student loans and housing and everything that was on my plate that needed sorted through before I made a temporary move 3000 miles west. And she listened and offered some input and said that I was doing the right thing. And everytime she wanted to let me know that she really did disapprove of Peter and I really actually living together, she stopped in mid inhale and said "Andrea, I love you.". And she told me that several times.

Andrea, I love you. Andrea, I love you. Andrea, I love you.

And I couldn't help but stop and be overwhelmed by just how much she did. I hugged her close and said mom, I love you too. Forever. She let go tonight, which is hard for her, and in doing so I had an overwhelming desire to draw near. So when I think about blessings and their costs, I get confused by this turn of events. Because I needed the blessing that she offered, through grace and acceptance and understanding and I can't help but draw back, even slightly, in fright of what the cost might be. And could I afford it? But then I have to stop and think that worries like that are about as important as worrying what colour eyes a newborn baby will have when for the time being the best thing to do is count fingers and toes.

So I'll count my fingers and toes, astonishing myself with how my blessings that have given so much more than they have ever costs, overflow my digits. And I'll accept my mother's love as love and nothing more, because it's everything.

She looked at me and said that people think she's boring because she's never smoked pot, had never been drunk, never slept around. What do you think of that, she asked. I smiled at her and said that I had never smoked pot and then the conversation just kind of hung there. And she smiled and said Andrea, I love you. And she does.

So maybe my outlook is clouded and my own undoing. Maybe it's me and not him trying my best to stand up on a solid rock in the middle of a raging storm with water all around. Maybe it's me with my hands above my head and screaming into the wind Oh My God! And not know myself whether it is a prayer or a curse.

strangely, tonight I am satisfied that no payment with be exacted.

Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven.

Jars of Clay

2006-11-06T14:52:00.000-09:00

I'm having a tough time focusing. Now that the decision is made and everyone seems to be pleased (because I'm a pleaser, and I know that I shouldn't worry about other people, but I do. And I tell myself that I'm working on it. I'm pretty sure I'm getting better at it. I'm sure of it.). Now it just seems that the meantime is filled with little other than fluff. I keep thinking that I have lists to make and boxes to pack; however, my reality says that I have two science journals to get handed in before I go to bed tonight and I have to adjust my history paper that was due at 2:30 this afternoon. I'll lose 3% on it, but I figure it would probably be best to take the percentage than what she would dock off of me if I handed it in as is. Part of me thinks it's a good paper. The majority of me thinks it's shit. Funny about my history prof, I really didn't expect us to work out as well as we have, but we've surprisingly managed. For awhile I really felt she needed to go to a bar, pick up someone she didn't know and have dirty sex for atleast 3 or 4 hours - the kind that makes you blush in all the inappropriate places when you think about it even days later. But if I'm to be honest I'm probably as intimidated by her as she is by me. We're the same age. I'm the same age as one of my tenured profs. And wait, it gets better. A guy said hello to me in the SUB (Student Union Building). I looked a bit confused until I really looked at him. I used to babysit him.

We had our first snow of the season this morning. Outside is a slight whisp of white and it really is quite lovely. People nearly broke their necks on the highways this morning, but nothing more damaged than a bumper.

My nephew just popped online... his msn name says "ilu Amanda". Does that mean I Love You, Amanda?? HE'S 14 YEARS OLD!!!

I need a drink.

Screw the decaf coffee, I'm having rye.

Sunday Morning

2006-11-05T04:47:00.000-09:00

The weather has changed this weekend - heavy frost and days in the sunshine that don't reach much past zero. It's not quite 9am but the sun is coming out and sky is cloudless. It really is a beautiful day. Clear. It's a clear day.

My paper isn't done yet and it's due in about 29 hours, but that's a minor bump in the road. I don't know if it's funny or frightening that I can let a 10 page paper disrupt the flow of my world. It'll get done. It's just one of those things.

Last night I went to Grampie's, drank some tea, ate some of his banana bread that he made the day before, and then some chicken wings that my uncle Nick put in. He asked me how my week was going and I said Well, Gramp I've spent a lot of time sleeping and crying this week. He chuckled and looked at me over top of his reading glasses and said, yeah? me to! It's been a pretty good if you ask me what I think! I'm really not sure what I will do when it comes time for grampie to try out heaven because as far as I'm concerned he is really meant to live forever. So we chatted about this and that and I told him that I was having a tough time getting my act together. He asked me what I was going to do about it, because I'm the one in the driver's seat. He doesn't want me to go away, but he understands that sometimes it's needed. So I'm taking a break. I'm taking next term off, provided we can get the details straightened out.

I'm heading back out with Peter. I was timid to ask him... to go out and what would he think. I told him that I needed to talk to him and I needed him to be honest. He said ok and then promptly asked me what colour the kitchen was. I laughed and said that it wasn't about the kitchen. So I told him I wanted to take this term off and come out. He asked me twice if that's what I wanted and I answered twice that yes it was. And then he got excited. I think I expected the worst, but it didn't turn out that way. I think my seams might be tightening.

One ship sails East,

And another West,

By the self-same winds that blow,

Tis the set of the sails

And not the gales,

That tells the way we go.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Hard Habit to Break

2006-11-03T14:53:00.000-09:00

My mother just told me that I'm falling apart at the seams. Strangely enough, I think she may be on to something.

2006-11-02T14:32:00.000-09:00

If I haven't been waking up in the middle of the night, I've been having dreams that are so vivid and real that I am surprised when the alarm goes off in the morning and realize that it was all a dream. The week is busy and going by quickly and like all busy weeks, going by quickly is a double edged sword.

The weather has been overcast, rainy and cold, on the verge of threatening to snow, but seeming to change its mind for just a little while longer. The leaves are all gone and my immediate world has taken on a grey scale colour, like a picture from a long time ago. Peter's home in about six weeks and classes are done in 4, exams in five. You'll notice that I listed the most important dates first.

Last weekend I had a hen party, and when I say a hen party, I mean that I had a lot of women into my home for a tasting party (spices and dips). It was a rainy afternoon and a perfect day for sipping coffee, munching and enjoying one anothers company. We laughed and they all loved my paint colours, remarking how "homey" everything felt, how warm and inviting. I was so tickled and blessed in the fact that I could have them in... that Peter has offered me his home to use as my own.

I'm not sure if you remember this, but I've linked it so you can refresh your memory. Just yesterday Alisa and I were back to the same spot, eating the same thing for lunch, chatting and laughing just as before. And he walks by. He stops at our table and says that we look familar, if we had met before because certainly he couldn't forget meeting two beautiful girls such as we. We smiled and giggled a bit, reassuring him that he hadn't forgotten us, just as we hadn't forgotten him, in fact I had thought of him only the day before, wondering how he was. He asked if he could join us, of course, we said, but that we did have to leave sooner than later to be back for class. He said a moment was better than nothing. And I've not been able to get that out of my mind. A moment was better than nothing. And he would know. He spoke again about losing his middle daughter when she was only 25. He told me again of just how much I reminded him of her and I can't seem to find the words to justify why I should deserve such an honour. That same sadness was still present in his eyes, just as it had been months ago, as I'm sure it's been there for years... as I'm certain that it will be there forever. But he understood that there were certain diseases for which there was no cure. Wars and angels, broken hearts and pockets full of illusions. Flights of grace and moments worth more than nothing. There are certain things that we shouldn't forget. And our humanity is one of them. I heard a song today and the line that stood out was I have no fear of drowning - it's this breathing that's taking all the work. And I think he understood that. When I think of him I picture him standing on a solid rock in an angry ocean with his hands above his head, shouting Oh My God into the wind and at the top of his lungs and the world standing by watching will never understand whether it is a prayer or a curse. Only he holds the answer. We are merely onlookers.

So I've been thinking about it all... all my moments of nonesense, moments of clarity, moments of joy, surprise, apathy and lack. And it occurred to me that I should be thankful to have them because sometimes that's all we have for the timebeing, the interim. I catch myself wondering what it is that's really important, what is it really that makes the world go round, what constitutes enough importance to keep putting one foot in front of the other? And then suddenly came my quiet reply.

Moments.

Today was National Epitaph Day. Funny, but I couldn't get past that it really doesn't matter where they bury me because no matter what, I'll still be dead. What I would hope though would be that the life I lived would speak beyond the words carved on my headstone. That someone would see me, even years after I have gone, in the eyes and face of someone else. Now that's an epitaph - to have lived a life so rich and meaningful that you're certain, that somewhere you're still there. So for today, may you let go of the chaff and hold onto the grain that is important. Breath deeply, laugh loudly and remember that it's all, eventually, water under the bridge, the Eve of Bittersweet.

If I had my life to live over, I'd dare to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax; I'd limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones.
You see, I'm one of those people who lived sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after the other, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I've been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute. If I had it to do over again, I would travel lighter than I have.
If I had my life to live over again, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dance; I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I would pick more daisies.

Nadine Stair

2006-10-30T15:30:00.000-09:00

If you take your left hand and make a small space between your thumb and pointer finger (your pointer finger is on top, thumb on the bottom) and make it so it kind of looks like a duck bill. Then if you separate the two of them just wide enough to stick your pinky finger between them just far enough to cover the pinky's nail... well, that's about how much farther I have before I really begin to fuck myself over in my university career. Out of 3 midterms written, I've gotten back two C's and a B+. One of my history profs granted us 3 more days before we handed in our term research paper... it's now due on this coming Monday. I'm hoping to start my research on Thursday.

The wind is blowing with vengence. I'm hoping it will blow my head out of my ass and take me out of neutral.

I stand by all the misstatements that I've made.

Dan Quayle

Come Undone

2006-10-29T01:46:00.000-08:00

It’s almost November and outside my window is starting to look a bit more like I feel. Bland. Like the yellow line in the middle of the road, I am halfway between either extreme, neither good nor bad, just middle of the road. It’s been tough to sit down and write, not that I haven’t had things to say, just finding that it’s taking that effort to actually say what it is that I want said that I don’t have. I suspect no one really minds, but it’s hard when you have a jumble of things rolling around and you’re not sure where to start in getting them sorted out.

I’ve been inexplicably sad lately. Mind you I understand that I’ve been sick and busy and tired and yaddy yaddy yaddy, but the reality is that I’m lonesome to the point where it is a physical ache. This is the hardest time I’ve ever had with Peter being gone and more days than not I am nearly certain that it will never end, even when I know that it will. It’s just such a desperately long time right now and my head doesn’t feel glued on straight. My heart hurt the other night because he said I was hard to talk to lately and that I hadn’t been very friendly in the past few weeks. I felt sick that he felt he couldn’t talk to me because right now, that’s all we have. A fucking phone with a 3,000 mile cord. And I know I was acting like an obstinate kid answering yes, no, and sleeping in the middle of the bed, hogging his side when I so religiously keep it as his because I know he’ll be home soon. He’ll be home soon… my mantra, my solace, my putting one foot in front of the other. It’s the meantime that sucks right now.

School is tough this term and I’m not used to that. I’m used to going to 75% of my classes, doing occasional homework and keeping a comfortable 3.3 GPA. Status quo. Comfortable. Requiring, but not too much. But I’m strung out and pulled, feeling like I’m trying to run and catch up to the caboose, the last possible car on the track. And all the running has made me inextricably tired and I don’t know how to find rest.

But being the proverbial optimist because if I’m not I think I may die, it is only for a season. Peter will be home on December 19 and while I’m not exactly certain on how many days that is, but I’m certain that it’s one less than yesterday, so even if I feel like I’m standing still, it’s good to know that the sun is still rising and setting, moving along as the universe intended. I also had to start re-believing that God is once again hearing my prayers. Because I need that. I need to know that there is a larger outlook than my own and I have to grant that outlook to God because that’s what I know. And to learn about new higher power right now is too much for my small brain and overwhelmed heart. So for now there is a comfort in the known, whether it is right or wrong. Maybe I need a touch of grace, or strength, fortitude, and acknowledgment that I’m not slugging at this alone and that Peter needs me as much as I need him. Need. I never knew that I could need like I do. I guess it's my turn. For now I can't be the chaser, the go-getting, the planner or whatever other action hat I have worn previously. For now I need to fall in line and learn the rhythm of the world around me, hear the beat of the general drum. Regroup. Get by. Get through. A season.

I reread She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb. I read it four years ago and it surprised me with the affect that it had on me. When I put it down the first time the details were so vivid and startling that I would catch my breath simply by seeing the cover. I noticed that the details had faded so perhaps it was time to read it again. It was the same once again, but this time with a greater gentleness - a softness in understanding. A new perspective.

I can't wait to go skating.

The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.

Charles DuBois

My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plate -- that's my philosophy.

Thornton Wilder

2006-10-24T13:21:00.000-08:00

The only time that I was moderately frightened was when Alisa looked at me and said "I don't tailgate because my reflexes aren't that great". She was doing somewhere around 130 km/hr at that particular moment. So she pulled over so I could shit outside of the car and outside of my pants. It was close.

The wedding was nice. We went to highschool with the bride and it was a time of great reflection and excessive drinking. We laughed, danced, and had late night conversations laced with surprise and acceptance at how our lives had both converged and drifted apart. I came away with a great appreciation for my simple life. Actually, I was excited by my life. Inspired. I am inspired about life and love and all those silly little bumps in the road that I usually stub my toe on. And in the big picture, stubbed toes are pretty minimal.

Oh yeah, and we finally came up with a name for that snazzy body odour that makes its presence known on long trips. Travel Crotch. We had Travel Crotch. And don't even for a minute try to make yourself believe that you don't know what I'm talking about.

And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.

Abraham Lincoln

See it. Hear it. Feel it.

2006-10-13T17:40:00.000-08:00

If you remember, way back in July, I posted a comment that Peter made. The summary went something along the lines of "If you paint one more room, it's over". I ran this by Kiki as I finished purchasing the paint for the kitchen. She feels that he would have most definately meant that after I finished painting this particular wing of the mansion. That's what we're going with for now. Because even I, in all my colour attacks, may have possibly outdone myself. And I'm not sure how I feel about it because right now I am sitting in the lazy boy with my feet propped up and looking at the colour that is entitled "Passage to India". Can you even begin to guess what that may be? I'll tell you one thing: no judgement can be made before the second coat is on. I'm not telling him about it until he lands home on Dec 19 and only then am I going to go with the assumption that he is so excited to see me, that he will blot out that his formerly white walls with matching border print are gone and replaced with, well, orange. In fact, I would dare say that one of two things will happen. First, he will shit himself. Secondly, he will put me in line with the Messiah and say Jesus Andrea, what was wrong with how it was? When he says this his eyebrows will raise into his hairline and he will look mildly panicked. He will proceed through the rest of the house to see what other mayhem has taken place in his absence. I will stand quietly, with my head down, trying desperately not to laugh, and remember that I really have turned his eggshell world upside down and replaced it with rainbows. Well, atleast I think it's rainbows. He may consider it more along the lines as colourful storm clouds waiting to strike. I said to him, really Peter, if my painting the walls is going to cause you this much internal turmoil, you should probably be prepared for the simple fact that eventually, I'll probably pull way worse shit.

Joyful

2006-10-08T17:34:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I forget to be thankful. Sometimes I get in a real snit and disregard everything that's really important in the big picture. I suppose it would be safe to say that sometimes I sweat the small stuff... the proverbial bumps in the road. I'm lonesome this weekend... lonesome in the way where I wonder if this time in our lives will ever end, and why does one year feel like ten. I lost my focus. There was a post from a long time ago about fives - a tag - and the last point of it was to list five words that mean something to me, and that really stuck with me. I would find myself, at the strangest occassions, trying to come up with five words that meant a lot to me and then put them into the perspective of why.

Joyful. I've thought about this word for a number of years, strangely enough. It seems fairly straightforward and distinct, elliciting a sensation. Once upon a very long time ago, back in my bible school days, I took a Philipians course. Philipians is a book in the New Testament and is often labelled the book of Joy. During the course we had to give a definition of joy. Happiness? Jesus Others and You? A good feeling? And then I read something interesting. I read a book that was called When Heaven is Silent and the author talked about Joy, which I always thought was strange. But he said something interesting. Joy is not the absence of pain, it is the presence of God. With my present day decided lack of faith in miracles and much unseen, I still can't dismiss that. Because it's when the fog clears and the shroud lifts. It's a sense of overwhelming when you discover that you are not merely a drop in the bucket, that you have a position and a place, that no matter how small or insignicifacnt you believe it to be at that exact moment, it is still a place and position and is utterly tangible and real.

Family. This afternoon I was taken into Peter's very large family and treated as one of their own. We played horseshoes, ate turkey, drank tea and sampled the large assortment of homemade pies. I laughed and rocked babies, played with the kids and the adults and had a good time finding my groove. And then I went to Grampie's. Mom was there along with 2 of her six brothers and one of her sisters. We laughed and carried on, reminiscing about thanksgiving that my cousin shot my uncle (a whole other story that still makes us laugh - he's fine besides the shrapnel in his foot). Family is important. Family keeps you sane and makes you crazy all at once and in the end it's worth it all.

Mistakes. I used to wonder if I was the only one who never got it right on the first go. I learned that I am not. In fact, it is an elite club to which the entire world belongs to at some point. Maybe we should get t-shirts made that say "I Screwed It Up the First Time Too".

Grace. My love for this word has always been there. It's my understanding of it that I think has been lacking. All I know is that it often leads me back to joyful... back to square one of trying to get it right.

Thanks. There have been stages in my life where I have been at such a loss for words, that a quiet Thank You was all I could get out. And to me that's more than just gratitude. Thanks is heartfelt and humble, taking the wind out of your sails while keeping your boat afloat and going in the right direction.

I am reminded that life is bigger than right now.

The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.

Eric Hoffer

2006-10-06T14:38:00.000-08:00

One of the side effects, well, the main side effect, of mono is that I sleep a lot. In fact, everytime I get even close to a sitting or leaning position, I could probably doze off. Last night Peter called around 10. I had a nap after I got home from school and was doing up some homework at the time and dressed in my yoga pants, t-shirt, zip up hoodie, socks and slippers. We chatted about this and that for about 40 minutes. He's going away to Calgary for the weekend and wanted to make sure that I knew how to get a hold of him if I needed to. When we began our conversation, I got a bit tired so decided to lie down. When I hung up, I turned off the light and settled in for the night. I woke up this morning, nice and warm and have a really tough time pulling my butt out to get ready for the day. I was still dressed. Completely. Still had my slippers on.

I giggled.

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.

Albert Einstein

2006-10-05T15:18:00.000-08:00

Capital FM loves Shania Twain. I mean loves her. In a freaky adoration kind of way. Except they only seem to love one song of hers - You're still the One.... because they play it over and over and over and over.... well, you get the picture.

And in case you were wondering, as I'm sure you weren't, I have essentially fallen off the proverbial map of the blogging world. It's pretty much taking everything I have to stay awake and get the necessities done throughout the day. I'm still going with a full course load and work, although work is pretty simple... only 10 hrs / week, so it's manageable. I'm finding very comfortable positions in the least likely places to lay down. I've got a wicked head cold on top of everything else, so the region above my shoulders feels like it could silmultaneously explode due to pressure, or implode due to excessive blowing. Blowing my nose. Not much else these days.

I'm in both shock and awe that this weekend is Thanksgiving... a bit early for my usual liking, but its pending arrival says that it doesn't care about my liking. October is only beginning but when I think about everything that is en route to happening, it's like it's over already. And that kind of freaks me out. I've got 2 midterms next week, and then in a week and a half, Kiki and I will be travelling to Toronto for a wedding of a friend... should be a good time. I always get anxious about time flying by... in school I'm always happy to see it zip by, but I worry about wishing it away.... good things never come by wishing time away.

Peter's home on December 19th for 2 full weeks. This year we're having the New Year's party at our place. Last year was a ball (Gia's cottage) and it was nice just to be with friends in a very informal setting... we're looking for that again. Expect your invites soon.

I work with Kindergarten and grade 1 kids. To say the least, they're pretty cute and daily I offer prayers of Please Lord, Don't Make Me Teach a Full Classroom of Them. Because we would get N O T H I N G done. Ever. Because I would be laughing and that would only encourage them. Because today I met a little girl coming in from recess, with her coat slung over her shoulder and her hair all in an uproar, walking at a near run as if she were trying to keep her upper body from tumbling forward, trying to keep up with the little boy ahead of her, all the while saying "Oh yeah! I'll show you a weirdo, WEIRDO!". And out came her tongue, her eyes crossed, and I swear if she could have made her ears go crooked she would have. And I laughed all day. And I couldn't look at the teacher chastise her for it not being proper behaviour for school or little girls. And all I could think was that I really hoped that she never grows out of that. Because what's life without weirdos?

Sunday morning I was watching Veggie Tales, and if you have never had the pleasure, they're Veggies, telling Tales. Larry the Cucumber and Bob the Tomato usually lead the lessons to be learned. Last week's lesson was that you should share your donuts because friends are better than donuts and it's important to share with your friends. Or atleast it was something to that affect and I've thought about it all week. Or maybe it had more to do with two asparagus named Ootar and Sfen. Ootar had a lisp and he thought Bob the Tomato was silly. Can you imagine? A lispy asparagus named Ootar thought Bob was silly. Weirdo.

Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly; devils fall because of their gravity.

G.K. Chesteron

2006-09-29T14:58:00.000-08:00

Well, it's confirmed: I've got mono. And I feel like shit. I went to the eye doctor and apparently there's something constricting the muscle / a muscle behind / beside my eye, so he's recommended a brain scan too.... so that's interesting. But for now, we're all relieved.

I've been really touched by all the kind words of encouragement - it's meant the world.

the skinny

2006-09-28T14:53:00.000-08:00

I thought I should update you on what's happening...

First off, I haven't been feeling well for about a month now... thus the initial pregnancy thoughts. Wicked headached, nausea, and near blackouts all seemed to point me towards this direction. I'm not prone to any of the aforementioned, so when they hit for extended visits, which they have never done before, I was a bit confused and looked to the obvious solutions. Obviously, the obvious wasn't so obvious at all. I've also been sleeping about 11 hrs a night and then needing a nap partway through the day. This isn't normal.

I had my doctor's appointment on Tuesday and I have to say that he is wonderful. He's very thorough and for a small town GP, we're more than fortunate to have him - we're blessed. At work he's a very sombre man, and my visit with him was no different this time. If nothing else, it was a little more grave.

He gave me an intense going over. Swollen lymphs aren't usually a call for concern, however, mine are also attached with seeing double on the same side as the swelling. My balance is off and I'm suffering for nasty headaches and, believe it or not, losing my appetite a little more each day. And I'm an eater. When he looked at me and said Get dressed, we need to talk. I thought two things: (1) damn, this doesn't sound good, and (2) sounds like a date gone bad.

So he's concerned. So he put me to the top of the list for extensive blood work, a few chest x-rays and a brain scan. Tomorrow I'm going to the optomitrist and he does a sort of optical view of your brain, take from behind your eyes. Mom wants to break my knees so I have to go to the hospital, dad wants me to come and spend the night, and Kiki just keeps say Don't die. I really can't have you die right now. The only trouble is that while this is new to everyone else (and relatively so to me), I'm still feeling just as shitty as I have for the last few weeks, but now everyone wants to drive me everywhere. It just feels like I have a really rotten flu, minus the runny nose and sore throat.

I don't know what to say. I'm not sure how to react and I don't know how to make people feel better because I don't know what's going on. So in the words of my friend Tim, whose name I always spell as Time, I'll just keep keepin' on. I don't bruise easily, so that offers comfort. I feel like I'm trying to see through the fog, thinking that I'll catch a clear glimpse before I come right up on it. Do you ever just get really tired? Like you're holding it all together and barely managing, but managing nonetheless? But then someone comes along and adds just one more thing to the pile? Even if it's small. And all you can manage to do is try not to cry and then you're scared that if you do that, it's all going to slip from your meager grip. But how do you let go of something that you don't really have a handle on?

The heart has its reasons which reason knows not of.

Blaise Pascal

Tired

2006-09-26T13:43:00.000-08:00

I went to see my doctor today. He and I have a lengthy, yet sporadic history together. There are very few aches and pains in my life... I like to save my trips to his office for Holy Shit / WTF moments.

As you have read, I have recently had a new addition to my neck - a lump. It is very non-descript and painless; however, I am told it is not good. For tomorrow I have been pushed to the front of the line for blood work, a chest x-ray and a brain scan. They said they would like to rule out mono before they do a biopsy. Apparently I am seeing double on the same side where the lump has established residence.

I'm tired tonight and not sure what to think, so I'm not. I'm going to grampie's. He's always a good place to be.

2006-09-25T07:54:00.000-08:00

I have a doctors appointment tomorrow because I found another lump, this time at the base of my skull, along my neck. It's about the size of a pea (or feels to be) and may possibly (but certainly not certain) have to due with the constant headaches and moments of why-is-the-world-tilting, along with my neck stiffness. Apparently my sister-in-law could actually see it protruding last night. Interesting. Anyways, when I called the doctor's office, the earliest I could get in was the end of October. When I told him what I had, he told me to come in tomorrow. As far as it being something, it's probably nothing. Atleast that's what we're going with from here.

The food at the university is both shitty and expensive, except for the pizza. The pizza is expensive, but atleast it's worth the money. We nailed our music presentation this morning. Apparently he's a tough nut to crack, but he told us that he enjoyed it immensely. I can't wait to be a teacher. It's in me.

Bite off more than you can chew, then chew it

Ella Williams

A Saturday Night Wedding Dance

2006-09-24T08:10:00.000-08:00

I went to a wedding dance last night where I knew neither the bride nor the groom. I knew most everyone else there, but not, you know, the people that the dance was actually about. I two-stepped with the father-of-the-bride for most of the evening. He's 79 and had just lost his wife of 60 years in July, so it was an emotional evening. He told me that he knew my grandmother on my mother's side and he smiled when he told me that she was a beautiful dancer, and that with practice, I would get there too. He said he liked my smile and told me that I felt good in his arms... I was a strong girl that could handle a lot and he said that was important to a man to find in a woman. He said I was a good woman to find. He told his granddaughter to move out of the way because we were coming through.

I checked the mail for the first time all week and found a little something waiting for me. It had been such a hectic week that I really did put Peter on the backburner... not listening or talking like I usually do. But he didn't mind. And he sent me a white-gold chain with a diamond encrusted heart pendant along with a card that had Mickey and Minnie on it. The top of it said Still Do? When you opened it up, Mickey and Minnie moved together and kissed and it said Me Too. Happy Anniversary. Our first anniversary. How cool is that?

2006-09-19T16:22:00.000-08:00

It's been a good day and the evening is progressing nicely. I didn't get near accomplished what I had intended or hoped, but I suppose all is not loss since one foot is still moving in front of the other. My aunt and I had an interesting conversation last night which left me with much food for thought today. She just turned 68 in June and you could very easily place her in her late 50's / early 60's. She's stunningly beautiful and more days than not, I fully believe that she will live forever. She too is a bit of a which doctor and relies on various flowers in the forms of oil, mixed with other various vinegars, and uses rosewater for sunscreen. She randomly takes off to countries which probably aren't the most safe for a woman of her age to be travelling in, as was her recent sojourn to Israel. But she gives me a silly look that scrunches her forehead and says now Andrea, what good is it going to do me or anyone around me if I slow down and don't do what I like? I had to agree. I think she sleeps in Tupperware because she really is ageless and timeless. Anyways, back to our conversation last night. Out of the blue she said Andrea, are you pregnant? I wasn't entirely certain where this had come from, since it was our first real conversation that didn't involve phone tag since I arrived back in the province. So I figured a direct question deserved a direct answer. I'm not sure.

And then she said something that caught me off guard. Talk to your baby and don't be afraid. Whatever will happen will happen. But I'm really not sure that I may be in the family way *insert eye roll*. It doesn't matter she said. Talk to your body and your body will listen. Robert Redford was the Horse Whisperer. My Aunt Clara is the Body Talker.

As I have shared before, my family is not normal. Not freaky, holy-is-that-allowed-in-public kind of bizarre, but a real mix of... individuals. They broke the mold after us. On both sides of the gene pool. We're not a lot of trifle with minor aches or pains, or even really large catastrophes. You take what you're dealt and either make it work for you, or change something so that it comes together. My aunt is a strong Christian lady who has had a vibrant road to redemption. She sits in her chair, reading her bible and communing with God on a hourly and daily basis. She is being His friend and asking Him questions. That's always intrigued me. She doesn't just accept anything as anything. She seeks the meat of it, not the gristle. I've always been impressed by that because for a long time I never got passed gristle.

I had dinner with mom and dad tonight. Dad had finished getting the wood for winter and he was pooped. When we sat down at the table, mom asked him if he wanted to pray and he said no. He was too tired. And I was hit by the two dichotamies that were present in my father's life. His sister did as she pleased and chatted with God. Dad had been faithful and quiet, always listening and never questioning. And he was too tired to talk anymore.

My heart hurt for him because I understood where he was standing. It's a hard thing to lay down your life in what you believe to know as truth to only find that it leaves you tired. I often find myself wondering if God is waiting until we're all mad, having completely lost our minds in return for a salvation that is leaving us exhausted here on earth.

I talked to my body last night before I went to bed and found myself doing it throughout the day. We may actually come to an agreement on something, acknowledging that we'll take whatever comes. I hugged my dad for a long time because I think it was one of those days where the only time he wasn't falling down was when he was getting up. I believe God and His grace... I'm just questioning the magnitude of the cost.

'Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed' was the ninth beatitude.

Alexander Pope

The Countdown

2006-09-18T15:43:00.000-08:00

It's election time here in on the east coast. Steve says that we are entering the Dead Heat. Apparently the Liberals may get in. Apparently Lord may not even get his local riding. It's all very exciting. I hope to goodness that if Graham gets in he doesn't blow it to hell.

My period's still late. Getting close to my second month lacking. A friend of mine is pregnant. Apparently she got four negatives and then a faint positive. I may have to book a doctor's appointment.

wowzers.

2006-09-15T17:43:00.000-08:00

Today I joined the Y. I haven't had a gym membership in years and I'm excited about everything it offers. It will be a good step forward and a smart move heading into the fall. I also ate a shrimp ring the other night, believing that I was in love with shrimp. What I discovered while eating the shrimp ring was that it was actually the sauce that I was all about.

"Be mysterious, I told myself. I'd been going after that laughing-on-the-outside, crying-on-the-inside look for a while. It all had to do with the eyes and the mouth and certain pauses in your speech. It's kind of tragic and romantic. I wasn't very good at it but I liked the bullshit bravado of it, you know, the effort of trying to cover something up and show it at the same time."

Nomi

Lessons

2006-09-14T17:36:00.000-08:00

I have recently learned some valuable lessons - ones I will take with me and hold on to as much as possible. I have learned that while having an engaging conversation with my boyfriend, who is 3,000 miles away from home and isn't wild about it, but is doing it because it helps us both and affords us much, that said engaging conversation quickly ends when I stop and say, Oh by the way, I'm three weeks late and am going to do a pregnancy test.

I have learned that things go very quiet, very quickly. To the point where I find myself saying, Peter? You there? Quiet to the point that I can't even hear him breath.

I have learned that particular brand of quiet makes me really catch a glimpse of the enormity of the statement that I just put forth. I have learned that the phrase Holy Mother Fucker is a very appropriate statement.

My past has seen less-than-a-handful of these little Detectors of Life, one being positive (miscarried 5 years ago), 2 being negative and completed (one in the bathroom stall at McDonalds on my lunch break - Remember that G??) for simple peace of mind. This one was a concern. In fact, this was huge. This was Holy Mother Fucker huge. This time we had our ducks in a row for all systems go. This time we were ready in a very not ready sort of way. I was a little panicky over this one... so panicky that I actually didn't say anything to anyone (Kiki and Gia) and I'm usually not great at keeping my mouth shut. In fact, I'm never good at keeping my mouth shut.

Isn't is funny (interesting, not haha) that as soon as you begin to suspect your own pending motherhood (or someone's close to you) that you begin to see pregnant women or brand new mothers everywhere. Everywhere. Like single-celled bacteria that live in the air we breath. Everywhere.

So as the silence stretched between Peter and I, I said the obvious: are you there? Yeah. Not a Yes. Not a Yep. A Ye-ah where the ending is more an exhalation. Ok. Could you help me out here? Throw me a bone or something. I was really tempted to make a bad joke right here along the lines of throwing me "the bone" got us into this in the first place. Wink wink, nudge nudge. Ye-ah. Totally inappropriate. Looks like I won't be buying the new truck this spring. Well you could buy the truck, you probably should buy the truck because in five years we may not be able to afford it. How are you going to finish school? We'll manage. Somehow. Wow. All of a sudden there is WAY more to think about. Like instead of two, there's three.

I just finished about 2 1/2 hours of homework and I'm pooped, exhausted the whole way around. I bought some new shoes to distract myself (we'll not talk about the spending diet right now), but they're really cute and were 70% off. Both pairs. Both pairs are really cute.

Peter just called, asked me how I was doing, how my day was, yaddy yaddy yaddy. I asked him how he felt about a new truck and he said, new truck, new baby, either would be good. And once again, with crystal clarity, I am aware in the utmost way, I know exactly why I am head over heals in love with this man.

I told him it was ok to go buy the truck because there will be no baby this time. I think it was healthy mixture of sadness and relief, but if it had turned out any other way we would have been ecstatic. Life's funny like that.

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.

Anais Nin

2006-09-13T17:25:00.000-08:00

Outside smells like cows, cut hay, and decay. To say what it actually smells like is slightly grusome... but to actually smell it is, well, lovely. It smells like fall and fall is my favourite time of year. There's just something about hot days and cool nights that satisfies me right to my toes, that, and we live in one of the most beautiful parts of the country for fall to take place in. I'm content in a whole lot of ways.

School is under way and I think it's the first time ever that I'm not feeling inundated and behind the eight ball from the get-go. Or maybe it's the first time that I really understand that I'm not going it alone... like a safety in numbers kind of thing.

2006-09-11T18:37:00.000-08:00

I have a mouse. I can't say that I'm ecstatic about this development.

Nope. Not ecstatic at all.