The best mess.....

This time of year gets pretty messy...   The house gets turned upside down looking for paper or tape or tags from the stash; the kitchen cupboards get shuffled through checking on what's in storage and whether or not there is enough for this and that; the furniture gets moved around and the resulting messes that were unnoticed and forgotten add to the list of "things to do when I have time"... and then all the time is up and I'm left either too tired to do anything or I have to move onto things that HAVE to be done NOW!  Like WORK!  It's a totally new experience for me and it's still taking some getting used to.

I am still woefully disorganized this year.  Even taking many old customs out of my yearly equation I'm still amazed at how fast Christmas arrived!  I didn't write a letter to "all my friends and family" nor did I mail out 100  cards containing hand printed party invitations with seasonal stamps and embossed images...   there was no draping the front with lights nor did I connect power to the existing lights on the eaves of my home....  Instead of counting the days until December the 1st I was scrambling to learn my new job and memorizing codes instead of making lists....  and when December 1st came around I didn't keep track of the days but I did keep track of my hours at work (and there were a lot of them, many last minute and ALWAYS fun for me!)....

I did put up my tree, bake a few cookies and some Christmas cake, invited many friends to come and enjoy time and company here for Boxing day, and I am really looking forward to that!

But after all the rush in the last few weeks I have time to remember other times and other meals... and other family members who I am not celebrating with this year.

The last time I cooked a turkey for Christmas was on December 2009.  Newly separated and on my own for the day I had arranged with my Mom to bring dinner to her house.  I roasted a small turkey breast, made all the fixings, packed a lovely bottle of Port and brought the meal hot to her little home.  Together with my brother "R" we shared a meal, sipped our wine (Mom abstained, and I only had a little because I knew I would be driving home later) and shared our traditional carrot pudding, just the three of us.  It was a quiet and sweet memory.  And it was the last time I spent Christmas with my side of the family.

Since then I have been lucky enough to spend every Christmas with my kids...   opening gifts, sharing stories, playing games, scratching lottery tickets, enjoying the labours of other hands while I sit as a guest at table to share turkey dinner and copious desserts...   but there is no more Carrot Pudding on the menu because there are not enough people who eat it, and there is a phone number I can't call on Christmas morning to wish Mom "Merry Christmas!" any more.

Last night I worked my little job telling my customers " I will get you through as fast as I can because you have better things to be doing than standing here in the line up at Superstore on Christmas Eve.." and I smiled and took care of business until they had all gone home...   Then I wandered the store aisles putting away abandoned purchases until long after I was supposed to clock out...   and came home to a quiet home, some warm dinner, a sparkling tree, the log show on TV and the little dogs so happy to have me home.

My gifts were wrapped days ago.  There is enough glitter and tinsel to make anyone's eyes shine... there are piles and packages and wrapped-and-ribboned boxes waiting to be loaded into my little SUV so they can go to their destination and be opened and enjoyed....    and there was is a small red-headed tornado who will be ready to tear paper and laugh and run and eat too much and be the center of the Universe for a few more hours today, because our little "boy" is big enough to "get" that this is a big day.

So the torch has been passed, and life moves forward in a sweet way.  I appreciate so much more now than I did when all the hustle and the lists took over my life.  And if there had been a way to talk to my younger self I would have said "life it too short to take all your time preparing for a single moment"...   instead I would have counseled myself to enjoy every single moment and prepare yourself instead of your surroundings"....    it also makes me realize that all the stuff around me that at times seems anonymous stuff is actually MY stuff!  That's a pretty empowering feeling as well!  Because if I don't take control of my own stuff I'll be so out of control that life and all it's small moments will speed past me and I will still be sitting at home every night on a quiet evening, watching something simple on the television, puttering aimlessly, and there will be no voices except my own.

And even though I have finally learned to enjoy my alone time and my privacy there are still times when it would be so good to hear voices laughing, the noises of presents being torn open, the comforting familiarity of the music and the closeness...  watch the food disappearing from bowls and plates, hear the quiet enjoyment from satisfied and well fed family...   and to have to clean up the mess one more time ...   because the very best mess is the one that you create with love and joy, the torn papers, the dirty dishes, the ribbons stuffed down the sides of the couch...  furniture askew from being pulled closer to bring us all together...  and just being together.

And until the next time I will be cuddled quietly on my couch with several little doggie and kitty eyes watching me, a warm blanket, a fine cup of (decaffeinated) tea, perhaps a book on my lap or a movie on my television screen, and always a smile on my face... 

Merry Christmas... Happy New Year... and may all your messes be ones made with joy and love...

how I spent my 13 hour vacation.....

September... my favorite time of the year.  The bluest skies, the sweetest days, the beginning of fall with the first leaves turning from green to gold ...  warm sun on your face, happy people enjoying the late summer, and warm dusks turning to cool evenings filled with stars.

What could be better?  WELL!

I got a message last week from "Ma Cousine" "K" from Rosemere and she asked what I would be doing on the 11th of September...   As luck would have it I had the entire day off, a full tank of gas, a good pair of runners and a need to break the routine my life has become and live in the moment for a little while.  It was her first - and perhaps her last - trip to Vancouver, so she was hoping we would finally get a chance to meet and talk in "real time" instead of over the internet.

We agreed to meet at her hotel; we exchanged private messages over Facebook, traded phone numbers, I got directions and messaged her to meet me in the White Spot on the ground floor.  I was so excited I could hardly sleep the night before and tossed and turned in my bed until WELL after 4:30 in the morning, but still awoke at about 8 a.m. feeling like a kid on Christmas morning.  Up, showered, dressed, a quick morning phone call to my bestest friend "L", dogs fed, watered and sent out for their "business", pee pads down (JUST in case) and the SUV ready for the road.  I left in plenty of time not knowing if road construction would slow me down... and made it into town in RECORD time!

Did you know?  City parking meters don't take nickels any more?????  I ended up plunking a couple in before I realized, and had to plug the SOB with my "larger coins".  Had to laugh thinking how the meter collector would be filling up their pouches with dimes!  I literally skipped across the street and stepped into the restaurant, saying "for two, and my cousin will be joining me"...  with the biggest smile on my face.

And then, there she was!  Smiles, laughter, massive hugs and chatter, and ( really!) misty eyes on BOTH of us.  Chatter, catching up, ordering a quick breakfast (yes, I had dessert FIRST) we started on an impulsive itinerary  that would make for an incredible day, starting with a drive to Stanley Park!  I pointed out landmarks, gave a running commentary on some of the buildings and "K" took pictures out the SUV window to capture as much as she could.  We went past the Fairmont Vancouver and down Georgia street, taking the "long road" around the park... past Lost Lagoon, Coal Harbour, the Yacht Club, Rowing Club and the Naval Base "HMS Discovery, a quick glance at the Totem poles that have been moved from Prospect Point to the area of Brockton oval, taking the slowest pace, past the draft horses pulling wagons full of tourists, leap frogging with the scenic buses...   Brockton point was our first quick stop, and "K" photographed the shipping barges in the Burrard Inlet as they blew their horns travelling West, to stay at anchor in English Bay just offshore from Spanish Banks and Locarno Beach.

I was able to point out landmarks and works of art; statues of Lord Byron, Lord Stanley; the "Girl in a Wet Suit" just off the seawall near Lumberman's Arch; the hairpin turns climbing beside the Lions Gate Bridge Causeway; and the little overpass just before Prospect Point.  We parked, laughed some more, chatted about our children, our favorite snacks, the view, the size of the trees, and the two of us walked down the hill to stand on the overpass and photograph the bridge, the two sentinel lions watching the oncoming traffic with their cement faces impassive.  Back up the hill and into the gift shop to troll for the perfect postcards, and out to the actual Point for one of the most spectacular views in the world!

We resumed our "adventure", touring further down the hill and turning into the points of interest on the way; Prospect Point Picnic Area has been devastated by the storms of 2006 and will never be the same, but the Hollow Tree still stands and now we have a photo of the two of us, arms around one another, silly smiles, and genuine happiness on our faces.  Further down the road to Third Beach and past the Pauline Johnson memorial.  We again parked and bounced to the beach, walking over the sand to smell the ocean water, touch the seaweed washed up at the shoreline, pick through barnacles, mussel shells and clamshell fragments, overturning a couple of rocks (yes, I couldn't resist just ONE more time searching for little crabs!) then stopping to watch a cluster of seagulls before climbing the stairs.

Past the Teahouse, Ceperly Park and Lost Lagoon, I turned the SUV back onto the central road and parked in the Miniature Train lot, and the two of us walked to Stanley's Park Grill for lunch in the shade of the specimen trees on the patio.  "K" wanted photos of the Pavilion and I literally took time to smell the flowers and toss my last "lucky" penny into the pond surrounding a gunnera in a raised pot, watching a large dragonfly hover over the ripples then dart away, and making a "wish"...  we walked, still chattering and laughing, to the rose gardens with their last blooms fading.  Still fragrant, last clusters of petals still clinging, and both of us taking in the perfume of a last warm summer day with deep breaths... and tasting the rose's fragrance on our tongues.  A jog across the road, beneath the arbours, past the ginko, lilac, yew and close enough to the Vancouver Mounted Police stables to mix the smell of fresh horse manure with the roses.  Then back to the car and back into the city.

Down Georgia street once more, the black glass of the Toronto Dominion tower showing the reflection of the Fairmont Vancouver.  Further down the hill and into Gastown in a wide loop so "K" would be able to see the Gastown Steam Clock firsthand.  I remember when it was first installed back in 1977 and the trouble they had tuning the damn thing!  I looped past Harbour Center and took us East on Hastings to Main street and we poked into Chinatown, past the Dr. Sun Yat Sen gardens and turning back towards the mountains to take Hasting street all the way east... into my old neighbourhood and so into my childhood.

We took a left onto Renfrew where the skatepark at the old Hasting Exhibition grounds stands in place of the old buildings that were demolished years ago, to the juncture of Wall street and Renfrew... past new homes planted where I realized the offices for Western Gypsum and the overpass to Commissioner Road no longer exist.  I drove past the homes of childhood friends - and enemies - and stopped in front of a sign that said "Dusty Greenwell Park" to walk down and listen to the train on the rails and stand where the grain elevator stood when I was small.  Past the home I lived in until I was 12 with the rest of the family; the hawthorns in Burrard View Park looking sadly dead, the tree where my two best girlfriends and I hid and ate chips and candy nothing but a dead and still-standing skeleton, and the old "bad boys home" razed to create an off leash park for dogs and a gentle Hospice center in the midst of the park.  The tennis courts still stand, but the pool is completely dry, and I felt a passing sadness.

We drove back towards Dundas and went West to Commercial Drive... and I parked up near Gravely (with a damn PERFECT parallel parking job, I might add!) so we could stop for iced latte at Cafe Calabria and sit in the warm evening air until the sun was nearly down...  me talking non-stop with my glasses off my face when someone approached us to ask why did we pick there???  And it was an unexpected and wholly welcome Facebook "Friend"... and "L" I know you are one of my GREATEST fans! who called the "Tall Lady" to sip coffee and chatter with us...   and a stroll along both sides of the street, looking in the windows at shoes and glass bongs and second hand furniture... and getting the chance to chat with a gentleman about his lovely dog, a very large and very sweet Brindle Cane Corso who leaned against me while a petted her and made much of her....  and made me feel like a little kid again for just a moment.

Dinner took us to Nick's Spaghetti house for their wonderful pasta, followed by a single large slice of what I had assured "ma Cousine" was the PERFECT cheesecake, and TWO forks!  Then off on one of my "adventures"...  but eventually driving up Commercial and Victoria to 49th, down Main street and along 44th to Fraser so we could glance at the shops selling Saris and fabric in Little Punjabi town... and south, south, south... to Marine Drive, New Westminster past the Heritage Grill filled with people enjoying the live music and waving at the Paramount Gentleman's Club on our way, north ... North Road to Lougheed, all the while relating memories of childhood and family and past experiences, good, bad and indifferent; making wrong turns in the dark, getting lost and turning around down Fraser and back to Clark Drive... driving west and down Venables through Strathcona, the Georgia Viaduct past Rogers' Arena and BC Place Stadium with it's "crown" lit against the warm night sky... and finally turning into the drop off point back at the hotel, happy and regretful all at once, hugging one another, kissing each other's cheeks, waving madly... and then the drive home in a daze of holiday happiness, and already missing her company, her voice, her smile..

Home to small dogs, a warm shower, a cool bed; hungry cats and puppy "pee time", checking messages.. and glad.  So glad.  Glad for finding family, and for living in the moment for a day without worry.  For sharing common sorrows and common joys, for sharing stories and histories and personal secrets with one another.  And for connecting with another much loved person, even though we have been far apart in distance, realizing we have always been close to one another in caring.

A day of joy... an adventure...

Here comes the sun....

At last!  Sunshine!

Spring came late and will leave early, but the weather is finally good enough for me to work outside for extended periods!  I can sit outside in my bicycle shorts and my tank top, soaking up as much sunshine as possible, puttering and planning, and making sure the little "poop factories" are cleaned up after...

Six seasons of neglect on my part have taken a toll on my garden.  The back gates need to be rehung, the back stairs and the small landing needs replacing, the patio needs to be power washed (as does the entire exterior of the house, but I'm not looking at that just yet!), the holes in the lawn (yes, Penny still digs and now Coco has taken up the hobby!  Drats!) are getting filled over time with spent annual soil, ashes from my wood stove, composted leaves and whatever else I can find.  Not to mention that the lily pond needs to be (finally and completely) drained, with the lilies parceled up for those who would like some, the liner and original pond form sold for cash, and the hole (which has been there since 1999 when the retaining wall was built) finally filled with crushed up pool table slates, slabs of sod from the "old" rose garden and topped with crushed rock so I can use the broken slates left behind by the fleeing ex...  and smashing them with the sledgehammer to make them more portable will be a pleasure I may share with a person or two!

The wretched cherry trees are a flop with all the rain over the last few years...  dropping "immature" fruit and shriveled leaves daily.  It's a mess I just don't want to have next year, so they will be removed with my little chainsaw.  I have a "home" for the logs and they will be used to make dishware - since the wood is also organic the chips will be used to "smoke" barbequed cuts of meat by an aspiring young chef!

My sadly overgrown rose is blooming for the very last time, because when it finishes blooming next week I plan to rent myself a chipper and systematically cut and shred every damn branch!  It is covered with the most evil little thorns, overgrown and entwined in my favourite apple tree, making it difficult to even cut the lawn in that corner of the yard.  When that goes into the chipper I am also taking out any blackberry brambles as well as the thorny and fruitless plum tree in my blueberry patch.  I don't need the big, heavy machine so I will be able to drive into PoCo and wheel the smaller chipper up the ramp into the back of  "Big Blue" and get myself busy...  And when the chips are "done" I will be building a new and magnificent compost heap, and hopefully restarting my little patch of heaven where I grow the best chard and green beans ever!

This week I actually started the clean up, cutting the grass and removing the clippings, picking up the dog poop, triple bagging it (think "diaper genie" for containment and you get the drift) and tucking it into my trashcan on garbage night along with dead food from the fridge.  So it's actually gone!  The patio is slowly getting weeded, washed, cleared of furniture; Dad's old stove "ate" some greasy cardboard and a pile of old cherry wood until the coals glowed orange and the stack spat little cinders that resembled shooting stars.... and I sat in my chair, folding and tearing the cardboard into small pieces and basked in the warmth while the mosquito lantern kept the little bloodsuckers at bay... and my Penny slept at my feet, basking her doggy self at the same time.  My garden has already had friends enjoying it, little dogs over for playtime, laughter and wine, tales of travels and best of all my little Grandson playing on the patio bricks where his Mummy and his Uncles played over 20 years ago...  and it's good.

Like all jobs it needs to be done one thing at a time, in the order that makes everything go smoothly enough to keep myself rolling and keep interested in the process.  I have plans for the end of the month, so making sure my garden is "guest ready" is my priority... well, after laundry, and vacuuming, and cleaning the floors... and bathrooms... but all those mundane things can be done when the sun has gone down for the most part.  So, while the sun is out I will be letting myself soak it up like a sponge, recharging my solar battery, watching the little dogs run like maniacs with their buddy Sheldon the cat, and smiling ... a lot....  Oh, and if a friend or two drops by during the process I will take time to enjoy their company while I putter, because there is nothing nicer than having a friendly voice for company while the garden grows...  and while I heal a little more.  And I'll have a decaf no sugar and lots of cream, please!  Iced would be nice, too!

filling the holes......

I have been spending the last few months filling holes of many kinds and in many ways.  I have mentioned in the past the "hitting the wall and falling down the hole" is a good description of how depression hits me... well, I hit the proverbial wall and fell down the hole... and it was a very, very black one.

Depression sucks the life out of you.  It takes over everything and masks itself in many ways.  I don't always recognize it until I am very far gone; it doesn't happen suddenly, but slowly and stealthily.  This time it started with a loss of energy, followed by what seemed to be chronic pains that needed more and more ibuprophen (which can actually make depression worse) until even sleeping was difficult.  Crawling into my overheated waterbed and turning until the most painful muscles were against the most warmth helped.  But you still have to get up eventually because life has to keep going... whether it's work, or cleaning clothes, or taking care of my dogs I still needed to be functional, but it was minimal at best.  At it's worst I lay in bed most of the day, wearing polar fleece pajamas, wrapped in extra blankets, full of naproxin until my legs and arms bruised at the slightest pressure and was only motivated by my Daisy's latest litter of little pups...  making sure they were clean, fed, played with, socialized, and eventually sent to their forever homes with minimal fuss...  however, once they were gone I lost all the "care" I felt about just about everything.

My youngest son and his roommate gave "notice" on New Years' Eve, so I knew I had to repaint and refurbish the downstairs suite, but I just didn't care.  Finally, I went and spoke with my therapist - who is a very wise man, aside from having a great sense of humour - and I was placed on a new medication to bring me out of the depression.  So, on top of the Zopliclone for sleeping and the Citalopram for anxiety and depression I began to take Wellbutrin.  Side effects; loss of appetite (bonus, sign me up!  Lost 15 lbs pretty fast!), short term memory "fog" (oh crap, where in hell was I going with this?), large consumption of alcohol can cause seizures (no worries... ) and I had to take them in the morning or I wouldn't be able to sleep at night.  Also no coffee, tea, chocolate or caffeinated cola beverages, because caffeine consumption can cause anxiety to spiral and bring on manic episodes.

And that was the cruncher...  After being on them for about three weeks I had to head into the lawyer's office to prepare more documents for court and made the mistake of drinking tea... after all, it was my day off and what could happen?  But after three hours of picking apart the "stuff" I was going into a manic spiral.  I "found" the old me that I really don't like in those moments.  The angry person, who needs the world to know what is happening... so I medicated myself and tried to sleep... but at 3 a.m. I was still waking every 20 minutes.  I knew I needed to stay as calm as possible, because being angry and tense and full of adrenaline would have me burned out fast.

I was still shaking from the adrenaline two days later, and my daughter K went with me to court as my shield.  She is my champion and I cannot tell you how deeply grateful I am for it, because it would never be enough words in the world to express that.  And to add even more joy to that reunion she and her little family came to me a few days later and wanted to move into the suite her brother was vacating...  that moment, just that one moment, when I held her in my arms and squeezed tight while my body shook with emotion and love was worth all hard work I have done, even when I thought it could never heal those wounds, and I found some of the myriad holes in my heart were filled with a soft and fragile joy.  I wasn't even sure it was real for a long time... in my depressed state I feared that those moments I was looking forward to would be derailed by my own stupidity and foolishness.
 
However, there were other "holes" to fill as well... like the holes in the walls in the suite!  And again, foolish me, I "delved" into a single cola... sip and sip... until I was once again spiraling into mania, this time pulling an "all nighter" cleaning the suite and finishing paint.  If it hadn't been for my buddy G, who came over several times to paint and prep and work on the walls with me, I would NEVER have done as much as I did, and even then I didn't finish everything.  But the carpets were cleaned, the walls washed and painted, the floors scrubbed with tons of elbow grease... and dear gods and goddesses!  The grease behind that damn stove was enough to make me weep!

But somehow I still didn't think the medication was helping, so after being on it for just over a month I decided to stop taking it.  Within two weeks all the pains (which had been absent for the most part) were back, and I realized that my favorite cup of tea, my favorite cola, my favorite chocolate and my all time favorite Starbucks didn't taste as good as being pain free feels.  Depression and the pain that comes with it is an insidious bastard.  Like the dark spirits in recent movies it feeds on all the happiness in your soul and sucks it out of you.  I have heard many times you choose to be happy, but with depression there is a lot of short spurts of very hard won "happy" overshadowed by seemingly endless feelings of hopelessness, fear, tiredness and chronic pain.  So it was time to go back on the Wellbutrin, suffer through the caffeine withdrawal, find alternatives to "soothe" that part of me that missed my daily "cuppa" and wait until the pain faded enough so I could be functional.

So, at long last, I have found something that will fill the hole that I fall into when I get to the wall.  It's still a nasty dark hole, but it isn't so deep that I can't look up and see the stars...

And although I am a bit broke, since the weather is fine for a short while there are some holes I can fill that don't cost me anything but my time... like the holes of time I fill with all three of my children, my dear little grandson, and my very good friends, as well as the holes in the back lawn that my darling (bad little Shih Tzu) Penny has carved while digging for her "bouncy balls" in order that I may break an ankle or two for her doggy pleasure...  and like those small holes I will keep filling up the big one, building it into a strong foundation of "self" until I can "grow the lawn" over top so I never trip again.

So no more  Caffe Mocha, no more Vodka, no more Latte... and instead of Valium I have another tiny anxiety reducer for those really bad moments - and even after standing in front of a judge and swearing to tell the truth on the witness stand I didn't need them....  so it looks like, for the moment, I don't need to go anywhere but home...  where my heart is... and I say to myself and my little family... "Welcome Home"....

Stitching and bitching......

It's been a while since my last post.......   Making time for myself and the completion of my newest inspiration comes hard.  Especially since there have been a couple of times I felt like my legs were kicked out from under me. Yup, I'm going back to court again.  The pills that I was happy to wean myself from are back into my daily health regime, and at a higher strength than before.  It makes me feel a little muzzy at times, especially later in the evening.  It may take another week or so for the levels to even out enough to let me function at full capacity.

In the meantime I am reawakening my old joys and living at the  "speed of life" with my friends and family.  I have friends who drop by, days with the ladies heading out to drive just because, dropping in on friends when I can.  For the last month or so I have been having "stitch and bitch" sessions at my house.  My friend "S" has the "know how" to teach my friend "R" the basics on patchwork, and "R" brought her newly tuned up sewing machine - which has taken up semi permanent residence on my dining room table beside my machine.   We have spent hours laughing, sewing, pressing, trimming and just talking about life.  It has been so good for me.  But having the tea and the coffee on, having a few other voices in my kitchen and my sewing room with me, having music playing loud enough to make my feet tap... and having the fabric collection near at hand and ready to go makes me glad.  And "R" is happy to have produced her first quilt top.... a "jelly roll race" made from fabric I had in my stash....  and it is beautiful!

I even went for another "ladies escape" to my favorite Winery in Dewdney with four of my friends from work.  Yes, a good time WAS had by all, especially since lunch was courtesy of a recent lottery win by one of the ladies, and it was extra delicious because we shared our time!  And of course it always involves a good "bitch fest" where we all get a chance to vent about whatever is troubling us or our families... or just commiserate on life...  or laugh at life in general.



Organization is really the key;  keeping up on laundry, floors, dishes, meals. Unfortunately, the "organized" part of me is very medicated and I have a lack of that "urgent" level of anxiety that used to drive my inspiration to fever pitch and create a rather unhealthy focus on the task when it wasn't at hand. Of course taking care of the dogs and our three little puppies makes everything so much more needful when it comes to completion of tasks.  In the meantime I feel happy to sleep while I can, happy to walk in the fresh air with my little troupe of doglets, happy to walk into work every early morning with a smile on my face, happy that Christmas is coming FAST!  And happy that I can sew....   like I used to sew all those years ago, concentrating on making everything come together in a way that I have designed on my own, figured out by myself, creating something special out of a few scraps and bits, and perhaps a button or two from my collection.  My very extensive collection.....  I feel my inspiration reawakening.  The colours, graphics and gradients of colour and form are bouncing around in my brain even when I'm standing quietly at work.  I have been picking up ideas from something as simple as a well constructed handbag on a customer's arm, or a new usage for hardware from the bins in a home improvement big box store. And I'm hoping to someday pull myself along far enough to have the creative part of my life the larger part.  It may be a dream, but it's my dream.  And I don't have to remind myself too often that when I hit my stride and lock into "dream" mode I'm DAMN good at what I do! 

So here's to warm tea in the evening, the heat turned up to ease my aching muscles, a hot iron, a good stockpile of needles and thread, and good friends who want to learn.  Blessings of the Season on you, my friends....   I wish you "Joy"...  

Being thankful......

It has been the most glorious fall I can remember.  Sunshine, warm weather during the day, amazing blue skies, fresh air, the ripening of fruits on the vines and the trees, slow colour change making the fall foliage catch fire at last...  and crisp, lightly frosted nights that come early and end later, making my sleeping time sweet and peaceful.  I have so much to be thankful for, and with Thanksgiving this long weekend for us Canadians I have been taking a long look at what I have instead of what I thought I was missing. 

First, I am especially grateful that my children are all healthy, living their lives, learning new things that will carry them forward into the future... they are safe, honest, strong, loving, and finding loves of their own as adults.  I am thankful for my health... waking with pain makes you appreciate those moments when you are pain free, and getting older has shown me that pain is relative... if I can still walk, if I can still move through my day and accomplish what I want to - even if it is less than I could do even four years ago - it is still something to be grateful for....  I am thankful I still have a home to clean, a kitchen to cook in, a comfortable bed to sleep in, food in my cupboards with enough to share, a place to wash my clothes and music playing over my media center....  a lot, really... and more....

I am thankful for the strength to be able to shovel my own driveway when it snows - and also thankful I have a driveway to shovel...  that my garden gives me pleasure in it's bounty of apples and roses, that there is a place to park my car - and I am grateful I have a car as well...  Grateful my roof doesn't leak and neither does my plumbing...  the furnace keeps my home warm on cold nights, and I can keep it cool on warm days by simply opening a few windows...  I'm grateful for comfort and quiet...I am grateful for sight to take in the mundane and the magical, ears to pick up on the blowing of the wind, through the trees or the insane barking of a pack of excited dogs... music to fill my soul and allow my heart to sing....  the scents of fall with pumpkins, damp earth, leaf mold, fall fruits and woodsmoke, as well as the smells from my now busy kitchen - apple pies, butter chicken, pasta sauce, and this weekend the full blown smells of turkey dinner with all the trimmings....  I am grateful for the ability to touch and learn the textures of my world... to taste the layers of flavour in everything right down to the waxy aroma of lavender scented candles I use to freshen my home. I am grateful for art in all it's forms because it livens my soul and connects me to the rest of the world.

I am grateful for my own well being;  I have my pets to care for, and their gratitude is immense.  I have a job that I still love, and although the hours aren't plentiful and neither is the money I still have just enough to get by on month to month.  My bills are paid, my finances are under control.  I am grateful for my emotional health and the strength to maintain it.  I am especially grateful for finding professional help that led me to the right choices to keep myself strong - and for the medication that works on my chemistry in a way that makes every day joyful instead of dreadful. 

I am truly grateful for friends; those who I have known for a long time, those I have had in my life always, those I have reconnected with in the last while, and those who are new in my circle and who make their diverse personalities part of the patchwork of my life.  I am grateful for friends who just laugh... They say that the best cure for most things is a nap and a good, long laugh....  and yes, I wholeheartedly agree!  That is the most important thing I am grateful for... laughter...  It heals all hurts, makes life lighter, cures ills, brings youth to weary faces...  and makes us all connected for those instants while laughter is shared.

So here's to all those I love this long weekend!  May your time be filled with the simple pleasures of family, good friends, good health, good food and laughter.....  and if you need one you could always have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go.....    Bring me a tea while you're there, all right?  There is pie in the kitchen when you drop by....

Growing pains.....

Time is allowing me to heal;  it has been just over three years and I am able to talk about some of what happened without it hurting.  Not to say that I don't feel anything, but the overwhelming taste of being betrayed has faded.  There is a difference between the realization that what has happened needs to be moved past and allowed to become unimportant, and the internal acceptance of myself BEING someone who is moving past it.

I could not possibly envision the person I am now;  strong, capable, engaged in what I do, living in the "now", taking care of myself in a way that is healthy...  and without the anxiety and depression that has dogged me since that car accident all those years ago.....  I feel an internal change in me, as if I am growing too large for my current life and I have an overwhelming urge to climb beyond what I am.  I have jokingly said to my colleagues that our workplace was a haven for the weak and the lame... and that I freely admitted I am lame....    because all the "go getters" got out.  But I no longer feel lame.  And although I still love my little job I know I want better, I can do better, and it's time to find a better way in life.

I want more in my life, and more from my life than my current situation will allow.  So it's time to find a new direction and I hope that the next few months will start me on the way.  In the meantime I am taking myself out of my comfort zone once more and heading out into the world on the "trip of a lifetime"... loading up my little dogs and my creature comforts, gassing up the Pathfinder, powering up the electronics, heading North... North to see a dear friend from a long time ago.... where we two girls will do those things we did together before marriage and heartbreak made our lives different; when a meal was shared with parents, make up was tried on, music was shared, there was a lot of laughter and play and fun... baseball in the summer, long walks in the fall, taking the time to visit with each other and even shield each other from the darker parts of our lives....  We are looking forward to playing with the dogs, cooking, laughing, shopping, meeting friends... and she has promised to take me to the Rodeo on a hot September Sunday so the two of us can enjoy life and simple pleasures....  and perhaps if I'm really lucky we will go to the Hoedown on a Saturday night... the way we went together when we were both only 14.... and we danced until they sent us home....

Perhaps the two of us will sit outside on a clear night with her husband and we will look at the stars in the sky...  and I will perhaps envy their "couple-ness",  But she cannot imagine how happy I am that they have found one another.  A perfect match.  I have watched them in public gently poke at one another without malice - comments loaded with love and understanding and compassion for one another.  I have been almost envious of their bond.  They both work hard for what they have, and are content with each other.  She is a sweet and sensitive soul, always soft and kind and caring; he is a strong and centered man who would be capable of living alone, but chooses to share his life with her... soul mates as far as that goes. She has allowed his heart to find a home, and he protects her so she walks through the world safe.  And I realize that is what has been missing in my life; the respect for one another as individuals that allows both to remain the same, yet makes for a greater and more wonderful whole - the true meaning of "home".

She is such a smart and intuitive individual now that we are all grown.  I am proud and happy to call her my friend.  She keeps telling me not to worry, that there is someone in the world for me... I just have to stop worrying about it and let it be.  But for now, I know that I am better being strong and single.  Not that I am so focused on my goals that I wouldn't have time for another person in my life, but knowing that I will be healthier allowing myself to achieve what I am working towards and THEN, just maybe, being able to let someone else into the life I am building...  or perhaps not. I will deal with that when opportunity (and probably a great deal of luck) presents me with a possibility.  I remain hopeful, but I am not waiting for that to happen to get on with my life, such as it is.  This time, instead of racing headlong into the world I am strolling at a better pace, catching the scenery as I move through my life, stopping to literally smell the roses and admire their beauty.  The connections I have made with old friends has refreshed me and given me joy.  The time I have spent with new friends gives me connections to the world that I had never envisioned three years ago.  And my newfound respect and love for myself (yes, finally!) has given me purpose, freedom, and peace.  Such a peace I have never known existed outside of all those books I read when I was young and green.  I have the world to embrace and it feels good.... who knows what the next part will bring?  I'm sure it will be all good!  And, in the meantime, I'll skip the caffe mocha vodka valium latte and stick to my regular medication and a good night's sleep..... surrounded by my little dogs and my hopes for good things to come....

Puppy launching....

It is the final stage of my most difficult and important part when raising a litter of puppies....  letting them go on.  So many people have asked me "it must be so hard to let them go when you love them so much..." but I realize how needful and important it is by just one thing.  The right person ALWAYS comes for the puppy.  And when the pup and their forever human set eyes on one another it's never how you expect it to be, seldom the pairing you would predict, but it always feels absolutely and totally "right" when they do.  I watch them fall in love with one another for the very first time - no matter the age of the new owner, no matter how long the puppy has been with me, no matter if it's a whole family or just a single person looking to have one more small life to care for and make theirs complete, it is an inevitable as the rising of the sun and the falling of rain... a force of nature that tempers the sadness and loss I feel with the joy of knowing they go to the very best home...

Luke began to know his family early on in the game.  Little "A" came for regular visits with her mom to handle him, feed him his gruel, fold him in a blanket and tuck him into her arms... and now he has segued into his new life with very little difficulty....He is a private eater, preferring to "gnosh" on his crunchie kibble while the family is away at work and school, but he is a good little man, learning some fun puppy tricks, sleeping in the family bed (and he takes turns so that when "A" has family visits he still has an anchor to keep him secure.).  I truly hope he will help bring that lovely little girl with her heart full of sunshine out into the world and be a key to her having a great connection to fun things through him.... like training classes, agility classes, or even having him trained early on as a "visiting companion" for the hospitals and the hospices.  Or just go the park and play "fetch"!

Reba left in a whirlwind!  The whole family came to choose from the available pups, but when "B" held Reba it was that odd mix... the puppy I thought was the sweetest natured of the bunch was recognized for her loving temperament and calm demeanor...  and promptly feel asleep in her new girl's arms.  Lily was whisked home to Surrey and I lost my best "TV buddy"...

The next to leave was Garth.  A truly handsome fellow with great photogenic potential and a quirky and fun loving nature, Garth was scooped in the few minutes between me dressing for work and having to clock in...  He has been placed in the arms of a wonderful extended family to be a comfort to "T"'s Mom after illness, and also to give her a new love after the loss of her long term Shih Tzu companion last winter.  Mr. "Schnuffle" now shares his life with a family who reaches out to others, and he is much loved by all.

Willie was the "dark horse" of the group!  A wonderful family drove all the way from Whistler BC to make sure he was the "one", and left within the hour holding "Mambo" in their laps!  He was so happy to meet his very own boy but I was able to have a last, long goodbye hug from my "big" puppy.  His family includes a mini Schnauzer - aptly named "Schnauzie" - and since Mambo has the best "other dog" relations it is a perfect match!

Little Dolly had a couple of false starts, but finally "J" saw her picture and knew this was the puppy for her home.  "Daisy" has gone to live in Osoyoos near the Smitty's where she shares her family with Pepper the Shih Tzu.  Hopefully she will be able to join agility training with Pepper soon, so they will have years of running, jumping and fresh air together, and lots of love for their people as well.

And now, at last, Faith will be going home to Ladysmith.  She has gone from being one of a pack to "just one".  Her sweet little face and wagging tail will be sorely missed, but not so much by the other dogs.  Sheldon has acquired a real attachment to her, though - sharing the basket together on the bedroom floor has been a nightly occurrence for the last week. She can climb up and down the stairs, loves to jump and fetch, eats her dinner nicely, sleeps happily, and loves to cuddle and give puppy kisses... and tomorrow I have to say "goodbye".

I must admit I won't miss the "puppy paper" all over the place, nor the smell of the trash on garbage day!  I will miss the expectant little eyes at the top of the stairs, the silliness of "skiing" through the pack to open the back door for the big dogs after work, and sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor while a pack of "carpet sharks" tugs on my pant legs and shoe laces...  The playpen will be cleaned, sterilized and stored until (and if) another litter arrives in the future.  I will go back to regular life, cutting the lawn, scooping poop outside, getting the swimming pool ready for summer... and missing each individual, but I hope to have the occasional "visit" from one or two of them through the next year or so. 

To all the families who "adopted" these little treasures I give a heartfelt "Thank You!"...  They are truly full to the brim with love for you.  You are the right person for your puppy, and they are the perfect puppy for you!  I will keep spoiling their "Big Dog" family as long as they are with me... and if you need us, just call. 

Now it's back to regular chores, what looks like a sunny summer at last, and the peace of my garden.... somehow I don't think I need a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go at the moment, but there is always one when I need it... ah.....  mission accomplished.....

Drunken sailors....

Once again I have the playpen set up in the living room and once again I have a small furry pile of puppies to love.  Dear little Penny gave birth early on a Monday morning - about two hours after I came home from work - and presented me with six hamster sized babies to love for a while.  I had been waiting for them rather unsure what to expect, but like the other two times before she had an uncomplicated delivery in the kennel next to my bed, watched over once more by her best friend, Sheldon the cat. 

I had been joking that I was going to name this bunch for "fast cars" and was bantering names like Ferrari, Bugatti, Fiat, Isuzu... but what popped out looked more like little black and white cows or brown and white horses!  "They look too 'Country' to be cars" I thought....   and asked a group of friends for the names of their favorite Country Music stars instead.  I have two black and white boys - Luke (Bryan) and Willie (Nelson), one brown and white boy - Garth (Brooks), two brown and white girls - Reba (McIntyre) and Dolly (Parton) - and of course the little black and white girl is Faith (Hill). I have spent nearly a month now coddling my littlest "Stars" and thoroughly enjoying the process!

There are lots to do when you have small puppies... mostly lots of laundry!  I have worn out nearly every towel I own, as well as a number of blankets and face cloths, but the pups are past the first helpless weeks and on into the next phases... the "drunken sailor" phase where their little round bodies are too big for their tiny legs and they stagger and roll, playing with one another while chirping like Tribbles.  I hear their tiny mock growls and it makes me laugh because Penny used to do the same when she was tiny.  One tiny paw lifts.. and the whole puppy falls over!  Daisy has been attempting to sneak into the pen and lap up the puppy gruel, and Penny will leap over the side to snarf it down if I don't stand (or in my case, crouch) beside the pen while spoon-feeding the little ones.  They know my voice, recognize that my hands will rub all the spots that need it, gum with their little toothless mouths on the edge of their dinner plate; they lie passive and comfortable in my open hands, their little faces looking up at me while I giggle and smile at them; they enjoy their warm baths in the sink, wrapped afterwards in a soft washcloth and rolled like a "puppy sausage roll" to lay on the heated bedding afterwards.  I am in awe of the way of nature, that even before they can hear or stand they will struggle out of their bedding to pee on the newspaper I have surrounding their warm nest.

Even though they are less than a month old I have been spoon-feeding them since their eyes opened to give Penny a healthier time, and I am proud to say it was worth it!  She is still keeping them clean, feeding them throughout the day, but she comes to sleep with me on the bed at night, tired out and ready for a break from "Mommydom".  On Sunday afternoon I will dress her in the first "weaning shirt", move the little pack into the kitchen with a water dish and lots of newspaper, and photograph each pup.  Although I already have homes for two - Faith will go live in Ladysmith where she will become a spoiled little "boat dog" to a family who was "prescreened" and Luke will be keeping part of his name and going  to be best friends to a little girl with big blue eyes, a shy smile, and a heart as sweet as summertime.

I am doing my best to give them a healthy life; they are clean, fed, socialized with their Mom, Uncle Folly, Aunty Daisy and their big Sister, Molly from next door.  Sheldon the cat will still stroll through and check them over, but is mostly uninterested for the moment as they are too boring to be fun for a big cat like him, and Xena... well, she's just Xena...  They are learning to play with toys, explore their environment, try new things, they are handled throughout the day, and I have had friends over to handle them so they are used to people, especially kids! I hope for good weather soon so they can come outside in their "puppy pen" and learn about grass, toddle in the yard, and charge up their little "solar batteries" in a patch of sunshine while I putter in the garden.  And I know that soon they will go to their "forever" homes, with their only purpose in life to be companions... small dogs with a big job!

When they do leave it will be too soon for me, but their new families deserve to enjoy some of their "toddler time" and fall in love.  They will be taking a piece of my heart with each of them, full to the brim with love for their new families... and I will miss them.  I hope their new families keep in touch...  but for now it's sunny days on the patio bricks, puppy paper in every room of the house, toys and freshly washed blankets in all the corners... and I'll have a cafe mocha vodka valium latte... to go.....  ah... spring....

Made by hand....

When does something become more than just a hobby?  At what point in the creation process does a project or an urge to create turn from a private moment in time to a work of art?  I was lucky enough to follow that process recently with a friend in my quilting group.

Leona Harden lost her son 10 years ago to Schizophrenia.  Yes, the big "elephant" in the middle of the room.  The side of many that is struggled against daily, that sadly some become too fooled by the lies their brain tells them to continue the struggle and decide that life is not enough.  It takes a long, long time for those who love to get past that...  all the levels of grieving, all the guilt and "what ifs", and the helpless feelings that keep them "stuck" in that moment.

Leona's son was a young artist attending college in the USA.  A promising talent, Alex also had a love of drawing, and was known throughout his circle for his insight into the process.  His death at 21 left a huge hole nothing else could ever fill.  But it's what we do when that hole needs filling that becomes the memorial to a young life gone too soon.  Leona took a concept she had been thinking of for a very long time, and with her talents as a textile artist and her ability to "think outside the box" she has created an amazing tribute to her son, and a piece of art that I hope will raise awareness among the young.. that sometimes when we are at our darkest there are still those who WILL catch us when we fall.

This amazing wall quilt was constructed using photographs and imagery that Leona compiled into a dream of love to fill that hole... literally.  Some of these tiny applique pieces are only 1/4 of an inch in size, and they have been painstakingly laid over one another, then overstitched with threads to give the entire piece movement and life.  She posted photos of the process and shared the development and techniques freely with our online group of quilters.  It was a privilege to watch, and an honor to be a part of the process.  We were all encouraged to give constructive feedback, asked how we felt about colour choices, layout, textures, fabric choices...  we all were given a chance to cheer with each successful stage completed, and learn from any "mistakes"; yes, Leona ripped stitches and changed things as she went, like most of us do when we are working on our textile art.

This is NOT your average quilt.  It's finished dimensions are about 100 inches in width and 60 inches in height.  It is meant to be a piece of art, as well as a window into the love a mother bears her son...  This beautiful creation has now been shared with the world.  "For Alex - Love Mom" has won "Best In Show" and has now been featured in a local quilting program in Leona's home State of Tennessee.  The best news so far has been a request for Leona to bring her work to the college where her son attended, to display the art, lecture on the technique, and bring awareness of Schizophrenia to the other young people attending the college.

Art is ephemeral;  nothing is forever, and while it exists if it isn't shared with the world it is wasted.  In the same vein, each one of us is also a work of art.  We are not here forever, and the only immortality we have are the memories we leave and the lives we touch.  Share your talent with the world; share your thoughts, your gifts, your strengths... sing, paint, sew, build, make music, exchange ideas and ideals, grasp the hand of the person beside you and lift them up with you.  And realize that art is created by us and for us, and that not everyone has to like us, but as long as we love ourselves and do what we love it doesn't really matter what the world thinks of our art... after all, it's all great or it's all crap, depending on the place where the viewer is coming from, and that's okay.

Sew.... I'm back in the studio, creating some more art...  I'm happy to get feedback, ready to rip out a few stitches and start parts of it over until I get it right, just like I can do that now with myself.  Yes, nothing is perfect, but it's those imperfections that others see that give art it's life, and make life into art...   so I can think "outside the box"... but that's enough philosophy for now, it's back to puppies and laundry before I get to play, and in the meantime I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go...

Standing solid like a stone....

There seems to be a common theme to my life at the moment.  Endure.  When something happens that would have upset my equilibrium where, in the past, I would have been knocked sideways now I am learning to stand solid and endure the waves.  Not in a "what can't be cured must be endured" kind of way, not as a martyr who stands and shudders as the lash strikes, but in a simpler way...  more like making the upset not so much of a priority, and not making someone else's emergency create chaos.  Like a stone that water washes over, I am learning slowly that the water won't hurt me and I don't have to allow the flooding to affect my mood, my actions, my life.  That isn't to say that I am always unaffected.  When it comes to those I care for I am able to take actions for the good to make sure I have done the right thing at the time.  Starting small and working towards having that reaction every time has made me feel more centered.  I understand more now who I am and what I need for myself.  I also understand that I have a hard, focused part of my personality that I can allow to override my fears so I can act instead of react. 

There have been a few bites of chaos in my otherwise quiet and rather peaceful life.  My dear baby brother "R" had a mini stroke;  he was worried for me and sent me a message so I would know where he was and what had happened.  I left work.  Simple as that.   Where before I would have been frozen with being unable to make a decision I told my employer "I have a family emergency", locked most of the place up tight and went where I needed to be.   He was sitting alone in Emergency and uncomfortable in the nasty bed...  not a fun gig, to be sure.  But his condition was stable and he was incredibly glad to see me.  I stayed at his side until he was ready to finally get some sleep and drove home again.  It felt right for the first time in a long time, acting the way I needed to instead of the way someone else thought I was supposed to.

Then work; one of my regular customers had a terrible fall and I was first on the scene.  Dear God, I have never seen so much blood.....  the poor lady was laying on the floor unconscious and had split her head open on a fixture.  I acted by rote; call the "code", put pressure on the wound, supporting her head, get a customer to call 911 and wait.  I was joined quickly by other staff, but I could not let up the pressure on the gash in her forehead, and I needed to keep her on her side as her nose was also bleeding and I needed to keep her airways clear.  I'm so glad I always wear those little black gloves, and I had used so much paper towel for the compress that it didn't bleed through....  tossed the gloves and sanigel'd my hands up the wazoo afterwards!   And for the first time I felt what pure, clean adrenaline really feels like!  Not the sick manic feeling of being out of control and pulled behind a runaway horse, but with a firm hand on the reins, giving me the strength and focus I needed during a crisis without the horrible after-feeling that comes with not acting... and the ability to absorb the shock without burying it later or allowing it to continue to echo through me. 

There is no jitteryness, no aimless wandering, no inability to focus.  I just "am".  Calm.  It feels like peace.

I laughed the other day when a coworker told me they were worried that confrontation with another staff member would restrict their hours... and I told them "suck it up, smile, be courteous... it makes them crazy when you don't react..."...  and it's something I said with a big smile on my face and a chuckle in my voice.  Because I know from personal experience that when you fake that until you feel it, eventually it all calms down and smooths out, like the ripples on water when you drop a stone into it.  The stone is still a stone, it's the water that is moving.  Now I get to carry that peace with me.  It flows from me and is attracting those who need it.  No judgement.  No aggression.  No anger.  No more open, wounded feeling.  Just daily acceptance that the world is where it needs to be and so am I.

Now I'm going to enjoy a few days off and take care of myself... a little rest, a little time with friends, a little creativity and a lot of peace.  Well, I somehow don't seem to need that caffe mocha vodka valium latte....  and I'm not going anywhere....  

One step up at a time...

I am again stepping into the storm and trying to steer my way out without floundering. Living life in a normal way has not been normal for me.  Giving myself permission after waiting for it elsewhere is so new that I second guess myself a lot of the time.  I get myself caught in small details instead of keeping my head down and concentrating on one thing at a time.  But it's spring, and really time for spring cleaning at last.  That includes airing out my head, as well as my house! I have embraced the idea that taking care every day and keeping my home maintained will do more for me than all the soul searching and "belly button" examinations I could spend time on.  Having my floors clean, the bathrooms smelling fresh, dishes done and tidied and clothing folded and put away lifts my spirits more than clinging to an illusion of company on my Facebook pages.  I have moved my sewing station back into the kitchen where I can enjoy the sound of the television blaring music while I have movies playing in the background as an illusion of company, and I am getting things done.  Meals are actually quite regular, the dogs are happy, the cats sleep in comfort on my bed and dream.


The most amazing and joyful thing in my life is my dear little Grandson!  "C" is the center of the family universe, the reason I work so hard to be normal.  I am also facing the anniversary of my Mom's passing....  I miss Mom so very much, every day.  Having my little Grandson to love now makes it so bittersweet.  Mom would have loved him and been proud of us all....  my wonderful, strong, loving daughter, my amazing sons, and me making one step after another... a bit slow at times, but still moving ahead where I can, when I can.  When I think that I "can't" I just ask myself "what would Mom do?"...  and what she would have done is take stock of what she had, make do when she could, make something out of what was on hand, and just keep going.   I have plenty to work with, I'm lucky enough to have my health, I have lots of free time to do what is needed, and I'm certainly no slouch when it comes to "invention"....  I do, however, have a problem sometimes remembering there are some things I CAN'T do.... like lift 80 lbs....  over and over... without hurting!  Or leap tall buildings at a single bound!

Truth is, I am a hoarder.  I hoard stacks of paper, memorabilia, fabric scraps, coloured egg shells, threads, cooking equipment, recipes...  for me, each piece of paper evokes a memory or a reminder of something; the broken saxophone, the blue ribbons from the fair, the last letter from Mom, the children's watercolours, envelopes from friends who have sent me things...  sometimes I use the chaos created by the piles and boxes as a distraction.  I "hide" from the rest of the world behind "to do" lists that really have nothing "to do" with everyday living but are in fact a reason to NOT go out into the world.   But I have lived too long in "dream time" and need to feel the world again.  Feel the wind in my hair, the rain on my face, sunshine, moonlight, the wonderful aliveness that I feel in the cold...There have been moments over the last couple of weeks where I felt myself drifting and unstable.  Those are the times I literally stand with my feet planted and feel the weight of my body holding me to the ground.  I am all the anchor I need right now.  No amount of self deprecation, no amount of second guessing my responses to outside stresses, and no amount of worry will change that.  Take a deep breath and keep moving.  Just because someone else thinks they want something of me doesn't mean I have to give it.  And it doesn't mean I get to give up.  Yes, the legal battles continue, and no one can take care of my business except me.  I cannot quit looking at the problem or it will escape me, but it's no longer sending me into a tailspin of anxiety.   It doesn't take up all my thoughts or all my waking hours trying to solve some problem that isn't really a problem to begin with;  it's just a difference of opinion...  and I like my opinion much better...

So it's another weekend of quiet and listening to the little dogs upstairs and the kids downstairs....  I think it's "Beer Pong" night for them and their friends... For now I'm just taking it one step at a time and leaning on my friends when it gets too much.  I think of them as  "Angels at my back" right there with my Mom at the head of the line, with her right arm around me, lifting me up, and her left hand covering my heart, shielding me from hurt.... and in the meantime, I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go... please!

Cutting ties....

It's been a hell of a year.  After a long and difficult time I have to look back at what I accomplished over the last while, where I am, how I've grown and where I need to keep improving.  Too many days I have felt like I was walking drunk; feeling unstable, my head swimming, slow to make decisions, uncomprehending what moment I was in... tired, a little dreamy, sometimes with long reaching and lasting affects...  The low times were just that;  no movement, no change, no life in me and no effect on me.  Other times meant I was risking things I shouldn't, spending too much, eating too much or not enough, spreading my energies too far and not finishing things I started...  sharp and focused, obsessive, energized, manic... not good...  Both cycles have been going full tilt for a while.  In spite of the cyclical patterns my brain fires in I have still managed to keep my job (a first for me in what has been a pattern of long standing), I have still gotten myself up every day, the dogs are still fed, watered, cleaned up after, the cats are healthy and happy, and I continue to take my medication - although the dosage has been increased for a couple of months now.  The toughest part has been letting go.  Letting go without trying to take the baggage up again is hard.  Leaving little bits of it on the side of the road as I travel hasn't cut the ties enough to keep me moving forward.

In my latest call to one of my best friends "T" talked me through to another level of understanding by letting me answer my own questions.  I realize that at the very earliest times in my life, when I was very small and first realized the universe held no boundaries, that my greatest fear has been being anchorless  and becoming lost in the chaos of that universe.  Instead of learning to put up boundaries for myself I allowed all and sundry to invade my emotional space.  I let myself become tied to people who didn't have my best interests at heart; the selfish, the self serving, the bullies, predators and those with so little self esteem they "needed" someone else to push, take from, bully, prey upon and belittle.  I emulated the worst of those traits and learned to reflect back what others felt to hide who I was from them and from myself, mirroring their traits to blend in with the rest of the herd, not show I was vulnerable.  But that made me more vulnerable instead of less...

I have begun the internal visualization of physically cutting the bonds to the terrors from my past.  I have felt for a long time that my "heart" has been wrapped with a long, tough tentacle that anchored me to those terrors, and it has taken some deep searching,  looking at the darkest parts of myself - those parts of me I never wanted to examine too closely or allow to come into my direct field of view - and bring them from the peripheral to center stage,cringing in horror at what I have been.   There has been a huge disconnect in my interface with the real world and the human condition. Uncaring, unthinking, unguided... sheeplike in following someone else's ideas to avoid making hard and healthy choices for myself.  Selfish and childish, blindly believing lies because it was easier than believing those I loved would lie to me, and so I lied to the ones I loved most and to myself as well.

The time for being something I wasn't for someone else is over...  So I have taken that scarred and gnarled "chain" that encircles the core of me and snares me in my own lies and begun to mentally "slice" through it to set myself free.  I "see" myself grasping the tough tissue that invades my "body" and cutting viciously to remove the thing from my emotional center.  In my innermost and most basic core I worry that unless I extract every cell of that "chain" it will grow back and ensnare me again like a cancer. I use whatever my mind can create to accomplish removing the poisonous link; sharp knives, razors, scissors, cutting through something that resembles the thick sinews or the tough cartilage in the bones of a large piece of meat, trying to extract all of it without destroying the core of me in the process, finally digging deeply with my own fingers to tear it from my "flesh".... and I feel those distant and unwanted ties dissipating, thinning like candle smoke from a glowing wick.

I still dream that I confront those "ties" and scream at them... why they couldn't be there when I needed them, when my children needed them after all the times I had been there when they or their children needed me... but I know those conversations are useless because they would never happen in real life, and even if I did speak those words, those I spoke to would only lie to me again and blame me for their own failures, or turn a deaf ear so they couldn't see those dark parts of themselves, or tell other people and themselves that I was just a crazy liar to discredit me and deflect their shame onto me again.  A futile and unneeded waste of energy at this point, because just as it was a year ago it is still today; not my lesson to teach, not my responsibility to rescue...

The thing is, like a baboon that throws it's own feces when angry, the only ones who smell are the ones throwing the dirt.  I just  stay far enough away to be out of range and let things be.  So let them toss their "rotten eggs" at me to no effect.  The only people who's opinion matters to me now are those who have been with me on the "rough ride" and who stuck around long enough to see it through.  Even though I haven't completely cut the bond I am close enough that I can feel myself beginning to drift, but it's not away into uncharted chaos.  I'm finally starting on my life journey and steering away from the harbour I thought was home.  I can bring all the important things with me; self esteem, self awareness, calm, balance, love... and leave the rest.  I don't have to be anchorless, I just have to untie myself from the port and head back out to ride out the rest of the storm.  And rather than worry about being broken by crashing against the dock I'll breath the fresh air and feel the joy of racing ahead of the wind...  and let the baboons fill their pants back on shore.

As of today I am lucky enough to have all my children back in my arms, knowing in myself how much I love them.  And today, as I held my daughter in my arms and hugged her tight I kissed her cheek and told her how much I loved her, and how much I miss my Mom... and how happy my Mom would be.  Soon my child will hold her own child in her arms and he will fall in love for the "first time"... and if I'm very, very lucky I will have a chance to witness the miracle that happens when he falls in love with her.  And I hope in my heart of hearts that the darkness will end with me... 

So here's a toast to you who have ridden out the storm with me, to those who I pass on my travels, to those I love, and those I have truly left behind... a pomegranate cider to celebrate Yuletide.  Next time I may need a cafe mocha valium vodka latte to go... but not this time......

Nothing like a plasma fire.....

It's December and my thoughts are streaming ahead to Christmas.  I'm listening to the "log" show and mulling my thoughts instead of wine.  I have gifts stashed away for the ones I love, plans to pick up special purchases over the next few days, thoughts in my brain about having friends over for my annual Christmas party...  The lights are ready to be flung over the shrubs out front; red for the crab apple tree, magenta for the little azalea I planted when it was small, green into the kiwi bushes and yellow for the quince tree... there are strings of blue to put around my front door once the swags of artificial fir have been stapled into place again, and I can hardly wait to put up the wreath in it's place to welcome guests to my door.

Today I purchased enough butter to make my Christmas cakes, a few cookies, perhaps some almond danish...  just enough to eat and some to share.  There are cute plastic zippy bags with Christmas gift tags on the front so you can write "to" and "from" on them, load them with goodies and pass them to friends and coworkers...  I have enough wrapping paper to outfit Santa for the season, tags and bags and tape and ribbons...  and canning jars to make Christmas pudding in, too.   I'm looking at making something large and green from boughs in my garden to place on my front porch and welcome those who visit.  I have the perfect planter in the back garden to use for it, and lots of time over the next couple of days to gather my greenery....

I love all the greenery associated with Yuletide;  fresh cut Fraser firs from a farm... oh, my....   fir boughs and ivy masses, holly sprigs and mistletoe.   Of all of them I love the holly the most.  I tried to plant holly near my front door when I first moved here over 20 years ago, but with one thing and another the plants were left dry for too long and not planted soon enough, so they died.   When the children were small I picked fresh holly with the neighbours permission and I placed it around the front door.  At the end of the season I tossed the dried sprigs under the azalea beside the  door and left them there until clean up in the spring.  And now, hidden underneath in the shelter of the big azalea shrub are a dozen small holly bushes.  Even though I have masses of ivy growing in my back garden it's the holly by my door that cheers me the most.  Holly with shiny, dark green leaves that are sharp with the prickles that make them a deterrent to small hands. I have been given to understand that growing holly is finicky.  It doesn't transplant well, grows very slowly, and needs to be cross pollinated to bear fruit - most holly purchased at the garden center has been grafted with a male branch to be sure and produce those bright red berries everyone expects.  I was always told that holly planted by your door wards trouble and brings luck.  After all that has gone on and all that was removed from my garden in the last few years I'm delighted and intrigued by the discovery I made this summer. So I have little miracle holly bushes;  such a pleasure.

I'm getting ready for another series of "firsts" this Christmas;  first time without my Mom to call or invite or tell my joys to; first time with my son back in the house, but living separately as an adult; first time since I was divorced - first time to make a turkey to share on Christmas day and ask those I love to partake...  Tonight I have made some plans for the next few days; where to shop, what to mix, when to make things, who to invite here...  and while I'm making my lists and checking them more than twice the "log" show is crackling on my 50 inch plasma screen in 720p....  no smoke, no smell, just the quiet sound of resin pockets bursting in surround sound.  I'm thinking about mulled wine, but in the meantime I'd really like a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go...  and add a stick of cinnamon ....

Making quilts...

I have always loved to sew.  My Mother put a threaded needle into my little hands when I was only two, and I remember my Aunt "B" showing me how to tie a knot into the end of the thread for the first time.  My stitches were long and crooked, but I was very proud of my first "seams".  My only problem was the thread was too short, so when I got to the edge of the cloth piece I was "making" into a blanket the sewing line puckered up and gathered the material into a bit of a bunch.  I was not pleased with the result - which says a lot when you remember how small I was.

When I was only four my Mother started to allow me to begin using the old Ford de Luxe sewing machine; a neat old electric model that had an external motor with a rubber belt on the flywheel.  She would tell me to sew "along the lines" on the lined writing paper sheets from old school notebooks, no thread, an old needle, and nimble little fingers needing something to keep me out of trouble as she chased after my toddler baby brother and awaited the birth of my youngest sister!

Mom created  the most amazing things with that machine in quick order; Hallowe'en costumes from what ever she had on hand, like burlap sacks for buckskin; coat-hanger wire to add "ribs" to a vampire cape; lace or other beautiful fabrics made over from adult sized dresses to pint sized ones for us; seams let out or taken in for a better fit.  I learned mostly that you can do what you want with fabric and you are the best judge as to whether or not you reach your goal. I would sew clothes for friends, make costumes for parties, coats for the pets, Barbie dresses... whatever I decided was good.  Then I discovered patchwork.

I realized very quickly that it was something I loved!  I actually used high school Geometry lessons in the real world to create the angles and lines that would morph into something more like art than home economics.  I made simple quilts at first for my first nieces and nephews; a puffy flannel cloud with stitched trapunto faces, little gingham triangles in soft colours, fun fabrics with ruffled borders.  I planned beautiful scrap quilts and laid them on flannel sheets to roll up and save until I had a place to work with enough room, and wished for a little more time while the kids grew... I saved fabrics, planned on teaching classes, kept notes on patterns, colour pallets, even began hoarding lengths of cotton - now known to most quilters as a "stash" - and realized my delight in looking at the colour, feeling the weight of the quality cottons, testing the thicknesses on the flannels, and understanding that I am a "Fabric Addict", a "Textile Hoarder" or a "Quilt Whore"... and laughing about it.   I volunteered to teach hand sewing to grade schoolers, helped preschoolers make patches for baby quilts when their teachers were taking leave to raise their own newborns, created many quilts to raise funds for class trips and class projects, learning to better my techniques and trust my instincts on colour and form.

And then I stopped.  When my world fell apart and my life lost it's flavour I had no desire to create.  The fabrics were whittled down and put away, stored for "later"...

So when a friend explained in the Fall of 2010 that they were looking for donations to raise funds for charity I offered to crawl out of my hole and make them a quilt.  I worked for over a month, immersing myself in the colours of the fabric at the waning of Summer and the first few days of fall.  I stacked reds, russets, oranges, yellows, greens...  cream and deep indigo...  and began to feel alive again.  I completed the project as planned, sewing right up to the deadline, and it was offered on silent auction - my best work to date.  I loved every little square, every stitch, every line and colour.  And my friend told me to "make quilts" to bring me out of my darkness... "make quilts"...

I have revived my love of the creative process again.  I have been asked on more than one occasion for commissioned work, but so far I have stuck to gifts and charity.  At this moment, when I am again being dragged back into the mess and drama by a discontented "ex" I am taking time to keep my joy alive by creating something that will make a difference to another human being; matching "twin" squares for an international pair of quilts to raise awareness and help raise funds to combat ovarian cancer.  After that I will concentrate on quilts for our "littlest" recipients...  there are several new little "stars" in my Universe that I want to be able to fold up in a blanket of love...  and thanks to friends I have rediscovered my "love" to be able to create. 

So I'll be cutting and sewing for a day or two... and in the meantime I'd like a cafe mocha vodka valium latte to go... just don't spill it on the quilt!

Learning the hard way....

My lawn is cut, Hallowe'en is over and I have taken all the candy and given it away - some to friends, some to family, and the remaining sack full went to the Foodbank this afternoon during my round of errands.  I have new leashes for my dogs, a new jerry can for the lawnmower, and a new direction for myself.

Go ahead.... laugh....  I moved back into the upstairs.

This time I moved most of it on my own, one box or bag or bin at a time, up and down the stairs every day, over two weeks, until my back refused to lift or my knees refused to climb.  With a little help from my son "J", his buddy "C" and my nephew "P" I got all the important stuff into place; the waterbed (ah... scooshy bed is back...), the couches, cupboards, freezer, dining table, filing cabinet and heavy carved dresser;  everything else I either rolled up, muscled up or dragged up.  I am sore, sweaty, my hands ache, I have bruises in stripes on my arms and shoulders, my knees are complaining, and I'm happy - almost elated really - and down about 10 lbs.!  It took two weeks, and I still have to clean up the carpets and floors in the suite, but the pets have resettled nicely, and I have the rooms organized to my personal satisfaction! 

I now have a studio!  The fabrics for my quilts have shelves to be displayed on and windowed cupboard doors to keep the cat off!  I have open shelf units for my boxes of thread, a wall to hang my flannel workboard all the time, a window for light, and the photos of my most loved children, nieces and nephews to look at whenever my mind wanders from task.  There is a spot for works in progress, niches for upcoming projects, and closed storage bins for my seasonal crafts - notably the Ukrainian Pysanky I love to create in the spring every year.  There is even a special place for the last remaining instruments I decided to keep and play, with their portfolios of music beside them, and my vocalize and Arie Antiche for those moments when I feel joyful and want to sing.

The computer is put away in it's own office where it will not be a constant distraction!  The files and budget papers, lists of assets and expenses, legal documentation, orders, consents, in short the "paper monster" has finally been tamed and caged.  I spend a little time writing or catching up, checking email, playing "poke" on facebook with friends, and then I walk out and close the door.  No longer my only companion.  I spend my best time now taking care of my home and garden, pulling a few weeds, making sure the trash is sorted and gone, running my little robot vacuum and smiling.

The kitchen has come back to life; butter chicken fragrant with fresh chopped cilantro; slow cooked oatmeal thickened with ground flax meal;  scallop and bacon chowder with saffron in the broth; grilled cheese sandwiches loaded with warmed, shaved honey ham; there is shortbread dough in the freezer, candied fruit marinating in brandy; a whole shelf with my wonderful wine collection; there was even a  party on Hallowe'en where little kids ate hot dogs with me and watched "Hocus Pocus"...  in short, I have my life back. 

I never realized that I was the one who just handed bits of my life to anyone who asked. Those who did take it didn't value it. It wasn't theirs to take, nor was I obliged to give it to them. I find I have become a little more cynical, no longer trusting blindly as I realize now the only person who I should ever truly trust is myself.  I have been screwed over more than once in the last couple of years, taken advantage of, learned to see other people in a more realistic way, and I have to say I am no longer QUITE the naive person I was at the beginning of the journey, but I still need the advice of good friends to keep me from screwing myself up again!

So now it's time to live with fulfillment, enjoy each task and complete each task in order, take on new projects, achieve in new ways, and remember to let Karma take care of the rest; I don't need to get even.  Because living well really IS the best revenge... and I'll have a cafe mocha vodka valium latte to go... please...

Walking with ghosts...

I recently called my younger brother "R" and we discussed a number of things that were on my mind.  He suggested I "go back in time" so to speak, and walk through some of the places and memories from before my relationship with the "ex".  It seemed like a simple enough idea, although having been with said "ex" from the age of 15 there were not a lot of places or people untouched by his presence or interaction.  So on a marginally sunny day  I booked a dogsitter for the hellraisers and filled my gastank.  It is the first day of September, and the PNE is open!

Ah, the PNE...  a place that holds so many memories that some of them were only about me and those I love.  I recalled watching my brothers skate at the forum, in awe while my oldest brother drove the Zamboni.  Falling on the ice or running into the boards HARD!  Hot chocolate at the concession on a cold day.  The Marketplace, where just about any type of TV or Online hyped up merchandise can be had for much more than a song... where Aunt Margie's Fudge sits close to the (newly discovered) roasted almond booth - and the espresso glazed warm toasted almonds were worth the price...  I almost felt saintly buying toasted nuts instead of "those little donuts"...  Food, food, food!  Hunky Bills, Curry in a Hurry, gelato, pizza, pasta, fried chicken, burgers, hot dogs, Jamaican and Japanese and Whale Tails....  deep fried Mars Bars...  and an entire row of rib kitchens having a "cook off" to see who would come up in front on the "best ribs at the fair"...  Roving performers that knocked my socks off - a group of 8 very young drummers playing marching band rhythms interwoven with pop culture lines... and dancing while they pounded until the drum sticks shattered in their hands... and Dal Richards' Orchestra playing sweet mellow tunes my parents danced to in a misty Vancouver afternoon.

I  got a tarot card reader to throw the cards for me... nothing new there, just the usual; the Tower (another cluster fuck), 8 of wands (carrying a load of emotional baggage with the end just out of sight), Judgement (exactly) 7 of swords (mourning), with the Empress for new life, the Emperor for strong leadership... and I've turned those cards over and over myself, but it was good to have another opinion...  after all, it's about the interpretation more than anything.  Had Frontier Photo shoot my portrait - I think this is the 5th one for me!  Photographed a few places that once meant something; the spot the "ex" actually proposed, the bandstand, a huge pile of shipping containers stacked alternately with cars... and it reminded me of my brother and his lego with the Hot Wheels,

I watched the Superdogs in the Coliseum, bypassed the prize home, crawled through all the barns to smell the clean hay and watch tiny chickens hatch.  I walked into the Hastings Park Racetrack for the first time on my own and realized that I had been there almost 50 years before... standing at the side, watching the horses being walked from their stalls to show to the crowd before their warm up... only now I was tall enough to see over the fence where before I barely came halfway up!  I felt insecure and alone the entire time.  I started going through the art displays and discovered an homage to the dockworkers of the Port of Vancouver... and my heart came up into my throat and I felt an overwhelming wave of grief come over me.  There, hanging on a hook near the back was a coverall just like the ones Dad used to wear, and there was a tattered little chair set beside an empty cable spool, used as a table...  I could almost smell the grimy oil, the welding solder, the burnt cotton smell from the pinholes that pocked his clothes...  and I missed him with all my heart in that instant.  It made me realize that I have been travelling with the ghosts of my past all around me.  My Dad, my Mom, my past relationship, friends and loved ones who have moved on or passed on... but my memories are just that.

Having felt for a long time that my Mom is with me always is a comfort, but there are times when I wish I could turn to look over my shoulder and see her there.  It's an urge that is unsatisfied, an ache that has no comfort, and I wonder how other people deal with it.  She would have loved the music, the joy, the enthusiasm and the life in those young performers.  And the Dad I remembered was the one who held my little hand, dapper in his nice shirt with his hair all brushed neatly as he stood with me to watch the thoroughbreds walk past.  The Dad who always won a prize at the sledgehammer game... because he was Superman to me.

Just before I left, just for old time's sake, I bought tickets to "win a house, win a car..."  and filled out my name and phone number.  I may as well have dumped them into the trash, as I have never, and will never, win anything from the Fair.  But I have some new memories to link up to the old ones I had hiding in some old drawers in the far cupboard with the pig races and the pigeons.  Maybe that is the "reset" my internal clock needed.  Something to bridge me from the past to the future without having to carry all the heavy, painful stuff all the time to get there.  And I'm sad, and a little melancholy.  But I'm also feeling a little hope.  And I believe that living in a world without hope is the saddest thing of all.

So it's time for me and my ghosts to go our own ways.  They have a lot of travelling to do to catch up to where they should be, and I have a lot of uncovered ground to bring me to where I need to be.  I will just have to do it without their company and make some new models of the best way to make my life the way a life can be lived.  I need a cunning plan... and in the meantime I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please...

Crawling out of the hole...

There are lots of signs of depression and anxiety.  You cycle up and risk things you shouldn't - spending too much, eating too much, lottery tickets, bad choices, drinking, stressing over things you don't need to.  But you never realize you've fallen down the hole until you are looking up from the bottom.

For me, the constant sleeping is my biggest and most telling sign. I love to sleep; when I sleep I am as brave and strong and smart as I wish I could be.  I can travel, work, drive, go out, interact, and even gamble risk free.  I can face down my problems and keep them from overwhelming me.  The dreams lull me into such a false sense of reality that sometimes I'm briefly unsure whether the conversation I had in my dream was real or not.  But while I am sleeping the real world and all the daily things I leave while I'm living in my dreams build up almost to flood proportions, and I find myself stuck in a swamp when I wake because the dams are overflowing.

The most common tell tale sign for me is the half finished projects.  Staying focused and keeping to a goal has always been difficult for me.  Sometimes, guilt and shame keep me from moving forward when I feel I have failed.  But the person I fail the most when that happens is myself.  It has taken me a long time to realize that I am the only person to measure my performance against.  I am the only person I have been making promises to, and when I don't follow through I am the ultimate loser.  And when all those half finished goals sit gathering dust I am trapped in my own chaos again.   The view from down in the hole is pretty limited, and climbing out is aggravating.

Kicking myself in the ass and reminding myself is getting to be a more frequent occurrence.  "You promised yourself you would do this... so do it!  It's not for someone else! It's for yourself"!  And I drag myself out of where ever I have holed up, gather the bits and pieces and get things done.  One step at a time, one nut or bolt, one hole drilled, one bag of garbage out in the bin, one more picture hung on the wall...  One more thing to make my nest my own.  Yes, my own.  For the first time my space isn't in someone else's place, my clothes didn't belong to someone else because I purchased them with my own money for myself, my things are mine and mine alone.  My time is mine, my skills are mine, my choices are made by me and hopefully for me!  Perhaps that has been what I was missing in all the equations...  the realization that it really is mine!  For good or bad,  I am the only one who can choose, and when I let other people push me out because I am afraid, they will take what is mine, use what is mine, use up what is mine... and I don't want that to happen any more.

So now I get to stake a claim on "MINE"... it isn't silver or gold, coal or uranium... potash or diamonds... but I will keep "MINE" and use "MINE" and enjoy "MINE" and do what I need to take care of "MINE"...  No more squatters in my brain, time to show myself more healthy boundaries.

Oh, and I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please...

Little dogs and fever dreams....

I have tonsillitis.  I'm 53 and laid up with a childhood ailment that used to have the Dr. making a housecall to prescribe some bad tasting medicine and have me on a "chicken soup and gruel" diet as a little kid.  I think the toxic headache is the worst part.  Oddly enough, my throat isn't that sore, but my pathetic tonsils are twice their normal size, pitted with nasty spots, and there is nasty stuff oozing somewhere in the back!  UGH!  I wonder how long I've been cooking this tasty bug, and how much it has affected me over the last couple of weeks.  I'm stuffed full of Penicillin, loaded with Ibuprophen.  The aftertaste of the medicine has me remembering why some parents give their kids chocolate; to remove that taste from your mouth!  I have lost my appetite and sleep probably three hours out of every 6 in the day...  on the "plus" side, I've lost 5 lbs.... on the "minus" side, the house is a disaster zone.  I still have to drag my sorry butt into work, but I only have short shifts so I have been managing.  I have actually brought home Popsicles, ice cream and juice.  I actually miss gruel....

The fever dreams are the worst; mostly confronting all those people who I have felt wouldn't listen to me over the last couple of years.  When they say they are my friend, tell me in a conversational way that they will pick me up from work if I need them, take me out for a coffee, see me another time I look them straight in the eye in my dreams and tell them firmly that "we are not and will never be friends". But I have noticed that when I speak with them in my fever dreams I'm no longer screaming.  All the anger seems to be fading at last, and that is a comfort.

There is one constant in all of this, though.  Every time I lay my head down there is a small, furry dog nudging my hand and comforting me.  Every time I wake there are little button eyes looking at me, and a small doggy voice questions me so softly.... "arf"... The dogs stay close all the time.  Penny lays at my feet wherever I am - laying in bed, working at finding something simple to eat in the kitchen, sitting at my computer desk.  She sleeps quietly at the foot of my bed at night, coming for a hug and a tummy rub whenever I pat the spot beside me to call her.  Daisy lays in the middle of the bed, tight to my side.  When I lay with one arm tucked under my head facing the wall she is there at my back.  And Folly stays where he can see me, with his head on my shoulder, sighing in his sleep when he closes his eyes.  I realize that at this very moment of my life they are my greatest comfort.  Although I miss the companionship and conversation that comes with a good relationship I would not give them up for someone else.  We are a package deal.  I realize that the likelihood of me finding someone who will put up with my quirks as well as my three little ragamuffins (and my three cats) is slim to none, but at this point it isn't such a big deal.  I am coming to terms with the thought of living alone.  I know with the dogs I will never really be lonely.  I just need a little more balance in my day to day life.

I'm looking forward to finally seeing some summer... although I have to say all the rain we have had this year seems like another fever dream.  I want to pull weeds, pick fruit, open the windows and have the warm wind blow out all the funk.  I want to open my heart and let the warm wind blow out all the dust that I've gathered.  And I remember the words of the Dalai Lama... "when your life turns to dust, vacuum..." 

So it's time to take another orange pill, another yellow pill, another blue pill, another white pill... climb into bed and sleep until it's time to take another pill.... to recover slowly and beat this stinking, festering, rotten bug into submission.  Needless to say, once I have recovered enough I will be cleaning the whole place with a little bit of "javex" on every surface....  stupid tonsils... I hate you....

In the meantime I would like a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please....  with a side of chocolate...