Holidays for one....

My biggest regret these days is that the old traditions don’t apply any more.  No more kids in costumes on Hallowe’en, and fireworks are banned in my community; no more Easter Bunny with spring clothes, comic books and chocolate; no more pictures on Santa’s knee (that one always brought a tear to my eye) or knowing the stockings are hung and waiting to be filled... With the advent of DVDs and downloading, awaiting the airing of “Rudolf” or “Frosty the Snowman” is a thing of the past, and I can watch the Grinch at any time, with Boris Karloff or Jim Carey.  The yearly countdown to holidays is no more;  no kids in school, no Christmas break, just working for the month of December, shopping 24 hours a day for the three weeks leading up to the one day of the year they close the doors.  Now is when I learn about myself; now I get to find out what traditions I did for everyone else, and which ones were really mine.

Dad loved the holidays and every tradition that went with it.  The  music, the food, singing carols together while we made our Christmas pudding - Silent Night” sung with three part harmony and woven together with his perfect Irish tenor -  wrapping gifts and stacking them under the tree, and the family all together sharing a meal, warm with affection and good whiskey.  There was always room at the table to fit one more plate, always a pair of arms to hold my children when they were small while I helped my Mother put the final finishes on the meal – placing olives and pickles on a tray and stirring the gravy in Granny’s turkey roaster.  I have that roaster in my cupboard now, and it holds the auras of the “ghosts of a hundred turkeys” in its’ cast iron and enamel body. Last year I barely had the energy to put up my tree; I still went to the field, cut it down with my own hands the way my Father did when I was small, stood it upright in the heavy cast iron stand, hung on the lights, the baubles, the garlands, and placed St. Nicholas on the top of the tree where my children had taken turns (under duress sometimes) every year.  

I have spent the last year asleep and dreaming, waiting to wake up from the long nightmare of grief and loneliness, but I didn’t get to have that luxury – if it is a luxury.  There were times I felt like the stuffing has been kicked out of me once too many times and I didn’t have enough fight left to do more than get back up and step back in.  But I am not numb.  I just hadn’t mustered the strength to fight back yet.  And while I was dreaming the rest of the world had left me behind.  When there is no one to share them with I really have no interest in celebrating those things; celebrating them alone seems hypocritical to me because a special day is only special when your loved ones  share it with you.  You can cook a turkey or roast a ham any day of the week, but without those you love it really doesn’t mean anything.  

But something changed in me over the last year.  This time Christmas Eve wasn't an ordeal watching happy couples walk together through the doors, and knowing my family was celebrating without me.  Somehow over the last 12 months I grew up.  This is really MY first Christmas.  One I should have had over 30 years ago, with no responsibilities other than being a guest in the home of someone I love.  I am not making a meal, there has been very little baking, the lights are up on the front of the house, and the tree stands in it's place - for the last time in this home, as it happens.  I have learned to let go, and to let things be.  I have finally found the peace I had been waiting for.  And from that place of peace comes new strength, and hopefully a new focus.

The truth is, the world doesn't treat you any worse than you let it, and  just as Eleanor Roosevelt said "no one can make you feel inferior without your permission."    Well, I no longer have the time to give anyone permission to make me feel inferior.  I have been down a long and difficult path, but I discovered that, just for now, I have everything I could ever want; self respect, courage, strength, joy, independence, and love for my family.  Anything else is just "stuff".  I can get my own stuff, but knowing that I am worth all the things I have fought for over the last while is the most important part of my future.  Now I get to go forward into the next part of my life with peace at last.  Hard won, hard earned, and willing to let things be.  

Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me....

Where is the "housework fairy".....

I hate housework.  I don't think there is a single person on EARTH who enjoys the constant upkeep it takes to make sure your house is clean, sanitary and organized;  a necessary evil at best, at worst it's just evil!

I grew up not really understanding what housework was, because I don't remember Mom doing much!  I remember a couple of times when my sisters stripped the fir flooring of the house with turpentine!  I remember trying to keep my stuff contained in my room - without much luck, I may add!  I remember sweeping the kitchen floor before dinner, doing dishes every night, and "bucket brigades" when Mom used a ringer washer to do laundry and hung the clothes to dry on a rack over the stove in winter... but I really don't remember housework as anything I noticed happening.  It was a terrible shock (really!) when I moved away from home and realize the oven actually has to be cleaned once in a while, that toilets need scrubbing every day, that sheets get changed and laundry gets done more than once a week!

You can add more to that now.  Now that I am on my own and there is no one else making messes I have only my own "organized chaos" to deal with.  At the moment it is TOTAL chaos!  My little "Daisy Mae" chihuahua has given me 5 delightful puppies!  I adore them, play with them, feed them, clean them and keep their beds clean and piddle free!  But I am up most nights three or four times to quiet "Daisy" when she has to have a drink, or some food, or feed them, or go outside to pee or poop in the middle of the night so she doesn't make messes in the house...  so with Christmas on the way, and my attempting to whittle down my household goods while using up my time with puppies (and blogs... lol...) I am finding that the Chaos is a bit overwhelming.

And now my dear little "Penny" Shih Tzu has given me 6 totally sweet puppies as well....   As of today I have a three year old dog, a 2 and a half year old dog, a one year old dog, five "almost one month old" pups and six "almost one week old" pups... and two cats... and a huge Christmas tree in the living room....  and between you and me....

I WANT TO KNOW WHERE THE DAMN HOUSEWORK FAIRY IS AND WHAT DO I HAVE TO BRIBE HER WITH??????????

I have piles of newspaper ready to use in the playpen; mountains of puppy laundry that gets constantly used, washed, stacked and used again;  I still manage to keep myself and my uniform clean for work, but mealtime is getting to be on the fly;  more than likely I eat at work, or grab some yogurt and fresh vegies, washing everything down with lots of hot tea... But every day the floors need to be disinfected!  The pens get wiped down with alcohol soaked cloths to clean them, the couches are looking worse for wear (and desperately needing another washing), and the area rug has suffered the final insult and been rolled up for the trash.  And I still need to scrub the toilets, clean the dishes, do the regular laundry, change the sheets, sweep the floors, and stay on top of the regular chores that make up housework.

None of that matters really, though.  In just a few short weeks my little puppies will go to their "forever families" with a piece of my heart in each one.  They will be clean, cared for, well fed, cuddled constantly and played with before then.  They will know that humans are the source of all good things.  They will have manners, know how to eat their dinners, enjoy the "rough and tumble" of playing with toys, and will make someone else very happy.  And I know I will cry like a baby when they go.  For now I listen to their tiny voices and savour each and every moment.  If the dishes go a little longer in the sink or the laundry pile sits an extra day I don't really worry.

So, who wants to come and play with a basket full of puppies?  It will certainly be heartwarming, and it will give me immeasurable pleasure to share them while I have them...In the meantime, if housework is a necessary evil I guess I'll be evil for a while.  And will someone PLEASE give that housework fairy my address?

The white stuff...

I have always loved snow.  I love the way it looks when it drifts down from the sky;  I have watched it through half iced over windows, drifting down through the overhead lights at a city bus stop, blowing over my face while I shoveled, loved the crunch under my feet in my big "Moon boots", the taste of it on my tongue, and once in a while was able to pick out the true shape of individual snowflakes on the sleeve of my coat.

So many special moments are remembered because of their tie to snow.  Breaking into the house when I was little to get my baby sister warmed up and make her a hot chocolate after school.  I guess Mom's bus was delayed and she was late coming back from her Friday shopping trip!  The winter of the "Red Racer" when Dad built a sled from metal tubing and we proceeded to take our lives into our hands - and in my brother's case his kneecap! - to race past everyone on any hill that could be found in the area.  Little Mountain where the back of the sled broke off and left myself and "J" to ride down a steep rocky slope with Dad stranded halfway up...  Snowmen, and snow forts and snowball fights (and I could occasionally be a deadly accurate shot!).

Later a new house, high school, and shoveling... always shoveling... Christmas lights through a covering blanket of snow.  Piled on the roofs of the neighbourhood, and the homes with the least insulation always had the longest icicles.  That fast freeze after a snowfall that left a crust of ice on the surface, sparkling like crystals in the sunshine.  Unseasonal snows late in the year with big flakes that piled high and then melted fast when the sun came out.

Inner tubing down Mount Seymour - when my dear friend "M" cracked his spine and ended up in a brace for months!  Driving through the back parking lot at the PNE and doing donuts in my boyfriend's car...

Later on when I owned my own home there were other snow memories;  coming home from work on a snowy day in December to find my husband had FINALLY decided to install that double glazed window in our bedroom, but he was only halfway through the job!  Playing with the cats by tossing them gently into a drift and watching them hop around in the powder.  Making sure the walkway was shoveled... and since I was the one home most of the time that job seemed to fall on me, but I figured I was strong and healthy enough, and I had the time, so shovel I did.  And one snowy November I shoveled the walk with my brand new baby daughter strapped to my chest in her "baby bag", and watched her watch the snowflakes fall on her sweet little face and drift to perch on her soft eyebrows. 

There was snow when my two oldest children had chicken pox in February of 1990, great swags of snow draped on the railing of the back deck, and a driveway to shovel while the snowplow blocked my efforts to clear a path for my car!  The blizzard of '91 when I devoured an entire Christmas cake while listening to Mozart and watching the snow drift past the window... and getting called into the hospital because my "sugar levels were too high and they were going to monitor me..."  I never confessed about the cake, and my son was born two days later... both of us healthy and him in a bit of a hurry to arrive!

The snow in 2008 where I shoveled so much snow... and my oldest son taught me the proper use of driveway salt!  There were many times I was tired and sore, aching from childbirth or injury or surgery, and still I shoveled.  I remember once thinking "F*CK!  How do old people do this?", but I still shoveled. The kids were too small, and later not interested.  My partner was working, either on the road or in his shop.  And I was resentful and sometimes angry.  But is still had to be done.

And now, this snow.  What's different is THIS time I shovel for myself and myself alone.  I shovel the side walk, the cycle path, the driveway, and a little bit of the neighbour's too.  My tenant is in a "delicate" state and I want her safe.  My neighbours still have to walk, and the road is not a safe one with no curbs or sideways, so I make sure there is ample space between them and the cars that pass too fast.  And I use LIBERAL salt!  It's an opportunity to nod and smile at the people of my neighbourhood when they pass, wave at the postman (who always appreciates my efforts), the newspaper carriers, and the buses as they pass by before they stop outside my workplace at the loop... and I know many of those drivers by sight.  And once in a while someone will thank me for my efforts.  But I am the one who is thankful.  I am thankful that I have the health and strength to shovel the snow, and also thankful I still have a driveway to shovel.  So this time I laughed with joy as the snow fell, took pride in a job well done, appreciated the ache of strong muscles well used, and slept well that night. 

And I still have a few bags of salt in reserve for the next time....  Hot chocolate, anyone?

Book nerds of the world, unite....

I confess;  I am a book nerd.  A friend of mine recently posted a "BBC 100" list of "must read" books.  Once I tallied my list I had over 40 of them either as books I had actually read or partially read. I have always loved books. There was a time when I kept every book I had ever read;  stacks and piles and shelves and BOXES of books!  A library of paperback and hard cover novels and anthologies, instructional manuals, encyclopedias of gardening and animal care and cooking and crafting.  If I read it and owned it, it stayed with me.

I discovered the public library in Grade 2.  It was a mile walk (yeah, uphill, in the freezing snow with no gloves... really...) and I made the trip nearly every Saturday for months.  I would sit and read all the childrens' books, then take some home to read.  I checked out as many as I was allowed, and carried them home to read over and over, basically memorizing the stories.  Once I mastered the children's books I moved onto headier stuff and I read The Hobbit during the summer before I started Grade 3... my older sister thought I was faking it... she didn't think I could read at that level. It set the bar for literature for me from then on.  I devoured folk tales, mysteries, gothic novels (Bram Stoker was a favorite), and I discovered Romance novels as I became a teenager.  

 

In school, although I read voraciously I never worked hard at it, and was usually reading another book before the report for the previous one was written.  I immersed myself in reading, using the story lines traveling into my brain to keep the chaos of home from impacting on me too much.  So I guess I was raised by the books I read.  

 

When I was offered a chance to take an English course in Highschool called "Novels" I jumped at it!  We would turn in a stack of books that had been read, some would be discussed in groups, some had reports, some were class projects... all were excellent.  My teacher kept a tally of books in the class report ledger, and I started  to keep "lists" of all the books I had read.. two or three a week, ...sometimes one every day. 

I kept up with a list of "books I have read" for a long time.  I listed titles, number of pages and dates read.  I filled up a spiral bound notebook, then added loose leaf pages to it, for almost twelve of my adult years until my children were born.  

When the time finally came, though, most of those books I had held onto became just another stack of stuff that weighed me down and kept me from moving forward.  I realized that I had to streamline my life a bit more, and books was only one of the hoards that was ruthlessly (I thought) pared down to make room for other "stuff".  It was really nothing compared to the final "Purge of 2009" when I truly reduced the room full to only a few piles of books that I knew I could - and have - enjoyed over and over.  My "summer reading" pile, my "evenings before sleep" pile, my "making my life better" pile, and my "favorite children's stories" pile... the most precious pile of all.

My most treasured possessions (well, as "stuff" goes") are those books from my childhood.  I have a stack of old leather bound story books in my private collection, tucked into a tall bookshelf in the corner of my bedroom where they are not for public display.  In them are  stories from long ago;  "Little Black Sambo", "The Crow and the Daylight" and "The Sparrow-King's Rewards" to name a few.  They were new when I was born, and are standing the test of time.  Not all my books are so well preserved.  I have a collection of small Victor Hugo novels, bound in blue cloth and stamped with gold.  They are too fragile to read, but they carry the memory of my Father and I wandering a swap meet together and how he haggled with the seller for them because I wanted them.  It still brings a smile to my face.  There are a few others; favorite authors, favorite novels I re-read from time to time, story books I read to my children and others I hope someday to read to my grandchildren.  They stand together as my remaining book collection, whittled down after the "purge" of 2009!  I only read before sleeping now, mostly ones I have enjoyed in the past.  But I recently wandered through a bookstore, checking each department, paging through texts on design, motorcycles, dogs, food, and gardening, giggling over "self help" titles, looking at what titles I had enjoyed, what authors I was still interested in, and actually managed to leave without purchasing a single book. 

 

There were a few titles I will add to the collection later, but right now my life is full enough, and serene enough, that I don't need to read to quiet the chaos around me or silence the anxiety that keeps me from sleep.  Life is good, and it's going to get much better soon... And I will always have room for a few more books.

Making a list and checking it twice...

Ah... 'tis the season.

Christmas for me used to be a big Chaotic production.  As a child I took my Christmas money to the local stores after school had let out for the season and purchased what I could for my large family from what little I had.  Later, as a teen, I would take the bus into downtown Vancouver and spend most of my money on my Mom (even calculating the taxes into the total) with a little left for small tokens for brothers, sisters and friends.  I started making gifts after a while, and discovered my favorite Christmas cake and cookie recipes at the age of 13!  I still make those items every year, even though life is very different now.  I have photos in my personal album of me sewing gifts for various family members so all would have a gift under the tree - I especially remember the night shirt and night hat combination I created one Christmas eve for my loving Brother-in-law "D" way back in the day.  He wore it Christmas day with a smile on his face and that made me very happy!

As time went by and I moved away from home I tried to capture something by having friends and family visit "our" home and share in the Christmas spirit.  First on Christmas Eve, then as my children started arriving on the last Sunday before Christmas.  I would make handmade invitations, send out Christmas cards and a newsletter, and photos of the kids to close relatives.  I would prepare piles of preserves from my summer stash of fruit, clean the house (and once in a while the house would be cleaned by professionals for which I was very grateful), decorate, bake, cook and freeze whatever I had room for.  The light display on the front of the house grew;  the decorations became more elaborate and the letters became longer, but there was something missing.  I was trying too hard to grab hold of something and make my family share the feeling when they weren't feeling it.  In fact, my marriage had fallen apart a long time before and my "partner" had emotionally checked out, so I was grasping at something that had slipped away a long time before.

I spent the first Christmas on my own mourning the loss of something I had never had.  I still baked, cooked, cleaned, sent out cards and invited friends to partake, but I scaled down so much, and ended up realizing something.  Just like the Grinch I realized  it comes without ribbons, it comes without tags, it comes without packages, boxes or bags...   I knew finally in my heart that really, it's just another day on the calender if you don't have someone you love to share it with.

This year is another "first".  My "first" Christmas as a stronger, healthier person.  I asked a friend to come over last week and help me take all the Christmas decorations out of the attic. She is a young Mom with two little toddlers who is also starting over and has nothing. There were 14 rough totes, boxes, containers and packages, loaded with every item you could think of, and at the end of that evening half of them went home with her...  Looking at some of those items was bittersweet.  Decorations I had bought for the kids - little angels, snowmen, wreathes with doves, baubles and pinecones - all of them sitting in boxes, unwanted, unneeded and forgotten.  I know now that my kids didn't enjoy Christmas.  It was just a rush of Chaos for them, and it was harder because at the end of the day they didn't even have school to go to so they could get away from the final meltdown of their parent's relationship;  that long, slow slide into oblivion with him running and me chasing him, until I stopped chasing and he just ran away...  and they knew that they weren't on either of our radar...  It wasn't the stuff they wanted, or the trappings or the feast, the gathering of people they didn't know... it was being made to realize that they mattered more than the "stuff" that made up what I thought of as "Christmas".

So this year there will be no letter.  I will ask a few dear friends to celebrate some things with me this year;  growth, survival, joy, self realization and love.  Always love.  I will make time to spend with my kids, each in their own time, to enjoy and celebrate my love for them in a kinder, softer and gentler way.  There will be enough lights to sparkle in my eyes - and joyful because I put them up on my own.  There will be  enough tinsel and baubles, enough pine boughs and holly branches.  But not more than I can do for myself.  I will still go to cut my tree - the way Dad did when we were small - and decorate it with too many lights and too many decorations.  My home will smell of baking Christmas cake, shortbread and balsam.  And there will be peace.  And many small dogs....

It takes a village...

How many of us have heard the expression "it takes a village to raise a child"?   As I look back on my life and examine how I did things - and where I arrived at the end of the day - I am rethinking that expression and looking at it from a new angle thanks to my best friend "L"...

"L" along with "T" have been my guides through the last years, and also my mentors and supporters, especially in the turmoil that has come up in the disaster my life became.  But sticking my head up my butt and trying to steer myself through this isn't an option, and I have stopped concentrating so much on my own petty crap and opening up to other people.   When I look at my young family members starting their next phases of life I realize more and more what the term "village" really comes down to;  family.

There is a difference between "relatives" and "family". Relatives are related by blood or marriage; family are the ones who support you when you need it most, rejoice in your joys and share your sorrows, and ones you do the same for. I am honored and humbled by the scope of my family, whether they are "relatives" or "family of my heart", as so many of you have become over the years.  And with that thought comes another, which was first seeded by "L" and I am trying to embrace as part of myself.


It takes a village to support a marriage.  Every village has it's stellar examples of what life can become, and it's cautionary tales of how badly things can go if you are selfish and self centered.  It has it's leaders, it's "village idiots" and all the people in between that fill in the gaps and take up the slack to get everything done.  We all need mentors, and being ignorant and prideful won't get you to the end of the road in any shape other than BAD!  "L" told me once that the speech she would have given at the most wonderful wedding for my daughter (if anyone had asked her) would have been about just that;  that it takes a village to support a marriage, and the village their marriage will grow in and be supported by was attending that evening;  all those "family" members who gathered to witness and rejoice in the joining of families, the extension and growth of their "village".  That is the group that will support through good times and bad... the "cautionary tales", "stellar examples", "village idiots" and just ordinary people who get things done... and love them both because they are "family".  


I realize at the end of the day that pride, arrogance and ignorance were no excuse for some of the ways I did things, and at the end of the day I did end up somewhere "bad", but where I go from here will be different in a few ways.  I am open to understanding how I have been selfish, and hoping that I can and will change that part of myself through constant vigilance.  As well as the help of my own personal "village"...  those people who, through blood, marriage or love have decided that I am worth having as a member of their own "village".  And to them I will do all I can to be the very best I can be.

The things I do at work have little to do with the job....

There are some things I do at work that have very little to do with my actual job description.  My official title is "Host", and the analogy is similar to a greeter.  I stand at the door, with my store uniform on, smile at customers, make change for the shopping carts, hand out current flyers, show them coupons, point out where the washrooms are, and direct them to store services, particular items, or call for assistance over the PA system.  I also sweep or mop the floors, make notes in the daily journal, and write down when I take my breaks.  I keep the carpets in the doorway from "migrating north with the geese" and jamming under the automatic doors, and when the doors get bumped off their hinges I put them back where they belong.

But there are a lot of other things I do at work that have more to do with what needs to be done than what the job description is.

I have called "Code Adam" and locked the doors when a child has gone missing.  I have called for a wheel chair for a customer who was unable to walk.  I have cleaned up vomit, broken glass, spilled coffee, snow, rain, blueberries, rotten fish guts and even a partially eviscerated rat!  I have chased trapped birds out of the vestibule before they break their necks on the windows.  I call for first aid when a child is injured or someone trips on the stairs.  I stop customers from bringing their small pets into the store ( I always feel like the Wicked Witch of the West when I have to heave out puppies), I help customers retrieve their coins from the carts, when they have been "glued" in the coin slot, by tapping on the top of the mechanism with a hammer until the coin vibrates far enough to pop out!  I unjam the shopping carts for young mothers with babies in their arms and for old folk with arthritis. I wash those green baskets that get piled in the hallway so they no longer stink of Feta Cheese, or yoghurt, or fish, or have a skin of combined coffee grounds, dirt and olive pits in them.  I call the manager or the Loss Prevention Officer if customers complain about aggressive panhandlers.  I find a chair for the volunteer with the poppy tray and show them the warmest spot in the entry.  And I smile. 

I have slipped outside for a few seconds at sundown to watch the sky, or walked across the front of the building just to get some air.  I take my break covering the door to stay on watch.  And I don't mind.  There is always someone to chat with, someone who has shared their moments with me; the family who has a member who is battling cancer, or who has lost the battle;  those like me who are working through the breakdown of their family and need to talk to someone; some come to flirt, some to joke, and some are just lonely and want a connection for a few moments.  Many pat me on a shoulder, or hug me, or smile and remember my name, because I make them feel welcome and comfortable.  Someone once told me "when you do nice things for people they do nice things back" and I am finding that to be true.  And so I smile.


I can tell you where the bamboo skewers are, where to find the pepper jelly, what aisle the Christmas stuff is in, and where the blankets are.  I smile endlessly and treat each customer like they are respected and welcome... because to me they are.  Just like I know that my colleagues will have my back if I need to call for assistance, I know that I will jump when they call me.  I consider this;  if that old lady was my little Mommy I would want her to be treated with respect, so I treat this precious person with the respect due them.  If my niece had their arms full of their precious bundle I would want there to be someone there to help them, so I help this young parent with their cart.

They come for their groceries, their family portraits, trips to the clinic and prescriptions at the drugstore.  They buy their car insurance, their glasses, a slice of hot pizza from the deli, or a free chocolate chip cookie at the bakery.  I see neighbours, friends and relatives at work on a daily basis.  Some I have known since childhood, and some are new friends from the last year.  I watch when a young couple comes in first with a telltale "baby bump", progresses to holding a newborn, and allows me to coo at their new addition and smile...

And if I give out 3 smiles freely and receive one back that's a pretty good return on my investment... at least I think it is.