Small Offensive Victories

I finally did it. It's a small thing really. But huge. Really huge. Last night I rolled over and slept in the middle of the bed. Yup. No longer hugging the side I ventured out into the vast emptiness beside me...and it was good. Sooooo good. I woke up refreshed. Nothing ached. The bed no longer feels empty. It's just the right size for me and the occasional night time visit from a wee one and the cats, of course. I'm looking forward to bed as I write this. I can hardly wait for when I get around to switching over to flannel sheets...the sign that winter is approaching.

I fixed a drip in my bathtub. I'm not a wuss when it comes to home repair but plumbing has never been something I've dabbled in. Well, I figured out how to turn off the water and I opened the sucker up. All it needed was a washer replacement and voila! One other thing I can handle on my own thank you very much.

Today the kids had a dental appointment and S had an eye doctor appointment. We went out for lunch and did some school supply shopping as well. All in all a good and full day.

I'm very disappointed with the Canadian War Museum's decision to change its panal display describing the controversy surrounding the bombing campaign of the allied forces in Germany during World War II. Sigh. I guess historical facts don't matter as much as not offending folks.

Speaking of being non offensive, the ubiquitous 'support our troops' propaganda is getting to be a bit much. Seriously. I can't really think that there is anyone who does not 'support' the men and women who are risking their lives in our country's name. But. The question arises (well, it doesn't arise which is part of the problem) that the mode/method for this 'support' is never defined. What does 'support our troops' actually mean? Its hard to argue against such an innocuous statement but its also hard to stomach when one gets the feeling that this statement is both meaningless and chock full of meaning for those 'in the know.' The similarities to the 'choose life' campaign are great. Who wouldn't 'choose life'? Except...whose life. Under what circumstances...etc. etc. The biggest problem with pat sayings and social mantras is that one cannot dissect them and examine them and tease out from them meanings not readily apparent on the surface. To do that is to admit that one does not accept what is being said. One might, oh the horror, possibly cause offense. And to not accept it means that one is against it. If you're not with us, you're against us. And if you are one of 'them' and not one of 'us' you may as well take the train out of Dodge.

What a scary world to live in. And to think, we're the lucky ones who live in a democracy.

Click

It happened last Sunday. It was quick. Almost immediate. I stopped hurting. I don't know if it was something he said. Or did. Or was it me? I just stopped. A switch inside me clicked off. I haven't really trusted this new feeling. This feeling of peace. Of possibility. I saw my therapist. Funny how quickly I've taken ownership this being our second solo session. She said that what I was experiencing was not unheard of. She described it in terms of my having closed a door to my heart. According to her, the worst is now over. That's a blessing. I would not want to revisit these past few weeks. Brutal. Raw. I told her that I felt a bit guilty that my suffering didn't seem to match what I had lost. She explained that I had probably been grieving for quite a while but not really acknowledging my feelings as grief. Interesting. So now I'm moving forward. Getting things done. Trying not to be too impatient. I'm not in any hurry. There's time. My days are full. A routine is becoming established. I'm feeling stronger then I have felt in a long time.
'A' lost two teeth today so I get to meet the tooth fairy. I think I've solved my childcare dilemma. I'm looking forward to getting a bit of canning done on the weekend. I'm thinking of mixing peaches and pears. I'm coming back.

Title less

Saw some friends in unexpected places yesterday. Well timed. My baby sitter cancelled for today so I had her come in last night. Yes. I actually got out!! Here's my chinese horoscope for today:

August 16, 2007Small financial problems will disturb you and compel you to postpone your wild desires for spendings. Your religious and philosophical convictions will suddenly be strongly shaken; doubt will settle down in your mind; you'll be seized by a kind of metaphysical anguish which may last for some time. Perturbations in your affective life. You'll feel an almost pathological fear of losing the object of your love; this fear will give rise to crises of jealousy which will irritate your mate very much.

Interesting eh?

Now off to work and on my spare moments make more plans for Summer Party 2007!

And So It Begins

I got the phone bill today from my work cell. All my loving conversations with J while I was in Chicago. Only $150.

I received a message from J's mom that she is busy this week and can't babysit. She wishes me luck in finding one. I wanted the opportunity to actually go out with a friend of mine who is in town from Hong Kong.

You know. For all those nights when J went out and assumed I'd stay in. For all those times when I told J that I never understood how he couldn't 'get it' that even when he felt caged he had 100% more freedom to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it then I did. For all those times when he said 'hell, why should I come home when you'd be asleep anyway' not bothering to think that it might be nice to be woken up in order to reconnect. For all those times when J assumed that I'd take care of any possible crises on my own and through his absence he'd force me to shoulder the responsibilities. For all those mornings when I'd be the one waking up to take care of the kids cuz J was tired from the night before. For that time in our past when J was insecure about me and calling all the time and my reaction was to do my best to never ever put him through that again because I knew from personal experience how hard that was to take. For being called a cunt and a bitch and me excusing it because I 'knew' he didn't really mean it.

For all those times.

I'm beginning to feel a wee bit pissed off.

Time

When did I become that person? When did it become ok to make me wait? I'm not talking about time to heal or time to sort things out. I'm not even talking about things that 'happen' such as meeting so and so and losing track of time at the pub. I'm talking about waiting in a real sense. I'm talking about having to wait because someone else is late. And the real reason for their being late is that I have become a person, to them, not worthy of having my time respected. Even now, I do my damnedest to be where I've told people I will be. When someone tells me that they have told so and so that they would meet them at a specific time I will have to say 'go' even though my needs may not yet have been met. I do my best to respect other people and their time. When did I let this slide for me? When did I begin to accept that perhaps my time wasn't as valuable as theirs? Perhaps I should join a growing majority and say fuck it. My time is my own and if you choose not to show up, I'm outta here. But I'm not like that. And I can't just pick up and go. I need to depend on a babysitter...who may or may not show up on time. I think, however, that my time does deserve to be respected. And if you want me in your life, you'll need to show up at the right time.

Strange

Strange. I feel that I have been plucked out from the world I once new and have been placed in a maze. A maze with sharp corners and the occasional tender caress. A maze that is not only confusing and infuriating but strangely exciting as well. J is leaving for 2 months. I will be alone. But I have been alone. So what really will change? I want him to know how much the kids will miss him. I will miss him. But I have to stop trying to get him to be responsible. That has to come from himself.

Its Not a Poem

I miss you
More than I thought I would
And missing you feels different
More different than expected
My days haven't changed much
I carry on
I do what I do
But I'm conscious of an emptiness
A hole inside of me
I imagine that its dark
And moist
And hollow
The damp warmth is created out from unshed tears
Choked back
Swallowed
An attempt to fill the hole
Left behind when you left.

My Chinese Horoscope today -- Earth Rooster

August 8, 2007You must take energetic measures to stop a drain which may seriously unbalance your budget. There'll be risks of brutal rupture in many couples, be they under formation or already solidly formed; to prevent such an event, try to be understanding and tolerant. Your professional activities will seem to you outrageously routine, and you'll be seized by a strong desire to slam the door; try however to moderate your anger, for its consequences might be much more negative than they appear.


Damn! But ain't it accurate eh?

The Past Lives On

Today was remarkably normal. Got up. Got the kids ready. Went back to work. Caught up on stuff. Broke down only once. Actually went home at one point. I needed some papers that were in my briefcase. Papers from my Chicago trip. Going through that hurt. And then I recovered. I went to the councillor. Seems I'm actually doin' ok. Will not be going next week. Will see how it goes the week after. Got some advice. Was told that I was functioning very well. Surprisingly well. Came home. Played. Walked the neighbour's dog (am pseudo dog sitting). Made dinner. Leftovers. Ready to do it all again tomorrow. Got some new baby pictures from one of my staff. Wish I could be in that mindframe. My dad reminded me of my great aunt -- Ita. She was one of 3 from the village that my dad grew up in who returned from a Siberian labour camp. One of those that returned went mad and was put in an asylum. Another returned as a corpse. I met Ita when I was 10. I went to Finland and remember hugging her. She was strong. I also remember that she had my picture on her wall. My dad said that he saw a lot of her in me. Just the right thing to say at the right time. My dad is pretty special. So am I.

Traffic

I'm really starting to get the hang of these solo/solo with kids road trips. Went to Montreal yesterday and spent the night. Had one highway breakdown. No no...the car was fine. I just felt like I had been kicked in the stomach again and started to cry. No danger. I was in stop and start construction traffic.

Montreal was good. Cathartic. Allowed me a bit of mental space? It didn't stop me from calling him tho' ... fuck I wish I could stop. I have to stop. Just stop. Stop. And then move. On. Slowly.

I got back with the kids this afternoon and my dad showed up an hour later with his girlfriend and a 40 oz of scotch.

They just went up to bed. I'm tired. Should sleep well. My neck has been really hurting again.

I was wondering if this could be something to hope for. Although people around me are telling me to beware of the possibility that J might want to come back if he finds it too hard 'out there' I'm hoping for a different scenerio. You see, I want J to succeed. Climb the mountains he needs to climb. Get ahead. Get confident. Then come back and ask me if I would like to join him. Equally. In strength. I know I shouldn't even be caring anymore. But I do. I won't sit around pining. There really is too much to do. But, I will allow myself a little guilt free caring. After 10 years I should be allowed to still care. Wow...this is jumbled. I'm head spinning and foot numb tired.

Maybe I should be taking the here and now as one giant stop for construction. A pain in the arse for sure but, the roads will all be smoother when it's done.

G'nite

Paying the Piper

When I was in highschool, I had a part time job in a theatre. I had this so I could cover my personal spending. I hated asking my folks for money.

In university, I held down 5 part time jobs, had a full course load and held down an 'A' average.

I have always worked. I have always believed that you get what you put in. Although times were at times tight, I got through it.

Now, I find myself in the position of having to be dependent to a certain extent on a person who does not necessarily share my views on this matter.

When I got married, I got my first full time job. While working at the job, I continued working on my master's degree, I kept the house in order (ie. clean), did my best to keep up with laundry and did my best to find time to go out with 'J.'

Kids came and when I went back to work after 7 months, J stayed home. His choice. He wanted the kids to know their daddy. But, while he was at home and I was at work, I was the one who still did the majority of the housework, while keeping our family finances in order. This was made tougher because I was not only making up for his not working but making up for the months preceding where I was on parental leave -- only 55% of my salary -- and J wasn't bringing in a lot then either. He stayed home for a year and a half and the kids then went to daycare. He took a construction job that lasted for approx. 4 months. It wasn't a great job. He had to commute long distances. He was tired. I understood when he left that job. It wasn't the first time he left a job that no longer made him feel good.

I'm sensing a theme. When the councillor asked him why he didn't want to come home at night, ie. what would happen to him, he replied 'I would be made to not feel good about myself.'
Hmmmmm.

So it's not just me. Certain jobs made him feel this way too. Perhaps its the very notion of responsibility. Being responsible. But he was a husband and father. Two titles that for all intensive purposes basically mean 'being responsible.'

When my dad got married, he was offered several part time contracts as a carpenter and builder. He turned them down even though he loved doing that work and the money was good. He looked and found a full time job with a steady paycheque.
He said that it was his responsibility to look after the family. My mother cleaned houses and law offices. She even cleaned our guitar teacher's house in exchange for lessons. Our garden fed us veggies that lasted through the winter and spring. Although my parents eventually separated when I was in highschool, my memories of growing up are good. Solid. We worked together as a family. My dad said that occasionally after work he'd stop and have a beer but, he was always home within an hour. He and my mom went dancing every weekend.

J has always gotten upset when he is faced with not getting what he wants. While I was doing my damnedest to make sure our bills were paid and we had a bit left over for savings, he insisted on keeping a chunk for himself. My salary has been larger and I have therefore been paying the larger percentage of the bills. I did not mind that because as a married couple and family I believed that we had a common pot and were working together towards the same goal. I didn't believe I was 'owed' anymore.

J told me he believed he deserved more. He deserved to be able to go out with this friends/work colleagues. He deserved to be able to spend 'his' money on climbing gear.

Our marriage died, because he wasn't getting what he deserved and I didn't make him feel good about himself.

Hunh.

I showed him the figures yesterday of what I've been paying and what his share would be if we had an even close to being equal financial relationship. I showed him where, all things being equal, we were short every month and when we had a surplus, it was because I cut out things from my life. The figure floored him. He mentioned that he would have to work 32 hours a week to pay it and keep enough for himself. Well yes. It's almost like having a full time job.

I'm angry. I feel like I have worked my arse off for this family unit. I have done what I can financially. I have done what I can physically. I have done what I can emotionally.
And maybe I'd be less angry if I had felt that he had been really and honestly helping. Helping keeping costs down (ok, whenever I mentioned something the family could do he'd question whether or not we could afford it but if it came to going out with the boyz the money somehow was there eh?), helping with the housework (really it was like pulling teeth to get help and I would be made to feel bad and guilty just for asking), just plain ol' helping. Not making me feel like a jailer. The no fun zone queen.

Now I wonder if I should find a night shift job. Other single mom's do it. I can't bring myself to leaving the kids at home alone though. J mentioned, I'm sure in partial jest?, that welfare might be good for me because then I could spend my time writing.

I know that J will do what he can to support his kids. I'm not sure if his version of doing what he can will mean sacrificing his own wants. He admitted to me before time and time again that he came first. He was selfish. He was self absorbed.

I thought that we would both be able to work hard while enjoying our family. I thought we would be able to look back at the years spent together and one day be able to say 'hey, it was tough going for a while but we made it -- together.'

He wanted me to love him and accept him as he was and I did. I do. But I also wanted him to act and be grown up. To take responsibilty. Not only because it was the right thing to do. But because it was something he could take pride in. To actually make him feel better about himself.

But Tina Turner Had it Way Rougher

Well. Here I am. Single.
Hunh
Funny really.
I was doing the same things (pretty much) today as I usually do.
The ground didn't swallow me up.
I only felt a little like people could see my new and raw vulnerability. That I was a damaged good returned to vendor. Now placed on the discount shelf gathering dust.
How maudlin.
Took the kids to a beach today. There's a beach just down the road from where we live. A real beach. With sand. And lifeguards. And beautiful water (I'll assume it was tested and its bacteria count was low). Kids had fun. I had fun. I had wanted to go to this beach for the past couple years. I had always planned to go with J and the kids. Now that its just me...well...
I collected some of J's things today. I lost it for a bit when I found old valentine cards from J...all homemade. I have a few (at least) moments like these in my future I'm afraid.
Funny, looking back, that it was all a lie. I was living in a traditional loveless marriage. But that's not true either. There was love. There still is love.
I don't know what to do with his things. A big part of me wants to leave them where they are. They belong. They fit. Another part wants to just move on. Get it done. But...what's done? Why not just take some time to reflect? Do I have to make any decisions yet? Is it ok to wait?
I'll be seeing J tonight. He's looking forward to seeing the kids. I no longer have any allusions that he might want to be seeing me as well. I am, however, part of the package. We will be discussing stuff. The type of stuff that newly parted couples have to discuss. Kids. Finances. Things. Frankly, I'm not into any more drama. I cried enough in front of him. Sure there's the benefit that it makes him feel uncomfortable but geeesh. Enough already. My biggest challenge will be to not be too concerned over his welfare. Wondering how he'll get on. He's a big boy I know but ... why does it have to be messy? Why am I so confused still?
How does one turn off intimacy?

Council

Him: I don't love her anymore. did you ever? I have hated to come home for the past three years. and I liked being stuck at home? She is a control freak. are you ok with this hon? yes I am, you replied. She was suffocating me. was obviously using the wrong pillow. I didn't want to go out with her because I didn't like spending time with her. cuz I didn't act like a dude. Don't get me wrong...she's an amazing woman and great mother. ok...I agree with you here. I also give amazing head. The women in her family are crazy. check out the men they were with I don't usually drink that much. HA!!!!! She wouldn't let me alone. yup...always wanting more than 5 min. of attention per day. She kept control of all the finances. ummmm dude...do you blame me? Really? I tried to get him involved but ... It's all my fault though. i guess it could have been the water You see, I have been lying to her off and on for over 8 years. really? No wonder she didn't ever trust me completely. I never really wanted her to. ya I know he didn't say these things but really, he may as well have. I wouldn't talk to her about how I really felt. cuz that would be a grown up response. I had a brief affair during the summer I was on tour. I thought we had split up. When I visited Ottawa again, I realized we hadn't. ok...I thought that it was a one night stand and you realized you were wrong when you got to your flat and heard my message that night. I know there's a lie...once again, not sure where. I'm here to make sure she's okay. so he won't feel so guilty? I want to be her friend. really? what's changed. he hasn't really acted like a friend up to now. I love my job. this week My sister and I are getting closer. wasn't he ready to disown her last week? I miss the kids. this, I feel is true. I'm sorry. as am I

Me: Wahhhhhhhhhhhahhahahhhahhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa sniffle...snort...shake...occassional verbage

Post Session? Zee life...it does go on
And on
And on
and on

Happy Anniversary

Today is our wedding anniversary. Number 8. Gifts include pottery or bronze. Tomorrow is the first councilling session. I don't know what I am. I'm not single. I'm not married. I'm in a limbo land somewhere in between. I really do not have the words available to me to describe how much I miss him. Just knowing that he is there. His armpit. His crinkles. I ache. He didn't call yesterday. So be it. I have to let him be. Just be. I hope he's not focusing only on the bad. It makes it easier to leave if one does though. I've been trying to remember the good times. The best times. Last night I tried to come up with a list of my 5 best memories. In honour of us. Our life together so far.

1) After giving birth to our wonderful children, I woke up in the middle of the night to find him asleep beside me on the cot provided by the hospital. He looked exhausted but, funny enough, he looked content. We had both just been through a huge ordeal. We had succeeded together. Knowing that more ordeals were in our future. It was one of those moments that I felt we could get through anything.

2) One day he got it in his head to buy us a tent. A tent and a football. If ordered on line -- I think?-- a bonus fuzzy Canada flag hat came too. I was leary. Did we need a tent? A football? A fuzzy hat? The goods arrived. That night, he sat on the couch. Defending his decision. Defending his position. The football cradled in his arm. The hat on his head. It was beautiful.

3) Sometimes, when he kissed me, his hair would fall in a particular way taking my breath away. My god, I thought, and he loves ME.

4) One day, lying in the office of our old apartment, he was playing a computer game and I was lonely. I began whining in a squeaky voice: 'Gimme some lovin' ... Gimme some lovin' ... Listen to the ring of pow er' He finally broke up laughing and ran to me.

5) Although with work schedules and children it's been increasingly difficult to carve out time for each other (one of the biggest problems our relationship has I think) I remember one of those perfect days just before Christmas last year. We drove to Manotick and puttered through shops. He bought me a metal flower that stands in a rock. Watching him carry that rock and flower made me glow. We stopped at a cafe located in the middle of a parking lot and shared in some of the best pecan pie we had ever tasted. I was indescribably happy. We were together.

There are more good memories. Many more. There are also some bad ones but I don't want to dwell on those. Not today of all days. I love him.

Happy Anniversary J.

A Thing I Know

Things I know:



When I told J about not appreciating reading the message from a her he removed the possibility of that happening by removing the automatic log in on the computer. This only removes the possibility of me stumbling across more communications from her. The communication will continue. This I know.

Vomit

I'm up. It's early. 'J' came and went. Used the shower, changed his undies (left them in the laundry hamper?) and took off to work. Doesn't think he'll be 'back.' Not for a while. He hugged the kids in their sleep. He's kidding himself if he thinks that's anywhere near to being enough. Kids are missing him. But are being strong. 'A' didn't scream 'I want my daddy' for 2 hours last night like he did the night before. He actually came up to me yesterday afternoon and asked if I was sad about daddy. I said yes. He took my cheeks in my hands and said 'Please mommy, can you forget about him for awhile? Let's play!' Best advice I had heard all day. 'S' is desperate to have a happy outlook. She's strong but I see it whirling around her on the inside. If 'J' does come back he'll have a lot of repair work to do. Yesterday, 'A' spoke to 'J' briefly on the phone. After the call he said 'Blah Blah Blah. He was too quiet and I don't know what he said.' 'A' spoke to his Gramps on the phone and went on and on about their conversation. I have written out Gramps' phone # as well as 'J's' so that 'A' can call either any time. 'A' gave up on calling 'J' yesterday when he kept getting the message machine. 'A' is confused and angry. I told 'A' that his daddy was probably at work so couldn't answer the phone.

We went camping. 'J' came home on Wednesday morning after climbing on Tuesday afternoon and getting too stoned to come home that night. Although he was tired and crusty we had promised the kids a camping trip and after only 2 hours of prep work, we were on the road. We went to Achray in Algonquin. It was beautiful. 'J' was surly. 'J' was not happy to be there. On day 2 'J' was nic fitting and got mad at me when I mentioned that it might be a waste of gas to drive over an hour to the outpost to get cigarettes that I would have to pay for. I let him go. What choice did I have? Maybe he'd be more civil. Turns out it worked to an extent. Life at the camp ground became almost happy. The kids had fun. The kids and I went to the beach about 3 or 4 times per day. They loved it. 'A' no longer has any fear putting his face under water...he actually opened his eyes! He was also working hard at swimming by himself. J went on a solo hike. He had a nap in the tent. He came swimming twice. The food was good. I saw a golden eagle. I saw a fire fly. A chipmunk became our campsite friend. Mosquitos were fierce.

On the last night, J and I sat by the fire and talked. J told me that it did no good. He didn't love me. Was there anyone else I asked? What about her? What about her he said. There is no other her. Then he leaned over and kissed me. Not once but maybe twice or three times? Beautiful and soft. Tender and loving. I may be a fool but I know he still loves me. I need to hold on to that hope. I wonder about her though. It was May 28th when he first met up with her again. May 28th when I can, looking back, see a beginning slide to this point we are at now.
All in my head? My head is spinning. Maybe she was just a catalyst?

Driving home was ok...well, not really. S puked in car. Seems she get car sick just like I used to. I stopped for lunch a while later knowing she needed something in her belly. J snarked and snapped. I ran over a median. I blew a tire. J yelled and fumed. I tried to get J to call CAA but he wouldn't. He finally tossed the phone to me (I remember thinking that the reason he didn't want to use the phone was because the battery was low and he didn't want to miss out on more important calls) I took the kids and ran across the highway to a body shop and got some help. A wonderful man came over and helped. J hugged me then and apologized. We went in for lunch. Very good lunch. Drove home in the rain taking back roads. Roads we used to take when we would just go driving for fun.

When we got home, J cleaned the cat box and the kids and I emptied the car. I started the laundry. J went to a work site to get his tools. When he got back he leaned into the kitchen and said he'd be back. I carried on cleaning up after camping and finishing the laundry. I made dinner. J didn't come back until late last night (I heard him come in). He woke up early to shower and hugged the kids and left.

I have a pretty bad cold. My chest hurts and I cough a lot. I have a yeast infection. Wow. Seems that when my defenses are down they really plunge eh? I'm tired and wired. I'm in fight mode but, I don't know which way to turn. I feel that I am on my last legs here.

Maybe I'll be able to grap a quick snooze before the kids get up and we continue doing what we are doing. One day, I guess, it will become clear as to what this is.

Two minute break to wallow while the kidlings eat lunch and then back to being mommy

If I breathe in deeply, my chest begins to hurt. Shallow breaths make me light headed. Calm is impossible to achieve. I work at making this summer a good one for the wee ones. They are keeping me sane. They are keeping me from running. J wants to see a councillor. Yes. I agree. But. But. But. He has gone to work. Not called a councillor. And he has planned to go climbing. Again. No phone call. No council sought good or otherwise. We are going camping. As a family. A loosely phrased word but the kids are really looking forward to it. They know what's going on. 'A' is acting out. 'S' is withdrawing. I'm trying to keep it together. I have realized that I have been the one trying to keep things together for the past few years. I have been working. Alone. What will happen if I finally just let go? Give up? Throw in the proverbial towel as it were -- after, of course, I wash it and fold it and put it away. J told me once and many times that he would fight for me...for us. Really? I think about Othello, who 'threw a pearl away richer than all his tribe...'
I turn on the computer in the morning and find a post not yet read for J from a her. A her who wrote it late in the night wishing J a good morning and a good day at work. A her who, like it or not, is involved because this her is wishing J good mornings from afar and late at night. A time when J and I were lying together and not together. A her who knew that J was working today. And maybe J doesn't want to tell me about the contact because he wants to protect me. Maybe there isn't anything going on. But it still shows an intimacy that exists between J and a her. A her not me. And even though it was inadvertant--I just logged in not thinking of names...and this message from her popped up...this message benign and innocuous on the surface...this message wishing J a good morning and a good day at work--even though it was inadvertant I felt like the intruder. The voyeur. The one who didn't belong. The outsider. Just another cast off pearl.

A New Day

And just like that the clouds begin to part and beams of sun break through and the ground I'm standing on is solid and warm. I'm off for a small road trip with the kids. It'll be good. I'm looking forward to it. I'm not scared anymore -- well, not too scared...not as scared. J and I are talking. And holding. And accepting. And smiling. And loving.

Thanks for listening.

And so it goes

Yesterday we went for a drive as a family. Laughed. Giggled. Played. Went to the chocolate factory. All in all a great day. Except. Now there are exceptions. Big 'buts' (and I cannot lie). Territory has been marked out. Demarcations in the soil. Or is it sand? Home is no longer safe. Things can become uprooted within a moment's notice. Where I used to think that all would be fine and I could trust in tomorrow, I now have doubt. It's not insecurity. It's more like being unsecured. Unmoored. Ready to drift away... I am feeling, at present, a bit like a ghost. Only partially present. I'm doing my darnedest to see him. Does he see me? Is he trying like I am or is he putting in time. He said that he's come to the conclusion that I don't want him and that I would be happier with someone else. He said that he is ok with that as long as I am happy. I think that he should stop thinking and feeling for me and that he should give me a bit of credit. That is, if I wanted someone else, I'd go out and get someone else. When we first met, although we moved in together quickly and outwardly at least we looked like a couple, I really had no idea if he wanted me as a friend or something more. He was good at sending mixed signals. I feel like I've gone back in time. Not knowing. And now its worse because I can't trust myself. The day before yesterday I trusted my feelings. I knew my own heart. If everything around me, however, is in limbo and I find myself beginning to float, what can I really trust?

Shattered

Today is the first day of my summer vacation. It is the last chance as I can see it for the entire family to spend any vacation time together for awhile. The kids are in Grade One next year and daycare is done for them so, in theory, J and I would have to stagger our time offs to extend throughout the summer. This year, I've taken the kids out of daycare for the next three weeks so we can have a 'summer to remember.' It's not starting well. I have hope but it's pretty bleak. I don't know what to do. My family, my immediate family, is tearing apart. Falling apart works too. It's like I'm falling and tearing at the same time. Tearing and tearing cuz my eyes are flooded as well. I think back to last week. Was it last week? When J and I talked about camping. Going away for a weekend here and there. Perhaps renting a canoe. Saving up $$ by not going to PEI or elsewhere. $$ for a house. a new car for J. $$ for future trips abroad. We also discussed getting away together. Somewhere for just the two of us. A weekend. Even a night. I wish I could go back. Or forward enough to skip what I'm feeling now. Unravelled. Raw. So this is what a breaking heart feels like ...

Dialogue

Client: I would like to see c 27

Me: see c 27?

Client: That is correct.

Me: What is 'c'?

Client: 'C' stands for 'Cue'

Me: Could you say 'Q' instead?

Client: Fine. I would like to see c cue 27.

Me: ok. Here you go.

Client: What is this?

Me: Cue 27

Client: There are no lights.

Me: Cue 27 is a black out

Client: No it isn't.

Me: Yes it is.

Client: Where are the lights?

Me: Which lights do you want?

Client: Cue 27

Me: There are no lights in Cue 27.

Client: No lights?

Me: No lights. Do you want lights?

Client: I want c cue 27.

Me: This is what has been recorded for cue 27. We can change it if you want.

Client: No. Show me c cue 26.

Me: Here you go.

Client: This is what I want.

Me: ok

Client: In c cue 27.

Me: So I'll record cue 26 as cue 27.

Client: No. I want c cue 27 to be different.

Me: In what way?

Client: Darker

Me: How dark?

Client: Black

Me: So you want a black out?

Client: No. I don't want any lights.

Me: (going back to original cue 27) Like this?

Client: Perfect.

Home and Work

This morning, my son made breakfast for himself and his sister and also fed the cats before I made it downstairs. His self sufficiency amazes me. I love my kids. They are cool people. The other day, my son asked if I would like to sit with him, drink cappucino and just chat. Watching them each day as they navigate new social and physical challenges is awe inspiring. So much to learn. So much to do. And all of this is taken in stride albeit with the occasional, and very understandable, meltdown.

I had a rather grumpy weekend workwise. I feel myself becoming more crotchety and not able to suffer fools as easily in the past. I've found myself saying things like 'really that's not my problem that you lost a piece of your set' and 'no, I really don't care if your design included hanging lumber over cardboard supports, it's not going up on this stage' and 'dude (yup...I've taken to saying 'dude' way too much) I'm sorry that you didn't have enough time to program your cues but you had 8 hours and we're letting the audience in now so you're done.' (number of cues -- 53. number or cue repeats? -- 20)

Sometimes I feel my life being leached out from me and I'm left with a bitter, shrivelled lump of my former self.

All is better, however, when I get home! The kids keep me sane. J is awesome. He has quit smoking again -- heeding our daughter's advice to pretend that he never smoked in the first place. So far it's working.

The garden is growing well. Beans, cucumbers, carrots, beets, tomatoes, spinach and peppers. As well, we have a wack of herbs on the go. We have a gas barbecue and a freezer full of meat and we're set and ready for summer.

Treat the Patrons Well

The kidlings had their first stage performance for Ukrainian dance yesterday. Pictures will be forthcoming. It was strange being a parent in the audience and not having to be overly concerned with backstage shenanigans. I say overly concerned because since the recital was at my theatre I did have a vested interested in what was going on. That and it provided me with the vantage point of the theatre patron -- a perspective all too easily lost when one is focused primarily on the technical trappings of an event. All in all, it was a good show. I enjoyed the performances although it was a bit too long--17 dance numbers in ACT I! The kidlings did well. Really, how could they not? As soon as they got on the stage the audience exuded a collective 'awwwwwww' and the kids didn't fail in their abilities to be uber cute. As a patron, it was nice to not have to deal with the 'kid urinating in the lobby' incident (although I did secretly rejoice that it wasn't one of mine while simultaneously thinking about the poor parents whose child it was). Nor did I need to attempt to pull people back into the theatre after a lengthy intermission. Although I squirmed inwardly when the main drapes opened partially, then closed, then opened a bit more, then closed, curtain warmers came up again, curtain warmers came down....big pause....curtains finally opened all the way all at the top of the show but, the audience was forgiving and applauded the resolution of this mishap. It's a good thing when the audience is on side. It's sometimes easy to forget how important the audience is. When the music gets going the dancers not only respond to the beat, they respond to the energy coming from those watching. During a couple numbers, the synthesis between performer and patron was not there and it left me feeling a bit cool to what was going on. I became a witness, not a participant. During other numbers, however, I could sense my entire body tingling as I was drawn into the performance. It's not about getting bums into seats when one is putting on a show. One has to get bums willing to participate. One has to ensure that the performance has the necessary elements to draw people in. Easier said then done to be sure but, I sense that the idea that the audience must be included doesn't come into play often enough when one is planning for a production. The audience tends to be an afterthought and when it is thought about, it tends to be resented. Yes, the audience does hold a lot of power. In order for a show to succeed, it has to be seen. This power, however, is harnessed during the best performances by those on stage and behind the scenes to create something larger and more undefinable then any rehearsal can produce. Treat the patrons well.

Too Dreadful to Imagine

One of my stafflings lost his keys to the office.
Another of my stafflings is as green as the spring grass. Sweet but driving me up the wall.
Another of my stafflings almost died today as he stepped on a piece of the ceiling -- stepped? tripped? doesn't matter -- and a 4' x 8' section fell 20' down to the seats below approx. 8' from where I was standing. I saw his feet dangling and shouted 'get out of there.' He's ok. Thank God. Looks like we'll be getting a life line after all. The days of unrestricted beamwalking are over.
I'm not complaining.
I'm thankful.
So very very very thankful.

Happy Easter!

Just dropped the kids off at school. It's a rainy day. Looks like it will be a rainy week. Huge globby drops are falling out of the sky. Wondrous.

I managed to add more black earth and sheep dung onto my garden yesterday. The rain will work it in well and I'll be all set to plant next week. I'm going to plant the usual -- beans, beets, carrots and cucumbers. As well, I have decided to try peppers and a new concoction called red berry spinach. It claims to have yummy red berries and spinach all in one. A genetic mutation to be sure but what the heck, I've always fancied an extra eye.

I also planted more herbs around my back door. I love stepping outside to grab a few leaves for whatever culinary wonder is on the menu for the day. The kids tend to graze on them as well.

Have I ever mentioned that my kids crave fruit, veggies and fresh herbs? Candy is ok but apparently they have been known to squeal with delight when they open their lunches at school and find sliced cucumber or baby tomatoes. I really can't believe how quickly they are growing.

I am taking my Easter Holiday today. To celebrate, I think I will clean out the basement, make a good dinner (one that takes more then 15min prep time), and finish off a book and start another. It's not a hectic to do list at all. Perfect for a holiday.

Seeing Red

Our city is turning red. It began last year as a movement to show support for our troops in Afghanistan. Wearing red on Fridays was a visible demonstration of one's support, not necessarily in the war, but in the young women and men across the ocean who are fighting in it. The local dry cleaners promoted 50% off all red garments. I remember thinking that red was an odd colour. Weren't yellow roses more symbolic? To me, thinking of red at the same time as the war only brings to mind thoughts of blood spilled in the name of ???? and mental images of those poor sods who would never have the chance to make it back home.

Now, our city is pushing for more red as the Ottawa Senators advance even closer to the Stanley Cup. 'Let's paint the town red!' has become a battle cry. People are being encouraged to not only dress in red but to paint their cars and houses red too. Canada's lone team in the playoffs is fighting the good fight. The honourable fight. One isn't a true Canadian if one doesn't jump onto this particular bandwagon. The Stanley Cup even made a trip to Afghanistan somehow linking the work being done by the troops with the accomplishments of the players making up what has been recently dubbed Canada's Hockey Team.

Remember when red was a bad word? Images of evil commies worse than any Bogey man were conjured by that colour. Wasn't the saying 'better dead than red' a common truism? The liberal party resurrected the colour somewhat but after the many broken promises in the liberal red books, is it any wonder why the new liberal leader prefers to be known for the colour green?

Colours are evocative. I make a living mixing colours on stage. I play on people's emotions with the colours I choose. It worries me, however, how easy it is to get people riled up and ready to stand together behind one colour. One flag. One idea. The oversimplification of issues and the tendency to inflate ones emotional investment makes me tend to see red.

Red was bad.
Now red's good.

Two feet bad.
Four feet good.

There's No Business ...

8:23 am. Thursday. My call time at the theatre is 1pm today. It's very nice to have a morning off. I'm taking Friday and Saturday off as well. Precious time to start digging in my garden. The past week has flown by. I endured the worst show I've every been a part of late last week. Seriously bad. And that's saying something cuz I've had to work some real stinkers over the years. It's bad enough when people come in to the theatre with uppity diva like attitudes replete with a personal entourage. It's worse when the so called 'talent' sucks. Big time. Worse even still when the talent and management decide to blame the theatre for not having anti suck buttons linked to the consoles. It was a rough ride. Because it's busy in the city in terms of productions these days, I couldn't get enough crew so I was left running the lx. Lighting was the only thing that this particular group liked. I can wank with the best of them. I think this client group was just trying to suck up to me not realizing that if they criticized the rest of the space I would take it personally. Add to the mix an unhealthy relationship between the young singer and considerably older manager and you end up with a night of overall ick. Although I'll never get those 14+ hours back, at least I'm left with a recording that I can snicker at time and time again if ever I feel like I'm becoming undone. Throughout the show I couldn't figure out if the performer was more consistently flat or sharp. Yikes. At least it's over.
Another jazz recital and an ethnic dance performance (both quite good) and now we have young'uns on the stage in a production of Into the Woods. It's been a lazy set up with the designers taking their time but everything got done. The stage looks good. Next week something wicked will come as a production of Macbeth will grace our stage. I really love theatre. I also love the non theatre shows. Even the bad ones.

Aikido

I went to my first ever Aikido class yesterday. First martial arts class ever. I loved it. Seriously. My body took to it better than I thought it would. The foot movements remind me of a waltz. The rolls, which frankly terrified me when they were explained to me, are fun. I'm looking forward to improving and getting my body to move in different ways. I went because J went last week and thought that this might be something we could do together. Supervised fighting. I was skeptical but I love the stiffness in my back and arms this morning. Not sore but a good stiff that can be ironed out with slow stretches. I feel cat like. Luxurious. Hope this feeling doesn't end.

Follow the Signs

It's Monday and I have the day off. This follows a Sunday off. Yesterday was spent recovering. I lx'd a show on Saturday night with a Friday night rehearsal. It was harder than I thought to do my regular job and run the lights as well. It was fun though. I love lighting dance. Especially East Indian dance. The East Indian community here welcomes me and my ying yang personalities. When members of this group enter the theatre I feel in part that some of my extended family have arrived. We bitch, cajole, giggle, shout, laugh and most of all have fun as we create the magic that will be on stage. My legs are certainly feeling the many ladder rungs and stairs they climbed.

I'm very happy with my new mattress now. Had a bit of a rough start though.

On Friday night after the rehearsal, I asked my sound tech if she would like a ride to her car. She had parked on the other side of campus and I thought it would be safer (not that the campus isn't safe...but why take a chance eh?) We went to my jeep and the jeep wouldn't start. My wonderful jeep choked and sputtered and blew out oil from the tailpiped and tried to start. When I pumped the gas the engine roared to life but with no foot on the pedal the engine proceeded to stall. My audio tech and I then walked to where her car was and she gave me a ride home. The car she was driving was her grandmothers. A Mazda protege. Nice car. A car that I actually liked. Roomy. I asked her what she thought of it. She said it was fine. Best part about it? It started. Funny I said. Ha Ha.

I got home and was looking forward to passing out on my new bed (delivered that evening while I was at work). I went upstairs and saw that my bedside table lamp had a huge chunk removed from it. Grrrrrr. When J got home, he told me that the delivery folks had knocked it over and I should receive a phone call from the customer service people on Monday. Grrrr. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well what with the dead car, broken lamp, overtired and sore body and mattress that didn't feel right.

Next morning, I woke up and told J that I was going to get a new car that day. I went on line and found it. A Mazda 3 GT sport. Copper. My new car.

I packed a lunch and we took the kids for a picnic at the dealership. On the way, the first radio commericial that came on was for Mazda. Another sign. I had J and the kids eat on the grass in front of my car and then I took it for a test drive. The drive was moot. It was my car. One 1/2 hour later, I had signed on the dotted line. I'll be able to bring it home next week. What about the jeep you might ask? Well, the dealership will tow it away for me on Monday and then give me a further discount based on its trade in value. I feel a bit ruthless but, while I had fixed the jeep a couple times this is the first time that I felt let down by it. I was tired. It didn't start. It must go. Besides. The Mazda will sip gas rather than guzzle it. It handles beautifully. The kids like it. It doesn't smell funky -- the jeep was really beginning to get a stank going on that was a mixture of kid, mold, decay and plain ol' B.O. Plus, the Mazda has a powered sun roof and I dig the colour.

I have been splurging lately. Have I won the lottery? Nope. I've just decided to go further into debt. Seems to work for the Jones' . Besides, I had to follow the signs. Saturday was the day to get a car. I guess one could say that I run on impulse.

Sweet Supported Dreams

Our new mattress will arrive today between 5pm and 7pm. I'm excited. Really. It's a very swank mattress. A pillow top. J got himself a foam pillow as well. I personally want to choke down vomit when I think about how much mattresses cost but, we got a pretty good deal on this one. To those who think I should be spending my money on other things, like say travel, let me state for the record that our current mattress can no longer really be called firm support or even medium or light support. It has been providing no support. A very unsupportive mattress and sagging box spring. My hope is that the new mattress will take away my morning aches and pains and prove that they haven't been caused by my body's natural deterioration but are the fault of the mattress. I won't even think about my having had slept on a futon for over 10 years with no ill effects. Or that I have decided to get a blow up mattress for our tent this summer because the thought of sleeping on the ground makes me hurt even more. Every body deserves support.

Blue Skies Have Arrived

What a beautiful day! Spring has arrived. The temperature is a balmy 15 degrees C. It's finally time to put away the kids' snowpants, hats mitts and scarves. Time also to check and see if any of last years summer wardrobe will fit the kidlings. Probably not. They are getting huge. I think it's time I had a clothing upgrade as well. I may as well face it that my nearest and dearest haven't bothered to call up the folks from 'What Not to Wear' -- thanks a lot...you know who you are-- so I'm on my own. I really detest shopping for clothes. Well...that's not entirely true. On certain days when the moon is in the 4th quadrant of the sky and Mercury is in retrograde and I don't feel particularly bloated or rushed for time, I don't mind it. Otherwise, it's right up there with working backstage for 12 hour variety shows.

J has gone bouldering for the day. He's been chomping at the bit ever since the ice melted -- no more ice climbing -- and has wanted to get outside. It'll be good for him. Hope he takes some time to finish the dresser (a 'winter project') that's sitting down in the basement. Our one lowly Ikea dresser can barely hold the abundance of socks and crew shirts that are crammed in it on a daily basis. Ikea isn't really meant for heavy loads and I fear for its joints. I guess all building can wait for a bit tho.' Now's the time to get outside...enjoy the blue sky...have fun in the sun and all that.

A New Wind

It's April. It's not Paris. It's been snowing. The robins look pissed. I received my candles. They have wicks. They burn. Lightly scented. I have been burning one every night. Home Fires. Obligation. They smell nice.

Work has been busy. End of the fiscal year means cleaning out the surplus budget before it gets swallowed whole by the institution never to be seen again. Thing is, we're never sure how much of a surplus it is so we have to make several contingency plans outlining what we want to purchase based on a variety of possible figures. I like making purchases on the company visa. I feel like I have a god-like credit limit -- if any deity were actually fiscally savvy...or even interested for that matter.

Woke up this morning knowing that I wanted to buy a new mattress. Stiff back. Stiff neck. Achy everything else. After my morning shift--bodybuilders in the theatre--and after walking the kids to and from the public library--very cool that we live within walking distance--I convinced J that we should go and get a new mattress. We walked in the shop and commenced lying down on beds until we found the perfect one. The kids played in the corner with the toys supplied by the company. I felt very yuppie. Our new mattress will be delivered on Friday. Our old one will be carted away to charity.

My Christmas cactus is about to bloom again. Same goes for a potted mum J had bought me a year ago that I was about to leave for dead. The inside of our house is fertile and awaiting spring.

I think my jeep has a leak in its radiator. One hole got plugged with the replacement of a hose but now steam comes out of the front grille. I'm really not ready to get rid of the jeep. There are more fuel efficient, planet friendly vehicles out there--bike anyone?--but I like my jeep. It's not ready for the land fill yet. Hopefully I can find a mechanic who agrees and can get it working again without emptying my wallet. To be honest, the thought of getting another vehicle makes me tense. I don't want to buy a new car. I don't even want to look at new cars. I don't want to be saddled with a used car that breaks down. I don't like the look of any cars out there in my price range. I need a vehicle to get the kids to school and such. I want a vehicle because I like to drive. Fast and hard. I admit it. I quit smoking. Allow me this vice.

I keep feeling like something is going to happen. I feel jumpy. Out of sorts. Not upset. Just strange. Kind of in limbo. Waiting. I was thinking about my past lives. As an undergrad I wore a few hats: Historian. Musician. Dancer. Ethnomusicologist. Coffee Slinger. Theatre Technician. Lighting Designer. Music Teacher. I've left some of that behind. Each role a part of who I once was and who I've become (not really all that different). I have a past that I'm pretty fond of.

I have a sneaking suspicion that something new is about to loom over the horizon. A change is a brewing. At the moment, I'll settle for a change in the weather.

You Heard It Here First

Ok. This is my theory. Season 4 of Battlestar Gallactica will reveal that the entire story has been an imaginative fantasy coming from the mind of a young and challenged in some way 14 year old boy who is trying to come to grips with his love/addiction for computers, his need for human contact that makes sense and a desire to feel connected with something greater than his limited sensual world. How else to explain Jimi Hendrix, inconsistent character development -- especially among the women, and the siren like sex appeal of cylon Trish.

A Sucker Born

I was invited to and actually went to a candle party the other day. One of my 'new' neighbours put a card in my mailbox. (the neighbours moved in around Christmas...but since everyone bascially holes up here in winter, I hadn't a chance to actually meet them). I had no idea what a candle party was. I thought...hmmm...I like candles. My social calendar hasn't exactly been overflowing. What the heck. Should be fun.

I went.

So. In a nutshell. A candle party is a tupperware party but, instead of buying tupperware, one buys candles. (no, I've never attended a tupperware party. My mother went to one when I was quite young and still has some of the tupperware she bought then). Pretty candles. Nice smelling candles. Somewhat overpriced candles but, along with the candles, one can buy overpriced candle holders as well. Candle knick knacks of all shapes and sizes.

There was a short dvd presentation. I kid you not. The man on the tv was 'a scientist who's job is to ensure that these candles meet exacting specifications and are put through strenuous lab testing -- yup...these candles are lit and then watched to make sure they burn well. No beeswax I'm afraid but these parafin wax candles are made to burn clean.

My neighbour was the host of this shin dig. The food was good. Fresh veggies, crackers, cheese and shrimp. I spent my time checking out how the house was laid out. You see, their house is paired with mine and, as such, is an exact mirror image. Funny thing but to me, it looked completely different. My neighbours have 'grown up' furniture. It felt like I walked into a furniture store. Everything matched. They have a full size entertainment unit along one wall. They have matching dining room chairs. They have rugs.

Last year, a friend of mine commented on my bedroom saying that she was a bit freaked out cuz my bedroom reminded her of a parent's bedroom. Seeing how the house next door looks, I understand her sentiment. I asked J later what furniture store our stuff looked like it came from. Without batting an eye he replied 'the Sally-Ann.' It's hard to to make lifestyle comparisons. When all is said, however, I like my stuff. It's comfortable. It's home.

While my neighbour was the host, another woman was the seller. She passed out catalogues and made reference to various deals. She also mentioned that there would be another party in April for the men...because, as she said, 'just because you're a man who likes candles it doesn't mean that you are gay.' The men would, of course, be able to bring lady friends because...just because you're a man and like candles doesn't mean you are capable of choosing by yourself.

I was asked if I would like to host my own party. I replied that I really didn't know enough people to make it viable. She pressed on to suggest I invite people I work with. I looked at her and said that the technicians I worked with, complete with full body tatoos and biker goatees down to their chests probably wouldn't be interested...even though some are gay.

I ended up getting a bag of tea lights and a couple candles as well as 2 new candle holders. I didn't want to offend. I had eaten 6 shrimp. I do like candles.

Only cost about one hundred dollars.

I should be getting them within 30 days. I can hardly wait.

A Lifetime in 6 Hours

I've been spoiled. I've been thinking about 'the good 'ol days' when all I had to do was pick up the phone and voila, I'd have a coffee date, lunch date, walk date, doing laundry date or, just a hang around for the hell of it date with a good pal. It's funny how easy it was to take for granted. Life consisted of classes, work and hanging out. Even though I knew the classes would end, I never thought that the freedom to just hang out would go as well. It's not that I don't see folks. It's just that the freedom to just lay about and pick up the phone spur of the moment to arrange a meeting doesn't work out the way it used to. My closest friends no longer live in the same city as I do. Even if they did, the focus of my life--kids, partner, cats, home, work--takes up most of my 'free' time. When I have a moment removed from the above list, I crave aloneness more than company. A good book. A solitary walk. Still, thinking back to the many hours of banal yet stimulating conversations about everything and nothing, I find that I miss it. I wonder if I would have treated those times any differently had I known them to be so fleeting. I had the pleasure last year to spend 6 hours with a friend who now lives in a distant land. Memories and anecdotes seemed to flow effortlessly as we both caught up on our new lives and remembered our shared past. Funny. I used to spend 6 hours a day with this person at one point and didn't think twice. Did I take it for granted at the time? Yup. Funny how precious the last 6 hours were and how, in a mere 6 hours, a seeming lifetime was (re)lived.

Hot Water, Brandy & Honey

The weather is changing and that good ol' tingling in my nose and right eye can only signify one thing. Cold season is upon me. I shouldn't whinge too much. Colds for me don't really last that long (knock wood) and they tend to be more of an annoyance than anything else. Nonetheless, I'm quite pleased that I had the foresight to ensure that we had not one but two boxes of extra soft tissue (one box per floor) with which I can wipe my reddening nose.

The past week has been a good one. It's been March break for the kids and my mother has been in town. Lots of shopping, walking, talking, touring and playing. This could explain the oncoming onslaught of cold germs. My defenses have been slowly and steadily stripped away.

What is the difference between a germ and a virus anyway?

Tomorrow, I'll bring my mother to the airport, the kids will regain their playroom and life will go back to normal.

I'll also pick up a bottle of brandy. Can't hurt.

Short and Bitter Sweet

So I'm taking my dinner break at work. Yes, it's a Sunday. My dinner consists of 1 samosa and 2 muffins. I like it when clients leave food. When there is enough of it, I bag it and freeze it for quick on the fly snacks for staff. Two minutes in a microwave and voila! Cuisine. Today is frustrating. The client is whingy and slow. I'm not in the mood for their crap and am being a bit short. My staff is brilliant. God love em for being able to think when I can't.

Last night was supposedly 'date night.' Ahhh, the best laid plans. J and I were in tiff mode and so he basically left it up to me whether or not we were going. 'Well N, if you still want to go, we'll go. I'd like to stay home. I'm a bit tired and my feet are blistered, but if you want to go out, I'll arrange things.'
Translation? 'I didn't get a babysitter cuz I didn't know if we would be talking to each other. I went out the night before so I don't feel the urge to go out again but, I'll leave it up to you so that if we don't end up going out, you won't be able to blame me. Besides, we have beer here.'

This after a long set up for a show that eventually went into overtime (client happy, techs had no breaks

Yup. I'm still grumpy. Good thing the client deserves being bitched at. I couldn't guarantee a sweet disposition even if they were angels.

Tonight would be a good one for a couple pints chased with single malt.

Dinner Conversation

Am, at present, waiting for dinner to arrive. It was a long work day and Lebanese delivery should hit the spot. Speakers work and sound great. Found myself in the position of holding up a 6 000 lb genie lift for a bit. Yikes. Audio patch is working (never wasn't...turns out to be a staffing problem rather than gear). I got the order ready for the local theatre company. Many pipes. A few lights. No biggie. I put a cross and stained glass gobo on the back cyc and have two church like windows crossed as back light. This is all in honour of tomorrow's gospel variety show. My arms and legs arms are feeling stiff. A good stiff.

Dinner's here!

Dinner's done. Done like dinner. Yum. I love falafel. I feel like I've just bathed in garlic. J ordered enough to feed us for the entire weekend. Our family will be stinky but happily full.

J will be climbing tonight. Kinda funny/sad but he was stood up today. He had planned on going ice climbing today. His climbing partner was to rent the gear last night and pick him up at 7am this morning. That fact that a huge winter storm was set to hit us today did not factor into his plans. His buddy 'has a big truck,' said J. Neither did it register for J that his buddy hadn't called to confirm anything. 'He'll be there,' said J. I tried to prepare him but I love his faith. Well, turns out that his buddy had an after dinner nap last night and didn't rent the gear. Ended up emailing J and cancelling (J read the email at 5am this morning...having been up since 3 out of excitement and getting packed). I woke to a grumpy J (not completely unheard of in our household). He'll go bouldering tonight. Not even close to being as satisfying but will have to do.

The blizzard ended up hitting us big time. Lot's of snow. Rough going for awhile but it's beautiful now. Fresh.

Now it's time to have a cappaccino and sit back and read. Yes, I'm spoiled.

Incandescent Lightbulb Moon

So the committee in charge of voting on whether or not a 4% budgetary increase should be alloted to daycares voted yes. Hurrah. It's not a lot but, it is damned necessary. But lo. The actual city council finally drafted it's final budget. Nowhere in the document is this 4% increase to be found. It was agreed upon. But has now disappeared. Poof. Nice to know that our elected officials are on the ball.

I chaired my first meeting as president of the daycare the other day. I did well enough I suppose. Kept order. Kept to a schedule. Ended 1/2 earlier than planned. Less babbling. More deciding. More home time for all. I count that as a success.

Have finally signed the necessary papers to transfer the kidlings to a new school (one actually in our neighbourhood) for September. It's actually one of the top public schools in the city and up in the high percentile for the province. I'm a bit squeamish about the 'uppityness' of the neighbourhood. For those that know me, one of the gentry I isn't. It was a hard choice for me but, I decided to not let my anti snobbishness make me a reverse snob. The school is closer. Chances are the kidlings will now have friends close enough for visits. And hey. It has a chess club and choir. It does mean that J and I will need to juggle our work schedules around some in order to work around the school hours (no more daycare for us!) I think it will work out for the best though. Here's hoping. Weird that I'm thinking about September already...

'Romeo & Juliet' was a success. Now on to a few and sundry variety shows until the next show 'What the Butler Saw' by Orten roles in on Sunday. Tomorrow will be busy. The crossover in our stage left speakers needs replacing, gels need sorting, patch point at the audio console need checking and, if need be, fixin'. I have some new toys that I need to check out to make sure they work as well as some focus notes to work on. On top of that, I have a line check with the camera dudes who are recording Saturday's gospel variety night. I'm looking forward to it. I really don't work well at a desk for any length of time. I need ladders.

I also need books. I am currently relishing a book called 'Snow' by Orhan Pamuk (Nobel winning book). I picked it on a whim cuz it was a Turkish author and the title was Snow. No other reason really. It's wonderful. Thick. Multi-layered and satisfying. I'm also reading 'Bloodletting & Miraculous Cures' by Vincent Lam (this years Giller Prize winner). The difference between the 2 styles is telling. While Pamuk is thick and meaty, Lam's work is relatively lightweight. Lam's characters are somewhat 2 dimensional. Yes they are driven but the incidents in their lives that drive them are obvious. Kind of 'oh ya...that's why she's like that' as if any person can be defined by a single 'oh ya.' I'm enjoying Lam's book. It's just lighter. Quicker. With Pamuk I find myself rereading passages. Learning more about the characters and the world they inhabit with each pass. I guess that's why Pamuk is beside my bed while Lam is relegated to the toilet (not to be confused with shampoo bottle instructions).

I mentioned my love for the novel 'Snow' and its evident 'European-ness' to my boss. He's an English Lit grad and a good person with whom to prattle away the dull hours. He believes that the biggest problem with American lit is its inability to move beyond the notion of the failed 'American Dream.' All characters are situated within the parameters of and in relation to this dream and therefore are never really complete. Hmmm. I guess some Canadian works suffer from this intellectual solipsism...viewing characters in relation to an American counterpart (imagined or real). Canadian drama tends to suffer from unnecessary second acts. Playwrites don't seem to know when enough is enough. They state a case. Then they second guess it. Insecurity? But what they are trying to say is then hammered over and over again so that the viewers end up holding their heads and saying 'I get it! Make it stop. I get it!' Reminds me of an essay I once wrote about the treatment of Japanese Canadians during World War II. It began with various statements regarding the sun.

Australia has banned incandescent lightbulbs. California wants to follow suit. I've been humming Bob's Your Uncle this past week.

I Have Almonds

Way back when when I played guitar on a more regular basis, the group I studied/played with at university embarked on a small tour of Eastern and Northern Ontario. We were billeted along the way. At one of our destinations, the only other woman (I can't remember her name. I can only vaguely remember her profile and the look of her hands as she played) and I were dropped off at a very gingerbread looking cottage. It was quite lovely. Inside, we were taken up to our room complete with huge duvet covered bed and private shower. The woman who lived there told us that she tried to support the arts and young artists whenever possible. This room was done up specifically for those on tour.

When we awoke the next morning, we stepped outside of the room and found 2 steaming and freshly foamed cappuccinos along with a plate of fresh almonds. A note indicated that we were to enjoy this feast and that our benefactor had been, unfortunately, called away. The iron was in the closet if we wished to use it and would we mind locking the door as we left.

When the fellas came to pick us up, they looked a bit worse for wear. The had been billeted en mass at a house where their sleeping accommodations consisted of sleeping bags on the basement floor. We two girls looked at each other and smiled. Of course we mentioned how well we had been pampered. We rubbed it in. Our bed. Our shower. Fluffy towels. Good conversation. Ironed clothes. Cappuccino. And, Almonds.

To me, the highlight was the almonds. I felt, to a certain extent, that I had achieved another level. A glimpse into a world previously unknown to me. Future possibilities.

This morning, I'm having a cappuccino and enjoying a handful of almonds. It's bringing back memories of that tour. Of playing guitar. Of discovering new likes and dislikes. Of growing up.

Another Day, Another Anniversary

10 years ago today, I met the fella that I would eventually marry. It was my first shift at a new job and as I walked down the hallway to the office, I saw him squatting at the end as if to say ‘Here I am.’ His hair was draped over his eyes like a curtain and when he looked up at me, the curtain falling away, I began to stammer stuff about how I hated wearing boots because they made my feet itch. The first sparks of romance.

Throughout that first shift, I was backstage and he was in the lighting booth, we bantered and flirted (shamelessly on my part) over the head set. Already well practiced in the art of the sarcastic comeback, I recall firing back some statements that made first him and then our supervisor take off the headsets. Our supervisor, in the booth with J, turned to him and said “What a BITCH. She’ll fit in here just fine.”

At that time, I was a smoker and when the first break occurred, J and I went outside to indulge our habits. The wee lass who was also on the shift and was also flirting with J, not shamelessly, more pitifully, wasn’t a smoker. Too bad, so sad. Anyway, J and I began to talk and it turned out that one of my close friends used to date his sister. I saw J’s face close down as the mental calculations were being made. “That would make you…27?” he asked. “yup, how old are you?” “23.” I could feel the disappointment crashing around him. The funny thing was that I had very recently turned down the advances of a guy who too was 23 citing that I was not prepared to play the role of Mrs. Robinson. One may surmise that the BITCH moniker is well earned. I do have my moments.

After the shift, J asked me if I’d like a ride home. Once in his car, he asked where I lived. I exclaimed that he should take me out for beer instead. That said, with the sultry tones of the Violent Femmes blaring through the speakers, we took off. The car, according to J, was ‘shared’ between his mother and himself. We drove around from bank machine to bank machine. Finally, we stopped at a pub where J asked me to wait at the door as he had to talk to some folks. He went up to a booth and, during the ensuing conversation, complete with some heads popping up and turning to look at me and a few thumbs up, one of the fellas handed J a $20. J returned to me saying that the pitcher would be on him.

We talked. And talked. When the pitcher was finished, we went to my apartment and talked some more. At that time, my apartment was filled with my brother’s things. He had taken a trip around the world and I was left ‘babysitting’ his bookshelves, lined with bound classics and medical texts and a fantastic stereo system. I had Boddington’s Ale in the fridge and vodka in the freezer. Upon closer inspection, one would notice that I didn’t have much else in there but the odd condiment, but, to J, that meant that I spent most of my time eating out. He thought I was wealthy and he had met up with a potential ‘sugar mama.’ This illusion would last one evening at least.

That first night we talked until close to dawn. I remember asking J a question that made him cry. I remember singing songs and reading poetry by candle light. I remember feeling that he suited the stuff in the apartment that was mine. I remember wondering where, if anywhere, this would lead. That first night, we didn’t kiss. We hugged at one point which felt most strange by its not feeling strange at all. J went home and asked if we could meet up the next night after his shift. He would call me at 7pm.

The next night, at 7pm, J called. We went out. Two weeks later, he moved in. Two and a half years after that we got married. Our twins were born two years after that.

It’s hard to believe that we have known each other for 10 years. There have been great times and horrible times and all manner of times in between. Such is Life. Today could go either way. Like most days. J still hides behind curtains. I’m still a BITCH. Somehow, we muddle through.

Catching Up. Visually

Here is A. He was told to wait patiently while his daddy and I talked afterwhich his daddy would take him to Home Depot. After a bit of grown-up talking, we looked up and saw A sitting like this. Quiet. Sincere. Just waiting. Nearly broke my heart.

These are the wee ones on their first day of senior kindergarten. No, the flower isn't coming out of his head. It was our attempt at growing giant sunflowers. Turns out that they don't grow all that large without a lot of sun. And water. Who'd a thunk it?





This is the first day of Ukrainian Dance class.

This is my Girl!

Jungle Gym

Daddy's Girl

Here's S with her hat which came all the way from Nepal on the shoulders of a crazed woman.

Halloween. The moon and a star.

Dude

She Loves the Snow Too!


Today We are 5!

So this has been my life for the past few months. My real life. Whenever I start to wonder where the creativity is going in the world, and whether or not their is hope for the future, I am heartened by these two folk who honour me daily by sharing their secrets, showing me their treasures, telling me stories, making me pieces of art and, most of all, by allowing me to be their mom.

Where the Log Roller Learned to Step Lightly

Recently finished Richard's 'The Friends of Meager Fortune.' At times, cheeky and self referential. Also, a poignant description of a lost way of life. The Shanty Boys. The original Teamsters. Lumber barons. Log Rollers. Men who literally danced upon the water. The mythology surrounding these men fascinates me. Songs first heard on ships and then passed on to the forests with a few phrase changes speak of heroic deeds against impossible odds. The work was hard but much less romantic.

I see a similar mentality in the technical theatre world. Groups of guys and gals working in the trenches in order to help create something larger then themselves for which they will be given little if any credit. So they create a mythology for themselves. Riggers pit against audiophiles and electricians all looking down at the lowly box pusher. These folks are the last? of the independents. Working when called to complete the impossible in record time then off to the next gig. Freelancers. Bosses are short term. Loyalty is important...for as long as the run. Many a beer is drunk while stories over 20years old are told as if they happened yesterday to/about people well-known. The oral tradition continues.

Although new technologies are moving in on theatres world wide, there are those who hold on to the old ways-craft- much like the characters Richard's describes. Unions too are becoming more common. The Teamsters are cited as being partially to blame for the end of the lumber industry as it was once known. Are technical unions doing the same to theatre? Is it inevitable? Where will this type of industry be found once more?

My thoughts are scattered. I'm going to have to think about this some more. And sing me some shanty boy songs!

Getting Older

My children are now 5 years old! I'm amazed. They are wonderful, outspoken, intelligent, kind, a bit weird and fascinating people who challenge and are challenged by the world each day. It's a true pleasure to be a part of their world and I am humbled by the realization that they are an integral part of my life.

I am now back to work after a wonderful holiday. Work is slow. This suits me fine. It'll soon turn the corner and be crazy busy again.

I have a pain in my neck. Just before Christmas I slept funny (S had a nightmare and came to snuggle). The kink progressed until I couldn't really move it without painful effort. I finally called for a physio appointment. They can see me tomorrow. My neck is also finally starting to feel better. It's still rather stiff and a bit sore though so I'd like to make sure that I didn't damage it in anyway. Screw plastic surgery! Age spots and wrinkles don't suck. Sore joints do!!

On the kids' birthday I realized something. Not only do I have my own birthdays to help keep track of my ticking mortality clock. I have these two gaffers as well. Their birthdays seem to come around more often then mine as well. Funny how life works sometimes.

Time to sit back and whinge about my neck (same thing as taking time to smell the roses you know...)

Merry Christmas to All

Hello and Warm Greetings. Today is Christmas Eve. Our family celebrates Christmas on this day--it's a Finn thing. In a couple of hours, I'll get started on the turkey and cassaroles do a final clean up of the house and fill the candy and nut dishes. Santa is scheduled to arrive some time this afternoon (although Santa sent an early package from Hong Kong that was specially delivered to our door yesterday--cool).

When J's mom first witnessed how we celebrated she thought it a bit cruel. You see, Santa comes in the afternoon and the kids get to see the presents and overfilled stockings. The kids are then told that they have to wait until after dinner before they can open a single thing. Dinner always takes a long time to arrive. 'Mom....it's taking forever!' Tortuous anticipation.

The family (the regular home dwellers + gramma) then sit and eat and eat and eat. When I was a kid, my dad would insist on eating seconds and then thirds. After dinner, he would excuse himself to the washroom and we would be forced to wait. Inwardly we'd groan when we noticed him leave with a magazine. Now, J does the honours. He doesn't go to the loo...but he will eat a huge amount of food. Then I'll say something like 'maybe we should just do the dishes now and get it over with ' to a chorus of 'noooooooooo's.' I love tradition.

Gifts are opened one at a time so that everyone can see what has been received and appreciate the gift. This also extends the evening. Cookies and coffee come next. Then the wee ones are packed into bed.

The next morning, the kids are left to play and the grown ups sleep in until noon.

Very civilized.

I love it.

Fa La La La La

I sometimes wish I had better stories to tell. Then I chastise myself because the stories are all around. My arse is just too lazy to put them down and out there. Cheers to all the lazy arses out there! I am humbled to be numbered among them.

It's warm outside. Too warm. Yet, not warm enough to dampen my Christmas spirit. I'm filled with Ho Ho this year. Our tree is up. Real of course. I can't have Christmas without one. It only knocked over once. Our male cat was going through one of his feral moments and spooked himself (he really is a putz). J was out and I picked it up and proceeded to try to restraighten it from below at the stand. After about 20 minutes I realized that I was having no luck, the tree stand sucked and I couldn't move from beneath the tree without it falling again. The wee ones thought that my predicament was funny. Ha Ha. I called for #1 son to get me the phone. He did after much cajoling, threatening, pleading and the like. Then the girl asked for some milk. "I'm kinda busy sweetie." "But I want some now!" "Suck it up princess, Mommy is stuck under this tree and if you don't want her to pull a scrooge you'll get your own milk." "But I can't reach the cups...Can I have a candy instead?" Sigh. J tried to hide his amusement on the phone -- ok...he didn't really. He laughed out loud and told me he'd get home soon. Soon came, and I was rescued with no other damage then a slightly stiff chest and a mildly bruised ego.

I love real Christmas trees.

I've also baked this year. The final list is:

2 batches of Swedish jam cookies
1 batch of Snickerdoodles (a cookie with a stupid name but a great taste)
1 batch of oatmeal macaroons
1 batch of creamcheese, mini marshmallow, chocolate balls
1 batch of rosebud cookies (basically a peanut butter cookie with a hershey's kiss in the centre)
1 tray of pineapple squares
1 batch of pecan shortbread cookies
1 lemon pound cake
1 Finnish spice cake

Yup. Sometimes I am superwoman! J finally finished the bookshelves that enable me to finally unpack the rest of my books. I finished them a bit in the basement (sand, light varnish, polish with rotton stone). I love finishing wood. Sometimes, I think I could give up the rest of my career type stuff and spend my life finishing furniture. I'm also pretty sure that I'd go nuts after a short while but, it's fun to have an alternate life plan.

I went shopping with J today. My favourite part? Walking up and down the street poking around in shops that are doing their best to lure in pedestrian traffic (at one place, we got tea!). Didn't buy a lot but found some meaningful gifts (hope so anyway!).

Least favourite part? going to the toystore in one of this city's many malls and breathing in the frenzy of greed. I have recently watched a program that showed some pirhanas going after a fish. I was reminded of those nasty fish when I watched as folks, smelling fear I guess, swarmed the poor sods working the aisles as they searched for this year's 'must haves.'

We left relatively unscathed with some books and some hotwheels. Some things never go out of style. Our girl has requested from Santa a Barbie this year. I'm torn. I hope I can find the least offensive type out there. But, then again, compared to the Bratz whores, Barbie is pretty tame.

Tomorrow should be a good day. J and I are going to wander through the market. I haven't been there in a very long time. Years? Maybe. I'm looking forward to the walk. To see what's changed and what's stayed the same. Kinda like looking at myself through a mirror made up of memories and the here and now.