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.

Green Alligators

I've been thinking about the Irish Rovers recently. Thank you G. Specifically, The Unicorn Song.

The lyrics were written by children's author Shel Silverstein and the song was made famous by the Irish Rovers. I remember their television show with fondness. Am I dating myself?

I was unable to get a clip of them singing the song but, found a version sung by Brobdingnagian Bards. They altered the ending in order to make it 'happier.'

I'm not in favour of the Disneyfication of children's stories. The Little Mermaid is supposed to turn into sea foam. The Little Match Girl dies. Wendy grows up and Puff the Magic Dragon disappears into his cave.

If the endings are all happy, what tools are we giving our children to handle any sadness or trauma? What about the terrible beauty that exists in life? The joyous ache of the bittersweet?

Here is a copy of the lyrics as I love and remember them. If you want the 'happy' ending, listen here.

A long time ago, when the Earth was green

There was more kinds of animals than you've ever seen

They'd run around free while the Earth was being born

And the loveliest of all was the unicorn

There was green alligators and long-necked geese

Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees

Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born

The loveliest of all was the unicorn

The Lord seen some sinning and it gave Him pain
And He says, "Stand back, I'm going to make it rain"
He says, "Hey Noah, I'll tell you what to do
Build me a floating zoo, and take some of those...

Green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born
Don't you forget My unicorns

Old Noah was there to answer the call
He finished up making the ark just as the rain started to fall
He marched the animals two by two
And he called out as they came through Hey Lord,

I've got green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Some cats and rats and elephants, but Lord, I'm so forlorn
I just can't find no unicorns"

And Noah looked out through the driving rain
Them unicorns were hiding, playing silly games
Kicking and splashing while the rain was falling
Oh, them silly unicorns

There was green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Noah cried, "Close the door because the rain is falling
And we just can't wait for no unicorns"

The ark started moving, it drifted with the tide
The unicorns looked up from the rocks and they cried
And the waters came down and sort of floated them away
That's why you never see unicorns to this very day

You'll see green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born
You're never gonna see no unicorns

Spam Spam Spam Spam Spam

My email inbox has been inundated of late with spam. I know. I'm not the only one. I have been luckier than most I guess.

My penis enlargement, breast enhancement, please send money to me so that I can escape Nigerian exile and in return I'll give to you a veritable fortune spam emails have been few and far between.

I even have been so bold as to scoff and mock those less fortunate than I. They, thought I, must not know how to properly block these unwanted nuisances. Although I have had no clue as to how to perform such 'blocks' I believed, nonetheless, that what I was doing was right and what they were doing was obviously wrong.

Until recently that is. Now, my email gets a healthy dose of spam. Between 10 and 20 messages everyday. Each message is thematically linked. Each with a seemingly nasty intent. To question my sense of well being.

What is the message?

Lose Weight Now. Use herbs, drugs and surgery to get rid of all those unwanted pounds. If that fails, try acupuncture or hypnotism. There seem to be more ways to lose unwanted poundage than there are to put them on. That I am receiving these messages at a time when I actually feel pretty good about myself -- I have lost approximately 25 lbs this past year through, go figure, eating a healthy diet and partaking in exercise -- the timing of this particular flood of spam is oddly ironic. I don't know why I have been suddenly blessed with these messages obsessed with my weight and welfare. Perhaps I should say thank you?

What would McLuhan say?

Village People

There is snow on the ground and there are fresh chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen. December came in with a storm. A little icy for my liking but, the temperature dropped and the snow came so I won't complain.

The kids had 'playdates' yesterday. A 4 year old boy with his 8 year old sister came over for 3 1/2 hours. We made cookies, did art, started a band and they made a fort, railway station and played cars upstairs. No casualties and only a couple tears shed. A success.

I chaired the annual AGM for the kids' daycare the other day. A bit nerve wracking since I have never done this before and I was asked to do this the night before. It went well. I'll be on the board next year as well. I hope to do my bit and try to get more support for not for profit day care centres. It really does take a village to raise children. We are all responsible and should begin taking our responsibilities seriously. Our new mayor was quoted saying that it wasn't his problem that people have children and don't know what to do with them. Looks like there will be a lot of work needed to be done.

Today is dance class for the kids. They have fun. I enjoy having a mandatory coffee break while they are dancing. Funny how it only takes a few weeks for a tradition to be created. I am a fan of tradition. 'Fiddler on the Roof' is a favourite of mine. It's set in a village.

A Christmas Wish List

It's just a regular workday.

This is not November weather. This sucks. It's rainy. It's mild. The world around me seems mouldy. Yuck. My son races to the window every morning looking to see if he can wear snowpants yet. No such luck.

End of November. Today's high is set to be 10C. Tomorrow, it's going to shoot for 16C.

I want cold air to freeze my nose hairs together. I want my eyelashes to feel moist as they freeze and thaw with every breath I take. I want wind burn on my cheeks and a slight numbness in my finger tips.

I want to shovel snow. Really. I do.

I want to watch as my kids make snow angels. I want to once again decide whether or not this will be the year I learn to skate.

I want to have an excuse to wear my swanky new down filled coat.

I want winter. In all it's glory. I'm a Northern Ontario girl. I'm not from the west coast. I want snow.

I want to feel all snuggly warm when I get into bed and have the tip of my nose cold to touch. I want hot cocoa and homemade slippers.

I want to sit on the couch and watch the flakes dancing in the wind outside of my living room window.

I want to see the cats snoring away as they lie atop the floor rads.

I want to wear colourful scarves and mits and hats. I want to spin around outside and catch snowflakes on my tongue.

I want my kids to know winter as I have known it. And to love it just as much.

Child's Play

Imagine if you will my two kids at play. The boy is holding a batman figurine. The girl is holding a female figurine that has a transparent body. I'm sure she is a character. I just don't know what her name is. The dialogue is as follows:

Batman: You can hit me as hard as you can but when I turn grey, I can't feel anything.

Transparent Girl: But when I hug you, you can feel my love.

Batman: I turn grey and fight the bad guys. Hieeeee ya!

Transparent Girl: My body can turn invisible and you can go right through me. Be right inside me.

Batman: I'm going to go with spiderman and get some bad guys.

Transparent Girl joined by Red Headed Troll Girl: Go Batman! Go Spiderman!

Spiderman: My webs aren't very sticky.

Red Headed Troll Girl: You can make them stickier. I know you can.

Spiderman: Yes I can!!

My son: Why are you laughing mommy?

Why indeed?

The Sky is Falling

I've been having the strangest craving for brie, cranberry and pine nut sandwiches lately.

Funny.

I've also been overcome with ... it's hard to explain really ... well, on the other hand, it's simplistically easy ... I've been overcome with beauty. In the sense put forward by Keats...truth being beauty and vice versa. I was driving along when I noticed the sky and how beautiful it was. Grey clouds perfectly spaced. A bird flying into just the right spot. Then I noticed the busyness of the traffic around me and how it too was beautiful and how it contrasted with the seeming stillness of the sky. Then the sky moved ... clouds raced, wind blew the trees and the busyness around me seemed to trade places with the heavens above and I was left with a stillness inside. Peace.

Then the radio began to play a U2 track and I began to think about Bono and how celebrities are gaining influence in our world. I wondered. If I knew that someone was listening, what would I say?

Reality check. We have a new mayor. A 'good ol' boy.' It was one of those elections that left me with a visceral reaction...nausea. It's hard not to feel that I'm on the wrong side of the fence. I think it might hurt more because I made a conscious decision to be less passive. That it didn't make a difference this time won't make me change back. I don't like certain trends I'm witnessing. I heard today that people with landed immigrant status who in years past were allowed to vote in municipal elections were pulled on mass off of this year's voters lists with no warning. People showed up to vote and were turned away.

The school board is looking, once again, at instituting full day alternate day kindergarten in order to save money from school buses...never mind the wee kids having to be in school all day. Never mind the parents who will have to look for alternate day child care. Never mind that the smaller child care centres will be forced to close leaving the parents with even fewer choices. Never mind.

I'm looking forward to seeing blue sky.

Happy Halloween

Just got back from trick or treating. It's great fun. It's too close to call the difference in enjoyment between now and when I was wee. Watching my little star and moon race up to the doors and get into the spirit of all things spooky makes me want to both laugh and cry. The ache in my chest is still here. How did I get so lucky? The costumes were a success. I'm quite proud. They got many comments tonight on how good they looked. One part creativity, one part access to a costume cellar, one part plain ol' stubborness and voila. The kids totally raked in the goods this year too. It's totally a chocolate year! The houses in my neighbourhood are gorgeous. I love being able to step close enough to peek. Most of the homes are even more grand on the inside. Polished hardwood and stone everywhere complimented by well placed and chosen bric a brac. Wonder when I'll be grown up enough to be able to move into a house like that? Maybe one day. But for now, I like where I'm at. Time to make an attempt to bring the star and moon down a bit from their sugar/excitement high. I think that before I do that, I'll join them a bit. Chocolate anyone?

All the Time in the World (well...at least an extra hour anyway)

November can be felt early this year. The leaves have been pretty much all blown off the trees. The skies are more grey than blue. The wind has developed a razor's edge. Today is the return of standard time. Traditionally, this has been my favourite day of the year. A part of me feels that I have slipped the wool over someone's eyes. Somehow gotten away with something. I have an extra hour! I can spend the day controlling time! I usually don't change any clocks today either. I like to look at the time and think 'oh...it's such and such a time' followed immediately with 'it's an hour earlier! yay!' This was a particularly good tactic when I had assignments/essays due. I would revel in the luxury of the extra hour. It still makes me giddy. Yes. I'm a wild child. I know that the time change makes the world seem darker. Nevertheless, I love this season. It is unpredictable. In a state of constant motion. Change. That it is dark when I leave in the morning and return home in the evening just seems to make the at home time cozier. Despite the wildness of outside, our home is safe. Warm. Halloween is in 2 days. The boy wants to be a twinkle little star. The girl wants to be a moon. I've made a date to go into the basement and have some fun with cardboard, glitter and spray glue. I recently heard a statistic stating that only 5% of costumes are home made anymore. I like coming up with costumes. I'm not very crafty and my ideas don't ever turn out the way they exist in my mind but, the costumes work and, it's important for the kids to put their imaginations into it eh? J has been very busy with work lately. All money in the bank. (I kinda wish that this saying were actually more true...in fact it should read more like 'it's all money in the pit we call personal debt-- oh well). My work place has been hopping. On Friday was my first day off in 16 days. I'm off today as well. I feel thoroughly spoiled. What will I do today? This day of days? This 25 hour day? Same as any other Sunday I guess. Just more of the same.

Take Me Down

It is a strange world indeed. I'm off to work tomorrow. Thank the gods. I like time off. I do, however, go a bit stir crazy. My closets are clean. My drawers are in order. Most of the dust bunnies have retreated. I've killed a multitude of spiders. No guilt...I have bites from the night. It's raining yet again. Connection? I spoke with an old friend. Funny how history rewrites itself. What happened is not what actually happened. Even though I was there...I should know...I was unaware of what was really going on. Hmmm. But, says I, I was not wrong! My memory is still good. Isn't it? Maybe not. Maybe I should just accept the new reality that states that what happened really doesn't matter. All that matters is what people:

1) perceive as having had happened, and;
2) want to have happened.

These become what happened. No wonder sociology is on the rise and the historian is taking an academic back seat. Could I be any more vague? Possibly? Doubtful.

I was in the car with J today. Driving in the rain. I was thinking about Leonard Cohen. I saw a documentary recently about the woman who inspired his song 'Suzanne.' She's living in a truck in California now. A 'free spirit.' It was a sad documentary. Her meeting with Cohen was brief. Her attachment to him continues today. He left her behind. Down by the river. She spoke of a time when they met up many years after their first meeting. He said 'thanks for the song.' I wonder if she let the river answer?

Books and Birds

Happy Thanksgiving!! Mine was very nice. I worked Saturday and Sunday (the Sunday show wasn't as bad as I thought...they never really are...) and I made the bird and fixins' yesterday. J's mom and her border came as well as my brother D. The kids were brilliant. The bird was fantastic. Today I'm going through drawers and closets getting caught up on odds and sods. I'll be back at work on Thursday...'there's no business like show business.'

Speaking of shows...J took me to see a performance of 'The Wrong Son' ... I really really enjoyed it. Based in film noire format and performed as a musical...complete with full jazz band (fantastic musicians)...with the dialogue done in jazz recitative. Trap doors raised and lowered revealing and hiding people and things. It's been a long time since I have seen a show this good. Strong voices...strong writing...strong acting...strong tech...I only wish I could have seen it more than once. The bittersweet joy of live theatre.

The other day I told J that I was craving a book...actually I told him that I was jonesin' for one. He got up and took off to the bookstore and picked up 'The River of the Broken Hearted' ... J said that it was no big deal...he'd go and get me a burger if I had a craving...why not a book? Who says that romance is dead. I just might have fallen in love all over again.

Rainy Day Meandering

It's a rainy day. I have the morning off. As soon as the load of laundry in the basement is dry and has been put away I will head off to work. It was nice to be able to sleep in this morning. J called me a little after 10am to wake me up. Actually, he called to say that he was in the basement picking up a tool for a job he's working on and didn't want to freak me out if I happened to wake up and hear strange noises. It's good that he did this. Have I ever mentioned my over active imagination before? I hope the rain doesn't knock down all the leaves. It's supposed to be sunny for the rest of the weak. I love autumn and this year seems even more vibrant than ever before. Perhaps because I am really in the mood for fall. I have always liked this season. I feel more alive. As vibrant as the leaves. Last weekend, J travelled to my home town in order to pick up a saw from my dad. The kids and I went to the experimental farm (very very cool!), had lunch at a wood burning pizza joint and then saw a live butterfly exhibit at the university. It was a very good weekend overall. J ended up talking with my dad and getting loaded until around 2:30am! I'm glad that they finally got a chance to swap stories. Good for the both of them. Next weekend is Thanksgiving. For the first time in my grown up memory, we will be celebrating/eating on the Monday and not the Sunday. I am booked to work on both Saturday and Sunday. My bitterness about this is dissipating. Unfortunately, it's not a show that I'm too fond of. Ah well. That's life. My brother D will be coming on the Monday. I'm looking forward to it as are the kidlings. I also plan on taking Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday off. Maybe I could race off to Montreal on the Tuesday for a visit. We'll see. To those of you I love who are too far away...big hugs and lots of love!!! If you are in the neighbourhood, drop by. There are always leftovers!

My Girl

The other day I was driving home after having had picked up the kids from school. The girl began to tell me about her day and said that their class had talked about what they wanted to be when they grew up. She was confused about something. 'No one said that they wanted to be a dad when they grew up,' she said and continued, 'and I was the only one who wanted to be a mom.' Huh. My girl wants babies and to be a mom. Might I also add here that she is one of the smartest/wisest people I have had the pleasure to meet. Her observations never cease to challenge and amaze me. She went on to say that she also wants to work on films and make films for children to watch. Very cool. She then began to badger her brother and try to convince him that he should want to be a dad. The boy wasn't easily convinced. He too wanted to work on films but as a zoom boom operater. When told that his dad drives a zoom boom on occasion he demured and said that yes, he wanted to be a dad...as long as he could still drive cool stuff. Ok. I'm not entirely sure where the girl's decision to be a mom has come from. J and I have each told the kidlings that our most important jobs are that of parents...but I feel that something else is at play here. She sees being a mom as something valuable...special even. Huh. Well, it is. Her views are just different from my experience. I never ever felt that I wanted to be a mom when I was younger. Hell, the whole mom thing came to me, I guess, as an inevitability...one thing flowing to the other...much like leaving home to go to university. It was never a decision per se. It was something that I just did. Hmmm...when I actually explore this a bit further, I've never really wanted to 'be' anything. I am what I am. (sorry popeye) There are a few things that I'd like to 'do' but my deeds aren't really who I am. But, would I be going on like this if the girl had said she wanted to be a doctor? I doubt it. Last year, she had told me that she wanted to be a doctor when she got older. I asked her about that old world view. She replied...'on no mummy. I would need a lot of training and you know? some of that training would be very gross...looking into people's stomachs...ewwwwwww.' That's my girl.

It coulda been another type of story

The other night I received a strange phone call. A woman with a thick Eastern European accent spoke to me about a survey that I might have done and a prize worth over $100 that I could receive and was my husband home? J was 'out.' I was pissed off at him at that particular second and was waiting for him to get home so I could tear a strip off him for getting me pissed off in the first place. So I told the woman, very sweetly I might add, that 'no, my husband was not home but would be home very shortly.' 'Good,' the woman responded. Someone will come by to my door and give me a prize, after I had had a chance to look at, and comment on, a product they were going to show me. The only caveat was that my husband needed to be home. I hung up the phone and wondered what exactly had I agreed to. I called J and told him to hurry home because a stranger was coming to our door and he needed to be there. Now, J is not a stupid man. Knowing full well that I was pissed and knowing full well that he had a full pint in front of him and knowing full well that I wanted him home, to his credit, he didn't think I was lying. He told me that he was on his way. You see, in J's particular state, he believed that our house was being cased by burglars and that if he didn't get home quickly, something quite terrible might happen. My hero. Unfortunately, he passed on his concerns to me and, with my imagination, I began to believe that something quite terrible not only might happen, its occurence was unavoidable. I could feel my pulse begin to race.

I should take a brief moment to explain my heightened paranoia. I have always had a wicked imagination. When I first started working at the theatre, one of my shifts was an evening look after the office and answer phones type thing. I was bored so I began to snoop. Openning the bottom drawer of one filing cabinet revealed a chain saw ... covered in a red gooey partially dried substance. Blood!!! I freaked. I phoned J (whom I had met only 2 weeks before) and told him about my grisly find. Using a tone that hid his amusement very well (our relationship was young and he didn't want to blow it) he informed me that chainsaw oil was red. I was embarrassed. I told my boss the next day who got a kick out of my thinking him to be some warped killer. Especially when he reminded me that it was an electric chainsaw and he could only kill folks who stayed withing range of the ac cable. Before you get any ideas...I'm not dumb....just imaginative ok?

Back to the phone call. J made it home and, although a bit pie eyed, was ready to face any would be intruder. For a bit, I forgot about the phone call completely as I remembered, once again, why I was pissed off at him. I started getting into my beratement. Then there came a soft knock on our front door. I pushed J to the door to open it. I stepped back around the corner. The open door revealed a young man carrying a large box. 'Are you expecting me?' he asked. 'Come in out of the rain,' said J. Yes. It was also a dark and rainy night. The fellow then proceeded to empty the contents of the box and put together a vacuum. Well, not a vacuum cuz 'the technology is so different that we aren't allowed, by law, to call it a vacuum.' Sigh. It was our first ever door to door vacuum cleaner salesman!!! We called the kids down to watch. A jumped immediately into the box and proceeded to ask a thousand and one questions. S looked and quickly got bored. She's started reading and nothing will hold her attention for long unless it has a lot of letters. The fellow did a good job of trying to sell the machine. I had him clean the couch and our front room curtains. I also asked him to do the floor by the cat box...I had to see how well this machine picked up kitty litter. Suffice it to say, we did not buy this amazing machine. Even at its discounted price of $2100.00 (although, at one point, J actually asked the fellow to step outside so we could discuss it...this is probably why the woman who called said that the husband should be home...J has little will power when it comes to machines with space station plastic parts). J and I received coupons redeemable for 2 weekends away at a hotel. It might be legit. I might not. I don't mind though. I got my living room cleaned and J was home before 3am. All's well that ends well.

Fact or Fiction?

I've been reading a lot lately. Fiction. Stories. My mother isn't a fan of fiction. I remember my entry into the adult world of reading via the public library. My mother brought me through Dr. Seuss, the Freddy the Pig detective series and the Black Stallion books. After these, it was time for biographies and real life historical novels. I read about American slavery, the Canadian fur trade and the concentration camps of World War II. To my mom, the real stories were more relevant than fiction. They could teach one more about the world. My mom could draw. She can draw. Very well. Although she is blind as a sightless cat when her glasses are off, she can transform the blur she sees while looking at a pile of dirty laundry into a tigress nursing it's babe. She doesn't explore her art though. Well, that's not entirely true. She can reorganize furniture and plants so a plain room is made into a designer's dream. Growing up I remember my room being rearranged at least twice a month. Her landscaping abilities are incredible as well. Her art is used as a utility. It's a tool. She likes things to be pretty. Done. Real. I am drawn to mess. Rebellion? My cupboards and drawers are in a constant limbo between order and chaos. I want things to be neat but I get satisfaction when things are in disarray. Dust bunnies are allowed under my beds. I don't wash walls and ceilings twice a year (once every 2 if I'm lucky). I like curling up and tuning out the world around me as I read. Other worlds. Fictional worlds. Worlds that really do teach one about real life. And art.

Picking Berries

Home again. Good trip. Met a fox as I was walking to the toilets at 3am--I'm not a fan of tenting when my bladder is weak. It backed up and let me pass. Licked itself as I walked by. Somewhat telling in an I'm not sure how way. So J and I watched 'Crash' last night. Not the Canadian sex flick but this year's esteemed Oscar winner. Good film. Loved it. Dragged a wee bit at the end as story lines were tied up in neat bows but overall, I thought it quite powerful. Not only as a discussion of race but of gender as well. Although not the primary focus of the film, I found it very interesting to see how the roles held by women in this film illustrated how intolerance affects them in manners unique to them. Assumptions and stereotypes abounded in this film and it did a good job of illustrating just how complicated issues surrounding individual power dynamics are. It was also disturbing in that the film effectively held up a mirror to the viewers. We are all complicent to some extent. Shamefully, I can look back only to last week. Driving home, I was on the look out for blueberries being sold by the road. I love wild blueberries. I began to get impatient with J. He kept driving by various road side stands seemingly oblivious. When I mentioned it, he stopped at the very next car he saw. I got out of the car and noticed an east Indian gentleman with 2 baskets for sale. I was grumpy at J for stopping at the very next car...not seeming to care where we stopped...to me, finding the right blueberry stand is an art. But, that's not really an excuse for me not buying this man's berries. I made an immediate assumption based on no fact that this man didn't pick them fresh himself....that he didn't need the money...that he wasn't a part of the 'blueberry culture.' The best berries are picked in the morning. I also like to buy berries from people who, I feel, do this every year to supplement their incomes. This man wasn't dressed for picking. He didn't 'look the part.' After I thought all this, I noticed that his berries didn't look all that good anyway. I told him no, got in the car and grumped to J to keep driving. My grumpiness compounded by my not wanting to face up to my own behaviour. I hadn't liked the look of this man's berries but, I felt that I would have said no to these berries regardless. We ended up getting berries at the next stop (lucky for us cuz it was the last stand on the highway). I'd like to say that the berries were bitter sweet but, they were amazing. As blueberries should be. Fresh picked and perfect. I feel that I got the right berries. I just don't like the fact that I brought up other issues into not choosing the first berries...when all I had to think was 'no, these berries don't look good enough.' Sometimes looking in the mirror is a difficult thing to do.