mlle. h. bean

happy valentine's day

2012-02-14T07:15:00.003-04:00

This morning as I fed the cats I noticed the bowl is a heart shape. Perfect for today, the day to celebrate love. And, awwwww, who doesn't love cute kitties??

I woke at 6 when Adam did. I got up and made his coffee and sandwich, as I do every morning. Well, OK, more like every morning I want to get up and do that. But, I know it helps him when I do and plus I get to have a little bit of time with him in the morning, and I like that.

I wrote him a note with a Sharpie - "Will you be my Valentine?" - and tucked it in his lunchbag. "You have a secret note," I said, "And you can't read it until you eat your lunch." "OK, dear," he said. He kissed me and went off to work.

***

Show your love for artists: check out LINKwithlove's initiative today to spur change on Pinterest. LINKwithlove's mission is to promote responsible linking, so that artists and other people who create intellectual property get recognition for their work. It might not seem like a big deal, but it can really cause problems for artists when their work is used, modified and sold without their permission. All you have to do today is repin an image to your Pinterest, and that image should be up on the LINKwithlove page soon.

***

Also, on a silly note, this is one of my favorite songs, by Outkast. It's called "Happy Valentine's Day." Enjoy!

yellow

2012-02-06T13:45:00.001-04:00

Apparently Blogger has its own opinions about the correct way to display a photo. It will only upload this photo oriented this way, rather than horizontally as I'd intended. Lord knows why and life's too short to frig around with it much longer.

Eggs thoroughly scrambled and about to be cooked.

Again, Blogger has its own ideas about proper orientation of my photos. Gah.

I was coming down the stairs the other day and saw a sweater Mum had left draped over this chair. The greeny-yellows made me stop and take notice. I loved the light coming in through the window.

Not long after, I was making scrambled eggs and the eggs were a crazy bright yellow, being farm-fresh and all. I snapped a shot of them too. Two pictures of yellow things just made me want to find a third yellow thing to shoot, so I scouted around the house until I saw the soap bars in the bathroom window. "They'll do," I thought.

And then of course having this particular colour as a theme reminded me of Coldplay's song "Yellow", their first big hit. (Look it up on YouTube if you're not familiar, or even if you are, it's worth it.) I remember being a teenager, listening to Definitely Not the Opera on CBC on a little stereo in my tiny bedroom at my father's cabin, doing some journal writing. It was winter, a Saturday afternoon. The host played that song and I wrote the name of the band down in my journal. She said they were big in the UK but still unheard of, mostly, here in North America. (That's not really an interesting story, I realize. But I cherish the memory because of the coziness and because of how much that album came to mean to me, later.)

Of note: I've started another blog. It's called Dream Big Cape Breton. Please check it out! Where this blog is my personal story, and more for free-form creative writing about random things, Dream Big CB is about being a young person living in Cape Breton, and the challenges to living here year-round. I do interviews with other young people and am also researching the history of the island. I've got lots of ideas for the months to come! I hope you take a look at it and enjoy.

Oh and one more thing: I have new, young neighbours who are awesome! That's always cause for celebration but get this, they are also writers! And one of them writes a food blog, called The Bite House! (That's a lot of exclamation points. OK, I'll calm down now.)

beats

2012-01-25T10:39:00.001-04:00

Life is beats. Heartbeats, literally. You ever put your hand on your heart and just feel it? We do that in yoga, after opening our arms wide over our heads. Faye says, "fold your hands in prayer over heart center". "Say thank you."

Thanks to the beats. To the heartbeats. It's too bad that "heartbeat" is so cliche as a term, in poetry, or wherever. Because it can be really powerful, for such a quiet, day-to-day little noise. (Even typing out "heartbeat" I feel like I'm writing a bad teen novel from the eighties.)

These pictures above are from My Life, Lately. Literally, actually - this past weekend. I got off the Internet - a whole weekend without checking email, checking Facebook, reading blogs, looking things up. None, at all. It was tough - every hour I'd think I should just break down and do it. But, I didn't. And it was really, really good. Liberating. Inspired by this book - The Winter of Our Disconnect. I think it's the most important book of our generation, of this time. We are saturated, just soaked through, with media. We need to see it, we need to stop and step back and consider.(Please do check it out.)

I went for a walk - went and saw the snow, the sunshine, the shadows across. Felt cool outside air. It was marvellous.

I also stopped in to Value Village at one point. Checked out the tape section. My car has a tape deck, and I am too lazy and too cheap to bother upgrading it to anything more technologically modern. I mean, between my box of tapes and CBC Radio, I'm pretty happy. So I love that Value Village sells tapes for 69 cents. Usually the selection is poor, but sometimes you luck out. Paul Simon's album Graceland! I snapped that up. Also Dolly Parton, Alison Krauss, Sade, and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. All for under 6 dollars.

Lately I'm finding other kinds of beats really inspiring - Rihanna and Kanye West. I put their music on, loud if possible, and it gets me super pumped. To run or walk, to create, to do mundane tasks like dishes or cleaning the bathroom.

What about you? What are your block-rockin beats?

reaping

2012-01-18T09:43:00.003-04:00

"You reap what you sow."

I wrote that on a little piece of graph paper and tacked it to my bulletin board, a few months ago. It's such an overused phrase, we don't really think about it. But, you do reap what you sow - it's inevitable that you harvest full-grown plants, the ripe fruits, the juicy tomatoes, of the seeds that you took the time to plant in the ground, to care for, to water, to weed. You reap, what you sow.

So, sow now. It's never too late.

Five years ago, I went into a downward spiral. Life was collapsing around me, my energy plummeted, my mood fell, my relationship ended, I left school. I moved home. It was the dead of winter in Cape Breton. I had no idea what would become of me. I felt like I might never come out of this.

But all that time I was sowing seeds. I sought counselling. I worked to heal myself. I walked, and walked, and walked. And wrote and wrote. And used a shitty situation to do only things that I loved. If I didn't love it, if it didn't make me feel good, I didn't do it. I explored old and new interests. Obsessively read typography blogs. Wrote poems and started a writers' group. Walked, walked, walked.

Flash forward five years. (Five years!!! May I just say, holy freaking crap. That's a lot of time. It feels like it just went by in a snap.) And, I'm reaping. My arms are full of delicious, ripe, beautiful fruit. I can feel that I'm so much stronger, and so much more in touch with who I am and what is good for me. And what isn't.

And yet, I'm still sowing. I'm looking forward. I'm tilling new beds, preparing them for new crops. That little piece of graph paper on my bulletin board with a hand-written phrase guides me. It reminds me not to expect benefits right away. It reminds me that sowing is important, a part of the process, and that reaping does follow.

The picture on top: the school I'm applying to. The Graphic Design program. I would start in the fall. My portfolio is nearly done and my application goes in this week. I've spent time in the classroom with them and I absolutely love it. The instructor feels confident that I'll get in, but still, you never know, so fingers crossed!

The picture in the middle: the paper cutter at Wendy's. She is a local graphic designer who has graciously agreed to let me intern with her this winter. I spent a day there already and I absolutely love it. Cutting posters down to size, talking websites and images and logos and art. Love it.

The picture at the bottom: Wendy has a mirror on her ceiling. How cool is that? So I took a self-portrait in it. To me it says: Frame your life with attractive frames, and believe you're worth it. View yourself from unexpected angles. But most of all, have fun.

portland

2012-01-10T09:11:00.002-04:00

OK, enough with the melancholia. I watched 'Jane Eyre' and that sort of took care of the sadness quotient around here. So much moodiness and melodrama! So many "what is it Sebastian, I'm arranging matches?" sort of scenes. (That's a reference to Eddie Izzard, by the way. A comedian. Look him up.)

These are some of my favorite pictures from our trip. Two of five are of food - that means something. It means, we like food.

Onwards with 2012. Onwards with winter. Things are bubbling and brewing, and I hope to have some interesting tales in the months to come...

fear, sometimes

2012-01-07T13:03:00.002-04:00

So we're seven days into the new year.

I know I wanted to post pictures of my trip to Portland, and write about the fun we had there, and show you all the delights we discovered, but somehow I'm not in the mood.

Ever since arriving home and having to put the holidays away - having to wrap them up and put them back in the box, and adjust back to routine life, I've been feeling all over the place. Fear. Sadness. Loneliness.

Is it fatigue making me cry at the drop of a hat? Or the birth control pill? One never knows where these feelings completely originate. Much like a river. Is it that little brook, or that one? They all join together eventually and form a river, one you don't argue with.

All I know is, I'm here. This moment is real too. The light coming in the bedroom window, my own bed with just me in it, the snow on the yard that I've seen a thousand times.

Now that it's January, I'm no longer employed. Well, I have things I'm doing - I tell people when I run into them at the grocery store. I do, I do. I'm busy. I'm useful to society. I've got boards I sit on and projects I'm working on. But, I'm laid off for a few months. I didn't think it was going to feel like it does. I was looking forward to it, to tell you the truth! Time off, time to do my own thing. Now it's here and I'm like, overwhelmed. With these big projects I want to accomplish, in the next three months, and feeling like they'll never get done. With time and space to sleep in, and wanting to, and yet feeling guilty for doing it.

And, I don't want to dwell on it too much. I write a bit, like this, or in my journal or in an email, and then something in me goes "OK! Get up and dance!" and I put on some Paul Simon and move my body around. Meld yoga poses and rhythm into a dance. FEEL my physical body. When I get too much up in my head, that's when I need to feel my physical body. Feel these arms, legs, belly, all these giddy human cells that make up ME.

"Love is eternal sacred light..." (From Paul Simon's newest album.)

I guess part of it is that the things I have planned for the next three months are all about being bold, being creative, being strong. Putting myself out there, believing in myself. And sometimes I don't believe in myself. That's when being alone sucks, because there is nothing and no-one to distract me from that fact. That fear that I will be exposed as a complete fraud.

(I know enough now to know that every creative person feels this way from time to time. I know I am not a fraud.)

And the Internet can feel so fast, so speedy. Like there is no time for reflection. Like you've got to be Breaking News! all the time if you want any attention at all. If you want to make your mark. And there is so much out there, so much news and scary stories and things to be afraid of. I can't take it, sometimes.

Well, I want to make my mark on the world. But the world sometimes exhausts me. Sometimes I want to spend days and days walking along a country road, all by myself, yet at the same time I don't want that at all, I want my boyfriend to cuddle me and tell me everything is going to be all right. But he can't always be there. Sometimes I need to look out at that snowy yard, all by myself. Whether I like it or not.

How are you feeling now that the confetti's been swept away and you're back in your rhythm?

happy new year!

2012-01-06T19:20:00.003-04:00

Back in Canada after being in the USA. Pictures soon. This weekend?

all that glitters

2011-12-23T08:51:00.003-04:00

It's that time of year again.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year."

Or, something like that!

It's the end of the year. Kal Barteski says it really well: "The last few days have been exhausting. The packing + holiday preparations and busy small people and working-late-husband and long nights in my studio coupled with a baby-who-is-making-nights-longer have been taking their toll. And I'm trying to coffee through because THIS IS MY FAVOURITE PART OF THE YEAR. That last 10 days. The part where we take inventory and deep breaths and the whole year sort of floods back while we are too busy to simmer with it. I love these days. I get so sentimental and I've decided that's okay. I am going to wallow + back float + starfish + soak it up. Because this is the push. This is the finish line. This is the BURST of awesome before 2011 is a chapter closed and we are fresh in a new adventure."

Me too, me too. This IS my favourite part of the year. I love taking inventory of the year-that-was. I love looking ahead to a whole new year, a whole new block of time that will be filled by great things. I love that work takes a back seat and family and loved ones and oneself step up to the front. As do: snowflakes, ornaments, glitter, gifts, sweet things, delicious things, hugs, smiles, and movies on TV. It's their time to shine.

However, despite how much of a Christmas-ite I might sound like, let it be noted that this time last year I was really not feeling any of this glitter and love. It was raining non-stop, so the yards were sodden and grassy, the lake had risen, which felt apocalyptic, and the chimney was flooding my basement bedroom with water that smelled strongly of creosote. I felt really low in energy and in spirit. Christmas felt like a charade - all these lights up and people saying "Merry Christmas" and parties and all that, and none of it rang true with me, at all. I let myself lay low, and let Christmas roll over me like a wave I didn't want to catch.

So, if you're not into it, I get that. It's OK too.

A whole year has gone by. A really really good year. I've met an amazing man who is my support, my "Zen master", my challenger, my sweetie. "He meets my toes with his," as a friend said. I've also continued my yoga practice with some amazing women who feel at times like the best possible interpretation of the word "coven". Yoga has brought me to myself, my physical body, my inner self. In life in general, I can feel my deep roots pushing growth upward, outward.

I'm excited for 2012. See you there!

***

Here is the year-end questionnaire. I like it. I do it for myself and send it to a circle of close friends. Do with it what you will. It's a fun way to take inventory of the year that just was.

1.What did you do in 2011 that you'd never done before?
2.Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
4.Did anyone close to you die?
5.What countries did you visit?
6.What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
7.What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
8.What was your biggest achievement of the year?
9.What was your biggest failure?
10.Did you suffer illness or injury?
11.What was the best thing you bought?
12.Whose behaviour merited celebration?
13.Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
14.Where did most of your money go?
15.What events did you get really, really, really excited about?
16.What song will always remind you of 2011?
17.Compared to this time last year, are you:
i.happier or sadder?
ii.thinner or fatter?
iii.richer or poorer?
18.What do you wish you'd done more of?
19.What do you wish you'd done less of?
20.How will you be spending Christmas?
21.Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?
22.Did you fall in love in 2011?
23. How many one-night stands?
24. What was your favorite TV program?
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
26. What was the best book you read?
27. What was your greatest musical discovery or rediscovery?
28. What did you want and get?
29. What did you want and not get?
30. What were your favorite films of this year?
31.What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?
34. What kept you sane?
35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most/least?
36. What political issue stirred you the most?
37. Whom did you miss?
38. Who were the best new people you met?
39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011:
40. What are your plans for 2012?

christmas is a'comin

2011-12-19T21:45:00.005-04:00

Yeah, this month is flying by!

Woo!

It's been a good one so far. Some snow, for scenery. Getting ready for the Holidays is going well... I have my eight or so Christmas presents bought, and ready to be wrapped. I want to get creative with the wrapping this year - read, I'm being cheap! But no, really. I'm talking stamps and ink on Kraft paper, and fun things with ribbon, pipe cleaners, whatever. I'm going to do a tour of the house and see what fun stuff I can scare up.

There will be pictures soon. I'm talking scenes of: baking with a friend, a dinner party by candlelight, decorations at the marina, new thrift-shop finds (yes! a Christmas sweater, my first ever, and definitely not the last - this is one item I can definitely collect over time), and lights lights lights. This time of year, for me, is all about lights in the darkness.

They can be twinkle lights, or it can be each others' lights, our brightness and our beaming smiles.

This time of year, for me, is also all about reflection backwards and forwards. Looking back to the year that was, and thinking to the year ahead. I'm sappy that way, I guess!

In 2012 I want to find:

places to get rid of most of my possessions. At least, the extraneous ones. I want to be more of a minimalist - or, as Adam put it succinctly - "Bring less shit." He was talking about the bags of clothes I usually take to his place on the weekends. When usually I only need a pair of sweatpants.
really amazing people on this island, doing really amazing things. And I want to find all the places possible to tell those stories to other people, both on the island and off of it.
a fantastic apartment in Sydney if I end up going back to school. Maybe the second floor of an older home, with high ceilings, a fireplace (doesn't actually have to be functional), and wooden floors. Yup, dream big alright!

Oh and check out my Pinterest "Christmas" board to see my yuletide inspiration.

Pictures sometime this week. Enjoy each other!

air in, air out

2011-12-11T00:09:00.001-04:00

Do you ever notice whether or not you hold your breath, and when?

I hold my breath - or, breathe really shallowly - when I'm browsing the Internet. Considering how much time I spend online, that's a lot of shallow breathing, which apparently isn't good for you.

I read somewhere once that this phenemenon of "breath apnea" is because of how the Internet works - we click on things, then wait for them to open up. Our human brains, which haven't had time to adapt to this speedy technology, go "ooh! must hold breath because this next thing I'm about to click on is important! Tension, suspense!" Especially as the time between click and open has gotten much shorter, and so we click a lot more and feel the need to keep close tabs on the action that's taking place on the screen, people have developed the habit of dealing with this stressful activity (even if you're on Facebook or browsing pleasurable sites) by breathing very shallow.

I also noticed yesterday that when I'm driving I tend to breathe shallowly, too. I don't relax and enjoy the drive, but instead I frequently check the clock, checking to make sure I'm on time or if I'm late, by how much. Annoyed with myself for not being on time, and let's be honest, that's most of the time these days. (Oi, and I haven't even got kids to blame it on.)

So I'm trying to breathe deeper. Focus on the fact that my lungs are taking in oxygen and letting out carbon dioxide. (Or is it carbon monoxide? Oi, can't remember. And, too lazy to Google. That's pretty bad, isn't it? To be too lazy to Google? Then again, maybe it's a self-protective measure. Guarding my fragile wee brain from the onslaught of information out there.)

"Rest in the breath." My good friend, my intuition, stuck that in my head last week. As in, use the breath as a place to rest. Rest my mind from all the jibber-jabber that's out there. Breathe in, breathe out. Ahhhh...

***

In other news... I put on the old black dress pants, the old white shirt, the old tie, and hoisted trays tonight as a server at a local conference center. I haven't worked as a server in a month or so, which was super nice, I'll be honest. To have that break. To just work one job. But, one shift wouldn't kill me, so I thought, and I was right.

Serving makes me nervous, though. Up until I walk in the door and start it, and then I'm too busy to care. And also I realize (over and over again, yup, apparently that's how I'm wired) that I'm actually good at it. That I don't have to be nervous because I'm not going to mess up.

I'm glad I'm doing it, though. Glad I took on the part-time job this fall, and tested myself. Proved to myself that I'm good at it. So many young folks work minimum-wage service jobs, especially here on Cape Breton. I think it's an important part of the puzzle, when looking at why young people leave here. Or what it's like to be here, and try to make ends meet with several jobs. What it's like to work your butt off, smiling the whole time, being nice to people who can really treat you like crap, day in, day out, for minimum wage, doing split shifts.

(Mind you, I only did it evenings for 3 nights a week in the off season. And, you can have some really awesome tables, and customers, and that's what makes it fun.)

r-e-s-p-e-c-t, right?

2011-12-08T11:04:00.001-04:00

Rain rain! Go away!

Well, that's not going to happen.

Apparently we're experiencing a "weather bomb". What is that? Is it a made-up term? I don't understand. It's a storm, right? Why are we rebranding storms? Why is the weather suddenly war-like?

Well, I suppose it's not all that sudden. Thor, and the Greek gods, and such.

All I know is, the rain and wind are kind of attacking the big windows here at work. No breakages yet but it feels a bit like being at a museum and looking out onto a "rainstorm" exhibit. Experiencing it but not really wet. Hearing the wind whooshing, hearing the rain splashing down onto the gravel drive, seeing it all come up against the big windows, but dry and warm inside.

Right now: listening to the "She & Him" Christmas album. I bought it at Fred's Record Store in St John's, Newfoundland. (What what!) If you like your Christmas music styled, classy, clever and cute, this is the record for you.

Thinking about: being more respectful of musician's rights. Not downloading any more music for free (unless that's what the artist wants - like Radiohead or Old Man Luedecke). This springs from a conversation I had with a friend in St John's, about why it is we feel that we have the right to just take art from artists, when it comes to music. We don't feel the same about paintings, or other work. (Well, maybe graphic design on the internet - which is where Link with Love comes in.) But with music we feel we have the right to just go ahead and download it for free. Steal it, essentially.

I don't feel overly the same when it comes to big Hollywood movies. Or big pop stars like Rihanna. (Whose music I like, yep!) But other musicians, I think I'm going to make it a New Year's Resolution that starts right now - buy the album. No more burning. No more free downloads.

Yeah, I'll have less new music. For sure. But, I'll appreciate it more.

Where do you weigh in on the topic?

my life in the last two weeks, sort of

2011-11-30T12:36:00.001-04:00

Lately I've been craving Brussels' sprouts. Probably because two bloggers I read very regularly are also obsessing with the green round veggie everyone else loves to hate - the bloggers are Elise Blaha and Food Coma. So I got myself some and did them up a la Gwyneth Paltrow's recipe (on the Food Coma blog). They were just as delicious as I had anticipated. Crunchy, tender, flavorful, cruciferous. Wait, is that a word? I suddenly think it isn't, which is bad news, since I've been using it and sounding smart. Hmm. Must do some more research.

From Wikipedia: "Although named after the city in Belgium, few historians believe the plant originated there." I love this - it makes me imagine the few historians that DO believe the plant originated there. They're pretty fierce in their beliefs, despite the lack of evidence.

These dogs belong to the fellow holding their leash. I was driving out of town on my way to Antigonish ( a two hour drive) and spotted him, hitchhiking. I don't usually pick up hitchhikers. But I had a completely empty car and he looked nice. He also had a guitar on his back. I drove past him., since, you know, he was probably a rapist and murderer, then intuition said "turn around". So I did. (I've been listening to intuition a lot lately. It seems to know what it's talking about.) Turned out he was visiting his mother in Baddeck, a woman I happen to know, and we talked animatedly all the way to Antigonish. His dogs were lovely. And he even had a sleeping mat he rolled out on the backseat so their mud and fur wouldn't get all over the seat. Considerate!

Another day, I went picking beach glass with my boyfriend's Mom. She knew of a beach that was supposed to be "just loaded" with it. Sundays are usually very chilled out at Adam's - meaning, couch time and football on TV and not a lot of natural light - and I needed to get outside and do something, so I went with her. We indeed found a lot of beach glass. I also found some lovely photos to take.

This is Maggie, my step-dog.

Then we got a big dump of snow. In the morning I went to the front door with the cats. It's pretty amusing to watch these intrepid, furry, little animals attempt to navigate deep snow with any dignity.

The snow sure made work look pretty! This is the marina where I work, lit up at 5 pm. (Goodness it gets dark early these days.) Those are the Christmas decorations I did, in the window. Bring it on, Christmas retail season! Bring it on.

One last thing: if you like good music, then check out this video of Jenn Grant on Q performing the song "How I Met You", which has been stuck in my head the last little while. Plus you get to see Jian Ghomeshi, and that's rarely a bad thing.

dreaming big

2011-11-25T21:32:00.001-04:00

Winter here, lately! We had a big snowstorm this past week. I got caught without snow tires. I parked my car down at the neighbour's and it is still there, with a mushroom cap of snow. I plan to shovel it out tomorrow morning. It just seemed easier for the last couple of days to get a ride in to work with my neighbour, and be an hour late for work. Hey, it's the slow season. I don't mind if my bosses don't. And, I don't think they do.

Snow is still around, though the weather folks keep predicting it will melt soon. That white, sparkly, frosty look on everything. I do love it. Yes, it switches things up. We have to get someone with a snowplow to come do the driveway, or else shovel it ourselves. We've got to drive slower and dress warmer. But, I do love it. That fresh coldness. That wet dryness coming down through the air.

My computer which died in Fogo is still dead. I'm working on it. I'm getting a trained person to work on it, actually. Until it's fixed I'm borrowing a computer from my boyfriend. It's small, one of those tiny notebook sort of things. Hard to get used to the smaller keyboard with my giant hands. OK, normal-sized hands, but still.

Other lately: I launched my "Dream Big - Cape Breton" project. And by that I mean I created a Facebook page and added a bunch of people to it. This project has been in development since the summer, when I read an editorial in The Victoria Standard (our local paper, we live in Victoria County, Nova Scotia) about young people leaving the island. It got me all fired up and I pitched a column to the editor of the paper.

I also talked about it with all the young people I hung out with all summer. And now that there is a Facebook page I'm getting all sorts of good feedback.

The project is part journalism, part personal journey. I'm doing research (read: reading) on Cape Breton's history. And I'm setting up interviews with folks all over the island to talk about dreaming big for Cape Breton's future. What makes this place so awesome? What makes it a great place to live? What are the obstacles that cause people, especially young folk, to move away, and what can we do about it?

I see it as a group project done by an individual. If that makes sense. I see it as me listening, listening, listening, then reporting about what I've heard. Bringing voices together.

new, found, land

2011-11-18T15:41:00.001-04:00

I love that the map of the island is everywhere. Boats, sheds, rocks, tee shirts. A symbol, an emblem.

I love that water is everywhere. That houses are tucked right up against it. That it defines the place - what is an island without water?

I love the colours - of houses (greens, reds, blues, yellows), of lichen on rocks, of sky and clouds and seaweed.

I loved the girl-time - talks over glasses of wine, talks in the car as we drove around, talks as we walked. Also the important silence as we hung out together, too. It's OK to just be, together. Not talk. Think our own private thoughts.

I loved the city of St. John's - an overgrown fishing village, a cosmopolitan industrial town. Graffiti and rock music and sushi, too.

I loved the island of Fogo - more remote than St. John's, a drive and a car ferry away, full of wind and beauty.

It's good to get home but it's also necessary to get away. Adventure.

the moment before travel

2011-11-08T13:03:00.003-04:00

I took these pictures about a month ago, at work. It was a sunny afternoon. I was coming down the stairs from the staff room/parts department, with a coffee, and I saw these shadows. I went and got my camera. Flossie said, "What are you doing?" I said, "Taking pictures of shadows!" She laughed appreciatively, she always does at my weirdnesses.

Something about light and shadow is really speaking to me these days. I love - the directness of it. The patterns. Light and shadow make big art on the floor or a wall or wherever, but it doesn't last, it changes with wind, or with clouds, or with the normal movement of the sun. The patterns are bright, but they are also quietness, darkness. And that's another element, it's quiet - it's silent, really. So like meditation, you can lose yourself in just watching a shadow, or the light part.

***

I'm off to Newfoundland, tomorrow! I'm taking a trip that I've been planning for a couple of months, and which I've been looking forward to for all that time. I'm going to see a dear, dear friend. I'm going to explore the town of St. John's. (Which, in my head, sounds like how Flossie pronounces it - sint-Jaans. Short "sint", long flat "a" in Johns.)

I'm going by airplane. Over land, then sea. I bet there will be some fun shadows to spy on from the air. Then nearly a whole week on the Avalon peninsula, exploring new places (well, new to me - they've actually been there for millennia, and they're not new to the people who live there) and visiting the ocean in a different place. Perhaps some outings on the town with ladies and gents, dressing up and looking shiny and cute, patronizing some nice establishments. Enjoying ourselves.

For now, it's that moment before travel - half in my normal zone - home, relaxed, dishes to be done - and half already gone. Thinking of what to pack, thinking of when I'll land, looking ahead.

mermaid

2011-10-31T18:00:00.000-03:00

For Halloween this year I decided to be a mermaid.

Sparkly fabric - cutting out the pattern. My dear friend Flossie helped me with the sewing, which was really fun. I think I'm going to get a sewing machine and do more projects. Very empowering.

Then my friends Tanis and Shauna helped me with hair and makeup.

Mermaid! And thusly dressed, I went out on the town with Adam (dressed as a zombie who was run over by a car) and danced and partied til 5 am. A good time! I'm already tossing around ideas for what I might be next year. Grecian goddess? Rock lobster? Stay tuned...

colour, inspiration, yeah

2011-10-23T11:38:00.001-03:00

Your faithful mailgirl.

Being busy can also mean that when you go back through your pictures of the last few months, you're pleasantly surprised and inspired by what you find. You forget what was there.

These first three pictures are from July 31st. The day after the big U2 concert I went to. I was in Sackville, New Brunswick. We ate at a cafe that served the most delicious lemonade (see below). A memory which makes me want to make up a glass pitcher of lemonade each time I think of it, even in the depths of fall as we are now.

City Mail, it turned out, was a fun art project that two girls had dreamed up, which usually ran in Halifax but which was running in Sackville for this one weekend for the duration of an indie rock festival called "Sappy Fest". It's basically a mail service. You write a letter or a note. One of the several girls on staff, wearing vintage-y looking mail uniforms, delivers the letter to whoever you want, given they're in the same town. I think if you Google it you can find out more, like interviews with the girls and stuff.

These pictures are from July 25th. I went to the local hardware store and got some colour chips. (I'm now making an effort to spell "colour" the Canadian way. Because, really, it's not that hard.) Then I played around with them.

I totally intended to use them somehow in the summer mini-book I was intending to use to document my summer, but I got distracted and never finished it. The chips are still sitting in a neat little pile in the cardboard box that holds all the other things I meant to put in the summer mini-book. Oh well - someday!

fact: there is more to do, than can EVER be done

2011-10-12T10:45:00.002-03:00

Two Internet friends - well, that's probably not the right term, since they may or may not know who I am, but I think it works - are tapping into whatever wavelength I'm on, lately. More like, they're giving me the words I need right now. And they don't even know it.

Those words are:

"you know when you dont KNOW?

when you're not sure of the outcome so therefore you dont do anything?

i do that all the time.

and then i realize, oh. my only job is to move to the music, not to predict what will happen in the end."

(Shannon Leith.)

"My I'm-OKAY prayer:
I'm okay EVEN IF I don't build my own furniture and home school my kids and raise free-range llamas. I'm okay EVEN IF I am the world's worst knitter, baker, cleaner, time-manager. I'm okay EVEN IF I prefer comfort over style in everything from leggings to couches. I'm okay EVEN IF I don't know how to sew or do HTML code or ride horses bareback. I'm okay EVEN IF I don't keep track of what-I-wore or where-I-went or how-to-be-exciting-in-140-characters. I'm okay - EVEN IF I eat too much chocolate. Or crackers + cheese. I'm okay EVEN IF I prefer to cuddle on the couch with a glass of pinot noir every now and again instead of working my nights away so I can pretend I'm keeping up with the internet. I'm okay.

It feels good to say that. Life here is very sweet right now and I feel like I need to take a moment to soak it all in. I'm taking a serious look at how I can streamline + disconnect to preserve my sanity. Especially leading into the holiday season (which I love). I'm hatching a plan. How do you do it?"

(Kal Barteski)

Fact: there is more to do, than can EVER be done. Fact: there are more leaves on the trees, than you can ever count. Even if you lived a hundred lifetimes. So just enjoy how pretty those leaves are.

just sayin

2011-10-11T23:30:00.002-03:00

Does anyone else get the urge a lot to just text or email their significant other and just say "hey baby, how you doing today? you're the best!" I think about my honey all the time. We only talk every couple of days or so and it's really been an eye-opener to how much I want to be in touch with him, like, all the time. Even if I have nothing to say. I just want to hear his voice, talk about random things.

It's kind of like how a fair bit of the time, especially after reading other blogs, I want to post to my own blog. Even if I have nothing particularly amazing to say.

Like, umm, now.

Tonight finds me at my computer. Still in my waitressing clothes. (Button up white shirt. Black pants. Tie! Nametag!) Toodling around the Internet. Writing emails, reading blogs. Eating peanut butter, honey and yogurt from their respective jars. Thinking, "I should probably go to bed, it's 11:30 and I have to be up and at work at 8 am tomorrow. Urgh. Not looking forward to that."

Oh well.

Here are some pictures I took last month, near Ingonish. (That's in Northern Cape Breton, in case you didn't know.) It was windy, that's why my hair is flying around.

Oh and that red is now gone, dyed over with a dark dark brown and then lightened at the tips for that "ombre" effect that apparently hip kids are doing, somewhere. I don't know, I just do what my hairdresser tells me. I'm her guinea pig.

giving thanks

2011-10-10T13:48:00.002-03:00

Giving thanks for busyness on the plate. For turkey, potatoes, squash, stuffing, gravy, cranberries. For new family in my life that were not, this time last year, and at whose home I've been welcomed.

For a day off. For work, in these economically depressed times. For words, writing and friends, who all came together last weekend at the Writers' Festival (and about which, I'll have pictures on here soon). For chicken burgers, made with pickles, jalapeno peppers, mayonnaise, lettuce and onion.

For sunshine. For water and wind. For music - that heals, that lets you dance. For laughter and for good hairdressers.

For all these things, I give thanks.

they sell for less

2011-10-05T17:42:00.000-03:00

These pictures were taken a month ago. What the jeebers...

I guess time goes faster when you have two jobs. Yup, I'm here to tell you that it does.

So the idea here was to take some pictures of Value Village. Of all the thrift stores on the island that I've been to, it's my favorite. The prices aren't super low, but they're not "boutique thrift" prices either, which tend to be higher.

I'm thinking it would be neat to do features on different thrift stores on Cape Breton. Or even just in the Sydney area. Maybe I will. (Maybe when I don't have two jobs anymore.)

What do you love about thrifting? Is it the thrill of the hunt? The sound of coat hangers sliding? I prefer the coat hanger approach to the bin approach. But others like bins better. To each her own.

I just love all the different patterns and textures you see in a thrift store. It can be very inspiring just to go and rummage around.

I lined up these glasses so the colours would be together. (A side note: I really don't care which way I spell the word 'color'. Honestly, it's not a matter of national pride for me. And I actually find it easier to go without the U.)

That particular day I resolved not to buy these glasses (6 for 2$). I thought, "I have nowhere to put them and I'm trying to downsize anyway."

The following week I went back, and they happened to still be there. I bought them. Two dollars, people. Someday I will have my own apartment or house and when I do, these glasses will rock the kitchen.

Me! Looking for a rad winter coat. Didn't find one that day.

Fun fact: the dress I'm wearing was originally purchased at this same Value Village, a couple of years ago.

Also fun: one of my favorite blogs, A Beautiful Mess, recently did a post of Thrift Tips. Check it out, it's a fun little read. And it will probably make you want to go right out to your nearest thrift store. Just a warning.

***

Currently: it's cold, a wind out of the north. Feels like fall. Properly. It's coming on to Thanksgiving and I think I might make my pumpkin cheesecake for this particular holiday. It's so decadent and spicy, just what you need to relax with after a lovely Thanksgiving meal with family.

I'm taking a few minutes to write because hey, I miss blogging! I read rad blogs every day (my favorites are over there on the right) and get all inspired, but don't have the time to follow through on all my blog post ideas. I wish I had more time to devote to it! I'd love to get all creative with my photos, photoshopping them right up with words and stuff. Gah. Can't do it all, but I want to!

Then after supper I'm off to my friend Flossie's house for sewing instruction. We're working on my Halloween costume on consecutive Wednesdays until it's done. Tonight is our first night.

I've been working a lot lately. Waitressing isn't as tiring as I thought it would be, but it is still tiring. I work from 8 to 5 at the marina, then change into my uniform and go over to the restaurant from 5:30 to close, which is 9 pm, plus however long it takes the last tables to finish up. So I get out of there anywhere between 10 and 11. I'm making OK money and that's good enough for me.

I do this sort of day for two days a week, sometimes three or four.

So yeah, a little busy.

Oh well - that's life for ya, and besides, I'm hopeful that things will quiet down once winter comes.

Oh yeah and I'm going to be in Portland, Maine, for New Year's Eve - anyone have any fun tips for that city? It will be new to Adam and I, we're looking forward to roaming a new city and eating out, checking out cool stuff.

AND Feist's new album is out now! Who else is excited!?!

2011-09-25T17:35:00.001-03:00

No camera here at Adam's means no pictures of things like:

Serrano peppers stuffed with cream cheese (in which was mixed chopped cilantro and green onion, his idea) - which we will then tempura batter and deep fry (also his idea).

The windy fall day and the walk I took with Maggie the dog, down a lane and to the lake.

The couch I am lying on. In the basement, in the dark, even though it's so nice and sunny out. We are serious about our vegging. Adam is an Olympian relaxer. Even though the "bat cave" takes a little getting used to for an outdoorsy girl, it's pretty damn sweet to lie around all day with one's sweetheart.

These days I am waitressing a couple of nights a week. I like it. I like making banter with tables. I like learning the processes of the restaurant. I like that last night I said to the sous-chef, Jeff, "I'm going to be picking up my order in a second, just to let you know-" before going back out the swinging doors to the POS machine to click "pick up" on a table's order. (This is what you do when they're nearly done their appetizers and you want to make sure the kitchen has the mains ready.) When I first started a couple of weeks ago, I heard another waitress say something like that, and I thought, "Wow, there's no way I'll be able to do that!" To walk into the kitchen and talk competently about food and my tables while everyone else is listening, then turn around and go do something else useful, knowing where everything is and what needs to be done. Smiling while doing it. Breathing deep.

But, time passes and we get used to things. That's how we all roll.

One other thing: if you do nothing else as a Cape Breton writer this year, make it to the Cabot Trail Writers' Festival. It's amazing. I went last year and was blown away. Amazing writers teach workshops in intimate settings. You meet other writers and eat delicious, local-made food. There is a pub night with alphabet-shaped pretzels and jazz music. I'm planning to get a book of Johanna Skibsrud's poetry, as well as Alexander MacLeod's short story collection "Light Lifting", and get them both autographed.

back in July

2011-09-19T07:33:00.001-03:00

The summer was busy and full, and I'm only now getting the chance to go through my pictures.

These are from July 8th. From top: the Highwheeler Cafe in my hometown of Baddeck. A ticket stub from the Highwheeler. Food from a bar in Florence where I met up with some friends for a Happy Hour. Then the Lick-A-Treat (which is right next door to a fried chicken place called Lick-A-Chick, I kid you not) for ice cream, soft serve. For me, soft serve ice cream is one of those things you just have to have on a warm summer evening.

It's early - still only 7:30 am. Even though I have the day off, I got up with Adam when he went to work, and decided to spend a bit of time writing. Even though I know that I'm passionate about words, poems and images, and even though I've gotten the knack of saying "I'm a writer" to people I've just met without somehow justifying my use of the title, when it comes to actually writing, I'm as hard to pin down as a politician. "I can't take time to do that now, I've got to ___________________." Fill in the blank. Even doing the laundry is more important, so it seems, than practicing my craft.

I think it's because I feel that if I'm going to sit down and write, well, the outcome better be perfect - a complete little short story or poem must emerge in an hour. I'm "good at it", right? So why doesn't it come easily?

I need to see it more as a daily exercise. You don't run a marathon the week you start running.

30 days - of local food - hath September

2011-09-13T23:55:00.000-03:00

Last Friday night I went over to Alicia Lake's house for dinner. But not just any dinner - an all-local, all-Cape Breton dinner.

You see, Alicia is eating only Cape Breton-grown foods for the thirty days of September. And, she's blogging about it here: cblocaldiet.ca. I wanted to interview her and then write about it for the local paper. But mostly I just wanted to eat a delicious meal and learn more about local foods.

This is what I brought along, courtesy of Mum's garden: tomatoes, zucchini, green peppers, lettuce, sage, and green beans.

When I got there, Alicia and her husband Doug were whipping up a BBQ sauce, made from stewed tomatoes, garlic, honey, and hot peppers. It had a real zing to it, but also lots of flavour.

Doug went out and starting BBQ-ing pork chops and chicken, and using this sauce on top. Yum!

Then inside, Alicia and I shucked some corn and got it ready for boiling.

And we put together a salad, including these green peppers my very own Mum grew (and is very proud of!). There were also potatoes and beets roasting in the oven.

Here is Alicia - and Doug's chin and hand, looking on - putting more sauce on the BBQ-ing meats. Also note the red peppers roasting - they went in our salad dressing.

Alicia showing me the eggplants she grows, right on her deck! Also, I'm a fan of the colour of her railing, and of her shoes.

Eggplants - not from her plant, but from Blue Marsh Farm in Nevada Valley, Cape Breton - after being grilled. They too ended up in the salad dressing.

Setting the table - with a pile of corn, grilled meat, as well as other goodies like beans...

And so, we ate our fill. Four teenagers - two are Alicia's kids, two were family friends - sat with us three adults, and we all ate until we were stuffed. We ate roast potatoes and beets, green beans, pork chops and chicken, corn on the cob, salad, and a delicious sauce/salad dressing (with no oil or vinegar available to us - as it is not grown or produced on the island - we had to make do with roasted veggies and herbs, all whizzed up in the food processor).

After dinner Alicia and I sat down with tea and rhubarb compote while I finished up my list of questions. We talked for a while - not surprisingly, since Alicia is very friendly and since we are both so passionate about the topic of both food and local community development.

Here is the rhubarb compote that Doug made for us while we were chatting. It was delicious.

All in all - it was a very interesting experience. I eat local a good bit of the time but deciding to eat strictly CB-grown foods for even one evening - much less a whole month! - brought my attention very quickly to what is available here, and what isn't. It really made me think about how vulnerable we are, as an island, as communities, since we don't grow a lot of our own food. Food is a pretty basic part of the puzzle of human existence, and we truck most of it onto the island. Why not support local farmers, get fresh food, and make our communities stronger by doing so?

Do read Alicia's blog - cblocaldiet.ca - and do leave me a comment, if you like.

i love...

2011-09-11T11:55:00.004-03:00

... library books in a big stack all over the floor. Letting them be in a mess because I'm home and I can.

... stop-light yellow and green zucchinis, fresh from the garden. Mum bringing them in to show me. "Look at these!" she says excitedly. Also I love being enough of an adult now to appreciate them, appreciate her. Not snub her just to snub her, just to define a boundary.

... days off that I spend at home - realizing how much time I spend away from home, and how darn much I missed being in my own house. Letting my belly hang out. Reading for hours in my bed. I also realize how much time I spend working (especially now with two nights a week waitressing, that I just started last week), so I'm letting myself do whatever I want on my time off. It's precious. Got to treat it that way.

... being a big ol' goofball. It's the best. Laughing and making silly noises whenever I like. Sure, I seem like a weirdo. OK, I am a weirdo. But it's free and it's freeing.

... yoga making me tighter, stronger, taller. Yes taller! I swear I've grown an inch or two. At least, it feels that way. I've been more aware of my core than ever. I'm able to straighten up the slight curve that's always been in my lower back. Stand taller. Straighten my shoulders. Feel strength in parts of me that have never felt strong. That's freeing, too.

... you!

... local food adventures like Alicia over at CBLocalDiet.ca. I'll be blogging about my meal with her, soon.

this sunday rocks

2011-09-04T11:43:00.000-03:00

A day, it could have been any day this summer. And I could look up what day it was if I really wanted to - I label my photos by the day they were taken - but it doesn't really matter, does it?

It was a hot day. And I was craving lemonade ever since I had some at this cafe in Sackville - I think it's the Bridge St. Cafe - and it was so fresh and lemony. So I bought lemons. Made a simple syrup (funny, right now the Feist song "Simple Story" is playing, I love synchronicity). Squeezed a lot of lemons. Wasn't following a recipe or anything. Turns out I made it a little more lemony and a little sweeter than I probably should have. Oh well.

And Adam and I were making supper, so the bread is waiting to go in the oven. It has garlic butter spread inside of it. Yum.

And the shoes, chair, door, hallway pic at the top is just the entranceway at his house. A house that has become a home for me, of a kind. I spend nearly every weekend here with him and his family. I'm getting more comfortable, I noticed. This morning as we made breakfast I did some random yoga poses, sang a bit to myself and joked in a fake Italian accent, all things I really only do at home. With people I'm totally comfortable with.

Oh who am I kidding, I do that all the time. But, you get my point.

I hope, anyway.

Off to do some thrift shopping. I'm excited for this! My favorite bloggers of late are into showing off clothes and most of them are vintage or thrifted. I haven't been able to get shopping at all this summer and now I can, so I'm pumped. OOH, pushing through racks of clothes! Trying on random stuff! Thinking, "How can I make this work?" Getting stuff for cheap! It really is the best.

nail polish

2011-08-26T10:09:00.000-03:00

Lately I've been wearing nail polish. It started with Canada Day - Red and white at random.

Then came my urge for a minty-green.

Then pearly white silver for a wedding I attended.

I wore nail polish as a kid. The peel-off kind that would tempt me to pick at it only minutes after putting it on, it came off so deliciously in long plastic-y strips. I wore the regular kind, too. I wasn't very good at putting it on, and my nails were never overly long anyway (I can't stand having the white part more than a couple of millimeters). So it looked messy. Then it started to feel gross, like it was blocking the sensation through my nails. Like a mask you can't see through.

So for years I didn't use nail polish, except for the odd time I'd paint my toenails. I thought, "thank goodness I don't like it, since it IS bad for you and who needs it!?"

And then there was a Friendsday Wednesday with a Canada Day theme, and I decided to paint my fingernails. I thought: "Well even if it feels gross I can always take it off the next day. And good thing I didn't throw out the nail polish remover in my cleaning fit last month." My friend Mary Beth did the painting for me and I noted how she did it - in three even strokes per nail, wiping off any spill as she went.

And it didn't feel gross. It didn't feel like a mask. It felt fine. And smooth. And the ends of my fingers felt grown-up, and they flashed color at me as I did things like type, or drive my car, or reach into my purse. My hands felt illuminated, highlighted.

So I've gone back over to nail polish. I'm still a short-nails girl, I really don't think I could ever be the kind for fake nails and professional manicures. But, one never knows.

merci beaucoup

2011-08-23T21:05:00.002-03:00

Summer already feels like it's winding down. The air is cool at night and people are talking about their plans for September, that month when sweaters and jeans are actually fresh and exciting, that month of heading back (either to school or somewhere else), of harvesting the veggies and getting ready to put things "to bed", of big honking issues of Vogue. (Think I might just indulge in some of that this month.)

This summer has been amazing. Resonating. Liberating. I meant to do a scrapbook of it, of memorabilia, photos and wedding programs and nail polish colors, and I even bought a rad little book from Elise, and started it, but haven't yet finished it. That's probably OK. Maybe I'll do that over the fall.

I can't explain it other than - changes. Sometimes they're huge and smack you down, like depression or job loss or death or break-ups. And then sometimes they come along subtle like this, and you realize that you're changing. The way you see light. The way you do your hair. The friends you keep company with. Life excites you even more, with newness and learning. Nothing really big on the outside has changed but it feels like little by little you've replaced every cell in your body. You're still you but it's like you've shed a skin and the fresh stuff underneath is showing.

Merci beaucoup to this summer that was so short but yet so full.

Allo allo to a Fall of: plans, creating, new projects (to be shared soon!), to continuing to clean out the load of stuff I have, finding out what I want to keep, what I want to polish and restore and make new, what I want to donate and get rid of. Spiritually, emotionally, and physically too - I could stand to be less of a packrat.

bit of beach

2011-08-20T11:29:00.001-03:00

Apparently I'm posting daily now. At least, for now.

Which quickly makes one realize there are important questions to answer before starting to type, like - "What the heck am I saying here? And why?" And I'm not sure of the answers. Oh well, onwards and upwards.

It's a Saturday morning. My Sunday, I've got to work tomorrow. A bit low-key, not sure what we're doing today. I did end up going to the beach yesterday, and the sun was shining! I had a sweet little hour there before turning back and coming to the Boyfriend's for supper. At the beach (Chimney Corner, I ended up deciding) I got to wear my new bikini (first time all summer) and swim around in some gorgeous clear, turquoise-teal blue water, then lie in the sun and read some of my book (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - I'm finally attempting the whole series). It was pretty great, and I did my best to be there, in that moment, and soak it up. That's a lot harder than it sounds! Our human brains do struggle against being in the moment, and I knew that soon enough I'd be back in the car and leaving, wishing I had enjoyed it for all it was worth.

Today: maybe more beach somewhere? It's cloudy, but warm. First up - breakfast. Yes, at 11:30. Don't judge.

foggy dayz

2011-08-19T08:46:00.000-03:00

Foggy morning on my day off. Determined to go find some sun. I bought a thing of spray-on sunscreen - it's weird! But, it might as well get used up.

Mat's listening to Flower Fairy, an act he discovered at the Evolve festival. She rocks! Her album is called Nursery Gryme. The link goes to her partner Dub FX's site. They perform together, which I find interesting.

So the dub beats got me feeling the Point Michaud vibe, surf lesson maybe? But then again I haven't been to Chimney Corner all summer. I dunno - the weather forecast is showing sun in all three locations (the two beaches plus here at home) but all I see is fog. Which will hopefully burn off.

The summer is almost over - how are we almost at the end of August - and I'm determined to have as much beach in the remaining time, as I can.

Oh! A report from outside that it is drizzling. I will pack up the car anyway, and GO!

hmm, life goes in cycles, apparently

2011-08-18T21:41:00.000-03:00

Blogging has become so public. In the old days, in 2002, 2003, I felt I could open up a blog window and just type things out, and it didn't matter so much who might read it. Just type away my thoughts on something, hit publish, and get a hit of creative energy being let out.

Now, I don't feel I can do that. I feel like a blog post has to impress, has to wow, has to be about something.

I know this feeling is mostly my own fault, because heck, I want my blog to do these things. I like it when it works - when people are impressed by me, when they like what I do, creatively. And, I advertise my blog on my Facebook page. And I have no idea who is even really ON my Facebook page anymore! So therefore I'm trying to impress people and I don't even know who they are, much less what would impress them.

No wonder I feel so stuck! "I want to post on my blog. But, I want it to be awesome. But, I don't have the time to make it really awesome. (Pictures, well thought out words, etc.) So, I just won't post at all."

Maybe that's OK. Maybe things go in cycles. But still, letting go of something that is both (a) a big part of my creative life and (b) fairly public (or maybe I'm just flattering myself) ... is hard.

I'm not letting go, entirely, right now. I'm just saying - life is busy and for various reasons, this blog is taking a back seat right now. Unintentionally, but it's happening all the same.

That's all for now.

mid-july: good times, great food,

2011-07-24T20:30:00.000-03:00

Prepare yourself: this is a picture-heavy post. There's a lot of good stuff going on right now, and I've been pretty good at capturing the fleeting moments on my camera. (Of course, for every one picture I take, there are at least a hundred I wish I took. Oh well - can't do it all.)

More than the other seasons, summer is the one where I feel I'm running to keep up, so keenly aware of how fast time passes. Trying, so hard, to soak it up.

Here's what these pictures are of:

The goodness of nail polish, rediscovered after years and years. Food: chocolate banana pancakes with whipped cream and maple syrup. Last year's apple, kept in the cold room, now wrinkly. Chopped local mushrooms and garlic scapes waiting to be fried (to accompany a roast). Strawberries, strawberries, strawberries - I could eat the local, warm, ripe ones for every meal. The community market on a Wednesday. A print by Elise Blaha (whose summer mini-book I am avidly working on, and will share about at a later date). Surf lesson - first one ever. It was harder than I thought to get up on the board, over and over again. But exhilarating when the instructor would help push me onto a wave, and I would attempt to rise from my prone position to my knees while gliding along a rushing wave, all while keeping my balance! Arms were quite sore the next day.

Oh summer. OK. You're here now, you won't be here forever. Let's do our simple part to live in the warmth you give us, as much as we can.

livin the dream, bye

2011-07-11T22:37:00.000-03:00

Take it from the top: fried wonton with sweet and sour sauce. (And the lemon slice from my first Caesar ever.) Greasy, sweet and garishly cherry red. YUM.

Then: a boat called Patience showed up on our doorstep. Hobbled and with her trailer falling and rotting out from under her, she'd been sold to someone who didn't really know what to do with it and has since decided to give it to us. Let us do what we want with it. (The marina, I mean.) I get a real kick out of the fact that the boat is called "patience". And that the letters are all worn away. What does that mean, exactly?

Canada Day weekend: painted my nails white and red. Got in Boyfriend's truck and we drove away, on a beautiful sunny day. Went to the Eastern Passage area and had one of those "slice of heaven" weekends you sometimes get. Where it all makes sense and lines up and you just bask in love and awesomeness. I played MASH with a 9-year-old girl. Apparently I'm going to end up with Jian Ghomeshi (not Prince William or Justin Bieber, dammit) and I will be a writer. Yes!! And of course I took a walk on the beach - hands up if you love beaches.

And then there is this: if you read Elise Blaha's blog then you know about the Summer mini-books. I ordered one for myself! Exciting times. The Canadian postal strike/lock-out meant I didn't get it for a month, but that's OK. Now it's time to print photos and start getting cozy with scissors, glue, tape and other fun devices.

the world gives us inspiration

2011-07-05T09:22:00.000-03:00

Today: green leaves on trees, wet with last night's rain.

The old cat meows incessantly, trained to expect food every time she does. We try to love her anyway.

I don't work until 10 am, which feels like a holiday. (Except, I'll be there until 8 tonight. Oh well.) In the meantime, I sit on the couch and waste time (or is it wasted? The great debate) looking at blogs and stuff.

New blogs I am loving: A Beautiful Mess (girl in Missouri). Here's Looking at Me Kid (girl in Ohio). Sappy Apple (girl in Alberta, maybe). SouleMama (girl I'm not sure where).

What I'm loving about them: fashion, made up by beautiful, talented but down-to-earth people. Creativity. Real life, made special by photographing it and documenting it. They inspire me to try new things (like paint my nails, which I did for Canada Day, and which I actually really like.)

happy canada day

2011-07-02T20:31:00.000-03:00

I'm in Eastern Passage, a part of Dartmouth/Halifax. We're visiting with friends and celebrating the long weekend. It's quite marvellous - a relaxed household of Boyfriend's family and their friends who live next door. A back deck with a little fireplace. Delicious food, guitars and sing-alongs, drinks and laughter. Comfortable suburban houses right by the ocean - a beach only a minute walk away. And we've had actual sunny weather. It feels like a slice of heaven. (Except for the hangover today. But, oh well.)

Whoo red and white! Go Canada!

bests

2011-06-25T08:25:00.000-03:00

1. Blogging from bed on a Saturday morning on boyfriend's MacBook while boyfriend sleeps beside me.

2. Discovering a new blog that makes me really inspired and happy. (Not that there is a shortage of blogs in the world - but I don't really go looking for new blogs, I let them find me. And this one did.) It's called A Beautiful Mess - you may already have heard of it since she seems pretty popular, but if not check it out. It's a girl named Elsie who lives in Springfield, Missouri, and runs a little vintage clothing/stuff shop called Red Velvet. She posts a lot - at least daily, if not more - and has lots of photos of her adventures in dressing, designing, running a shop, etc. Recently she got married to her sweetheart - those pictures are pretty sweet!

3. Reading blogs on the MacBook. Why does everything look so much better on here? Also, why doesn't every computer have the two finger scroll function? Lame.

4. Vintage - reading that blog really makes me want to go thrift shopping.

5. Getting rid of stuff and how that makes me feel - pared back, more appreciative of what I've got around me. I get addicted to it and want to do it all day and all night until I've gone through all my belongings (I have quite a bit of stuff!). Shannon Leith recently did this too and she says,

"i think the coolest part is actually having things surrounding me that are meaningful.

getting the filler-stuff out of there: the stuff i never use and am never going to touch.

i now have only what i care about.

it feels so refreshing."

friendsday wednesday

2011-06-24T11:52:00.000-03:00

When you live here, you realize there aren't a lot of young folk around. You have to make an effort to get a gang together.

Somehow or other, though, we've managed it. It's called Friendsday Wednesday and it started six weeks ago, by accident and luck. A friend said "Let's get together for dinner. What night works for you this week?" I said, "Wednesday." She said, "Invite other young people you know," and we were too lazy to get it together to cook a real meal, so we all just brought ingredients. We cooked together and talked and laughed, and then ate together. Then we said, "Let's do it again next week!"

We rove - we change locations each week. This past week we were up in North River. These pictures are from that dinner.

Other than that - things are good. Busy! Work is getting busier - boats being launched, people planning their summer and making reservations to come in to a mooring or a dock.I still do my yoga two nights a week (and love it!). I spend weekends with the boyfriend, for the most part.

Oh and! We had a sunny day, the other day! Shadows have become strangers - I welcomed them back.

when life gives you raindrops

2011-06-16T23:43:00.000-03:00

Finally, a reason to be excited about all this rain!

A citizens' rainfall network! Buy a rain gauge for 8$ at the hardware store. Put it in the ground as far from trees as possible. Each day, read the measurement, then dump out the water. Email your results to Bill Danielson. Feel like both a Real Scientist, and an Active Citizen.

It's part of an exhibit happening this summer at the North Highlands Community Museum, called "Cape Breton Weather, Cape Breton Lives." If you live in Cape Breton and want to take part, email Bill - downspill@gmail.com.

molly and the mermaid

2011-06-07T20:46:00.000-03:00

My friend Molly got another tattoo, this one a beautiful mermaid on her left arm. The tattoo artist did a really good job - the scales especially are gorgeous! Being as both of us use Pinterest, and like tattoos, I thought I'd pin this to Pinterest, too.

(One day, I'll get a tattoo. I've got some ideas lately. Involving compasses.)

spring greens

2011-06-06T00:44:00.001-03:00

(Or, thoughts had while driving home at 11 pm on a foggy Sunday night, and written down and posted shortly thereafter.)

Spring is here. Leaves are out on the trees, and it's a relief. After fog and rain and cold, and feeling like our climate is changing, I'm so glad to see trees just bursting with new life, covered in lush greenness. A promise that there will be a summer, that there is some normalcy.

Well, I mean, OK, I'm not just feeling it, the climate is changing. We all know that by now, don't we? I mean, tornadoes, hurricanes, and scientific data that just won't quit? Can we all stop saying "well maybe it's something that is supposed to happen every 10,000 years by itself" - anyone who's ever had anything to do with alcoholism can tell you, that's denial, people.

I like a comic I saw recently somewhere online that was some scientists at a climate conference. There was a list on a whiteboard of "benefits of reducing our impact on the world" - things like "healthier kids" and "better food" and "stronger communities". One guy in the audience stood up and said "Yeah but what if it's all a hoax and we make a better world for NOTHING?"

That's pretty much how I feel.

Like, can't we stop arguing over whether or not it's a hoax, and just do the right thing already? Because even if somehow it is a big hoax, isn't reducing our voracious use of the planet's resources a really great thing?

Most of the time I feel like standing in the middle of a street, or a mall, or anywhere at all, and just yelling "Wake the fuck up everyone!" Just yelling it, over and over and over. Partly because I like saying the word "fuck". (If you thought I was only a "sweetheart" and that I never offend anyone, you were wrong. Sorry.) Partly because I want everyone to WAKE THE FUCK UP. And then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT ALREADY.

But doing that makes you a social pariah and people don't listen anyway.

And besides, people wake up individually and unfortunately we do not, as a world, collectively make decisions.

So what to do?

Hunker down. Shop at the farmer's market (and get asparagus and greens in season, and eat the earth's rhythms to instill them in yourself). Laugh and dance to make yourself feel less crazy, and let the real feelings OUT. Talk to like-minded people, like I do with my friend Kate, with whom I try and walk once a week. We talk about this feeling of living in two worlds. One is the world of cars and TV shows and getting your food at the supermarket, frozen, in pretty packages, and being "normal", ordering things and talking about next year like the world we live in is never going to change. Like "positive growth always" is actually possible, like we live on a magic planet with infinite resources and a reset button. The other is the world of fear, of who knows what might happen, of eating dandelion greens and scrounged beans and needing to know how to shoot a gun because everything has collapsed due to Peak Oil. And these days? It feels like those two worlds are starting to merge. Like I said, tornadoes and hurricanes. Scientific data that just will not quit. That just keeps coming.

I gotta admit some stuff. I like driving. No, scratch that, I love it. I do. I'm an environmentalist (and sometimes just a mentalist - ask my family) and I love driving. I'm not saying I love what it does to the planet. Nor what it has done to cities and communities. But I do love it. I love doing it. I love the freedom. I love the speed. I love pressing on the gas and feeling my car speed up, go faster. I am in control, my hands are on the wheel. I can take myself there.

Also, today I shopped at WalMart. Not that I do this all the time, but it was kind of nice. There was so much stuff. It was abundant, and shiny, and well-ordered and cheap. I watched people and sort of took in how they pushed their carts and the neat stories of each person I didn't know. I actually enjoyed myself.

I think it's important to recognize these things about myself. About ourselves. That I am so NOT perfect. That I do not stand apart from the world, that I am part of it.

The other day at work some men were talking about how they're going to travel, whether they're going back to the US by plane or by car. One said, "We're flying, so I'm not sure when we'll get back." "No, no," said the other one. "Remember, for that leg we're driving." Then, sardonically, sarcastically, but (I got the sense) not as aware as I was of the full meaning of what he said, "We're controlling our own destiny."

Man, have we ever fooled ourselves. But it feels good, doesn't it?

(She said ironically, but also earnestly. Sadly. And in some weird way, because she's a sensitive one, with joy.)

the merry, foggy month of may

2011-05-27T18:55:00.000-03:00

The merry, foggy, busy month of May is almost over.

It saw me on the road a lot. I finished house-sitting for one friend and was home for a week (or maybe longer, but it flew by), then went off to another house-sit. Working every day, and so driving a lot. And my boyfriend lives an hour away, so no matter what, weekends involve some driving, either him or me. Sometimes both if we've got a lot planned.

Here are pictures gleaned from the last month. I made this bracelet that is DIY and pretty simple - it just requires cotton twine and #6 hex nuts. Animals from the house-sit - chickens, cat, dog. Old bracelets from a female relative on my Mum's side. Daffodils and hibiscus. Fog and more fog. (It's starting to get sunnier and warmer now, but for weeks there it was nothing but cold and rain. And the blessed fog.) Boyfriend's guitar case - I liked how the strings impressed into the soft material covering the inside of the case lid. New shoes - that I want to wear everywhere, sparkly little silver leather flats. And a sandwich I made somewhere in there at 6:30 am (an hour I've been seeing far too much of and don't plan to see at all this weekend, oh yeah), that featured fresh dandelion greens. YUM SPRING. Bring it on.

sunshine, you are my sunshine

2011-05-18T09:06:00.001-03:00

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone..." has been stuck in my head lately. We've been covered in clouds and fog for at least two weeks now - although, today, almost as if Mama Nature heard me bitching mightily yesterday about how sick I am of the rain and cold, the sun is poking through. (I like to imagine the sun as a person who is up there actually poking her fingers through these obstinate clouds. Determined.)

"Only clouds when she's away..."

I read this article on Saturday (sitting in a cafe in Sydney, drinking and eating and taking an hour to myself, which was just lovely) and it really struck a chord with me. I haven't been getting enough sleep. Worse, I really undervalue my sleep. I know it's really important, but for some reason everything else always seems more important. And that's not right.

Because the other stuff - going on Facebook and reading what "everyone else" is up to, or going on Pinterest and zoning out while scanning interesting photos, or even doing the dishes - really isn't worth skipping out on sleep. Precious sleep that helps my brain repair itself, my body clean out toxins, my sense of balance return.

This week I've been inspired, therefore, to shut the computer down at 9 pm. To sit and stare off into space. To go to bed at an earlier time, and to not worry about the stuff that does not get done. It's like I've just had it with being stressed about anything, and I just don't want to give stress free rent in my head anymore.

Maybe that's how the sun feels about the clouds.

the value of poems isn't dollars

2011-05-09T21:18:00.001-03:00

Life keeps on truckin. Like...

... a truck? One of those big noisy and powerful transfer trucks? (That I always call "transford trucks" in my head. Do you?)

I'm listening to hiphop in earphones, and rocking out in my desk chair, swaying at the hips. It's Acadian rap, too. I'm too lazy to link to it, so if your interest is piqued, get that old Google going and type in "Radio Radio". Two dudes - or maybe more dudes than that, I don't know - from somewhere in New Brunswick that make rad music, no pun intended. Danceable and groovy and well put together, and yet silly at the same time. The best kind of music if you ask me.

Spring comes to Cape Breton, again. And again and again. Little fluff balls on the ends of maple trees, fill with water droplets on yet another misty day. I drive by them and smile, and think of Dr. Seuss. People complain about the week's forecast of rain. I like the coolness of the air, and all the different tones of greys and blues. But, I do like sun too. I like all the weather. I'm pretty easy that way.

On the weekend I was part of a poetry workshop. From 10 am to 4:30, with a break for lunch and a few random breaks for coffee and tea and fresh air. In a small hall that used to be a schoolhouse, and still has that wavy glass for windows. A professor from the local university, and maybe six others. We sat around a table all day and talked about poetry. We read it aloud to each other. We showed each other poems we'd written, read them aloud too. Talked about the lines, the images, what worked, what didn't. Lines can work like people can work. In all those different ways.

Now, I'm thinking that I'm in the midst of a kind of coming out. I'm realizing that - despite what culture tells me, despite what my family might tell me about "earning a living", despite how I think I shouldn't feel the way I do - I'm really attracted to -- poems. I am a poet. I was born this way. This is how God made me. I can't help it. I read poems and my heart beats a little faster. My skin flushes. Words together, on top of each other and flirting with one another, well they make me want to be in a room alone with them. It's sexy. It makes me feel alive.

But it's scary to admit this to yourself. And to go sit for a whole day with other people who are the same way - to openly admit it's valid to love like this - well, it's a little overwhelming. It's a door opening and then going to look and see what's behind it. Wait, there was a door THERE?

Because culturally, poems might as well be pieces of paper plastered to the sidewalk and walked on. Rained on. Mudded on. But some of us stop and look down and read them and say "hey, this is a talent, this person had, in order to do that, put those words like she did."

For example: Mary Oliver. "Logos." From "Why I Wake Early" (part of my new and growing collection of poetry books. Oh, they're so slim, you hardly notice you're buying it, and they all look so nice on the shelf together.)

Here we go, here's her poem:

Why wonder about the loaves and the fishes?
If you say the right words, the wine expands.
If you say them with love
and the felt ferocity of that love,
the fish explode into many.
Imagine him, speaking,
and don't worry about what is reality,
or what is plain, or what is mysterious.
If you were there, it was all those things.
If you can imagine it, it is all those things.
Eat, drink, be happy.
Accept the miracle.
Accept, too, each spoken word
spoken with love.

***

OK, this is me again. Doesn't that just kill you? Or the opposite of kill you?

So the value of poems isn't dollars. It's love.

arias of love

2011-04-30T21:41:00.001-03:00

I'm always torn between telling old or new stories. Meaning, do I write about something present and right-now, versus pictures of a few weeks ago that I wanted to share then, and still do? Since I only post once a week these days, this means that sometimes, like this week, I feel like whatever's going on right now gets pushed to the wayside, and not recorded. But, oh well. Such is life. Gotta let go of those expectations that I can somehow record every single moment of my life. THAT ain't happening!

So for today - tonight, actually - it's 9:30 pm - but who knows what time YOU'LL be reading this - I'm going back to Lincoln Center. One charmed Saturday afternoon in New York City.

"The Elixir of Love", or L'elisir d'amore, is the opera I went to see.

Dinner in a fancy restaurant, Lincoln. It happened on a whim and it was delicious. Worth the money, for the memories alone.

I sat in the very front row. I could see the orchestra members tuning up. Checking their cell phones and texting when they weren't actually playing (well, only one of the percussionists, who only sporadically had to deliver a big crash of cymbals, and he was off in the corner where only a few people could see him).

Let me tell you - in person, opera is totally different than listening to a recording. It isn't just high-pitched singing that's impossible to understand. It's alive, passionate, being projected from a human's throat, and you're seeing their movements too. It's a play, a musical, with gorgeous arias taking your ears for a ride. It thrilled me. It brought magic into the theatre and we were all transfixed.

Oh New York. I'm glad I'm home, but I'm oh so glad I went.

night magic

2011-04-22T09:32:00.000-03:00

New York City by night. Lincoln Center after the opera, then scenes from walking from the 14th St Subway station back to my hotel. With a stop on the way for street falafel. Nothing effing better, when you're hungry and a little high off the stellar day you've just had, than hoeing down on a warm and delicious falafel roll with some creamy sauce and lettuce and tomato. Oh baby. I can't live in a city, I'm pretty sure of that, but I certainly like roaming around in them for short periods of time. Soaking them up.

Also, today is my birthday. Happy twenty-seventh, to me! So far it's a good day. A bit of new snow (yep, that's Cape Breton spring for you). Fed the chickens. Ate porridge. Made myself a playlist of some favorite songs and danced around. Read emails from friends (already! it's not even 9:30 am!) saying "Happy Birthday" and promising phone calls later.

And, tonight - a dinner party with 21 friends, with the theme of The Great Gatsby. Can you say, amazing? And no, I'm NOT the one cooking. Thank goodness. I'm leaving that up to professional chef George and his fabulous wife Cora-Lee. More on THAT later, no doubt.

back!

2011-04-18T21:44:00.002-03:00

Back from trip. Pictures and stories soon. Quick summary: it was great fun.

it's what we do

2011-04-05T15:19:00.001-03:00

How can I justify flying to New Jersey for a week? When I feel so strongly about oil, about climate change, about flying being bad?

I've been thinking about this a lot. I guess I justify it in the same way I justify doing things like driving a car, or eating cucumber out of season, or using Sunlight dish soap - although I feel badly about it, and wish I had whatever it took to find alternatives, I end up not thinking about it, too, sometimes, and I try and cut myself some slack. I also try to consider the good things that I DO do, as being meaningful, and I think about how it's pretty much impossible to escape the oil-driven and oil-dependent economy we live in.

Also I have been thinking - I can justify this trip this way: I love my Grandpa. He is nearly 90. I want to see him. And as irrational and perhaps selfish as it sounds, I guess I value seeing him, more than I do "not doing damage to the environment". That - is not great. I mean, I wish I could say that "not doing damage to the environment" meant the most to me. Certainly I feel incredibly sad sometimes about the damage we are doing to the planet, to the ways we have changed it and wrecked parts of it and the shit we're continuing to do. I feel downright overwhelmed by it, at times.

But I also love my Grandpa. He is the voice that read to me as a kid. He is my elder, my Dad's Dad, the man who built me a dollhouse when I was a little girl, who always told me that I can do incredible things with my life and my talents. And he doesn't tell me that because I'm necessarily a genius, but because I'm his granddaughter and he loves me. And it's been six years since I've seen him. And he's getting old. So I'm going to go see him. Yes, I'll feel guilt about the airplanes, the fuel spent. It's likely going to be a palpable sadness and guilt. But no doubt I'll also feel a rush as the plane pulls up into the sky, and likely I'll also feel like an adult, and capable and strong as I drive myself to the airport, park my car and go get my boarding pass.

Nothing is ever simple. Is ever black and white.

I leave tomorrow. I'll be back in a week. Also, I'm planning to see an opera in New York City! As well as generally have a really good trip. I'll share pictures upon my return!

***

Here's how the last week went.

Several days were just this: me on the couch with Kali the cat and bumming around on Pinterest. (It is seriously addictive.)

The chair I can see from the couch - and the reflection of a big spiky tropical-type plant, on it.

Chickens in their yard, the mountains behind, and the spring sun shining down.

After spending pretty much the entire day indoors, in my PJS and a hoodie, I went outside to tend to the chickens and take some pictures. I am quite happy here. In gumboots (longtime readers of this blog will know of my love for rubber boots!), on a farm. Life IS good.

This is right next to the front door. A little detail that I happened upon and really liked.

Leftover chicken soup and a toasted sandwich. My meals of the last several days.

Ferry scenes. St. Ann's Bay.

That's it for now! I hope you're well. I really do.

still life

2011-03-30T16:20:00.000-03:00

You can almost hear the slight crackling and snapping that happens when you fry eggs, can't you? I love that succulent sound.

The tea towel I'm using in the bathroom to wipe my hands, after washing them. Get fresh!

Bathroom still life. View from the john.

Gay Duvet! That's what I say whenever I see this duvet.

I mean, it's just SO rainbow!

It's like in "Under the Tuscan Sun" when the main character goes on a tour of Italy that's called "Gay and Away!".

Still life.

Taking time off. Breathing space. Being sick last week and HAVING to slow down showed me that-

-that's what I really want. Time to sit on the couch and forget that time exists. Not look at the clock for hours. Let the day just pass.

But it's so hard to do, to take that time when you're not sick. Why? All this rushing around, why do we do it? What are we so scared of? Scratch that - what am *I* so scared of?

I've also been feeling that the Internet and the world around is just so busy, so full, so loud. It's inspiring but it's also overwhelming. All these beautiful and wonderful images to check out! One leads to another to another... where do you stop? How do you decide when to log off?

Sometimes silence is the best new. The best change. (I find I want new and change so much - and that sometimes turning off the noise and turning off the images and just sitting in silence is the best shift. It feels like salt water on a hot day, or like drinking a mason jar of cool water when you're thirsty.)

Also I'm on Pinterest now. Check out my boards! It's really addictive and a lot of fun.

that's so sick

2011-03-25T12:36:00.000-03:00

Now, I wish I could say that I got this in the mail - or better yet, hand-delivered - this week, when my friend Joel found out I was sick. That would be pretty rad - or even, in the hip lingo the kids use these days, "sick".

The real story is pretty awesome too, though. My friend Mel and I were planning to go see a free concert of Joel at Granville Green in Port Hawkesbury, last summer, BUT I got sick. She, being the trooper she is, went anyway with some other folk, got this CD and got it signed for me. Frig Joel - she's the one who rocks. (Well, perhaps they both rock. I mean, he's Joel Plaskett.)

For some added authenticity, that's my couch, my leg in sweatpants (that haven't been changed in days) and my blanket underneath the CD.

Yup, you guessed it - a big fat flu bug came and took residence in me this week. It moved in on the weekend and is only now showing signs of maybe packing its bags.

It's thrown all my carefully-made plans into a tailspin. You know the saying, "Man plans, God laughs"? Yeah, that's been this week. God is laughing, like, super hard. "Oh, you think you're leaving on Monday for a trip that's going to include four different cities? And you'll be back in three weeks and start work pretty much the next day!? That's a GOOD ONE!! You're funny, you know that, kid?"

Yeah. A whole lot of unknowns around here at the moment. Not that life and what's to come is ever, really, known. I know that. Or, do I? Maybe that's why flu bugs come around, to teach us that. Over and over. And oh how I've been schooled.

Things that have been keeping me happy (or at least, not depressed) during my week of enforced rest:

- Q with Jian Ghomeshi. (A radio show on CBC - I'm too lazy to provide links for these things - Google is there for a reason.)
- LoveLife with Kal Barteski. And all the other blogs I usually follow.
- VaginaPagina - a community on LiveJournal that's all about women's health. It frigging rocks (just like Joel and Mel) - 30 000 other women providing answers to each others' questions about everything. And I do mean everything. There are new questions every day and I've been reading it religiously.

I don't know about you but when I'm sick my attention span is SHOT so I'm going to leave the list at three items. And probably go to sleep.

hen party

2011-03-19T18:25:00.001-03:00

The adventures never stop around here. Fresh off the heels of my last house-sit, I was asked by a friend of I would house-sit for her, for a month and a half, at her house which is a 45-min drive from my work. I'd have to take care of chickens, a rabbit and a cat, as well as use a woodstove to heat the house.

Of course, I jumped at the chance. "Yes!" I wrote back as soon as I got her email.

Oh and I have to use the Englishtown Ferry to get to and from work, every day. (This is it the other night, when I was waiting on the Englishtown side for it to come back over. I loved how the lights were reflecting off the water, and the evening was coming on.)

This is the view from my new bedroom. The Cape Breton Highlands in the background, still covered in snow. Mm hmm.

Eggs wait by the front door. Every morning I collect between four and six eggs, and I let them pile up before I wash them.

When going to the barn to check on the chickens, you've got to unhook this latch.

There's just something about latches, isn't there?

In Australia they call them "chooks". Wait, that might be the chicks. I don't know. Anyway, I love their clucking sounds.

Doing dishes, I put down this dishcloth to put drying dishes on. More chickens!

Four to six eggs a day adds up pretty fast, especially when I'm away all day working and get back in the evenings and just eat toast and yogurt, and go to bed so I can do it all again the next day. Come the weekend, it's time to wash eggs, and I find myself with two dozen. There's just something about the shape of eggs, isn't there? So beautiful, especially in the grey winter light coming in the window over the sink.

chopstick basket, part two

2011-03-13T15:09:00.003-03:00

A friend on Facebook commented and asked about what it looked like, folded up. So, there it is. The chopstick basket folds up, and that's what it looks like when it does. So nifty! I love this basket more and more each day. And don't worry, Grandmaman, I have no intention whatsoever of painting this puppy.

***

Over on Kal Barteski's blog last week, people - mostly women - have been responding to Kal's request for "ugly beautiful truths." Kal started it off by admitting she writes thank-you cards but never mails them, she feels lots of pressure to keep up with the Internet's bloggers and crafters, and that she only washes the sheets once a month. It touched a chord in lots of her readers, and people felt compelled to leave their own ugly + beautiful truths. Some left their real names, some didn't. It's in the vein of "Post Secret", that website where people send in anonymous postcards with secrets. There is something very freeing about reading them, and also about writing your own. A release.

It's gotten me thinking, certainly. Also this week, I started doing a writing exercise where I write for 10 to 15 minutes, just free writing, whatever comes to mind. Then at the end I rip up the page. Just rip it up so no-one can read it, or put it through the shredder. It's been really interesting - an exercise, literally, in letting go. I'm so used to writing in order to keep information, in order to be able to refer to it later. But with this, you really can't. You write it, then it's gone. No way to hold on to it. Even if you like the images, even if it would make a great poem, rip it up. Try it - it's really freeing.

Earlier this weekend I found myself in another town with a whole morning just to myself. No-one could reach me, I was on my own with a room (with an adjoining bathtub! So exciting for me, at home we only have a shower) and some time. So I took advantage of it. I did my daily writing exercise. As I was ripping it up, I liked the look of the random scraps, with little pieces of writing. Like mosaic shards. I arranged them. I took a picture to show you.

I also had the Globe and Mail, Saturday edition. Feeling a little guilty ("Oh, I'm ignoring world events!") but trying to let that feeling go, I only read the Style section. I came to a piece I really liked, about a designer who works with type and had made a table with her own letterforms etched in to it. I thought about keeping the page, and using it down the road in collage or somehow or other. But I decided instead to engage with it, then let it go. Here's what I did:

I didn't have any scissors. I just had my hands. So I ripped up the quote I wanted to save, and arranged it so I could fit it all in one photograph. Once I'd done that, well, there was nowhere else to go but into the recyclables. Rip up and squish the pretty, perfected plan. And then look - there's beauty there, too.

***

Then I got to writing. This past week was also International Women's Day. Some people question having such a day. "We don't need it anymore," they say. I feel like what happened on Kal's blog (what's still happening - have a look) dovetails with this holiday. Here's the free-writing I did that flowed from it.

The ugly beautiful truths

We are all here. We are imperfect. This is news? Yes, it is. Because: we live in an age of glossy magazines, of TVs that blare at us, we can't see for the glare of perfected images. Sexy and sexiness and giving in and giving it up for rewards - as women especially we are told to part our lips and make a low moaning sound. These roles can be fun but it is not all of it. It is not our every day reality.

The whole, the perfect product, comes after a lot of hard work. This is what the ugly beautiful truths is teaching me.

And I expect the opposite, I expect to just snap my fingers and have it be done. A great poem. A cake baked. A bed made. A relationship crafted and loved. A house dusted and vacuumed and kept that way. A body honed, toned. Babies raised and taught and helped to become good people. A world fair and just, with punishments for shitty deeds. A job where you feel competent and creative and conscious. A connection to the world around me, to the leaves and the trees. Actions made, having thought about them (instead of just posting crap out into the world, typing it out and hitting "post" or "send" without rereading, rethinking, letting time do its distillation of truth).

And reading these comments that women are leaving on Kal's website I see I am not the only one. We are all here, we are all imperfect. This is news? Yes, it's the daily news. It's breaking news, heart-breaking. And then, heart-making. (You've got to break things apart to make new things. Mosaics - sharp bits of ceramic.) We are all poems, we are all stories, we are all houses waiting to be dusted, we are each an equal and hearty part of a relationship in the middle of being crafted, loved. We are blood, we are feet and toes and hair and bellies, weight that stayed after making a baby, weight that came without warning, without reason, weight that won't go, weight that goes too fast, weight that just is without trying. We are hearts, minds, loves, hates, annoyed and convinced and contented and mild and strong and and and - all emotions and adjectives that men have too. We are the reason International Women's Day exists. Jill Scott asks "what would you do if I were gone?" I can't even believe the questions still exist, questioning that feminism has a need, a place.

But then again I can't believe all these amazing women have all these ugly, beautiful truths, and are ashamed of them,

and yet we do. I do.

I pick my nose.
I change my sheets three times a year, at best.
I am jealous of other women, who I should actually be supportive of.
I
I
I

I could keep going, for a long time. But I'm going to put that out there and use this exercise to get stronger. To get better at recognizing my own beauty. My own worth and inherent right to be here, imperfect as I am.

chopstick basket

2011-03-05T21:22:00.004-04:00

A couple of weeks ago when I was in PEI, I went shopping. One of the stores I went to was called Moonsnail Soapworks, that had all kinds of neat stuff like soaps, scarves, lamps, cards, artwork. I let myself go a little nuts - almost anything that struck my fancy, I decided "I'll have it." That included this basket, for $20, made out of old recycled chopsticks. (They've been steamed and sanitized.) It made me happy the second I saw it. It folds in half for easy storage and transport, but more than that, it looks so cool!

It reminds me of interlaced fingers, like holding hands with a lover, but also it looks like it's floating. It also has a shape reminiscent of a boat hull. I like the way it plays with the light, the way the stripes run, the way it has texture and pattern and depth, on top of being useful.

It sits, by the way, on the windowsill of my bedroom. These shots were not staged or set in any way - mostly because I didn't have any extra time this week for cleaning and prepping. What you see is what you get. What you get is what I see, each day.

***

I'd been thinking about some ideas that I wanted to write about on here, this week. (Basically, as the week goes along and I'm at work or shovelling the ever-loving driveway or walking somewhere or driving somewhere, I mull stuff I'm thinking about and ask myself, "What will I get to write about or light upon this week?") Something that kept coming up in me is the importance of being earnest - of being yourself, as a writer or as an artist or just as a person. I think we live in a time when, especially for twenty-somethings, being hip and ironic is the best way to guard yourself. Being earnest and expressing emotions and feelings is the opposite of that, but - the flip side of it is that - the artists, writers and people I like most are the ones who can be earnest, who can speak truth. Speak their own truth.

And I've been thinking about how that all plays out with things like personal blogs and Facebook and all those outlets we have for presenting ourselves, for expressing "who we are". I think we all spend a lot of time crafting our image, and trying not to be vulnerable - i.e. trying not to say earnest things and express emotions and feelings.

(I do think that it's possible to be earnest and express one's truth in these media forms - I try to do that here, for one, plus there are other great folks out there doing their best to do the same - but I think it's hard. I think the tendency is always there to guard oneself - for good reason - and it's hard to put personal information "out there" where anyone can read it.)

Then I heard Adele on Q this week - who, by the way, is BLOWING MY MIND with her new album, oh my god what a voice - and caught the following snippet from her interview with Jian:

Jian: Did you have any concern about outing yourself so publically? [Her new record is all about a break-up.]

Adele: I did at the beginning....[after some tabloids printed stuff, I thought] Oh that's it, I'm never writing about myself again! But I have to believe in myself, you know, believe in my songs in order to part with them and let people hear them. Do you know what I mean? Cus the artists that I like, I believe every word they sing. So I gotta make sure that I believe every word I write, otherwise I'm doomed!

And I thought - yes. Adele's work hits me in the gut - it's raw, it's real, it's young AND it's earnest AND it's also unpretentious. If she's feeling these same things and still producing art and words that really work, then I'm on the right track.

why i love this place

2011-02-25T11:27:00.001-04:00

My brother making sushi out of avocado, fried potatoes, smoked salmon, sliced ginger, tuna mix, and lots of other goodies. I like how his hands frame the roll in the making.

The back of some buildings along Main Street in Baddeck. Icicles dripping off the eaves.

The fire exit on the side of the Highwheeler Cafe.

A grocery list I found in a grocery cart at the Co-Op. I love finding random grocery lists, especially ones where the person had "Coffee for me :) " on it. Self-indulgence is good.

This shot reminds me of Shannon Leith. I gotta say, she's really inspiring me these days.

I took a walk along the highway, while house-sitting at my friend's place. I like this one because you can't see what's on the road sign, and I also like the man-made, uniform metal sign contrasts with the spiny, wild bushiness of the tree. Both stand by the road.

Mailboxes just do something for me. I dunno, they just do.

The Red Barn is a monument, a landmark. In the winter the property is snowed over while the Highlands, in the background, rest and wait for snow melt and summer tourists.

Plants that I looked at while doing the dishes, here while house-sitting.

More plants. More dishes.

I really like these lights that hang in part of the house, a curtain of stars.

The kitty I am here to take care of. I like how her shadow is also watching the toy.

Coronation Street! Finally, after a year away from it, I'm able to watch this show again. It's like seeing old friends, seeing these actors on screen again.

I love this place because of so many things: light, photographs, friends, love, nature, ice, snow, plants, cats, my job that I love, yoga, stars at night. I could go on and on: when I'm feeling it, really feeling how special it is here, everything I see is part of that love.

Driving to yoga last night, I passed the ice fishermen, which I do every day. I've always wanted to take their picture, especially as day fades to night, because their tents start to light up and look like warm lanterns against the chill.

Last night I stopped, pulled over to the side of the road, and left my car on, with the turn signal blinking (it's a busy highway, after all). I walked over to where I could take a good shot. There was a man there, also taking pictures. We shot by ourselves for a few minutes, then I went over to him and asked to see his shots. Turned out he was from PEI, just driving through, but came originally from Quebec. We spoke in French about the place where my mother is from, and about the large boats that he pilots through the Arctic ice to make his living, while the ice fishermen continued their fishing, and the light faded to night.

"in sails"

2011-02-16T20:22:00.001-04:00

Boat show scenes. Some of these shots are on the Facebook album, some are "outtakes" that didn't make it to the final album. (And one, the table with all the Elvis photos - is not from the boat show at all, but is from when I was in Halifax and I went out to eat with some friends.) I'm not going to describe them, actually, because (a) I'm pressed for time and (b) who wants to scroll up and back, up and back, to read the descriptions and look at the photos? Not me, anyway.

And since the boat show, I've been to PEI on a short road trip/long weekend, and now am back in the thick of things at work, busy and happy.

Since the last two weeks have been so busy and so filled with travel and new experiences, it's gotten me to thinking about how there IS no way to capture it ALL. I want to, certainly. I think we all do, to some degree - we yearn to take all the pictures we possibly can, to really touch and really see all the new things we're seeing, when we travel. Or just in general, when not travelling, too: to write down all the great quotes we hear that really mean something to us, or remember perfectly all the hugs and glances and smiles we receive and give in a day. In other words, to soak up like a sponge all that life gives us - and it really gives us a lot! Especially when you try and actively see ALL of life - all the little things, too - as a gift. The sun on the floor at 2:30 pm. The way the edge of the bulletin board makes such a nice angle. The way people show each other love in simple things like laughing at each others' jokes.

But there is no way to do that. That's what I struggle with - and sometimes, just accept.

road trippin

2011-02-11T07:55:00.001-04:00

I'm back from the Boat Show, and I had a complete and utter BLAST.

I intend to write about it more, but I'm about to head off to PEI for a long weekend with a girlfriend from college, who I haven't seen in four and a half years.

So, you can check out the photos on the marina's Facebook page. (For those of you who aren't on Facebook, you don't actually have to be a member to view these photos. It works just like any other website.) And when I get back, I'll be writing about all I saw at the boat show - and what it was like.

Also, I got the best line from a friend I saw while in Halifax. So simple, I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner. She said, when someone asks me what I do at the marina, I can say,

"I'm in sails."

Hitting the road! Hoping you're having a wonderful Valentine's Day week.

one, two, three, poetry

2011-01-27T11:54:00.001-04:00

So the marina where I work is going to the Halifax International Boat Show next week. I'm going along. It's the first time I've been to the boat show, the first time I've been to any sort of show or promotion for this particular job, and the second time I'll be driving to Halifax by myself.

In preparation for the Boat Show, I've been going through a buttload of photos that are on the computer, to get photos for our booth's slide show. There a lot of photos that look like these three above: sort of interesting from a "random art" point of view, and worthwhile for the mechanics and technicians who worked on the boats, who know why exactly they took these pictures, but not interesting for the general boating public who will be viewing the slide show just to find out about Baddeck and Dundee Marine and the projects we do. So this is what I'm doing today: clicking through folders and folders worth of photos, separating out the interesting ones. There are a LOT of photos like these ones that aren't coming to the Boat Show with us. They remind me of Shannon Leith and how she's able to make odd and random photographs into absolutely stunning and interesting works of art. It's all how you look at it, and I'm liking the looking.

***

Over on Kal Barteski's blog, which I check in with every day, there's a new baby! First there was Pilot, then there was Penn, and now Poet. Three little girls who live in Winnipeg with their mum Kal and dad Dan. It's interesting - they're not names I would choose for babies, as I'm more a fan of classic and simple than creative and "out there". But, they work. Congrats to Kal, Dan, Pilot and Penn on the new addition to their family.

***

I had heard of this video but hadn't watched it, until yesterday. It's called "How To Be Alone", and it's based on a poem by a Halifax poet and singer-songwriter, Tanya Davis. She's also in the video performing the poem. The filmmaker is Andrea Dorfman. It's about three or four minutes, and it is just absolutely stunning.

More next week after the Boat Show! And, if you're in the Halifax area and you're into boats, stop in to booth #506 - that's where I'll be!

obvious

2011-01-21T15:21:00.000-04:00

I came in from shovelling the other day, soaked to the skin because the snow was wet. I hung my hat up on a nail on a beam that goes across the area where we take our shoes off. I don't normally hang things up here - perhaps this is why it all went down the way it did. This area is also pretty central to the house - we pass through it all the time, to go from living room to kitchen and back again, to go to the basement, to go outside. I hung the hat up on the nail to dry, then promptly forgot about it.

For days afterward I was wondering where my hat had gotten off to. I have other hats, so it wasn't urgent. But then I wanted to wear that particular one - for reasons too mundane to go into even on one's own personal blog - and I searched the house up and down for it. Standing in the area where we take our shoes off, I queried my housemates - "Have you seen my hat?" No-one had.

"Huh," I said. "It's a mystery."

Mum said, "Do you mean this hat?" She pointed above my head. There on the nail in the beam above my head, was the very hat I'd been puzzling over.

"Well, mystery solved!" I said.

That got me thinking about obvious. It was so obvious! Yet I didn't even see it. What else is obvious?

Here's one - and even thinking about writing about it got me nervous, despite the anonymity of my confession - something else obvious is when you like someone. (Which, hey, big surprise, I do.) When you've got a crush so big you think, "OK, this must be so obvious. Surely when he looks me in the eye he must SEE what I'm feeling. Is my face really that impermeable? Because, it really doesn't feel like it." Yet - nothing changes. You're able to pretend you don't feel what you feel. You don't want to be obvious.

To be obvious is to be vulnerable. To be in the way, to put your feelings out there where someone can see them. To hang them on the nail on the beam in the middle of the house. And yet - maybe you'd do that and still no-one would pay attention. After all, it's possible with a hat.

i heart

2011-01-14T13:02:00.001-04:00

I'm probably the "Dwight Schrute" of snow shovelling. In other words, I'm a big dork about it. I have a "strategy" for how best and most efficiently to shovel. I time myself. I don't take my water bottle with me, thinking of myself as a sort of survivalist snow shoveller who sustains herself by eating... snow. I have a whole get-up: my new Helly Hansen long underwear, a pair of cheap splash pants (that conveniently have buttons down the sides so if I'm in the middle of a heavy session I can just rip them off - very "athletic"), a sports bra, and my usual workout gear on top.

And thankfully, we've been getting some snow to shovel. December was all about rain and it was really dreary. Now there is snow on the ground, snow storms on the forecast and snow shovels at the ready - well, actually a big snow scoop, which I find a lot easier on the back and neck.

On top there is a heart made of buttons. We've been purging our house of excess stuff, which coincides nicely with the New Year. (As a symbol, it's one of my favorites.) I found a squirrely stash of the little baggies you get with a new shirt, the ones that have a button and a piece of thread in them, that I'd been keeping for several years. Since I just got rid of a lot of clothes, too, and since I've never once had to turn to this stash to replace a button, I figured it was time to free the buttons from their baggies. It's also time for them to join the bigger stash of buttons in the sewing basket. First, though, I arranged them in a heart shape. Because as shapes go, it's one of my favorites.

Plus: one month from today is Valentine's Day!

(Where is the year going?)

view

2011-01-08T10:47:00.001-04:00

These photos were all taken within a 30 meter radius of each other.

The top one was taken yesterday morning or perhaps the morning before. I arrived at work with a few minutes to spare, and parked facing the lake. The cold morning was warming up, and there was mist rising off the lake. I don't know if you can really see it here or not, but it was there. It was cold - I've already said that, but that's OK. The sun was rising just behind the island, across the little harbour from the marina. The sky and the light in it was clear. I stood and watched it, taking pictures, just watching the mists slowly moving across the surface of the water. So often I just rush right into work - it was nice to just stand and watch.

The middle one I took just a few minutes ago. I'm sitting in the library, looking out at the same harbour, which is now grey and has snow softly falling into it. I really liked the pattern that the tire tracks made in the snow in the parking lot down below. They make parts of circles, intersecting. Lines. It looks like someone with a big piece of paper just playing with form - making wide arcs with charcoal, or something. A looseness about them.

I'm taking the day to sit in the library, and catch up on stuff. I'm rather excited about it. It feels good to catch up - catch up with your own life. "OK you, slow down, let me catch you, let me do some maintenance. Then you can go running off again." I'm hidden behind some stacks, I can hear when people come in the library and chat with the librarian, and I can hear their voices and try and guess who they are. But I'm sitting alone by the window, looking out at the snow.

(That's the third photo - inside the library. The old wooden tables and chairs. Haphazard comfort.)

There was a little boy here earlier, whose mother I know. They came down back to look around the children's area and take some books home. He's three years old. He ran over to me and picked up the jar of raisins, dried cranberries and sunflower seeds that I took with me for a snack.

"What's THIS?" He asked.

"Oh, that's my snack." I said. "Do you have snacks sometimes?"

"Yeah. But not now."

Later he came back down. "I think I'm going to have some," he said. "Of the snack."

His mother, at the front of the library, could hear him. "David, it's not nice to ask people for things. Wait until you're offered."

"You can have some," I said, after checking with her. I handed him a raisin, and a cranberry. He handed the cranberry back, "I don't like cranberries." But his eyes grew wide at the raisin.

"David, where's your manners?" His mother called.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome, dear," I said, calling him "dear" automatically. The Maritimes make me call people dear, hon, buddy. He was twenty feet away already - kids move so fast. He turned around.

"What did you call me?"

"Dear!"

He giggled and ran away. I could hear him say to his mother, "Do you know what that girl said to me?"

"What did she say?"

"You're welcome, dear!" and he laughed.

"You ARE a dear," his mother said.

I think trading a raisin for that is a good bargain.

happy new year - 2011!

2010-12-29T17:08:00.000-04:00

I think I may have an addiction to Boggle. Have you ever played? The old-school version was a tray with a removable lid. This new version that I got for my brother for Christmas is twistable, so the lid lifts but doesn't come off. You shake the letters, then twist it back down again. Then you have three minutes to make words out of the letters. You form lines to make the words, and letters have to be next to each other, or diagonal. You can't use the same letter twice in one word. Here, you could make POO, LOO, OPT, SLOE, SLOT - and many more. No proper nouns, no abbreviations. It's so addictive! My family and I have been playing for hours and hours. Time goes by super fast when you're playing - and each round is over quickly. "Oh, just one more," we say. Before we know it, hours have gone by.

It's time for some hope, some good news, some cheer. Yes, the holidays have been difficult for me this year, and I'm not entirely sure why. (Although I have some ideas.) But - although that's life - it's not fun to read about. At least, not all the time. (I try to write somewhat about mental health issues - because I really believe that we should all remove the stigma from it, as much as we can. But it's also very personal - so I work to strike a balance between what is interesting to readers, what I'm comfortable with sharing, and what's relevant.)

I've remembered a tattoo that a friend of mine got once - dum spiro spero. "While I breathe, I hope." While I am here, alive, while there is breath in my body to go forward with, I will go forward. I will hope, I will believe in the goodness of people. In surprises, the surprises that life always has in store.

2010 - was the year of getting my first car. Driving to Halifax all by myself. Getting the job at the marina. Leaving the library. Writing more - but also realizing it was time to end the Writers' Group I had started, and continue on with three other writers as a smaller, private group. For the first time since leaving university three years ago - and taking time to recover from illness - I had a full-time job again. In fact, I got quite busy working two jobs, and had to learn to set my limits. As always. These lessons - they keep coming back.

2011 - where will it take me? I have no idea. I've got some hope - some interesting ideas. Looking for some direction, trying to be open. I suppose whatever happens, I'll keep you posted!

Also, December 18th marked the eighth year I've had this blog. That seems a bit nutty. I was 18 when I started it, and I'm 26 now. I feel like so much has changed - I look back on my 18-year-old self thinking, "My god, I was so young!"

But yeah - thanks to you readers, for reading. For leaving comments. I get so much from your feedback and from knowing I have an audience.

May the New Year bring you many, many good things - peace and happiness and downtime and love. See you there!

because life goes on

2010-12-24T14:44:00.000-04:00

despite the rain,
despite the leaking chimney that I have lately been calling "an asshole" or a jerk,
despite being sick and needing antibiotics and missing the last two days of work before
our week's vacation,
(including the pizza party and the card giving and the wellwishing)
and now being groggy because of the antibiotics, making me feel even slower than normal, even more tired than I was, which then makes me anxious (is it happening again? what will ever become of me?) -
despite my bedroom being an un-cozy mess - because the of the chimney leaving a flood zone across it, and having to move things to higher ground or out of the room
despite feeling like my whole life is a mess - nothing where it is meant to be, goals and dreams from ten years ago abandoned, each day a new "adventure" of learning what anxiety and depression are going to teach me -

because it is the time of darkness and we all need to gather together around lights
because none of us know when we'll die, or what will become of our life
because of friends, on telephones. friends, offering visits and little presents.
because of "ninjabread" men that friends make.
because of tiny Christmas trees that one of the family mustered up the energy to get, cut down, bring in, decorate.
because of a family doctor who is busy, but yet kind, kind enough that I cry in his office.

because of a walk last week to the Bell Museum to take photos, in the windy dark with a full moon looming over the lake - and walking there, with my camera, I felt "this is who I am, this feels like ME".

because of all this. despite all of it, too. Merry Christmas. Out of darkness, into light. Let's go.

comfort and joy

2010-12-16T09:05:00.000-04:00

This is an ornament that my grandmother sent us in the mail. Mum hung it on the banister by the stairs, next to the only Christmas lights we have up so far (and possibly the only ones we WILL have - it seems we're all too busy and/or burned out to get the whole "tree" thing happening). I really like the way it reflects the lights. And I like this shot above, even though it's blurry. Maybe even because it's blurry. Life's not perfect. It's far from it. It's messy and hard and uncontrollable. Yet here we are.

Also, after spending a few minutes photographing it last night, I realized it looks a bit like an angel - the rays coming out from the candle like the wings.

There was a huge rain-and-wind storm earlier this week. The middle of the country got a dump of snow, and we got a dump of rain, and winds about as strong as when Hurricane Earl blew through in September. The power went out and so Tuesday morning I got to make my breakfast by the light of a kerosene lamp.

This is the pot of oatmeal simmering away on the propane stove. That blue light, so comforting.

Another day - it may have been Sunday - I was outside. Taking pictures of the birdfeeder. I stood still long enough that the birds starting coming around me. THRUP. THRUP. The constant "thrupping" of their wings as they moved from branch to branch, getting ever closer to the bird feeder and to me, was so loud! I felt surrounded by the birds, the sound of them moving, their little chirps and "chick-a-dee-dee"s. None of the pictures were amazing, crystal-clear or centered, but I liked this one. Lifting off the branch, flying.

I love a light dusting of snow.

This was my car this morning - the frost patterns on the roof. So beautiful. It would take a person so long to draw something this intricate, yet it just happened. Water meets cold.

the time I almost moved, then didn't

2010-12-11T09:01:00.001-04:00

Well, I'm well-rested right now. I had a great night's sleep and the world feels like a solid place again. But that wasn't the case yesterday. I was exhausted.

All night, I'd lain in my bed, not sleeping, turning onto one side or the other, hoping that side would be the magic bullet that would help me turn my head off and go to sleep. It wouldn't, so I'd lie there trying to calm my breathing, then turn onto my other side. The anxiety was there the whole time - thoughts running through my brain. Fears. I'm going to move, and I'll lose all my money and be broke. How will I afford it? All my neighbours will watch my every move. I'll have no privacy in this small town. There are houses all around me. I won't be able to walk outside and just sit and look up at the stars. Or go outside wearing my bathrobe. Or or or...

And so on. Over and over, a cycle without end.

I'd been planning to move. I had an apartment lined up, accounts with the power and phone companies started, friends agreeing on a date to lend trucks and hands to move my furniture. It felt a bit sudden, but not, at the same time. This was an apartment I'd had my eye on for a year or so. The person living in it was having a house built, and these things take a while. The landlord got in touch a few weeks ago to tell me the tenant was moving out soon. I mulled it, I added and subtracted numbers on paper. I figured - I can do it. It'll be a bit tight, but I can do it. I've been wanting to move, so dammit, I will!

The emotions started coming right away. Guilt at leaving my family when we were all kind of getting used to living with each other, sadness at leaving my comfortable home - and my cats! Good lord, I was goig to miss my cats. The apartment wouldn't allow pets and anyway it wouldn't be fair to take a country, outdoor kitty and move her into town. When I wouldn't be home all day. Also, there was excitement - my own place! my own space! a bathtub! and nervousness.

And as it was when I was in university, the anxiety manifested at night. I'd lie down to go to sleep and couldn't. And of course, lying there, thinking: I can't sleep and ohmigod I'm going to be so tired tomorrow, I'll be tired at work, I'll lose my job - it feeds itself. It's hard to make it stop. Make the thoughts lie down, be peaceful.

I took some melatonin. It worked some nights. But I'd feel groggy the next day. And other nights it didn't work, and then I'd lie there terrified. I have no defense against this. Even the pills didn't work. I have to just lie here and take it.

Night before last was the worst. My world felt shrunken down, scary. I felt like I was losing it - tired and out of it. What if I lose my job because I'm too tired? What if I lose myself, again? There is nothing the doctors can really do besides prescribe medication. Not being able to sleep is not something they can operate on. It's entirely internal.

Finally the moment came when I admitted it to myself. This is too much. I'm so not willing to put myself through this. I value myself and my sanity more than showing other people I'm so-called "independent". I value my job too much to sabotage my health.

So, when the morning came, I made some phone calls. I admitted my anxiousness, made myself vulnerable. To my family, with whom I usually set strict boundaries so I don't feel so much like a kid, I admitted I was scared. They said they loved me and they would support me no matter what I did. "Welcome home," they said, though I hadn't packed a single box yet.

I made food that was exactly what I wanted to eat - a toasted cheese and cucumber sandwich. Later, a frozen chicken pot pie, baked and warm, with beet pickles. I took a long walk along a dirt road with freshly fallen snow, hands in my pockets. (I remember reading somewhere, some time ago, that if you walk with your hands in your pockets, it is because you are in a thoughtful mood.) I played card games with my brother, who was also home sick from work. We watched The Office, some of season three. I talked to some girlfriends, who told me, "This is a GOOD thing. You're listening to yourself. Respecting yourself."

Last night, I slept well. I sunk into sleep like a rock into water. And just two days later - two days that feel like they held a whole week - I'm back at work. Taking it one day, one breath at a time. Working on trusting life, trusting that it holds all kinds of good things, and that they'll come along as I'm ready for them.

"it's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees"

2010-12-02T13:42:00.000-04:00

Flossie and I decorated the marina store for Christmas. A mixture of old decorations (like this bell with lights) and new ones that I got at Home Hardware. I realized as I was getting them that I've never actually bought Christmas decorations before. My family has only ever used ones we've had - it feels like - forever.

This is the front of the store. At 4:30 PM. Our artificial tree - which, in the dark, looks just as good as a real one. I kind of get why people use artificial trees, now.

Last weekend I had to go to Iona for a meeting. (I'm a member of the Board of Directors for the Bras D'Or Lakes Stewardship Society.) Of course I took my camera along. Above: the Little Narrows ferry.

After the meeting, which was in a boardroom at the Highland Village, I jumped a fence and went walking around the musuem. It's a recreated village from the 1800's, built on a hill overlooking one of the Bras d'Or Lakes. The sun was just setting.

The church, by the way, used to be in a community across the lake called Malagawatch. I remember being in Australia a hundred years ago - OK, maybe it was just seven - and reading an international news item about a church being brought on a float along a lake, and it turned out to be home in Cape Breton. And now it sits on top of the hill looking out.

Driving back I went over Washabuck mountain. The road is falling apart, it's more patches than original pavement. It was getting dark and I felt lonely. I saw driveways to summer homes that are empty at this time of year. I saw houses with people in them but wondered - are they all old people? Where are the young people? It feels, sometimes, like everyone here is just one decision away from pulling up roots and heading out West. Then the whole island would be a relic, a historical museum.

Then, last week I started taking a walk on my lunch break. Around Water Street and then up by the Co-Op. I take my camera with me then, too. Partly so I can keep track of the time, and partly to take random pictures. Above: the lighthouse and Beinn Bhreagh mountain behind it. (That's where Alexander Graham Bell used to live.)

This is taken from pretty much the same place, just looking more to the left. This is the wee village of Baddeck. At least, the waterfront portion of it.

Wood and lines. A piece of driftwood up against a building. Telephone wire and a pole, and trees. And a close-up of another telephone pole. I like the texture of the wood, the staples, the rusty nail. The colors - bleached white, browns, dark brown. The knot. Even in a town that goes to some lengths to appear smooth and quaint and perfect, there is texture, age, lines. Rot and change and industry. And that's OK too.

a horse on top of a horse

2010-11-24T09:39:00.001-04:00

Well, I did it! I drove to Halifax. (This is not my car. The black on the bottom right, is my car.) We were stopped for construction for the fourth time - no joke - and noticed there was a rainbow in the rearview mirror.

At Antigonish we turned down onto the Eastern Shore route, and went through Sherbrooke. As I was driving, my friend Mel was in charge of taking pictures.

In Sherbrooke we stopped to eat lunch. There in a tiny cafe in a tiny town, was a girl I had gone to High School with. Just an hour before, driving along and talking, Mel and I were talking about High School, about prom and graduation. And then there was Genevieve, who I hadn't seen in about seven years. She lives there now. It was neat to catch up, to sit with someone I used to see every day. The past doesn't stay static, people continue to live and grow.

(There was a little bridge across a little brook - which I called the "Sure, Brook" even though it very likely wasn't. And I liked the colors. They are the colors I wear a lot - bright blues and pinks.)

The drive along the Eastern Shore was beautiful. Lots of little coves and islands. I had to pull over to take a picture, just to remember it. So we wouldn't just pass it by with our talking and music and driving along.

A place we stopped for gas. I liked the sign and the clouds behind.

The view from our hotel room. The busy intersection of Robie, Quinpool, Bell and Cogswell roads/streets. And I made it through! Despite arriving at rush hour - good planning there! - with a good navigator (Mel with the map) it seems anything is possible.

The ceiling of a Chinese restaurant where we went to eat before the concert.

You weren't supposed to take pictures during the performance, so I shut the flash off and snuck a couple. They're blurry but that's OK. This is Michael Kaeshammer with his band. I didn't get any of Jill Barber. The whole show was - jazzy, on time, snappy, sparkly, beautiful rhythms and music. I must have whispered to Mel twenty times - I love this! or I'm in love!

On the walk back, Mel's new, cute shoes hurt her feet. She took them off and walked in her sock feet. It was cold but clear. This is our hotel, the Atlantica. I love the geometry and the pattern of light of windows in a big building, at night.

The next morning we set out walking. The wall waved to us.

At Cora's on Dresden Row, massive breakfast waited. I got a crepe filled with fruit and chocolate/hazelnut spread. Oh my my. From eleven am, I was full until roughly 4 or 5 pm.

Wandering around the downtown. So much public art, so little time. This is in honor of the direction my life has taken me with my latest employment.

Freak Lunchbox is a candy store on Barrington Street. (Visit their website, if nothing else, for the hip hop music that plays.) We went in. Color, smells of sugar, and so many different kinds of candy. This is a display of jellybeans.

Have I mentioned how much I love graffiti and public art? I just really do. Bringing color and verve and ideas to a public space. Something so great about that. I also love taking people's portraits up against colorful and neat walls. I wasn't going to post this - I'm feeling rather self-conscious these days - but then I thought - what the hell. I could die tomorrow. What does it REALLY matter? And, you all get to see my pink coat in all its glory.

Love, Me Boutique. They have all handmade stuff. This is a display of keys that is not for sale, but just for beauty. I kind of really like it.

Felt bangles bought from Love, Me. I'm wearing them as I type. They're so wintery, so "snuggle up and get cozy." They're lying on a merino wool tank top I bought at MEC for doing yoga in. I was sick of wearing either a too-tight old workout top from years ago, or a baggy tee shirt that either rode up or got too hot, or both. So I treated myself to some workout gear that fits, and looks good.

And we came back to this. To winter. On the drive home, as we got closer and closer to Cape Breton, there was more and more snow on the roadsides. And then once we were home it snowed some more. Today it's snowing again - and I'm resolving to love it. I didn't at first - grumpy me came to the surface and grumped about having to worry about the weather, having to clear off the car, et cetera. And I took it seriously until a few days had gone by and I realized, Nah, that's no fun. Better to grump a little bit, then look at the snow falling and rejoice. Re-find joy.

The often-photographed lighthouse of my hometown. And a big fat icicle that for once gets to be bigger than a lighthouse.

***

I've been reading "Long Quiet Highway" by Natalie Goldberg, she of "Writing Down the Bones," possibly the best book about writing out there. "Long Quiet Highway" is her memoir. It's also really good. In it she talks about Zen Buddhism, and her teachers. One of them said something about not complicating things. "Don't put a horse on top of a horse," he says, "and then try to ride it."

It makes so much sense. And it's something I do all the time, put that horse on top of another horse. Complicate things. Well, I'm resolving to take the horse down. Just have the one.

***

A blog I'm reading these days is Emily Falconbridge. She's a cool Aussie chick with long dreads and a beautiful family of three kids and a husband. Right now they live in New England. She has an Etsy shop with felted materials, and she writes about art, her kids, her adventures, her feelings. Her kids' names are Ivy, Banjo and Yindi. Doesn't that make you want to find out more? Her blog and her family have won over my heart with their sweetness, their simple beauty, their take on life.

"hi," said the sidewalk

2010-11-17T16:03:00.000-04:00

One day in a foggy little town by the lake...

It was late Fall with the smell of Winter in the air.

Most of the leaves had fallen but there were still some colorful sights to be seen.

"Hi," said the sidewalk.

The girl looked at the map. "How will I get there?" She wondered. "Will I drive there, for the first time? I'm nervous - and I've never driven in a town that big yet. But I think - I will."

After all, she had nearly-front row tickets to see a very special concert on Thursday night!

Halifax - here we come!

make me human. keep me humble.

2010-11-10T15:55:00.001-04:00

It's my own fault, really. I read blogs of women who are accomplished photographers and graphic designers, and then when it comes time for my own weekly blog post, I feel

inadequate and

like I've got nothing to show.

Plus most of the time these days I find I walk around with less-than-inspiring thoughts. Tired, just-want-to-get-out-of-my-work-clothes-and-curl-up-with-a-chick-lit-novel-and-escape thoughts. Lately it's been hitting me, over and over like a dodgeball, or - what was that ball called that was attached to a rope, that was attached to a pole, and it would spin around and you'd hit it? Whatever that ball was called, my thoughts are like that these days. Spinning back around, hitting me again.

Here's what keeps coming back at me - you're human, kid.

You'd have thought I would KNOW this. My blog is called "humin bean" for goodness' sakes. And it's not like I'm some other species. But it seems that I go around thinking I'm supposed to be better than human, that I'm supposed to always be thinking inspired, powerful, grounded and sensible thoughts. Or getting my life "figured out", as if a person's LIFE can be summed up and then conquered by a really great PLAN.

But instead of always being some super-human, inspired and positive radiant being, a good portion of the time I'll feel cranky, irritable, annoyed at things. Or jealous of other people's success. Or seriously putting off looking at my financial stuff. (I really, really hate budgeting, it seems. It makes me really uncomfortable to sit down with my papers and a calculator and crunch numbers.) Or just down on myself.

And every time I think something along those lines, a voice pipes up with hey, you're human, kid. As in, cut yourself some slack. Every single person out there feels the same way sometimes. It's all a part of the thing called life, and life wouldn't be normal without these feelings.

Still though, I forget. I ignore the truth. Then the dodgeball - or whatever it was called - comes spinning around the pole again. Have compassion for yourself. Smack. Smack. Smack.

So when it comes to posting on my blog, I need to remember: not only am I human, but I'm allowed to write whatever the heck I want. It doesn't have to be some amazing photo shoot of really interesting and beautiful things, or an inspired re-telling of a fantastic event, or even a creative interpretation of day-to-day stuff. It can just be - this.

And that feels brave.

***

Clocks fell backward and we returned to Standard Time. Now when I am done work at 5 pm, it's dark out. It always feels like a surprise, this time of year. The darkness coming on at 4 pm - right now, in fact - like an invitation to go to bed early. To snuggle up, to wear drawstring velour pants. To breathe out. To realize, the year is almost over, and that's OK.

slushy rain and sushi in Sydney

2010-11-04T08:50:00.001-03:00

Last weekend I headed for North River. The same people who put together the fabulous writers' festival, partnered with Cape Breton University and offered a workshop. A way to get the university out into the community. Six hours of writing. Thirty dollars. A professor to talk about narrative and short stories and beginnings. 10 am on a Saturday. I'm not a fan of giving up my free time but this seemed a no-brainer.

It's a thirty minute drive but there's construction on the way. I gave myself lots of time and ended up being early. So I was able to stop on the way, park and take some pictures and look out over the water. Think, how lucky am I. (Above is: my jeans, my pink Lole coat, my blue scarf. In dreary late Fall, I've got to have fierce colour.)

I kept going. I held the camera up as I drove. Snapped randomly, hoping it would somehow grab the beauty.

The Oregon Road. I took a short walk down it, since I was early. Thought about how many times I had walked or biked or drove down this road, heading to a piece of land, to friends, to a lover. How much that stretch of road used to mean to me. Still does mean. The friends and the lover have gone back to the US, their buildings and land no longer lived in or repaired. I've lost touch with those people - I haven't kept in touch. And unless I'm there in North River, I don't really think of them. Then I walk down the road and it's like I'm back in time. Back there again.

I really liked the way these raspberry canes by a brook looked, with green at the bottom progressing upward to yellow then red, so uniformly. Like something Andy Goldsworthy would have done on purpose, yet here it just was.

In the hall, coffee was on. We filled mugs and sat around a big table. Do not forget that though you may be discussing prose, imagery, symbolism here in this hall, it is also used for darts. For other community gatherings. And they are no less meaningful. Useful.

(The hall is also used for Bingo.)

Driving home in the slushy rain with so much to think about. Stopped for the ever-loving construction. I love the way headlights and streetlights look through a rain-covered windshield.

Boats up on stands. This gravel was used as a parking lot all summer. Now it is storage. The boats people came to float away on, now hauled in and put on jack-stands. Supported, settling in for winter.

Another day this week I drove to Sydney. Coming over Kelly's Mountain there was some rain, edging towards snow. I stopped at the lookoff, I had to, there was this massive cloud over the Seal Island Bridge. This above is what you saw looking to your left. Then below is what was to the right.

Driving into Sydney on Kings Road, a sign advertised sushi. "Oki Maka Sushi, 196 Charlotte St." What?!? Sushi in Sydney? What I've wanted for so long? I've got to check this out. I decided I would look for it after my appointment.

Walking into the building where my appointment was, I saw this graffiti. Close enough, I thought. Looks like today is sushi day.

And so I found them. With an hour to spare before they closed. I think I'll probably end up doing a whole post about them - I took more pictures than this. Overall it was good, a little on the bland side but fresh. I liked the spicy salmon roll the best, I suppose because it had the most flavor. But honestly? I was really happy just to be IN a sushi restaurant, on Cape Breton Island. Smelling pickled ginger and soy sauce.

Back to work. The calendar here at work - with the lovely typography, you remember - has this image for November. I think it fits - as dreary as it is, because hey, November IS dreary! Some dude out shooting with his dogs. The leaves off the trees. The sky grey. I can almost hear the lonely singular sound of the gunshot. Then grey silence.

The tree under which I park my car. Look up, look way up. This is November. Already, here it is, the second last month. We get ready to fall back an hour - I don't know if I'll ever entirely understand Daylight Savings, but whatever - and keep on falling, falling into winter. Falling in love with our own projects. Our own faults and flaws. Nature changes and time relentlessly moves forward and so with it, do we.

what yoga taught me, this week

2010-10-28T10:48:00.001-03:00

Another rushed blog post in between work items. Writing and hoping nothing interrupts for the next ten minutes. And in that time, trying to get something resembling my thoughts on things - or some thing - for the last week, out into the Internet.

(Having to rush and blog from work like this is mostly because, at the end of my work day, I don't have much time at home. And I don't feel like hauling out my new laptop, which I don't really like using, and connecting to dial-up, another pain in the butt, and then sitting at my desk in the middle of the living room with a big pile of messiness all around, and writing. I'd rather - make my supper, and my lunch for the next day, and have a few minutes of downtime by myself, before going to bed at 9 pm like I've been doing lately, so that I can get enough sleep.)

Yoga started back up and at first I was hating it. Like, my brain was kicking and screaming as I'd get ready to go. I'd feel like I just barely made it through the hour session. Going into a pose and hating it every second, every breath. My legs and arms and torso feeling weak, and then berating myself for the weakness. My face warm and my body tired. I started to wonder what was so different from when I was taking yoga before the summer, when I was genuinely enjoying it, even the difficult poses.

But then last night I went and a few things were different. First, I didn't eat shortly beforehand. I'd eaten a late enough lunch that I was still mostly full from it, so I didn't have to grab a snack or meal before the class.

Second, I spent the time before yoga in my room, being quiet. Not rushing to do something, but just sitting on my bed. Writing in my journal. Petting my cat. Then I put on some new yoga pants that are more spandex-y than my old, cotton-y ones. And I played a song that gets me pumped up, and jumped around my room a little. "I'm going to kick butt," I thought. Then I remembered how Faye, the instructor, says to release all attachment with the outcome, and release all competition. "OK, so I'll kick my OWN butt. And if I don't, that's OK too."

I went. I don't know if it was the spandex-y pants, or the fact that we're a couple of weeks into it now and I'm getting stronger, or what, but I genuinely enjoyed the class again. I went into my breath and challenged myself, and instead of hating every second of it, I actually liked it. Well, maybe "like" is a strong word. But, I was getting something from it, instead of feeling like I was putting all my energy in, for nothing. And I could feel how my body has changed in the past two weeks. Going into "plank", I could feel my arms holding me up. Strong, sturdy, ABLE.

I feel like I have some challenges right now that are long-term challenges. Saving my money so I can move out, while feeling secure. (As opposed to moving out right-the-heck-now, like I sometimes want to, but being stressed about money.) Getting stronger through yoga and other exericise. Figuring out if I have a "next move" - like school, or a career, or what - and if so, what it is. These are things that take time to figure out, that take time to accomplish. And I'm impatient. I like instant gratification. I need some reinforcement each day, and sometimes you don't get that. Sometimes it feels like you're stuck, like you're just HERE, and you're not moving forward. Just holding a pose.

But if you breathe through it, you do get better at it.

natural beauties

2010-10-22T08:42:00.001-03:00

Another week gone by. And where are we now? Where am I now that I wasn't a week ago? Physically, the same place. The same coordinates on the earth. But each week a little different.

I present: a hodgepodge of photos from the past week or so. The one above: heading to work one morning. Making the turn from a dirt road onto a paved one, and I see the view I see every morning. Every morning thinking, I should stop and take a picture. Usually having a reason not to. This particular morning, stopping the car, getting out, standing there in the frosty air, looking out at the lake and the mist. Breathing it in. Listening to the quiet. So... quiet.

Frosty roadside rosehips. Their colour a burst to the eyes, like the leaves turning color. Ta Da! We're here! Check us out! Red! One of Fall's surprises.

A trip down the North Shore with Flossie brought us to Little River. A swimming beach and a port for lobster boats. If you drive past both those things, you get here, a rocky shoreline.

I walked a little ways away from Flossie to take photos and when I turned around again this is what I saw. Flossie in her element.

It's the details at the beach that I love so much. The bumps along the underside of a dead crab claw. The hardy plants and the driftwood.

The starry symmetry of a plant lying flat along the stones.

I got to work early one morning - having allowed time to be held up in construction, and then there wasn't any - and so I walked out onto the wharf. The clouds and the sun and their movement together was just gorgeous. This lighthouse gets photographed so many times by tourists - what's one more?

Down an old road that used to go to a ferry, and which is now falling into disrepair. (Yes, Big Harbour, I'm talking about you.) I drove down there for fun and saw this building, which, admittedly, I have always known was there. This is a place my family used to frequent for swimming. But this particular time I decided - take a picture. This is a neat thing.

Fires to keep us warm into the winter. Mat and a friend lit a fire in our firepit, and just before I went to bed at the early hour of nine p.m., I went out to it to take some photos. In the upper right hand corner is our porch light and the deck. I so love photographing campfires. It's like the fire cooperates, is part of the process. You never know what cool lines and squiggles the sparks will make!

So that is "these days". Frosts, fires, early mornings, early nights. Seeking some comfort in beauty, in what surrounds us, in pictures, in words. Going along, pushed forward, ever forward by the movement of days. Of sun and wind and water.

See you next week. Where will you go this week?

***

cabot trail writers' festival (october 1-3)

2010-10-13T19:06:00.003-03:00

Every week I come to the blog posting time feeling a number of things. One is excitement, that jazzed up feeling of getting ready to create, of feeling good about creating. Inspired to present my life and my past week, to be inspired by it. The other is a nervousness, somewhat similar to when I write creatively in other ways or paint or make art (although these days I haven't made much art). The difference is that with this creation, once I click on "publish," it's out there for the world to see. That makes me want to spend more time refining it, reading it over, checking it to make sure it's exactly how I want it to be. The impression I want to make (or think at the time that I'm making). And most of the time I don't actually have the time for this kind of revision. In fact, sometimes I even write while at work, while standing at the front desk computer, with the phone ringing and customers coming in and out. Not the best way to focus!

So here we are again. The eve of a Thursday. I'm at the library - although not working! sitting at a computer in the CAP site - thinking that perhaps it's a good idea to invest some downtime into a blog post, so I don't feel rushed and frustrated about it. It's a quiet evening in Baddeck, although there are still tourists around. It's the middle of Celtic Colours week - a 10-day festival celebrating Cape Breton celtic music, and the various offshoots of culture. Like dance, Gaelic, story-telling.

Last weekend, not the Thanksgiving one but the weekend before, I attended the second annual Cabot Trail Writers' Festival, held in North River. I used to spend summers in North River - from 2002 all the way to 2006. I could say more about my time there - and what it was like to go back there - but first let's get started on the photos.

Above: On the way to North River, stopped for construction. This is the season for road-building, it seems. They're re-doing a big stretch of the Cabot Trail on the way to North River, as well as the road between the village of Baddeck and my house. Yes, it's a pain in the butt, and yes, I was late when I took this photo, but at the same time it's fun to watch the work being done, and feel the new, smoother road beneath your tires.

This is the second floor at Kathy and Donald's, the house where I used to board. The feet are all mine.

So I got to North River that Saturday morning and spent the day in workshops with the likes of Michael Crummey and Sheree Fitch. It was really good to sit with other writers and talk about writing. About the guts of it, the mechanics of how it is done. Although, I'll admit, it was scary and kind of intense, too. Mainly because I was tired - and social situations always take a lot out of me. And because it was one of those things where you want to get as much as you possibly can out of it - meet as many folks, learn as many tricks. Which, is tiring.

That evening, after a brief nap and meal back at Kathy and Donald's, I went back to the North River hall. A local playwright had adapted an Alastair MacLeod short story into a cross between a dramatic reading and a play. The above photo is the empty stage waiting for players. And some empty chairs both in the audience and onstage.

And after the play? Music, of course! Festival attendees and local people talked to one another while Rocky Shore played traditional tunes. It's funny how photos are quiet - but the scene when this photo was taken was quite loud!

Up on the stage a little bookstore was set up. A local potter made these little plates.

I stood on the stage to take this photo. I love that my friends Ruth and Aaron are dancing in the background.

The next morning - Sunday. I woke tired, but determined to take in the last of the festival. I left the car at Kathy and Donald's and walked to the hall, the same walk I used to do every day to work in the pottery shop. This is the view from the North River Bridge, looking north.

And this is what you see when you walk across the bridge, turn left onto the Oregon Road, and walk up the hill, turn around and look back.

Then, from the same spot, you look up the road. There is the pottery shop where I worked for six summers! It is in an old schoolhouse, and the building is over 100 years old. Just behind the pottery shop and out of view of this photo is the small community hall which served as the hub of the festival.

That morning we gathered for a panel of the three featured authors. From left: Marq de Villiers, Sheree Fitch, and Michael Crummey. Behind them is the stage with the bookstore. I love how colorful Sheree is!

Another shot of the writers who make a living from their work. (And of whom I am therefore in awe.) That's Frank MacDonald of Inverness, himself a published author, on the right, acting as panel moderator.

On the walk home to Kathy and Donald's, I walked slowly. Letting my brain relax, my legs and arms move. Checking out the beautiful weeds, plants going to seed in the ditches. Like this one.

Kathy's barn. The low mountains beyond. Some colour coming into the trees already. This view is etched into my heart like a wood carving, from six summers of walking by it. Looking out over it.

Kathy's barn as viewed through her gate. K is for Kerr. Pronounced like "car". Can you see the horse between the letter K and the barn? She's brown and small and fades into the background.

And then. Oh, and then. This week, I started to read the copy of Galore I had bought at the bookstore.

A little piece of the Rock for me - and it's the kind of book that sucks you in, holds you hostage. A true "tale". A yarn, spun around rocks and bays and ice floes and people. Tied to your finger. Marvellous, marvellous. A saga - and goodness knows I love a good saga! A Newfoundland outport called Paradise Deep, and its people, its plants and animals, its mystery and magic. This novel is seriously good stuff - you don't even really notice you're reading, your eyes are following words but you're in the story. Man, he is good.

(Not to mention, it has lovely typography.)

Going to the Writers' Festival - and reading the work of someone who is both a Canadian bestselling author and also a down-to-earth person I met and did a workshop with - show me that like yoga, like gardening, like anything you want to learn how to do better, what it comes down to is your daily practice. It's not necessarily a stroke of genius you have one day and then you suddenly spit out a bestselling book. It's putting yourself where your dreams are. Getting out of bed in the morning and showing up to events. Workshops. And practicing. Practicing. Over and over. Beginning again every day.

this is why I live here.

2010-10-07T12:47:00.001-03:00

Sometimes I'll be driving to work along the lake and I just go, "Oh RIGHT. That's why I'm here." Mists like this. Mornings like this.

I'm working on a post about the dinner party. (I've got the photos uploaded already, into a post. Now I just need a nice solid half hour to hour to sit down and write text. That could be tomorrow evening.)

I'm working on a post about the writers' festival this past weekend. (Photos on my computer from my camera, and ideas in my head.)

I'm thinking, always thinking, about ideas for posts. On: trusting. On: confidence. On: photography, and how I want to learn much more about it. On: time and how we make it, carve it out, for the things that are important, but sometimes you don't have a choice. Sometimes there just isn't any time left to carve out of. On: how much to listen when people tell you what they think of you.

***

It feels like things are sort of settling themselves. I have a bit more time now that I'm only working one job, but weirdly not a lot of extra time. I notice it mostly in my evenings, in having an extra couple of hours at home. But it seems like it's true that nature abhors vacuums, and stuff rushes in to fill those hours. Will I walk? Will I cook supper? (Instead of just eating sliced tomatoes, cheese, mayo and corn chips. Oh man, I could eat that for every meal.) Will I write these letters to people, will I do some creative writing, will I prepare a blog post? Will I talk to people on the phone? Watch a movie with my family? Just lie on my bed with the cat? Sort out my finances? Shave my legs?

You get the idea.

Yoga is back, it started this week. First class was Monday. Tonight is the second class. How is it possible to both dread something and love it? I kind of hate going, in a way, and how much we have to push ourselves while we're there. Every moment thinking "Oh lord I can't keep this pose up any longer!! AHH! This hurts! My thighs!" And yet when I'm done I feel so strong. So good. Just walking into the room on Monday night, unrolling the mat and sitting down, felt GREAT. Like, "OK, back to it. Bring it on."

I also feel like my confidence in myself has really dropped. I wonder if that's to do with being tired, and if it will come back with rest? But for example, even as I type this, I can feel these little gremlins, voices in my head - Not good enough, who do you think you ARE, typing out your stupid blog, who cares? Et cetera, over and over.

I also wonder if it has something to do with committing more time to my creative self, and the ego sort of rises up in defense, rising up in proportion to how much I am valuing myself more. It's like it's fighting back.

Part of me - the unconfident part - wants to end this post with, "Well, I don't know. Maybe that's how it is. Maybe not."

But in the spirit of wanting to become more confident - wanting to truly believe in myself again (if I ever did, truly?) - I will end by saying: no, that IS how it is. For now. My experience, my truth.

enough.

2010-09-29T19:14:00.001-03:00

When is enough, enough?

When do you decide, "OK, that's it. I have to change something"?

Last night I got home from work. I'd worked from 8 am to 5 pm at the marina, then from 6 pm to 8 pm at the library. I was tired. Beat out. I didn't feel quite IN my body, if that makes sense. I felt like my brain was both buzzing and revved, and at the same time aching for sleep.

I tried to do some relaxation. I had to make my lunch for the next day. I tried not to snap at my family. Knowing I had to get up the next day at 6 am and do it all over again was stressing me out. WHEN am I going to have time that's just mine, all mine? Do I really have to specifically take time off from work in order to have a break? That's foolish!

It was 10 pm. Suddenly it was 10 pm. The day had rushed by and now I was trying to relax enough to get some sleep. Actually, it was more like I knew I had to FIT IN sleep so I could be rested and wake up the next day and do more work. And the longer I stayed up thinking about it all, the less time I was actually sleeping. And the more tired I would be the next day - and in anticipation, my blood pressure rose a little more, a little more. AI AI AI!!

Out of curiosity I looked back in my dayplanner to find the day I resigned from the library job. August 24th. I counted forward, one - two - three - four - FIVE weeks ago. OK, that's enough.

I'm so done. Tomorrow, I'm letting them know. I don't care if I feel bad, that I'm leaving them in the lurch. I just can't do this anymore. Working two jobs is crazy, and I've definitely helped them out while they look for someone new. Five weeks. FIVE WEEKS. If the remaining staff has to take on extra shifts to cover it - oh my goodness, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but - THAT'S NOT MY PROBLEM.

I ended up getting to sleep. I woke up today, I made the necessary calls. I'm done, I'm done. Tonight is my last night at the library. It's coming two or three weeks earlier than I thought - so that's a bit odd. But, entirely OK.

As I shelve the books, as I chat with patrons using the computers, as I do the procedures I've been trained to do and can now do so quickly - I'm thinking, it's the last time, it's the last time.

Maybe I'll be sad later.

Right now, though, I'm just RELIEVED.

***

I took pictures of a dinner party I attended on Saturday, and that was my intended post for this week, so perhaps I'll get them done sometime this weekend. I think I've mentioned these feasts on here before - these are done by a local chef, there are six courses and it's all (mostly) local foods. And, each month is a different theme. You pay what you can (I usually pay $40, that seems to be the average). You can bring your own wine. You sit around a table with 14-18 other people, some of whom you know. It's a great time.

***

Isn't it odd, this practice of sharing one's personal life on the Internet? How do you decide what to put in, and what to leave out? What's the truth? What draws us to reading personal blogs, to learning all about people we may not ever meet?

I think about this, sometimes.

There are certain blogs that really inspire me, that are like reading a book, only every day or every few days you get a new chapter. Like a "serial" in a newspaper from long ago. These blogs - and the women who write them - have come to mean a lot to me. Their ideas and colors and creativity make me feel like my own day-to-day life means something too, like I can also be this creative and colorful and bold. I suppose that if this blog, and I, do that for at least a handful of people, then there's a reason for it existing.

Sometimes the thought of posting is stressful. ("What will I write about? But what if it's not perfect?") But I'm also still drawn to this form, to this blog. Very much so. This year, in December, will be the eighth year I've been writing this blog. Save for a month or so in 2007 when I was ill, I've posted pretty much every week, sometimes more often.

OK. This is where my steam is running out, for now.

That's ... enough.

the gift

2010-09-23T18:35:00.002-03:00

So there I was, being glum and feeling sorry for myself.

The Fall is coming on. I'm losing my library job. (Although, I know, I'm the one who's resigning. But - still.) I'm gaining weight (and believe me, I hate admitting that this matters to me, but it does). I'm burnt out from a long summer of work. For these reasons and perhaps others I'll never really know, the critical voices in my head are strong right now, always there, always harping.

Not good enough, never will be. Not smart enough, not cool enough, not thin enough. Never will be, doomed to be this. Ugh.

On and on and on they go. Constantly with me, and this past month stronger than ever.

And I'm tired, really just POOPED right out, and so I listen, and I believe them. It just seems to HAPPEN - before I know it I'm listening and believing that shite. Letting it pile up on my shoulders, and carrying it around.

(Don't worry - I'm doing the right things. I'm going to see my counsellor again. I'm taking walks and swimming and doing what I can to get good sleep. I'm talking back to those voices and telling them to EFF RIGHT OFF. I'm aware of my risks of slipping into sadness again, and I'm doing the right things.)

I think part of it is, I have to understand and recognize and LIVE WITH the fact that: this is what it means to be human. Not everything is roses and light and magic and happiness. The "right things" only do so much. We fight off our own inner critical voice, all the time. We all do. Every single person I deal with every day has their own set of complications, their own patterns of speaking and thinking, an individual history of loves and losses and sadnesses and disappointments. Patterns of negative thinking they slip into. Moments of brightness, moments of amazement. It's not just me - it's all of us. It's part of being alive.

So - like I say - there I was, feeling a bit down, sorry for myself.

My two supervisors at the marina came up to me and said they wanted to tell me something. "OK," I said. sensing something was up.

"Well, we've been dying to tell you this, but we had to get it all together."

Apparently - an American sailboat that stayed at the marina this summer - or, I should say, the people who were on board - wrote to tell us that they liked my service SO MUCH that they wanted to give me something. My supervisors had been emailing back and forth all week with them to figure out what was appropriate - and with my office manager's input, they decided to help me get an eco-friendly yoga mat. (I'd researched them this summer, but never got one - a combination of the cost and just being too busy.) So they're sending up a Visa gift card so I can choose which one I want - or get whatever it is I would like, to the value of $150. One hundred and fifty dollars?!?! What the?!?

The kicker of it is: I do remember them, but I don't remember doing anything out of the ordinary for them. I remember being nice to them, as I am to all the customers, and welcoming them to Baddeck. But I honestly don't know what motivated them to do this. It's kind of overwhelming and amazing.

I guess it means - I'm good at what I do. But it's hard to reconcile this - which is such an amazing recognition, seemingly out of the blue - with my sense of myself, of my service at work. I mean, I feel I do a pretty good job. But this - this is like - 100%. A plus! YOU ROCK!

Maybe the universe decided I needed a kick in the pants. Maybe what you put out there DOES come back around to you. Maybe, maybe.

le jardin

2010-09-15T17:23:00.012-03:00

The lime basil is going to seed and I can't be bothered to cut the flowers off. I didn't like the lime basil very much, I prefer regular flavored basil. Oh, well. The flowers are pretty.

Same goes for cilantro. I mean, I like the taste more than I like lime basil, but they too are going to seed, and I can't be bothered the cut the flowers off. It's just one more bloody thing that needs doing, and my current attitude towards most things right now (besides work) is "Oh, well!" As in - if it's not an emergency, oh well. We'll just have to live with it. (Or without it, as in some cases.)

SOMEONE was busy in the garden this summer! The garden plants themselves, busy growing growing growing, then my Mum, a close second, then the bees that swarmed and warranted this little mini hive stuck smack in the middle of one of the gardens. Then me, a distant fourth. Very distant.

This is a close-up of the inside of my Mum's brainchild, which is the lean-to for the Scarlet Runner beans. She designed and built it all by herself. It works marvellously. You just walk in underneath and pick the beans that are hanging down.

Now THESE I can take some credit for. I planted the seeds, then transferred the plants between pots and then into the ground. I tied them to stakes. Now I can also take the credit for eating most of them. MM HMM. Fresh tomatoes have got to be up there in my Top Five Favorite All-Time Things. Along with pajama pants and the show The Office and love.

Hey sweet pea! These are- well, you guessed it - sweet peas. Pretty little things and quite a scent to match. They come in all these great colors. Just a delight.

***

Sometimes I come to the weekly blog post with nothing more than a series of random thoughts. I've got some ideas for topics that I'd like to write about, but lately it seems I don't have the time. Anyway, I always wonder to myself, "Hmm, how am I going to tie all of this together? How will I make it more than just some self-indulgent ramblings?" (Whether I actually succeed in that, reader, is up to you.)

For example...

(1) I'm not overly loving my new laptop. My old one, one that I had taken good care of for two years, was sleek and black and, when moved to any position, the lid would stay there. Then suddenly Old Laptop wouldn't start and was doing odd things when it did turn on. So I brought it to a friend who has a computer business - the only game in town, actually - and after a bit of messing around with it, he said he couldn't get the old one to work, so he was going to replace it and get me a new one. We'd cut a deal since my old one is no longer on warranty. So for $150 I got this new laptop. It's grey and somewhat clunkier than my old one and this may seem like a silly detail but when I move the lid/screen up or down, there is "play" in it. It jiggles. Also the mouse is kinda sucky. Apparently I can change the sensitivity of it, and I did try, but it didn't really seem to change. Maybe I'll try again? But sometimes even the thought of doing THAT is too much. Ai! Anyway, I'll live. But the new laptop doesn't have Microsoft Office, which my old one had for free, so I have to get used to new programs.

(I fully realize, as I'm complaining about this, that these are NOT dramas. Really, they're not. I know that. But since my computer is a tool that I use to create stuff, well, in that sense it DOES matter. It matters to my creative process. It matters to me.)

(2) My favorite blogs both inspire and depress me - because I want to be able to do the cool stuff they do, and I don't know how and right now at least, don't have the time to LEARN how. Learn things like Photoshop and other graphic design tools.

(Who are my favorite blogs? Well, daily I read Kal Barteski and Elise Blaha, both in the list on the right, and I've also been reading my cousin Maile's blog Daily Relish, and being jealous of her amazing photographic skills. As well as incredibly inspired by them. You get my drift. And lately, because of Maile's link, Tara Whitney is making it into my quick daily stops. She's kind of AWESOME. There will likely be an upcoming post on here, by me, about a subject that Tara has also blogged about and which I've been rolling around in my brain like a thought marble: TRUTH. And telling it, especially on blogs. More soon, hopefully.)

(3) Adventures in subtle and not-so-subtle sexism and racism: Sometimes, some of the clients at the marina make me go "Wha..?!?" As in, "Do we live in the same WORLD?" I just smile and nod - I'm not really sure what else to do without alienating them - but still. One guy, the other day, casually told me a story about the "nippers" - yes, with a P - in Toronto. I think he meant Mexican people. I wasn't about to ask him to clarify. And today a client - very old, admittedly, but still - told another guy who was standing there that I have a really hot arse. He said I was a "bummer's delight". I blushed and scolded him ("I'm standing RIGHT HERE"), then later on told Flossie and laughed til I thought I might cry. "Bummer's delight?" Who SAYS that? Eighty-year-old men, apparently. And now I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. It's the kind of thing I sort of just put up with. Oh my goodness.

OK, I'm spent. It's time to get back to Work2, anyway. (Library is Work2. Marina is Work1. That gives it all a Kal-Barteski-esque flair and makes me feel less like a slave.)

(I'm counting down the days to when the library is over, knowing full well I'll also be sad about it. But still - I'm so ready to have more TIME OFF. Holy balls. Working all the hours in the day is OVER-RATED.)

Enjoy yourselves and the little things - and leave a comment if that strikes your fancy. I do SO appreciate you.

a change is gonna come

2010-09-08T14:21:00.021-03:00

At least, according to this barometer.

Sometimes I look around myself at the marina and can't quite believe that this is my life now. Not that it's crazy different or anything. Well, actually, it kind of is. I'm well-ensconced now, I'm so used to the terms and to what we talk about each day that it takes eating two and a half big macaroons full of sugar to put me on a sugar high and sort of see things differently. (Do you know what I mean or am I talking crazy-talk?)

What I mean is, I did eat two big macaroons and felt a sugar buzz. And it wasn't entirely dissimilar to that sense of unreality that you get when you've been drinking. Sort of like - what is this place and how did I get here? Why am I talking about P-O numbers and what discount the marina gets at which dealers and this invoice and that shipment? All like it's normal?

I guess because - it IS normal now. That's what is so odd - how something that at first was so new has switched to being normal.

This is the picture post I promised. It's the first of a few that will come in the next few weeks because God help me, even if that camera fails now, I've got a number of pictures all saved up in the computer. Shots of the gardens at home, shots of the NEW and AWESOME Baddeck Community Market (and I'm really full right now from eating some yellow tomatoes and sticky buns that I bought there just today). And other random shots of things that are going on right now. I so missed being able to do that, to document day-to-day life.

And I'm hoping, fingers crossed, that the trick to my camera is just simply not putting dead or dying batteries in it. Then it doesn't tend to go crazy and act up. Amazing.

These cards were made by a lady in town. I don't know if you'll remember this or not, but a few months back I talked about a gal named Simone who does amazing baking. She had brought some buns to us at the library and I was going on about how the buns she had made smell like love itself.

Anyway, Simone is multi-talented and makes cards out of scraps of paper she collects. This shot above us of two of her cards, that we're selling at the marina.

We are a Mercury service dealer, which means we fix Mercury engines. We also carry a lot of Mercury stock, including lubricants - oils, et cetera. There is a big display of them near my desk and I look at them a lot. This is - big surprise! - a bottle of gear lube.

We carry Harken sailing gear- like these blocks. I really don't know much about them, except that they help in hauling the lines on a sailboat. Beyond that - like what kind is best for what situation - I usually refer to Stu.

This is an oil filter. It is made by Racor. Again, beyond that - I don't know much. I know there are different sizes and that they're measured by microns, like a 2-micron filter or a 10-micron filter. I know how to order them. I know roughly how much they cost. I know they look kinda pretty, at least when they're clean and new.

These are ropes. Also known as lines or sheets. This is part of our rope stock. The clip attached to the rope has information about that item. That's my handwriting!

These are either cotter pins or clevis pins. I CAN NEVER REMEMBER. (They're clevis pins, I checked.)

Stainless-steel screws. According to its tag it is a 1 and 1/2 inch long, #8 flathead. #8 refers to its diameter. It will also cost you 18 cents to buy one. Plus tax.

This is what I see all day, every day. The MMS screen. It is our Point of Sale program, through which we control our inventory both here and in Dundee, our sales, our work orders, our clients and our accounts. And it also happens to LOOK like it belongs to 1995. What the eff, MMS.

Barometer-head! Also known as me.

The island I live on, divided up into charts.

Being as I love typography, of course I couldn't resist this beautiful calendar's type. That lower-case g just kills me. And the numerals! Ooh!

For the sharp-eyed - see if you can spot this calender in the picture above of me at the desk.

This photo is for Haya, devoted reader and (I think) employee for Transport Canada. These are the guides to boating safety that I give out to people.

This is my cat. One of three. This is the one who sleeps on my bed and runs down the stairs to my bedroom any time I go there myself and she's around. I've got her trained! The book is one that Grandmaman sent (another shout-out to a reader!) last month with the family that visited. It is called "The Kingdom of the Cat". My cat is allowing it to co-exist with her in HER kingdom.

This is a Monkey's Fist. I made it! We're featuring knots in the newsletters and I was testing the one for the Fall newsletter. It kind of looks like a volleyball.

Again with my kitty. This is one of two matching chairs that I bought at auction. I quickly realized I should abandon any more furniture purchases until (ahem) I have a house to put it in. Or at least an apartment. Mum's not too pleased with me bringin extra furniture home when we're already trying to scale down our existing possessions.

Those drums are my brothers' hand drums.

So that's it for now! I'm writing in my little break between the marina and the library. But - even though it will be another month at least and perhaps two before I'm actually done at the library - just knowing that it's on its way out means I don't mind so much the long days.

Oh and one more thing: I signed up for the Cabot Trail Writers' Festival, for some workshops! It will be the first time taking part in this event for me, as well as the first time I've done a workshop with a teacher, on writing. (As far as my memory serves, anyway. That actually means - it's entirely possibly it HAS happened before.) Anyway, it looks pretty cool - Michael Crummery, Marq de Villiers and Sheree Fitch are all doing workshops.

I'm doing my best to remain rested and inspired, amidst all the work and craziness. I realized the other day that - I'm pretty hard on myself, in general. It's amazing how lessons cycle back around, again and again, isn't it? I thought I'd learned the one about hearing the critical voices in your own head, and sending them lovingly on their way. Combatting those voices you have that are constantly telling you you're not good enough, et cetera. So how come it feels like I'm learning it for the first time, all over again? Complete with what feel like mini-breakdowns, crying and feeling upset. It doesn't help that I'm coming down off a busy summer, and my body takes time off and decides it's not going to be able to do much of anything.

That's all part of being human, I guess. One day at a time. Rest and take care of yourself, face the fears, ride through it.

promises

2010-09-02T08:18:00.002-03:00

My camera came back to me, working! Apparently it just started working again. So the camera shop mailed it back to me. I've been taking lots of photos, which I intend to share here, once I get a chance. I meant to do some blog-writing last night after work but it's been in the 30-degree area of heat around here - autumn, where are you autumn?!? - so after work all I want to do is jump in the lake. Literally.

The situation will probably be the same tonight. It's 8 am and already it's 25 degrees. Friggin' scorcher. I always feel pretty useless on hot days like this.

Pictures - soon! I'm excited.

ah yes. autumn.

2010-08-25T09:37:00.006-03:00

I'm SO ready for it. It's time.

The nights are cooling down. The tourists are ebbing. People talk of "back to school." (I kind of want to go school-supply shopping, even though I'm not going back to school. I just love - the aisles, the paper, the pens, the possibilities.)

I'm ready for this season more - it feels like - than ever before in my life. I feel like I'm flinging myself into it like you run into the water after lying on the beach and getting all hot. I'm ready for a quieting. Or maybe not a quieting but a CHANGING. Yes, that's it. Less hot + sticky chaos, more ordered, cooled-down chaos.

Less theoretically, more practically, this is what I've been doing in the spirit of Fall + time to myself + less chaos:

I've resigned from one of my two jobs. The library one, which was only a handful of hours per week. Yes, I loved working in a library. Yes, it felt like a dream come true. What was not a dream come true was feeling like I was working my butt off, my focus was split between two jobs, AND I wasn't even doing the job there as well as I wanted to be. They need someone who can make it their focus. (I'm not totally gone from the library yet - I'm staying on while they find my replacement. So, in another month or two I'll actually be done.)
I'm planning a trip. A road trip to Newfoundland, where I've had two great road trips already in my life. This time I'm going to St John's, where a dear friend lives. I haven't seen her in far too long. I've never been to that city. My car needs an inaugural road trip that's actually off Cape Breton. It seems like a no-brainer.
Admitting my limits and scheduling shorter work days. (Meaning, normal-person, eight or nine hour work days.) For a little while there I thought I was Superwoman, and I had all kinds of 12-hour days on my schedule. I thought, "Heck yeah, look how tough I am, I can take it." Then I started feeling angry all the time. And that made me realize how tired I was. It was hard to say NO to myself, because I'm the one who makes up the schedule at the marina, and to admit it to my superiors. Of course, they said, "OF COURSE you can't do all those twelve-hour days, no-one can! Of course it's going to drive you nutty!"
I cleaned my room and made space for my art supplies. So now if I want to get something for making art, it's easily at hand, instead of having to dig through a crammed cardboard box that was all dusty. THIS FEELS REALLY GOOD. The day I finally could stay home and play my music and move my bedroom around in a way that made sense, that day was damn sweet.

It seems - it's about putting your time and energy where your mouth is. And it's about - going through the cycles. It's necessary to come to a burn-out space, so you can learn from it and make your way back from it.

Things aren't perfect, by any means - there are still many things I feel all frustrated and crammed up about, because I don't have the time or the money or both. Like gardening my butt off, like I would like to. Preserving foods for the Fall. Travelling ALL the trips I want to take and going to see ALL the long-lost far-flung people I'd like to see. (Grandmaman and Grandpapa and Grandpa, I'm thinking about you. Maile, you too. Ginger and Billy. My Halifax girls. The folks on the West Coast.)

And I still feel somewhat brain-dead and burnt out from the summer. Like a stunned bunny. Tired and forgetful and needing to be easy on myself.

BUT: Change it up. The seasons are doing it, why not you?

oh. my. goodness.

2010-08-19T13:09:00.003-03:00

I really, really haven't forgotten you! The blog, I mean. And all my blog-reading peeps.

A number of things happened - I got sick with a stomach bug, my family from Quebec arrived, work has stayed BUSY with no sign of letting up. My computer died. Home is only dial-up and a computer so slow I kind of want to shoot myself when I use it.

There just hasn't been time!

Ahrgh!!! (Frustration.)

So this is to say that - as soon as there is time - there will be a blog post. Believe me - I really want to write one!

And thanks for your patience. You rock.

my heart is my compass

2010-08-05T19:12:00.004-03:00

I had a dream a few weeks ago - which could also have been two days ago, the way time is going around here - that I looked at myself in the mirror and I was naked. Between my breasts, over my heart, was a tattoo of a compass.

(I also had long hair in the dream, which happens often. I'll dream that I still have my long, long hair, which I don't at all right now - it's quite short. Then I'm awake and I wish I could just press a button and have my long hair back! But alas - it takes a good two years to really get it long, and involves all those awkward in-between stages. Sigh.)

Anyway. The idea of my heart being my compass has been like a talisman for me lately. It's really hard to learn how to trust yourself - really trust yourself, know that you've got your own back. That you'll catch yourself if you fall. And to trust that your own heart, and all your own feelings and emotions, is the compass, is the only thing you really need as you're sailing around, living, being.

This photo is of a compass from the 30's. It was on a boat that visited Baddeck last month, a boat called the Daegmar Aaen, from Germany. (Originally from another Scandinavian country which I forget. Finland, perhaps? Sweden?) I was able to go aboard and visit with the sailors, who had been to the marina to use our showers and laundry room. The vessel is all made of wood, it was really something else. Beautiful, solid. They make trips to the Arctic for science, and they use this cool old compass to navigate. (As well as all kinds of new-fangled devices.)

This week has been full on NUTS. It's Regatta Week in Baddeck, and we decided to host a radio remote broadcast during it. Meaning, 94.9 The Cape came up from Sydney and from 10 am to 2 pm yesterday broadcast from our marina! I was on air and everything, doing little chats with the DJ. "Yes, Don, we've got lots of specials on for Regatta Week..." That sort of thing. It was actually really fun - I like being on air, and I think I've got a good voice for it. But it was also nerve-wracking, as at the same time the store was full of people and I had to keep my eye on that.

And so I realized last night that I've reached my limit - of things on my plate - and recognizing this is always hard. It always involves getting FRUSTRATED and sad and angry, and crying a bit. (Once I get home - so far I haven't cried at work, at least not in front of people.) It's a hard emotional "storm" to go through, but then once you do, and you go out the other side, you've learned a little more how to use that compass. So I suppose - it's worth it.

My heart is my compass. I shall not want?

4 four-letter words

2010-07-28T17:23:00.012-03:00

"Baddeck Marine, good morning?" "Baddeck Marine, hello, how can I help you?" "Baddeck Marine, hi!"

This is the front desk, behind which you can usually find me. (Photos taken with my colleague's camera. My own camera is still broken. Which makes sense considering I haven't had any time to take it to the camera store an hour's drive away. Yeesh!)

This is one of the views from our docks. I come out here to get a breath of fresh air and this view. The black-hulled boat mid-background is the Amoeba on her dock - John Bryson and his crew take people out on tours on this beautiful vessel. Quite a treat!

We're open for business!

AND check this out: the webcam is up and running!

http://dbmarina.com/cam.htm

You can see in live action the dock out front and Kidston Island behind it. Pretty sweet! Especially with Regatta Week coming up next week - you can even see the Sail Past through this webcam! Sunday, August 1, in the afternoon.

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4 four-letter words: I came up with this idea over my porridge this morning. It's a quick and dirty way to fill you in on how I am this week. The words are: rock, wish, love, read. (They could be any four-letter words. There are lots of candidates. But these are the ones I've quickly chosen tonight.)

I rock: the front desk. The phone. The computer and ordering parts (most of the time). My socks off when I'm driving home or to the beach - Fat Freddy's Drop, all summer long. (No, seriously - I'm too lazy to change the tape in the tape deck, and it just somehow seems to fit pretty much every mood I have. It's chilled out, it's amped up, it's happy, it's sad, it's soulful. Mmm hmm.)
I wish: I had more sleep. I had more time off. Summer was longer. I could see some of my dear girlfriends who don't live here. I wish that the world wasn't such a frigging crazy place sometimes. I wish that I could eat all the ice cream I wanted and not gain any weight, because I really, really, REALLY love ice cream (and I've been eating a lot of it. I don't actually think I've gained any weight, though, not yet anyway.) I wish that I didn't care whether I gained weight or not (I'm working on that). I wish I had my own little house on a big plot of land in the country, but I suppose that will come someday. I wish I had all the money I wanted - although I probably have all the money that I need.
I love: this place, oh my goodness do I ever. Even with the tourists stopping in the middle of the road to point at things and hold up traffic, it's a pretty fabulous place. The lake, the ocean, the sky full of marvellous clouds, the woods and rivers, the old farms. I'm head over heels.
I read: Hamlet - which I've never read and figured it was high-time I did. (Actually, I'm still in the middle of it. Consider the word "read" as a present-tense word.) I also read part numbers, dozens upon dozens of them. 3576474F6, 331-22, 934D-223. And many more like them. Each part has a number, for whatever company makes it. Then it has a number within our system. Every engine has a serial number, a number of horsepower, a model number. I read these off over the phone to people in Parts Departments across the country for Mercury, Volvo, Stright-McKay, and others. I look at the part numbers on orders and invoices and match them to part numbers on the actual parts.

What do you rock, wish, love, read?

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