Future fiction and non-fiction writers (spot the difference):

We were walking through the Botanical Gardens the other night after the Magic Lanterns and came across a series of fountains and lily ponds. Both kids were entranced and Naomi was thrilled when she discovered that they changed colours.
N: Look! The water changes colours!
Me: Wow! That's amazing!
N: It's magic!
Ben: I think that it's lights making it change colours (heads off to investigate as water turns purple).
N: I think the water is changing into grape juice (water turns red) and blood!

the joys of a head cold

One of the only fun things about having a head cold is losing my sense of taste. Suddenly, that no-sugar diet is doable and last night I was amusing myself by downing handfuls of wasabi peas....... what strange and spicy things will I eat today?

Reasons why I am awesome

Sorry, but I feel like blowing my own horn today.....

• I have two beautiful kick-ass kids that I constructed, nurture, and inspire.
• I take good pictures.
• I write good words.
• My heart is almost always in the right place and I love utterly and big.
• My hair.
• I love discovering the unknown.
• I get people excited about stuff, lots of stuff. Sometimes stuff I didn't think I had any interest in. Getting excited is fun.
• I talk to everyone, or try to anyway. I meet some pretty awesome people this way.
• I bake really well.
• I run half-marathons for charity.
• Just one month ago, a famous photographer told me he had to take my picture. And he did.
• Did I mention my hair?

Why I am happy this morning

• Some very nice kid cuddles
• Waking up to my kids giggling and wearing my bras over their pyjamas
• My daughter, closing the fridge door after helping herself to a slice of pizza, saying, "yum pizza for breakfast". Frat boy.
• The sunshine and the cool breeze on my balcony, drinking coffee and listening to the faint sounds of a Marmaduke movie that I do not have to watch
• Knowing that today both my parents are home
• My son joining me briefly on the balcony to see what I'm doing, hug me, and say, "I love you Mom".

Nine

Oh Ben, you are nine, where does the time go? I have blinked and another year has zoomed by and you are bigger and still so very beautiful.
You continue to spread love and joy where ever you go, touching people and making the world kinder and sunnier. Your ability to notice and understand the feelings of others borders on telepathy and is a rare gift, rarer still considering who you are. You always have a kind encouraging word for friends, and you would share anything with your sister to make her happy, and you still walk up to my bed every morning and ask "for a cuddle please momma". Your selflessness continues to inspire me and proves to me that a gentle heart can have a much greater impact than cautious one.
Grade three was so much better than two: an enthusiastic teacher and two lovely helpers who appreciated your gifts all gave you room to be yourself and encouraged you to believe in yourself and now you are a confident and enthusiastic reader and a creative writer. You made up your own poem on a walk home one evening and everytime I look at it framed on my wall I burst with pride. You can converse about Spiderman, story plots, and The Magic Flute. In addition to being a scientist and inventor, you have recently added Lego master builder to your c.v., and I believe you are on the right track about that, the bricks dance between your fingers and become worlds that I marvel at.
In addition to your academic and creative achievements, you also managed to complete a 10k run for charity and have started karate which you are patiently teaching your sister at home.
With every accomplishment you are becoming more mature, more aware, and more able to perceive and challenge things in your life that you feel are unfair or wrong. You can stand up for yourself and are a loyal friend and these traits will protect you when you need it most.
You are everything you should be and so much more, your light and sweetness are unique in this world.
I love you more than ever,
Momma

Process

I'm trying to narrow down the photos to a shortlist, and suddenly realise that I'm bored with almost everything I've done. I want dynamic, I want life and movement and faces, and details, I want images that will draw me in. I also have a new idea every hour for a theme or a style I want to do. I think that this will require more walking about with my camera at very early hours of the morning. The fact that I look forward to this is a step in the right direction I think :-)

status

Beautiful morning sun, a soft breeze coming in my window and a light in my heart. I am slowly brushing away the last, stubborn flakes of the previous version of me, the unhappy version mired in desperation, paralyzed for reasons I acknowledge but no longer understand. I believe that we are constantly reinventing, or at least we should be, always moving forward, never accepting our last work as our best work, and never taking anything in our lives for granted.
I am bringing along the things from my past that I love, even if they are not good for me. I am doing instead of talking, hopefully. It will be a nice change.
I am also hoping that my words return soon, but they have been elsewhere, contemplating a life without me, or at least a life where we are just good friends instead of intimate and entwined. I am trying to be patient, and I have other distractions, but it's hard.
While I wait, there is coffee, and the sun reflecting on the green leaves, and a smile on my face. It's a morning that makes you feel like anything is possible.

I'm not really sorry

Apologies to anyone who still stops by, I have been out and about, living, travelling, reading, brooding, thinking, sitting very still, dreaming, learning....

stasis

I woke up with Bruce Springstein's "I'm on Fire" playing in my head. Of course in my head it's an acoustic version - just Bruce and a guitar. I don't mind the train-track rhythm of the produced song, but I've always thought that a total lack of adornment would make it perfect - the feel of a man sitting with a guitar pouring something out from his gut. That's how the song plays for me, with his rich, honest voice making you feel every syllable of desire.
So maybe this song will set the tone for the day, maybe I will have my head in the clouds thinking about what and who sets me on fire. Lately there has been so much time to think, time to create, time to waste, time to search; I feel lost. It's as if someone forgot to give instructions, directions, and I'm wandering around in a weird open space picking up random objects, examining them and putting them down and trying to figure out what I'm doing here. Ideas arrive at my door and I spend the day pondering them and adding to them and then pulling them apart and putting them away.

I am no longer able to identify with who I was two months ago, and I have no idea who I am now. Sometimes I feel so free and joyous and excited about the prospect of endless possibilties and sometimes I am so scared that I am paralyzed.

The practical part of me says take anything, but my heart is telling me to do what makes me truly happy. My heart is compelling, but it doesn't have a firm grasp on reality, and when it is distracted with other things my practical side spends its time hinting that I'm a useless moron, tapping its fingers on the table and telling me to get on with it. I know that I cannot ignore it for much longer.
Something is going to have to happen soon. What will it be?

it goes on...

Back to the learnin'

My son has returned to school and my daughter had her very first day yesterday. One drop off, one pickup, new classes, new friends, new teachers. I'm thinking some of that newness and excitement and adventure is rubbing off on me as well. Wish me luck!

hurricanes

I'm positively frozen with cold and damp, shivery and hunched inside a warm sweater, occasionally warming my hands on a cup of tea. The trailings of Irene hit today and the high winds and torrential rain reminded everyone of the approaching change of season. I woke up with the sweetest little monster in my bed, mouth open, snoring softly and leaving a faint trail of drool. She spent huge portions of the day being absolutely horrible, so I am trying to hold on to that image of her before she woke up when the day seemed endlessly joyous as she melted my heart with the way her cheek smooshed the pillow and made her upper lip into a perfect little bow.
We couldn't get out to the park, so we spent the morning watching a dvd, doing crafts, "cleaning" rooms, playing games and every time there was a moment of boredom, the girl was up in her brother's grill, teasing him, taking a toy, wrecking a carefully constructed lego creation, and just being a pain in the rear. She was sent to sit on her bed multiple times - I heard Ben screech my name so many times that after a while it lost all meaning. In the afternoon we headed out into the deluge to take Nomi to an open house for Irish dancing. Out we went, but not before the girl and I had a knock-down-drag-out about her choice of footwear that resulted in a time-out and us very nearly not going at all. But finally we left, sniffling and ill-tempered, and by the time we got out to the hall she had fallen asleep, presumably from the weather and emotional exhaustion. I could have joined her.
We went inside and got organized and some of the dancers were there and gave an exhibition and then the newbies got to go up and Bernadette taught them some basic reel steps and we watched all the kids stumbling and jumping and she didn't do bad at all. In the end she decided that she'd like to try it, so she's signed up until the end of the year. It means I have to leave work a bit early every Monday, but with any luck she'll like it and have an outlet for all that energy.
Then it was supper, baths, and more picking on the brother. Just before bed, I'd had it and when she failed to heed the final warning of punishment if she didn't stop, I told her that I would not be reading her a bedtime story. Suddenly there was an explosion of "I'm so sorry"s and "I won't do it again"s, complete with wailing and pitiful floor flopping. Ben stood there watching, the object of the teasing and abuse for most of the day. Then he said that he would read her a story, and found the only book he enjoys reading aloud, and took her into his room and read to her. Best. Big. Brother. Ever.
I sat in the living room listening to every word he read and crying at the unbelievably sweet gentle spirit that is my son. There is so much in him that I admire, he is extraordinary. His ability to love and forgive and make the world happier makes me try to be a better person every day.

I want a day like that

I asked Ben what he did today at camp:

"We watched a movie, played running around and screaming, I ate my lunch, went swimming, and played zombie tag."

Stupid grown up job stuff......

Things in the night

My daughter crawled into bed with me last night in the wee hours. Coincidentally, I was awake because the neighbour was up on a ladder a few feet away from my bedroom window taping plastic over the empty hole where the bathroom window used to be. He took the window out to replace it during the day and didn't finish. The previous tape job he'd concocted had given out in the rain, and he was redoing it, waking me up with that annoying tape noise over and over, without any rhythm and with no idea of when he'd be done. Eventually I think he ran out of tape and stopped just before I started throwing things at his head.
So, just as he was done, Naomi appeared in my doorway and stumbled to the other side of the bed and crawled in. I was trying to convince her to go back to sleep in her bed, I end up with a foot in my ear more mornings than not, when her little sleepy sad voice whispered in the dark, "But I woke up and it felt lonely". Melt. This is how she suckers me in.
She made herself comfy and snuggled in and fell right back to sleep. Lucky. I was awake, brain whirring, analysing the sleeplessness and out of whack feelings.
This summer has been about emptiness for me. People in my life have been empty, which I've had to accept and move past. I've also found myself feeling an emptiness for some people who deserve love. Promises have been empty, my job has felt empty of anything meaningful (which is more a reflection on me than the actual job), my bank account seems emptier. Not having my cat around makes the house seem so much more empty when the kids aren't here, it's not as if she created havoc running around the house, but I miss her wandering in and out of rooms, sitting with me, waking me up in the morning with a purring furry face against mine as she tried to smell the inside of my nose. Suddenly the things I took for granted are gone and there's a selfish fear that I didn't appreciate them enough while they were present. But I cannot long for things from the past, they no longer exist.
It sounds like I've had a pretty stark summer, but I haven't. I've had a lot of fun with my children and my friends, we've been to the beach, exploring the city, discovering new restaurants, reading, meeting people, and laughing. My life is not tragic and I have people who love me, but emptiness has motivated me to perhaps make some choices that I should have avoided.
There are two ways to handle the emptiness. You can try to fill it with activities and things until you are distracted, which is effective but only fills it temporarily, requiring a constant parade of activities and things. Or you can step back and look at the emptiness for a while until you realise how wonderful it can be. In the design of just about anything, the best thing you can do sometimes is allow just a little more white space; it cleans and opens up a room, a page, a mind. And the most beautiful thing about emptiness is its endless potential for ways to fill it. This is what I'm going to try to focus on for the next little while and see where it takes me.

If I had a time machine, I'd have a lot to do back then

I am too embarrassed to explain the major fuck-uppery mess I made the night before last. Think about something you did that still makes you cringe and shudder when even the tiniest inkling of the memory appears in the smallest, darkest corner of your mind - and then fill an oil tanker with that episode until it sinks. That would be my night.
The results of my epic debacle have left me questioning my perceptions, my motives, and my feelings. Someone who I thought was self-centred and really didn't give a goddamn was giving me coffee and making me laugh about the foolishness of the night before (which importantly included saying some pretty mean things that have apparently been forgiven and forgotten). Someone who I thought cared and would never hurt me walked away without even looking at me or saying a word.
Just when I think that I have it all figured out, I realise that I don't know anything, about life, about myself, or about the people I care about, or for that matter even who the people I care about really are.

I really hope so....

It's the people who are still around despite everything that you do who really matter.

A smile at the end of the day

When you are down, call a friend. They make everything better :-)

Thbbbttttt

Sometimes, you just get so tired of hearing the word "no", that you stop trying.

I would walk around with this on a big sign if I could

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”
Howard Thurman

The mouse, part one

So there was this mouse.
This past winter I was cleaning stuff off the pantry floor, picked up a discarded cloth grocery bag, and discovered a few cups of catfood inside. I was confused for a moment until I noticed little mouse droppings in a corner. Great. And yes, I'm the worst housekeeper ever. Mr Mouse had been stashing that away for a while I guessed. So I threw out the bag and cleaned up the pantry and washed the floor and the next day found myself staring at the display for vermin traps at the hardware store. The classic wooden Victory ones were there, but so were a variety of humane traps. Live and let live is my motto, and I didn't want the mouse dead, just out of my house, so I bought a couple of non-killing traps and went home. It took a week to talk myself into baiting them and putting them out. I'd like to make one thing clear at this point-I'm not afraid of mice. I do not jump on chairs or scream, they do not bother me in the slightest when they are alive and free and running around places that are not my house. I always wanted gerbils or hamsters (my parents wouldn't let me have them) and I even raised lab rats. My problem is dealing with dead mice or captured, panicked mice. I had visions of the mouse crawling into the trap and getting caught and then squeaking and freaking me out in the middle of the night. What if the kids were here? And what would I do with it? I'd have to drive it somewhere (I was thinking the nicer area of town with the big houses) otherwise it would just get back into my house. I'd have to transfer it to something with air holes, maybe a cage? I didn't have one. Would it chew through a cardboard box? Maybe the kids would like to see it, would they get attached? Blabbyblahblah my brain inventing all these scenarios that had me suddenly incapable of handling a very small rodent. Dumb brain. I overcame, set out the traps, and waited, and waited. And moved the traps, and changed the bait, and waited some more, and tried a few more traps of different types, and waited. Nothing. Yet all the while I was finding new stashes of catfood hidden here and there and droppings. I cleaned and cleaned and moved things out of areas I knew that mouse was hanging around to discourage it when there was nothing to hide behind and tried to close its access points into the house. You may ask where my cat was for all of this, well, she was mostly sleeping on my bed and the living room sofa. She's at least 300 in human years of something, so while she was a fantastic mouser in her prime, those days are over. I think that she has adopted the "I don't see you, you don't see me" policy.
This went on all winter. I finally mentioned it to my landlady and she was shocked and claimed to not have any mice, despite living downstairs. I'm fairly certain that my mouse did not parachute into my house, but nevermind. She came up that afternoon and dropped off a couple of the classic Victory traps. Sigh, she was right. Mr Mouse had to go. I nearly took my finger off setting the traps and placed them in two places where I know he was hanging out, and went about my evening. At 11:30pm I heard one snap. I froze, paralyzed by the inevitable. I texted a friend in a panic and he said to leave it until morning and try to forget it. In the morning I slowly opened the cupboard door and looked inside to see an empty trap, the cheese gone. Damn. I was a bit relieved, but then pissed off - now I'd have to do this again! I set it again, this time with a smaller piece of cheese, and closed the cupboard. In the morning I opened that cupboard to grab a bottle of cleaner because the cat barfed on the floor, and saw trap the had been successful. I actually only saw the tail in the quick glance before I closed the cupboard. Yay and crap. What was I going to do now? I texted my friend again, now Monday morning. The kids were eating breakfast in the dining room, and I figured it would be best not to mention it. Naomi would have stared and poked and Ben might have gotten upset and insisted on a burial. My friend came over and disposed of the corpse seeing as how I couldn't even look at it. It was quick and with minimal clever remarks. I felt like a wimp.
I'm just not cut out for premeditated murder I suppose. Perhaps it gets easier after your first kill?