Some days are made for beautiful things

Moments in a day

I woke up this morning when Ben walked into my room and asked for a cuddle. His sister was already sleeping on "her" side of my bed. He climbed in under the covers and snuggled up and we talked about dreams and snow and Iron Man and he gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me he loved me.
Later in the morning I was sitting on the bed with my laptop and Naomi wandered in with a book to read. Sometimes when I read she comes in and reads too, except that she doesn't read very much yet, so she spends a lot of time asking me what the words are. Today we read Princesses are not Quitters, and we spent some time picking out all the funny parts of the illustrations.
Both kids cleaned their rooms, with varying success.
We went outside and the kids played in the snow while I shoveled, and we saw our neighbour and her dog. Ben saw a pile of snow from a shovel and told us that it looked like a treasure chest (it really did). I told the neighbour about N telling me earlier in the week that "patience was a bird shoe". It cracked her up.
I actually managed to fold and put away all the laundry before starting more laundry.
After supper we all sat on the sofa together and watched a movie and we all agreed that mice with accents are very funny.

In Absentia

 

Went to a play a few nights ago called In Absentia. It's set in winter in a lakeside cottage owned by Colette and her husband Tom. A young man shows up and Colette lets him in and he brings the story along. You find out that Tom has been abducted while working in South America and ransom negotiations abruptly stopped over a year ago and Colette's waiting, hoping, frozen, lost.

She talks to Tom every day and voices the guilt of her failings as a partner and a human being and examines their relationship while her pragmatic sister who is staying with her chimes in with advice about what she should be thinking and feeling. There is a lot going on and and so many of the ideas are wonderful and true and provoking, although I found much of them too explained thoughout the dialog.

Colette couldn't wait for her husband to leave on his final trip and was planning on trying to have an affair with their neighbour, Bill. That changed when Tom was kidnapped. Her feelings are suddenly gone for Bill, and Colette wonders if she only truly loved Tom after he was no longer there.

I know, I know, absence, fonder hearts, blah blah, but is it possible that we really only love people in moments of their absence? When they are with you they are there and you enjoy them, or not as the case may be, and don't realise the space they fill in your heart until that space is empty? And when they return they light up everything as that familiarity and warmth fills in that space again? Do we only need those feelings when we are alone, in moments of uncertainty and doubt, or do we relish that feeling of loving from afar and delight at the anticipation of wanting? Are there simply people who take these things for granted and others who are in love with the idea of longing? And when you realise that the person may never come back, will never come back, the lengths that you will go to to keep that space filled to the point where you pretend that person is still there.

I try to take in moments and to enjoy them as they happen and not take them for granted, sweet moments with my kids, the smile of a friend, the softest, brief kiss on the back of my neck that means everything. But often I only really stop and think about the ones I love when I am alone, and replay those memories and remember how they made me feel. But if love is mostly constructed within your memories, you can alter the perceptions any way that you like. So why does it suddenly appear and disappear and why is it impossible to let go of?

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....

Merry Christmas to all

For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.

- F. Scott Fitzgerald (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)

Thought for someone

You can hide your heart forever, but that doesn't mean that I will ever stop loving it.

I heart my city

(photo by J.F. Houpert)

 Driving back into Montreal, 40 kilometres out and I catch my first glimpse of the city, lights off in the distance and the beacon beaming out into the night sky, lighting up the clouds. You are tantalizingly close. As I travel closer my anticipation to see you grows, my heart starts to flutter and become lighter, forgetting things that weigh on me. I cannot wait to see you again. Finally through the South Shore and up onto the Champlain Bridge approach and then the view that leaves me breathless every single time, replaces everything in my body with a momentary heady joy. Lit up and strong, you are so smart and clear and you shine and shimmer into the river and make my head chant, "home, home". I feel so proud that you are mine.
I have discovered that the things that I love are the things that I never grow tired of looking at: my kids, a long stretch of road, an orchestra, a stack of books, a blank page, and a city that never fails to make my heart leap.

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?

Six

My little girl, you are six today and I now have a taste of what your teenaged years will be like. Your life is dramatic, full of emotion and movement and love and tears. You have become the pivot in the household, the one that your brother and I follow in games and songs, the one that we wait for when a coat choice has brought you to the brink of utter despair, the one who creates and believes and directs and cajoles until we play along. You started school this year and have taken the classroom by storm. You have jumped into languages with urgency. Sometimes you are mumbling sounds with an accent and when I ask what you are saying, you explain that you are speaking French. You pull your brother out of his world and enchant him with stories and make him laugh with your jokes. Your enthusiasm, charm, and sensitivity draw your world in to you. When we go to the park you always make a new friend, and I have even watched while you have befriended a group of teenagers and gotten them to do your bidding.
You bring passion to every piece of your life and refuse to accept anything less. You are not clouded by doubt or fear, you are incredible and quick and fill your life with your dreams.
I want your life to be this perfect, always. When I look at you, it is like closing my eyes and turning my face towards the sun. You are brilliant my little Noo.
All my heart,
Momma

heard on the radio

New concert hall - OSM

September 11 was the inaugural children's concert for Montreal's newest concert hall. Five years after the project was approved, and 266 million dollars later, La Maison Symphonique is open for business! I bought our tickets in June, some of the last available in the balcony, and waited all summer in anticipation of the opening. I read the less-than-stellar reviews of the grand opening first show and Beethoven's ninth, but was not discouraged, and on the Sunday I got everyone dressed up and we headed downtown. By the time we got there, the kids and I were pretty excited. There was a lot of activity around the area with the Marathon des Arts festival happening at Quartier des Spectacles, with free tours of the hall being held to draw people in.

Approaching the hall, it is obvious that the building is not finished. Bare plywood and make-shift ramps are everywhere and the windows at the back reveal insulation, ducts, pipes, and general construction. Inside, the reception areas are sparsely furnished and airy. The spaces do not appear as large as Salle Willfrid Pelletier though, which makes me wonder how the traffic around the bars during intermissions will fair. Narrower stairs and escalators reside where I think that a wide staircase should have been. Elevators are also present, and the design seems beautifully thought out for wheelchair accessibility. I also spied some back stairs which will be no doubt ugly but will afford an easier escape. Both kids were delighted with the open space, running around an empty top reception level before heading into the concert hall. The glass walls made the space during a matinee bright and the hanging wooden sculptures are charming and set the tone for inside. The inside of the concert hall is finished, and is beautiful despite the outgassing of wood and upholstery. The light beech wood contrasted with the metal is clean and modern and a dramatic change from the weight and dark of Place des Arts, although I question the creamy white seat fabric which may be overly hopeful and ill-though-out by the designers.

We found our seats and settled near the middle at the top of the hall. Even on the balcony, the stage does not seem as distant as the older hall. And the view is impressive indeed: 1900 seats and room for 120 musicians and 200 singers. The choir area can also be used for spectators, and being able to surround the performers allows for more seating and makes the music more of a community event. Everything about the new design seems more relaxed and casual and inviting. The concert began without a lot of ceremony and Nagano appeared with two young female pianists, one his daughter, for the Saint-Saen's Carnival of the Animals. Naomi's attention was very short-lived, and I had to start hissing at her almost immediately, but Ben and I were entranced and I tried as much as possible to point out which animals were being imitated so they could follow along. Peter and the Wolf was next and Naomi was constantly asking what was happening, sometimes quite loudly as I tried to quietly translate the narration for her. The last was a ballet by Debussy which was performed by École supérieure de ballet du Québec students and which was simply too long to hold the attention of children, or adults for that matter. In addition to the restless youngsters, I saw more than one parent checking their smartphones. I think opting for a shorter excerpt from a ballet and finishing with a more dramatic musical selection would have been more appropriate for the audience. I still remember the thrill my children got from the Queen of the Night's aria last year and going back many years to another children's concert, the Star Wars theme which left small boys humming down the stairs enthusiastically and perhaps considering a career in music.

Now, the sound. Yes, it is not life changing. In my opinion, it will take about a year to tune the room completely. I don't think that this is a failure, it is a process. There is simply no way to perfect a sound for every size orchestra and every type of music and different audience sizes without playing in the hall and tweeking. The sound baffles (nine motorized canopies that move individually) are designed to be adjusted and the hall was acoustically well planned, so even though there will have to be some changes made, eventually the sound will evolve to meet the expectations of the conductors and the audience members. I didn't find the sound muddy, but from the balcony it was dulled, and didn't seem to hit the audience with enough resonance. I want to sit in different areas and see what else is happening on lower levels of the room. Luckily, I think that the initial reviews may mean that tickets will be readily available this season, hopefully at discounts.

it goes on...

Fuck

I got sacked.....

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.

"Apparently there is nothing that cannot happen today."
- Mark Twain

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." - Anais Nin

Stayin' Alive

I have a longing tonight for something sweet, simple, and genuine, with a side of smiling eye crinkles and the knowledge that you would do anything to make me smile because you just love my smile that much. Serves me right for listening to The Bee Gees, they make me naively happy. I'm missing you and smiling wherever you are.....and that's no jive talkin'....

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......