Thursday, July 28, 2011


I spend a great deal of time working at being a better person, at being positive (definitely not my natural inclination), so this post may come across as the polar opposite of those goals. However, I have decided it is necessary in order to move me towards my goals.

Not sure of the goals yet as my molasses-like self improvement must be done in sequential steps and I have only so much time with my trio of ladies requiring all sorts of care, but even baby steps are steps.

I need to determine what is is that I am not, and let those things go.

I am not someone who loves gardening. While I appreciate people who do, and the consequences of their gardening (i.e. delicious lettuce for salads, fresh radishes, beautiful flowers, green foliage), I have no intentions of gardening. Whatsoever. I have carried around a desire to desire to garden for several years now, and I hereby relinquish it to the compost heap. Which I also don't have.

I do not like Canadian television programming. While I wish I did, shows funded by Canadian grants I find boring. Sole exception to this was one show a while back where the girl was a literary agent or something who got transported through time, but then it got all weird and I stopped watching. Canadian TV is like the poor man's intellectual equivalent of trying to be British. Where British television shows are razor sharp in humour, Canadian TV is simply boring. Give me some low brow American reality garbage any day.

I am not someone who can do the same thing, day-in, day-out. For sure I can put on deodorant, brush my teeth, eat breakfast, feed my kids...all that stuff that has to get done. Note: I did not say shower or wash my hair. Those things are expendable, in my opinion. Leads me to another...I am not someone who showers and/or washes my hair everyday. Rather, I need new, I need different, and I thrive on a project with a definite end date. And you know what I've figured out? That's not such a bad thing. The world needs the focused, the ones who keep the phones working and the lights turned on. But the world also needs the ones who put the flowers on the table. The ones who make sure everyone has a good time, and who understand that there is always another day on the horizon.

And, last but not least, I am not someone who has patience. I know, I know. Patience is a virtue, yadayadayada. However, it's impatience that motivates me and impatience that gets things done in my world.

And you know what?

That's okay by me.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Triple threat

And so we were talking about our oldest starting the new school year at a Catholic French immersion school. We must think we have a pretty tough kid, given the triple threat of switching schools three times in three years, moving from public to separate system, and into French from English only. Hopefully she forgives us. Her biggest concern, alongside having a hard-sided lunch bag, is the "sign language." I'm like, sign language? Turns out it's the sign of the cross they made in the assembly when she went to check out the new school.

With my limited knowledge of Catholicism, I show her.

"No, it's the sign of the cross. Like this." I demonstrate. "Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

"Ghost? What does that mean?"

This is a tough one for me, and so I delay by telling her that is one of the many amazing things she will learn once she goes to her new school.

Not good enough.

" it like a sprite, then?"

Definition of a sprite, from perspective of someone who reads a lot of books with titles such as "Paige and the Magic Tree":

sprite: /sprit/ an elf or fairy.

And I was worried about the French.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Boom boom pow

Life is good, you know? And then there are the momentary recalibrations; the ones where something enormous really does happen, like an accident or catastrophic relationship meltdown. But there's something else that can happen, where it's as though someone picked up your world, gave it a really good, strong, quick shake, and set it back down. Everything is the same, but different.

That happened this weekend. We were walking around the lake. Correction, kid's dad and I were walking around the lake, smallest kid in jogger and bigger kids on bikes. And we were walking and talking and above all, enjoying. Dreaming, planning, you know - the things you do on a day where there's no major stuff to discuss and instead you can just talk.

And we walked by an elderly couple. I noticed them because they were walking slowly, carefully. I assume they live in the crescents, quite nearby, because of the direction they came from as well as the fact that I think it was quite a chore for the man to walk. His wife had his arm, and they walked together, not talking, just concentrating. I could tell that she was more together than he; perhaps he is sick, or his mind is starting to fade. They were both tall and thin, and wore clothes from the same colour palette. I imagine she chooses his clothing at the store and selects his outfits.

And it was like a staggering bolt of lightening, when I realized that (god willing), that will be Jade and I someday. Old, and fading. And the gamut of emotions that ripped through me were intense and thorough in the wake they left behind. From hope, that all goes well and we are blessed to walk around a lake when we're old and grey. That it isn't just one of us, alone with memories. Fear, that someone's mind will be gone. Although I can't imagine it for us, I've seen it happen and dread it.

The biggest realization, the boom-boom-pow in all this, though, was the surety, the actuality, that this, too will pass. We won't have girls on bikes, begging for ice cream and 'daddy give me a push.' We won't have sure feet and strong hearts forever. We won't necessarily have each other.

I think this is what they (I do love 'they,' so incredibly helpful) call a mid-life crisis. And while I got it in theory before, I get it in full-on, living it context now. I'm now nearly at a mid-way point, and I need to grow a new mantra. One of thankfulness, for every single precious moment I have.

I think that might be the first time I've used the word precious? Not typically a fan, but seems the only one that will do today.

Peace out.

Get on with it

To just start writing and see where it goes. Seems like crazy talk for someone whose mind swims with ideas and sentences and ... dare I say it? Desire? The desire to write, stifled for far too long, seeps into my dreams and my thoughts, continually, bothering me with the of course, undone.

Rusty. My fingers, my ideas, my ... flow. Rusty in how to get the thoughts down, no, not even that. Rusty in what thoughts? What ideas? Was this ever easy?

Keep thinking I need a schedule. I need to schedule the time, and then steal what I can. Feels an impossible task and so I put it off. Like in an interview, what is your fault? The fake answer, I'm a perfectionist...don't like to delegate control, sometimes don't finish things...the real answer? Afraid of failure, perhaps? So close, before, to accomplishing. Life got in the way a bit, the way I imagine cancer or death or catastrophic failure does.

That was helpful; that bit of regurgitating above. Perhaps to let it out, the hurt and disappointment, will allow the freedom to go forward? Perhaps, as there are tears in my eyes and a welling in my chest. Perhaps to acknowledge that some was my fault and some not; that things happen and that that is life, and to say it's okay. I'm on no one's schedule but my own. And I can be sorry and be sad that it hasn't moved at warp speed. Or I can say, okay, too bad, now get on with it.

Now get on with it.