And So She Paints

a decade.

2011-09-11T07:18:00.002-04:00

It's been ten years already.

I want to write down my account of that day as it plays over again in my mind. I want to itemize the events. I want to tell you how I was just shy of 18 years old, in the second week of my first year of college. I want to share my feelings and thoughts and all of the realizations I've come to in the years since that day.

But I don't need to do that.

The repercussions of that day are still happening. The world is still broken (most likely more so). What's important is the remembering.

I remember.

how I plan to pass the next few weeks

2011-08-05T01:32:00.001-04:00

falling behind on my nerdy pursuits

2011-07-30T22:57:00.004-04:00

The goal is to read fifty books in 365 days, and I am woefully behind where I had hoped to be at this point. The year is half over and I'm only on book 23.

1. Beloved - Toni Morrison
2. Funny Boy - Shyam Selvadurai
3. Sundays at Tiffany’s - James Patterson
4. The Inheritance of Loss - Kiran Desai
5. Water For Elephants - Sara Gruen
6. Stand Still Like The Hummingbird - Henry Miller
7. The Art of Happiness - Dalai Lama
8. A Complicated Kindness - Miriam Toews
9. You Suck - Christopher Moore
10. When You Are Engulfed In Flames - David Sedaris
11. Looking for Alaska - John Green
12. Amsterdam - Ian McEwan
13. Her Last Death, a Memoir - Susanna Sonnenberg
14. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
15. American on Purpose - Craig Ferguson
16. Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marques
17. The Girls Who Went Away - Ann Fesler
18. You Remind Me of Me - Dan Chaon
19. The End of Faith - Sam Harris
20. Through the Looking Glass - Lewis Carroll
21. Things I Learned About My Dad (In Therapy) - Heather Armstrong
22. Colors Insulting to Nature - Cintra Wilson

Currently working on Of Human Bondage by W Somerset Maugham, and planning to dive into another David Sedaris book next.

Clearly, I need to hike up my glasses and get to it! ;)

the next chapter

2011-07-28T22:57:00.002-04:00

We have begun the process of (hopefully) becoming adoptive parents, officially, tonight. There is a great deal of paperwork to get through, some alarming and disheartening statistics to wade through, classes to register for, and many conversations to be had with our families.

We've been talking about the option of adoption since shortly after our wedding, almost four years ago, but it actually feels real now.

I'm feeling excited, nervous and hopeful. Mostly hopeful. Hopeful is good.

promiscuous girl...

2011-05-01T15:05:00.001-04:00

and what a month it has been

2011-03-30T21:57:00.003-04:00

The time has come for me to declare defeat... I have officially failed at this blog challenge. At least I did post a bunch of new content for a while, and kept it up for nineteen days... but 19/30 is still a pretty crappy grade.

birthday-shmirthday...

2011-03-23T23:01:00.004-04:00

I'm supposed to be writing about my favourite birthday today, but here's the thing... I avoid my birthday, and choose to mostly ignore it. When I was younger, and believed in things like superstition, I used to think that September the 25th was a cursed day in general for me. A myriad of horrible things have happened to me on that day, year after year. I've had nastiness across the spectrum, from a seagull pooping on my French-braided hair at lunch time in high school, to learning the news of my grandfather's terminal cancer.

The last few years haven't been bad at all, consisting mostly of relaxed dinners with The Boy, followed by ice cream cake from DQ. However, I still don't like doing anything very interesting or exciting enough to warrant calling any of my birthdays as my favourite. I enjoy other people's birthdays, love baking cakes, cupcakes, and all manner of special treats for my friends and family on their birthdays, but having a big to-do for myself... meh. Not my thing.

my favourite memories

2011-03-22T20:45:00.021-04:00

I wouldn't have any clue how to choose just one...

my first kiss

2011-03-21T18:44:00.003-04:00

I was a naughty little girl, and my parents tell me that I have been smooching on the boys since I could toddle myself over to them... yup. The first one I remember was Corey, we were five, and it was while playing in his basement, hiding from the babysitter. There was much giggling, as I recall.

My first "real" kiss (aka "French" kiss) was in eighth grade, under a jungle gym at the park, and there was too much saliva going on.

*shudders*

Yup. So that's that!

:)

what dreams may come

2011-03-20T14:36:00.003-04:00

Blargh.

So I fail at this blog challenge, that is clear enough. Friday's post was a cop-out, and then I missed yesterday's post, which was an additional "what I wore today" day, because I was visiting family all day... and it completely slipped my mind.

Today's topic is "my dreams". I'm not sure if it's meant to be about my goals/aspirations, or my nighttime forays into my own psyche, so I'm going to go with the latter.

Lately, my dreams have very clearly been centred around my anxiety. There have been elaborate labyrinths, puzzles, and nonsensical problems that need solving, and a cast of characters who are modelled mostly after my family. I have a tendency to try to analyze my dreams when I wake up and am still in the midst of that sleep fog, before the details disappear... I'm sure this only adds to my neurosis, but it is what it is.

We watched inception recently, and it reminded me of how often I experience lucid dreams. Very frequently, I will me in the middle of a completely crazy dream, and I will become aware that I am dreaming and will feel like I need to influence the dream or direct it a certain way in order to try to figure out what it is my subconscious is trying to tell me.

See how I over-analyze things, even when I'm not awake?

The topic of dreams, and why we dream, has always been very interesting to me. I enjoy reading about the research of sleep and the studies done on the sleeping brain. I find it so interesting to watch documentaries on the subject, or segments of NOVA that talk about sleep research. I like that we haven't really figured out why we need sleep yet, or how exactly dreams come about. I sometimes which I had tried a little harder in high school to focus on my maths and sciences, and become a neurologist or psychologist.

Years ago, I used to keep a notebook by my bed so that I could write bits of my dreams down before I forgot them, thereby being able to look up symbols and meanings in a dream dictionary and try to interpret things, but I have since given up this behaviour. Mostly because I feel like it is a silly, fruitless practice that only leads me to dwell on things that are best left as they are.

I am not a very good sleeper. It is difficult for me to fall asleep, and when I am woken up suddenly, either by a nightmare or a noise in the night, it is really hard for me to fall back asleep. There is always this track running in my mind of things that need doing, and things that I want to think about... and when the plot of a crazy dream is added to that, I can sometimes fixate on whatever it was about. I've noticed that since I've been on the Effexor, the dreams have been a little kookier than they used to be. Maybe it's a side-effect, or maybe it's just my brain trying to work things out and heal itself.

Who really knows?

this week...

2011-03-19T00:10:00.000-04:00

... has kicked my ass. I just finished up ten days straight of working some very long and varied shifts, and I'm beat. I think it's time for me to go to bed now... I promise that tomorrow's post will be better!

Nighty night...

what's in your bag?

2011-03-17T23:17:00.004-04:00

Conveniently, this week's topic on IBC is the same as today's blog challenge topic. I just finished filming my video for tomorrow, and this is the resulting mess on my desk:

Yup. Clearly I am a hoarder, but on a very small scale that is limited to the confines of my handbag. Yikes!

(Edited to add the video below)

my siblings

2011-03-16T23:00:00.009-04:00

My family is a bit unorthodox and all over the place, and explaining my familial relationships can be a bit confusing... so hold on to your butts! ;)

My parents split when I was a few months old. My mom met the father of my younger half-brother and half-sister when I was about a year old. Though we grew up together, we were very different people in a series of very hard situations, and we had some rocky patches that drove us apart over the years. I used to leave for periods of time to go visit my dad, and there was some animosity over our different last names. I used to feel like the odd man out, because they look(ed) so much alike and shared more genetic similarities between them. I realize how silly this is, after all these years.

Despite our differences, there is this bond I share with them that I cannot explain. Maybe it comes from being scarred in the same way... or just the collection of memories that shaped us together.

The above photo is from Thanksgiving two or three years ago. The last occasion that we were all together for, I beleive.

My sister Andrea and I are really close now, and I consider her to be one of my very best friends. She is stunningly beautiful, and a wonderful mother to my nephew Matty and niece Olivia(with another on the way). She is my "baby" sister, and I am fiercely protective of her.

My brother Rick has grown up to be such a good dad to my niece Julia, and I really wish we could be closer. Both geography and the demands of day-to-day life keep that from becoming a reality.

When I was 22 I had a life-changing situation that you think only happens in movies. I found out that I had a half-sister who was just three years my junior, who had lived near my grandmother for much of her life, and we had no idea about each other.

As it turns out, when I was three, my father had been in a brief (rekindling of a previous) relationship with Jasmine's mother. They have known each other since high school, and have a long on-again-off-again history.

In 2005 (I think?) they got back together and after many revelations decided to have a DNA test done, which revealed that my father was also Jasmine's. The next year our father and Jazz's mother were married, and are still all shmoopy-goopy over each other to this day. Caren, my step-mother, also has three sons (Christopher, Joe, and Adam) from previous relationships, who are now my step-brothers.

It's quite interesting to me just how much Jazz looks like our dad, and how similar we are in personality, humour, and even hand-writing style, despite never knowing about one another when we were growing up. She is so sweet, and silly, and I love her to pieces. We've still got a lot of catching up to do, and a lot of lost time to make up for, but I love spending time with her and my newest little nephew Cameron.

<3

a fashionista, I am not...

2011-03-15T22:38:00.003-04:00

Today I worked, so I didn't wear anything fun or especially exciting... Black pants, a blue/brown/white/cream/plaid button-up top with a ribbon that cinches it below the bust, over a blue tank top. Also, a brown headband and white sneakers.

This is riveting, no?

;)

my (lack of) beliefs

2011-03-14T22:07:00.003-04:00

Today's topic for the blog challenge is meant to be about religious/spiritual beliefs, I believe (ha! see what I did there? Such a dork, I know.), but I am atheist, and therefore have none.

I could write dozens of paragraphs detailing all the points of religion and spirituality in general with which I disagree, but I feel like too often that sort of thing comes across as a confrontational manifesto, and that's just not my style.

Therefore, I present to you the following three quotes, which I believe will give you a good idea of my mindset.

"The good life is one inspired by love and guided by knowledge."
- Bertrand Russell

“There is grandeur in this view of life … from so simple a beginning, endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.”
- Charles Darwin

"I contend that we are both atheists. I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours."
- Stephen H. Roberts

a moment

2011-03-13T23:04:00.002-04:00

My cousin Kenny and I in 1987, just out of the bath, finding something my grandmother said to be utterly hilarious.

my best friend

2011-03-12T23:13:00.004-05:00

(more than a ) few words.

2011-03-10T23:37:00.004-05:00

I'm supposed to blog about my day today, but I'm kind of at a loss for words.

It's not that my day was awful, it was terribly average if anything... but my mood is sour, and my words are few.

I puttered around the house this morning, putting things in order, attending to errands that needed doing, then I headed off to work. It was steady, but not too busy, and I was able to close up shop pretty quickly.

I just can't shake this mood. I'm going to go ahead and blame my hormones. After three cycles on Clomid, I'm all out of whack and nothing seems to be going normally with my body this month. That has to be it.

After work I played with the dog a while before heading up to the office to check my emails before bed. I decided to have a look at my RSS feed reader. One of the woman I read is having twins. The jealousy hit me like a kick to the chest.

The mix of frustration, envy, anger and self-pity that I'm feeling sickens me. I don't want to be that woman who can't be happy for others who are more fortunate. The self-centeredness of my feelings is gross.

I don't know how to deal with this, but I know that I need to. I can't live my life this way... it is neither productive, nor healthy.

Huh. I guess I did have a few words after all.

fresh and delicious

2011-03-09T18:21:00.007-05:00

Now *this* is what I should have eaten for dinner yesterday, to make the food topic day of this blogging challenge more interesting!

Seeing as there are no rules that say I cannot post additional content outside the daily parameters, I'm going to go right ahead and tell you about it... it was too yummy and pretty not to share!

The recipe was from the April issue of Chatelaine, which arrived on Monday, and was full of colourful, fresh, spring-inspired recipes. Their food photography is always drool-worthy, but this recipe in particular stood out to me, and I needed to try it right away.

The recipe called for Boston lettuce and arugula, but I'm not a huge fan of arugula, so I substituted baby spinach instead. The rest of the yummy salad ingredients include sliced avocado, blanched snow peas, and bits of ruby red grapefruit, all topped with a seared fillet of simply-seasoned salmon, and a dill-grapefruit-garlic-dijon dressing.

SO GOOD!

My dutiful assistant Steve kept watch to ensure that any bits which fell to the floor were taken care of in a quick fashion.

I am entirely ready for winter to end and spring to begin so that I can start planting my veggie garden and be able to have many more salads like this to look forward to.

Definitely something I will make again. Yum!

love is...

2011-03-09T17:59:00.002-05:00

Today's topic is a fairly easy one for me - "Your definition of love" - since I recently did an IBC video on that very topic!

And here it is, for your viewing pleasure!

pancake tuesday

2011-03-08T22:21:00.006-05:00

It's day four of this blog challenge for me, and the topic of the day is "what you ate today". I really wish I had eaten something prettier, or at least more interesting, but it is what it is...

Today is apparently Shrove Tuesday, or Fat Tuesday, or Pancake Tuesday, or any-other-name Tuesday... and while I am atheist, and therefore do not celebrate the occasion (nor will I be embarking on a self-depriving ritual of any sort starting tomorrow), having a breakfast food for dinner is always something I can get behind!

For some reason, I always seem to burn the first batch. It's like, a rule or something.

The second batch went much better.

I was feeling pretty lazy tonight, so I didn't make them from scratch this time... it was an Aunt Jemima affair. I know... I know... I am a terrible Canadian for not having any real maple syrup kicking around.

my parents

2011-03-07T21:53:00.005-05:00

Kim was sixteen and Peter was nineteen.

They brought me home from the hospital to Grams & Popa's already crowded duplex on Garth street in September of 1983. They were still kids themselves. They looked so young and full of promise when these shots were taken... they didn't yet know that their relationship only had three or four months left in it, and that there were some very difficult years ahead of them.

I wish I could remember them like this.

...

Day three, and I almost forgot to blog... it's too early in this challenge for me to flake on it already! ;)

my first love

2011-03-06T00:38:00.007-05:00

Love is an interesting thing. Looking back on past loves through experienced eyes, you can see clearly the difference between childish crushes and the real deal... but when you're in the thick of it, the all-consuming lust of a new relationship, or the acute longing for someone who doesn't reciprocate your feelings can seem like so much more than what they are. The intensity with which I've felt these things in the past has made me feel like I've been in love countless times... and maybe I was, in some way.

The thing is, looking back now and comparing all those feelings against the depth and breadth of my love for The Boy, is like comparing apples to oranges. As much as I may have thought I was in love, I don't think I ever truly was until I met him. I suppose that's why I married him... haha!

The first time I recall feeling I was "in love" was with a boy named Alec. I was six, he was a much more mature and wise seven-and-a-half. We used to play on the swings and the play-structure made of tires behind the complex in which we lived. I remember the way my cheeks would burn and how my little heart would flutter at the sight of his ginger hair and freckled complexion. I was certain that we would be married, and that he, an accomplished musician, along with our six children, would accompany me on my trips around the country as Canada's first female prime-minister (This was pre-Kim Campbell, of course).

But then my wee heart was broken, and my musical-political dreams crushed when we moved out of the complex and I transfered to a new school, never to see Alec again. I still have his second grade school photo in a box of mementos somewhere down in the crawlspace, and I come across it from time to time when I'm looking for something else. The messy inscription on the back still makes me smile.

It's been twenty-one years since I saw him, but I'm sure if I did I would know his face. I wonder if he remembers our time together, and if he still has those ruddy cheeks and mischievous smile?

(re)introducing myself...

2011-03-05T16:14:00.003-05:00

My name is Christine.

So. About me... I am from Guelph Ontario. That's in Canada. I have moved around a lot over my twenty-eight years, but chose to come back to Guelph where I now live with my husband and our menagerie of pets.

I am an artist, an activist, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a small business owner, and a lover. The role that I want more than any other is to be a mother. Sometimes the struggles that we (as in, the husband and I) are going through on our journey to parent-hood make me a little crazy. I'm working on that.

Making art is my passion, but I have always been fascinated by business and have felt driven to be my own boss. Sometimes that is not economically feasible. I'm working on that too.

I studied advertising in college. I am a huge fan of nerdy television shows and science documentaries. I love reading, photography, and organic vegetable gardening. I enjoy baking and cooking, and throwing back yard barbecue parties. I enjoy musical theatre, all manner of visual arts, and like to lose myself in music.

I feel like a giant narcissist having written so many sentences that begin with "I".

I know there's no way to adequately describe oneself in a blog post, but I think that summarizes things pretty well. I try to be an open book, so-to-speak, so if there's anything I haven't covered that you're dying to know, just ask!

:)

30 day challenge

2011-03-04T16:10:00.000-05:00

I know that I have been neglecting this blog for quite some time, so, in an effort to remedy that I am flat out copying my friend Nellyphant, and doing a 30 day challenge, making myself post something each day. Hopefully that will help motivate me to get back into the swing of things.

Here is what you can expect for the next month:

Day 01 – Introduce yourself
Day 02 – Your first love
Day 03 – Your parents
Day 04 – What you ate today
Day 05 – Your definition of love
Day 06 – Your day
Day 07 – Your best friend
Day 08 – A moment
Day 09 – Your beliefs
Day 10 – What you wore today
Day 11 – Your siblings
Day 12 – What’s in your bag
Day 13 – This week
Day 14 – What you wore today
Day 15 – Your dreams
Day 16 – Your first kiss
Day 17 – Your favorite memory
Day 18 – Your favorite birthday
Day 19 – Something you regret
Day 20 – This month
Day 21 – Another moment
Day 22 – Something that upsets you
Day 23 – Something that makes you feel better
Day 24 – Something that makes you cry
Day 25 – A first
Day 26 – Your fears
Day 27 – Your favorite place
Day 28 – Something that you miss
Day 29 – Your aspirations
Day 30 – One last moment

what's next for me?

2011-01-20T15:54:00.000-05:00

”It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work, and then we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey.”
~ Wendell Berry

my three boys

2011-01-16T21:57:00.003-05:00

My loves.

<3

making vows

2010-10-06T00:53:00.000-04:00

This is from August, but as I am about to embark on this journey with fertility drugs, I feel like it is appropriate for me to revisit the vows I made to my body a while back...

there is a painting

2010-09-16T11:58:00.001-04:00

This isn’t an elegant lyric or poem
You will find no rhyme or iambic pentameter
This is only my attempt to forge a connection
With the world around me, with myself.

Somewhere inside me, there is a painting
A picture screaming to get out
A fumbling journey of self-discovery
An attempt to love where I am in this moment.

I am capable of creating great beauty
Adept at fashioning an elaborate series of masks
I am able to hide the scars on my heart
With feigned confidence and pride.

Stumbling my way through, making it up as I go,
And doing it with style.

I am an artist, I create things
But I am also apt to tear them down
Skilled in the art of self-destruction
Invalidation as self-defence.

Somewhere inside me, there is a painting
A picture that I must get out
A piece of me that I thrust out into world
My so-called soul, laid bare for your awaited scorn.

Welcome to my neurosis
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

Like, 23 years old, meeting my 20 year old sister for the first time.
Seeing my father’s smile in her cheeks
Seeing the same missing something behind her eyes
Wanting her burden to now be mine.

Somewhere inside me, there is a shy little girl
Who looks at her past through bitter eyes
But she’s getting better at the here and now
And keeps me grounded through this resplendent chaos.

Somewhere inside me, there is a painting
On the outside, my defiant art.

I hurt myself because it’s against the rules
The exquisite pain of the tattoo gun
The needle tears into my flesh
The mark it leaves, my proclamation to the world.

Having guts does not equal being fearless
Just as shared blood does not equal instant love
But I’m working at forging a brave new me
One picture, one brush stroke at a time.

Dreamscapes & Hesitations

2010-09-08T22:44:00.000-04:00

whoa

2010-08-26T21:25:00.002-04:00

Apparently, sometimes when you confront a troll, it works!

truth.

2010-08-25T19:20:00.000-04:00

"If we don't get lost, we'll never find a new route"
(Joan Littlewood)

in which I talk about happiness

2010-08-14T02:01:00.000-04:00

making lists

2010-08-10T01:10:00.002-04:00

Endless to-do lists are pouring out of me. I can't sleep. One leg hangs off the bed, bobbing and swaying... the motion comforts me, like a rocking chair and a mother's chest to a fussy infant. This analogy comforts me.

I try to focus on the motion. Focus on my breathing. Clear blue skies. A calm ocean. Anything to stop my racing mind. Can't avoid it any longer. I get up to pee, and instead of heading back to bed I walk down the hallway to my office. And so here I sit, scribbling lists.

I think that if I get it all out... get it all down on paper, then it will leave my mind. If I can actually see the tasks and reminders laid out in an orderly manner that I will be able to stop worrying about all of the to-dos and haven't-dones. I wish this were true.

I want it to stop. I do my best to think rationally and calmly but I can't stop it. It's coming no matter how many calm blue seas I imagine, or what number of breathes I count. The more I push it away, the more rational I attempt to be, the quicker my heart beats.

The panic. My heartbeat is erratic, isn't it? Did it just skip a beat? I'm breathing too fast! I must breathe more slowly. SLOWER! I'm not getting enough air. I have to breathe slower. SLOWER. Deeper. Please! Why won't my lungs cooperate? I'm going to hyperventilate if I keep this up. Why can't I stop? There it is again! My heart! Did it skip a beat, or was that one beat extra? What IS that flutter? Just breathe. Just. Breathe.

Oh god, this is going to kill me one of these days.

my baby sister got married!

2010-07-26T00:35:00.001-04:00

We spent the week at her house getting all the details in order, and making sure that all the preparations were properly made. There were many lists, and plenty of frantic phone calls... a few last-minute decisions and changes were needed. Then, Friday morning, I helped get her into her gown, and joked about needing more leverage to get her tied in...

There was a snafu with her planned transportation, so I had to make some quick arrangements with a very helpful, very nice hotel manager in order to get her to the ceremony on time...

She was nervous, afraid of being the centre of attention, so I made jokes, and did my best to keep her tears at bay. Then it was time! Matty looked like such a big boy, proudly walking his momma down the aisle...

It rained through the entire (outdoor) ceremony, but no one complained. They both cried as they read their vows, and a violinist played beautiful music while they made it all official...

They were soaking wet, so happy...

Everyone complied with my silly requests, braving more of the rain so I could get the shots I wanted...

My sister made everyone do the newly learned "shopping cart" with her...

And after all the speeches, the eating and the dancing was done, the boy and I went back to our hotel room and talked about how happy they looked, and how thankful I am that my baby sister has someone like Jon taking care of her now.

<3

my beautiful boy

2010-07-16T03:44:00.000-04:00

time-lapsed video of "just breathe"

2010-07-15T04:58:00.001-04:00

just breathe

2010-07-14T01:09:00.000-04:00

regret

2010-06-22T03:07:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I wish there was a gaping void where my conscience lives.

I'll call you when I land.

2010-06-14T00:14:00.000-04:00

nobody's mother.

2010-05-11T03:14:00.009-04:00

Sunday was Mother's Day.

My father-in-law called from the other side of the world to wish me a happy mother's day. The boy reminded him that I am not a mother, and he replied that I was a mother to our cats and the dog, so "that's something..."

I know he was trying to be sweet, and had nothing but the best of intentions, but it added a piercing blow to my already aching heart.

Whenever people ask me if I have kids I feel my stomach sink a little, and a twinge of grief creeps into my heart. "Oh, your time will come!" they always assure me. Or they casually assume that we can easily adopt, if we wanted to, and I don't care to explain the costs and lengthy processes to them.

We spent the day at my sister-in-law's home with the boy's family. My mother-in-law was there, as well as my sister-in-law's mother-in-law (I know, that's a lot of "in-laws" in one sentence, and reads pretty awkwardly, forgive me!). I love spending time with his family, and playing with our niece and nephew is one of my very favourite things... but all of the mothering, the fussing over mushy cards, the hugs and kisses and celebration of the wonderful relationship that is mother-to-child, left me feeling like I'd been kicked in the gut.

Of course I would never do anything to take away from their day. I enjoy the time I get to spend with the kids, and have some fun conversations with the adults. We share a meal, laugh together, and I manage to maintain a genuine-looking smile when I'm asked, again, when we plan to start our family.

"Soon, we hope!" I answer as sweetly as possible.

It is difficult to fail gracefully. I would like to say that I have become immune to the pain of watching everyone around me having children with ease, but I haven't. I feel like an outsider.

I feel this horrible longing to have what they have, and I feel awful because of my jealousy. I am conflicted and confused. I am so happy for them at the same time that I want to scream out that I DO NOT want to hear about it ANYMORE!!!

I feel selfish and ashamed. I know that I am not alone in this, nor am I the only woman struggling with fertility and procreation... but sometimes it feels that way.

I am nobody's mother. I am incomplete.

Nadia

2010-05-02T02:40:00.000-04:00

no secrets here.

2010-04-28T01:30:00.002-04:00

Now if only I could take my own advice...

roles-shmols.

2010-04-25T18:40:00.002-04:00

I was upstairs on my mac, working, when The Boy, downstairs watching Y&R, starts laughing suddenly...

Me: "What's so funny?"

The Boy: "Haha ' The role of Heather Stevens will now be played by -' Imagine if you missed that? You'd be like, wtf? Who's this?"

Me: "Is she hot at least?"

The Boy: "Who?"

Me: "The new chick, is she hot at least?"

The Boy: "I guess, a little bit."

Happy Earth Day!

2010-04-23T10:44:00.004-04:00

In honour of earth day today I spent the day working on my yard and getting things ready for this year's veggie garden.

Okay, full disclosure time... I was planning on doing it anyway, it was just convenient that yesterday was earth day! ;)

I really do try my best to be conscious of what impact I have on the environment, though there is so much more I could be doing, many of the "big" things, like having a hybrid or electric car, for example, are simply out of reach for me, due to the financial cost involved. However, there are many "little" things that I do to be as earth-friendly as I can, within my current means... here is a list:

Every light bulb in my house is an energy-efficient compact fluorescent
We use a programmable thermostat to maintain a temperature between 20 to 22°C, depending on the season and time of day, and often don't use the furnace or central air at all in the spring and fall
I keep a small veggie garden as well as an herb garden... you just can't beat home-grown tomatoes, beans, peppers, carrots, etc... so much yumminess!
Planting bee-attracting wild flowers in my yard
Composting yard clippings and garden trimmings
I do not use pesticides or artificial fertilizers on my lawn or garden. I get down on my hands and knees and yank out anything I don't want in there
We bring our own reusable cloth grocery bags for shopping
We like to seek out locally grown foods, and try to buy produce from within Ontario when possible (full disclosure - I can't live without things like coffee & chocolate, so I would never be able to make it on a true local or macrobiotic diet)
I really enjoy patronizing farmer’s markets
We use non-toxic cleaning supplies, or simple "home solutions" like vinegar, or baking soda. This includes laundry detergent & dish soap that is phosphate and nitrate free
We do not buy bottled water, and have instead invested in a reverse-osmosis filtration system for our kitchen sink that supplies us with our drinking water
Bringing our own water with us in reusable bottles/containers
All of our laundry is washed in cold water
We try to purchase products that use as little packaging as possible, or are made using post-consumer products
We buy recycled toilet paper
Our city has a fantastic waste-management program that requires all waste be sorted into three specific categories for separate processing... this allows us to ensure that we are recycling all paper, plastic, glass, and aluminum products. All compostable/biodegradable materials are sent to a different facility for use in biomass energy production. This ensures that very limited amounts of garbage end up in landfill.
Both my husband and I work from home (I own a small home-based business, and he telecommutes), so our car is not used very often

I think that's about it... of course there is so much more that we can do, but at least it's a good start, right? Many small measures add up to a nicer big picture!

Happy Earth Day! :)

Bad Company.

2010-04-18T01:56:00.004-04:00

I got this on my Formspring today:

Since I have neglected you - my dear blog - for a long while now, I thought I would share my answer here, since my response felt like something I would share here anyway...

Alright... Here's a random memory:

When I was nine years old, my Mom, little brother, sister, and I went to live with my mom's friend Mandy and her family for a while.

That summer the whole lot of us went to visit people who I think were Mandy's relatives. They lived in this really cool old house that had "secret" passageways between some of the rooms, including upstairs bedrooms and the attic. Creaky wooden doors in the backs of closets led to hidden, narrow hallways behind the walls. The house had a humid, sticky feeling to it, and for some reason I remember there being lots and lots house plants around.

It was made clear that we were to stay out of the way. While the adults sat in the backyard in a circle of lawn chairs, shooting the breeze, drinking, and whatever else, all of us kids crept around upstairs, pretending we were spies on an adventure.

I remember crawling up to this window that was open just a few inches, overlooking the backyard. It was one of those old wood-framed windows, with years of white paint caked over the hardware, weighing it down. There was a can (or maybe it was a jar?) propping it open, and all I could hear was "Feel like makin' love" by Bad Company blasting out of a stereo somewhere downstairs and into the yard. The smell of weed being smoked wafted in the window, accompanied by the heavy ozone smell that summer air takes on just before a thunderstorm.

I remember looking at my mother, her head thrown back, laughing... smoke from her cigarette curling around face. She looked so happy in that instance. I remember wishing I could keep her that way... wishing I scoop her up, and put in my pocket, or hide her away in one of the secret passageways of that house. I remember feeling so sad, because I knew that I couldn't, and even at nine years old I was aware that time marches on and changes everything, no matter how much you wish it wouldn't...

I heard that song today on the radio, and I thought of my mom. In my mind it's been forever linked to her and that summer.

Venus - a watercolour nude

2010-03-31T11:24:00.001-04:00

This artwork was done with Pentel watercolour paints and acid free, permanent, pigmented ink on 140 lb cold press watercolour paper. The paper size is 9x12".

On thinking for yourself

2010-01-24T21:22:00.005-05:00

Today I am cranky. I'm really trying not to be, but I hear myself being short with people, and feel as though I can't help it.

I was talking with my father on the phone earlier, and it has really soured my mood.

I know my dad means well when he starts trying to tell me about the virtues of some bastardized interpretation of a bible verse, and how we really should take the lord's advice on a particular topic, and I can barely contain the bubbling frustration in me that wants to point out to him that he should probably read the entire book for himself before he starts spouting off about how great and true it is.

He knows I'm not a fan of religion, but it seems as if he thinks it's some sort of a phase that I will grow out of, and it frustrates me.

It is so hard for me to feel the way I do when I have spent much of my life admiring my dad for his intelligence and strength. I don't want my father to feel like I'm talking down to him, but some of the things he says really set me off. How can a man with so much wisdom not see the hypocrisy in some of the things that he says? How can he start quoting scripture as if he is speaking in truisms, when he's never actually read The Bible himself, only had it read to him bits and pieces at a time, followed by some perverse interpretation and prophesying from some middle-aged, over-privileged white dude telling him how to analyze and apply the information.

I just want to yell at him to THINK FOR HIMSELF!!! for once, and really listen to what he is saying. Really analyze where that information is coming from, when it is coming from, and really question how much sense it makes. Really!

He likes to say he's a Christian, and how good and noble that is, how wonderful a guide for living he has, and he easily ignores any criticism of his supposed religion. My father hasn't even stepped foot in a church, save for the occasional wedding or funeral, in at least two decades. I've never witnessed him reading any literature on the subject, or having any conversations with any clergy or other religious scholars. He has this tiny little bit of information, and he clings to it and quotes it as if it were the absolute and complete truth, and it is driving me just a little bit mad.

Though I disagree with religion in an utterly complete way, I can at least understand the extremely pious individuals who had studied "the word" intensely and have found themselves to be passionate about the subject. I can respect a religious scholar or a learned clergyman who is able to debate on the subject, and defend their viewpoint, as much as I disagree with them. But when someone has very little knowledge of the subject about which they are arguing, they immediately lose any credibility, and this is what frustrates me when it comes up in conversation with my father.

He will mention something to me about a certain bible passage, and how it is words to live by, and sometimes I cannot help myself... I will point out to him that lovely as that verse may be, it is mere pages away from this other verse talking about stoning someone to death for gathering wood on the sabbath. I will ask him how he can pick and choose which verses he believes and lives by, and which ones he disregards. I will ask him how he can call his god a loving one, when his god would wipe out an entire city for daring to not acknowledge him in the way that he would like. I will ask him how he can believe that this book is one of love and goodness when it is filled with so much hate and violence, and I am so irritated when he easily brushes these questions aside... dismisses them as not being the important parts... being the wrong part of the book.

Apparently the new testament is the right testament... the old one, the original one, the one which provides a foundation for the other, is all irrelevant in the face of the new testament. Apparently, upon sending Jesus to earth, God got to take a mulligan on the entire old testament.

Some days it is so hard for me to continue talking to my father about anything else when I am so sad for him that he truly believes the things that he is saying. I have such a hard time taking anything else he says seriously, and this makes me so angry with myself.

I love my father. I love him so much, and I aspire to be as kind and strong, and gentle as he is. I hope to be half as wonderful a parent as he was to me when I was a small girl. Nearly every happy moment I have from my childhood involves him somehow... his strong hands pushing me on a swing, or lifting me from a pool... the way he turned scrambled eggs with cheese into the exciting and enticing "Eggs Surprise" that I would beg him to cook for me when I would see him during our scheduled weekend visitation. My father was a strong beacon of light and strength for me during some pretty dark years growing up, and I don't ever want to lose that.

But more and more often I am finding myself losing my patience when speaking with him, because he keeps peppering our conversations with religion and I cannot stand it. My father is one of the people I cherish most, and I feel myself losing respect for him. It makes me feel sick and depressed. I want to be a good daughter. The problem is that my dad taught me to stand up for myself and what I beleive in (or what I don't, in this case I suppose). My dad taught me that my intelligence was my greatest asset, and that I should be strong and assertive, as well as kind and compassionate.

How can I be a good daughter, be kind to my father, and also be myself and stand up for what I know is right?

I made a video!

2010-01-06T23:51:00.003-05:00

fat & happy

2009-12-29T20:36:00.004-05:00

We had the boy's family come to our house for Christmas dinner for the first time, and I loved every minute of it! I have the "cooking gene", as well as it's chubby little sister the "feed people as much as humanly possible" gene, so preparing dinner for nine was a happy chore for me.

I wasn't sure at first if we would be able to squeeze seven adults and two kids into our tiny eat-in kitchen area that we call the dining room, but thanks to some folding chairs, a poker table, and a group of people who don't mind rubbing elbows while they eat, we worked it out.

I might also have the "Martha Stewart" gene, because I even baked gingerbread cookies and added each person's name in frosting in lieu of a place bard.
*insert pleased-with-myself giggles here*

I decided to be ambitious and try cooking the turkey differently than I have in the past and used Alton Brown's brining method - and it turned out fabulously:

I also served buttermilk biscuits, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, dressing, candied carrots, creamy dill potato salad, as well as apple-caramel cheesecake and apple crisp with ice cream for dessert.

Don't you feel fatter just reading that? lol

The only way I was able to pull it off was baking the biscuit and the desserts the day before, and preparing the sweet potato casserole so it just needed to be popped in the oven to warm while I carved the bird. I made a detailed schedule and solid plan for the day of and stuck to it.

Afterwards we all piled down into the rec room and watched a movie. We had to set up the air mattress due to a lack of seating, but it meant that the kiddos had a comfy place to fall asleep, as well as prime cuddling opportunities, so it was a good thing.

Everyone left happy, and just a little fatter, so I'm calling it a job-well-done.

:)

silver bells

2009-12-24T20:12:00.000-05:00

My husband calls himself Roman Catholic (though non-practising) and I am an atheist (though I call myself a secular humanist), and we both love to celebrate Christmas (though in an entirely secular and commercially propogated way).

I am a big fan of hauling out our well-loved artificial tree and all the other sparkly, shiny bits that make our home feel so cheerful and inviting during the otherwise dull month of December.

Happy Holidays! :)

This is going to hurt tomorrow...

2009-12-20T06:23:00.003-05:00

For the record, tonight I consumed:
1 bottle of cabernet sauvignon
+ several shots of hypnotique
+ a shot of strange Japanese liquer that we only purchase because it has weird floating fruits in it (we referred to it as testicle juice for the rest of the night)
+ chocolate martinis made with white rum because there was no vodka around
= a very good evening that will surely result in a headache for me.

That probably did not make any sense, but I don't care, because I am very very drunk.

Why am I tryng to blog while I am drunk?

Just because.

and that's when I killed him your honour...

2009-12-04T14:13:00.003-05:00

The boy has has a couple of running jokes that he thinks are positively hilarious. The main one is annoying me into saying things to him sarcastically, and then turning my sarcasm against me... another is taking movie quotes and bastardizing them for his own purposes. In this case it's the "I am dangerous... ice... man." from Top Gun.

I realize that explaining this all probably kills any inherent humour in the exchange to follow, but I felt you might need the back story to understand our insanity.

So I was laying in bed this morning beside the boy, after waking him up...

The Boy: "Your eyes look tired"

Me: "Yeah, I am"

The Boy: "Ice Man"

Me: "What?"

The Boy: "You ARE tired... ice... man"

Me: "Not what I said"

The Boy: "Yes it is."

Me: "No, I said Yeah, I am"

The Boy: "See!"

Me: "No. You said that my eyes looked tired, and I agreed, because I am tired. I said Yeah, I am"

The Boy: "No, you said I am... tired"

Me: "Yeah, that's totally what I said, exactly."

The Boy: "See... I told you. Ice man."

Me: "Wow."

The Boy: "Man, that joke is awesome... seven years, and it's still awesome."

Me: "Why? Must you always do that?"

The Boy: "Yes. SEVEN YEARS."

Grace in small things - part 45

2009-11-29T07:57:00.002-05:00

a trip to the local farmer's market with the boy
freshly made apple-cider doughnuts from the Mennonites
imagining that the doves and finches are appreciative, and somehow know it's us who fills the feeders in our yard
curling up on the sofa under a warm fleecy blanket
watching tv with the boy, and providing our own colour commentary to the silliness on the screen

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

the almosts and could-have-beens

2009-11-29T05:53:00.005-05:00

I've been feeling nauseous off and on for the past three days. I'm attributing it to my meds, or that I started taking the pre-natals again (just in case we ever get lucky), or that it's just another symptom of the foul mood I've been in lately.

I do my best not to let the boy know just how foul I'm feeling lately because he worries so much. It's probably counter-productive, since I end up feeling cruddy longer because I'm holding it in... but I don't like that look he gets when he's worried about me... his brow is knit with concern and he is determined to fix me... to take on my stress, or ask an endless stream of questions until he gets to the bottom of what's bothering me. Sometimes I don't want to have to explain that there is nothing in particular that is bothering me, it's just that I am bothered in general. Does that even make sense?

Probably not.

So I'm sitting at my desk, working away... reconciling receipts, listing prints, and sipping on room-temperature water, trying to ignore that wave of yuckiness (is too a word spellchecker! Because I said so, that's why!) that comes and goes. I put my head down on the desk periodically and wait for it to go away. I'm trying to ignore it because I'm sure that it's nothing. I really am.

I won't let my mind go there anymore... I used to get just a little bit excited if I started feeling nauseous, because it could mean that we had succeeded... that my biology wasn't a failure after all! I don't allow myself to get my hopes up anymore because I don't want to feel like I'm mourning every time I bleed... especially when it comes late, as it often does. I don't like imagining that we were (at least partially) successful, and maybe conception had in fact occurred, and it's more than run-of-the-mill menses being flushed away.

I don't like knowing that it is often the case... that my problem isn't entirely with conception, but with getting it to stick. I don't know how to stop myself from grieving the almosts and the could-have-beens.

Then I get angry with myself for feeling like I'm losing hope... for not being more positive. As if a smile on my face will somehow a baby make. I try not to let it get to me when people say "maybe if you weren't trying so hard" or "maybe if you just stopped thinking about it... it will happen when it is meant to". Because it's somehow my fault that my plumbing doesn't work, right? Clearly I am subconsciously and deliberately self-defeating, psychically destroying each zygote with my negative thoughts! Thank you for pointing that out to me - it's all so clear now!!!

Grrrrrrr!!!

I know... I don't need to be an asshole about it. It's not anyone else's fault either, and their intentions are not to make me feel worse. I know that I should lighten up, and that there are other (very expensive) options out there for me... for us... but it's hard to be positive when the chaos in your uterus matches the clutter in your mind.

I know I shouldn't dwell, and I'm not trying to be this way... I swear that I don't live in my own perpetual self-pity party. I'm actually a pretty bubbly person... but sometimes I'm a mess, and I wish I was just a little less so.

I'm rambling. Again.

can I fake it 'till I make it?

2009-11-28T04:37:00.003-05:00

I have these pictures in my mind that I need to get out.

That's the way my drawings and paintings start. But I try to get them out too quickly I think... I draw furiously, rushing to empty the image from my mind before it slips away, before the idea is gone... and the end result ends up feeling flat.

I feel like I should take more time with my pictures. Nurture them. Build them slowly, bits at a time. Leave them for a while and then revisit them. I beleive that this approach would produce better art... that the paintings and drawings, and little doodles and bits would have more emotion in them... I think that they would have more feeling, and consequently they would draw more people to them... maybe then I would be a "successful artist".

Maybe then more people would buy my work.

But I can't create this way. I want to. I need to. But I can't. Instead I am compelled to rush into it when the mood strikes, and work away at a feverish pace, producing many pieces in a night, until I am completely spent... until all the pictures and ideas are drained from my mind... my fingertips are numb... my hand is aching... my heart is empty... I push myself until I have to sleep.

It seems manic, almost. It is a little crazy, but that's the only way I know how to produce my art. One would think that this would result in fun, fiery paintings with lots of movement and texture and feeling... but what it produces are paintings of birds, and drawings of goldfish... sketches of dainty ballerinas in fluttery tutus.

If I'm feeling especially "indie" I might come up with a tattooed woman, or a sassy pin-up... but that's about as badass as my artwork can get.

I want more.

I want to produce giant pieces with thick flashes of colour, and found pieces of pages from old texts... swirling abstracts and striking colour fields... dark portraits of lost lovers with haunting eyes. But when I try to paint like that... when I try to get those images down on canvas, or paper, or whatever surface I can... what comes out feels fake. It feels like I'm trying too hard to be something that I'm not. It doesn't feel... authentic.

I don't know what I'm doing... I don't know who I am as an artist.

Why did I think this was a good idea again?

I get frustrated with myself for thinking that I could possibly make it as a full-time artist... as a small business owner... as my own boss. I'm not good enough. I'm not talented enough. I'm not strong enough. Sometimes I feel like I'm only pretending to be an artist, and that someone is going to notice... that they'll point out how there are too many brush strokes in that particular painting... I must have struggled to get the right gradation in the shading... Then everyone will know I'm not a "real" artist. I'm just good at faking it.

Okay. Breathe.

I know... we are all our own worst critics. I know that I can do more. I am capable. I am better than this. Maybe I just need to write affirmations like that all over my office and repeat them to myself all day... that wouldn't make me seem any more crazy, right?

Haha. Yup. Manic.

I don't know where I'm going with this, or why I even started typing this out. I probably shouldn't even hit publish. I don't know what I'm doing here, right now, this minute. Beating myself up because my sales aren't where I hoped they'd be when I decided to take this risk and focus on my art. What is the point of this? This isn't productive, and this won't help me be a better artist... and it's certainly doing nothing good for my level of anxiety.

I wish I could just get over myself and get on with it.

hide & seek

2009-11-18T03:21:00.001-05:00

Grace in small things - part 44

2009-11-13T07:15:00.002-05:00

feeling prepared for my first ever trade show since starting to do my art full time
how sweet and helpful the boy has been as preparations for this show have consumed my life recently
the yumminess of light cream cheese on a toasted blueberry bagel
the crisp smell of fall air in the morning
the soft purring from one of my cats, Shadow, as she sprawls across my arms, on the desk between me and my laptop

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

shine

2009-11-05T02:50:00.001-05:00

This is the post where we cross over into too much information land... way, way TMI... A Public Service Announcement

2009-11-02T00:15:00.006-05:00

I am sharing this as a note of warning to the ladies out there, so that they may learn from my daft mistake.

Always, and I mean ALWAYS... no matter what... even if you think your hands are clean...please, for the love of everything... make sure that you wash your hands thoroughly and completely before attempting to remove a Diva Cup...

Especially if you have very recently been rubbing Vicks Vapo-rub onto the chest of your ill husband.

*shudder*

Camphor and eucalyptus + sensitive lady bits = OW OW OW OW OMIGAWD OW!!!!!

That is all.

two years

2009-10-13T07:26:00.005-04:00

This post is for you, "the boy", the love of my life...

We've been married for two years today... we've been together for more than seven in total. You are still my favourite person in the whole world.

My best friend, my lover, my parter in life.

Happy Anniversary.

Grace in small things part 43

2009-10-08T01:05:00.000-04:00

enjoying the fall harvest of my vegetable garden
cooking with the last zucchini from my garden, as well as freshly picked tomatoes, peppers and herbs - that it was the last zucchini might just be the best part...
the way my house smells from the herbs and chicken - yum!
the fizziness of grapefruit soda, and how it tickles the roof of my mouth
a pretty pink scarf with black polka-dots on it

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

wind and rain and thunder and lightning

2009-10-07T04:43:00.005-04:00

The sounds outside my office window are ferocious. I swear I can feel the house tremble from the thunder, and it's as if the whole structure is swaying, just slightly, from the force of the wind gusts. The rain sounds almost solid, beating against the glass. I've always loved a good thunderstorm. Ordinarily there is something about them that makes me feel peaceful... like drinking tea, curled up on the couch with a blanket. Tonight, or this morning rather, this particular storm sounds ominous and a little to close over the house... and the racket of it is doing nothing to improve my foul mood.

Maybe it's the quiet of this time in the morning that is amplifying the sounds and making them seem more powerful than they really are. Everyone else is in the deepest stages of sleep, and the house has settled...it's too early for people to be up and driving towards their day shifts, so the roads are free of traffic and the sidewalks are clear. The only sounds are the crashes from the sky and the howling wind. It's startling. It's haunting.

I keep toying with the idea of going outside and standing in the storm... face up to the sky... letting the rain and the wind whip my skin... allowing the cold to numb my body. I feel like maybe if I stand there long enough, and soak in enough of it, the numbness will reach my mind... and then I will have some rest tonight.

Typing that sentence feels melodramatic, and pitiful, and tired. It feels like I'm going on about nothing... like I have a woe-is-me attitude that would make you roll your eyes and think that I should just get over myself. You might think that I should just walk it off... suck it up... get on with it... I feel like I should be able to brush this aside... get over these feelings... but I can't... at least not tonight.

Tonight I am in a dark place. It's as if there is an invisible blanket wrapped around me... wrapping tighter and tighter... the pressure on my chest, and my temples, and my neck... my shoulders are tense and my legs are restless... I try to shake them out... shake it off... but the pressure keeps building... I feel as if I am burdened down with some great weight that I can't slide out from under. There is a buzzing in my ears... behind my eyes... a persistent hum that forces me to focus on little else but the pressure, and the tightness, and the humming, and this feeling like I need to run away somewhere and hide... somewhere that I can be still, and calm, and quiet.

And then there's a crash of thunder and I almost jump out of my skin. I'm nauseous and flighty and lethargic all at once. I'm a snivelling contradiction.

I focus on my breathing. Inhale deeply.... count to five.... hold it for five... exhale slowly... counting to five... hold it for five... inhale deeply... "Picture a plateau" the doctor has said... coping exercises... "Visualize yourself relaxing".... count to five... hold it for five...

The wind howls and breaks my focus... I want to cry... I want to cry out... I want to be okay.

I want to be better.

Grace in small things part 42

2009-10-06T01:35:00.004-04:00

having a three hour and fifty-four minute long telephone conversation with my sister
being able to open up to my sister in ways that I haven't allowed myself in the past
being able to listen to her, and be there for her as well
remembering that we've gone through the same/similar crap, and that we're both just as damaged from it all
feeling a little less alone in the world

I am participating in Grace in Small Thing

executive in charge of seat warming

2009-10-05T04:05:00.003-04:00

Our pug, Trevor Beans Tiberious Meliton Esquire, has decided that he is on the company payroll. Yup, again with the ridiculous name on a pet. You can call him Trevor, or T-Dawg. He responds to both.

When I sleep in, and the boy is working in the office, Trevor likes to occupy my seat... he's our office assistant/executive in charge of seat warming.

(That wall of paper taped together on the left side, on the end of my desk is to keep evil cats from jumping up onto paintings that may be still wet and on the desktop)

hummingbird in flight 1

2009-09-19T04:37:00.001-04:00

my new space

2009-09-12T03:41:00.003-04:00

Friday was my last day at the soul-sucking cube job. My last day of staring at that computer monitor and those beige walls and that evil old crone with the awful bleached hairdo.

I'm going to miss some things about my cube job, of course. I made friends in the three years I was there... it's hard to spend nine hours a day, five days a week with a group of people, and not get close to at least some of them. I will miss those people, and I will miss our daily conversations. I will miss that place for the social interaction, and of course the consistent paycheque... but I am happy to be out of that cube... out of that space, and into my home office full-time.

This is what I will be staring at for hours on end now instead. I have done my best to create a functional, comfortable space where I can be creative and productive. It is well ordered, and tidy.

Now if only I could get the space inside my head in as good a shape, I would be set.

It's funny how the giant leaps have been the easiest things this past year... surprisingly... but the baby steps, the slow and steady pace of treating my issues and managing my anxiety and depression, that's what's really kicking my ass...

I'm afraid that if I can't get out of my head and get on with things... if I can't figure out these baby steps, and get one foot in front of the other when it comes to my thoughts and emotions... then there is no way I can be successful with my big plans. I don't know how to focus on the big picture and getting down to the business of my new business, when I'm smack in the middle of one of what the boy and I refer to as my "sad for no reason" times.

I know what to do, and how to do it, but sometimes it's so hard to keep my mind on my goals when all I want to do is lay down in my room with the curtains closed and a blanket over my head. I'm afraid that I won't be motivated to succeed now that I'm not tied to an office schedule that determined my hours of productivity. I'm afraid of spending too much time inside my head. I'm afraid that the relief I feel from no longer being stressed out about my previous job is nothing in comparison to what I've got ahead of me.

Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right....

Grace in small things part 41

2009-08-21T23:58:00.000-04:00

taking the dog for a walk with the boy
holding hands with the boy while we walk
the sweet stickiness of the summer air and the cool breeze that makes it actually feel pleasant
eating a bowl of lucky charms at 10:30pm, because I wanted to, and will not feel guilty about it
the little coagulated sugary bits that are allegedly marshmallows in lucky charms... so tasty...who knew this crap actually tastes good to people older than seven?

I am participating in Grace in Small Thing

a ferocious beast

2009-08-19T03:19:00.001-04:00

This is Professor Dustin Robert Meliton...or Dusty for short.

Yes, I know it's really annoying that he has a ridiculous name like that... and it's not really his name anywhere else but on his vet file... but it's silly... and I like silly... sometimes you have find ways to inject joy into your life, to lift you out of the mundane every day life crap... and I choose to do that by giving my pets preposterous monikers that begin with titles like "Professor" and "The Right Honourable".

I snapped this photo of him mid-yawn when he was perched on the corner of my desk, hovering over me as he likes to do at all times. He's still sporting his lion-cut hairstyle that he gets once a year to give him some relief from the summer heat, as well as give us some relief from his uncontrollable matting.

He looks intimidating, but he's a little love muffin once you get to know him. He is now twelve years old, and has been with us for four and a half years. When we adopted him from the Toronto Humane Society, he was so scrawny and sickly and quite ornery. It's taken him this many years to finally trust us enough that he can now fall asleep on my lap, though he still doesn't jump up on us without coaxing.

He loves to be scratched under the chin, and he's always somewhere nearby, watching and waiting for you to notice him and give him a pet. At night when I'm brushing my teeth, he hops up on the vanity and rubs against my belly and meows until I pet or brush him while I attempt to complete my nightly routine with my free hand. He's sweetie, and he often affectionately head bumps me and the boy, so we know that he's just as fond of us as we are of him.

Grace in small things part 40

2009-08-16T01:10:00.003-04:00

quitting my job, at last (though not a small thing, it needed to be on the list!)
feeling completely anxiety-free since Friday afternoon
having a lot of fun working on Halloween themed items for my Etsy store
had a very relaxing, and refreshing two-hour nap this afternoon
not dreading going back to the office on Monday... for the first time in months!

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

i did it

2009-08-14T21:15:00.003-04:00

I handed in my resignation today. I'm going for it... I'm going to be my own boss.

I gave them almost four weeks' notice (should that be possessive? I feel like the word "weeks" should have an apostrophe, but it looks a little awkward. Anyway...) which is a little long for a sales support position, and much more than the obligatory two, but I am the resident trainer, and if I don't stick around long enough to train my replacement, I would feel really shitty about leaving someone else to do it.

So yeah... I'm all courteous and shit.

The boss asked me if there was anything he could say or offer to persuade me reconsider, but I explained my master plan to him, and he gets it... he appreciated my desire to pursue my art, and he might even be commissioning a painting or set of paintings for his soon-to-be-born daughter's nursery. He gave me a hug, and I instantly felt a little guilty about all the horrible things I had felt and said about my work and my work environment. He's a really nice man, and he genuinely wishes me well, and I am happy that he and many of my soon-to-be-former-coworkers are supportive of my business plan.

I'm really happy. And excited. And nervous.

I've got so much to do!

Grace in small things part 39

2009-08-10T11:44:00.000-04:00

laying in bed, all warm and cozy, listening to the rolling thunder and wind gusts of the summer storm outside
fresh cucumbers from my garden
feeling more creative and productive than I have in a long time
the pretty yard down the street with oodles of hollyhocks in a rainbow of colours
my newly charcoal-coloured walls in our basement den

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

"Lovely"

2009-08-09T02:03:00.002-04:00

Grace in small things part 38

2009-08-09T01:52:00.003-04:00

finally getting around to getting the basement painted
(almost... the baseboards still need to be done, but the bulk of the work is done)
sleeping in for nine days in a row... can I get a "Woot Woot!" for vacations?
deciding to make our vacation a "stay-cation", and having it be lovely and productive and completely what we needed
rearranging our office space into a more functional and aesthetically pleasing layout
being awakened (woken up? wakened up?I never get this one correct) by the boy rubbing my back and arms, and touching my face... so sweet!
(and about a million times better than the usual alarm clock in the morning)

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

ZUCCHINI!

2009-08-08T02:38:00.007-04:00

See those lovely, innocent little yellow blooms? So pretty, right? So fresh, and summery!

Wrong! They are bad, bad flowers. They will bring zucchini... and zucchini has become my nemesis.

My refrigerator is overflowing with giant green phallic shaped vegetables. The refrigerators of my coworkers and family members are being overtaken as well by these evil little beasts. I've contemplated sitting out on my front step and offering them to passers-by, or putting a basket-full at the end of my driveway that says "Zucchini, free to a good home!"

At first I was all "Yum!" and excited that my little garden experiment was proving fruitful. But the zucchini just kept coming... and these are no slender little pretty zucchini that you see at the grocery store... Nay, these are giant, robust zucchini that could inflict blunt force trauma if swung at someone. They pop up so quickly that I am picking some every other day... and they won't stop.

My vegetable garden has gone from this...

To this...

... in what feels like only a few days. And it does not show any signs of slowing down. The zucchini has grown so much more quickly than the other vegetables that the broad leaves create a canopy over some of the other plants, and I'm afraid that they will not be nearly as healthy or fruitful.

There are only so many times we can eat stir fry with zucchini, and grilled slices of zucchini, and steamed zucchini as a side dish, and pasta with zucchini, and zucchini grated into sauces... and zucchini... zucchini...

ZUCCHINI!

Lesson learned I suppose. The tomatoes and the zucchini will be planted on their own, outside the box next year. And I will only be planting one zucchini plant... and maybe I will neglect to water it sometimes... or something like that.

Anyone want some zucchini?

Serious.

on feeling normal

2009-08-07T22:15:00.003-04:00

I didn't realize just how anxious I was really feeling, until I felt calm.

I never considered myself to be a stressed out or edgy person... people don't describe me as highly-strung or tightly wound (at least not to my face - ha!)... but I am coming to terms with the fact that I do indeed have anxiety, and the issues that come along with that.

The attacks are one thing... they are a blip... a bump... an event that affects only the time and space it occupies, and not the rest of my life. At least that's what I thought. I never realized how constant and persistent the anxiety was... how ingrained it was in what I had considered to be my usual way of feeling, until it was gone.

So.

So the boy and I were in the car, driving to visit some friends the other weekend, talking about nothing in particular... I mentioned that I was feeling weird...

The Boy: Weird how? Are you Okay? Is it another attack?
Me: No! Please don't worry... I'm fine!
The Boy: Are you sure? How's your breathing?
Me: Not like that... I feel odd... good... but odd... it's like, this... nothingness...
The Boy: Nothingness?
Me: Yeah... I mean, I'm okay... it's just that... I don't know... I don't know how to describe it... I wouldn't say that I'm numb... it's just... I'm not particularly sad, but I'm not especially happy either... I'm... I just am.
The Boy: *laughs at me*
Me: What?
The Boy: So what you're saying is that you're relaxed.
Me: Huh. Yeah. I guess that's it.

And then we laughed... and laughed...

*sigh*

So I'm feeling more normal... and calm... at least most of the time. I'm still working with my doctor to get the right dosage levels and such... and then there's the impending counselling (Dun-dun-duuuhhnn!).

But there are still some days that are pretty rough. There are days when I have to try really hard to listen to that rational part of my brain that tells me that what I am feeling is temporary, and that tomorrow will be better... that I can handle whatever is happening... that I am indeed okay... and all that jazz...

Work in progress, right?

a symphony of snores

2009-08-06T02:40:00.003-04:00

There are so many different creatures snoring around me, I'm not sure which one is coming from my husband...

I'm pretty sure the high-pitched, squeeky one is from our squishy-faced persian-ish cat Dusty, who is sleeping in the hallway.... and the one that vaguely sounds like a pigeon cooing is definitely from Molly, our big, chunky ball of fluffy-love kitty #2... but the other two snores are a toss up... one is the boy, and one is the pug...

It's a veritable symphony of snores around me. Joy.

I can't seem to sleep tonight (shocking!)... but at least I've been productive.

I just finished priming all the wood trim and the ugly wood-covered wall in the basement... I also sanded all the plastered spots on the basement walls, listed eleventymillion new things in my Etsy store, sent out annoying spam to my Facebook group members about a new special, watched a bunch of videos on Youtube, and thought about painting my toenails...

Okay... the last two weren't so productive, but it is quite a list for middle of the night on a Wednesday. Thankfully I do not have work tomorrow, as we are currently on holiday... enjoying a "staycation"... so if I do manage to get sleepy enough to actually fall asleep, I can stay in bed as late as I like... even if that means not dragging my butt out of bed until the pm... so there! How do you like that, evil insomnia gremlins!?

*groan*

I think I'm a little high from all the paint fumes.

"Lady of the Circus"

2009-07-28T21:40:00.003-04:00

Grace in small things part 37

2009-07-26T20:30:00.002-04:00

an evening of complete slothiness
watching hours of tv saved up on the DVR
eating food that is terrible for me
snuggling on the sofa with the pug
enjoying saying the made-up word slothiness. Sloth-i-ness. Slothiness!

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

not in stock

2009-07-22T18:58:00.002-04:00

Allow me to preface this by saying that I have personally had a variation of this conversation with this customer at least a half dozen times in as many months... there are three other people at my soul-sucking cube job who are in the same position at me, so we can assume that they have dealt with him as well...

Me: That item is non-stocked, Sir, so I will need you to send your P.O. in by fax.

Jerk-face: No.

Me: Sir, I cannot order the material in without a written purchase order, unfortunately.

Jerk-face: I can order all this other goddamn material, but YOU won't take my order for this sheet without it in writing... does that make any sense to you?

Me: I can only accept verbal orders for stocked items.
Jerk-face: Bullshit.
Me:Unfortunately we have to adhere to that policy because of other companies who have ordered material in, special order, and then refuse it when we bring it in, or deny ordering it, and we are unable to re-coup the cost, as we do not have written proof that the order was placed by them

Jerk-face: Even when the fuckin' company has been ordering from you for years? It's bullshit!

Me: Believe it or not, it is a continuous problem for us.

Jerk-face: I don't believe a damn thing you say

Me: silence...

Jerk-face: Fine. I'll fax it in.

Me: Have a good day Sir.

And then Jerk-face hangs up... and I sigh... and try to ignore the urge to strangle someone with the phone cord...

Grace in Small Things: Part 36

2009-07-21T22:25:00.004-04:00

receiving a request for a custom order on my Etsy store
picking the first ripe zucchini from my garden
counting down to my vacation away from the dreaded cube job - 10 days to go!
lemony yellow paint
soft-serve ice cream (the kind where the vanilla and chocolate are swirled together... so good!)

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

it is, after all, in you to give...

2009-07-19T19:10:00.001-04:00

Can I donate blood, now that I am on these drugs? I should look into that... I have been itching to donate... for that feeling that I've done something really good for someone else I will never meet. Plus I feel a little obligated... when I was twelve I had my tonsils out... during the procedure I hemorrhaged pretty badly, and lost a lot of blood. I needed a transfusion. If someone else, who I've never met, hadn't donated blood... who knows?

For all I know, my blood might never be used... it might expire before it's needed, and get flushed away... medical waste. Or it might save a life. Several lives. I like to think that it is used... that it is really needed... that someone out there is now walking around because my blood is flowing through their veins.

It's a kind of high, the feeling of possibly changing a life... doing something really good, but thankless... does feeling good about it, and doing it for that feeling turn a selfless act into something selfish? Something sinister?

I am too cynical. I shouldn't feel guilty about getting joy from this... should I?

Or maybe it's that I am just a little off... after all, how many people think it's fun that they have possibly had a part of them touch someone else's heart... literally.

*insert rimshot here*

I enjoy growing things

2009-07-18T03:10:00.000-04:00

There is something very pleasurable about growing things. I like getting my hands dirty. I like the smell that tomato plants leave on my hands. I like knowing exactly what has gone into the food that I will eat, and that it grew because of my hard work.

I especially like it when I discover that one of the little bunches of green is finally growing something that actually resembles food... that's when it really pays off.

Behold! Broccoli:

Okay... so it's tiny, little, itty-bitty-baby broccoli... but it still feels good. Bet you've never seen such adorable broccoli before!

:)

"His Tiny Hand"

2009-07-16T22:04:00.001-04:00

She said comeover, comeover...

2009-07-14T23:11:00.000-04:00

Tonight my only goal was getting out of my own head... so I put "Born Slippy" by Underworld on repeat, turned it way up, and I danced.

I spun in circles, and waved my arms around, and swung my hair from side to side... I laughed at how silly I must have looked, and I let go of everything.

I danced until I was exhausted and my lungs wanted to burst out of my chest... and then I collapsed onto my office chair and felt the blood rushing through my body as I caught my breath... I listened to my heartbeat pounding in my ears... and it was strong... it was good.

Grace in Small Things

2009-07-10T21:57:00.001-04:00

I've been quite diligent about my participation in the Grace in Small Things challenge so far... but I don't think I can keep up this pace... posting every day is a struggle for me.

I am going to scale it back to less than every day, but as often as I can, and see how that works out... no stringent schedule, but instead a more organic flow of graciousness for the little things.

Why does using the word "organic" in a sentence like that make me feel like a yuppie?

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

still

2009-07-07T20:18:00.004-04:00

I want to be still. I want to be gentle, and quiet, and soft. I want to sit, alone, and empty of worries, and without a "to do", and be okay with that.

I want to be calm, and peaceful, and serene.

I want to be untroubled without being lifeless, close-mouthed but not silenced. I want to be motionless without being stagnant. Restful. Stable.

I want to be still.

Grace in Small Things: Part 35 of 365

2009-07-07T19:53:00.003-04:00

the smell of garlic cooking
the cool breeze pouring in my open windows
the sound of Molly, one of my cats, snoozing: half purr, half snore, with a few intermittent squeaks
snapping photos of sleeping cats
painting an ice cream sundae, for no reason

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

anxiety

2009-07-06T21:24:00.005-04:00

Last week I began taking serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor drugs for depression and anxiety disorder. That's an awfully long-winded way of saying that I am on antidepressants... mood-stabilizers... crazy pills.

I haven't told anyone, and I made my husband promise not to tell a soul (so, naturally, I am blabbing about it on the internet...makes perfect sense!)... I have this self-imposed shame and stigma attached to taking medication for my anxiety issues... even referring to it as "my anxiety issues" feels foreign... like something I would not say... should not say.

Part of my brain (the calm, rational part) knows that this should not be a big deal... I tell myself that I'm an asshole for feeling like some sort of freak for needing medication to deal with my "issues"... as this means that I somehow think that other people who need simillar drugs for their own treatment must be freaks, by extension of this line of thinking... and I definately do not think that... Rationally speaking, I know that anxiety and depression are fairly common... pretty normal... and that people should do what they need to do to feel better and be able to function like they need to...

But part of my brain feels like this somehow makes me a "crazy person"... damaged... weak.

I should be stronger than this... I should be able to handle things... I've always been able to handle everything that life threw at me... I roll with the punches... I take care of business... I don't break down... and I certainly do not have anxiety attacks.

Afterall, what have I got to be stressed about? I have a wonderful husband... I have a job... I have a house... pets... friends... love... food in the fridge... fresh air... clean water to drink... I am happy.

I feel like I should not have anything to complain about... that so many people are far worse off than I am... afterall, most of my issues are "first world problems", and I should be thankful for what I have... right?

I have this internal dialogue that runs through my head when I start to feel sorry for myself... it goes something like this:

Crappy, dead-end job... pffft! that's nothing... evil co-worker... let it roll off your back... starting my own business as an escape plan from crappy job... I should be so lucky to have that opportunity... haven't had an actual vacation ever... neither have most working-class people, right? fertility issues? at least I have other options left to explore... issues from a very, um, complicated childhood... not a problem! It's in the past!

And on and on it goes... complaining makes me feel like a whiner... ungrateful.

I have always had that "keep calm and carry on" mentality... and that's my problem. Things don't bother me... I don't get "stressed out".

When the anxiety attacks started, I was convinced it was an asthma attack. The boy ran downstairs to get my ventalin, and I took two puffs... two more... but I couldn't breathe... and the steroids just made my heart race harder... my head was swimming... I was convinced that I was going to die.

I tried to convince the doctors that if it wasn't my lungs, that it must be my heart... I was sent for tests... and an EKG... the doctor tried to teach me some breathing techniques for quieting a panic attack... I was sure it had to be physical... It couldn't be mental... not me... I don't feel "crazy".

...

So here I am, a week into my new treatment... and I'm feeling a little better... a little calmer. I am supposed to start seeing a counsellor later this month, and aside from the waves of nausea as I get used to the medications, I think I'm feeling pretty good...

I am being forced to do some hard self-examination... exercise some demons... adjust my priorities.

This is a good thing.

Grace in Small Things: Part 34 of 365

2009-07-06T20:38:00.002-04:00

receiving a lovely wedding invitation in the mail
flipping through our wedding photos and remembering the fun we had that day
a ripe pear
adding pages of lovely finds to my favourites list on Etsy
spiral paper-clips

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

Meet "Carmen"

2009-07-05T22:11:00.001-04:00

Grace in Small Things: Part 33 of 365

2009-07-05T21:34:00.000-04:00

a fun dinner with fabulous friends
good conversation over wine and beers
sitting on the fabulous friends' backyard patio until sunset
board games - such simple fun, but sometimes just right!
long weekends

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

Grace in Small Things: Part 32 of 365

2009-07-04T20:33:00.000-04:00

1. a perfectly brewed cup of earl grey

2. brightly coloured post-it notes in lime green and hot pink

3. a good hair day

4. green tea & mint invigorating foot spray

5. a new pen

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

Grace in Small Things: Part 31 of 365

2009-07-03T19:46:00.002-04:00

having completed an entire month of taking notice of the little positive things in my daily life
having a month's worth of lists to look back on when I need a little reminder of all the beautiful things in my life
sleeping in... waaaaay in
three shiny new books that the boy brought home for me as a surprise gift
the smell of campfire

(seems like someone in my neighbourhood is having a fire in their yard... or I suppose it might be indoors, in a fireplace as well... in any case, it smells lovely, and is making me want to roast marshmallows, and sit with my loved ones in a circle telling stories)

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

On working for myself...

2009-07-02T22:38:00.005-04:00

"It's a funny thing about life: if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it." - W. Somerset Maugham

I am very fond of the quote above... I plan to make it my reality. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

There are a few obstacles that I need to over come first, the least of all being our financial situation, and being able to secure some sort of a start up loan or coming up with another plan to get my initial working capital.

The biggest obstacle, of course, is my own fear. Hate it though I do, my little cubicle is a pretty safe place to be. The company might be affected by the recession, but I am really good at my job, and have confidence that my job is secure. I don't make a great deal of money, but it is consistent, and I have a great health plan, and RRSP's, and paid vacation, and all those lovely things that come from gainful employment.

The only problem is that when I get up in the morning, I instantly have this dreadful feeling in my stomach. If I think about the day ahead of me, of the conflicts I'm going to have to deal with, the certain individual who has taken it upon herself to make my day as difficult as possible, and the monotony of my daily tasks as a dutiful worker bee, the pressure in my chest grows and grows... sometimes I feel like I might be crushed under the weight of the anxiety I feel when I think about my job, and the dead-end road that I am currently on.

I am in a constant state of conflict with myself, because although I am so unhappy, I know that I should be thankful to even have a job at all. I get a paycheque every other week, and for that I am so grateful... the problem is that I don't get much else... at least not anything else positive.

When I think about working for myself, I get excited. I feel hopeful and energized. I feel as though I can accomplish anything. I know... I sound like an after school special on believing in yourself... you can do it champ! *wink*

I feel bad complaining about my situation at work, because it's not *that* bad, and I feel like I should just suck it up and be grateful for what I've got... but I want something more.

Do I have it in me to take that leap?

Grace in Small Things: Part 30 of 365

2009-07-02T21:12:00.002-04:00

a very ticklish baby neice
baby belly laughs
her tiny fingers grabbing my nose, or mouth, or cheek
sunshine after a few days of dreary, rainy weather
knowing that I can sleep in tomorrow... yay for long weekends!
(my company decided to have us work yesterday, on Canada day, and instead moved the holiday day off to Friday)

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

yowch!

2009-07-02T21:02:00.000-04:00

Apparently, walking across a sidewalk and onto a lawn is too complicated for me.

Grace in Small Things: Part 29 of 365

2009-07-01T21:07:00.002-04:00

rub-on maple leaf tattoos
barbecued food as a proclamation of patriotism
the look on a child's face when playing with a sparkler
managing not to seriously injure myself, despite accidentally stepping in a hole and falling on my face... on the sidewalk... in front of an intersection full on onlookers
being able to laugh at myself

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

Grace in Small Things: Part 28 of 365

2009-06-30T20:50:00.002-04:00

yummy vegetable tempura
a good, rational debate over a really polarizing topic
a good nap
homemade guacamole
how excited the boy gets when I make my homemade guacamole

I am participating in Grace in Small Things

chartreuse

2009-06-29T22:38:00.005-04:00

I want to write... I want to write good things... strong things... inspiring things.

I have a list.

I keep it in a chartreuse coloured moleskin on my desk. The pages are lined with rows upon rows of titles... fragments of ideas... quotes and lines from songs that I find poignant, and hope will inspire me to come up with brilliant words of my own.

But I don't.

I won't say that I can't... because I know that I can. I am capable.

I don't because I am afraid... I am afraid that someone will notice, and that they will read my words and disapprove. I am afraid that "they" will think that I am some sort of phony, wannabe writer... that my words are not worthy of others eyes.

I have so many things that I would like to write about... thoughts and experiences that I would like to share... because I know that so many people are going through life much the same as I am... and there can comfort in sharing these experiences... but I am afraid.

And I am envious.

I envy those women... those bloggers... who can express themselves with such clarity... such beautiful words... who can open their experiences and thoughts up to the scrutiny of the anonymous interwebs... their words are beautiful... and inspiring...

And I pale in comparison.

...

Wow... how's that for a pity party?