behindtheax

saturday 

posted by mary j. @ 8:54 AM 0 Comments

more lake 

posted by mary j. @ 10:31 AM 0 Comments

a sunny afternoon

O.K. now it is truly the eye of autumn. The air was so crisp this morning I felt like I could break it into smaller pieces. And the trees along our street are beautiful, rich in warm colours. Walking under them as I accompanied Monica to school they rained leaves on us the whole distance. They were falling so gently and so steady, coating the ground one leaf at a time. There were yellow leaves pretending to be parking tickets stuck under windshield wipers. Red leaves pretending to be forgotten velvet cloaks draped over drainpipes, burnt orange leaves pretending to be pumpkin skins along the curbs. And then that wonderful (although slightly late) sun came out and added a shine to it all.

Yesterday afternoon, I went for this very long walk and ended up walking along the shore of Lake Ontario. I wasn’t planning on walking quite that distance but the day had turned out so warm I just kept walking. Plus I was getting to a claustrophobic point and I needed to look out over an expanse of water. The lake is not the Ocean and I feel because of this I never quite give it a fair enough shake. It is a little less than what I crave or think I need. Lakes no matter how big feel tame to me and I want an ocean to stand next too. Don’t get me wrong it’s a great lake (had to say that) and it holds a blue horizon and it sounds lovely when the waves come in and I can gather the things I need from it. – space and calm and beauty – but I can’t store these. It is fleeting and I feel detached from it. I want salt and that edge of the world feeling the Atlantic can give me. Maybe I’m just homesick.

I sat for a while wishing I had my red journal. There were several haiku like moments I wanted to try to capture. This lady on the beach had this beautiful long legged grey, greyhound and it was running full out along the shore, its sleek coat catching the autumn sun and parallel to it out on the water was a sailboat with this brilliant white sail being pushed along by a pretty good wind. For a second it appeared the greyhound and sailboat were racing. It was a nice image.

There were also lots of couples holding hands, strolling comfortably under the afternoon sun. I keep trying to figure out which ones are the new couples and which ones are the veteran couples. I use to think the ones holding hands are new but in the city I find lots of couples hold hands regardless how long they have been with one another. It was a lovely walk and I was happy to have my crappy little camera with me but the battery died after a short bit.

posted by mary j. @ 10:10 AM 0 Comments

the lake  

posted by mary j. @ 3:30 PM 0 Comments

Books and dark mornings

It was so dark this morning. The alarm clock rang, Greg pressed snooze, it rang again, he pressed snooze again and then again and it was still dark. It was only the streetlight that gave our room any definition by shining a small amount of gloss onto the between spaces of our window’s wooden blind. Even that first cup of coffee didn’t bring up the sun. I even bet if I had walked out onto the quiet leaf strewn street and yelled ally ally home free it wouldn’t have brought up the sun. She sleeps in these days, entertains us briefly and retires early. The moon this morning was full and engrossing though as it sat above the red brick buildings. I think of winter and childhood friends on these mornings- Cold icy beaches and whipping winds. It made me want to cuddle back down under the comforter until the sun showed up.

And then there was the game and having a few beer last night which makes that snooze button easier to whack. Nice to see the Red Sox win.

Now I am on my third coffee which isn’t a good idea. I want to put off everything and write this morning. Write until I have to go and pick up Monica for lunch. Both of them still come home for lunch. I don’t know why Erin wants to? It would be much easier on her if she stayed. By the time she arrives home, she eats quickly and leaves again. I think she likes coming home because it breaks up her day. She told me she is joining Choir and I'm glad because I find she has a very nice singing voice. She just finished reading the book Coraline by Neil Gaiman and she loved it. Monica is now reading, “Are you there God? It is me, Margaret.” By Judy Blume. The young girl’s Bible. I remember the impact it had on me as a ten year old. Greg is reading (not actually reading - it is an audio tape book) The fabric of the Cosmos by Brain Greene and I have finally started The Last Crossing. But I also need to find The Trouble with Islam because that is the book my neighbour’s book club is reading and I have to read it by November 21.

My thoughts are jumping all over the place. I was also trying to convince myself to sign up for nanowrimo.com. It would be fun and it does give you a fine reason to sit down and write 500+ words a day. However, the short story I am writing “With stones from her garden” has already hit 4000 words and I haven’t even got her in the garden yet. And I don’t want to put it aside and start something new. I was thinking I could try stretching it into a novel for the event but according to the rules you can’t start writing until Nov. 1st.
I will probably decide midnight on Halloween if I am going to give it a shot or not. Of course now in my three coffee induced haze I am coming up with several ideas. O.k. got to go and see what is becoming of my two sad little characters in my short story.

posted by mary j. @ 10:23 AM 0 Comments

fading colours 

posted by mary j. @ 5:50 PM 0 Comments

cleaning house

I think this is day six for dreary. I need a little sun here! However, I have caught up on several things that I had been putting off and that gives me a small sense of accomplishment, which I will take happily. My house is clean for one and if you only knew how infrequently I am able to say that. I am a major slob and this really irks my husband who at times borders on perfectionism – however, we do more or less balance each other out. I am pretty sure two perfectionists would eventually kill each other and two of me would die from some strange new bacteria that grew in their butter dish.

A few years ago when Greg and I were in San Francisco we stopped into The City Lights Bookstore (I forget the name of the street it is on but I fell totally in love with that store and that street} and he bought me the book Sweeping Changes by Gary Thorp, hoping I would discover the joy of washing dishes and dusting. It was an easy and pleasant read but I haven’t followed much of its advice yet. Except there was a time I did have a Zen like moment while removing grout from my shower but then again that could of just been the fumes.

Where am I going with this? I just think it is a nice feeling when your books are lined up properly on the books shelves, when your CDs are actually in their cases and are in nice straight rows, when your kid’s rooms look like snap shots for a Sears Catalogue, and your kitchen countertops can be seen and not only that but even gleam a little. Maybe Greg is right that there is more to housecleaning than lighting a stick of incense. Who knew?
I also made apple pies the other day and they didn’t turn out half bad. I can always tell when my crust is going to be ok if when I am rolling it out it first takes on the shape of New Brunswick.

I also did a fair amount of reading and helping with homework and a small amount of bookkeeping but very little writing. I came across a piece of fiction at the Room of One’s Own website, written by Amanda Hale called The Sin Eater. I just thought that was a brilliant piece of writing. It gave me chills. There are so many great writers and I am so proud that there are so many great Canadian writers. But at the same time when I read something that is so well done I feel tiny jabs of jealously and frustration just because the entry level to get into these journals is so friggin high. And as it should be but when I sit and try to get a story on paper and I fight with the tenses to stay where they should (pick a tense, any tense but stick to it) and I rack my brain to try to describe something simple and I realize how limited my vocabulary really is, I just find somedays this desire of mine to improve at writing overwhelming and I wonder why I don’t take up bowling instead? I am a decent bowler, with practice I could maybe join in on a league, Friday nights could be my bowling night, and I could even get my own ball. (A green one). I could be like The Big Lebowski.

Then there is that other small voice inside me that says if you really want to improve you should go back to school. It appears that entry to practice this craft begins with a University degree. That seems like a great push of faith this late in the game besides I should be thinking of University for my daughters more than myself. So I think I will just keep on, keeping on, hoping I will keep improving. I just have a great wish to imitate what I love.

posted by mary j. @ 11:12 AM 0 Comments

In the ravine 

posted by mary j. @ 7:19 PM 0 Comments

Come away threads

Wearing crowns and soft sashes
they borrow all moments
until debt piles up in the dark
they tread on the edge
just to sway on its seams
and blush dabs of sweet peach
on their cheeks

the beer is consumed
unbent from the box until
night desists with contempt
and still the lightest of laugher
erupts from the shadows
while tiny cherubs fill their tongues

acrimonious tea rests in cups
of dark stains and dishes
pile up in the sink
dust motes push out
to escape from their welt
and mascara stays thick on the lash

they borrow tears from reptilians
to dance with the doctors
to beg for diludid
to bolster the breath of each day

just to continue to pull
on that come away thread
from the edge they're
so balanced upon

posted by mary j. @ 9:20 AM 0 Comments

old green eyes 

posted by mary j. @ 9:46 AM 0 Comments

Leaves and Actors

It is still raining. Yesterday as I stepped from the bank I spotted the used book store across the street and decided I needed to look in it. The owner has books crammed in shelves to the very ceiling and boxes and piles of books in every narrow aisle. In the back is where he keeps the Canadian literature, the poetry, the classics, the- how-to books. Up front is everything else but it seems to me that fantasy and mystery out number the others. I bought an old, brown page copy of Catcher in the Rye but before that I lost complete track of time in there. A whole hour went by without me. I was busy reading the back of books, the first pages of books, the inside jackets of books before I realized I had other things to do. When I left the store the rain had soften to drizzle. The side walks were covered in wet leaves, the flower shop was displaying big baskets of rust coloured fall mums and gigantic cabbage like flowers with mauve centres, out front. The coffee shop I walked by was full of people. As I kept walking I started thinking of my husband and how he looked after his jog the night before. With the ballcap on and redden cheeks, I saw for a brief moment the boy in him that he once was.

I was in his grade six class. The only times we ever spoke was when the teacher put us in groups of six and told each group to come up with a ten minute skit for parent night. I was placed in his group. He and his friend David wrote the skit. It was a spoof on M.A.S.H. He played Klinger. I played a nurse. I asked them not to write me any words to say. They were fine with this. The night of the show, for the first few minutes it was going well but then David and Greg after getting a few laughs decided to abandon the skit for complete improv. Needless to say it went where a grade six class shouldn’t of took it. I was in the back of the stage hiding when I was told by the teacher to go up front and stop them , to come up with something to end the skit. I was horrified that I had to this. I think she had to literally push me forward. I followed Greg around the stage for a while trying to speak to him but he was too busy waddling around as a very pregnant Klinger. I forget how it ended. Not well.

posted by mary j. @ 9:26 AM 0 Comments

overcast

The colour grey is filling in the entire sky. As I look out my window I can see the yellowing leaves of my elm pressing into it. I think if I was able to pull those top branches forward I would be able to see an indentation. It is raining lightly. I got up early and so I was able to write for a few hours this morning and I feel good about that but now I can't shake that fuzzy, heavy, just woke up feeling that I get sometimes from writing. I need to get my act together and get a few things done around here but first I need a walk. And later I am going to make turkey soup with the carcass of that poor flighless bird that is crammed in my fridge.

posted by mary j. @ 10:26 AM 0 Comments

My husband picked a pumpkin 

posted by mary j. @ 3:36 PM 0 Comments

Wednesday

A neighbour of mine has kindly asked me if I wanted to join her book club and I said yes but now I wish I had said no. Not that I don't think it would be fun sharing thoughts on a book with a group but I'm extremely shy and I know I won't say anything, contribute anything to their group discussions. So I am not sure what value added I would be to them. But at the same time I know I should be pushing myself to socialize more. It just seems that I spend alot of time with my children or husband or doing activities that don't require other people. I jog alone, I read alot, I write, I even work from home now. I always avoided people to some extent because of my shyness but now it seems to me that I am becoming a bit of a recluse. I think that is why I took to blogging. It's a way to communciate without socializing. It's great that way except when I feel the need to leave a comment on someone's site, it still takes a great deal of procastination and self doubt just to say something.

When I was studying nursing I once had an instuctor tell me my shyness was pathetic.
When I started grade one, my sister seeing me standing in the schoolyard came over and introduced herself. Years later, she told me that seeing me standing there out of context from the house and family it dawned on her that she didn’t know who I was.

I get my hair cut once a year just because I am so uncomfortable making small talk with the stylist. I can't handle malls. There were several attempts on my part to join a gym but I couldn't go through with it. There are days when I am dying for female companionship or conversation and on those days I try to go to the school yard early to pick up my daughter, just so I can sit at an empty picnic table. If I'm the first one at the picnic table, great, because I know other moms will come and join me. However if I go to the school on time than there is a good chance the moms will already be sitting about in conversation and I can't approach them because I feel like I am intruding. Weird eh! my kids are a little shy at times but they are more like their Dad, which I am very glad for.

I haven't told my family back east about this blog yet because I still sort of feel weird about it. At first, I thought it was one of the reasons why I should start a blog - to keep them updated on my life here in Toronto, have them drop me comments from time to time but half of them are as shy as I am so I know they won't be using the comment box.

Anyway the bookclub? I guess it might do me good.
You'll notice many spelling mistakes in my entries because I can't spell and the spell check on this site is not worth the aggravation. (Did I spell aggravation right?)

posted by mary j. @ 1:45 PM 0 Comments

orange 

posted by mary j. @ 4:16 PM 0 Comments

Motivational Speaker

I woke up this morning with Matt Foley in my head, yelling “La De Freaking Da .. So you think you’re Bill Shakespeare? Well I am here to tell ya as you go forward in life you're not going to amount to JACK SQUAT. - eating a steady diet of government cheese and living in a van down by the river.”

I think it is the beginning of a fine day when you wake up with Chris Farley in your head regardless of his message and I don’t think he is going to leave any time soon. “Dad, I wish you would just keep your big trap shut.”

posted by mary j. @ 9:39 AM 0 Comments

Autumn Rose

She saves her best blooms for this month. Frost only makes her
more determined. Just wait.

posted by mary j. @ 5:05 PM 0 Comments

October 

posted by mary j. @ 10:18 AM 0 Comments

my sweater

It is cold this morning. Summer fades, dissolving away in all those expanding morning molecules. I pulled out a few sweaters from where they were stored in the basement, shoved into black garbage bags, labeled accordingly winter. I found my dark green sweater that my husband had giving me when I was pregnant with Erin. It was my favourite sweater for the past twelve years. I came up out of the basement with it on and Greg said. “Would you throw that out already.” It really is mainly just a lot of green thread now with a couple of buttons but I hate to throw it out. There are so many memories associated with it like regurgitated breast milk on wool, pushing a double stroller up and down the boardwalk on cool fall afternoons, sitting on a park bench in the playground while a 15 month old Monica kept toddling over to me with her hands full of leaves, as an offering, dropping them in my lap just to swivel not so gracefully around to go back for another batch, those three in the morning quiet walks to the lab down the cold corridors at the hospital, sitting in the kindergarten yard watching Erin slide repeatedly down the yellow spiral slide, Halloween nights, Christmas mornings, tobogging, winter evenings cuddled on the couch watching videos , road trips back home for Christmas, writing, standing on a frozen beach watching Annie run up and down it, walking the girls to dance lessons on Thursday evenings. Yah, it's a good sweater. It holds a lot of warm memories. I think I will keep it just one more winter.

posted by mary j. @ 9:48 AM 0 Comments

More fluff 

posted by mary j. @ 1:22 PM 0 Comments