behindtheax

2009-06-04T09:19:00.002-04:00

Jogged yesterday morning with the dogs. It felt so good getting up at 5:30 and jogging towards the rising sun. Came home, showered, sat down at the table convinced that the jog would wake me enough to write something decent. Stared at the page for a few minutes and then went up stairs and took a nap.

Looking forward to watching Mine that Bird race in the Belmont Sunday.

Erin and Monica are almost finished with regular scheduled school. They're not looking forward to exam week.

A story of mine is up at Gemini-Magazine.

2009-05-29T15:24:00.000-04:00

So, then that happened.

2009-05-19T13:14:00.002-04:00

It is a beautiful day here. Cool and sunny. Spending a lot of time in the garden these days. I have not been reading as much as I would like but I read Roberto Bolano’s 2666 –I was just totally blown away by his prose and his characters. Difficult subject matter but unbelievably well told/ expressed. I finished it in February and I still think about it.

Monica and Erin are great. Greg is still working twelve-hour days. It is a great product and I’m proud of him. The dogs are healthy and happy but Lucky went missing last September. We searched and did the poster thing but she never returned. I miss that friggin cat. Every time I hear a cat meowing, I go running to the door wondering if she finally decided to come back to us.

I’m still writing.

For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business. ~T.S. Eliot

Snowy day

2007-12-16T15:52:00.000-05:00

Stopping by

2007-11-13T16:40:00.000-05:00

Been a long while since I wrote here. I wish I had lots to report but the same old, same old. Greg is up to all kinds of interesting things but I don’t know his work well enough to speak of his plans.

Daughters, dogs, cat, degu and even the fish are doing fine.

Best recent reads have been “thirteen moons,” by Charles Frazier, "The Road," by Cormac McCarthy and "Out Stealing Horses," by Per Petteron. I read others but these were my favourites. Oh and I really enjoyed the last Harry Potter. Reading "Water for Elephants," by Sara Gruen at the present.

Recent music I really like: Bruce Springsteen’s Magic and Radiohead’s “In Rainbows”.

And best recent movie was “Control.”

Carry on. Take care.

“Charley concluded his hunting story by saying that until this night by the campfire with the tobacco smoke and brown whiskey, he had not spoken a word about his lost bear to any of his descendants but only whispered about it to Nancy the night of his return as they lay on their bed of hemlock boughs, and she held him and brushed his face with the big knuckles of her fingers and told him that he had tried but failed and sometimes that is all the victory we are allotted.” Charles Frazier, thirteen moons

2007-06-10T20:17:00.000-04:00

Girls now have less than two weeks of school. Erin is writing exams. Monica is getting ready to go to Quebec City for a week with her class. Greg is in San Francisco until Friday. It was such a beautiful day here. Just trying to get a few things organized for our trip back east. I am getting very excited. Haven't been home in two years.

2007-05-28T20:56:00.000-04:00

fence

2007-05-22T08:05:00.000-04:00

Greg and I built a picket fence between our patio and our back yard to keep the dogs out – we just can’t keep them from digging and I want a garden this year and to reseed back there. As you can see the dogs are not happy. No, not happy at all. This was the first fence we ever built and there was some trial and error but once we figured things out, it was quite fun and gave me a feeling of accomplishment.

I was in a bookstore the other day and came home with

We are all Welcome here – Elizabeth Berg
Back Roads – Tawni O’Dell
Everything’s Eventual – Stephen King

Good back yard early evening reading.

Cherry blossom

2007-05-16T15:47:00.000-04:00

spring

2007-04-08T09:46:00.000-04:00

Nine O’clock on an Easter morning and my children are still sleeping. The Easter egg hunt and egg painting days are long gone. Which is fine for me. No, I’m going to miss it a little bit. I have blueberries in the fridge so I think I will make blueberry pancakes and bacon and scrambled eggs. My mom use to always make these delicious hot cross buns but the recipes I tried, or the store bought ones are not the kind she made, so I don’t do the hot cross bun thing. The kids don’t like them anyway. I don’t do the church thing anymore either – which makes me feel a little guilty --- especially when talking to my Dad.

Cold. I need some spring now. We watched a lot of TV last night. The hockey game – they may still be in the playoffs? I am not sure if the Islanders have to win or lose today, for us to get that spot but I know they need to do something. We watched Pursuit of Happiness (I liked it) He reminded me of Greg – all or nothing sort of guy. And Blood Diamond – it was worth watching too.

I sent out a few stories, received a few rejections. One note said, “Well received but…” So, I was happy about that. And Mdialogue is beginning to get some press and some visitors, so that’s all good – He worked so hard on this –

Anyhow, must make pancakes. And then get the ham ready. I’m making a sweet potatoe casserole to go with it. Greg’s brother is coming by to have supper with us.

Have a happy one.

2007-03-27T13:37:00.000-04:00

Wish I had something to report – soon, hopefully soon.

The kids are great, the dogs are great – well Cinnamon got all possessive over a bit of kibble a month ago and bit Bow just above the eye –it was a trip to the vet but she is fine. Left a bit of a scar.

I have been working more and more for Greg. Still writing stories. Started jogging again after a bit of an absence. And that’s about it.

This is Mon. Erin refuses to be photographed

2007-02-21T16:51:00.000-05:00

there is a bit of a thaw going on. the sun is beautiful. my kitchen geraniums are happy

never mind

2007-02-19T09:04:00.000-05:00

I can feel a rave coming on. I’m going to let myself go and just keep it in my private journal if it gets too much to post. Greg is safe in NY. Called me a few times. I got the work I was doing for him done and client is happy. The mall trip was fun. I love my kids. We made a cake Friday night because we were bored and had tacos and salad for supper. I watched The Illusionist. I liked it. They had a friend over and I could hear them laughing most of the evening away in Monica’s bedroom. It was a nice weekend. And because Greg wasn’t here, I could crack open the window in our bedroom and let in all that fresh air to sleep in, and have the dogs up on the bed with me – until Bow growled at Cinnamon and Cinnamon got down, and then Bow kept circling and scratching at my sheets trying to get comfortable until I growled at her and she got down. Then I fell asleep and dreamed crazy dreams. They were triggered from the phone call from my sister. She had called Friday evening before heading off to Dad’s banquet thing, and she was crying. And she talked to me for a long time about how difficult things are with the divorce and how slow everything is progressing, and I felt just so far away and didn’t know what advice to offer her. We talked for a fair amount of time and she said I was helpful and apologized for talking my ear off, and after she hung up I was a little confused because my spirits were up, and I couldn’t understand how that could be after listening to my distraught sister. But then I realized it was just having that connection with home for a whole forty minutes. I know that sounds selfish, but I miss her and the family, and am happy when they reach out regardless what the reason. There was always this “Out of sight, out of mind,’ mentality with them – and that is only because there are so many of us that one can easily get misplaced. And I was always an observer in my family anyway. Not an actual participant so I didn’t really make that much of a dent when I left. Like, I have five brothers and if one called me right now, I would eat the cat. Mind you I don’t call them either. But still it makes me sad that a whole lifetime is slowly going by and we said so little to each other.

I think it is why I conquer up the red truck so much in my head. Actually it was a number of red trucks. The first vehicle I ever remembered my family owning was a red truck, and in my teen years, it was the big Ford super cab (that dad had for work) that I learned to drive in, and then my brother bought a red truck (GMC I think) and even at one point Greg had a small red truck (Toyota) And I guess I thought some day I would also have a red truck – If I own a red truck therefore I am, sort of philosophy. Once I had that truck I would cease being an observer and become an actual participant. But the thing is I never bought a red truck.

The last time I drove a red truck I was coming back from visiting my sister (back home). She lives about fifteen minutes out of town and I had pulled into a gas station to fill it up. It was Andy’s red truck and it was pretty beat up by that point. And it was dusk and the light from the pumps encapsulated me and the truck and the moths and mosquitoes and the quiet of that country road and I remember feeling – this is me. It was a point in my life when the city was getting way too much for me and I ached to be home on the river again. Now, every time I get homesick, that red truck pops into my head. William’s has his wheelbarrow and Kane his sled. I have a beat up red truck – (although i forget what they symbolize? Regret? Lost Innocence?

2007-02-17T19:46:00.000-05:00

Snow Dogs

2007-02-16T08:51:00.000-05:00

Greg is in NY, finally, after two of his flights were cancelled. Girls got a day off, so I’m off to a mall with them. Oh my Gosh, I’m restless. Last night I couldn’t sleep and for half the night I had Fall Out Boy’s line, “this ain’t a scene it’s a GD Arm’s race,” going through my head repeatedly, driving me practically insane. And then that morphed into quick flashes of everything in my life that ever made me shrink a bit, and I finally ended up sitting in the kitchen staring out at the back yard again. Weird –

My father is accepting an award this weekend. It is my hometown’s sport hall of fame award, along with a banquet. He is happy and nervous. I hope it all goes well for him. I almost went back for it but it co- insides with Greg’s trip to NY. Anyway, I am going home for a long stretch this summer. Just not sure what to do with the dogs. I want to take them but they are a handful – which reminds me of an incident that happened on Wednesday, after we got dumped on by a lot of the white stuff – I was taking them out for their morning walk when they spotted Greg walking up ahead. (He had decided to take public transit that morning and was walking to the bus stop) and they decided they were going to catch up to him, and so started pulling so hard that I had to run to keep up with them. If I had lost my footing they would have just pulled me through the snow like a sled. And I’m yelling to Greg to stop but of course he has his tunes in his ears. I could not get them under control and it didn’t help that my arms were sore from shoveling – It was kind of comical.
They are very strong – and at times willful. I am just getting a little nervous about a trip back east with them – I know they would love it – the water and wood but I still need to think this through.

2007-02-13T09:46:00.000-05:00

It weird how I want to drive the red truck today. I want that ample space between thigh and steering wheel. The rip in the seat that I always caught my purse on. The smell of Ben’s hamburgers, grass seed and old spice. The standard steering and standard brakes. Some days that red truck haunts me more than I would like.

We are supposed to get a lot of snow starting around noon. I am taking Monica for a Drs. Appointment to check on her cough that won’t quit. Although last night she didn’t cough. Greg thinks it’s the dogs. Probably is. They have been shedding so much lately. Which is weird – you would think they would wait til the spring. I think maybe it is the routine of being out in the cold for a few hours and then into the warmth of the house. Anyway, they are not allowed in her room anymore and we got a small air purifier for her room, hoping that will help. Greg is off to New York this weekend. The girls have Friday off so I promised them a trip to the mall. Egad.

I usually try to ignore the lives of celebrities and stuff but I found the death of Anna Nicole Smith really bothered me. Maybe because she had lost her son only months ago and had a new baby, and then those who are fighting for the money, I mean baby. And the way the media was always at her – are we not just one big global playground full of bullies? Where the hell is the teacher who is suppose to be supervising us? We should never be left to our own devices. It makes me think about that short story "The Lottery,". Who shall we throw our stones at now?

Reading

2007-02-12T09:28:00.000-05:00

I’m now reading Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. Yes, the subject matter is a little disturbing, but he is an incredible, incredible writer. It is hard to put down. Gardner had mentioned Nabokov quite often in “On Becoming a Novelist,” and I wasn’t at all familiar with his name. Yes, I know. But in my defense – I was too busy reading Jackie Collins, Sidney Sheldon, Stephen King and countless others in my twenties. And in my thirties I fell in love with long epic type fantasies and anything Canadian and anything Oprah selected. So, it has only been the last five years or so that I have started to actively search for the best of the best. Not that I haven’t stumbled upon many amazing novels on my own. Like when I first took Margaret Lawrence’s Stone Angel down from the library shelf and decided to read it. She is one of my top ten favourites now. In my early twenties though, I thought there was no greater writer than Stephen King. He took me to places exactly where I wanted to go. The more bizarre the better. I lived “The Stand” for a week - and Larry McMurtry’s, “Lonesome Dove.” Did the same for me. I won’t be the one to try to diminish the merit of any writer, or nor would I go back and unread any book I ever read, but at this point, my enjoyment aside, I want to know what separates the truly good books from the rest of the pack.

The sun is out today and I have so much on my to do list. yesterday i was down and found myself standing looking out the back window in the early morning hours - but what a difference a day makes.

Moon loaded with morning
All chambers
Two black squirrels
Pause
On the power lines
One two
They scamper across
Thin tails flicking
branches grappling
a loose sky
scraping away grey
dirtying the snow
this day begins dark
And on my ring finger
A circle of red
a faint itch

old books

2007-02-01T13:07:00.000-05:00

I am reading, “ On Becoming a Novelist,” by John Gardner and I’m finding it fascinating. One of his suggestions was to type out a masterpiece such as James Joyce’s “The Dead,” and so I took “Dubliners” from my bookshelf, opened it to the last story and began to type. I typed three thousand words until my fingers grew tired. I will finish it, and I think I might go onto to typing out “The Boat,” by Alistair Macleod next. Why? Because I think it might help. It is a different feeling than just reading it. When I read it I’m consumed by the story, when I type it I’m consumed by the words, by the structure. I think it is a very good exercise. I figure most already know this exercise but for me it is new.

I love the smell of old books. My copy of Joyce’s “Dubliners”, I bought at a used bookstore a few years back. Its original price was 50c. I bought if for $2.70. It is a 1957 edition from Penguin Books. The pages have aged to the colour of buckskin, spreading to a darker shade along the borders.

If I put my face inside the pages and breathe deep, I am immediately transported back to my parent’s paperback collection, the part of it that they kept in the garage’s loft in an old trunk. It also reminds me of the grocery man who would deliver groceries to our door. He had one of those wide wallets that was attached to his pants by a chain. The milkman came every day but the grocery man only came once a week, and there was always much excitement. And I remember that same smell clung to the grocery man, like it does to old books.

And now for something completely different

2007-01-25T18:08:00.000-05:00

No, actually it is the same old, same old

First of all a quote from the Writer’s almanac today.

"So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. But to sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treachery."
-- Virginia Woolf

I’m thinking if she was alive this day and age she might have used something other than sleeve but who’s to say what would of become of Virginia if she was born in the here and now.

You know what I want? I want Tom Wait’s to make a musical set in the early 50’s full of his characters. Yes, that is what I want. I want to see Peoria Johnson, Dudlow Joe, Satchel Puddin and of course Birdy Joe Hoaks. I want to follow them along a railroad track, I want to sit around a campfire with them, I want to see them break out of the jailhouse and fall in love. I want to see them lost to the drink and to their own despairs.
I think I been listening to his CD too much. I have his characters filling my head.

He always has the greatest lines but today I like this one

“The devil dances inside empty pockets”

still waiting for something amazing to happen

2007-01-22T15:31:00.000-05:00

Off to the grocery store. I got a lot done today (well for me)

I sometimes wonder what character I could use to describe myself, and the only one who comes to mind is the Big Lebowski.

"If he was a lazy man, and the Dude was most certainly that."

My husband watches that movie at least five times a year. He spends a fair amount of his life just randomly quoting from it. For example he never say "What the f@*%" without ending it with "Donny." I grew up with mom shouting, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph" whenever she got angry but my kids, they get Donny. If I pause to think on that - It frightens me.

because I had this blog for two and half years

2007-01-16T18:35:00.000-05:00

and i never showed you who we were. This was taken by a friend on New Years Eve.

january sun

2007-01-08T07:58:00.000-05:00

2007-01-02T18:06:00.000-05:00

Happy 2007.
It's very mild here. Tree is down and Christmas is packed away for another year. We had a nice holiday. Hope you did too. I'm slowly closing up shop here at Behindtheax. I will still put up an entry once in awhile when/if something truly amazing happens in my life :) and I will always visit my favourite blogs.

shopping

2006-12-06T09:21:00.000-05:00

I need to take the dogs for a walk in a few minutes. Thought I would write a blurb first. Not that I have much to say. It is cold here. Not terribly but you need to bundle up. This evening we have Monica’s parent/teacher interview. She did well this term, so it will be a quick interview. Last week we visited Erin’s teachers. Her English teacher described her as creative – (I love that word). She needs more confidence though. If we could only manufacture that. At the moment I am reading “The Girls” by Lori Lansens. I am enjoying it. It is a quick read, should be finished tonight or tomorrow night. Things here are progressing nicely towards Christmas. Well, I don’t have my parcel out to my dad yet but by Monday for sure. We are visiting friends on Friday night, going to see the Nutcracker on Saturday and hopefully finding a tree (out in the country, cut your own) on Sunday. Maybe I will head out to the malls/stores on Friday afternoon? Did I ever mention that I hate shopping. Probably a hundred times. The girls are showing me pictures and describing things to me in detail. They fear to see me go off without them – they both think I have the worst taste when it comes to fashion. They’re right too. And makeup and accessories. I don’t wear makeup so half the time I have no idea what they’re talking about when they mention a specific eye shadow or certain type of mascara. Gosh help me if I get the wrong tube/ wrong colour. It is all nerve wracking I tell you. I miss those days when they were happy with a Furbie.

The barn boots

2006-12-01T17:05:00.000-05:00

December 8th approaches again.. Can’t forget. Can’t forget. I hate that it only comes down to memories now and no matter how hard I try to make these memories tangible they’ll never be. In fact they just keep fading, they crumple up at the corners, they break into smaller pieces until I don’t know what piece belongs where. My sister is only random thoughts and smiling photographs and it pisses me off. And no matter how much I try to get her down on paper, I can never do her justice. Can’t make her whole again. I keep thinking of the barn boots. I keep thinking of Momma Cat and the clumps of sticky barley toys we would buy and take to the barn in our wish to celebrate a little portion of our Christmas there. Barley Toys were probably the cheapest candy you could buy in bulk. A big bag would cost less than a dollar and if they got damp at all they would congeal into one big lump that was almost impossiable to break apart again.

Now, it might have been simply an extremely cold winter that year but my sister and I always blamed our incredible discomfort that we endured solely on the barn boots, leaving nature pretty much blameless.

I remember our mom handing them to us along with a bag of potato peelings as we stood in the cold porch. At home we ate potatoes almost every day and being that there were thirteen of us, there was always plenty of potatoes peelings and carrot shavings or turnip tops that we would take with us to the barns to give to our ponies.

Mom announced that we could no longer wear the boots we wore to school to the barn and that is why she went out and purchased us these separate barn ones. I think, possiably, she might have received a call from the school informing her that our footwear was stinking up the hallway, which I can only imagine they did, especially once the warmth of the indoors got at all that frozen horse manure in the cracks and crevices between heel and soul.
We thanked our mom and took the new boots, each a pair. They were probably the ugliest boots we ever laid eyes on and we both wondered what reduced for quick sale bin mom must of pulled them from? First of all they were too big on our feet. They were shiny black with a zipper that ran up the middle area in the place that usually housed a tongue. They had a small amount of orange faux fur that pretended to fill the inner of the boot but only went about an inch and a half into it. There wasn’t a tread to be found on them and so the first sign of ice we ended up on our backs each and every time. They weren’t rubber but a kind of bumpy plastic that housed not one ounce of insulation and they only went to a height slightly above our ankles. I swear to God we would have been better off wearing flip flops that winter.

That first trip to the barn wearing them was fine. It was a nice day and we swung the bags of potato peelings in between us while we walked through the snowy field, laughing at our ugly new footwear. The barn, where we boarded the ponies, was a twenty minute stroll, through one field, across the highway and through another long field. I am still amazed when I visit home and see that huge field we use to trek through each and every day now reduced to a subdivision, full of houses and roads with nametags. People’s bathrooms, kitchens, dens, garages, and back yard pools now take up the space that once belonged to Sandy and I. And we did deserve ownership, even if it was only to the field itself, because we knew it best. We were often the first ones to cut paths through its thigh deep snow, first ones to make snow angels on each side of that path, first ones to spot green emerging in the spring and we often raced our ponies full out through it or chased them around it when they got loose or threw us off. I remember that field so well and I hope that it still remembers us. That it keeps a fossilize record of our childhood somewhere within its bedrock.
Anyway, back to the barn boots. By the end of that winter we knew them too. They were very evil boots, plain and simple. They wouldn’t even let us keep our socks on. While we walked the plastic sides would push against our socks, pushing them down off our ankles, pushing them over our heels and past our arch until our socks always ended up between that ample space between the tips of our toes and the toe of our boot. They also gave us cherry red rings around the tops of our ankles were their edges constantly rubbed against our skin, These rings would crust over and itch like crazy and I swear those marks didn’t fade until the first week of July. These boots instead of repelling the snow and the wet, welcomed it, encouraged it to enter through the gaps at the top, to slide over our red ankles and pool beneath our arches. Our toes would get so numb that we hated to warm them when we got home, knowing they would go from unpleasantly numb to all out stinging.

My sister, even in our twenties would sometimes bring up the barn boots as if they were old enemies, which would make me laugh. Now I kinda look back at them with fondness, knowing I shared the experience of the barn boots with her. I wasn’t her twin and can’t possibly compete with the strength of their relationship but still I’ll never forget that Sandy and I once withstood a long, cold winter in identical boots. It is probably the only year that I can come close to saying, I stood in her shoes.

oh well

2006-11-27T20:13:00.000-05:00

I think I’m back on track now. House is clean. Sparkly. My efforts will last approximately twelve hours, somewhat less if the dogs decides to spend more time this evening digging their trench in the back yard. I am not quite sure what they are preparing for, possiably an all out squirrel invasion. Anyway, looks like they’re pretty much ready for anything that comes over that back fence.

Got another rejection. Yummy – love em. Just love em. Squash my dreams why don’t you - you, you word bastards you --- no - - It was kind. He took the time to point out everything that didn’t work and to mention my floating commas and you know what - I don’t even know what a floating comma is. Are they like helium filled commas? I’ll look that one up tomorrow. I do know I have a major problem with commas. I just shove them in, here, there and everywhere. Is there a Comma Police? OK I know you don’t think that was funny but when I just thought of that – I thought Ha that’s funny. Comma police arrest this girl she buzzes like a fridge – well I better stop, while I am still willing to post this.

2006-11-26T09:06:00.000-05:00

lost

2006-11-25T10:35:00.000-05:00

Woke me up to a cardinal bird – Tom Waits (Lost at the Bottom of the World)

I love that. I couldn’t wait for Christmas. I got Orphans – Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards.
3 discs. It is excellent. I lost the last couple of days to a restless, insecure, soul searching, wishing I was on a chicken farm making music kind of breakdown – which would be difficult considering I don’t know music beyond what a treble clef looks like. Anyway, I’ll just chuck it up for a false start and begin again. ON Your Mark, get set, GO!

O.K., maybe not, I think I just hurt my ankle. Best to wait til tomorrow to start. Better just pour myself another cup of coffee, think a little longer on the story in my head. Mr. Waits has been giving me some inspiration for one of my characters in a new short story I started “Star Attraction”.

Just listened to Nirvana on the bawlers disc. Wow, lovely – one of his speaking stories. He may be one of my favourite story tellers.- - he has the best lines, the best story telling voice.

But serious, I got to start my day. It is 10:04 – still need to shower, on my third cup of coffee, hadn’t lay eyes on the girls yet, only got the dogs as far as the back yard – really I might need the booster cables for this one.

Frost

2006-11-23T09:27:00.000-05:00

A light coat of frost covers all. I will bundle up in a few minutes and take the dogs to the park. Let them run about while I enjoy the conversations of the regulars that go there. My social interaction for the day. Yesterday, besides my jog and grocery shopping, I did nothing. I read a little, napped, and made myself about four cups of tea, which I enjoyed with peanut butter and jam crackers. I thought about the east coast while I sipped at my tea. How I love that stretch of shore between Kouchibouguac and Baie -Ste – Anne. I wonder what it must feel to those who own homes along that stretch? Standing on their back porches in the early evening or walking to their cars early morning as they head off to work, always with the cold air coming off the water at them, always with all that open space, all that ocean all the way to the horizon, at their backs. Some days I feel home like a toothache.

Yesterday, I jogged while listening to the Killers “Sam’s Town.” It is a great album to jog to. The dogs were well behaved and we went about 5 km. the morning was bright; the sun felt wonderful, shadows of myself and the dogs filling up the sidewalk. One home we past had a line of white sheets on their cloth line. The soft scent of soap, the sunshine and cool air drifted from them and the combination smelled lovely. Every time I jog this neighbourhood I feel like I owe it my appreciation more.

This picture of the sheep I took at the Royal Winter fair. The girls and I went a few Fridays ago – I had trouble with my camera that day. Tried to do things manually and frigged up all the settings. This little guy was patient with me though

Lists

2006-11-21T11:27:00.000-05:00

This is the time of year I sit myself down and make lists. I know I have a fair amount of things I need/wish to accomplish before the holidays and so instead of buckling right down and getting things done, I rather make lists of the things to be done. Some may call it organization; I call it a stalling tactic.

On my immediate list
Wash my dogs (today for sure)
Make an appointment for their annual vet check up (poor Lucky is due too but I am going to save hers until after the holidays, simply because she’s not in the budget this month)
Finish up about another three hours of accounting ( my mistakes) (today for sure)
Finish up a small power point and a small page layout job I’m doing (for the same person) (Tomorrow)
Laundry (today for sure, they are beginning to complain about the lack of clean clothes here)

On my before Christmas list
Make a short movie of Erin and Monica from the ton of video we collected over the years, put it on mdialogue and send it out to family members (mainly as a gift to the grandparents) and for me to see if I can figure out how to edit all that film and of course to show off Greg’s application. Some of our friends have made short movies and sent invitations for us to view and they were well done. A friend from Germany made a beautiful short film about her dog and our friends here made a sweet short film of their daughter’s first bike ride. I was so impressed I want to try it.
Gift shopping for my family back east and send out the parcels before the second week of December.
Gift shop for the girls and Greg
I also need to find a nice white shirt to go with my dress slacks because we are invited to the Nutcracker.
Of course I need to clean the house – not just the day-to-day stuff but also the fridge, stove, cupboards. I would love to put another coat of white on the baseboards – I should do that soon
And I can’t forsake my writing or my jogging and I want to spend at least two days baking this year – bread, cookies, a cake, muffins ---

I know this doesn’t look like a big list but I’m already feeling anxious because what usually takes most people a week to do, takes me about a month. I blame it on my contemplative nature or the fact that I’m lazy to the bone. (either/or)

Anyway, those dogs aren’t going to wash themselves, so I best stop now. I bought some all-natural lilac scented dog shampoo for them. I know they won’t appreciate it though, much preferring the scent of dead, decaying things they find in the Quarry to roll around in.

Tom

2006-11-19T17:22:00.000-05:00

I Know what I'm asking Greg to get me for Christmas.

A few of the tracks are at the bottom of the page.

the tree

2006-11-15T09:32:00.000-05:00

The tree outside my window still has two hundred or so dried copper leaves hanging from its limbs. It will take another strong wind to shake them free. The neighbours across the street have moved out. She was nice, I will miss her although I am sure I will she her around from time to time. Erin and Monica’s first term in school is almost over. Term marks are trickling in on some of the subjects. They are both doing well. Monica is a going concern these days. She has many friends, lots of invites, a pretty steady babysitting job, yoga on Fridays, and puts tons of effort into her school work. Science, math and French are her strong areas. She also does very well in computer (these strengths are all from her Dad). Erin is not so go, go , go – she’s shy, spends a lot of time in her room listening to music, learning the songs, she starts her projects the night before they are due and she writes poetry that she rarely shows to anyone. They are opposites and wonderful.

I won a book last week. The Android’s Dream by John Scalzi. I was pleased about that and the biggest thing I did last week was join an online writer’s workshop – Critters. I was thinking about doing it for a long time but only just got the nerve up. It is a well-run site, I believe. If I critique one story a week than I think I can get a story of mine critique probably once a month – depends how many stories are up. Anyway, I took about two hours trying to critique the very first story they sent me and only wrote 300 words. It is so hard to critique someone else’s work. I kept trying to tell myself that I was just a reader stating what I liked and didn’t like. Because when I started thinking of myself as a writer too, I started getting insecure – like who am I too be critiquing this person’s work? I think it will get easier though. I’m hoping.

Another small accomplishment is I finally made it up The Hill on my jog. There is this hill I always avoid because it is just too bloody steep but Wednesday I tried and got to the top. Felt a little like Rocky until the day after when I was so sore I regretted doing it.

As I was looking out the window at my tree and thinking about something to write, I remember a poem I wrote last January. Thought I would post it.

Every year it gets bigger
The tree in the front yard
Elm of yellow leaf, of winter bare branch
The hydro men come by sometimes to
cut the arms
That might some day lean on the wires
And every year it reminds me
I’m from away.
When I arrived it was a sapling, almost straight
My fingertips could touch when I held
It’s slim neck in a choker’s grip.
It belonged more than i
to a postage stamp yard
In front of a busy street
But that is only because
it knows patience
Someday I’ll climb its branches
Once it reaches a certain point of sky,
when its trunk is layered thick with seasons
today however
from the January window of my bedroom
I will count each limb of bronze
Each wiry sinewy pinnacle
And the five withered copper pipe leaves
That hang tight
Determined to last the winter

2006-11-13T09:56:00.000-05:00

My dilemma this morning is

2006-11-06T08:55:00.000-05:00

I received two emails almost simultaneously. One was from friends who lost their female beagle dog this week to advanced age. They loved her so much and are of course devastated over this loss. They are the most amazing dog people.
The email was titled sad news and the first line contained the word sweet and they had attached a picture of her.
The next email was from the animal rescue people we received our dogs from and the title of it was - sweet dog urgently needs foster home –they also attached a picture. Long ears, soulful eyes staring at me. It is a nine month old beagle mix (mainly beagle) and I am thinking this is too uncanny not to forward this email to our friends but then I can’t because I feel it might be too insensitive, they just lost their dog and are still grieving -- what to do? Tell me it's just coincidence and not some devine plan where I am being used as a conduit and I’ll be happy with that.

Every week there's a thursday

2006-11-02T09:17:00.000-05:00

Need to jog but every morning now I try hard to come up with excuses not to. My ipod is not charged, too windy, raining, couldn’t fall to sleep last late, how can I jog with seven thousand bite size chocolate bars in my stomach, the holidays are just around the corner maybe I should start up when they are over – Sad really because I know once I get out there I’ll actually enjoy it - and I can’t speak for Bow because she’s a bit of a strange girl but I know Cinnamon enjoys our jogs.

I sat down looking for a semi professional ezine to send my vampire story to but I always get a little intimated and depressed looking for markets. Plus it is still too long.

So I ended up deciding to let my story stew a little longer.

Now I must jog

last week

2006-10-31T09:37:00.000-05:00

I found this story in an ezine called Exquisite Death – a dark tale for Halloween. I loved the lyrical repetitiveness of it.

Greg and I went to see “Running with Scissors” – I found it funny/ disturbing. Parts of it actually reminded me of a three-year period after my mother’s death – I forgot the exact line in the movie but I think it was something like, “we all need rules, without them there are just too many surprises.” I liked Jill Clayburn’s character.

I enjoyed last week. Wrote over five thousand words on my Fantasy – it is starting to feel like a real to goodness book. I keep wanting to sit down with a pencil and paper and start sketching a map of their world. Naming the rivers, towns, cities, mountain ranges, seas, etc. I think it might make this world more real to me if it has its own map. It was not just the writing that I loved about last week but the unhindered ease of how my days progressed afterwards. Doing a bit of bookkeeping, baking, putting around the yard, filling in holes (yes, they just keep digging) raking the leaves, bringing in my germaniums, tossing the Frisbee to the dogs, the girls coming in after school wanting to talk to me about their school day, while we sat at the table and ate cinnamon rolls. Some weeks appear so unruffled that I actually feel small within them. Maybe that’s how it should be.

Mdialogue was tweaked a little more. To try it out, it now only requires a password and an email address.

dad

2006-10-25T14:06:00.000-04:00

The furnace kicked in this morning for the first time. Woke up to a warm house. Wandered down stairs to let the dogs out and stood by the kitchen window for a few minutes looking out at all the patterns of dissipating grey as night slowly evaporated in front of me. My dad called yesterday and talked to me for a few minutes. It’s quite rare when he does that but it is getting less so. How do I explain my dad? The athlete I guess? He used to box in his early years. Also played hockey back then and was a pitcher for my hometown’s baseball team for years. (Left-handed). There are lots of old newspaper clippings that mention him that he saved from the sport’s section of our local newspaper. Sometimes they referred to him as Lefty. Had his own landscaping company (four men and a tractor) and plowed snow in the winters. Wore jeans his entire life, still does. Loves the birds that come to his bird feeders. Walks every day with his dog, Jack. He was the seventh son of the seventh son, which makes me laugh thinking about the White Stripe's song. - Dad would often remind us of this, making it sound like it gave him special powers or something. He loved the Johnny Carson show but hated Ed MacMan with a passion that never quite made sense to us. He spent a lot of energy complaining about that guy – I believed it irked him that someone could make money by just chuckling occasionally on cue. When I first moved here I wrote a lot of journal entries about my Dad – they weren’t always positive entries but now I realize he did the best he could for who he was. –I am not saying our family didn’t have its dysfunctional moments but then again I truly believe you can fit the number of completely functional families out there on a head of a pin.
Anyway, I got Dad on my mind. It’s partly because he called yesterday but mainly because the furnace came on this morning.

From my journal 1990

The Loggiville road with its canopy of trees
Sitting in the GMC, my father and me
With ribbons of sun filtering through the leaves
Falling on the windshield
Potholes sink each tire
And we rattle for a while
As cars pass, hands wave
Acknowledgement from all
And dad spits tobacco
which seems to go a mile
To where the
pinto ponies graze
As I look upon the trailors with
rows of weather vanes and then
out beyond
to a point of sand
a moon time shore
where fires from the night before
leave behind blacken wood
to be covered up by the first big snow.
The road’s a sweet one –
That’s for sure

(before I moved to the big city I use to pronounce "sure" as "shore" – so when you’re reading it – it suppose to sound more like “that’s for shore.”)

writing

2006-10-24T09:52:00.000-04:00

I finished my Vampire story yesterday but I still can’t come up with a title. It is funny how things work out – I happen to have a Billy Talent song on my Ipod, Prisoners of Today, from Erin’s CD. She is a fan of Billy Talent; I am not that big of a fan but this song started playing when I was jogging yesterday. The lyrics jumped out at me, along with the teenage angst that accompanies his songs and I started figuring that this was the tone/feeling I wanted for my story. So, when I got home I listened to the whole cd and finished writing the rest of the story and I wrote close to 1300 words. Its total word count is almost 7500 words but I’m hoping to whittle it down over the next couple of weeks. I always feel good when I finish a story.
I came up out of the basement and made cookies after that –

Sunday and we had a friend over for supper and we got into a conversation about writing and other creative outlets and it was pretty interesting. We all agreed that – talent aside – to be successful in anything it just comes down to plain hard work. Which was funny because I was reading the writer’s almanac the other day about Michael Crichton. How he wrote 10,000 words/day while he was studying to become a doctor. How is that humanly possible? I don’t know if I would of wanted to be a patient on his watch? These people must not sleep.

But that being said I also realize that a little here, a little there is not going to get me anywhere and if this is something I want for myself I need to churn out five thousand words a week – and I have to submit more regardless how much it hurts.

I think I sent off stories to four or five places in the last three months, all rejected with a form note except for one which said, although he thought the writing was fine, I left too many questions unanswered. – Which is progress for me.

I think today I’ll try to write a chapter “In a beggar’s pocket” and then clean the house.

2006-10-16T08:58:00.000-04:00

This week (or at least the next couple of days) is about bookkeeping – I let is pile up a bit. It is chilly here in the mornings. We took the dogs to the shore yesterday and Cinnamon started swimming after these two huge swans. They lazily swam in front of her leading her further and further out into the lake. I’m whistling my head off and yelling for Greg to do something. I was scared they would get her way out there and she would be too tired to come back or start pecking at her head or something. They were bigger than she was – Greg is looking at me like, you don’t actually think I am going to go swimming after her? But he did the big call out to her and she finally turned around.

Greg said, “You know it is never a very relaxing time taking these dogs for a walk?”

As we watched Cinnamon do loops up and down the shore as fast as she could go I said, “But they are fun to watch and don’t worry greg, they’re still very young, they’ll settle down at some point.” Although I’m not a hundred percent convinced of that.

Anyway, Greg site is now up – he is going to tweak it a little more and I think he is going to put up a demo page so viewers can see the video quality. So, another week and the changes should be made.

The link is www.mdialogue.com

Deadwood and deadsquirrel

2006-10-11T10:17:00.000-04:00

O.K. that was pretty lousy but its my blog ☺ so I’m going to leave it. It was a crazy start to that day though. Nerves were a bit frayed. I was still a little upset that I didn’t get myself together enough to get that job. We left the dogs for a bit on Saturday and they chewed along the bottom of our cabinets – nothing a little paint won’t fix but still – and the thing was Greg had just come back from the market with these huge bones for them. Suffice to say by Sunday morning I just wanted to go for a long drive in the country – I am not sure if everyone else did, which made for a less than peaceful drive. But by the end of it- it was fine and just what I needed. October is a funny month. Today it is raining steadily – the force of it varies from drizzle to downpour. The jogging is going O.K. – I’m still taking the dogs with me. They are pretty good. Of course they get easily distracted and want to pull me into certain yards, over to certain trees, garbage cans, other dogs but for the most part they trot nicely beside me.

I am a little hesitant about letting them off the leash now. I didn’t tell you (because I felt guilty) but a few weeks ago we were at a lovely tree filled park which had an off leash part to it and we were walking behind the dogs as they dashed up and down the path and between the trees. Anyway, first thing Erin asks is “do you think our dogs could survive here all winter by themselves?”
And Greg answers, “No they would starve to death.”

Seconds later we hear this screeching and I go running into the trees to see my dogs shaking a squirrel. It was dead by the time I got to them. Man, I felt bad about that. But I think they answered Erin’s question. Annie chased squirrels for fifteen years and never caught one and she was fast. But these dogs are more like the cat – they crouch and sneak, crouch and sneak and then take off after them (and they are very quiet) Maybe I will get a little bell for their collars. I think it is the husky part of them and that they act as a team. Anyway, it isn’t a good thing. I have no idea why I accept it from the cat when she brings home a mouse or a bird but it bothers me that the dogs did it. I hope the squirrel people don’t come after me –

I watch Deadwood now every Monday night. I think it is Season One that I am watching – they have back-to-back episodes of it on the history channel. I’m not sure how historical the facts are but I really like this show. Mind you when ever I see the Gem saloon owner (I forget his name at the moment) I need to come down on the volume so his cursing doesn’t make its way up stairs to the girl’s ears. I don’t know why I am so taking by that character because he is such a bad ass but he’s entertaining. It is the kind of show you want to have a shot of whisky with and a bar to slam your empty glass down on. I reckon I’ll keep watching.

weekend

2006-10-09T09:28:00.000-04:00

Fields of amber and suede
Barns of silver and stone
a country drive
to get a seasonal taste -
They argue in the back seat
it is so constant
we threaten to turn around
One wants to get a pumpkin, the other wants
An iced cappuccino
One wants the window open, the other wants it closed
One wants to talk, the other wants to shut her up.

The eldest daughter, her white earphones wrapped around her
throat like a scarf – Panic at the Disco roaring through her
temple - raises her voice so she too can hear her own
yelling
and then the dogs begin to whine – wondering why it’s taking
so bloody long to get to a park.
It is not quite working for us today.
And we’re about to give up on this outing when the youngest
spots a “U Pick” sign –some marker on a sheet of cardboard.
we pull into
rows of trees, blue skies, fruit hanging abundantly
We gather bags
And begin to indulge in one
of the first pleasures of mankind
The picking of apples
Plucking their round bodies of gold and red
from branches so laden, they’re thankful
that were here to offer relief
Red delicious, Empire, Cortland, Spartan,
Crispin, Idared, Jonagold, Macintosh

I disappear for a bit - four rows over in the
Spartans to simply stand in hushed sunshine–
Near is a birch
Wide and lovely, her white body, yellow leaves
borders the next farm
a stretch of field waiting for winter
an apple tree, a birch and a field
And I am suddenly thankful-
I turn back up the row
And spot my daughters
their conflict
For the time forgotten as
they
both reach for a red delicious
From the same branch.

Picking apples

2006-10-08T15:30:00.000-04:00

between the whines

2006-10-05T09:28:00.000-04:00

Clean up day. How fun. I am hoping to sneak a few hours of writing in there somewhere. I have an ending for my vampire story now. The trouble with my vampire story is I can’t get the tone right. I need to make it darker, creepier but I keep pulling back for some reason. I should just let it go where it wants to. But on a lighter side, I am having a lot of fun with my fantasy/s stories although I don’t get to them very often – with one, I think I might have too many characters. It sort of starting to feel like a Seven Samurai/ Magnificent Seven type story except the heroes are six kids and a huge desert hen. Don’t ask? My muse drinks me thinks. Anyway, dogs are whining at me, time to let them pull me across the city towards the dog park.

It stopped raining

2006-10-04T09:02:00.000-04:00

So, I'm off for a jog with the dogs. I’m hoping it relaxes me a little because I have a job interview later this morning and I’m starting to freak. Fingers crossed.

2006-10-03T09:11:00.000-04:00

That is Greg at the picnic table, daydreaming about sailing his own one day.

weeds

2006-10-02T13:15:00.000-04:00

We step across the threshold into October. Just down the hall, near the den sits winter. With a nod she invites us all to go sit with her for a while but for now we’ll just hang out near the front door's coat rack, and look back through the window at summer.

I decided to take the dogs for a walk to the quarry yesterday. As I past a coin-operated newspaper dispenser the headlines caught my attention. It collapsed like a house of cards, it read. It was referring to the Quebec Overpass, near Montreal, which fell on two cars, reducing them to sheet metal, killing five people.
I kept thinking about it as I walked. I wondered how busy the highway would have been on a Saturday? Were they passing under it at the regular speed or were they slowed up in traffic? How long does it take a car , which is traveling at 100 kms an hour, to pass beneath an overpass? 3 seconds? And where were they going? To the mall - to visit a friend - or heading out into the country to see the changing leaves? Or were they returning home with the baguette and quart of milk they were asked to pick up while they were out? Three seconds – I thought about how many seconds there are in an hour, a day, a year -30 million and change I figure. What are the odds of being under the pass on that very second it let go?

And then I started thinking of the surviving family members. When did they first glance at their stove top clock and say, “What’s keeping them?”

Today I thought about the worker, who was sent to the bridge a half an hour before it collapsed, to investigate a complaint about falling debris. He declared it safe. Would he have been an engineer? And does he now sit with his face in his hands, agonizingly wishing for a chance to go back and change his decision. Life is a house of cards.

When I got to the quarry yesterday, I let the dogs off their leashes and they went flying through the tall grass. I stood for a moment and looked out across the expanse of field at its mixture of colour and I wished I could describe what I was seeing, or better yet feeling. The grass was the colour of a buckskin horse – two shades lighter than gold– and all through it were tall batches of flowering weeds -white, lavender, yellow, rust, brown. There were monarchs hovering over the tops of the tall, purple wayleaf thistles and there were clusters of what looked like minuscule yellow daisies, their sheer volume causing their bodies to bend into perfect arches. There was such a wild look to everything – it made me feel that our world could go on just perfectly well without us. For a moment i felt very vulnerable in that field of such incredible, resilient flowering weeds.

In the dog park

2006-09-27T11:08:00.000-04:00

The other day I was looking
at
the chain link fence
and a stretch of barren ground
It was all a little bleak except for the sky
The sky was so heavy with blue
it made you think of math
or fishing boats returning home
and as I watched,
a lone lax monarch
all marigold and ebony
entered the picture
Unperturbed on fragile wings,
it proceeded across this expanse of blue
and I felt this blue made the most perfect frame
for this summer creature
which appeared somewhat
determined to sneak quietly
into autumn’s colder air
to blend in, perhaps, with
the next big thing -
a colourful congregation
of changing leaves -
in a final wish to close her wings in one
spectacular display of falling

Monica

2006-09-21T08:44:00.000-04:00

Monica had forty dollars in her wallet for a pair of jeans. The ones she wanted were at a place not too far from her school and so she was going to purchase them at lunch time. Instead she comes home with a hard cover copy of New Moon by Stephanie Meyer.

It was only two weeks ago that I drew her attention to the first book of the series called twilight and that was by accident. We were in a bookstore looking for a birthday gift for one of her friends and I had pulled down twilight as a suggestion.

“What is it about?” Monica asked

“Vampires.”

“She doesn’t like Vampires.”

So we kept looking but Monica turned to me at one point and asked. “Can we get Twilight to read together?”

“OK.”

So, we buy it and we read the first few chapters that night but the next evening I am a little busy to read with her and so she asked, “Can I keep reading on my own?”

“Sure”

She read for three days straight and at every meal she would tell us what was happening. She absolutely loved it. Of course when she finished it she came and asked immediately if she could get the next one and I said, “No, it is in hard cover still. But maybe for Christmas.”

And so when she comes home with this book I’m a little disappointed. “You realize I am not replacing your jean money and so you have one pair of jeans and two sweat pants to make it to Christmas on.

“I know.”

“A pair of jeans would of taking you through the winter – that book will be finished in a week.”

“I know. But I think she is writing another one.”

-----

Another moment I had with her was last night. I called out to her, “Monica, they have the trailor for Eragon up.”

So she comes running in to watch it with me on the computer. And she is silent for the whole thing and as soon as it is finished she says very disapprovingly. “They got it all wrong. I hate when they make a movie without reading the book.”

For some reason that struck me so funny.

Close now

2006-09-13T14:17:00.001-04:00

Greg has been working hard trying to get his application up and running. It is 99% ready. Just a few tweaks and a week of testing. I am proud of him. I mean ideas are pretty easy – even great ones but seeing your idea go from conception to implementation is a huge undertaking and he never gave up on it. If something didn’t work he tried a new approach. He would have those moments in the middle of the night where he would jump up and say, “OH yes, that might work?” and then go running down to the basement to try his thought out. I think about all the evenings he spent down there working on it – with the cat meowing at the laundry door to go in to use her litter box, or the dryer sounding off with that loud beep and him pleading with us to keep the laundry room door shut because it was all too distracting. When Youtube exploded onto the scene, I kinda felt a moment of panic seeing Greg’s idea already done but he didn’t see it that way. To him it is all about building a better mousetrap and the sucess of youtube only made him more determined to get his up and running. And Apple just released ITV yesterday and so now everyone is getting on the band wagon but when Greg came to me with this idea over two years ago it was new and fresh and Greg would go on and on about mpeg4 and how it could crunch video down, etc and he was so enthusiatic about it, it was hard not to pick up on his excitement. However, he went at it alone with the help of one buddy programmer who was just too busy at his day job to give Greg the support he needed and Greg had his jobs too and so well it just took him this amount of time getting it underway. Sounds like I am giving a list of reasons why Greg is a dollar short and a day late. But I’m not. I am actually thrilled for him. He is so happy seeing it finally coming to life and it is a really nice looking site now and a sweet application and I’m very proud of him. It is funny though because the only financial plan we had for this was our Visa card (s). Man, do we have a strange relationship with that credit card. We moved to Toronto and lived for the first few months here with the help of credit, we got married on credit (our wedding and honeymoon came to the exact amount as our visa limit was at the time) and now this application was more or less completely credit card and line of credit supported in the last few months and well we’re maxed out once again. I’m not saying running up credit is the proper way to achieve financial stability but wasn’t the Wayan’s movie “Hollywood Shuffle,” financed by a Visa card? And it worked out for them – so our fingers and toes are crossed now leaving butterflies to roam freely about our stomachs. I’ll let you know when the site is up so you can have a look.

I wanted to try this meme

2006-09-06T12:43:00.000-04:00

1. One book that changed your life:

Gone with the Wind was my first adult book. I think I was twelve or thirteen when my sister and I use to sneak into my parent’s bedroom and scan their bookshelf looking for books with sexual content in them. We would flip through the pages until we came across love scenes and then read them aloud. Well, it wasn’t like our parents were going to tell us anything. Anyway as I was flipping through Gone with the Wind, scanning away, something about it caught my interest and I went back to the first page and started reading. I remember being so taking by that book, so engrossed in Scarlett's world, I would get excited, butterflies even, every time I sat down and opened it to where I left off. I believe previous to that experience I was happy with The Black Stallion, Trixie Beldon, Nancy Drew, and The Laura Wilder's series and I remember after finishing Gone With the Wind thinking wow, if every adult book is this grand and satisfying I am going to be one happy reader.

2. One book that you’ve read more than once:
The only book I read more than once is The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Once in my early twenties and again at forty. I loved it both times.

3. One book you’d want on a desert island:
Difficult to say. For me it would have to be a book I haven’t read yet. Something thick and critically renowned.

4. One book that made you laugh:
Elle by Douglas Glover. It was laugh out loud funny in parts.

5. One book that made you cry:
Mary Karr’s The Liar’s club. If I remember correctly, at one point she is sitting in a diner with her mom asking questions and getting answers, which caused me to have a mini breakdown of sorts. I cried for several minutes over that page.

6. One book that you wish had been written:
Hmm – The gospel according to Mary Magdalene

7. One book you wish had never been written:
Sorry, stumped on this one. Possibly Madonna’s children book just because it was so hard to get by its all- gloss-and-glitter-display case that was stuck in the front of every bookstore, especially when you had a little girl in hand. In fairness though I haven’t read it.

8. One book you’re currently reading:
Stephen Erikson’s Gardens of the Moon

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read:
Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time

September

2006-09-04T09:31:00.000-04:00

All done with that – thank goodness. Happy I was able to stick with it but I don’t think it did much for me except having me wish an entire week a way. I love food. I shall not be parted from it ever again. Made rhubarb jam this weekend. The only thing that was edible in my garden. I miss not having tomatoes. And the raccoons are into the grapes again. What a mess. However the sweet smell of ripe grapes is so nice when it drifts through the kitchen window. Summer is winding down. It seemed so incredibly quick this year.

2006-08-31T17:11:00.000-04:00

my kingdom for some peanut butter

2006-08-31T11:03:00.000-04:00

I’m fasting this week. Well not really – I am drinking a mixture of lemons/ water/ cayenne pepper/ maple syrup every morning and at dinnertime I am eating a bowl of brown rice. Started Monday and I have four days to go. Why you may ask? I don’t know – I seen it on our local news show. Suppose to cleanse away the old toxins that accumulated in your body, which makes you sluggish and prone to illness or something like that. Just very curious if it will give me energy? I had stopped jogging again and want to start up when the girls go back to school next week. (never did train hard enough to do the half marathon this year) However, now I want to rise early and start the day right, so I am hoping this will help give me the will to do that.

So anyway, now I’m kicking myself because I have to last the week (promised myself I would) but it is making me miserable. It is not that I feel hungry all the time or anything. That drink really does give you a full feeling and I think it is the cayenne that gives me a boost of energy. It is only at night when I feel like I want to kill something and eat it.

The added bonus however is you lose weight – like a pound a day – I have never dieted, I don’t believe in dieting – when I begin to gain weight I jog but I can’t say I mind losing some weight. I never really had to worry about weight gain until I hit forty. Just very lucky. Even when I was pregnant I gained very little – I got away wearing my sundresses and jean overalls through the entire pregnancies. People would argue with me at nine months that I wasn’t that far along. And when Monica was born the obstetrician wanted to know where I hid my babies during the final semester. Both times I think he believed they would be smaller than they were. But they were both healthy sizes Erin was 7lbs 3 ounces and Monica was 7 lbs 5 ounces. Anyway, this good fortune stopped at forty. Now, I need to jog. So, I hope this experiment works.

2006-08-24T16:20:00.000-04:00

this week

2006-08-24T10:21:00.000-04:00

The clouds this morning
lean on one another swollen and sullen
comparing bruises

Dark day but tall sunflowers
At the line of fence
Open yellow

Just spent three days finishing up that job for Greg and I think it’s done. Long hours at the computer. It wasn’t difficult work, just a little tedious. But I was glad for that “useful” feeling it gave me. Now I face a house that needs a lot of care and attention today. I think I mentioned before that I am not a multi-tasker. I was wondering if at first though I should cheer myself up by walking to the bookstore. Add something else to my yet to be read pile. I was thinking I ought to try Proust. Is that crazy? I heard he was a bit neurotic, I like neurotic writers. I figure if I read Joyce, I can read Proust?

Currently I am reading Steven Erikson’s Garden of the Moon. Fantasy. It’s pretty good. Any book that drops away the places past its borders and leaves only the story to fill my head space, I’m fine with. Anyway, must get at things. Monica had a wonderful time in New York. Erin is starting to get a little antsy about high school. I remember high school very well and oh, I wish I could protect her from all that. Prime beating yourself up years.

maybe not

2006-08-19T15:19:00.000-04:00

Looks a little like rain today. I think I will clean the basement. How’s that for an interesting Saturday? I went to the driving range last evening just to hit a few balls and this older gentlemen approached me and gave me a few pointers and they worked. Greg tries all the time to help me but for most of it all I hear is, “blah, blah, blah” . and it is probably great advice that he is trying to give me but I got so much advice from him over the years that it all warps into white noise now. Especially when it comes to golf.

Things (knock on wood) are looking positive for Greg in New York. The trip concerns the web application that he has been working on – He was so hoping to have had it up and running before this but cash flow and time wasn’t always that easy to come by. Anyway, he had two meetings and both parties showed some interest so hopefully the trip was a worthwhile one. I know it has been for Monica, she is loving it there.

The authors of two separate blogs that I read became new moms over the last year and I have been enjoying their sparse but touching entries on motherhood. Of course this had me reflecting on my own first years as a mom and I went back to my old journals to see if I had anything to make a blog entry about. I found a few touching moments but mainly it was me whining the whole time. Monica, I believe I handled things fine. Second time around is the charm sort of thing. But I was lost as lost could be with Erin. And so incredibly lonely at times. And in a few entries I may have bordered on psychotic. I am not sure.

My pseudo -psychotic episode happened three days after I got Erin home. She was so tiny and wonderful and new and I started to fret that the environment she was in wasn’t clean enough and so I started scrubbing. And I became overly concerned with the litter box and since we lived in a very small apartment at the time there really wasn’t any where for it but just outside the bathroom. Anyway, I’m cleaning out the litter box and I notice a little white worm and I freak. I mean I freak. I called the vet and said my cat has worms, they are all over her litter box and I have a brand new baby. And I’m a little frantic on the phone and the vet’s assistant is being really polite and telling me to bring in a sample along with the cat and I’m saying – I can’t do that until tomorrow because my husband is at work and I have a brand new baby and no car and what should I do in the meantime? Can the cat pass these worms onto my baby?

and she is more or less trying to tell me that unless the baby eats the cat shit- its all fine.’

But I was not fine. I started seeing little white worms everywhere, in the carpet, towels, bathtub and I carried Erin about that whole day and I wouldn’t put her down. And to top it off the cat didn’t even have worms.

New baby + isolation + busy husband = Whoa! Not a good mix.

So, anyway maybe it’s a good thing I couldn’t blog back then. ;)

shopping and stuff

2006-08-18T11:36:00.000-04:00

Greg and Monica are in New York. I loved the phone message I received from Monica last evening.

“Hi mom just wanted to let you know that we had a safe flight and we are in New York and New York rocks my socks even though I’m not wearing any right now. So, you know, I love you, bye.”

Greg is down there on business and he took Monica. His friend’s girlfriend is going to show her some of the sights today. Which is very kind of her. Greg will have the weekend to show her the rest. Next trip he’ll take Erin. Erin and I did a little shopping yesterday. I purchased a new pair of runners. She got two pairs of jeans. We ordered out Chinese food for supper. It was a fun day, however when we ran to catch the subway I left her behind on the platform. The doors closed just as I got on. I swear, I thought she was right behind me. We met up again at our station and I apologized. How the parenting skills just continues to slack off with each added year. She is nearing fourteen now and oh my gosh, I have no idea how to parent a fourteen year old. Just like I had no idea on how to parent a thirteen year old. I count myself very fortunate because she does make it easier by not trying to grow up too fast. She appears a little younger than some of her friends, which right now I count as a good thing. She did ask to lighten her hair and so we finally purchased some dye but then she backed off. Decided to stick with her natural colour. And except for the nail polish she isn’t in to much garnish. Doesn’t need it anyway. When she starts high school , I know this may all change quickly. One of her friends just got her lip pierced. Ouch! These are a few of the things I don’t worry about at the present time which is just fine with me. I enjoyed yesterday. I guess she must get it from her dad but she has such an understated wit about her, some of her throw away one liners make me laugh so hard. Hanging out with her yesterday made me think of something I had jotted down a few years ago – when I was up early one morning in New Brunswick, sitting on the front step of our small rented cottage.

The river surges
it weaves, it abates
tangle free
near enough that I can hear
it swallowing the salt
the ocean feeds it.
At times it lags
enfolded
in the song of gull,
Osprey and shag

mornings
gather thick here on the river
and though the screen door
I watch my daughter sleep.
She faces the panel wall
enfolded
in morning’s oblique blaze
She is all leg and arm
And smells of sun and river clay
Tangle free
So near I can hear
the song of her
childhood

2006-08-15T20:08:00.000-04:00

books

2006-08-15T10:17:00.000-04:00

I thought I would attempt to write a book review. I looked through the recent books I read and decided on Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke. At first I thought I would visit Amazon or Indigo and read the reviews they had up just so I wouldn’t get too far off the beaten track with mine. See at first what others thought but then I figured that was cheating and anyway the hect with the beaten track, give me my hatchet, I’m going through the overgrowth. Don’t mind me, I don’t think I’m well.

I did hear though that this was one of those books that was often selected for a book club read and I would agree that it would make a good book club book. It does have the ability to churn up a lot of conversation. It is definitely a book you want to talk about.

I enjoyed it immediately, from that very first chapter. I thought her writing was so fresh, imaginative, humorous and detailed. I love fantasy and Susanna Clarke does it very well in a quirky, intelligent way. However, it is a thousand pages long and I did find once the story was underway and the main characters were introduced, that the book slowed right down and I spent a fair amount of time during the middle of the book, hoping something substantial would happen. There were several nights that I could only read four or five pages before my eyelids started drifting shut and I began to wonder if I had the stamina to get through this book. This being said I am so glad I pushed forward because the last four hundred pages came to life again and I ended up truly enjoying it. When I was in the middle of the book I would have said this book could lose three hundred pages easily without affecting the story but after I finished it, I wasn’t convinced of that anymore. It was the world she wanted to build and she put a lot of detail and history into it, and in the end it made the story richer.

This is the second novel I read this year with footnotes – the other being “The Amulet of Samarkand,” by Jonathan Stroud (Monica and I are reading that series) - and if this becomes a trend than I will need to find away to read footnotes without it slowing down the momentum of a story for me. I am drawn to read each footnote I come across and at times I was jumping back and forth, reading several different things on the same page. I don’t enjoy that. Although, Susanna Clarke’s footnotes about certain books of magic and fairy stories were great reads all on their own. Little miniature short stories here and there but still so many footnotes was very distracting for me.

Anyway, I recommend “Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell”, especially if you love fantasy. Actually, I recommend it even if you don’t.

2006-08-09T10:15:00.000-04:00

dream

2006-08-09T10:04:00.000-04:00

August and her wings
wasp with mustard polish
Bee and monarch, moth
Cornflowers with purple pouts
Sunflowers with solid stalks
Nights of low tolerance
a need to leave the house
the kitchen door the heat glued shut
gives with a grunt
the small garden a mirage
White lights shine down between
Green grape
night swims across
the textured glass of the patio table.
Fence of pine, raccoon eyes, just a flash
Heavy furry bodies lumbering off
And in this twilight a wish to be more
Lays its weight on every weed.

I had this dream where I kept going out every night to all these different bars and casinos. I was meeting up with friends and was very excited about it all. Many of the people I was meeting were childhood friends of my brother and of my sister Sandra and even a few characters from books and from Coronation Street. The bars/casinos were much shadier than the ones in Las Vegas and most of the time we ended up sitting around a round table playing poker in a corner. As it is with most dreams - somewhere you really want to be is never that easy to get to and I was having all kinds of trouble finding my keys, purse, shoes, etc every time I tried to leave the house to meet up with these people. When I finally did arrive the first thing someone would ask me, “Is your sister coming tonight?” And I would answer, “I don’t know?” Every night they would get a little angrier with me and I thought it was because I was always late until one of my sisters pulled me aside and said, “They really are expecting Sandy, not you. I don’t think they even know you that well.”
but I ended up yelling at her and went anyway and only realized after I was sitting holding my five cards that I was being completely ignored by everyone and Steve’s mom from Coronation Street (Liz I believe) was actually giving me these dirty looks and it dawned on me then that this had happened every night that I sat down with them but I hadn’t noticed before and I woke up actually embarrassed that I had tried to force friendship on these people until I realized it was a dream. Strange.

Today it feels cooler and I am plodding along doing a small job for Greg. Kids are bored out of their tree and the air outside is carrying voices easily about up and down the street. From my bedroom window I can hear the two landscapers near their truck, speaking in low tones just as clearly as I can hear the two moms down the street talking about their weekend. The air is less heavy, easier to carry voices perhaps?

http://I Love her music

summer moments

2006-08-05T19:56:00.000-04:00

weekend

2006-07-29T11:49:00.000-04:00

Greg said the other day that I was on an anti quest for self-awareness?? That I do absolutely everything in my power not to confront the person I am? I know I avoid certain things but its how I get on and getting on is mainly all its about, isn’t it? Had a long talk with my sister on the phone (the one who is going through a divorce). We use to be very close but we drifted slowly apart – well I drifted to Toronto and over the years the communication between us just slowed down to a trickle but I know she has been unhappy for a very long time and although this is a difficult time for her, she can see the clearing finally and I know things will be better for both parties shortly, and hopefully for the children. They are both good people but just not good together. I was her best woman at her wedding and I had only met her husband to be a few times before that but I had mentioned to Greg that I didn’t think this was the greatest match up. I just couldn’t spot the chemistry. So, then you start wondering what is the right equation for a happy marriage?

Greg and I were at our high school reunion last summer and those who didn’t know that we became an item after high school were flabbergasted to see us as a couple. I mean Greg was this well liked, funny, intelligent guy and I was this extremely shy, unpopular, c+ student. But it worked. So far anyway. Sometimes I think it works for me because I use him as my confidence. Greg has enough drive for both of us but I don’t know sometimes what I give back in return? His comment about the anti quest stemmed from an article he read about shyness and he asked why I didn’t want to see someone regarding it because it might help me get out of my shell, become less anxious in situations that involve other people, possiably live better? And I simply laughed at the idea, which triggered a discussion on self-awareness -- I was trying to say that shy people were too aware of self to begin with that sometimes it almost borders on narcissism. (I mean not all shy people)

And he informed me that self-absorption and self-awareness were two entirely different things. I think self absorption is when you take what you perceive people think about you and pile them up inside you. Self-awareness is when you get rid of all that external garbage and go inward and find the person that you truly are. And this is what I avoid. Sorry, this is one convoluted blog entry and its funny because what I started out to write about is the movie The Libertine and how I enjoyed it. Greg and I watched it Thursday night and I am still thinking about it. Maybe I should read up on this Earl of Rochester?

weekend

2006-07-23T14:36:00.000-04:00

Late on a Sunday morning. Just thinking about yesterday. We first spent the afternoon in the distillery district for their Partigras. We wandered about enjoying it all. The rain had just stopped and first things always being first, Monica wanted a hot chocolate and so we sat down on wet chairs and watched people walk by as she sipped on her drink. We then just wandered about stopping at each stage to listen to the musicians. For a while one young violinist (he had an electric violin) and his band captivated us. As we use to say on the East Coast growing up, “Man, could he ever give’r. I really enjoyed that. There was a bit of every thing going on including blues and Jazz.

After arriving home, Greg and I decided to head down to harbourfront for the Mexican Festival. We took the Go train to union station just as the sun was going down. The sky was bathed in pink peonies and the tall chrome and steel towers glistened, with splashes from this soft pink. I was left thinking how little I know this city and how sometimes it surprises me with its structured shine.
Once down there by the water we met up with friends and watched this popular Mexican group who blended traditional Mexican music with tech-tronics. I am not sure if you would call them a band since they were surrounded by laptops and other electronic devices but they were making some incredible sounds and the younger people there were into them. I think they were from Tijuana.

Anyway we got home a little late. Both of us happy that we had spent such an enjoyable day and thinking that we should really take more of an effort to take in the events (free events) that are constantly going on around the city during the summer. My summers usually consist of getting excited about going back east, preparing to go back east, going back east, enjoying back east, traveling back from back east, readjusting back to the city, reminiscing about my hometown for about a week or so afterwards, bouts of homesickness, and thus ignoring for a big part the city around me. Which is home and I wish I didn’t always have to convince myself of this.

So far spending the summer in the city has been going quite well. Monica and I finally went to Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and enjoyed it. I think Erin, Monica and I will head to the Zoo tomorrow if the day turns out nice. And I don’t know if I should be sheepish about saying this but I can’t wait to see Miami Vice.

Today it’s raining and I started yet another short story. I can’t even begin to list all my works in progress. It is a summer for getting my rough ideas down – this winter I hope to finish some of them.

2006-07-21T12:53:00.000-04:00

back to regular days

2006-07-15T12:37:00.000-04:00

Niagra.

My sister is back home now. So is Greg. His cousin is getting married this weekend so he flew down with his brother. This leaves me and Erin and Monica to figure out something to do this weekend. Although at this point I wouldn’t mind just putting my feet up and reading the weekend away.

I think my sister and her kids had a nice time. It meant a great deal to me to spend the past week with her. And a friend of Greg’s also stopped by for a few days with his family. He was in town to see the Crosby, Steels, Nash and Young concert.

It was so hot last night and I am a little restless now that I went from a full house to a quiet one. I wrote quite a bit yesterday and this morning, which after a week and a half without writing anything felt very gratifying. Finished another short story, “The Giant Impasse” and wrote another rough chapter for my book. My working title is “In a Beggar’s Pocket.”

I admire my sister. She is hard working and practical and I felt a little awkward at one point as I tried to explain to her that I spend a great amount of my time just making up stories about dragons and centaurs and stuff. She is a huge reader and I believe she is in the same camp as many out there with her thinking. That there are just so many wonderful writers and fantastic books that as it is you can’t get through them all in one lifetime, so why not spend your energy reading these great works instead of writing and always falling so short of the mark.

But I can’t help myself. I love writing. and really it only takes one story to make it all worthwhile and if I give up with out trying to get to that one story, I'll forever kick myself wondering if I did have it in me. And I'm not talking about commerical success just that one story I can be proud to say I wrote.

I blame this all on my grade six teacher who praised my story writing. I've been chasing that for the last thirty years.

City lights

2006-07-10T17:37:00.000-04:00

Having a lot of fun showing my sister and her family around this city.

family

2006-07-05T07:36:00.000-04:00

A five a.m. sky
Seven seagulls on silent wings
one grey cloud- fist shaped

Could not sleep. My sister, brother- in-law and nieces are arriving today. In a few hours. She is the third youngest. I am so excited. I hope she likes my home. It is a strange feeling this sense of shyness over my own family. It is hard to explain but I know it will be completely erased after that first cup of tea together. I hope she catches me up on every little detail about back home and she reads more than I do so I know we’ll talk about books. I’ll give her Gilead to take home with her. I want Dad to read Gilead too. I think he would really like it. And shopping – so many stores here and she loves to shop–And they want to see Niagara Falls so we need to plan a day trip. It is going to be lots of fun. Off to walk the dogs.

reading

2006-07-02T11:17:00.000-04:00

“I can’t see the Popsicle streaks down your belly, but I know they’re there.”

Marilynne Robinson, Gilead

I have no idea why that line made me catch my breath and hold it for a minute but it did. Most of us are familiar with that image but in one line she made it immensely moving for me. Suddenly, the images of all the children I remember who once had those streaks down their bare bellies came at me. I love how she writes. It’s like free-basing longing.

dragonfly

2006-06-22T09:13:00.000-04:00

Photo by Greg.

I have been jogging with the dogs in the mornings. It hasn’t been going so bad. They pull a bit but mostly they just do the husky thing and trot in front of me with their tongues hanging out the sides of their mouths. My dilemma is do I start getting up an hour earlier so it isn’t quite so hot for them or leave them back at the house? I forgot how dogs associate certain objects with certain activities until I was cleaning up yesterday and decided to listen to music through my Ipod while I went about it and for a second I couldn’t understand why Cinnamon was getting overly excited, following me about, jumping up on me. And then I clued in that it was the Ipod – she thought we were going on a jog. And I was thinking how this would make a good commercial for Apple – (The new and improved Pavlov’s bell).

2006-06-20T14:08:00.000-04:00

Erin also had us all traverse this skinny, half submerged log in order to show us this plant. She says it is carnivorous. My daughter knows her nature.

camping

2006-06-20T10:42:00.000-04:00

We stumbled upon this lad on our morning walk on Saturday. I don't know what kind he is- although Erin believes he is a snapping turtle.

He has a very cool tail.

2006-06-15T20:49:00.000-04:00

the ball game

2006-06-13T10:21:00.000-04:00

Yesterday we took the afternoon off to watch Monica’s team play their semi- final game. If they had won they would have went straight into the final game. (Back-to-Back games) However, it was not to be. It was a very good game though. The final score was 10-8. I was so very proud of her out there in her baseball cap and school jersey. Her long braids and freckles. She struck out the first time but the second time up she cracked it out into centre field. Got a run in. The third time she was up she popped one up high and it was caught. It is striking out that bothers her. It feels so much better just to hit the ball regardless if it is caught or not. I remember feeling the same way as a kid.
We are taking the girls out of school on Friday to go up north to camp for the weekend. We keep saying we will never camp again but something keeps drawing us up there. Well it was mainly Erin this time. She was the one that suggested we go up north this weekend. Greg and I are still trying to figure out some strategy of getting the two dogs and camping equipment all into the car. Going to be tight.

I have a story up on Gryphonwood’s new blog. A fantasy. It is the only story I sent out this year and am very happy to have found a home for it. And I received a copy of my book from Lulu. It looks pretty good. The cover turned out nice. I need to clean it up in some places but all and all not so bad for a first try. Makes me think I should do the same thing for the children’s book I wrote a long time ago and discarded. Monica said she would make me the illustration for the cover. And the story I am writing now. I don’t know but something a kindred to hope surfaces when I go back and read bits of it. I think it might be a decent one. Thinking I might even send off the first three chapters to a few places. Why not, I say?

So behind. Must get back to work.

2006-06-12T07:42:00.000-04:00

Determined we build
small things up and around us
placing them gently on one another
these Barriers
these today things
A sparrow’s common song
A ray of light on pine
Oregano and mint in terracotta brown
Cat’s eyes
The newness of dawn
but as it is
and as it was
loss prevails
loss continues
in spite of kindness
from petals

lindens

2006-06-09T09:27:00.000-04:00

I went out in the backyard the other morning. It was around six and the first thing to hit me was the scent of the linden trees from the neighbourhood. Their intoxicating smell was so thick I think I could have poured it from a pitcher. There were two huge lindens in the front yard of my childhood home. I remember constantly climbing one of them with my brother. What is it about summer and childhood? Give me a warm day and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with nostalgia, throw in a linden tree and I’m lost for the day.

Baked cookies last evening for Monica’s bake sale at her school. As I was letting them cool on the table the dogs got in and started wrestling on the kitchen floor, sending up small clouds of dog hair. I shooed them out and inspected the cookies and not thinking I wondered out loud, “I hope none of that dog hair landed on the cookies.”

“I’m not bringing those if there is dog hair on them.” Monica said.

“No, they're fine.” I said after my inspection.

“MOM, what if someone finds a dog hair on one?”

“Relax Monica, you simply have to say to them – that’s just a little cinnamon.”

And the other night Greg sat down in one of the holes the dogs dug in the back yard. I swear all you could see was his head and shoulders and I started laughing.
And so straight faced he said, “Now let me just get this straight – so this is perfectly fine with you.”

more books

2006-06-05T15:41:00.000-04:00

Forgot to mention – bought a few new books

The Girls by Lori Lansens ( I read Rush Home Road a few years back and thought at the time I might be reading the debut novel of the next big Canadian writer – I was right.

The Birth House by Ami Mckay
And Monica got Tale of Despereaux by Kate Dicimillo (she just finished The Hobbit and loved it.)
And I noticed The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue which I think might have to be my next book purchase.

weekend

2006-06-05T09:17:00.000-04:00

It was a fun weekend. I enjoyed seeing Greg’s friend again and his girlfriend was very nice. She had traveled so much and had such great stories. Monica was very much taking by her. She gave me a gift – Anne Carson’s Plainwater (essays and poetry). It’s brilliant.

I also just celebrated another birthday and I received a beautiful bouquet of cut flowers with a note that simply read, “from the gang back home” I thought that was wonderful. Friday night we sat under the grapes vines that are just getting started. Greg put some steaks on the barbecue and we had picked up some portabella mushrooms that Greg coated in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, grilled and served with goat cheese. They were very tasty. Saturday evening we all went out to a Japanese restaurant. Sunday after our guests left, Greg and I took the dogs for a walk to the quarry. The grass there is up to our knees and it was so entertaining watching the dogs race through it. They had this bounce to their stride so that they could see above the grass.

Now I am off to get groceries and dog food. Looks lovely out there

humid

2006-05-31T14:17:00.002-04:00

I watched TransAmerica last night and really liked it. Very warm here the last few days. The dogs look uncomfortable – I tried to coax them down to the basement where it is cooler but they won’t go down the steps. Too steep I think? Cinnamon is off her food a little but it's probably due to the heat. Now if Bow went off her food than that would concern me because that dog lives to eat.

Finally compiled a collection of some of my short stories and put them on Lulu. I call it Small Places (I don’t why – it just seems to be a common thread in the stories) And I had ordered a copy and am waiting patiently to see if it looks O.K. I did proof read it a dozen times but I know it's still probably full of typo’s and grammer mistakes. But that’s O.K. – I just want to see it in book form so I can give my stories (my book) a permanent home on my bookshelf – maybe even so boldly go as to slide myself in between a Toni Morrison and an Ann-Marie MacDonald. And every so often I can stop what I’m doing, just to look over at it and think “Look at me there collecting dust, binder to binder with such greats. How nice is that.”

monday

2006-05-29T07:09:00.000-04:00

I have to do quite a bit of work today - It is due by end of day and actually I need probably two days to do it but I got a little stressed over it on Friday and put it aside, thinking I would do it over the weekend. But I pulled a Charlie Brown (remember his Gulliver’s Travels report that he needed to do over his Christmas break?) Anyway I did everything but work this weekend. O.K. so now I am writing in my blog. But that ‘s O.K because it is 6:30 and if I start at seven that will give me a solid nine hours to get it done.

The slow pitch team that Monica is on won all their games and is now in the semi- finals. Very exciting. Greg’s good friend from New York is coming up to visit us this weekend. Him and his new girlfriend, who I have not met. This is enough to stress me out even more. Although I am looking forward to it. He is a very funny guy.

And the other news is we have a new family that moved onto our street. I am not quite sure which tree they moved into but we see them every night now around dusk. They are so lovely. Must be a lot of mice in our neigbourhood. Or as Monica pointed out – might be a wizard around who gets a lot of owl mail?

thursday already

2006-05-25T17:19:00.000-04:00

Well I can honestly say I feel very productive these days. Working almost full time hours for Greg and will be busy until the end of June. And I’m actually getting stuff done. He hasn’t even threatened to fire me in at least a week. So things are going fine. But what bugs me is how my self worth starts to climb with each billable hour. I mean I like this feeling, I just wish I felt the same way when I work without the paycheck. You know all those little life jobs. Like the housework and helping the girls with their studies. I feel these are just as important but for some reason I can’t get my self-esteem to join that way of thinking. Come on Esteem work with me on this.

Meanwhile, it has rained lots here and everything is lush. I left the grass grow too long and I tried to mow it yesterday with our small manual mower but I couldn’t get through it. I’m going to try whipper-snipping tonight if the rain holds off.

The dogs definitely did a number on our yard but still nature prevails. Flowers are still coming up. The clematis that they chewed through almost to the root decided to come up through the ground anyway and is now slowly climbing back up its trellis. And the rose bush that I planted for Sandy – last year it didn’t bloom at all but I counted three small buds on it this morning. I will post a picture of its first bloom.

Monica and I walked down to the shore Monday night to watch the fireworks. When we came back from it I took a pen and paper to the kitchen table and tried to write a poem about the two of us down there, sitting on this rock, it was a little cold, she was snuggled into my side, there was a big crowd, Everyone was shooting off their own stash of fireworks. Two boys were actually shooting fireworks at each other. And then the city sent up theirs and I don’t know. I just suddenly felt like it was a moment that was poem worthy – Erin and Monica are growing up so fast and I just want to remember that rock we were sitting on and her as a little girl.
The day before that I was at the mall with Erin, helping her pick out a graduation dress (Junior High) and she stepped out of the dressing room wearing this dress – it was a light lilac colour with tiny shoulder straps and a layered skirt ending little past her knees. It was so lovely on her – I got choked up for a second --- but of course she didn’t like it. She did eventually pick one that she liked. She is going to look lovely. And this weekend I promised Monica I would help her pick out hers. She is graduating from Elementary. My gosh. Lots to do for June.

2006-05-24T13:21:00.000-04:00

horses

2006-05-22T11:10:00.000-04:00

It has been a nice weekend so far except for poor Barbaro. Hope he will be O.K. I watch the Triple Crown every year hoping to see another Secretariat. I know she or he will show up one day but WHEN? The stars must have been in perfect alignment or something on the night when he was born back there in 1969. I was ten and remember clearly watching all three races with my family. We were screaming at the top of our lungs watching that horse outrun every other horse in the field – he made it look so effortless. Sigh. Love horses -- When I was a kid I went through that stage where I was determined to read every horse book in the library. The black stallion books were some of my favourites – the Island Stallion the best of them– Flame, I think? If I remember correctly?? Remember the big race with The Black and Flame? And the book Man of War – loved it. My friend Flicka, Misty of Chincoteague, King of the Wind and so many others. I was thinking about writing a short story about the Pony Express. A young boy and his leg of it- might be fun. I had that sitting in my idea book for a while now. I also have this science fiction idea and a vampire story that I think I want to try.

Today’s quote in Word a day was
The greatest part of a writer's time is spent in reading, in order to
write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book. -Samuel
Johnson, lexicographer (1709-1784)

I think that is so true. And not because Stephen King said it in his book on writing. I always thought that. The more you read the better you write. It’s pretty much a given. But would that mean if writing was your profession you could actually schedule your reading time under work? Imagine your workday consisting of writing for three hours and then reading for three hours – that would be like the ideal job. Wouldn't it? The only small problem is how dizzy I would get – both reading and writing make me dizzy if I spend too long at them. But I would take dizzy as an occupational hazard if I could be a writer. Never mind - I'm starting to make little sense now -

raining

2006-05-16T09:48:00.000-04:00

Two muddy dogs in a white kitchen – what was I thinking when I decided on white?? I should paint the whole thing over a dark grey.
My sister and her family are coming up in July so I am looking forward to that. We also have a friend and his family coming for a visit and Greg’s sister, so it makes sense to stay put this summer. Enjoy our visitors, show them the city. And so maybe in August we will rent a cottage for a week somewhere up north of here. By that time I know I’ll need to get away from the city for a little bit.

Greg and I and Erin watched the documentary Grizzly Man last Friday night. It was actually kind of funny, disturbing and thought provoking all at the same time. I keep thinking back on it wondering if he had it all wrong? That his passion was mis- directed. That this cause didn’t really need him – that he more or less superimposed himself into it because he was the one that needed the cause. Or maybe he actually had it right (I have no doubt that he loved these bears and he did bring awareness for them but he also proved in a tragic way that they deserve more than anything our respect and our distance. You can’t be going around calling them Mr. Chocolate and tapping them on the nose. The documentary was almost like a what not to do survival guide. At the same time he was such a compelling character I can’t get him out of my head.

Little down recently. No reason – lilacs are out everywhere now. A childhood scent for me – that and lilies of the valley. I loved the poem on Writer’s Almanac today. Jo McDougall. It is a little like my mood.

2006-05-12T08:41:00.000-04:00

Aureliano got undressed, tormented by shame, unable to get rid of the idea that his nakedness could not stand comparison with that of his brother. In spite of the girl’s efforts he felt more and more indifferent and terribly alone. “I’ll throw in another twenty cents,” he said with a desolate voice. The girl thanked him in silence. Her back was raw. Her skin was stuck to her ribs and her breathing was forced because of an immeasurable exhaustion. Two years before, far away from there, she had fallen asleep without putting out the candle and had awakened surrounded by flames. The house where she lived with the grandmother who had raised her was reduced to ashes. Since then her grandmother carried her from town to town, putting her to bed for twenty cents in order to make up the value of the burned house. According to the girl’s calculations, she still had ten years of seventy men per night, because she also had to pay the expenses of the trip and food for both of them as well as the pay for the Indians who carried the rocking chair. When the matron knocked on the door the second time, Aureliano left the room without having done anything, troubled by a desire to weep. That night he could not sleep, thinking about the girl, with a mixture of desire and pity. He felt an irresistible need to love her and protect her. At dawn, worn out by insomnia and fever, he made the calm decision to marry her in order to free her from the despotism or her grandmother and to enjoy all the nights of satisfaction that she would give the seventy men.

-- Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One hundred years of Solitude

2006-05-03T20:27:00.000-04:00

I have my fingers crossed for Elliott tonight.

The trees are absolutely beautiful here now. Still showing bits of their long limbs slightly calloused by winter beneath flowery canopies. Some in full blossom and others in waiting. The Cherry tree in my neighbour’s yard wears her white like a wedding gown. My pear trees look young beside her, not so sure of themselves yet, demure and sweet in their tight pink dresses. They press their unopen flowers into the blue of the sky as if wishing to leave imprints.

tuesday

2006-05-02T11:31:00.000-04:00

I promised myself I would clean the house today and I will, at some point, but I can’t rush into it. I might get hurt tackling all that dirt with one go at it. I must be strategic; mapping the lay of the land so that I don’t get blinded sided by two weeks worth of soap scum or tripping the elaborate alarm system that the dust mites have rigged beneath the beds. One can never be too cautious when house cleaning.

However, now that I sat down here I don’t know what to blog about. I am going to start playing a little tennis with my neighbour one evening a week. I can’t play tennis very well but I think it will be fun. And I am getting a little busy helping out with a few events at Monica’s school. And Yesterday I worked all day for Greg and got caught up.

I don’t think we are going home this summer. I don’t know how I will handle that but my sister and her family are coming to visit Toronto in July. So that will make up for it.

I haven’t been moving my word marker on my sidebar but I have been writing lots on my YA fantasy book. I’m still trying to figure out a name for it. I wish I had more time for it. I know it is as simple as making the time but I keep finding other things to do. I keep telling myself – once the house is clean I will be able to focus more on it, or once I get this done for Greg, or once the trim is painted, or once I get the back yard cleaned up, once the in-laws leave, etc.. and nothing ever gets completely done anyway so I don’t know why I just don’t give myself permission to give it the same consideration I give all these other things. anyway, off I go to clean.

On a dark desert highway

2006-04-29T12:47:00.000-04:00

Sunday we rented a mustang convertible, left the glittery strip of hotels and slot machines and drove west towards California’s Death Valley. The morning started off cold but we drove with the top down anyway. I didn’t think to bring a sweater (thinking desert = hot) and so I started to complain and Greg just turns to me, “we are driving through a desert where you can see snow capped mountains in the background, no kids, no dogs, no parents and you’re complaining?”
So, I stopped trying to get him to put the top up and by noon it was lovely and warm. It was a wonderful day and I was constantly in awe over the beauty of the landscape. We visited all the tourist areas like the Devil’s golf course, Artist Drive, the Golden canyon and Zabriskie Point. Mainly we just pulled off the road anytime we spotted something interesting and walked around wondering why it was all so quiet. And we came up with no bird song, no rustle of leaves, no sound of water. Rocks are pretty damn quiet. I would go back there. There is this resort at a place called Furnace Creek and Greg and I stopped in for a drink on our way back and it was a lovely spot. Almost appeared to me that it could be a writer’s retreat. There was this older couple sitting across from us, both reading and he looks over at her and says, “is it time for our nap yet?” and she, who is engrossed in her book, says, “in a bit.” So, he puts his newspaper in his lap and his head on his shoulder and falls immediately to sleep. Greg and I smiled at each other both of us thinking how much they reminded us of his parents or possiably us in another thirty years.

Las Vegas Boulevard on the other hand was WOW - at first I couldn’t help but think of the fictional city of Arrakeen for some reason – it all struck me a bit strange and I wasn’t quite sure what I would do with myself while Greg was at the NAB during the days but I ended up enjoying my time - just wandering up and down the strip, walking through the casinos, window shopping, people watching, sitting by the pool, playing a little roulette and the days seemed to go quickly. It was only six days anyway but I did miss the girls, the dogs by about day three-

Everything worked out well here – in fact it was a great experience for the girls to spend that time with their grandparents without us in the middle. I could see that they had built up a greater familiarity with each other over that short time period. Grammy said she loves Erin’s humor. Monica thought Granddad was a wealth of information about the stars (he was a sea captain for fifty years, joining the merchant marines at the age of sixteen – didn’t retire until his seventies) and because of his help she aced her science test. So, everything worked out fine all around.

I’ve been through the desert with cool wind in my hair (got to check that one off of my life experience list ;) I still don’t know what colitas is though?

Desert flowers

2006-04-28T18:00:00.000-04:00

rambling sun talk

2006-04-20T11:12:00.000-04:00

I could not sleep last night. Should wake the girls up but want to get this coffee down me first. So, I thought I would sit here and try to play with some words. Monica made the slow-pitch team. She is thrilled. It is all spring out there now. Buds and bikes and crocuses and young happy voices blended with bird song.

The mailman just came by with my passport. Which is wonderful since I am leaving in two days for Las Vegas. My In laws and my husband were very worried for me that it wouldn’t arrive in time and I kept telling them not to worry, that it would. One small skill comes out of being a lifetime procrastinator and that is the ability to judge where the last minute lies.

I don’t want to do anything today. It is too nice out.

A small sparrow lights on the fence
Her belly big. A sheet of paper held in her beak.
She jerks her whole body one way
And then the other
rays of sun reach out and touch her
Lending every tiny feather
Significance

Sun on my keyboard, illuminating one light coloured dog hair stuck in the groove of my engagement ring and as I type my ring sprinkles the laptop with tiny dots of rainbow.

the sun’s warmth
around my neck
like a child’s arms

Happy Easter

2006-04-15T09:25:00.000-04:00

Just more of the usual. The pansies are planted –this year I bought all cream coloured ones. Almost the colour of buttermilk. They more or less blend in with the house but I sort of like the look. Shaping up to be a beautiful day out there. I lost some of the past week because I wrote – I didn’t lose it – I actually think I made some progress but because of it everything else sort of piled up around here. Greg said the other day, “just want to let you know that when I walked across the dirty laundry on the basement floor my knees were at the level of the washing machine.”

And now I have one day to pull this place together for Easter and that is including making a friggin cake.
Thinking of home of course because it is a holiday and all. For some reason I woke up this morning wishing I had a half-ton. Taking it down some rough back road with the dogs. Dirt on the floor mat. The whole cab smelling like the inside of a well used baseball cap. Crack in the windshield. A view full of trees.

Mornings like this I have no idea who I am.

Blessed Mary, mother of God
Send me down a tommy cod

(I don't know the origin of that-)

there was also

Blessed Mary, full of grace
send me down a boot lace.

my first attempt at a cover

2006-04-07T09:47:00.000-04:00

dishes

2006-04-07T09:29:00.000-04:00

It was the blue plate with the sunflowers – the last one of the set. It snapped in half as I pressed my soapy cloth into it beneath the water. It broke sharp pushing up along my wrist. I pulled my arm up quick, out of the suds to see if I was cut, my hand soft from the warm water. I immediately noticed two distinct lines running along my skin up into my palm. They ran parallel with the bluish green vein lying just below the surface. After staring at it for a moment, it appeared nothing was going to happen until finally tiny crimson pearls erupted from the thin lines like spring buds on a dogwood bush. I did cut myself. Not deep but not scratch shallow. It didn’t hurt at first but a slight stinging came a few minutes later and was with me the rest of the day, speaking up when ever I moved my wrist. I don’t know if it was just the small rush of adrenalin or something newly added to an otherwise typical day, but when I cut myself the room, for that instant, got a little brighter. Nothing like a small wound to remind me that I am not really an outsider, tucked away in my head, entirely separate from everything else. For a moment I was physical, like any typical animal, were self-preservation and the act of being makes good common sense. This small cut made me feel a lot of things simultaneously. First it distracted me. It made me vulnerable, made me strong, made me focus on the opening, on the blood, on the anticipation of pain. It scared me a little but also made me feel oddly proud like look what I just did. It somehow even disappointed me that the blood wasn’t as much as I first thought – only five small soaks on a paper towel. All in all, it brought about something unexpected, a little excitement, a lesson on being more careful the next time. It made my moment of dish washing sharp enough to stand out briefly in an otherwise typical day.

april showers

2006-04-03T10:13:00.000-04:00

I had this amazing burst of energy for the better part of two weeks and got a lot accomplished. But now I am starting to fade again. Which isn’t good because Greg had just sent me an email with a list of new figures that he needs by tomorrow and I have a mountain of clean laundry sitting on the bed waiting to be folded. (I mean if laundry actually waits) and all these other piddly things. I love to know how writers find the time to write -

I have this little book that I jot things down in. Ideas that I think might grow into a short story or something and I swear, I have enough in that little book now to keep me busy forever. That is if I could get busy with it. Friday night I was at dinner with my in-laws and was listening to Greg’s dad tell this story about an incident in a small community up north (North West Territories) that took place in the 1950s and I couldn’t help but first think – wow, this would make a fine short story and then I thought No, it would make a better screen play and finally I wrote novel in brackets in my idea book – I got so excited about it I couldn’t fall to sleep the last few nights thinking about how I might go about it. But the thing is I would have to commit so much of myself to such an endeavor and the research that would be involved and --- but oh, it would be fun ---

Yesterday, I made a ceaser salad and lasagna for supper for Greg’s family and the girls and it turned out. I was still thinking about what to do for dessert about ten minutes before they arrived and ended up throwing together the ingredients for an apple crisp in about a minute and a half and even that turned out O.K. It was a nice evening. Also the dogs were well behaved. I think I might of actually looked collected in my mother-in-law’s eyes which would be a big first. I usually come off looking frantic.

And it just dawned on me this morning that Greg and I have an anniversary in two days. Fifteen years legal. I have no idea what I should get him. One year I wrote him a poem. It was God-awful but he liked it. Well, the poor guy couldn’t really say he didn’t? I think he would be happy if I manage to get this work done in a timely manner. So I will stop yammering on now.

it's spring

2006-03-31T08:23:00.000-05:00

There are several regulars that come to the dog park each morning. Including a few retired professionals, a few work at home moms, this lovely young piano teacher, a dog trainer, this woman who goes into work at eleven everyday and of course the dog walkers.
Over the past week I witness these people slowly emerge from their nylon cocoons – shedding mitts, hats, scarves, hoods, and jacket. We stand about now unencumbered by weighty coats, our faces to the sun like long ago druids – that is if druids stood around holding coffees and those plastic ball flinging poles. (I don’t know the proper name for them)
Most of us are reluctant to leave the park these mornings. It has been so unbelievable mild – I can’t believe I weathered a whole winter season of mornings with these people. It became so routine. I look forward to this hour every day more and more.

I now have 80% of the spring-cleaning done and feel very good about that. Rugs shampooed and windows done. I think I just might be ready for our visitors. I also spent a few hours in the back yard raking and surveying the damage. One rose bush - dead. One grape vine (the young one) – dead. Emerging tulips – chewed on. Lawn – annihilated. I bought some chicken wire and poles and hope to make some kind of barrier between most of the garden and the dogs. I know chicken wire isn’t the prettiest thing to look at but maybe I will plant some morning glories or some other vine to climb it? Or plant thick stalk sunflowers along it? The daffodils are already beginning to sprout from the ground and I will be disappointed if the dogs don’t let me see at least a few yellow heads. I swear there are holes in my yard at least three feet deep.

I have been jogging regularly and Erin has kindly offered to show me a few cords on the guitar and hopefully teach me how to play a song. I will enjoy that, especially because it will give us something to do together in the evenings. Tonight we are all going to supper at my brother –in-laws place. Kids are excited to see their grandparents. And tomorrow night I am off to a friend’s place who is hosting a little euchre competition. Now I only played euchre once but I played Auction all the time back east so I think I will be able to hold my own. Should be fun. Sorry, I’ll stop now..

procrastinating

2006-03-24T09:49:00.000-05:00

Sorry about that last post. It didn’t make much sense. I am a bit manic these days. Greg’s parents are arriving on Thursday and I have yet to start hauling out the child size dust balls beneath the beds or clean the windows to let some spring sunshine into this mite infested house. However, I did clean the inside of my fridge and it is a glorious site to behold. The ketchup bottle glistens, the remaining yogurts have this year's date, the jam jar’s spillage has been wiped clean from the glass, and every shelf shines like a fine jewel. But will this be enough to satisfy my in laws? I think not. Even from here I can hear their inner dialogue, “Our poor, hard working son married to that lazy sod.”
No they wouldn’t say that but it is how I feel right now. Actually I get along with Greg’s mom. I don’t think in the beginning I would have been her first choice for her son but I think we grew on each other over the years. I remember the second or third time I met her. It was in her kitchen and the first thing she did was hand me a pair of my nylons and say, “these must be yours, I found them behind the cushions of my GOOD couch.”
Talk about fall through the floor time. It’s not a long story. My brother’s wedding, several drinks, his home was not far from the Reception hall. But hey it is twenty years later and I shouldn’t be so panic stricken that my in laws are coming.

Greg and Monica went off to ski for a couple of days. I would have gone but for the dogs. Erin didn’t want to go. So, we are going to rent a movie tonight, order out – have some daughter- mother time.

Anyway, the dogs are whining at me in stereo for their walk. I am making progress with work and I ended up finishing that short story. It’s not very good but at this stage I figure my writing is like my cooking. Some times I fluke out and get it right but that is only after I burn about ten lasagnas or half bake several apple pies. One of these days I will end up with a decent story, I just got to keep getting them down.

thursday

2006-03-23T09:31:00.000-05:00

Monica closed the back cover reluctantly on the book, Eragon by Christopher Paloini, sighed and announced, “That was the best book I ever read.”

“Better than Harry Potter?” I questioned.

“Yah, it was like I was right there the whole time. I didn’t want it to finish. You got to read this book, Mom.”

I will definitely put it on my reading list although I am not making much progress through the books I’m already reading. Greg and I rented Capote last night and really enjoyed it. I am writing this fast because I need to get the dogs out, go for a jog, and then get the work I am doing, for Greg, finished up. The work he gave me I am doing in illustrator. I like Illustrator. It is pretty easy to work in except the other day I had it up and lost the align palette. It was checked off under window but it wasn’t anywhere on my screen to be found. I even closed and reopened the file a few times hoping it would wander back to me. I am hopeless with the rulers, I am entirely dependent on that align tool. Anyway, I closed the application again and noticed beneath it that I had a short story up that I had been trying to finish and suddenly I was sucked into it. An hour later Greg walks in wondering what progress I was making on the figures.

“What’s this? I thought you were working on the stuff I gave you?”

“I was but I lost the align palette.”

Got to make it up today.

spring

2006-03-21T10:15:00.000-05:00

When we took the dogs to the park on Sunday we spotted eight or nine robins on the ground all together. I never see them in bunches like that. I wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not. Do you make one big wish on all of them or a separate wish on each one??

A mob of robins
numerous bursts of red breast
but only one wish

I have so much to do I can’t get started.

Raining

2006-03-12T10:36:00.000-05:00

It is hard to get motivated this morning. Girls want to go to the mall. Yesterday ended up being so mild you didn’t need a jacket. Monica got her bike out and went off through the neighbourhood with her friends. I took the dogs for a long walk – they found huge puddles in the quarry and were absolutely in their glory running and wrestling in them. A friend from New Brunswick was in the city a week ago and stopped in the night of the Oscars. He watched them with us. He took a liking to the dogs. Especially bow and would have taking her if we thought two dogs were too much. You know it crossed my mind – not that I think they’re too much – but he does a lot of field work, is in the woods a lot and I can imagine either dog would be in her element racing through a wooded area, near fields and streams. I would like that for them. Heck I would like that for me. But I don’t think I could part with them.

Last night I went to the wake of a wonderful man. He was just starting his retirement the year we moved into this house. He would do anything for anyone – he helped us with the grape vines, took care of Annie in her later years when she couldn’t go on long trips with us anymore, always told us what was happening on the street, last spring he grew to many cucumber plants and gave me a bunch for my garden, gave the girls chocolate bunnies at Easter time and he just loved our cat. Lucky would always be on his porch at his feet when he sat out front in the late afternoons and he would call out to us if we came out of our house, point down at the cat and say, “HEY, I’m going to start charging you guys rent.” And then he would laugh.
He will be very missed on this street.

2006-03-12T09:12:00.000-05:00