However...

i have come to the end of my work year (slash 'school year') and am so excited to get my summer started. Not only will I have the freedom to play my days by ear, but I'll also have some free time, er, naptime, to blog. I've missed this so these last few months. Every weekend I feel that the precious moments I get while my wee one sleeps are best spent doing the things I can't get done with him awake. But now that I will have a couple of free hours EVERY day, I will feel no guilt in typing away for a little while, if only to feel vindicated at having been denied this during my work hours.

Don't get me wrong. I realize why it is best that the school board not pay me wages to sit and blog and write and express and feel. But I fail to see how it is better to be paid to just sit. My lack of blogging does not more work create.

Regardless, I will be writing more, photographing more, knitting more, blogging more. Just simply doing more.

And I can't wait to get started!

Write Brain #51

Once upon a Time - Ah! The classic opener! Finish the story. Start with: Once upon a time...

Once upon a time, there was a girl who dreamed that she would someday die. In the dream, she lived her life in a very ordinary way; she went to school, she had hobbies, friends came and went, boyfriends broke her heart and she broke some herself. In the dream, she eventually fell in love with a man that was good to her and they had some children together. The children grew up and the girl, now a woman, worried about them a lot, taught them a little and then let them go out into the world themselves. The woman and her husband did lots of things together; they ate, watched movies, took walks, went on vacation and sometimes fought. The woman and her husband sometimes did things without each other; he went fishing, she would go to the library; she went for coffee with friends, he would order pizza with his dad. In the dream, the woman and her husband got very old and one day he died. The woman was very lonely, at first, but eventually she realized that her husband was still a part of her and that she should be happy. In the dream, she made more friends and sometimes the friends were men. In the dream, the woman began to think back about her life, her childhood, her children, her husband and growing old. In the dream, she realized that she had lived a good life. And then she died.
When the girl woke up, she was very happy. And she knew that she would always be that way.
Once upon a time.

Fourth Annual Bloggers Silent Poetry Reading

Post your favourite poem (your own or someone else's)

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
-Mary Elizabeth Frye (disputed, but generaly confirmed)

Write Brain #110, Next Step

Take the Next Step - Very often in writing it is difficult to find a common thread to tie all th epieces together. Find three threads to turn these six paragraphs into one piece of writing. Dig beneath the obvious.

The circles of self and others overlap in a place that demonstrates what kind of person you are. How you handle situations, what you expect of yourself, what you accept from others, it is all defined by how these circles overlap in your life.

In my childhood I was so incredibly independent. I was a “I’ll do it myself” kind of kid and it served me well. No matter what other kids threw at me, I never allowed my resolve to falter. Name calling was like water off my back. Conformity became my enemy. From balancing my skills and abilities with those of my baseball team, from deciding that maintaining my self-respect was worth exactly the same as maintaining a friendship, to standing up to a bully on behalf of my wonderful brother, all these moments were about sometimes doing what wasn’t expected.

This independence, though, was not limited to the big decision moments. Little moments, like deciding to wear a homemade Labatt’s Blue costume when all, and I mean ‘all’, of my friends were dressing up as cheerleaders, or climbing aboard the back of my uncle’s motorcycle, if even for a short distance, despite everything in me wanting to walk instead. These moments would define my independence during my most formative years.

And it was this constant independence, cultivated during major and minor moments alike, that has led me to be the woman I am today. They led me to choose whether or not to share the toke being passed, or whether or not to take my first sip of sake and bite of sushi, or whether or not to continue to fall in love with a man that came with the luxurious luggage of two kids and one psychotic ex-wife.

These are the moments when the circles of self and the circles of others overlap and you must decide what kind of woman you are.

6th Picture Meme

Thanks, Coodence! Here is my 6th Picture Meme...
This is Harper. He loves to bath. He loves to splash in the bath. He also loves to lick the warm, wet, smooth ceramic on the side of tub. Then he loves to take his little Tomy Pirate and throw his overboard. This makes a nice little mess of water on the bathmat. But the Pirate isn't lonely for long. Because Harper also loves to throw the rest of his toys overboard. Eventually all of the toys are on the floor. Can you guess what happens next? Oh, no! All of Harper's toys are on the floor, which means that he doesn't have any in the tub to play with. Then Harper has to stand in the tub, looking over the edge, pining for toys. If he pines for too long, then the crying and whining ensue. Maybe Harper should consider keeping and playing with his toys, instead of THROWING THEM AWAY!

Write Brain #110

Petite Paragraphs One
Here is a chance to write short paragraphs of memory snippets. Use the starters provided.
I remember throwing...
baseballs in the backyard with my dad. I played softball from the time I was around 5 or 6 until 16, when they no longer had a church league team for my age group. I played for St.James, even though I wasn't Catholic. I loved baseball. Its one of the few sports where you are on a team and have to play as a team, coordinating your skills and plays in order to win, but you are still up to bat all alone. You stand at the plate, knees bent, holding that bat over your shoulder poised to swing. You eye up the pitcher and watch as she whips the ball at you and you concentrate on the ball as it flies towards you, making a split second decision about whether or not to swing. You swing at just the right moment and hope you connect and crack the ball out of the in field. Then you run like hell! But the throwing was always my biggest challenge. Practicing with my dad in the backyard was tiring for my shoulder. I was an okay pitcher. I was a great short stop. But I hated playing outfield. It was boring, for the most part, and even when I did have a ball hit to me, catching it wasn't the problem; the problem was throwing it back. I didn't have the strength to get it to home plate and sometimes couldn't even manage to get it to second base. But I kept trying. Which is the wonderful part of baseball. That you always try to better your game, which only helps to better the team.

I remember when my best friend...
sat beside my crush. I had been invited to go to the show by Danny Miles. I had a huge crush on him, even though he went to the 'other' public school. I was so nervous that I asked my best friend, Tanya, to go with us. I don't even remember what movie we were going to see, but when we walked down the aisle to the middle of the theatre and scootched down the row to our seats, I realized that Tanya was between us. About halfway through the movie, she said she wanted to go to the bathroom. She was so excited that he was holding her hand, and what was I going to say. As if I really wanted anything to do with him anymore, if he was that fickle!?!

I remember Halloween...
of every year. I've always had a soft spot for a night when you can dress up anyway you want and everyone else is dressed up too. I've been everything from the Bride of Frankenstein (one of those horrible cheap plastic costumes from the late 70s early 80s), to the ghost of Frida Kahlo, from a very elaborate homemade Labatt's Blue bottle (complete with pie plate bottle cap), to Professor Trelawney, from a Black Panther, to . I've had some years that were more fun than others, ones that I was really excited about. I've had other years that were just a throw together from the kid's dressup box.

I remember my first sip of...
sake. Kara had taken me out for lunch for sushi for the first time, at Hoshi's in downtown Peterborough. The atmosphere of the restaurant was so elegant and quiet and I was so eager to try everything that was traditional Japanese. The sake came to the table in a small carafe with tiny demi-casse cups. Kara poured my cup and when I put it to my lips I was so surprised to find that it was warm. It slid down my throat so smooth and delicious. It was a wonderful sensation of drinking something so strong and so smooth and I could feel it warming me from the inside. What a delight!

I remember hitting...
Richie Wells in the summer of 1983. We had been living in Florida for a few months and friends had come to stay. All of them had managed to get severe sun burns and had the look of well-cooked lobsters. My brother and I, on the other hand, were already brown and had earned very dark tans. But, we had spent a great deal of time outside at the beach and Chad had got a faint burn on his shoulders.
Over the last few months, we had a love/hate relationship with the boys down the street; Richie, and Robbie Wells were a year older than each of us and sometimes we played with them and sometimes we fought with them. But, regardless, we spent an awful lot of time with them.
My dad had always made a point of making the both of us understand that when you really needed to, a good strong punch in the nose would drop the biggest of guys. So, shortly after our friends had left to fly back to Canada, Chad and I were playing with Richie and Richie found out that Chad had a burn on his shoulders. Standing behind him, he wound up and slapped him so hard Chad fell to the ground without a sound. Richie stood there laughing, eyes closed in hilarity. So, I took my dad's advice, and while he still had his eyes closed, I pulled back my little 10-yr old arm and landed as hard a punch as I could right on the tip of his nose. As quickly as Chad had fallen forward, Richie fell backwards. But, neither Chad nor I saw what happened next, because we both turned and ran home as fast as we could. We never heard from his parents and I don't know if we ever told our parents, but Richie & Robbie Wells never bothered us ever again.

I remember riding...
a motorcylce on the day we moved into our apartment on Stocker Road. I never thought I'd ever get on one, after my father, Chad & I witnessed a terrible motorcycle/car accident on the highway in Florida. But on the day we were moving our stuff from my grandparents on Cameron my uncle Andre gave me a ride on his motorcycle for the three short blocks to our third floor apartment on Stocker. It was fun, but so short that I hardly had time to enjoy it. I can't imagine ever having the nerve to get on another bike, but maybe someday...

Write Brain

I will occasionally post responses to the Write Brain exercises. I'll post the exercise number and my response, as well as the "Take the Next Step" bits. Enjoy!

A Friend

There is something to be said for someone that knows you well. Someone who knows things about your life and your history and your person that no one else knows. And that is not to say that a husband should not be your best friend. At the end of the day when I need to vent about a coworker, or rant about a child, or cry about an argument, my husband is the shoulder that suits me best. But what about those moments that men just don't understand. Those moments when the little hair on my chin is just being painfully stubborn, or the clot in my menstrual cycle has even me gagging, or I'm sick to death of holding it in when I sneeze only to find that I have still peed just a little. This is the stuff of girlfriend conversation.

Now my best friend is home! She's been gone, trapsing around Europe with her husband (from Edinburgh to Cordova) since the middle of September. And by 'best friend' I mean, ONLY friend. I have always maintained a very small circle of friends and ever since my husband and I started dating, my circle has gotten smaller. Kids have taken up a great deal of my time and my friends have moved away. K doesn't have kids and always understands last minute plans just don't work. And she has a much bigger circle than I do, so she never feels slighted when I have to cancel. Plus, she can dish the dirt with the best of them, and never hides the girly stuff, even amidst the most polite company.

Thanks K for being you!

Its strange that a man like Tony Bennet would get it right, even way back in 1965:

We like to chat about the dresses we will wear tonight
We chew the fat about our tresses and the neighbours' fight
Inconsequential things, men don't really care to know
Become essential things that girls all find so apropos
Don't complain, please take my hand, just understand

The sweetest girl talk
We all meow about the ups and downs of all our friends
The who, the how, the why, we dish the dirt, it never ends
The weaker sex, the speaker sex you mortal males behold
But though we joke, we wouldn't trade you for a sack of gold
So baby stay and gab away, just hear me say

The sweetest girl talk
We all meow about the ups and downs of all our friends
The who, the how, the why, we dish the dirt, it never ends
The weaker sex, the speaker sex you mortal males behold
But though we joke, we wouldn't trade you for a sack of gold
It's all been planned, please take my hand, just understand
The sweetest girl talk, the sweetest girl talk, the sweetest girl talk
Talks of you

Cold, Walk, Write

I just caught up on some of the blogs I follow and noticed a chilly trend; many of us are living in and currently obsessed with the cold. Here in Peterborough it is -28, and for once the windchill is par. My front steps are covered with a thick layer of thick ice; we have sprinkled salt on it a few times over the last 24hrs and still it persists.

My little ball of fun is really working on standing and I'm sure will walk any day. His daycare provider, T, is doing her best to help, but really wants him to walk at home. So this weekend, I'll be walking him around the house as much as possible. That said, T's birthday is this weekend and I got her a Willow Tree figurine, Guardian Angel. It is perfect for her and I know she'll love adding it to her small collection of angels.

Also, I've been working on a submission for First Line Journal; I want to complete all four as connected stories. I don't really care if I win anything or not, its just a matter of working on my writing DAILY. I'm doing my best. I've also been going everyday to Critique Circle, which is one of my permanent links. Its a great site for writers; its a tit-for-tat type site for critiquing and editing all types of writing. You earn credits for critiquing others and use credits to submit your own work for scrutiny. There are lots of other bonuses on the site, like submission tracking, writing exercises, name creator, etc. I love it and it's giving me a chance to post some more of my work, as well as limbering up my editing skills.

So, now I'm just heading into a weekend of busyness; I have to make some more baby food for H, I have to get laundry caught up and have our bags packed on Sunday night. I want to head straight for my folks house after work on Monday to stay over and watch the inauguration on Tuesday. I'm getting a little too excited about this...but really, it is a historical moment!

Where will you be?

On September 11, 2001 I was attending my first day of classes back after a year off from my university degree. I had two young kids at home (ages 4 & 6) and had skipped the Monday to take care of a sick little boy. After my first class, I walked to the office of the class I'd missed the previous day to get my syllabus. The secretary had the radio on and was on the phone talking very quietly and seriously. I got my syllabus and left, thinking nothing of her behaviour. When I got to my babysitter's house she was on the phone and had the television on. At first I thought she was watching a movie, but when she got off the phone she told me what was going on. The rest of the day was a right off and when my husband got home we traded off and I went to work at my night job at our local bookshop. We brought the radio from the backroom to listen to president's address at 8 o'clock and the world has never been the same since.

At the beginning of the war, our leader, Jean Chretien, refused to join the invasion of Iraq, siting the fact that the invasion lacked UN sanction. It was a bold move that caused a lot of contraversy here, but I was incredibly proud of our country, for not being bullied into a conflict in which we did not belong. Fast forward...eight years and a new federal leader later, we now find ourselves completed entrenched in the war on many fronts.

In my small town of Peterborough, Ontario, Canada, we have lost 4 men (out of the 107 Canadians who've fallen to date). In a town of 70,000 that's enough. Actually in any city, 1 is too many. Speaking not only as a mother, but also as a daughter and wife and sister and person, this war must end.

Which brings me to now. On November 4th, 2008, the United States did what I had predicted from the beginning of the conventions would never happen. More importantly, they did what I thought never happen in my lifetime. My grandmother is close to 80 years old and with an ancestry filled with many races (including African descent), I'm sure she never thought she'd live to see it either. I wanted to be optimistic, but the tone of American politics and policies for the last 8 years had squashed most of the optimism I had ever had. So, to say that I was please with the election of Barack Obama is a gross understatement.

Many years ago, my great-great-great-great-grandfather, slace John Dorsey, came to Ontario on the underground railroad and started a new life with his free wife. Every generation since then has fought some sort of racism, personal, political, emotional. My grandmother was teased as a child about her kinky dark hair; she was the darkest of her mixed race siblings.My mother had to endure the fact that her white husband's (my father) grandfather refused to attend their wedding. As a kid I was called any number of names, despite being quite fair for a brown girl. Now, my son is a fair haired, blonde little beauty and I wonder how this will effect his life, growing up as a white boy with a brown mama. Why is it that in this day and age I still have concerns about the race, or apparent visual race, of my child?

And that brings me to today. I've put in for a leave of absence, for next Tuesday, in order to spend the day with my grandmother and mom, watching the inauguration ceremony live. I did not want to have to say, years from now, that I'd had to work that day and had to Tivo the events. If I know minute by minute where I was the day this world lost hope eight years ago, I certainly want to have similarly vivid memories of the day that we got our hope back. And I want to watch it with women who have walked lives similar to my own.
For the first time in a very long time, I have hope. Hope for the end of this war, hope for families, hope for our economy, hope for the future. Hope for the possibility that in the near future we will stop losing lives in a war that shouldn't be. Hope that all children will grow to know that no matter who their parents are, what colour their skin, what income they live with, or what gender they are, they can achieve anything they want. And more importantly, that they have the power to change the world, if they just dare to dream.

Blurred Vision

I had my first eye appointment in seven years this morning and now my vision is blurred beyond my wildest dreams. I'm having to type slower than normal and I can't see anything closer that arms reach. I feel like I'm sixty-years-old, holding objects farther and farther away to focus!

That said, every day I focus more and more on my writing and what kind of writing life I'm going to create for myself. I know that in my perfect world I would rise before the sun and sit at my computer and sip coffee while writing my morning away. But right now, I haven't the luxury. So I write at work. I allow my employer to pay my hourly wage while I leave my word processor open to write between tasks. It's working now and maybe if I keep up my own inspiration and energy, I can actually achieve my goal of producing something before the end of the year. My other goal is just to write anything for anything EVERY DAY!

So, to that end, I'm going to go write.

New Year's Resolution

I have never made a New Year's Resolution, but this year I've made an exception.
At the front of one of my writing journals (one I've had for years) I have a bunch of fortune cookie fortunes glued, that I've received over the years. On the last day of school/work, the office staff ordered Chinese food and when I opened my fortune cookie it said:
You will become an accomplished writer.
I shit you not. I called R at work right away to read it to him and, although at first he didn't believe me, he eventually admitted that it was a great sign. So, for New Year's this year, I resolve to make a much more concerted effort to write every day, and to try to complete something...anything, and then to try to have it published. I will endeavour to finish a first draft by this time next year. My long term plan is to publish by my 40th birthday....and now that I've put that out here, I feel so much more obligated to achieve it! If publishers won't take me, then self-publication will be my recourse.

Christmas is over

This was a pretty good Christmas, considering the fact that M&A spent the first half of the holiday with biomom. We got a great Christmas morning breakfast thanks to my folks; blueberry pancakes, bacon and eggs...ahhh.

My dad made H a puppet theatre (as per Mama's request) and it turned out fantastic! H doesn't quite get it, he keeps pulling the curtain aside to peek at the puppeteers!

Then we had a great time at my aunt and uncles (all of my mom's siblings and families were there). It would have been better had M&A been home, but c'est la vie. When they did get home on Boxing Day, we had a great time with them too. A loves his new lacrosse helmet, and M was not expecting the new art supplies! Then H opened (or rather Mama opened for him) his new Elmo.

We had a great roast beef and yorkshire pudding dinner at the in-laws the day after Boxing Day, complete with Christmas pudding and brand sauce!

But the highlight of my Christmas vacation (sorry fam), was waking up on Boxing Day morning to the phone ringing at 7am! No, I'm not being facetious. My best friend, K, has been travelling around Europe with her hubby since the middle of September. She called once from Scotland at the end of September (which I missed), but I've only had emails since then. Hostels and couches don't afford them the luxury of cheap phone calls. But they are currently in Spain staying at friends and so she called! It was wonderful to hear her voice and her laugh. I miss you, babe, and I love you. Hope you had a great Christmas and even better Hannukah!

So, another week at home with the kids, then back to work.

My New Year's resolution is to spend my downtime at work writing; not blogging. Real writing (sorry), writing with an end...I want to be working on a final draft of something by this time next year. Promise.

Selfish Indulgences

I have a chunk of brie & strawberry pastry in the oven which I will eat alone in the middle of this Monday afternoon. It's been in the freezer for some time and I was originally saving it, but I'm just feeling indulgent today. I could make something else for lunch, but I just am not inspired by anything else in the house, and I'm alone.
Right now, I am most thankful for my daycare provider, Teresa. She managed, in a matter of a few weeks, to accomplish what I could not in eleven months; my son has a two+ hour nap EVERY DAY! This is delightful! I can shower, eat, write a little, maybe knit or watch a little TV and still have time to doze off myself before he wakes up!
Merry Christmas to you, Teresa, and may Santa bless you with whatever is on your list!
--
I am also truly, and possibly redundantly, thankful to the people of the US. I very rarely make nice comments about Americans (although my father was once one), but this year all of their past mistakes have been forgiven. I would be remiss if I didn't mention that historically, the US's foreign policy is neglectful, at best, and disgraceful, at its worst. The list would be quite lengthy to discuss all of that country's shortcomings. But this past November, they came out and proved to the world (especially us Northerly neighbours) that they do have brains. And now the rest of us have hope. Hope for the current state of many countries, hope for the future of the planet, hope for the end of a pointless war. In Canada, we have officially lost 100 soldiers in a conflict in which we have no reason to be. The last 2 to die were from my home town of Peterborough, Ontario.
The 20th of January can't come soon enough.

Gift of the Magi...I mean, Feline

Many will say that the Christmas season is the best for family and friends. That moments of mirth and joy abound during this season and that we should relish in this time of year.
I say that there are small moments throughout the year that bring me joy. Moments that make me stop and breath and smile. But I will admit that the Christmas season does bring some beautiful moments to my life. Moments that couldn’t possibly happen at any other time of year. Is it the snow? Is it the warmth of home? Is it the lights and decorations that fill our homes? Is it stopping a moment to enjoy all of the wonderful things that life brings us?

It is all of these things. It is the stuff of dreams and happiness.

One of these moments happened to me the other night. I was noticing how our tree looked before we put all our decorations on it; we’d piled the boxes of decorations on the couch to do the next night. But because we had put our lights on, my husband had turned them on and had put some snowflakes decals on the window. When I walked into the living room I noticed how pretty it looked barren of decor. So I took a few pictures, fiddling with the flash and the aperture a little so that the lights would show up nicely. I finally got a couple of good shots and when I uploaded the photos to the computer I noticed a little gift under the tree.

Merry Christmas to Me

Today, I finally remembered during the day about a book that I want to buy for Richard; I normally remember at about 3am when I wake up to pee. So, I called my local independent to ask if they had the book. Here is the list of good things that happened:

- the clerk was friendly when answering the phone and wished me a "Merry Christmas"
- they had 1 copy left in stock
- in a flash of what I previously believed was dying customer service she asked if I wanted it held - I drove DOWNTOWN DURING LUNCH HOUR and did NOT get stuck in traffic
- as I rouned the one-way street on which the shop is located, a white car pulled out of the space directly in front of said shop
- no one else took the parking space
- I parked in the parking space
- as I opened my wallet to retrieve change for the metre, I noticed the FREE PARKING DURING CHRISTMAS sign wrapped around the metre
- I walked into the store, DID NOT WAIT IN A LINE, purchased the book and walked out of the store and back to my car in less than 3 minutes

This has been the season's Christmas gift to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Yum Yum Yum

Today is the grazefest, er I mean, staff tea in our high school office. Which means everyone in the office brings in food of various kinds and everyone mozies into the office throughout the day, eating and talking and spreading joy and cheer. And although I am new to this office, I've been looking forward to this for two weeks. I love this shit!!!! People and food and love. That's the stuff of heaven and dreams. It could only be better if it was my family and friends combined with my coworkers.
We've got bacon-wrapped water chestnuts, veggies and pita and dips (including hummus, artichoke & asiago, baba ghanouj, and tyrokavteri [God bless President's Choice], as well as hot dips), crackers, cheese & cheese balls, bundt cake, meatballs and more. Much, much more!!

And this morning on CBC radio1 I heard a man say "If there was just a lady standing there giving away tea and cookies and letting you vent, we'd all be a little happier". How true!