early senility?

i'm turning into one of those weird old ladies who talks to her dog, and triumphantly practices unconventional solutions to every day problems.

it's this 'air card'.

bought a little over a year ago, so i could have internet service for my laptop wherever i am, as, at the time, i was doing a fair bit of traveling with the job. it's always been a bit twitchy, but now it seems to last only a few minutes before it disconnects itself and i have to reconnect.... which becomes of shorter and shorter duration till it won't connect at all. and, of course, the warranty is up. the thing retails for $300 so getting a new one is out of the question just now. and they don't repair things anymore. if the service provider even cared. i recently had other issues with it, and was told by Telus Mobility (after nearly a week of back and forthing over the issue, with no satisfactory resolution) 'Well, Telus doesn't support Macintosh' (my laptop is a MacBook) but, i reply, you sold it to me specifically for a Mac. you set it up on my Mac. 'Well, Telus doesn't support Macintosh'. robotic response. i guess they don't get paid enough to think.

so.... the stick is not reliable.

i noticed that it's always quite warm to the touch when it stops working. so i tried letting it cool, then plugging it in for another go. and it worked fine.... till it got warm again. hmmm. there seems to be a temperature factor. with time, the warming seemed to happen sooner, till it was all i could do to open my email and get out a reply or 2 before it was shutting down.

hmmm.... maybe if i chill it first. so i put it in the freezer compartment of the fridge for a 1/2 hour..... and it did work a little longer before it shut down. hmmm... chilling it seems to be an improvement.

so, picture this. i'm on bereavement leave, and completely vegging out. doing the hermit thing bigtime. still in my plaid pajamas, barefoot and gritty eyed, with magnificent bedhead, i'm seated in a 30's style big, soft armchair that i've recovered in a floral tapestry fabric. the laptop is on my lap, a bowl of gluten free peanut butter comfort cookies i baked yesterday is near at hand. there's a home made quilt containing ice packs carefully arranged around the air card attached to the side of the laptop. the dog is fascinated by the ice packs, and doing his best to unobtrusively get his nose inside the blanket to lick them.

all a bit ridiculous, but, miracle of miracles, i've been on the air card for nearly an hour and it's working fine.

thankfully, we have wireless at work. i won't need to bring my quilt and ice packs.

in memory of

Vi.

she always went by Vi, though her name was Violet. Violet Rose. a lovely, delicate name for a petite woman who was quite a stunner in her younger years. she didn't like her name. Vi has been my stepmother since i was 3. in elementary school, my friends called her 'the wicked stepmother'.

she's not smiling because i was the one taking the picture. she didn't like me. the picture on her memorial program thingy is much nicer. she's smiling at the camera in that one. i didn't take that picture.

there will be no funeral. that's how dsyfunctional we are. not even a memorial service. nothing. my father won't have it. i'm told she spent her last days worrying that the wrong person would get her royal albert china. (i suspect her greatest fear was that i had been secretly coveting it all these years) i have this information second-hand, because, being her least favorite person in the world, it seemed wisest just to stay away. as my presence seemed always to be a catalyst for trouble of some kind, i didn't visit her during those days. and i don't want the china.

it seems that the death of an abusive parent is no easier than that of a good 'un. some say, even harder.

Mona Lisa of the frozen north

i meant to post a picture of the windows. as proof that i at least make an effort to keep new year's resolutions, i'd planned to put an image of the windows i painted in lieu of hanging drapes. (resolution being to make time for creative expression) when i painted the walls i took down the hideous clattering plastic vertical blinds that came with the place. i had to do something for privacy, as my biggest window faces about a dozen other condos. so i mixed some of the same latex paint that went on the walls with liquid dish soap and painted botanicals on the windows, white on white. the dish soap trick was learned years ago when i supplemented my meagre living by doing seasonal window painting for local businesses. it makes the paint spread smoothly on the glass, gives a slightly translucent look, depending on the soap/paint ratio, and makes cleanup much easier.

as i perused prospective painted window pictures i couldn't resist posting this one instead. much more interesting than just a pane of glass with some paint on it....

the lovely mona lisa upstaging my humble efforts (seen behind her) is my daughter, having a glass of wine with me on her birthday, just before joining her spouse and a crowd of friends for a party. the darlin' granddaughter had a sleepover with grandma that night.

Resolution time

someone gave me one of those 'Chicken Soup for the Soul' books for Christmas.... on a Christmas theme. i was a little low before i read it. now i'm seriously depressed. why did i read it at all? i know i don't like those books. i hate stories of people gushing about how a single random act of kindness changed their lives. and i have a really dysfunctional family, so stories of the perfect family christmas celebration don't do much for me either. i think i was hoping the book would cheer me up, but it had the opposite effect. maybe i'm just jealous of those writers and their family gatherings and longstanding traditions. am i too cynical to appreciate what they're trying to say?

but, much as i regret reading the thing, it has made me face my despondency. since i lost one of my dearest friends last spring, i've been in and out of depression. up and down like a roller coaster. it's not going away on its own, so i guess i'll have to do something about it. working harder hasn't helped. no surprise, but that's always been my first choice for dealing with problems. work harder. in fact, one of the first things my 'executive coach' said to me, in our first session was, "you work too hard. what are you hiding from?"

i replied, "well, life, obviously." but we all know hiding from life doesn't make it go away.

so, be it resolved that granny has some problems she needs to work through; 2011 shall be the year of excavation into the deep and dark realms of the soul. it might get ugly. there's some nasty stuff down there.

one of the deep dark issues is trust. i'm not good at it. and, frankly there are some sound reasons for that. but human beings are wired to trust. we can't have meaningful relationships without it. with anyone. by best relationship right now is with my dog. i love my dog, but he hasn't solved my loneliness.

for me, writing is therapy. writing about things helps me work through them. but there are big trust issues with letting anyone else read what i write. is it enough just to write it, or is sharing the information part of the therapy?

Resolution #1

make writing about emotional issues a priority. regularly, and in a disciplined way.

another issue is marital status. 8 years ago, on new year's day, my husband dumped me. it was never explained, and technically, we're still married. this needs to be cleared up. i need some understanding of what was going on in his mind, and why he did it. and i need a divorce.

Resolution #2

contact the ex. request an explanation. notify him that i want a divorce. begin divorce proceedings.

another issue - i don't seem able to rest, or allow myself leisure time. is this avoidance, or just habit? there are things i used to love doing, that i won't allow myself time to do now. even my music is always related to teaching or an upcoming gig. can i do it just for pleasure?

Resolution #3

remember how to rest, and to play. then do it.

....all very personal stuff, but i guess i'm a bit self absorbed right now.

on a lighter note, i have a christmas story for you.

i call it 'Ada's Christmas Apple'

Ada lived next door to me years ago. She was probably in her mid 90's when she told me this - a tiny bird of a woman with huge, strong hands, clear blue eyes and a thick shock of shining silver curls that seemed to have a life of their own, always in mild disarray.

we were standing outside in the yard chatting, as we often did. it was just a little before Christmas. i must have made some comment about gift giving. that was all the invitation Ada needed to start a rant on the blatant and thoughtless commercialism of the season. then she said, "i'll tell you a little story, about the one of the best Christmas gifts i ever had."

and she did. here's my paraphrase of Ada's story:

Ada was one of 10 children... the youngest, i believe. her father died when she was very small, leaving her mother to provide a home and basic necessities for those 10 children. she worked as a laundress, did sewing and mending, and had a small farm, where she raised some chickens and grew a huge garden.

now, Christmas was a big event for Ada's family. the small clapboard house was always fragrant with baking and pine boughs and secrets for many days before the final festive day. she didn't know how her mama did it, but there was always a special meal, and a gift for everyone, every christmas. the children would also team up to make gifts for each other from bits of wood or yarn or fabric, and everyone loved the giving as much as the receiving. on a prosperous year, there would even be raisins and sugar for baking. this particular year was not a prosperous year, but not one of those 10 children questioned whether there would be a gift from Mother in everyone's stocking on Christmas morning.

when she and her sisters woke that morning, in the big bed they all shared, their thoughts were united. with smiles and giggles, they joined the boys downstairs where everyone had hung a stocking the night before. the stockings weren't anything fancy. just the same nondescript woolen stockings Mother always knit for them all to wear through the winter. some were darned and patched, but all were clean and in good repair. and from the top of every child's stocking a bright new pair of mittens was peeking out. Ada's were the cheeriest red she could imagine. she pulled them out excitedly and put them on. the color alone was enough to keep her warm on the coldest day.

but, wait, there was something else! the toe of the stocking was still weighted down. as she reached her small hand down into the warm stocking she could see her brother, beside her, pulling something up from the toe of his stocking. her fingers closed around the smooth, firm, cool skin of an apple, just as she saw another just like it in her brother's hand. a whole fresh apple! all to herself! where had Mother got them from? none of them had seen a fresh apple in months. even the dried apples in the muslin sack in the pantry were nearly gone by now. a whole fresh red apple - and there was one for each of them! they didn't even have to share!

most of the apples were gone before breakfast even began, crunched up and practically inhaled immediately. a few of the kids saved their apples until after breakfast. one or two even saved theirs for later in the day. but not Ada. she put her apple carefully in the pocket of her apron and carried it with her all day. it was there when she put on her coat and lovely new mitts to bring in the kindling for the woodstove later that day. it was in her pocket as they ate their simple feast later in the day, and it was still in her apron pocket, bumping a gentle reminder against her leg, as she went upstairs to bed that night. she put it under her pillow and slept breathing its sweet scent.

the next morning, Ada's first thought as she opened her eyes was for her apple. she reached for it under her pillow, but it wasn't there! none of her sisters seemed to be awake. had one of them come across it in the night? had someone found and eaten her precious apple? surely no one would be so cruel? no, there it was..... just beyond her toe at the foot of the bed - a cool lump at her feet.

well, that wasn't the place to keep it. she'd have to think of something better for tonight. so, all day, as she did her chores, the apple, once again safely in her apron pocket, bumped companionably against her leg. but she worried about the best place to put it. if she just left it out somewhere in the house, someone would be sure to think she didn't want it. she couldn't put it outside. it would freeze in the sub-zero temperatures. if she put it in the barn, the chickens or another creature would find it, and they would certainly eat it. then, as she placed the kindling in the box near the stove, she spied the loose board behind the stove, on the wall between the kitchen and parlor. behind it was the place perfect for a lovely, juicy apple. not cold enough to freeze, but cool enough that the apple wouldn't spoil quickly.

so that was where Ada secreted her treasure away each night before she went up to bed with her sisters, carefully pulling the board away just enough to place her treasure gently between the studs of the wall. in the morning, as she did her chores, she would retrieve it, lovingly returning it to her apron pocket for the day, to ride along and bump a quiet reminder to her of her delicious secret. and now and then, when she had an opportunity, she went alone to the barn, where she climbed the ladder to the hayloft. she would find a comfy spot in the hay, all the better if there was a sunbeam to enjoy. she'd gently pull her shining red apple from her apron pocket - almost exactly the color of her beautiful new mittens! and she'd breathe deeply the succulent sweetness of it. she'd roll it on her cheeks, feeling the perfect, smooth coolness of it. she'd hold it in the sunbeam and admire it from all angles - top and bottom, all around its delicious firmness.

she did this for more than a week.

well, Ada was not very old then, but she was old enough to know that apples don't keep forever. so she was watching for signs that it was losing its freshness. she knew that spoiled apples are not at all good to eat, and she had every intention of eating this one. when she could see subtle indications that her apple would soon be past its best, she made yet another trip to the barn. she climbed the loft and found her favorite comfy spot in the hay, right where a bright sunbeam liked to be at that time of day. she looked her apple over very carefully, memorizing everything about it. she rolled it all over her face, loving the feel of it against her skin. she took many, many deep breaths, trying to store some of that sweet scent inside herself for the remainder of the long winter.

and she bit into that apple, with the biggest bite her small mouth could manage. she chewed slowly, savoring the juicy sweetness that filled her mouth, and the explosion of apple scent that escaped into the air. another bite, savored slowly, and another, and another, till there was only the core. and she ate that too, licking every finger carefully so no drop of flavor was lost.

for weeks after, every time she filled the kindling box, Ada smiled fondly at the loose board in the wall which had protected her treasure every night, and she missed the weight of it in her apron pocket.

but Ada never forgot the simple gift of a fresh apple on a farm in a northern alberta winter during the first decade of the 20th century. and she couldn't believe that any of the brightly wrapped gifts under any Christmas tree in 1990 could mean as much to any child as that apple had meant, and continued to mean to her.

ice fog

... tiny ice crystals suspended in the sub zero air. it looks like fog, but it's intensely cold, and the pale rising sun hasn't strength to burn it off.

i've been signed on for 'Executive Coaching'. it's a bit foggy too.... leadership training with a fancy name, really... and a fancy price tag to go with it. fortunately, the national office and my local board are paying for it, and the 'coach' contributes a sizable discount, in support of Habitat. i'm remembering some things about myself, being reminded of things about the society i live in. and i'm getting an uneasy feeling that 'corporate' leadership has some unsettling manipulative qualities about it. semantics become very important. if we are to persuade people to behave in the ways we want them to, we must never make them feel defensive. if we are to channel them in the directions we wish them to go, we cannot 'challenge' them, but must 'suggest' and .... coerce, really.

i was in a meeting earlier today with a 'facilitator' who used exactly that kind of language and behavior modification. and i thought, 'how politically correct her speech is. how cautious, how flavorless and insipid." i don't want to be like that.

but my board DOES need some leadership. we need to do some long range planning, and it's the Executive Director's job (good grief, that's me!) to initiate that and oversee it. so, ok.... i can spell moderation, but i'm still learning how to practice it. there are skills i need to learn. but i'm damned if i'll be some bland mealy mouth with secret motives.

mainstream lifestyle is not something i strive for. i cringe at the SUV's and monster houses, at the latest fashions in luxury lifestyles. i've never owned a new vehicle or had a manicure in my life. i'm not attracted to the artifice that seems to be a requirement for 'respectability'. not that new vehicles or manicures are a bad thing.... but they and their ilk have become the measures by which society judges its members. not that i don't appreciate craftsmanship and quality, but these things too are judged through the grimy lens of artifice, and seem to have value only if they carry a large dollar value, or are 'impressive'. some folk don't seem able even to recognize quality or value without an attending price sticker.

my challenge (oops, not supposed to use that word) is to be respected and listened to in a society whose values, for the most part, i reject. i'm expected to bring about change in this society, for the benefit of an organization i passionately believe is making the world a better place. how do i do that without prostituting myself, and with integrity and kindness?

it's back

the bloody awful stinking cold is back. already. a couple of weeks ago i was walking along the creekside trails with the dog, shuffling lovely fallen leaves in the autumn sunshine and loving life. but winter has returned suddenly and without preamble. there's already 6 or 8 inches of snow. we're expecting -30 tonight, and it's only November. i was out crawling around under the radiator of my truck in the dark last night, hunting for the cord to the block heater. how does it always manage to disappear over summer, and why is always it black as an oil company CEO's heart outside the first winter's eve when i realize that i have to plug in the truck? i think i plugged it in twice last winter, it was that mild. and certainly not before late in December. my heart quails at the thought of what it will be like in February, after a start like this. and what my utility bills will be like if it's this danged cold all winter.

i hate winter. as my joints get older and creakier i hate it more and more. if we were meant to live in cold we'd have lovely thick pelts.

which brings me to one of life's pleasant diversions. the lovely dog. he's turning in to a very nice boy. he now weighs 35 lb (@6 months old, so some growing to do yet), and had his first trip to the groomer's today, in order to excavate for eyes. as he's a 'non-shedding' breed, his hair grows continually, so he needs regular haircuts. he's so wiggly and friendly, i don't dare go anywhere near his face with a pair of scissors. i can manage to trim his main parts, but i'm fearful of blinding him if i attempt facial hair. so, off he went, and made a whole bunch of new friends there. the down side of the lovely dog, which i should have twigged on long before i did, is that he needs to be walked. several times a day. which has been most pleasant so far. but the thing i didn't foresee, and really should have, was the walking him in the bloody awful cold. i hate the cold. he, however, seems to love it. if i were more like him, and had several inches of thick, curly R40 fluff all over my body, and webbed feet that appear to serve as excellent snowshoes, i might be less grumpy about it, but, no matter how long i go without shaving my various body parts that are inclined to sprout fur, i'll never have an R factor of more than .05, and my matronly physique sinks through, straight to bedrock the minute i place a foot on the wretched white stuff. "think positively", i tell myself. spring is only 5 or 6 months away.... maybe 150 or 200 sleeps. oh god, that's forever. if i don't freeze to death, i'll die of old age before it warms up.

another hopeful diversion was a Canadian Home Builders' Association jury i was asked to sit on, to determine the winners of the annual awards for excellence in home building. i was really excited about this, thinking there would be some innovative, imaginative, exciting homes. well, there might be..... i didn't actually get to see the homes. i got to spend 4 hours wading through several dozen binders full of pictures of homes, in a room in a high rise with a wall of glass that bled every BTU that may have originated in my proximity to the sub arctic outside. kept my coat on the whole time and wished i'd worn my hoody, snow packs and long johns instead of 'official personage' garb. i guess the photos are meant to streamline the process, which used to take most of a week to actually visit every entry. but i couldn't make out anything really exciting from the photos.... and the real disappointment was that the judging criteria made no mention of innovative building techniques, materials or designs. nor any suggestion that there may be value in environmentally sustainable materials or methods. zero mention. in bloody NORTHERN ALBERTA where it's regularly THIRTY OR FORTY BELOW ZERO for grueling months on end, and there's real value in building with energy savings in mind. some builders made mention of energy conscious features they'd built in, but there was no criteria for giving credit for doing it. and, most disappointing of all, they were pretty much all the same. 'higher' categories were just bigger, with more expensive materials. pretty much the same styles, very little variation in floorplan. it was very clear what's 'in' these days, cuz they all had it. my little bitty low budget condo done in discounted and recycled materials is more interesting than any one of them. builders in this town are just plain boring. it's all about the status quo, which is mediocre and conservative at best. certainly not cheap, with granite countertops and exotic woods, but everything looked the same. builders seem to think everyone WANTS their homes to look the same, and i suppose they're right.... they build what sells. blah.

but this isn't just a rant. there's good news too. i've convinced my board (with winter budget control in mind) to reduce my hours to 4 days a week for Dec, Jan & Feb, which is very exciting. i've nearly got all the bits and odds (how can one person possibly have so much STUFF?! i downsized before i moved!!) sorted into their appropriate rooms (except the basement, but we wont go there.... unless laundry needs URGENTLY to be done) and am working on final trim and lights, etc to finish things up. the creative juices begin to flow. will post a shot of windows i painted white-on-white for a sort of frosted glass look, in lieu of draperies when i took the hideous clattering vinyl vertical blinds down in the living room.

once i get the trim all done, and ugly 'boob' lights replaced, i see quilts, watercolor painting and calligraphy in my future. i've already started my first batch of home made soap.

if you tell anyone i said this, i'll swear you're lying, but.... there's a possibility i might even start cooking real food again.

sparklies

Every now and then we get something really unique at the ReStore. the photo doesn't do this justice. it's about 2 1/2 feet across, and made up of hundreds of hand cut lead crystals. a staff member insisted on taking it home to individually polish every one of those crystals, as it was filthy when it showed up, in pieces, in a cardboard box in the trunk of someone's car.

when she arrived at work a couple of mornings later, she was grinning from ear to ear as she called to us from the door, "Wanna see something really special?"

so off we all toddled behind her, in the bright morning sunlight to see what she was on about. she lead us proudly to the back door of her beat up little car, which she opened with a flourish and a beaming face. +

no kidding, it was blinding. she had somehow carefully balanced it upside down on a pylon to keep it in one piece for the journey, and as the sun hit all those faceted crystals, the whole inside of her car lit up with rainbows.

can't you see this in some funky little place with a patchwork quilt thrown over the couch, and an overstuffed armchair? or maybe in a bright little bathroom with a high ceiling and a clawfoot tub? a teen girl's bedroom with a faux zebra skin coverlet......

when it arrived, we were certain the 'crystals' were acrylic, or, at best, glass. they just looked awful and cheap, all dirty in that cardboard box. but, holy crow! they're the real deal.