(june 17, 2004)

This year my blog is old enough to get its driver's license.  Sixteen years of digital records.   

When I started it, it was a place to put my travel adventures as I got ready to head to Togo, West Africa.  A few years before I had traveled to East Africa and done a series of newsletters-all in the time before things like mail chimp existed to sort and send bulk messages... half the messages would bounce back, and it being 2001 at the time, my hotmail account would have a hissyfit and stop functioning.  I figured that on this trip, I'd save myself some grief and let folks come to me if they wanted to know what was happening. 

Writing has always been a thing for me, I started journaling in grade five after reading Anne Frank, "what if this becomes the only living record of the greatest upcoming world tragedy?"  

Ha.

I literally wrote 14 full journals about boys and horses and really vanilla teen drama between the ages of 12 and 18. 

Very useful.

But, here we are. 

My style continues to change, things that are important to me continue to change. I edit out most of the stuff about boys and horses (now bees) and drama.

Writing.

The most constant thing in my entire life. 

I'm thankful for it. 

craving

I dreamt of touch

And hammerhead sharks

Swimming in your livingroom 

I opened the door and let them free

A sideways smile as they slipped by to the street

We sat as old friends do

Limbs over limbs

A gentle hand resting

The weight of intimacy 

Even in dreamland, oxytocin healing

Edits

I dreamt of touch

And hammerhead sharks

Swimming in your livingroom 

I opened the door and let them free

Sideways smile shared 

Slipping to the street

We sat as old friends do

Limbs over limbs over limbs

A hand resting

The weight of intimacy 

Healing

I don't like the last line. But I hate the sound of the word "oxytocin". Though that's exactly what happened in the dream, that pulse of hormone from touch. 

more nerding

One more bee nerd out post. 

To make up for lost time. 

On Wednesday I went in to inspect the 3 hives that got new queens (was that just 2 days ago?). 2 of the 3 were rejected, or killed, or not laying, or something. Hive #4  had an emergency cell already capped, but not attended? So that's a day 7 brood at least, if it's still alive... earliest I'll see eggs is June 6th. That's not too bad? If it lives I mean? I gave that hive one frame of day old eggs and mixed aged brood, just to keep the "open larvae " smell going on, and give them another opportunity to make a new queen if that one has already failed. 

Same deal with hive #11, minus the queen cell. I gave them a frame of mostly eggs. 

The other hive was #6, it had been a smallish sized cluster when I did my first check this spring. They must have lost their queen in February, there were a couple of youngish bees in the mix. They took that queen and she's laying. 

If it wasn't for the fact these girls are selling for $58 a pop, I'd be ok. 

I'll try to make up some nucs with swarm cells next week. I should be able to get two, I have 2 hives that should have been split, I just didnt have the queens for them. 

nerding out about bees

For something that has taken over my life the last 4+ years (and occupied brain space for decades before then), I have never really posted about beekeeping here.

Super weird. 

I'm thankful for a sidehustle/hobby that has nothing to do with everyday life.  One that allows my brain to fully shut the outside world out and allows me to be fully present in a moment. 

What is it about opening a hive that shuts the crazy off? From the liturgy of setting the smoker- each step building for the perfect thick cool smoke, flame, bank, smoke, bank, bellows bellows bellows. To the first crack of the hive body, propolis snapping or bending. Listening carefully, is it the gentle hum of a healthy hive? Or the roar of an unsettled/unbalanced colony? The scents... wax, propolis, honey, the bees themselves. The vibrations, the tiny feet across my fingers and hands. The stilling of bees on a frame, the queen dragging her body, pushing through the crowd of workers. The perfect "wall to wall" laying pattern. 

The problem solving. Sorting it as I go. 

They are everything. 

Inspection notes for this week:

Finally some weather cooperation! I was able to get the last foulbrood treatment onto the hives today, and made a few splits.

I lost half my hives again this winter. Only one starved to death- and I kind of knew going into winter that that particular hive was likely going to have issues. It was FULL of bees in October, and they had eaten most of their stores by then. I'd even fed them supplimentally, and had given them frames of honey in September.  Really sad, she was such a pretty queen, no stripes, and so blonde. 

Two other hives went queenless probably in November/December, and then 3 hives that I have no explanation for. Those are the frustrating ones. 

I had ordered 5 queens for spring splits, but with the pandemic, the queens I ordered didn't come in. They were from Chile and they are a bit of a hot spot in terms of the virus right now. I was given some Californians instead, but they cost an extra $20... $58 per queen!! Crazy money. Just. Ug. Queens from California,  I dont know when they shipped, and I didn't stop to feed them before popping them in their new hives. 

1) queen right, bottom box brood, empty top box. Check in 1 week

2) Natural split, in original location, give frame of brood next week

3) queen right, could be split next week

4) split with new queen on frame 4 check on 18/19th to see if queen was released/if shes laying. 

5) empty 

6) was a queenless hive (but no roar), given 2 frames brood/eggs last week, no emergency cells, no eggs, no brood. Gave it new queen, and 2 more frames of brood. Check on 18/19th

7) empty

8) queen right, split moved to this location. 

9) Kim's hive, queen right, new brood box, undrawn comb.

10) empty

11) small hive, queen right. Could leave it for 2 weeks. 

12) split very strong, new queen, check 18/19th.

Plan? Watch for swarm cells, build a nuc or 2 out of swarm cells. See if I can get local queens early if not. 

touchless

A hollow feeling

Gnawing 

Do I roll into myself

what's left of my shell

But these toes in soil

Fingers woven through roots

Saturation by tears

Green from dry pods

The life I can touch

Growth

- I wasn't ready today for the actual gut wrenching pain from not being able to touch someone. I stopped to drop off some equipment for repairs at the home of an old friend. She's been in and out of my life since we were in our early teens. I saw her and without hesitating said "I really wish I could give you a hug right now", then dissolved into tears. Masks are good for at least some dignity I suppose. 

And the thing is, she's been playing safe, I've been playing safe. But I could not vouch that everyone in my circle (work mostly) has made those same safe choices. And I could not deal with the guilt that would come from giving the virus to her or by proxy, her children. 

So my chest squeezed with the pain, the tears rolled down my face and I went another day without connection. 

This is absolutely the worst part of the whole situation. 

Fucking pandemic. 

week 9

Pandemic life, week nine. 

This one has been a sad week. Random tears, lots of them. Some warranted... some hormones.... others, part of the grieving process. Grieving the loss of normalcy.  

We're all dealing however we can. As usual, I'm not looking for sympathy,  just an outlet... 

Mother's day was this weekend. That one is a hard one at the best of times, it definitely added to the current feeling of loss.

 I've been struggling with the feeling of a loss of independence a lot lately too. So much of my life is reliant on the actions of others right now. Wrapped up in work, house building, day to day activities. I feel like I have so little control over so many things. 

On the lighter side,  I let my pandemic-boyfriend "go" this week. A relationship that wasn't really a relationship,  just two lonely people leaning on eachother for interactions. I started referring to him as "pandemic-boyfriend" as a joke. I had this nice idea in my mind, "wouldn't it be wonderful to find love in the middle of a pandemic?"... but realized I was putting pressure and expectations on someone without including them in the conversation. And, while it started as a personal joke (he is the KING of mixed messages), I noticed that I was placing more of my emotional needs on something that wasn't real... and therefore allowed myself to get hurt when it wasn't reciprocated... which obviously was going to happen as I'd made this entire thing up in my mind without including "pandemic-boyfriend" in the relationship.

Whew! "Pandemic-boyfriend" has been equal parts hilarious and exhausting.  

I am so good at pretend and built-up relationships! 

This is what happens when I'm left to my own devices for too long. I become a 14 year old girl. 

I need to double down and read some new books... get myself out of my brain for a bit! 

things Jimmy says

I have a sweet and wonderful coworker. "Jimmy" is kind and funny, and sometimes just misses the point. 

Jimmy mixes her metaphors. Jimmy has misheard and often misuses phrases. Jimmy might have snoozed through some portions of school. The results are charming and hilarious and true.  I've been writing them down in a note on my cell phone for years. 

Here are some of my favourites, on a rainy/snowy May day where my heart is full of sad and needs some silly joy. 

"They are not the sharpest tool in the crayon box"

L: My friend is in Ecuador 

Jimmy:  where's that? 

L: South America

Jimmy: like Australia?

L: more like south America

Jimmy: is that the United States?

L: Not really, we are in North America with the US, then there's Central and below that, South America. 

Jimmy: oh. Ok. That makes sense. I just found out Africa was an island. Wait. Not Africa, Australia.

L: It's good to keep learning.

Jimmy: I learn new things every day.

 "so, I know there aren't any on the moon, but are there people living on Mars? Didn't they go there last year?"

"when you rent something, you get the money back right?"

L: what type of pop do you like?

Jimmy: I don't like carbon. 

(With frustration) You guys are frigging childs!

(A few minutes later) I think the word I wanted to use there was "immature".

that's a crack of shit

I have to tell you a question

Wait... can they do brain transplants? Do they do those?

(Pause)

How would that work? Like... would you get new memories?

Wait... what's a Wombat... bat? So like.. do they fly?

"Since it's gluten free, that means it's better for us right?"

L: He's Korean.

Jimmy: so, Korean isn't Chinese right? 

L: right.

Jimmy: but is Korean Asian?

L: yup! 

Jimmy: I'm just figuring these things out.

And a long one, an exchange about aging and food "issues" with Jimmy and N. 

L: do you think it could be an allergy?

N: no, I think I'm lactose, like I only have problems when I have like cheese and eggs and toast.

L : (muttering something under her breath about allergies/intolerances and "lactose intolerance", not "I'm lactose")  : but what about when you don't have toast?

N: same thing

L: what about when you only have eggs?

N: I buy lactose free cheese, but not eggs. 

Jimmy: I found out last year that eggs aren't dairy

N: Wait? What? They aren't?

L: blink blink blink (looks back and forth between the two and realizes they are serious)

Jimmy: yeah I always thought they were because of that pyramid 

N: Yeah they are dairy aren't they? Because of that pyramid thingy that they just changed.

L: Do you mean the canada food guide?

N/J: yeah that one

Jimmy: When they changed it, that's when I figured it out. 

L: I think you have an egg allergy.  

Jimmy: getting old sucks.

the bright side of the moon

There's this weird thing about pandemic life too, I mean, beyond this crazy new world that we are living in, lock-down. 

There's this part where technology allows us to touch base with people we never thought would be a part of our lives (again). 

Tonight I had a group meeting online with the women I went to university with (and Mark/M.Do). 

University friends... the first real friends you make who aren't based on proximity.  The people you actually choose to befriend. The ones who fit you so well. Who challenge and uplift you. The people most likely to "get" you. 

But they are also the friends you are most likely to drift away from.. your time together is too short, and those bonds are stretched by time, distance and life changes. 

Talking with these ladies was so easy. We haven't been together in that full group in 20 years.  We've known eachother as long as we haven't known eachother. 

While I felt the old imposter syndrome settle in a for a second or two, for the most part I was simply me, enjoying time with people who got me. 

Actual conversations.  

It felt so good. 

Bits of brightness. 

There's a full moon tonight. It's going below zero again. The spring peepers are silent. And the bucket feeders all lost their vaccum seals on the hives, so I pulled them off before they drowned all the bees. Now I just hope they don't freeze or starve to death. 

2020... Australian fires, covid-19, aliens, Asian Hornets, polar vortex. 

early spring

Buffet for the senses.

Evenings of breathing so deeply I'm near to hyperventilation 

Earthy dampness, nostrils flared

Rain on warm soil

Worms on the sidewalk,  Catkins dropped on the lawn

Sticky Beech tree buds 

Robins, Redwing blackbirds

And the peepers. 

real dealz

This is a hard week. 

Finishing up week 6 of social distancing/social isolation (aside from work and essential shopping trips) 

I know, every week I've said "this is a hard week". Well, they get harder apparently.  

I'm guessing 4 more weeks. If not 5 before the state of emergency is called off. 

I'm mostly hanging out in my room so I don't take offence to anything anyone says, and so I don't say anything that might offend someone else. 

Because it's far too easy for both to happen, and it's not intentional. 

pandemic confessionals

We'll call this "part 1"

A furtherance to "Thursday confessionals", which I've mostly been on a break from the last year or so. Not because I'm not doing stupid shit, it's because I don't remember to write them down and I forget them too quickly. 

Pandemic confessional,  I checked everywhere (in the mirror) before I left the house, but all I could smell was peanut butter.  

It was on my sunglasses.

‐-

Pandemic confessional, well at least my FOMO is gone.

--

The new book I'm writing:

Granny pants, tights, sweatshirts and bra-less; how a pandemic gave women back comfortable clothing.

Byline: that's probably mustard.

--

Pandemic confessional,  links closely with yesterday's post about pandemic styles: tights are not pants. Yesterday I forgot to put a skirt on over pandemic tights before going to town for supplies. "Thankfully" it was snowing so I had my long winter coat on over them.

--

Alternating wildly between "people are the worst" and "people are the best". You, my friends, are the latter. 

(Most of you)

--

Swinging wildly between "I will stay away from all social media for my mental health" and "I haven't refreshed my apps in the last 20seconds... what am I missing???"   

*shakes fist at virus*

--

the little camo trailer.

I've been thinking about trailer life a lot the last few weeks. 

There's a high possibility that I could be moving out there again. For sanity's sake. For space, for ... Yeah. No, really that's the only reason. Space. 

Physical and emotional. 

This is a tiny apartment.

But for sanity's sake... I don't know if I can take it. Last fall when i moved out, I was ready to burn the fucker down as i closed the door behind me. It's a tough way to live, and kudos to those who choose to do it long term. 

No running water, no electricity, no fridge, no real cooking space, no actual sitting space. Running out of data on the first week of my cycle. Random areas of the trailer with no reception. No shower. Lugging jugs of water for drinking and cleaning. Everything damp all the time, bugs. Dear sweet baby jesus... the spiders and ants. FLYING ANTS IN MY BED. Spiders running across my face as I fall asleep. The mice. 

The chewing mice. 

The pooping and peeing mice. 

The dog fur.

The bed, slightly off kilter... the entire trailer tilted. My band, "heavy cheese poops and the blue splashback" aka "justin" aka the "just in time porta potty".

There are some great parts to it too. I don't need to be quiet getting up in the morning in the trailer. Once I got lights in the trailer I was able to read late at night, and I could have all the lights on when I woke up (again.. this is a very tiny apartment). Not worrying about what sort of mood everyone is in. The garden just a few feet away. I am so much more active when I live on our land, with no real difference between indoor and out, I'm always puttering doing something. All the fresh air. Tromping around with the dog. Up early. Falling asleep tired. Sleeping on my own bed (mattress)... sleeping in anything other than the twin bunk beds that I currently fight. The quiet. The fireflies. The butterflies. The rhythm of the land around me. 

I don't know. 

Do the pros outweigh the cons?

I don't have an answer. 

But I don't want to live in the fucking trailer. I want to live in my house. Insert temper tantrum here. 

I remember how excited I was was I got the trailer from Mikey. The first year and a half with all his shit still in the bathroom/storage area. That first cleaning out of the trailer... oh man. It was so gross. Heck, the adventure trying to drag that thing to our property! Stopping partway home because the awning bars had fallen off the side of the trailer. Gunning it in hope that it would make it up the hill on 23. 

(I'm not looking for comfort or words of encouragement,  I'm writing for me, and for a record.)

welcome back

The fuzz butt is back. 

Sweet (and slightly deranged) Rueben Henry, my buddy for the last 7 years. He's been living at a doggie daycare type place since December. For a smallish dog, he's A Lot Of Dog... the apartment I'm cohousing in with my friends is not set up well for having A Lot Of Dog. They are gracious. The amazing woman who has had Rue off and on the last 3 years (Kat) is also gracious.  

We aren't ready to move into our house yet (more on this another time) and I'm not prepared to move into the trailer yet (more on this also at another time). But I was willing to chance bringing him back to the apartment. 

This pandemic has the world upside down. I'm one of the "lucky ones" with an essential service position. I still have a pay cheque and regular hours. Luckier still, we didn't finish the house when we thought we would. If it was complete, I'd have left my essential service job for a home business. Lucky because work affords me connection with humans. Also lucky, I have housemates and I'm not alone in my home. 

But this last week, pandemic life has been hitting me hard. I've had a few bouts of tears in grief and frustration, for sure, but last week was borderline panic attacks.  The lack of touch has been eating my soul, and this last week I just hit the wall. Repeatedly.  

I'd say touch is one of my top love languages.  My last hug was March 12th. My last touch on the arm was March 12th. My last arm over a shoulder was March 12th. Cue tears, shortness of breath and a squeezing feeling in my heart.... because when the hell is this going to end? We don't know. 

Someone said to me the other day "what if after this, people don't touch any more?" I was thankful it was a text conversation,  I just sat there weeping. 

That's when I decided,  Ruerue is home. He might be hiding from me a little... some social distancing... because I keep picking him up and squeezing him while making happy squealing noises. But at least now there's touch. And while I still tear up thinking about not touching, not being touched, at least I can breathe. 

people in your neighbourhood

Two days ago I was driving home and thought to myself "ha! I've made it nearly two years without getting into the newspaper!"  An accomplishment,  sort of, for a community building type person, but also a giant check valve for me... I've been so wrapped up in building a house, I'm not participating in community, let alone building it. 

Today I received interview questions by email. Which made me laugh. 

Now, they aren't for the paper.. do we even have a paper anymore? But they are for a journalism project for someone that I know. 

G: Can you tell me about a person that is important to you in your life and why?

Me: My dear friend Amanda. I am blessed to have a tremendous circle of friends, but she showed up at just the right time in my life and in just the right ways.

 My mom passed away maybe 10 months before I met Manda, (the details are hazy) maybe it was a year? My long time friends just didn't know what to do with me and my seemingly unending grief. Manda sort of swooped in and let me grieve while we went on random adventures.  She gave me space to experience joy even while my heart was bleeding all over. 

G: What is a fond memory that sicks in your mind, and why?  

Me: Late summer for years, a small group of some of my favourite people gathered for a weekend of canning in the backyard.  It's exhausting work, it's hot and tiresome. We would make playlists and share them, stories were told, there were dance breaks, poems, a campfire, and more than a few tears. Someone would show up with food. At the end of it we would each walk away with boxes filled with jars of salsa and ketchup, tomato sauce, and chili sauce.

from outerspace

It's the middle (beginning? End?) Of pandemic times. 

I'm feeling it all. 

Every emotion at the same time, and I think everyone is... but I want to scream and pout and all that just the same. 

I'm one of the "lucky" ones. I'm still an essential service. But every day is fucking scary. Today I set up a "donning and doffing station" for personal protective equipment (which for some reason my boss keeps locked in her office) for when the people I support get sick. It will eventually happen. I can't control everyone. 

I've really been doing ok. Overall. I mean, it's been such a long time since I wrote anything down,  I'm not sure where to start. 

This week has been hard. Waves of grief and longing. 

My last physical touch... human contact, a hug, was March 12th. 34 days ago.  That should be fine. But with the prospect of this dragging on for another couple of months, I just start blinking the tears every hour or so. Fine one second, soggy sleeves the next. 

I have housemates. I'm lucky in that I have a bit of interaction. 3 years into cohousing/cobuilding stress.

We're all dealing the best we can, and that means dealing.... the best we can. (No blame, I imagine I must be frustrating) 

I don't have a point. I don't have a fun twist to wrap this up with. 

I'm sad. I'm lonely. I'm tired. 

I hate people and I miss people.