Witness to a crime

I love a late night walk.
I've seen the entirety of town beneath the streetlights.

Friends from less safe cities shudder at the thought of walking the streets after midnight. They worry.

A few weeks ago, not too late...  I was walking the town, bratty dog at my side,  when I was witness to a crime.

Sort of.

Standing outside the store was a young man in a hoodie. Hoodie up, face covered by shadows, smoking. He threw the butt on the ground, glanced over his shoulder and scurried in the shop door. It was weird. Nearly midnight on a friday. There were no cleaning vans parked nearby.
I looked closer, there were more figures lurking about in the store's shadows!

I slowed our pace. I didn't know what to do... do I call the cops? Do I call one of the store's employees? I tried to take a closer look.

There was something.. off. I mean, I try not to categorize people, I try not to think in terms of stereotypes... but one of the guys looked suspiciously like the guy from the computer store... and one looked like the guy from a rival trivia team who works at a local internet provider... one was drinking a bottle of pop. These guys were more geek than hoodlum.

But why were they lurking around in the dark in a bookstore?

I watched for a little while and decided that they probably weren't stealing things, or at least they weren't causing damage.

The next morning I mentioned what I'd seen to one of the store's employees.

Did you know there's Dungeons and Dragons group that meets on friday nights at the bookstore?

*edit to add: or maybe it's "magic, the gathering" *  

Still

Summer is finally here.

Late night walks with the dog are so much better than those past without one. I need to remember that when I'm complaining about him.

My town is asleep. Monday night at 12am.

I haven't seen a car or heard another person's foot falls in nearly 30 minutes.  Eerie.
A train grumbles and rattles it's way across the bridge.

I can't tell where my skin ends and the air begins.

The air doesn't move. Hot. Damp. Perfumed.

Lengths of my hair that didn't get caught up in my elastic are curling into spirals.
I reach up and pull on them, feel them bounce back. "Boing"... I even say it out loud. Thank you Ramona Quimby age 8, I'm never going to outgrow that joy.

We choose the side streets, overgrown sidewalks and alleyways, detour to go under low hanging trees, stop and smell every flowering bush, inspect yardsale leftovers... walk with the eyes of toddlers because the whole town is sleeping and we don't care.

a lesson in patience

This morning I was excited.
I woke up early ready to go get my new car... I woke up early and discovered I'd forgotten to buy dog food too.

My appointment at the bank- for the car- wasn't scheduled till noon but my dog demanded food, so I wandered my way downtown. Too early for the bank. Too early for even the dog food.
I reached into my wallet and discovered my secret stash.

I've been making sure I always carry two bucks for the bus. Just in case. Somehow I've gone 8 months without a vehicle and haven't taken the bus once. I mean, I've tried to take the bus. I've gone to stand at a bus stop only to be picked up by a friend along the way. So my two dollars in coin has sat in my pocket/change purse for months... I decided to bid it farewell.

I bought myself a fancy coffee and waited for the pet food store to open.

And it started to rain.

And I thanked my lucky stars that I was picking up my new car today so I wasn't going to get wet in that rain.

And I got my dog food.

And later I went to the bank.

And my car wasn't ready... so I rode my bike in the rain.

Again.

 At least the coffee was worth it.

Hitch in my stride

I woke up on Tuesday morning and nearly rolled head over arse down the stairs from the loft... all 16 of them...  I counted them as I clung for my life on the bannister.

It was like my leg/butt muscles weren't talking to my brain.
My hip wanted to send my leg in one direction, and the tendons would say "heck no".

Sitting for hours in a car and then sprinting across the field in snowshoes was a poor choice.

Self note: yoga or stretching after such a trip is a good idea.


The next day I tried to give myself a heart attack by trying to snowshoe up the biggest hill in all of Grey County. Rae was a good sport and joined me. I think she was hoping I'd fall down dead so she could use me as a toboggan to get to the bottom of the hill... It nearly happened.

Self note 2: Go on these snowshoe trips solo so you can take many breaks and not feel the need to take on the world.

It's a day after the ride home, snowshoe muscles are fine.. but my butt is still beat from the long ride home.

Self note 3: The GPS knows short cuts. Take them. Also, learn to pack less stuff so there's more room in the car.

Miss Jellybean didn't take up too too much space in the car- and she made a really great lap warmer if you didn't mind that your legs would fall asleep from the weight of her.

Eve of a new year

My friend Lynnie's family has a second home/cottage outside of Owen Sound. The past few years our little circle of girfriends has gone up for a weekend in the winter.
This year, Lynnie is still living out West on Gabriola but she arraigned for us to make a visit there without her.

There's a lot of lazing around when we go out there. Woodstoves, too much food, naps, trashy magazines, too much food, old movies, knitting, endless CD sharing... but there are also kitchen dance parties, art making, hikes, and snowshoe adventures.

New Year's Eve we were feeling pretty wiped out from our long drive in, and the residuals of holiday excitements .. but one of the ladies had a great idea for an art project and we set to work on creating.
Cut, snip, paste, sketch, colour, snip, write.
We each created a piece that let go of things from the past year, forgiveness extended to ourselves and others, intentions for the next year... and then, at our decided "midnight" time, we strapped on our snowshoes and headed out into the dark with our pieces and some matches.

my first world problem

I've got something weird going on with the hot tub controls... ok, since the spring when it last got a tune up- I should have noticed then, but I didn't till like a month after the repair.

So, the temp. control is a little off... it's suppose to be that you turn the dial up to the temp that you want, the light comes on when it's heating, and shuts off when it's reached that heat. Except that there are no numbers on the dial (nor have there ever been)... SO. in the past, I learned where 101 was... and the temp would fluxuate between 100 and 103 at that setting.

Since the spring, the temp can be set at 95 (with a range of 92-95) or... the last setting on the dial, where  it won't turn off and instead heats up to it's safety shut off at 107. So, I can leave the tub at 95, and turn it up half an hour before I go out... perfect timing for it to be at around 101.... or, I can forget and go out later when it's 107... OR forget completely, and it shuts off when it gets to 107- but I'm going out the next afternoon and suddenly it's 80 because the heater shut off the night before.

Last night was a night where I forgot and went out after it'd been on for an hour... 107... which, as a friend likes to call it is a "religious experience" being in there.
My first world problem?
My hot tub is too hot.
I had to stand out in my towel in the back yard afterwards for a few minutes because I was too hot to go in the house.

Saving money for the repair... but the dog who stole christmas decided to cut her eye again last week- so it might be awhile.

new year, new things

well.. the month is done.

and I think I'm ready to stop and take a breath.

drink some tea.

visit with people I love.

stop trying to "finish".

read a book.

play with some bunnies.

plan the gardens.

listen.

it's gong to be a great year.

More Art

This is a post by the lovely Tanya Davis,

If you're interested in participating, you can send her your answers...

Sadness Survey needs you

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Thursday, October 22, 2009 at 11:29am

I think a lot about sadness.. the happy kind, the tragic kind, the vulnerable kind... I write about it, too. And sing about it. And I talk about it... sometimes. Because people don't always like to talk about sadness. Why not? I don't know. So, I'm exploring that and I;m exploring sadness in general - an alternative research project, so to speak. I'm going to include some of my findings in an audio piece I'm making as a participant in the Centre for Art Tapes Media Arts Scholarship Program. It's somewhat of a docupoem.

So, if you want to take the time to answer some of my questions, that would be quite wonderful. Any of your feedback that I end up including in my audio piece will be anonymous (although I don't know how to make your comments on my note anonymous on facebook and only for me to see.. if you want to answer the questions but don't want others to read your answers, please feel free to write to me in a provate message). And I will only be using bits and pieces of what I can collect here, in a sound mosaic.

Les questions:

1. What is sadness?

2. What does it feel like?

3. What makes you sad?

4. What do you do when you're sad? Where do you go? Who, if anyone, do you talk to?

5. Do you find sadness easy to talk about? Difficult? Why?

6. What does sadness sound like?

7. Do you cry? Do you cry easily? Do you cry often? What does that feel like?

8. When was the last time you cried? What did you cry about?

9. When were you the most sad? Why?

10. What are the different ways you experience sadness? Can you put a name to them (ex. tragic sad, tender sad, beautiful sad, depressed sad...)?

11. Do you enjoy sadness at all, ever? Why or why not?

12. Comments, extras: please feel free to include any extra points you want to make here about sadness. Or answers to questions I never asked. Or comments or little stories. I would love to hear it..

Thank you for taking the time to write about this. I very much appreciate it.

COUNTDOWN!

ok, so I left my camera somewhere today... I think it's in the car.

BUT, guess who figured out how to open up her old flickr account? mmmmhmmm, that would be me.

Sooooo, once again, it's a Monday Bunday from the Archives.

eeeeek!!! wasn't he beautiful????

ok, so the countdown... even better than talk like a pirate day my friends... even better.

19 sleeps until Nuit Blanche 2008!!!!

SooooooooooOOOooo, who's with me this year?

(I'm particularly interested in the torn books exhibit, the moon stages and the interactive light show- on the side of the skyscrapers)

** for those of you who are feeling too lazy to actually go read what Nuit Blanche is, it's an all night art show on the streets of Toronto, interactive, larger than life, incorporating all your senses.... wear a really great pair of walking shoes, drink coffee, and don't have plans for the next morning.

Snap- Shot

Voice in the night.

That was the song that came on as I trotted down the road.. rather, the song that came on as I paused.

If I'd had a camera, I'd have blown the photo up, hung it on the wall.

Called it "half harvest travels" or some other such nonsense.

But it was beautiful, half a harvest orange moon, hovering just above the train tracks. Trees silhouetted, rails lightly glowing back the orange. 

** Been listening to R3:30 after my C25K, the run isn't quite long enough, but I still want to take it easy. Instead I finish the run, then walk for the first 10 songs of the countdown.

a trail of shimmering, night of two moons

Living lakeside means no end to the opportunities for photo sessions. I need to get back in the habit of carrying my camera with me...
Tonight is a full(ish?) moon... I rounded the corner into the harbour and was greeted by this giant yellow red moon, just hovering on the water. Immediately I regretted leaving my camera at home. And like a good facebooker should, I updated my status via cell to alert all I know to my blunder.
I stood and watched for a few minutes, the geese floating on the water, chasing shadows.
People were starting to look at me funny, standing in the middle of the road and all, so I kept walking, past the harbour and onto the beach.

Now, one of the best sights ever on a clam night, is that trail of shimmering that leads from the edge of the beach to the bottom of the moon. A golden path rippled with tiny waves, maybe the silhouette of the lifeguard's chair breaking the light.
Tonight did not disappoint.
I walked out of the entrance way, onto the boardwalk to see.... two moons.
Two moons connected by that shimmering trail.
The second moon a reflection of the first... but only feet away.
The beach is flooded!
I couldn't look away! I jumped down off the walk into the mushy sand to check it out up close. Not 15 feet from the boardwalk the water starts... now, it's more like a giant puddle, it's not attached to the lake, there's a rise in the sand that's keeping them separate... but, instead of 200+ plus feet of prime suntanning, there's 200+ feet of prime puddle jumping!
I may have to borrow roomie's niece tomorrow for an excuse to run around in my pretty boots in the water.

I figure it's run off water... it's been around 20 degrees the past two days, everything is melting in overdrive, at this rate, the ground frost will be gone by Wednesday.

fresh air

before I even get started.... I'm off on a tangent.

I love Fresh Air Studio. Honestly. I can't even get out of bed on a weekend if I don't hear Jeff's voice wooing me to wakefulness. If you're not from the Toronto area... try to get a listen online some morning.. you'll be heart happy you did.

tangent done.

I was going to dig out my journals today... and unpack the scanner and get to some serious reminiscing... but then the air was so fresh, and the night so still... I went for a long walk and my legs turned to jello.

I'm making jello on the weekend at work. I promised Elvis I would.