out of habit

Sometimes there are things about your roommate that you don't bother to question. Sometimes there are things that they don't question you about.
It just works better that way, and besides... everyone is different.

When I came home a while back... there was a small tin-foil type pan in our oven. It looked like it was being used as a drip try (which is smart, because I hate cleaning the oven) but for the most part I found it was in the way. Each time I cooked, I'd take it out of the oven and put it on the top shelf. Then, when I was finished, I'd stick it back in.

Roomie got a cast iron pan that needed to be seasoned, and she'd read about seasoning inside the oven, so she decided to give it a try, the little tin pan served it's purpose as a drip tray, and the next day as we started to cook, she took it from the oven and said "I hope you don't mind, I'm going to throw this out so the apartment doesn't smell like oil".
"I don't mind" I said... and then I added.... "it's not mine... I thought it was yours"
she looked at me strangely... and we both started to laugh... not knowing where the pan had come from... and then we realized... it had belonged to the girl who stayed in my room when I went to Togo two years ago! We've both been taking it out of the oven each day, and putting it back, not questioning it's purpose....

I wonder how many other things in our life are like that?

um... hostess?

Last night a group of us went out to Casey's after the Dock... we went to the same place we've been going to for Karaoke, and generally, well... we go there a lot.
As our group stood at the front door waiting to be seated, the main hostess came to us and said::

"If you can't seat yourself by now, you shouldn't bother to come back"

we plodded off and rearranged the tables like we always do.

oh small town, I love you.

Doctor come QUICK!!!!

Disclaimer:: the following story may be too much information... unless you like poop stories.

I can only write this because Matty wrote THE EXACT same thing this week..... and so I don't feel so stupid now.

So Monday, my day off, I spent the day watching movies and being lazy in preparation for my two week stretch at work... For dinner I made a nice mess of grilled root veggies in olive oil and rosemary and garlic...mmmmm, Dalton made chicken, it was a masterpiece really.
Tuesday at around noon I went for the "long call" (say it with a Ugandan child's accent please, it makes it less poop sounding.. almost like a pleasant conversation instead of the void that it was) (yes that's right... I mean a crap) To my horror the results were SO full of blood that it started to tint the water red...
I started to sweat... I was near tears... I was DIEING!!!! and so young!!!
I pulled myself together and went back to work... in the back of my mind writing my will, trying to figure out how I'd break the news to my family and friends... gathering the courage to call my family doctor to begin the series of tests that would point to my end.
I was terrified.
Work ended a few hours later...and as I pulled my belongings out of the car I thought about the nice time I'd had the day before, and how there were to be so few more like it, I thought about the yummy meal I'd had..... and how there would be few like it too...
yummy meal? what made it so yummy? spices and roots...
oh yes, those tasty red beets had added so much flavour too ...
red beets....
OOooooOOOOOooooh
right...
I'm not dieing.

losing my identity

If you live in the Tannery area, and they tear down the tannery... where do you live?


I woke up the other morning to the house shaking a little... I didn't think much of it as the train tracks are quite close, if you are in the front room when a freight passes, you can hear the windows shaking in their panes If you are sitting close enough you can watch the glass shake around. (yeah, I imagine those are pretty weather tight ;) There's even a slight shudder to the house when two pass at the same time. When I stepped out the front door at 7, the air smelt heavy like skunk... which was strange because that was the morning of the minus 33 wind chill... if I were a skunk, I'd still be in bed- skunks don't have day jobs. It was strange until I took the first corner behind my house and saw the dust flying and settling, flying and settling. The large red brick house at the main entrance to the Tannery was flattened. a heap of red brinks and some machinery sorting left over bits if metal and wood stood beside an archway made of cement that had at one time connected the house (office?) to the rest of the buildings, remained.
The Tannery was a photographer's (or maybe any artist's) dream.... old window panes catching light, rusting cogs and wheels, wooden roofs at strange angles, little bits of shadow and surprises. I'll miss it. That same morning an old door had been left open, you could see silhouetted and framed by morning sunlight an old pulley and chains from the ceiling... I really need to start carrying a camera.

to sit on steps....

More and more, the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, enter their homes, sit on their doorsteps, play ball, throw water, and be known as someone who wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have the time to practice this simple ministry of presence. Still, it is not as simple as it seems. My own desire to be useful, to do something significant, or to be part of some impressive project is so strong that soon my time is taken up by meetings, conferences, study groups, and workshops that prevent me from walking the streets. It is difficult not to have plans, not to organize people around an urgent cause, and not to feel that you are working directly for social progress. But I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn't be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and tell your own, and to let them know with words, handshakes, and hugs that you do not simply like them, but truly love them.

Henri Nouwen

A plug

So, fantastic news this week at work, we're getting a pay increase! We're still not at "industry standards" but we're moving up a little at a time.
"What will I do with my Retro pay?" has been the question of the day for many.. and I'm flip flopping back and forth on my decision.... it's not a tonne of money... a little over $500 before taxes, AND it's nearly income tax time... well, it IS income tax time, but I'm still waiting on three little pieces of paper *le sigh*...
I need a new mattress for my bed... sometime soon. Not desperately soon, no springs are stabbing me in the back yet, but it's an old one, laying on a sheet of chipboard in the frame of my bed. So I've been doing some pricing here and there over the past year....
Saturday I found myself in "Heavenly Dreams" It's the place beside CDCI West, it used to have some other name, but in the past year it's changed, the owner there now is Scott Keller.
I like local, so I will be buying from him. Not just because he's local, but because he bothered to put the time and energy into a sale that he may not have even profited from. He even encouraged me to check around for other prices.
So, I go in, and Scott comes up to me and asks how he might help, I mention that I'm just starting to price things out and I'm not really sure what it is that I'm looking for. Scott then takes thirty minutes of his time to explain a whole PILE about mattresses. (pun may or may not be intended). I came in knowing very little... and I've spent time in and out of stores all over... and left with a grasp on what I need to know to make an informed purchase. All the while Scott kept in mind that I likely wouldn't be buying from him, and helped me to figure out how to make the comparisons between brands and even how to compare same brands between different shops. He took the time to answer even my obscure questions..
Did you know that there's a brand of mattresses that has parts produced locally?
Anyway, I know this reads like a cheesy advertisement... but well... it is. Your regularly scheduled blogger will be back later.
Go check them out.

Minus

Today I refuse to even smile.

For fear that the frozen air will shatter my chattering teeth.

thank you minus 33 wind chill.

too much

Last night I hit the Lawless gallery for a triple mix of Aengus Finnan (yay!) Catherine Maclellan and Tanya Davis. Now, the last time I saw Catherine was at the Oasis, and the sound mix was awful and I was SO distracted by it I had to focus hard on what was being played... but last night, I got to do the board... for all three, so I was quite content.

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to write about!

Two weeks ago, driving the 28 home, I was (as per my usual routine) listening to the Vinyl Cafe on CBC, but it was a little different... instead of the show on the road, Stuart was in the studio, doing a program on "Sad songs". The idea being, that if you hear a really sad song, it'll just make you feel a little better. I agreed, so I kept listening. That was the day that the sun was blinding me all the way home...

A little Leonard was played, and then Stuart said something to the effect of "sometimes a song that sounds happy can be one of the saddest of them all" and launched into the story behind Gene Maclellan's depression and how "Snowbird" reflected him the best of all his songs... The cheery song came on the radio... and while I listened to it and thought about the sadness of the song (and his eventual suicide) I started to get a little weepy... The song ended and Stuart said just a few lines... about Catherine (his daughter) and how she must have been thinking about her dad as she wrote the next song...
That next song was one she wrote about her dad, and there's a line in it about putting his records on to listen to them, when that line was sung I started to cry...
All I could think about was the powerful painful process that is behind song... behind poetry... behind putting your most intimate thought onto paper or playing it out loud.
I thought about who would be listening to the songs, to even just that program that day... what if... what if Catherine were listening to that program? Would she hurt more over hearing the stories and songs played together? Or would it be healing, knowing that others could feel along with her? I resolved then and there that I was NEVER going to write a song down again... something so personal... so... entirely open.. so ... *sigh*
Then a letter was read... a letter about Tanya's new Cd, and a piece was played called Sadness.* By the end I was still so upset by the fact that words are so powerful, but I knew I'd better get a new pen.

.... put down my handkerchief, for a pen with good ink flow and then
put down a new poem and then something insightful..... make it worth my while.

*also listen to "Art"... it just confirms it.

the time eater

I made the mistake of joining facebook.
See how my blog has suffered?

Things that I like.

I like documentaries.
I like learning.
I like pirates.
I like the earth....
there are other things I like, but all those can be found together here....