Oh dangit Rubber Duckie!

Somewhere in all this flurry, there is a path with a purpose.

I admit my flaws and my addictions when I recognize them.

I think I'm addicted to blogs. Not mundane drivel about things completely alien or boring (this usually puts computer programming talk at the cross roads of Glazed Eyes Blvd and Not Hearing Avenue.)

I've been wandering around to a few blogs of people that I know or admire and by golly some of the sarcasm and wit that I see online is sheer editorial genius. Oh to have a teaspoon of such moxey!

So here I am. It's the evening, my chores are done, the wee boy is down in his crib and I have free time. It's kind of frightening!

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the concept of spring and that I actually DO like fresh air, flowers and sunshine. But I'm feeling rather good about things in general. Yeah, people will always argue about the state of the planet, the corruption of politicians and the random chaos that mankind has ensued upon itself; but in my own little world - life isn't all bad. Yes there will always be people who make more than you do and will be more successful than you even though they have the intellect of a distracted fruit fly. But so what? There have been people like that for centuries. Our lives are so impermanent and fleeting and those successful people are just as vulnerable. It's the small things. The oh so small things. And I know I'm sounding like a fortune cookie here and some of you are rolling your eyes at this plate of Trite a la Mode but you know what? That's ok! So I'm being a bit sentimental and mellow. It's probably the hormones, the phase of the moon or the amount of chocolate I had today. My point is that for all that we, as the human race, bitch and complain about the state of things and especially what THINGS you have, - we're all so impermanent that the THINGS don't matter. It's an epiphany, as a friend of mine used to say. A clear understanding of something that is so obvious you never saw it staring you in the face.

I'm so mellow right now there are probably a few people in Savannah wondering what kind of hash cookies I've been eating.

That means "Easter" if you're under age 10.

This year was Aiden's first official Easter Egg Hunt. Grant you there were no "unofficial" Easter Egg hunts last year, he was simply too small and single minded to care. My parents had sent an Easter Basket with the appropriate luminous yellow bunny and accompanying fixtures in all kinds of crazy colors. I presented the package to Aiden and goaded him gently to tear into the wrappings and get to the toy. (Like any self respecting parent would!) He came forward, patted it a few times, ripped the bow off and then toddled away - sublimely content in the prize still in his hand.

That was last year.
This year we went to a family gathering in Caledonia to meet up with other generations that all culminated in about 3 kids and 1 dog eligible for the egg hunt. The initial instructions for Aiden somehow became "grab what you want and put it in the basket Dad is holding" at which point he started collecting the bubble bottles (those jars of soap and bubble wands) and clunking them industriously into the overly small basket. Each time we took one out or tried to move away from the porch, he would put it back in or travel the extra necessary steps to bring the extra bottle. Truly dedicated.

With Daddy's cargo pants bulging with bubble bottles, we started pointing out the Easter Eggs that were "hidden" and cheered appropriately each time he put one in the basket. Aiden caught on and started to really look. The problem was that Easter Eggs don't grow back in the spots where you first took them. We circled the house twice after the hunt was over (nothing is ever officially over when it comes to an Easter Egg Hunt - not when some of them were real eggs and there is a risk of finding them several days later) and he continued to look in the places that he had been successful in the past. I can't fault the wee guy - at least it shows his thought process.

The really sweet part was how he sat on the grass with his basket in between his legs, and carefully inspected one aqua blue plastic egg. I showed him how to open it (at which point the chocolates all fell out) and how to close it. He spent a good 15 minutes in that very spot, opening the egg, tilting out the chocolates and then repacking them into the egg and resealing it. The way he always kept his little finger and up and the scrutiny he gave the entire process was endearing, if not a little zealous.

What you don’t remember
Is that beer is supposed to be sweet.
That Christmas tastes like souse
On too little sleep
And too much everything else.
That sunshine smells like salt on your skin.
And that the ocean never roars like people claim
But it will also never shut up.

You don’t remember
That the earth has a smell like a girl in heat.
That church bells are also for those not at service.
That the dock sounds like dominoes.
And that the wind will listen
If you have something to tell it.

You don’t remember
That the dead still rejoice
That poinciana looks like a song.
That the stars are watching
but the moon minds her own business.
And that the night can purr.

Until you can’t do anything but remember

So it's the other side of my birthday and y'know what? The world looks pretty much the same as it did pre-birthday. I don't know why people get so hung up on getting a year older. It's not as if you age a full year's worth in the wee hours of the morning of your birthday, so that you wake up with a bumper crop of wrinkles and grey hair. It's a growing process and damnit if I have wrinkles and grey hair - I've earned every last one of them! I age - like everything else. Now if you told me that I would age and NOT die - then I'd be really upset. A terrible way to spend eternity - best friends with a bed pan.

Birthday was full of birthday goodness. There were roses, Starbucks, pressies from afar and in general good mojo flowing all around. I was a happy camper on my birthday. So much so I didn't want it to end, in that 6 year old way. My hubbie is already ahead of me on this. He's designated it my birthday MONTH and has been doing his best to spoil me all month. He's a good boy. I think I'll let him live a little longer.

It's a true spring day. Rainy and drizzly with a promise of afternoon sunshine but no guarantees. What is spring if not inconsistent? Last weekend I had changed out the winter/summer wardrobes. It's the next best thing to shopping because you suddenly find a bunch of clothes that you forgot you even owned - and lo and behold - they fit me! Some I actually have to have taken IN! After having a child I never thought I would be this small again.

And that's all there is for now. It's a lazy day. So what?

Pick an artist, and using ONLY SONG TITLES from only that artist, cleverly (preferably) answer these questions. This is harder than it seems!

ADDITIONAL RULE: You cannot use the same artist I did, or duplicate song titles even if they were performed by another artist.

1. Are you a male or female: Hey Girl
2. Describe yourself: Modern Woman
3. How do you feel about yourself: I Go to Extremes
4. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend: Worst comes to Worst
5. Describe your current boy/girl situation: You're My Home
6. Describe your current location: A Room of Our Own
7. Describe where you want to be: Summer, Highland Falls
8. Your best friend is: State of Grace
9. Your favorite color is: Shades of Grey
10. You know that: The Times They Are A-Changin'
11. What's the weather like: Falling of the Rain
12. If your life was a television show what would it be called: That's Not Her Style
13. What is life to you: Pressure
14. What is the best advice you have to give: You're Only Human
15. If you could change your name what would it be: Rosalinda's Eyes

I know the equinox is a few days off yet but today felt like spring. Literally that feeling of waking up and stretching, cat-like and languid in your bed. The air was cold, the sun was a warm. A delicious paradox that reeked of things germinating in the soil. It was the kind of day when you close your eyes and imagine coils of green curling out of the earth in slow motion. I parked at the far end of parking lots today, without complaint. I walked like a kid with my arms stretched out to catch the breeze and wished dearly that I could have moved my desk outside.

It was that kind of day.

Item made for the Tweaky Lil' Drow is complete and will be put into the mail sometime this month. I would be more specific - but I can't!

I have given her the following clues:

I asked her what brand of cigarette she smokes
I asked if she had heard Dennis Leary's No Cure for Cancer
And this item can be used in private or in public

Anyone got any guesses?

I believe my 20 month old son is a football fan. Since the Superbowl has started, he's taken his bottle and his blanket to the couch, completely reclined, has been rubbing his belly and has stayed there - eyes transfixed on the tv.


Where he gets the sports genes from I don't know.

The first seven (7) people to respond to this post will get something made by me.

This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:

- I make no guarantees that you will like what I make.
- What I create will be just for you.
- It'll be done this year (2009).
- No requests: it could be anything.
- I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.

The catch is that if you don't re-post this offer, the bargain is void!

I suppose it comes with the time of year. For a lot of us we sit back and put on this pretense of being deep, philosophical and enlightening. I say "pretense" because it's my opinion that humankind is obsessed with the day to day materialism that makes up our lives; have the bills been paid? what's for dinner? can I afford that new car? I don't exclude myself from this group. I am, after all, human and to tell the truth, without a lot of these day to day materialistic concerns we would starve, run amok and many infrastructures would falter if not collapse. So these concerns have their place.

But as I was starting to say, it's at this time of the year - that is to say 'the beginning' - that we make those resolutions that we know we'll abandon by March, and we say "This is the year I'll make that trip to the Great Barrier Reef, I'll donate pints of blood every weekend, hand make all birthday gifts, walk the Great Wall of China and take up white water rafting! This is the year I do all of the exciting things that I've been putting off all of my life!"

You know, I'm all for following your dreams. I'm all for going after that goal that you've been too afraid to even attempt. And goodness knows that the media has been telling us to do it for decades now. Go get that hot rod car and paint it whatever color you want - because you deserve it!

Let's take a deep breath.

My Dad has a saying - do whatever makes you happy, as long as it's reasonable. Sound advice. Else half of the women I know would be neck deep in designer footware and eyebrow deep in credit card bills.

What I want to know is - what happened to celebrating and heralding the small moments that come with NO PLANNING and take you by surprise? What's wrong with filling the coming year with moments that stand still in your memory cause they're just that awesome.

For example, last night the moon was the closest it was going to be to the Earth for xyz years. I never pay attention to the numbers. Every few months another body in the heavens will lean in to smile at Earth and the media goes planet-crazy for 48 hours. My husband and I love watching the moon in all of her phases. The fact that she was full and gloriously bright last night was a plus for us. We're at my parents in the Bahamas for a visit. That's when it happened. Last night I was knitting, our son was asleep in his playpen and my parents were watching tv. My husband and I went to the back patio, pulled up enough patio chairs to prop our feet up and we watched the moon. While out there, I finished my second sock and popped both of them on my feet. Brand new socks, coffee, having a real conversation with your spouse and an amazing view of the moon. Now that is something to celebrate.

I wish you all success and health. But I also wish you the quiet moments of magic, that life might whisper.

It's awkward to be packing for a visit to the 'rents. We live in Ontario. It's winter here. Snow, ice, frosty breathe and all the other accessories of winter. So what am I packing? Well I've pulled out my shorts, halter tops and sandals for a start. My folks live in the Caribbean and the coldest it will be there, during our duration, is about 70 degrees - in the middle of the night. Yeah. I'm opening up the storage bin with summer clothes in it. It feels strange. But on the upside, I'd forgotten about the neat summer wardrobe that I have!

Ever since coming back from spending Christmas with my family in a cramped condo (the condo itself is lovely, but 6 adults + 1 toddler + associated luggage for all = cramped!) I've had this urge to clean and get rid of stuff. The useless stuff that breeds in the darkened corners of your closets. When you actually purge it, you pull it out, turning it over and say to yourself "Gees, I forgot I had this." THAT STUFF MUST GO! If it's not in use, at least seasonally, (Christmas stuff has its own special storage) then it should not be kept.

The kitchen was done before my husband got up today. Even the condiments and various bottles of things (olive oils, soy sauce etc) were lined up regimental style in the cupboard. The fridge was purged, thank goodness! The clothes of all were seriously revisited. Tray and I had recently done this is in the past few months so there wasn't really anything for us to get rid of but the wee man of the house had CLOTHES! I made 3 piles; what was too big, what fit and what he had outgrown. They were all evenly sized piles. There will be a lot of donations going out the door. The bathroom was purged (you know how lotions, hair pins and cotton swabs just build up in the bathroom? Yeah - MUST STOP IT!) and all Christmas related decorations were taken down and put away. In the process of putting them away, reshuffling and purging of the storage/winter coat closet was done. I'm seriously considering donating the skates. Worn them one winter. Don't know when I'll do it again.

The linen cupboard and the book shelves still need to be done but those are items that can be solved at another time. I'm somewhat satisfied with what was accomplished today. All laundry was caught up. I would have been happier if I'd done the ironing as well but that too will have to wait. At the moment the only garbage bags in the house have donation materials in them, and that will happen on the weekend.

A new year, a somewhat cleaner/more organized household.

Now if I could only get my poor stand up kitchenaid mixer fixed. For those who are unaware, the brave soldier was selected to make the trip to Toronto to assist the culinary activities of the Holiday Season. Stalwart as he was, he toppled (or was pushed by the food processor traveling along with him) and upon contact with the pavement, was decapitated. For the rest of the holiday, it spent sitting useless on the kitchen table, cradling the head in the metallic bowl. A very sad sight indeed.

As the old year draws to a close, and we anticipate the arrival of the new year with bated breath and lots of booze, we pause to reflect (.... and done......) and make our resolutions.

I never liked the idea of resolutions. A lot of pressure that you put on yourself to be idealized and then fall short somewhere around January 30th, followed by "Oh what the heck!" and the whole thing falls apart.

So here are my goals:

I want to spend more time doing art. Art for me. I've spent a lot of time this past year on the computer and knitting. I need to spend more time on art. I've missed it. I have a project in mind specifically for this goal.

I want to finish one quilt and start one more.
I started Conor's quilt oh so very long ago. It's a crib sized quilt though the wee fella is about 18 months old now and will soon be outgrowing the crib. Oh well, maybe it can be a personal blankie. Quilting has become difficult because the beginning stages involve pulling out a sewing machine and an ironing board. Things that my son's curiosity would be peaked by and that's just not good. So the husband, (ever trying to please me) has come up with a suggestion for an impromptu sewing station that can be stowed away in the cupboard. I need to sew at least once a week. Once the top is assembled and everything is pinned, the actual quilting is hand done and is easily pulled out and stowed within 90 seconds. It's just getting to that part. So, finish Conor's quilt and start one other. My fingers hurt just thinking about it.

That's it.
No exercise regimes. No diet promises. No empty hopes of changing the flow of the universe and the way things normally are.
I'm simply going to try and be me, the best I can be, each day. Not just this year, but every day. It's hard. I'm not perfect and I'm gonna bungle it up along the way. But the point is to try.

I know that this year has been hard on people. I know a lot of friends who have gone through trials they never would have imagined facing; all in this year. I've gone through some of my own. It's been a year of cleansing by fire. You come out the other side, scorched, smoking and coughing - but damnit you're alive, and you know NEVER to walk that particular road again.

I really do hope that 2009 holds better promise for all of you.
Happy New Year

Ladies and gentlemen of the viewing public, all (counts on fingers and toes) eight (?) of you....

We're almost there. Christmas is almost here. Which means the public frenzy is nearing it's zenith. I invite you to pause, a still moment in the torrents of hurricane winds, and reflect on the moment. I'm not going to plague you with slogans reminding you that Jesus is the reason for the season. I'm open-minded enough to acknowledge that not everyone follows the Christian faith or indeed any faith at all. It breaks my heart to think that this is a time of year, people should just be happy and instead they fall to squabbling over the petty differences in theology. I beg you, no matter your outlook, take a moment and just enjoy. The stars in the sky, the glitter of tree decorations, the smell of home baked goods, the flickering lights on a menorah, - anything, so long as it brings you some inner joy for a small measure of time that you can hold in your memory.

I wish you all safe travels (especially those of you in the North Eastern US) and a Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Blessed Yule, Happy Kwanzaa and a Happy New Year.

It was a week ago today - in fact, right this minute, that I heard about my Grandfather's passing. That evening as I drove home from work (not a lot got done that afternoon), I heard this song on the radio, and it gave me much comfort.


Brad Paisley
"When I Get Where I'm Going"
(feat. Dolly Parton)

When I get where I'm going
On the far side of the sky
The first thing that I'm gonna do
Is spread my wings and fly

I'm gonna land beside a lion
And run my fingers through his mane
Or I might find out what it's like
To ride a drop of rain

[Chorus]
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
I will shed the sins and struggles
I have carried all these years
And I'll leave my heart wide open
I will love and have no fear
Yeah when I get where I'm going
Don't cry for me down here

I'm gonna walk with my grand daddy
And he'll match me step for step
And I'll tell him how I missed him
Every minute since he left
Then I'll hug his neck

[Repeat chorus]

So much pain and so much darkness
In this world we stumble through
All these questions I can't answer
So much work to do

But when I get where I'm going
And I see my maker's face
I'll stand forever in the light
Of his amazing grace
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
Hallelujah
I will love and have no fear
When I get where I'm going
Yeah when I get where I'm going

William Morrison Reiach was my grandfather. He was an amazing man who lead an incredible life. He lived to 85 (his birthday being just this passed weekend), served in the British Royal Marines during the second world war, lived in several countries and saw his family grow to the extent of six great grandchildren.

This blog is not going to be very eloquent I'm afraid. I'm simply not coherent enough to coordinate sentences of the right poignancy. I'm sitting here at my keyboard, typing, because I feel I should record the moment before it is swallowed by the duties required of family - should I have any.

I'm in a strange space of time right now. The best way I can describe it is, my bones are hollow, if that makes any sense. I'm not numb, else I wouldn't have shed some tears already, but I'm not weeping mess either. There will be waves of memories, nostalgia and grief that will roll over me. It may get worse before it gets better but eventually it will get to the point where I will remember more good times than grieve. My grandfather is in no pain now. He was very disoriented at the end of his life. Very frail. He's free now. It's us, the living, who are in pain. We grieve because we want our loved ones with us. And not in the 'they're always in your heart' way that you tell young children when they lose their first pet. We want them living and breathing. We want them talking and laughing and joking, don't we? That's why we grieve. We mourn the loss of the person we'll not be able to touch again. I'll mourn, in my own time and my own way. But part of me is relieved. My Grandfather is free from pain, sorrow and burdens. And that alone is something worth giving thanks for.

Who was my grandfather?
He was born and raised in Scotland, and retained the lilt in his voice throughout his entire life.
He ironed every garment he washed - right down to the underthings
I once handed him a pair of socks that I had knit for him. He held them for a few moments, wrinkled his brow in scrutiny and then grinned "This is hand spun wool! This is good stuff." It made me glow inside.
He loved his grouper fingers from the Poop Deck in the Bahamas
He was infinitely proud of "The Craft" also known as the Freemasons, an organization in which he spent 60 years
He would occasionally pepper his dialogue with vocabulary not heard for a generation
He wasn't afraid to give a hearty laugh at a joke or a funny story
He did his best to keep up with the changes in technology, even if he didn't move far beyond floppy disks and scanning
He was the patriarch of a family who loved him dearly and will miss his presence.

I don't care if it's not US Thanksgiving or Black Friday yet. My tree is up and decorated. I'm a nut for Christmas and I don't care who knows it. Those of you who know me well enough (probably the few who read this blog) don't have to be reminded of that. No biggie. Christmas Carols + egg nog + toddler in bright red pj's with a santa hat and sunglasses = lotsa fun.

We tried to make this a family affair. Aiden was trying to eat the ornaments last year.... ok not much has changed, only that he knows which ones will fit into his mouth now. We are rather proud that he DID take it upon himself to sort the scattered ornament balls into colors and sizes. No joke. He's 18 months old and became the 'ornament secretary'. Tray is now shaking his head muttering something about "OCD, just like his mother..."

Aiden didn't quite understand the delicate nature of the ornament hooks though. I tried to guide him through it a few times but he sort of felt that the tree and ornament should adhere automatically like velcro. It eventually turned into him being more interested in categorizing the ornaments into piles or grabbing the beads on the tree and trying to run off with them. Yes, the beading on the lower half of the tree is a little patched in a place or two but it's all good. These are the kind of stories that you tell him when he's a structural engineer and complaining about the symmetry of the decorations.

In the quiet time that happens after the wee man goes to sleep, I'm trying to get Christmas knitting done. I have family coming up here this year so I sorta need to be punctual with that - can't blame it on the post or such like. During the knitting time this evening, my husband asks if I'll teach him to knit. Well sure! Get some of the large needles and some yarn from my stash and I'll show you. He's a good student. It's been an hour and he's learned casting on and knitting, well enough to not need my supervision (else I wouldn't be here at the computer). He's making a little scarf for Aiden - a project that I suggested seeing as Aiden does have a good winter coat but not a lot of turtle necks or shirts that cover the neck/chin area. It's a small, rectangular project that should make him feel quite proud when he's done. I'm not going to push him into staying with knitting if he doesn't want it. This could just be an experiment to try it out. We'll wait and see.

Thursday is US Thanksgiving and work is having a dessert potluck in honor of the occasion. I'm thinking of going rather untraditional and doing homemade peppermint marshmallows. Why not? I got the recipe! Let's give it a try.