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“Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”

30 Jun

I had a wonderful post percolating in my head for days-a post about those blue skies in late June, those same blue skies you said good-bye to your childhood under, the same blue skies you left home with, packed your things, spent a last few days quietly with friends, not thinking ahead with sadness but with excitement.

I spent the last little while thinking about this post, thinking about my own ambivalence when high school ended, my hidden fears, manifested by tension headaches my entire last semester and compounded by falling in love. I was terrified, sad and excited all at once.

My friend and I would walk our small town streets at night, and walk to the top of the single overpass in town, staring out across the river, pretending the equally small American town was actually a city, Montreal, Toronto, that place where our lives could begin. We’d sigh and keep walking, waiting for sunrise.

We assumed we’d always be friends. It was implied that we’d always be there for each other as she watched me leave town without a backward glance. It was assumed that the lovely day in the park that last June, with the apple blossoms dancing on the soft kissing breeze in the sunlight, balanced against the glass like sky would not be the last, that we could continue those halcyon days, those precious, simple, slowed days where time is like taffy and we only pull at the very edges, the insides staying heated and full.

We were rich then, and we didn’t know. It wasn’t a perfect time-our edges stuffed with shitty home lives, the navigation of other fucked up teenagers, the fear and absolute confusion we felt at our futures. But we were rich with each other, our small group of friends, piled on each other in a park, high as kites, imagining UFO’s as we scared our selves silly. We we rich with those sunrises we talked until, satiating our minds and eyes on a quiet fire that still burns. We talked and laughed and ate and lived. No more, no less. We were pure in ourselves, even if the world around us felt like crumbling.

I’ve had this post in my head because there have been days where again the sunlight, the blue forever brings to mind that wild exultation that living in your future can’t bring. The possibility we lose growing up, having responsible lives. The clarity we once had, even in our wild states.


It’s raining here today, as it has for days. The kind of rain that makes you wonder where the magic disappears to, and then you wander out into your yard and stumble upon wild strawberries growing with abandon. Not all are nibbled by slugs, and in the rock hard rain, they’re the sweetest bit of wonder you’ve had in quite a long time.

They do indeed taste good to her.

If you were wondering

14 May

Walking 3 miles or so in 17 mile a hour winds SUCKS ASS.

I say it almost every day, but the weather here is horrible. It’s either freezing or windy as shit. Just no wind-that’s really all I ask…

However, watching some moron trying to drive around the barricades blocking off a road, despite the giant “Construction Zone-NO ENTRY” sign and the person yelling frantically at them nearly made the whole thing worthwhile….

I now sit in a “visible” area at work, so if I’m not around during the day, it’s not personal. I just figure that using the internet at work inappropriately isn’t something to do near members of the HR department.

in our hand.

22 Mar

Winter: Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes



I’m so desperately tired of winter right now-the dank, the tired snows next to the road, the icy streets that catch me unaware, the damp light that filters through the clouds on odd occasions. I’m done with it. If I could break up with winter, I would. I could do it via text message even-it’s not me-it’s you.

Only 3 months ago, snow was a wonderful blanket, a coaxing covering that looked like pudding-inviting and cozy,a simple cureall for the rotted undergrowth summer had left, sparse under the porches. It cleansed.

Now it’s dark and full of yellows and blacks and browns and the odd disturbing red, especially outside those dirty bars. And I’m tired, woefully tired of it this early easter, this first week of spring.


I’m tired of a lot lately. A general dis-ease with most of life. I think it’s the snow. I’m pretty sure it’s the snow, or the busy life I’ve had lately, the lack of just plain old sit down, read/knit/sing/do something other than work on work or the house. Dissatisfaction, time, little time, life spinning without my permission as my children grow older and new mothers grow younger. I cannot stop it and yet the snows continue. My life grows quicker and I grow older and the winter won’t budge, shaking it’s head slowly and smiling slightly at my anger and stomping feet.

I feel time now. Wrapping around me, hugging my arms dancing through my ears in whispers, enveloping my daughters in it’s embrace she giggles through my house, through the memories we create, stubborn as they are. Her breath is heavy on my neck as I cradle my youngest for what could be the last time, babylike she holds herself close to me, her eyes shuttered and chest heavy with sleep. Soon, time will move her away from my lap, then my hands and arms, then sight altogether.

Time is in the corner, her watch set for my death, maybe theirs, someone’s. The days of a life on a watch I’d give much to own, and destroy. How dare you path it all out, like a project, little arrows and stars for milestones, saved on a disk somewhere-this is my life, my little world inside these brick wall. She needs to go, to leave us as we are. A moment, blocked off, held firm inside these walls, safe.

They grow older, and away from me. Their thoughts, not mine, their days, unknown to me. I curse this life, these needs, my inability to just sit still and inhale it all, the smell of child, the smell of adventure and hope and possibility. I curse you time. I curse the moments that slip away from me even now as I cry, mourning the time I’ve lost already.

The snow stays. The snow never seems to leave. Or perhaps, that’s just my heart.


Tori Amos: Gold Dust: Scarlet’s Walk

“Good questions outrank easy answers.”

29 Jan

It’s funny that one day of little to no commenting freaks me out and makes me wonder if moving my blogroll to a page instead of my sidebar has made the spacetime flux of the internet collapse on me.

Sad really.

Not that I spent much time ruminating on it. It just seemed very odd. Of course, once I remember that people have real LIVES and it’s a Monday, it makes sense.

I just get so very bored talking to Excel all day…

It snowed. Again. I’m really quite tired of all the snow. Today’s it’s freezing rain, then rain.

I hate weather. I hate that I had to do the stop drop and roll out my front door this morning. I literally rolled over the snowbank. I’m sure my neighbour was confused when she looked outside to see giant me giggling over the snowbank, trying to keep my laptop out of the snow. It was fun, but wet. Very wet.

I’m sure it will be just as enjoyable when I spend 2 hours shovelling it later. I’ll bring the girls out so they can slide-did you know that garbage bags make kick ass sleds? Which is good, since we have a bunch of bags we can’t use because they don’t adhere to the blue/green bag program.

There’s not enough time in my days. I want to get back to learning how to use the sewing machine, and I’m waiting for my last Amazon order, which most certainly be here today since nothing will be shovelled until well after the mailperson goes by. I want more time to finish the blanket for Typhoid Mary’s son (couldn’t resist Jen. 🙂 ) I want time to make cookies.

Hell, I’d settle for the energy to do all of this.

In keeping with my lust for comments, I’m cheating. Ask me anything you can think of about Canada, or the maritimes, keeping in mind that I was born and bred in Ontarion, and I desperately wish I was still there. Except in the fall. And Summer, and raspberry season when the bushes behind my house grow wild with yummy berry goodness and we gorge ourselves until we can eat no more. Almost, but not the same as the wil blueberries a group of us made ourselves sick on once in 1994 when I lived on the shores of Lake Superior.

So ask me something. I’m bored, and have nothing of consequence to speak of today.


28 Jan
This is NOT what it looks like outside today.

Mr. Snow, we need to have a little chat.

14 Jan

Dear Snow.

I do like you. We have a subtle love affair. Before you arrive, I dream about you. It’s all I can do to stop thinking about your slushy gleem, the sparkle on your surface in the moonlight on one of those perfect, heartbreaking winter nights. The crunch under my boots, turning to squeaks as you’re worn down.

During the summer, the heady days of August when even the mosquitos have screamed “screw this crap!” and hide in the bushes by the stream behind my house, I compose my odes to your frigidity. I think of my breath hanging in the air, tongues stuck to zipper pulls, fingers cool and numb from snowballs. The cold wet, almost like a dog nose, down my boots after running through the field with my children.

I think back to years long gone. Snow forts, built by my brother in the snowbacks next door, created by the clearing of a parking lot. At 3 feet tall, they seem huge, like the world! My brother would carve out the space inside, use a candle to melt the walls to ice, making them solid, real. I would sit, huddled, with only that candle to light the space as night fell, and I was alone with the sound of my breathing echoing in my ears.

I’d play for hours with you snow. Building worlds, castles, countries. Later, while I straddled the line between youth and adulthood, we’d run riot through backyards and streets, laughing and heaving snow at and around each other. I’d stop and look up, and see the stars run on forever in the inky sky. It was almost as if the sky was dripping, and wanted me to reach out and touch, my wet mittens soggy, their ice crystals blending in with the stars above.

I’ve grown older, and my appreciation is now more for late night walks in the dusky air, the solidness of it all, the eerie perfection of a still evening.


Already, in the last month or so, we’ve received around 150cms of snow. Which then mostly melted. We are now set to receive, at the very least, 25 more cms tonight. They haven’t said what we’ll get tomorrow.

Snow, as much as I adore you, I have tired of you. I’m afraid I must cast you off like a worn shirt, into the junk heap, into yesterday’s jumbled mess of stuff. I’ve had quite enough of you. This fling has to end somewhere, sometime, and now, I believe I’m ready to throw myself headlong into the arms of Summer, that fickle, tempermental beast.

If only I could find him.

Electricity, I could KISS you

4 Dec

So, yesterday, I couldn’t wait for the storm that was approaching to hit.



At about 4am the power went off. How do I know that? Someone was screaming bloody murder about her light being off, and I then had to explain to a 2.5 year old what a power outage was. Which translated roughly to

“Power broken Rozie. NO light.”

Not that this stuck in her head. I must have explain 40 times through the morning that no power meant no Christmas tree lights.


About noon I said “the hell with this” and went back to bed, freezing and exhausted. Of course, the lights came back on shortly after.


I realized today how much I adore electricity. Even trying to knit was a trial since I couldn’t see anything. Having to listen to the local moron radio show for entertainment almost as painful as trying to entertain 2 small children. They came outside while I shovelled snow-that didn’t last very long, since both seem to have very delicate skin that shrivels up and screaming when snow touches it.



I couldn’t even open the back screen door for all the snow this morning. Then I remember that we have a sliding patio door. The snow in places was up to my knees. I’m about 5 foot 9, so you do the math.

It’s beautiful out (or at least, I could acknowledge this once we had heat back) but it’s a liitle worrisome that tree limbs might start coming down. 4 inches of snow on a branch will do that.

I love storms, but even this one was a bit much. At least it met my criteria for not trying to get to work-if public transit isn’t moving, I’m not either.

And oops. Left my laptop at work.


It’s snowing.

10 Nov

I complain about the early snow, but really, I don’t mind. How can something that coats the ground like smooth velvet be bad?

Remember that excitement when you were small, and the first snow hit? How even half a centimetre was a cause for joy and wonder? The world was changing! The air became heavy and moist, your breath would hang on it for what seemed like hours. Even the sunlight would be different, clean and cutting.

I would spend hours sitting in my backyard, playing at nothing and everything in the snow. Building forts, having grand adventures, all those things a lonely kid would do on a snowy afternoon. I’m come back in the house, frosty, with snow packed down my boots and in my sleeves. My nose would be red, and I’d stand on the forced air vent to warm my toes. My mother would make hot chocolate, and tell me to stop hogging the hot air.

My best memories of my mother are from winter, the cold clear nights when she’s flip the porch light on and off so we’d come back in the house, the steamy kitchen, fragrant with dinner, curled up on the couch on the too cold nights, reading or watching the news. She was such a warm presence then, a steady warmth I could count on to warm me no matter how chilly it got outside.

It’s snowing today. I hope I can make some warmth for my babies too.

I’ll huff and I’ll puff….

3 Nov

We’re getting a hurricane today! Or rather, a storm with all the characteristics of a hurricane but with a different name. Winds of 100-130kmh, 50-70mm of rain, potential for major damage. Fun.

Actually, I like storms, so this might be interesting. I just don’t really want to lose power or need to boil my water due to eColi counts…

It’s really calm outside at the moment, and it’s so obvious something is coming. The air feels different, like it’s electrified and waiting. Soon, the winds will really gear up, and we’ll be stuck inside with each other all day long.

Actually, I think THAT is scarier than the storm.

This is Farmlife

6 Sep

Someone handed me a giant zucchini today, and not in the chicka chicka bow wow Ron Jeremy sense of the word. I received a zuchinni so large I know not what to do with it. Yes, I love it, but when it’s the length of my forearm…..

The person who gave it to me somehow manages to grow something other than herbs. Actually, I can grow stuff, like squash and potatoes in my compost (note to self-turn heap more often, add leaves). I just can’t get it to finish growing. I have premature tomatoes that just won’t get red.


I don’t get the weather in that “wasn’t born here” kind of way. Not like I do at home. In Ontario, it’s usually warm until my birthday (September 25) and then it gets cold. BAM. That’s usually when the apples and the cider and the yummy harvest stuff begins. Here, I swear that starts in July. And it only stops snowing in May. Ok, I’m exaggerating a little. But not much.

I feel out of sync with the land. I feel lost behind the season, running to catch up with a parent who refuses to wait and changes direction every 10 feet. My vision of hippy farm land must be much more south than I live.

I can grow oregano though. I haven’t managed to kill that yet. And catmint. No issues there. But my poor, sad tomatoes? Green, green green.

Good thing I hate the bloody things anyway.

Bad Day

10 Jul

Today is a bad day.

Sometimes I feel like I’ll never get out of here-like I’ll be crazy forever and Mogo will be lost to me, the girls lost to me. I feel like I’ll never find a quiet place of my own ever again, that I’ll never find me again in all of this shit and dirt and mess.

Mogo brought the girls to see me, and I wish I had felt better about the visit. But I was already cycled into depressed and vulnerable, and for some reason, their visit only made it worse. I feel horribly guilty for leaving them in the lurch, for not getting better quicker, for doing this to them. It’s not fair. I’m doing what I can. But it doesn’t feel like I am. I feel like people think I’m on vacation, relaxing in my room.

I’m lonely. I’m desperately alone, and sad in there. I’m tired of the noise-the god-dammed racket! The shitty ass food. The people who won’t be quiet, who smell my hair, or just plain weird ME out (that is quite the accomplishment). I’m tired of being crazy, and feeling helpless to fix it.

Mostly, I’m terrified at what we’ll do if I have to be in here much longer. This needs to get fixed soon, or at least fixed enough so I can pretend to be better. The weight of real life and expectation sits heavy on my shoulders, and I can’t ignore it much longer.

So much for summer vacation huh? Not that it’s very summery out-it’s fucking rainy and grey and miserable. AGAIN.

Canada Day-Rained OUT :(

1 Jul

We decided to go downtown to experience some good Canada day fun, but in usual Canadian fashion, it rained, as it does most Canada Day’s (and Labour Day’s) thairos.jpg

During the first rain delay, we decided to go to one of my most favorite restaurants, the local thai place. Which, with small children who aren’t used to behaving in restaurants, can be a joy. The food rocked my mouth as usual, but I was eating too fast to notice.

Rosalyn enjoyed the skewers and the fake flowers however. Vivian enjoyed seeing how far she could drive her mother. thaiviv.jpgThe waitress told me I was lucky I could take my kids there since most kids don’t like their food. Like that matters to kids who, if the decide not to, won’t eat anything.

 We ventured out again after picking vermicelli off everything, seeing how far we could get before it rained again. Turns out that isn’t very far at all! But the girls got balloon animals that Rosalyn didn’t want and Vivian made explode, Vivian beat some kids up in a bouncy castle, had some older kid yell at her for wacking them with balloons and got a puppy painted on her face.










Why do puppies always end up looking like strung out rabbits when painted on faces?vivpup.jpg


Rosalyn was happy just to maintain control of the umbrella throughout. There’s nothing like being denied cover by a 2 year old to make you humble.





So we missed all the fun stuff like Chinese dancers and music that we really wanted to see. Vivian got her first experience in an outhouse which thankfully wasn’t as smelly as I figured, but we still had to talk about the stuff IN the toilet.

Then it REALLY started to pour, so we called a cab and ran home like sissies.


It’s a beautiful day!

9 Jun

FINALLY. sheesh. I thought it would be winter forEVER.

Rosalyn Stares You Down

Last night was pretty nice as well. Had to work all day, which is a JOY with two kids around at this age. Actually, Vivian isn’t that bad. Rosalyn though…sigh. Next year will be easier at least. I just hate that I end up having to stick them in front of the TV when I’m on a call. Can’t be helped I suppose. Plus, today, they’ll get barely any. Today, they’re out getting LOTS of Vitamin D.



Earlier we went for a walk, with me getting suckered at various yard sales. Anything I would want I either never carry the cash for, or wouldn’t be able to lug home anyway. Oh well. The girls got some dinky cars out of it.

Last night we went to meet Mogo coming off the bus, and on the way home, the girls started rolling around in the grass.

They do like each other, I swear.

Now Rosalyn is getting mad because she dumped her cold water all over herself. I cannot wait to see what this kid is like in 10 years….




The cherry on top of a perfect week

17 May

First I feel like I want to die.

Then the cat gets sick.

Then it snows.

Now I’M sick. My throat hurts, my head is congested and it feels like it will get worse before it gets better.

Can this week be stricken from the record?

ETA: AND on the last Price is Right with Bob, they didn’t play Plinko. WTF?


9 May

will be 25C, and guess where I’ll be?

If you said work, you’re right!

And friday, which I have off? A whopping 9C. With RAIN.

Bastards. Someone does this on purpose to me, I just know it.

Blech-I hate “spring” in canada

5 May

Last weekend with my father around.

So of course I’m broke. I need new pants since my thighs have yet AGAIN wore through, but I have no money to go get any. I could use a haircut. I’d love a pedicure/manicure.

It’s my last weekend with “escape potential” until he returns in the fall. The weather could at least cooperate, but there is a chance of wet flurries today.

You heard me. Wet. FLURRIES.

I hate this province. I HATE IT. Where I grew up, it’s nice and spring like already. If we’re lucky, that will happen here late last week.

The same thing happened on my last maternity leave. The entire May it was fucking freezing. June 1, when I went back to work, it was 75F outside. I am so goddammed sick of cold shitty weather. If I could, I’d throw a shoe at the weather, hoping to smack it in the head. I find I just get more and more depressed because this weather will not relent. And it’s not like it’s just cloudy out, it’s freezing cold. And it’s going to rain.

And my father is leaving, and I can’t get out, can’t even go work in the yard because it’s too fricken cold and wet.

Sigh….anyone have 500.00 they can spare so I can escape for awhile? I love my kids, but I love being able to get out and do stuff with them.

I’ll also be starting the fucked up summer shifts I have to work soon too. Which means working my full 40 hours in a few days, and still being available on the other days. This is what we do to survive without childcare. Thankfully it’s not all year long. I cannot wait until the day when I can just work mon-fri, 9-5 all the time without worry.

At least Vivian is finally out of diapers. Chalk up a victory to us!

oh, and Ros can say she loves me now. It’s not all doom and gloom around here.

While I’m thinking about it though, please go give Gwen some shoulders. She needs a few.