Magic… a love letter to myself

I am magic.

I need to give myself more credit for the
iridescence, humour & light
I bring into my world

I infuse my days with magic like
the scent of jasmine on the wind,
lilacs in the garden,
patchouli in an old bookshop.

My magic is not a trick.
It is not saved for entertaining others
or for applause.

It is in my fingertips, in the quiet
of my “Shh, listen…”.
It is in my thoughts
that sometimes leak out
onto paper or pigment on a brush
landing on canvas in the form
of a portrait.

My magic is not for everybody.
I stick out like a sore thumb
even when I am trying to hide,
or when I am trying to be seen & heard,
there is no way to jump into the conversation.
Not everyone appreciates my magic.

Sometimes I am too loud.
Sometimes I cannot speak a word.
Selectively mute, I hear it is called.

My magic is in every cell of my body.
My Neurons fire like fairies
in a field, holding mullein torches.
They are dancing just for me.

When I was 22, a poem woke me up
in the middle of the night.
I wonder how it nudged me awake?
It never said.

The words fell from above.
I grabbed paper and scrawled
the words, page after page
as quickly as I was able.
Eight pages, single spaced when I
typed it up the next day.

A poem called Birthright
and I still have not decoded its mystery.
It is magic just like me.

I am a poem that fell out of thin air.
Someone scribed me into the form
of a body and named me Melanie.
Like the poem, it is my birthright.

I want to spend the rest of my days
exploring the magic that was gifted to me.
This lifetime, mercurial & filled with stardust
& dirt beneath my nails, is my chance
to dance in my own light.
Neurons firing in the light of my magic,
they are dancing just for me.

Always look in the box

This is the story about a little girl who would admire a tiny hourglass in her grandma’s kitchen. It was over towards the wall phone and fridge. Did grandma keep it on a shelf or atop the fridge? This is where my memory fails me. I never asked her where she got it. Was it a gift? It only recently occurred to me that she probably bought it as a souvenir in Mexico or it was given to her as a gift from somewhere more exotic than southwestern Ontario. Anyway, as a child, it was the hourglass. A wooden hourglass with hand painted flowers and filled with hot pink sand. Magic. She’d get it out when we played a game that required a time limit. I wasn’t so great at focusing on games. In fact, it was a point of conversation for family members to discuss how little Melanie couldn’t sit long enough to finish any game. Except maybe Uno. Maybe I was more focused on the exquisite perfection of the sand timer.

Moving the story forward a few decades. When my grandma died, I inherited the hourglass. Yes, it was that important to me. I even scrapbooked about it, along with other items that had been passed down to me. I should look for that layout. Then a few years ago, I noticed the timer missing from its spot. Panic. Lamenting. Ruminating. Sadness. Grief. I couldn’t go more than a few weeks without wondering aloud where oh where had my hourglass gone. Did someone take it? I built scenarios of people sneaking off with it. Had my hourglass ended up in the wrong hands and is now lying broken and shattered in a landfill?

So, last month around Halloween, I asked my ancestors to help me find it. I mean, why not, right?

The other day I was in the basement with my husband trying to make sense of all the clutter we’ve collected over the years. I was scavenging for things to give away. I wasn’t planning to part with any of the numerous games stacked on two IKEA bookshelves but then I decided there must be something there which we’ll no longer play. I found two boxes and handed them to my husband as I instructed him to look carefully inside. I said “You never know, this might be where we placed those lost lottery tickets worth millions”. One year, we were given lotto tickets and couldn’t find them by the time we’d traveled home and unpacked our bags. Sadly, there was nothing extra in the boxes. With one final glance at the shelves, I grabbed a kids game that I didn’t even remember that we had. I couldn’t imagine we’d play it again. I was about to hand it to my husband when I remembered what I’d just told him. So, I peered inside and started making very odd loud noises. My husband rushed to my side in great alarm. Was I ill? What nightmare had I just found? No, no, it was just my beautiful hourglass nestled inside the box.

I find it remarkable that right before I found it I’d given myself exactly the instructions I needed to look carefully inside boxes for missing items. Clearly, my intuition was sending me signals! I can’t stress enough how relieved and excited I was to be reunited with this heirloom. The flip side of my relief was the horrible “what if” I hadn’t looked inside the box. What if after all these years of this sweet little keepsake being hidden in plain sight, I’d given it away freely and unknowingly? I hate the thoughts that haunt me. Thankfully, that little voice told me to look inside the box. You never know what you’ll find.

Blue + moon cratered

Where does it hurt?

I have unlimited strengths and weaknesses. My eyes are pretty. Blue and moon cratered. They crinkle at the corner when I smile, like I can see in my paternal/maternal great grandmother’s photo. My eyelids are those of my maternal/maternal great grandmother. My irises, they belong to her husband, my great grandfather.

There is a history of pain and sorrow. I can feel it flow through me. My whole life I’ve wondered why I am the way I am. Is it just me? Is it my fault or weakness? Where did I come from?

In my search, gifts of knowledge and wisdom have found me. I accept them and gingerly unwrap the offering.

Console me, little one
feathered friend said “Hello!”
You’ve found me here from
centuries ago.
The last time we spoke
I was in flight.
on a ship made of timber & steel.

On the night my maternal grandma was dying, I paced my parent’s backyard. I would have been at the hospital but this was during SARS in the early aughts. It was a balmy late spring evening when everything seems green, blue tinged, muted, fresh, and the grass feels cool after releasing the day’s heat.

I spoke to my Grandma in my mind. It didn’t matter whether she could hear me but I thought it was reasonable to think she could. My body is tethered to place but my mind is expansive.

I told my Grandma that she was loved but it was time to go, that it was okay to go and she didn’t need to stay any longer for us. I assured her that we’d be okay and always love her.

I left the yard to lie down inside on my bed. I’d had a busy day at my new job setting up a store opening in just days. I was awake lulled by the silence of waiting, punctuated by the sound of my dad brushing his teeth down the hallway. Without warning, I choked on my breath, feeling suffocated. The feeling left as quickly as it came. I yelled out asking my Dad if he thought Grandma had just died. He replied “How would I know?” and went back to his brushing.

I continued to lie there in the darkened room when several minutes later the phone rang. My Dad answered and reported back to me that my Grandma had died 15 minutes before. My dad raised his eyebrows and maybe, somewhat, he was slightly less skeptical of me after that night.

My Grandma was not one to share her family history. The last time I tried to question her about her childhood, she arranged for me to drive us to Delhi for lunch with my Great Aunts. After lunch I was going to interview them on video tape. The Aunts looked confused when I said it was probably time to set up in the living room. Grandma had tricked me. She hadn’t even told them my plan. The actual plan? I was to be their chauffeur to the nearest casino and my consolation prize was a roll of quarters to spend on slots. After my Grandma and Aunts had played their luck and all the money was lost to the glitter and glamour of money eating machines, we found ourselves at a local restaurant dining on soup and bread because funds were now slim. If memory serves me, I footed the bill or maybe it was just the tip, because the bill was higher than they expected. I never did get my questions answered but I am incredibly grateful for that amusing day spent with my Great Aunts and Grandma.

Now my Grandma is making up for what she wasn’t able to share when alive. I believe she’s orchestrating behind the scenes, weaving ancestral threads, nudging me to take action. She walks with me from where she stands on the other side.

decadent embrace of mystery
i hoped to find myself here sooner
but i was lost in thought
for far too long

vertebrae
tectonic plates
shifting wonders of the world
karmic debts being repaid
in blood and lust
of pain and suffering

we were wrong
believing the stories
we were all told
manifest destiny
promises of a journey to
prosperity
lands of gold & ownership
entitlement & superiority
dismissing the cautions of fairy tales
as flights of fancy
ignored at our own peril
truth and fiction
my life is a blur
i believed in a linear path
where humanity becomes better
i feel betrayed
i want to be better

Every family has a lineage of gifts and grievances, passed down one generation to the next. This inheritance shows up in different ways. One cousin might become a surgeon, gifted with mental clarity, skilled dexterity, and a strong desire to heal others. Perhaps even then with a lifetime of A+ report cards, prestigious accomplishments, financial security, and helping others, they feel shame that they’re not enough, that they can never be enough, without knowing why they feel this way. Tendrils of that shame poisoning every area of their life. A cousin might love to embroider complicated patterns while absorbing knowledge from every podcast and audiobook they can fit into their day. A compassionate soul, curious about the world, wishing for fairness and kindness in the world, while struggling with the day-to-day life of a chronic illness. Their warm inner light dimmed by shame of not feeling like enough in a world that doesn’t always include them. Another cousin might have the most incredible imagination that could fuel their success in any direction but they choose a more practical life that doesn’t make waves, and checks off the boxes, leaving them empty and struggling. If only they’d known how to embrace their inner magic and to use those skills at work and in life. This cousin finding other ways to cope, unhealthy ways to find fulfillment while dulling the ache of knowing they’ve betrayed themselves.

I’ve delved into genealogy for over two decades. Starting out knowing little more than a few snippets of hearsay about my Great Grandparents and a particular family legend or two. What I’ve learned from cemetery searches, government records, and historical references is that I’m made up of people trying to survive, trying to make something of themselves, trying to overcome an often harsh environment. Men in their roles as farmers, soldiers, paupers, factory workers, and masons. Women playing their parts as life bringers and caregivers. Heroes in the background. People leaving behind what was familiar in search of something better in a land new to them. I don’t blame them for likely believing they were superior by race and religion, or for inhabiting land that wasn’t theirs to settle. The men likely believed they were the superior sex. The women likely felt shame internalizing the notion that they were inferior to men. Or inherently wicked, even. Some were more than willing to enslave others because they were told it was acceptable to do so, maybe even “God’s Will”. Some likely rebelled even if only in their heart of hearts. I don’t believe most people have bad intentions for the harms they cause. They are born into a complicated web of rules, expectations, and hypocrisies. The parts of ourselves that we learn are not acceptable, we shove to the back corner of our minds, and we perpetuate the myths we’ve been told are true. We reinforce the message that we are something that deep down we know we are not. That message passes from one generation to the next with a defensive and dogmatic arrogance, invisibly coated with shame and regret. We are the victims and the perpetrators.

My love of genealogy has expanded to include Ancestral work. I don’t know what death looks like when loved ones shift to ancestors. I don’t know what work it takes for dead people to become self-actualized or healed. I don’t know how quickly the deceased see beyond their life experience to where they can see the threads of connection, the causes and effects of actions or inaction, or the cycles of victim and perpetrator. I don’t know what abilities souls gain upon death, and what limits them. I don’t know where they wish for reconciliation, or how they’re able to initiate it. Do they need a living person to set the intention? There’s so much I don’t know and that I yearn to know.

As a descendant, it is up to me to be honest about those who came before me. To see their strengths and their weaknesses in the midst of the worldview they likely held. It’s up to me to scrutinize the lens through which I see the world, made up of opinions of others. It is incredibly hard to unlearn what we’ve been taught directly or subconsciously from a young age. We inflict so much harm on ourselves and others simply because we did not know better. Or we knew things felt wrong and could be better, but we had no idea how to make that change. Or we’re so attached to our defence mechanisms, we can’t even grasp what pain we are inflicting. It’s my job to show gratitude for my ancestral inheritance, hold a space where I can have compassion for the struggles of the human condition, while also holding my ancestors accountable. It’s my job to decide where I will no longer participate in passing on a behaviour or belief that causes harm. For any damage I’ve done, it is up to me to take ownership of it and to make amends. This is how I can reconcile the past.

Just some thoughts swirling in my mind as I read over notes I’d written months ago in a women’s writing circle, that I decided needed to be shared on a Sunday afternoon in mid-November.

Not a single word in this rhymes with Nantucket.

I haven’t blogged since July 2020. Entangled in the mire of madness of public opinion, I no longer wanted to blog or put myself “out there” on social media. So many voices spouting their opinions, no faces to gauge the legitimacy or substance of their words. I went into hibernation hoping to wake up in a new spring of hope for humanity.

Two years later and my hope for humanity is considerably diminished. The time away has given me plenty of pause to consider my part in humanity. Who I am, what I want, where I wish to go, and who I want beside me on that path. I’ve decided to start blogging again and I hope this continues past this one post.

Lately, there have been reoccurring themes of community and socialization popping up in my life. Everyone, expert and layperson alike can agree on the importance of community. We all need to feel connected to others. I’m not sure anyone will completely disagree that humans are social creatures.

Yet, there is one area where I have a bone to pick.

I’ll get back to that meaty bone in just one moment. Bear with me.

Staring out at my garden, saturated in rain, I felt my body relax. Checkpoints in my garden still there, each one increasing my sense of ease. Roses, three about to bloom. Such relief as this is my oldest mini rose bush and it was all but decimated earlier this summer by bean beetles. Mullein stalks. Quite a gruesome sight, all wilted and brown but equally impressive is their height. I stare at them wondering how and when I will use them as winter torches. Black eyed Susans. They are everywhere. I need to dig them up and relocate them to the side of my house and I’m worried whether I’ll damage the hollyhocks growing in their midst.

I. AM. AT. PEACE.

I. FEEL. CONNECTED.

Who would argue that it isn’t important to get out into nature? Nearly every mental health post and expert advocates for going out into nature as a way to cope with stress. Right up there, next to the importance of socializing and engaging in your community. Yet, they are separate talking points. I’ll get back to this.

Tell me to get into nature. Sure, yes, no problem. Sounds great. Easy Peasy. Simple as opening a window and taking a deep breath, or standing barefoot outside, or checking the mail across the street, or eating outside for lunch. I think we sometimes forget that nature includes all elements. I’d go so far to say that if you’re limited in ways to spend in nature, you could have a bath or shower. Even just splashing water on your face can help. Water is nature too.

Tell me to socialize. Unease. What do you mean by socialize? Immediately I feel pressure and judgment. I feel panic to perform. I feel shame and guilt for not doing it right, or not wanting to do it at all. Socializing feels like it has secret rules that I can’t quite live up to, even if I knew the rules. It feels like an accusation, as if it is something I haven’t done right before I’ve even started trying.

Tell me about community. I feel excluded. I am at the edges, fraying from my own sense of self. I often don’t see my place within the whole, and sometimes I just don’t want to. Other times, my voice just gets lost, or talked over, or ignored all together. Or I become mute and cannot find the words that don’t materialize past thought. Sometimes my voice is loud and clear, and sends out ripples where people stop and stare and I wonder what imaginary line I’ve crossed. An agreed upon line by a group of others that does not include me. And on rare occasion, people see value in what I have to say. I engage in hopes of the latter.

And so, I have a visceral reaction to the words “socialization” and “community”. Interactions, obligations, the people-y world outside my home, often feels toxic. As if what is a vital, much needed nectar for others is somehow a poison for me.

I cannot deny that I crave connection and a place where I can be myself with likeminded people. I am not anti-social.

Staring out at the trees (I see you Basswood, Maple, and Sumac), and the many plants I know by sight and not by name, I feel companionship in a way I do not with people.

There it is, my bone to pick.

My community is made up of plant people, stone people, wind people, water people, and sure yeah, animal people too, which occasionally includes human. Although, I prefer cats. I can feel reinvigorated after a walk in the woods (what’s left of it), a swim in the pool, or even after a brief moment peering up at the stars in the midst of winter. I have engaged with my world and I did not feel alone.

On occasion, I walk with others in the woods and we have a nice time. It’s good to catch up and share thoughts. I notice I tend to overlook nature when I’m focusing on the conversation. Sometimes afterwards, I even feel a bit of regret that I wasn’t paying attention to the part I enjoy most on walks. The walk doesn’t quite fill me up (No offence if I’ve taken a nature walk with you). Afterwards, I have to undo all the tension that built up from human exposure. The processing of what was said, what wasn’t said, what was felt, what was implied, what was inferred, what was uncomfortable, what was pleasant, and what lingers as afterthought. It weighs on me. Yet, this is the community and socialization that comes so highly recommended to me.

All the people concerned about my well-being will agree that I need community and socialization as well as time in nature, but never quite make the connection that being in nature for me is community. It is where I socialize best and with the least harm to my self. Why is this not enough? Why is nature interaction not seen as equal to human interaction? I will acknowledge I contradict myself in one way, as humans themselves are nature. Since most of us humans perceive ourselves as something separate and elevated from the rest of nature, I think it’s safe to say I can mention the two as distinct for the sake of my argument.

In my search for my own humanity over the past two or so years, I’m having an increasing awareness of how much my humanness is a fraction of my nature, and that I do not have to limit myself to a life structured around acceptable forms of socialization or culture. My associations and meeting places do not need to be two legged, or four walled, or spoken in words, or made of plaster.

And when I do show up, not out of obligation but of interest, you can be sure it’s because I am connecting to your true nature. I’m not really interested in anything less.

Practical Animism, indeed.

I was sitting down to study this week’s Practical Animism lesson before my online class on Zoom. Ok, I was googling hanging cocoon chairs. But the intent was there. My daughter was about to bake cupcakes when she called out to me “Cuddles has a mouse!”. Whaaaatttt? I grabbed a container before running out to the front foyer. We had a mouse cause considerable damage in our basement two winters ago and my heart sank thinking we’d be repeating that disaster. Where there is one mouse, are there more? How did it get in? The other day one of our cats kept dashing out the door. In the effort of trying to retrieve her, I’d left the door open until I chased her back inside. Maybe it ran in then? An hour later my neighbour pointed out that our other cat was in the flower garden. She’d initially thought it was a raccoon. Oh, Kitcat! Maybe Kitcat brought her in. I’d only seen her backside as she dashed back inside. Cross my fingers this was the only mouse wandering our halls.

The sweet little mouse was frozen with fear. Its little legs splayed out behind it, its heart beating wildly. I placed a container on it anyway as I had expected it would dash. “It’s in shock”, I told my daughter. I went to get my husband but he was in a work call. I placed a sheet of watercolour paper under the container and we carried it outside to the front step. We debated whether it was a mouse, a mole, or a vole. We decided on vole. Our neighbour came by and we asked for an opinion. He said “that’s a field mouse”. We googled and field mice are often voles. So, my daughter and decided it’s our little field mouse vole.

Of course my daughter wanted to keep it. I explained how these sweet little critters are carriers of disease. Some of which I already have. So, no, that’s not an option. I told her the many ways that voles can destroy my gardens and my house. We decided to take it across the street to the back of the park where there’s a wooded ravine. Ravine might be an exaggeration. A wooded ditch.

Our friend, vole that my daughter named “Blue Diamond” wasn’t keen on scurrying off. Its legs were still weak. Over the next half hour we watched it crawl around sniffing ants and hiding under leaves, while trying to get comfortable. We wondered if it was still in shock and would it recover, or whether it was coming out of shock but its body still needed time to recover. We were leaning towards the latter.

When we had first gotten to the edge of the park and lifted the lid off the paper, I asked for the rodent people to come aid our friend. My daughter thought that sounded awful. “People?”, she asked. People? I said that people don’t have to be humans. Rodent people, stone people, water people, all sorts of people. I had expected she didn’t like the word “rodent”. It’s not my favourite. I just wasn’t sure if I should say mouse or vole. I continued to ask for the vole’s ancestors to guide it to a safe place and to let it know it is being helped.

At one point the vole had found a particularly comfy spot but we thought it needed shade so we placed some leaves in the right spot. It had its little nose sniffing the ground. It’s eyes were open fully and that seemed encouraging. It’s heartbeat was still rapid. It became a heaving. I wondered if it was having a seizure or just trying to sniff something on the ground.

Meanwhile, a dirt biker zipped into the park towards us and I got up waving my arms for it to leave. It’s illegal for vehicles to be in the park but they always think the rules don’t apply to them. But today, I really just didn’t need the added noise and vibration to bother my new friend. The biker nodded and did a stunt off the nearby hill and zipped through to the other side of the park and left.

My attention returned to little vole. Its legs seemed more active and there didn’t appear to be injuries but it was clearly weak. My daughter and I were hoping to return home soon but wanted to make sure vole had recovered enough to scurry into the woods.

And then, vole suddenly turned on it’s side and we thought perhaps it was finally regaining full use of its limbs. But then it went still. Oh no. Pause. Stillness. Is it…? Sigh, yes. Vole had returned home to meet its maker. I spoke to its ancestors again.

I asked my daughter if we should bury it. She wanted to bury it in the backyard where she has buried bees and other creatures. She was understandably inconsolable. Using a tiny stick we placed vole back onto the paper and placed the lid over it and carried it home. We collected flowers from my garden. She selected a stone. My daughter pointed out the burial site which is situated around a tree stump. I dug out deep enough. She would have preferred six feet deep but settled for the six inches I was willing to dig. She placed a maple leaf for it be cushioned on. We said some prayers and blessings as I placed vole on the leaf. She placed a raspberry, from her own bush, in its arms. She added the dirt back on to our friend and placed the stone upright as a marker. She placed the flowers and we took some photos to memorialize our friend, Blue Diamond Vole.

And now we’re back in the house. I sent her off to watch a Studio Ghibli movie in the craft room and I wanted to write this down, before attending my class which goes live in 10 minutes.

I am saddened that vole had to die but I am thankful for the gift it shared with us today. I explained to my daughter that we shared a very sacred moment with it as it transitioned to a different world. She is hopeful it will come back as a future pet. Perhaps.

Was stuffy in that spiritual closet

I’m out. I admit it. My brain is woo. Always has been, always will be. I hid it because people don’t take woo seriously. Can’t say I blame them. Mostly, I hid because it meant no one was taking ME seriously. But having been in the closet the past 20 years I began to realize that no one takes me particularly seriously anyway. I was basically just making myself grey and colourless in order to attempt to fit in where I didn’t even want to be. Kind of pointless.

In my advocating for Lyme disease, I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter how well versed I am in scientific research, or how politely and softly I try to speak, minds closed to accepting other points of view do not open simply because I have been rational and scientific. So, I might as well just be me, since I get judged anyway. I don’t think I’ve been very good at hiding my true self anyway. Little rainbows and irridescent sparks of glitter must shoot out of me no matter how hard I try to stuff that life back into my hiding places. I’m about as good at hiding my uniqueness as I am at stifling an eye roll.

I’ve made myself small and have given away my power. I have tried to play by other people’s rules, have failed, and allowed myself to be victimized. To be honest, I’m still not sure how to change that. It’s hard to find your voice, to assert your power, and put up boundaries. When I’ve tried, it does not go over well. I’ll get there.

So, let me tell you about something interesting and annoying that happened today.

Last night I was finishing a book called “Signs“. It is written by the psychic medium Laura Lynne Jackson. She writes about asking for and recognizing signs from loved ones who have passed to the Other Side. Also, interesting to note that her daughter has Lyme Disease.

• 

As I was finishing the book, I thought about how hard it was for me when my Grandpa died. I was seventeen and was desperate to make contact with him. Through dreams or signs. Whatever. I missed him terribly. Last night, I thought about how I didn’t notice any signs from him. Or more likely, I missed them if he did send them. Then I recalled the night I looked at the sky and saw my Grandpa’s silhouette. Now that is a sign. One I both accepted and dismissed. Infact, last night I wondered if I was remembering that quite right. It would be nice to think that was in fact a sign.

This morning, I was watching a Facebook Live video. The person was explaining an exercise in manifesting things you want in your life. I commented that I wanted to manifest a clean basement but worried the universe would make it happen in a way I wouldn’t like. For example, by flooding my basement.

Since I was afraid to ask for the universe’s help decluttering my basement, I decided to clean it myself. I told the kids we were going to spend 20 minutes cleaning. Something small but doable.

That didn’t last more than 10 minutes because I found a bin with some of my memorabilia and artwork. Stuff I actually wanted to keep. It was all sopping wet and beginning to mold. I was livid. I won’t go into why I was livid but trust me, I was. The kids gave me their condolences and I told them they could go back to whatever they were doing before cleaning. I took the bin outside to see what had been destroyed. Most would have to go in the garbage because I can’t have mold in my life. Health hazard. So many things from Japan that I’d wanted to keep. Artwork. Writings. Luckily there was one packet wrapped in a plastic bag.

I thought my earlier comment about fearing decluttering due to flooding to be all the more interesting. Here I was not 20 minutes later decluttering my water damaged belongings. Yeah.

• 

  Ruined drawing

• 

  Ruined Tori Poster

• 

  Ruined clippings from Japan

• 

  Ruined Collaged Poster

Later, I checked Facebook and there was a comment about a toilet photo on Instagram. I had to laugh because in my bin of damaged mementos, I found a piece of writing from high school English class. The assignment was stream of consciousness writing while listening to horrible music selected by the teacher. Two random lines grabbed my attention, “Did you know I’m a social toilet? Well, it’s true. A social toilet is what I am.” No further expansion on what that meant. Extra weird because the person who posted about their toilet photo on Instagram shares my first name.

Then I found a piece of paper that was maybe a journal entry. Not sure. I’ll type it up below.

How interesting that less than a day from remembering that night sky that resembled my Grandpa, I find the piece of paper that describes it.

I want to be really angry that my stuff was ruined but honestly, I had procrastinated sorting through it and organizing it. A lot I was ready to let go of. Finding this piece of paper would likely not have happened for quite some time. So, it is what it is. Most of all, it was good thinking about my Grandpa.

So, I’m sharing this story because it feels better to tell people what I’m experiencing than it is to constantly hide my stories. I want to live in a world where there is wonder and magic. Where my soul sings and my chest and heart don’t feel heavy. I want to feel healthy. There is no point in hiding who I am just so that others will possibly accept the version of me I present to them. That’s not a good way to live.

So here I am.

The Mindful Lymie

The sun is shining. The air is warmish. April has left all the fools behind and now we can release a collective sigh…. Ahhhh. Spring will arrive!

With the advent of Spring, I’m always eager to try something new and/or clean up my past. I was lying in bed thinking how I’m so tired of not creating anything. I want to watercolour, scrapbook, collage, and write poetry. I sign up for online classes hoping they’ll motivate me. When I have the energy, I attempt to create but cannot find the focus and give up after a few minutes. Or I quickly become fatigued or uncomfortable. Or I have the focus and motivation but not the energy.

I’m not alone. I belong to a few Facebook groups for people struggling with Lyme disease. The question of how we spend our time has come up in conversation before. I had an “aha” moment this morning.

1. I need to find a way to create. Even if only for a few minutes a day.
2. Creativity is an important part of healing.
3. Other Lyme sufferers need an outlet for creativity but face the same limitations as me.

So, I’m starting a Facebook Group called “The Mindful Lymie“. Each month I’ll have a list. Each day will have a prompt. Members of the group will then take the prompt and create something. Anything! A poem, a photograph, a sentence, a collage, a drawing, or even a Facebook post. It really doesn’t matter. The purpose is to take a few moments a day to make something new, to focus on possibilities, and to express yourself. Creativity is not about being a great artist. It’s simply about making something.

I’ll encourage members to then share whatever it is they created. Or to even just talk about whatever comes to their mind regarding the prompt. We share similar struggles but most of the support groups are about symptoms, treatments, and advocacy. All very important issues that don’t leave a lot of room for anything else. Creativity is a great way to express feelings, struggles and pain. It can be cathartic, joyful or just plain fun. At the very least, it can be a distraction!

Here is the April list of Prompts.

Here is my attempt for April 2nd.

So, if you or one of your family or close friends has Lyme disease, please join my group, the Mindful Lymie!

Getting Ridiculous!

It wasn’t that long ago that I found out that my MSIDS (Multiple Systemic Infectious Disease Syndrome) was a large contributor of my crazy dreams. Ok, I’ve always been a vivid dreamer but the past couple years my internal dream machine has been thrown into overdrive. My theory is that the more boring my life becomes because of this debilitating disease, the more my dreams try to make up for it! I’ll spare you the details. I need a switch to turn that stuff off!

 

I woke up this morning blogging in my head again. I’m trying to remember what exactly I said. Something about hatred. A friend recently posted on her Facebook wall about the nature of hatred. My takeaway was that hatred is when you wish something did not exist. Ah, that’s right, I was thinking about something I hated. Now what was it? Cicadas! Yes, I realized that I don’t actually hate Cicadas. I just hate their sound. If they could exist silently, I’d be a much happier person. I had this thought upon awakening because the constant ringing in my ears reminded me of Cicadas. 24/7 Cicadas. I do hate tinnitus.

I spend a lot of time talking about dreaming, waking up, and napping. I sense a theme, don’t you? My life revolves around sleeping. I tried to stay awake all day. I sat on my closet floor organizing clothes and stacks of paper that have been tucked away in bins for far too long. It felt good to take on a task. I keep hoping I’ll slowly declutter and clean this house inch by inch. After I quit my task (note, I did not say finish or complete my task) I went to run my bath water. I grabbed the bathroom cleaner and a sponge and scrubbed the baseboards and tiles as the tub filled. I didn’t even care that it made my body ache because I knew I’d be soaking in the tub. It occurred to me that this was a great way to get things done. I’m going to be more mindful about how I can accomplish tasks in small time fragments.

I caved by mid-afternoon and napped away the rest of the daylight. It was a good sleep at least. Now I am going to plan out the goals I’d like to achieve this week. I won’t schedule specific time for them as I can’t predict when I’ll feel up to the task. That just leaves me feeling tense, agitated, and frustrated. Instead, I’ll keep the tasks in mind and dedicate moments when I can.

It’s all going to come together! I just need to reframe how I view my life. Things can get done and I can feel useful again. It’s just a matter of readjusting my outlook. Wish me luck!

Well, that wasn’t fun!

The morning is almost gone and I had no idea. I developed a bad headache yesterday. Nothing new. I almost always have a headache to some degree. It worsened with every tick of the clock. My sleep was spiked with unbearable pain. While drifting from dream to clarity, I pondered what deems pain unbearable? What is a pain scale? If 0 out of 10= no pain, then is 5 a lot of pain or just a regular headache? Is 10 the worst ever pain or just a migraine? Can you go off the scale? Is it subjective? What are the RULES? I decided I was off the scale and wondered if a hammer would end all my struggles. Around 4am, I wanted to go to the kitchen and get a drink of water and an ice-cold pack for my noggin but I couldn’t move. I needed to not move. To stay in the same exact spot and try not to anger the headache god any further. I did however manage to grab my phone from the nightstand and text my husband a plea to not wake me at 7 and to get the kids ready and on the bus for school. There was begging involved. Why did I text him, you ask. I was sleeping in my daughter’s bed and she was sleeping on her pretty awesome new fold out bed mat thing next to me on the floor. Dysfunctional household? Perhaps. Let’s not judge.

My dear husband respected my wishes and even brought me a cold pack, coffee and medication. At some point I found my way back to my actual bed and propped my neck with a bean filled neck rest and a cold pack, sipped the coffee, swallowed the meds (which I doubted would help), applied another cold pack to my forehead, pulled up my divinely soft and warm blanket over my cold and clammy body and drifted off to sleep. Right before unconsciousness I questioned where my eye mask went but darkness quickly overcame me before I could answer the question.

I woke up and was disgruntled that I hadn’t slept. I was certain it was only 9:30. My headache was down from some ungodly number to what I would call an “8”. Progress! I was so snuggly in bed but needed to get up and feed my belly to keep the headache away. The clock read 11:03. What? Wow, I can’t remember when time passed by without my being acutely aware of it. No wonder I felt refreshed.

What is weird is that when I awoke I was writing blog posts in my mind. Words were flowing so fast and freely. Instead of attempting to put them down right now, I’m instead telling you a more mundane story. I don’t really have a good reason why. Just describing my morning.

Now I’m not completely off the hook for feeling “better” now that my headache has settled down somewhat. My hands are shaky. Perhaps from the medicine I took? Now let’s be clear. It wasn’t strong meds. It was two Tylenol and a sinus pill. It was only half a coffee. All of which were taken hours ago. I’ve eaten food. But the shakes are not leaving. I had a bath (standing in the shower was too much effort) an hour ago and feel nice and clean but I’m still sweating. My upper lip perspires constantly. It’s the damn Babesia polluting my body.

Oh, and did I mention why I think my headache was so intensely rotten? I started a new medication to treat my bartonella. In my usual half aware state, I took the full dose yesterday. I’d forgotten that I’m supposed to gradually increase from 1 drop to 10 drops over the course of a couple weeks. The adverse effect of taking too much at once? A Herx. That means the medicine worked so well, it killed off some of the illness but too much too fast and left me reeling. That’s my layman’s explanation anyway.

Ok, I’ve reached the point where I need to put the computer away and rest.

And as always, a picture for all your trouble. Until next time, take care….

Books I’m attempting to read this week.

How shall I use my spoons today?

An average healthy person has unlimited energy in a day, assuming they eat well and take breaks now and then. Let’s say a spoon is required for each act they perform. They’d have more than enough spoons to get them through the day. An unwell person has limited stores of energy and must make conscious choices on how they will use their small stash of spoons.

This morning I feel like I have a million spoons! How awesome is that? I know! However, from experience I know that feeling will change almost without warning. I’m sitting here trying to decide how to use my spoons. I was slightly tempted to go to the store but I know that will use up all of my spoons and I have a list of things to accomplish this evening. I have to ration my energy. Ok, so what can I do that will only slightly deplete my energy? I signed up for an online watercolour course by Mindy Lacefield so maybe I could finally sit at my craft table and put brush to paper? Or I could get some computer work done? Or I could try to tame the mess that is taking over my house and choking my sanity? No way… that one would put me out for weeks! Ugh, what to do?

I gave my 16-year-old long haired tortoise shell Persian cat a haircut the other day. She hated it. I hated it. It had to be done. She had matted hair because she refuses to be brushed. She must have been relieved because she’s been at my side ever since. She keeps pawing me for my attention. I cut her nails too but they keep digging into my arm. My arm is bleeding. I really wish she’d stop. I can only pet her so many hours of the day. It’s incredible that she wants my attention so badly. Usually she sleeps in her cat bed 23 hours of the day and our 1 year old cat vies for my attention. I love her but she’s driving me batty! Not only is she pawing me to possible death, she’s also drooling on me. Poor sweet Chloe!

I’m so clumsy. Soon after my Lyme disease symptoms appeared (long before a diagnosis) I began to lose my grip. Jars, cans and objects would fall from my hands. I thought things weren’t as bad now but maybe I’m just used to it? Things don’t get placed where I am aiming. Cups fly across the room or crash to the floor when I was simply setting them on the counter. Today I managed to spill tomato sauce on the counter, spill spoonfuls of rice onto the floor, and send a bag of dates flying out of the fridge. All before 8:30am! I’d keep a safe distance if you see anything breakable or heavy in my hands. It is frustrating.

My mantra has become “it could always be worse, much worse”.

Chloe has finally settled into sleep on my left hand. I can still manage to type, mostly. I’m just relieved she’s not scratching me. Her scratches are itchy. I should buy stock in Polysporin. I’m not too worried about infection because I’m already on two antibiotics and several herbal supplements. I am already fighting Bartonella (cat scratch fever) that I acquired from the tick bite. Kind of a bonus freebie for when I got Lyme. I also got Babesia and who knows what else….

Well, I’ve come to the end of this post and I still have energy! I thought this activity would take up at least a spoon! Ok, onwards… let’s get some $#!% done!

What did I miss?

It has occurred to me that I haven’t been sharing the layouts I make monthly for Simple Scrapper. Shame on me! Simple Scrapper is such a great resource for memory keepers. Definitely worth checking out if you haven’t already.

Wow, ok, so I’ve failed to share A LOT. Here is what I missed!

In no particular order…

Now I must go nap! Peace out!

The night is still aglow with light

This morning I awoke to the rush of my husband’s footsteps as he dashed to the basement to see why we had no water pressure. He got as far as the light switch when he realized the issue was a lack of power. The ice storm caused a power outage in the neighbourhood. He escaped to work and the kids and I took the opportunity to sleep in. The power came back on mid-morning. Yay, power! Out here where we live, that means flushing toilets! It also meant coffee!

I also awoke with a migraine. Tonight I felt really horrible. Nothing would make the hammering pain in my head go away. My ice pack had thawed twice. The tylenol I didn’t want to take did nothing. My other medicines were making me nauseated. I had no energy to do anything and trying to sleep just felt painful.

I was lying there for hours and then I decided I’d make some tea. Once downstairs I thought I’d enjoy the lights of the Christmas tree. It’s still up because I haven’t had the energy to take it down. I had just enough energy today to make the kids lunch and a Swirlio (ice cream out of nothing but frozen fruit). So, now I’m on the couch enjoying my tree even though the festivities are winding down. I was too lazy to wait for the tea to boil so I’m having a V8 instead. A small cheat in my diet as I’m not supposed to have tomatoes (nightshades). I took my chlorella pills and I’m hopeful that sleep might come to me soon. For the first time today, my headache is aching less.

Today I had hoped to get a few chores done and to play a couple games with the kids. They got a cool Lego toy I wanted to build with both of them. Luckily, they were in a good mood and played together nicely without me. I spent most of the day in bed while they chatted with me before disappearing to play another game with rules that only they understood. I was supposed to go out for dinner with a friend but the weather worsened (I didn’t think it could!) and it was better that way because I would not have been good company!

While I was lying in bed I was thinking about my “to-do” lists. My council work, my design work, my house work, and my personal work. At this moment I don’t know how I’ll get back to my council work. I can’t even wrap my head around the things I need to tackle. Right now reading  a recipe feels like learning a new language. Simple emails feel complex. My design work I’ll worry about next week. My house work, oh dear, my housework. That is a never-ending story. My personal work… I’m itching to get started on One Little Word, to paint something, or to digitally scrapbook a page (I’m not up to making a paper one). I can’t decide what word to choose to work on for 2017. I thought about “heal” but am also considering “rest” or “pause”. I just don’t know. Too hard to think about.

Oh, and I really really really want to take a bus to the Women’s March on Washington in a few weeks. A group from Ottawa is traveling down to the march and  coming right back afterward. Since I find making lunch to be a completely energy depleting task, I’ve decided I’m probably not up for the trip. I hope the March is a success. There is so much that needs to be done.

I think I’ll try that sleeping thing again. Nighters!

 

So, that’s what happened.

In the Spring of 2013, I decided to plant a Japanese garden in my back yard. The mosquitoes were bad that spring. I remember having several large bites and even asking a pharmacist if they were bull eye rashes or just large mosquito bites. I was told I just have a mosquito allergy and to use Benadryl. I also had a sore and hot red mark that I thought was a spider bite. First it was just a red bite mark. Then it was hot and had a little black speck in it. Then the black speck got bigger. Finally, I scratched it enough to pull out a little teeny weeny spider. No, I did not. It was a tick but I didn’t know that then.

That summer I thought I had a “summer flu” that never quite went away. By the end of the summer, I was exhausted. Just an average day of activity left me lying on the bed by the time the kids were ready for their evening bath, I’d have chills and flu ache. I’d wake up drenched in sweat. My nightgown would be soaked. The next day I’d be even more exhausted.

One day at the end of summer I went to Niagara Falls for a couple days. I was feeling very tired and anxious. I’ve had anxiety for a number of years so I just assumed it was the drive that scared me. I get anxious in cars since I was in an accident a decade ago. At dinner with my friend and her visiting family, I began to have a panic attack. I’d never had one before and it was truly terrifying. It does feel like you’re dying. My heart was racing, time slowed down and I did everything I could to stay calm and focus on my breathing. I had no idea what was happening. I tried to act normal (my version of normal) as though everything was okay. I was confused because I was enjoying my dinner. There was nothing overly stressful about the occasion. I thought maybe it was due to my low iron. I was also beginning to experience shortness of breath, chest pains, and heart palpitations. I wondered if maybe it was all part of the anemia. I’d even read that anxiety can result from anemia. So I kept popping my daily iron pill.

The fatigue, chest and heart issues, and malaise continued. I had an annual Physical in the fall. I tried to tell the doctor about my various issues but got cut off. She told me I was only allotted 20 minutes and that included the examination. I said “but I’m only sharing everything because I thought maybe you’d see a pattern in all the symptoms.” She said “ok, tell me one more and then we’ll move on”. Um, ok.

I was feeling so guilty. It was my last year with my kids at home. My daughter was in half day kindergarten and I had all morning alone with my son. I wanted this time to bond with my son. I thought we’d make crafts and play games. I’d make his alone time with me special. Honestly, I think most of those mornings, I napped while he watched TVO cartoons. He didn’t mind because he got to watch his choice of show without his sister arguing with him. He’d try to learn from the shows as they were educational and he’d ask me all sorts of questions and I’d try to hold a conversation with him in my half-asleep stupor. We did occasionally paint, make crafts, scrapbook (his favourite) and play games but not nearly as much as both of us would have liked.

My little guy during my first year struggling with the onset of Lyme disease.

At the same time I was becoming more focused on the increasing pain in my left knee. I could barely walk on it. The leg would give out. I wondered if I’d twisted something. It wasn’t until I felt a lump on the underside of my knee, that I went to see the doctor. She couldn’t see what would be wrong but agreed I should get an ultrasound. The lump was a lipoma and after seeing a specialist months later, I was told it did not need treatment and it wasn’t likely the cause of my knee pain.

Despite all these issues, I did manage to have a lovely vacation at Disney World with my family. It was exhausting and wonderful, all mixed together!

Somewhere in that winter, I also went to the doctor about the possibility of fibromyalgia. Or maybe celiac disease. Or whatever might be the cause of my issues. Fibromyalgia was dismissed as I didn’t have all the “tender spots”. The doctor didn’t want to test for Celiac. I can’t remember why. Later that year, she did put me on a Gluten-free diet when I said I was still having the same issues.

I also visited the eye doctor about the sudden onset of migraines. I’d get multiple auras in a day over the period of a few days, every few months. I felt a lot of glare all the time, and found night driving difficult. Everything seemed too bright.

I had career ambitions and was working on various plans (teaching online classes, designing, and illustrating). Again, I felt such guilt. I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I couldn’t focus on writing proposals. It was a miracle I was able to accomplish the things I did finish. I felt like I was ruining my reputation with some colleagues I deeply respected. I’d been dependable up until now. Why couldn’t I get my act together?

The chest pains, breathlessness and feeling of vertigo and dizziness worsened. In the Spring of 2014, I went to see my doctor and he told me I’d tried very hard to manage my anxiety without drugs (counselling, meditation classes, etc.) but I really needed to take medicine to help me get to a place where I could cope. Then when I was less anxious I could wean off the drugs.  If the drugs didn’t help the anxiety, we’d know it was something else. I agreed. I had a variety of side effects but I knew that was common so I wasn’t too concerned. I’d been warned I’d get very tired and have hot flashes. No problem, I could handle it and I did. For the next two years, I accepted that my quality of life was diminished due to my fatigue. I accepted it because the drug had helped with the anxiety and the chest and heart symptoms were almost completely gone. I figured the issues must have been anxiety all along.

My kids were both in school full time the Fall of 2014. It was my first time with the house to myself in 6 1/2 years! I was sad and excited… bittersweet. I was sad that this phase of our life was over, but I was excited to be able to focus on my art, and to have a moment to myself. I had so many projects I wanted to finally take on and complete.

Instead, I slept. I couldn’t help myself. I’d try to pick something to do and I’d dive right in, get exhausted, take a “quick” nap, and find myself waking up just in time to get the kids off the bus. I was designing digital art during this time and writing blog posts. I wasn’t completely inactive but I wasn’t doing nearly as much as I had hoped. Every deadline was a struggle as I fought to keep my eyes open and see through the brain fog to brainstorm new designs.

In the Fall of 2015, I decided to become more active at the kids’ school. I became co-chair of the School Council (PTA). Some days I did my design work. Some days I did my council work. Often, I napped. I’d forgotten what life was like when I had energy. I assumed it was the anxiety medication. I assumed it was turning 40. I assumed it was sleep deprivation from having kids. Too many assumptions.

In the Spring of 2016, I felt I couldn’t do my design work anymore. I had tried to work on my proposals for other work projects. I decided to hold onto one small job I do every month. I wanted to be “present” for my kids in the summer and I couldn’t be juggling work and parenting.

It was then that my Mom mentioned reading Ally Hilfiger’s book “Bite Me“. She said Ally’s struggle reminded her of me. So I got it out of the library and read it too. All the pieces of the past three years fell into place. OMG, do I have lyme disease? Suddenly, it was all I could think about. I read the Horowitz Lyme-MSIDS questionnaire by a leading Lyme Literate Medical Doctor (LLMD) Dr. Richard Horowitz.

All the issues I’d seen the Doctor for in the last three years were on this list. As well as several things for which I never sought help. I had the classic onset of symptoms. Except I never knew if I had a bullseye rash or a tick bite. WAIT A MINUTE… in a flash I recalled that spider bite and the horrible mosquito bites. At the time, I knew about bullseye rashes made by ticks. I didn’t know that ticks burrowed into your skin. I didn’t even know what a tick looked like. Suddenly, it was very clear. I didn’t know if I was bitten in my backyard or at the lake where we sometimes visit. It didn’t really matter.

I went to see my doctor and told him my fears that I might have Lyme disease. I handed him the completed Horowitz questionnaire. He asked me why I would think I had Lyme disease and I explained a short version of what I have written here so far. I also mentioned the neck pain I’d seen him for, the ringing in my ears for months on end that he also treated me for, or the lump in my breast and colostrum that had no business appearing. I told him how I had trouble finishing thoughts, fumbled with words, couldn’t concentrate on books or TV, smelled cigarette smoke when there wasn’t possibly any around, dropped things all the time because I could no longer fully grasp items, couldn’t tolerate loud noises or bright lights, and how my whole body ached. He diagnosed me with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and advised me to get tested for Lyme Disease and Co-infections (Babesia, Bartonella, etc.) with IgeneX.

By the end of October, I revisited the Doctor with my results in hand. He diagnosed me with Lyme Disease. He gave me the name of a LLMD in New York State. She was expensive and taking trips there would be costly for us. I did a little research of my own and found out a reputable Lyme Literate Naturopathic Doctor works in Ottawa. I immediately booked an appointment.

The first week of December, I had my appointment with the LLND. I was so eager to finally get treatment. She was better than I had hoped for! She assessed me and prescribed supplements and asked for me to have a Doctor prescribe certain antibiotics. She uses a variety of methods to diagnose illnesses. With my health background forms, the questionnaires she’d asked me to fill out in advance of the appointment, the test results I’d given her, a physical examination, and auricular assessment, she was able to diagnose me with Multiple Systemic Infectious Disease Syndrome (MSIDS). So basically, I have Lyme, Babesia (similar to malaria), Bartonella, and a bunch of other issues suppressing my immune system leaving me sick and vulnerable. Each with its own long list of symptoms. Some of the issues can be resolved but the Lyme can only be treated into remission. It will be a long process.

One of the problems with Lyme Disease treatment is that you get worse before you get better. When the bacteria is being killed off, toxins are released into the body causing a Jarisch-Herxheimer Reaction. A “Herx” happens when your body can’t rid itself of the toxins as quickly as the bacteria is being killed off. To counteract the risk of a reaction, my LLND gave me a schedule to add new drugs and supplements slowly. I am now on everything and for the past two days, I’ve had constantly tingling hands (think pins and needles type stuff), hot flashes and sweat, sudden chills, dizziness, and physical fatigue.

My supper time meds

I drink lemon water and take epsom salt baths to aid my body’s detoxing. I’m taking supplements that also help with the detoxification process. I’m struggling to take all the pills at the right time. I use an iPhone app to help me and it reminds me to take pills at 12 different times in the day!

Mittens, the ever loving kitten keeps me company in bed, on the couch, or at the edge of the bath.

In addition to the pills, the LLND prescribed a new diet for me. It’s horrible! The only upside is that I’ll lose the weight I’ve gained since all of this started. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what I can and can’t eat. It’s confusing because I was given some specifics about the diet and then also told to follow the Wahl’s Protocol Diet. So, my understanding at the moment is that I need to be sugar-free, gluten-free, and mostly dairy-free. I can’t eat potatoes. I think I can’t eat tomatoes but I’m not completely sure. I’m pretty upset about the potatoes. I can’t have vinegar, except for cider vinegar. I can eat sweet potatoes! I can eat avocados. I can eat two pieces of fruit a day.

The worst part (aside from the sugar and potatoes limitation) is that I’m supposed to add meat to my diet. I’ve been vegetarian for 21+ years! Wow, wow, wow. So last week, I dragged myself to the butcher that gets their meat from local farms that are organic, pesticide-free and run like farms rather than factories. That’s the only way I can make peace with this change. I want to know those animals had at least a semblance of happiness before they were slaughtered. I’m not thrilled but I’m prioritizing my health as more valuable than the life of the chicken. I’m not sure that’s fair or right, but that’s what I’ve chosen to do.

My first meal of chicken in over 21 years! Thank you nameless chicken for giving me your life. I’m sorry it has to be this way.

I’m still having my morning coffee, sweetened with stevia (on my ok list!), with a splash of cream (pretty sure that’s a no-no). I fully intend to cheat on Christmas Eve and possibly Christmas. Hopefully, I don’t regret it!

So, that takes me to now. My husband is very supportive and loving. My children are struggling to understand and accept that their Mommy is sick. It pains me to see my daughter’s anxiety over this. We’ll figure this out. We will.

I’ve made peace that I’m not crafting my way through Christmas like I usually try to do. No December Daily, no fancy photos, no Christmas crafts, and no sweet treats. I cut back on the decorations. I didn’t write Christmas cards. I just can’t do all those things right now and that is okay. Right now, the priority is to get better and spend time with my family. My biggest goal for the holidays is to play board games with the kids. Time together is all that really matters. And sleep. That matters too!

Photo techniques I won’t be trying this Christmas!

Thank you for reading my story. I’m sure if you were to read back over my blog posts the last few years, there would be moments where it was obvious something was wrong. Hopefully my future blog posts will guide us to a place where something is going very right! I’m going to try to write more about what I’m experiencing. My design work for the most part is on hold. This blog won’t have lots of scrapbooking, designing, or art projects for the next while. Follow me along for my journey and hopefully the art will return sooner than later!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! May you have moments of great peace and joy in the coming year!

Don of a New Age

Spoiler Alert! Spoiler Alert! If you haven’t seen the final episode of Mad Men and you think you might want to at some point, then please DO NOT read this post. 

The series finale of Mad Man aired a year ago in May 2015. Yet in the world of Netflix and series binge watching, it’s never too prudent to post a “spoiler alert” advisory. I wasn’t able to watch the final season until a month ago. For a year I tried very hard to close my eyes and ears to anything to do with the show. I can’t tell you how excited I was when I was able to watch season seven on Netflix!

I had moments of trepidation as I sat down with my bowl of popcorn and icy cold Coca-Cola and hit the play button on my Apple TV remote. What would become of the characters? Would Don survive? Who were the heroes and victims? Would I be disappointed, angry, or delighted with the outcome?

After I watched the credits roll signifying the end of a brilliant TV drama, I honestly did not know how I felt. I was happy with how most of the characters continued on with their lives. It was the way they left off with Don’s life that left me wondering what happened next. This would not do! I began to google people’s reactions to the writers’ decisions to leave Don sitting in the lotus position, meditating on a California mountaintop. We never found out if he returned to New York to create the World’s most famous Coca-Cola Ad or whether he started a new life as his old self, Dick Whitman. I didn’t glean a whole lot of additional insight.

For a few weeks, the show would wander back into my thoughts. I’d vacillate between endings. Yes, he did return to New York! No, no, no, he found enlightenment and stayed in California. Back and forth, back and forth I went, wondering.

Then tonight, I was cleaning my bathroom sink and I came upon a new answer that gives me a sense of peace and closure. I’m good with this one.

So, this is Don’s story:

He is born as Dick Whitman and struggles a difficult childhood during the Great Depression.

He goes off to war and returns home as Don Draper, an identity he stole from the Lieutenant whom he accidentally killed.

He moves to New York where he builds a successful life selling stories on Madison Avenue. He has a model perfect nuclear family and a large suburban home. Yet he is haunted by his old life and is unfulfilled by his new life. Alcohol, affairs, and money do not soothe his soul.

The life he has built crumbles piece by piece. His belongings have been stolen. His home is sold. His divorce is final.

One day he achieves his biggest career goal and walks out the door.

He leaves New York to take an “On the Road” inspired drive.  I’m sure it is no coincidence Don Draper has always reminded me of Jack Kerouac (dark, handsome, hedonistic, haunted, lost, and grieving).

As he travels, he sheds off the layers of Don Draper: He gives away his car; He finds out his ex-wife is dying and his kids will get custody with her brother; He confesses his stolen identity to veterans. He returns to California where he had initially embraced his life as Don Draper only to find himself at a retreat with the niece of the real Don Draper. She gives him a final and harsh reality check by reminding him that he is Dick Whitman, not Don Draper. The last wisp of his Don Draper ego vanishes as he acknowledges his greatest transgressions. He attends a therapy session where he recognizes himself in a broken man who feels invisible. He embraces him.

The egoless man, formerly known as Don and previously as Dick meditates and finally achieves the serenity and harmony he has yearned for his entire life.

The show ends with the famous “I’d Like to Buy The World A Coke” Ad and we’re left to wonder whether Don Draper returns to New York to create the commercial or whether he stays on that mountaintop smiling indefinitely. Or something like that.

I chose to believe he does return to New York with the words of the meditation guru chanting in his head “A new day, new ideas, and a new you”. He pitches the greatest ad of the 20th century as a man who is no longer a caged Dick Whitman hidden in the Don Draper identity. A name is just a name and he has nothing to hide or prove. Ghosts no longer haunt him.

Having attained his freedom, his need to hustle is gone. He doesn’t have to sell us on Coca-cola. He wants to buy it for us instead. So, put your feet up, relax, and enjoy a Coke. Courtesy of Don.

 

 

 

The lowdown

Weird that “lowdown” as a noun means “true facts” and as an adjective it means “rotten and unfair”. I’m pretty sure there is some irony in there but I’m not about to dig into that one right now.

I’ve been at a standstill for the past year as I avoided my blog. I just wondered what the point was in sharing my thoughts and personal life. I mean, really, does the world need one more voice out there on the internet? I’m not profound like Brené Brown or Elizabeth Gilbert. I’m not George Takei, making you laugh as I throw a dose of heartfelt wisdom at you. Like most people, I fear the haters and I fear my own negative voice telling me I have no right to share anything.

So, poop on that, I’m going to start blogging again. And I’m going to start sentences with “poop on that”.

Life is too short to live someone else’s idea of how life should be lived. Ponder that tongue twister.

Right now I need to finish up a kit I’m designing for Pixels and Company, the digital scrapbook shop where I sell my digital designs. I mean, I REALLY should be on photoshop, not WordPress. REALLY. Sometimes, I think it is better to empty your mind in order to refill it with inspiration. I’m writing in hopes that I will share some of my thoughts to make space for new ideas. There, I’ve totally just rationalized my behaviour.

One of the things I’ve been thinking about lately is how, ultimately, I make the rules. I’m one of those people who likes order when it comes to safety and well-being. I get infuriated when people dirt bike or skidoo through our park, or when drivers pull crazy stunts and endanger lives. My heart breaks when people are cruel to others. I’ve always wondered how they could want to break the rules and not lose any sleep over it. Maybe it’s just not that important to them. Then I wonder how they keep getting away with it. How is it that so many rapists, murderers, racists, and really rich developers with a hankering for politics manage to keep getting away with their behaviour? Why isn’t the “boss” (police, government, authority) stopping them? Why are rules seen by so many as merely suggestions? Why am I driving myself crazy trying to do everything the way the rules have been written?

So, I’m going to be a little more selective about the rules I follow. Just the ones that aren’t important to me: being apologetic for not living up to standards set by everyone but me.

Like hiding my depression and anxiety. Actually I’m pretty upfront about the anxiety. It’s the depression I feel shameful about. You would think that after 20+ years of suffering from mild-moderate depressive episodes and earning a BA in Psychology, I’d have the good sense to accept my depression for what it is. An illness. You’d think that. No. Despite all the books, articles, memes, and conversations I’ve read and heard, I still feel any depression I suffer from is all my own doing. My fault. My weakness. My failure.

I can be flippant and light hearted about it on a blog but really, this is a deep wound that I need to heal. I don’t talk about it enough because there are real risks associated with sharing experiences of mental illness. Sure, commercials and memes all encourage us to share our stories but really, there is a risk of losing everything: insurance, reputation, promotions, love… and who knows what else. So, let’s say I share that I have depression. The people who have suffered nod in silent understanding. The people who don’t understand do what? Some are probably sympathetic. Some are probably rolling their eyes? Some are judging. “Maybe if you weren’t so lazy”, “maybe if you didn’t sleep so much”, “maybe if you changed your diet”, “maybe if you weren’t such a loser”. Maybe if I just wasn’t me.

The risk of denying my depression is that the depression deepens and I continue to believe the illness is actually my own inherent flaws. I’m lazy. I sleep too much. I’m pathetic. I’m a loser. I can’t do anything right. I’m a waste of time and space. I’m unloveable.

I am angry at myself for falling into this trap of thinking. I wonder why I’m depressed. I know I have a genetic disposition. I’m not supposed to talk about it but there is a line of my family tree where people have suffered and some have ended their own misery. I’ve asked for details but I can’t get much of the story. Perhaps it is feared I will succumb to my genes? This angers me. I think knowing who and where I come from and knowing what my ancestors have suffered (no fault of their own), I might actually be able to overcome it if I can understand it. It would also lessen my guilt of wrongly believing my depression is all my fault. (Why can’t I convince myself of that without needing the validation?) As Brené Brown says, I want to “own my history”. I can’t control the genetic conditions I pass on to my kids but I can hopefully give them the knowledge and tools they need to live their lives as fully as possible. Not to mention I want to to model good behaviour for them and I’m pretty sure they can see through the veneer of my attempts to cover up my self-loathing.

So, I’m breaking this rule. I’m depressed. I come from a long line of people who have struggled with it. It’s not going away by denying it or by blaming myself for it. I’m talking about it. Deal with it.

IT’S NOT MY FAULT! (No, REALLY, it ISN’T!!!) Stop the blame!

See you soon for posts about quilting, cute unicorn pens, and my newest Tupperware pickle container acquisition.

 

I’m a Quilter, how splendid!

It seems like quite the exaggeration to call myself a quilter. However, I did piece fabric together with thread. So, I guess that is what I am. As Lilla Rogers likes to say, “All great artists start at the beginning”. So here I am, the beginner quilter.

I’ve wanted to quilt for years. The thought of actually doing it intimidated me. A couple months ago I downloaded the Periscope App and it imported my social media contacts. One day the app chirped at me to say one of my contacts was “scoping” live. It was Alyssa Thomas of Penguin & Fish. I knew she was the artist and author who makes whimsically adorable embroidery patterns and fabric. I was curious so I tuned in. She crafts nightly at 9:30CST. She’s so friendly and down-to-earth. I’m learning so much just by watching her.

I remember my grandma once tried to teach me to crochet. Her fingers moved so quickly I couldn’t follow along. She didn’t know how to slow down enough for me to learn. So, I never did learn to crochet. My Mom taught me to knit and sew. I was never overly adept at either but I did make a few things. I also taught myself embroidery but it wasn’t exactly full of proper technique. I did do a pretty awesome Kurt Cobain on a friend’s pair of jeans. I wish I’d taken a photo of that. Back then the only way to learn was to get a book from the library or find a relative who could teach you.

Fast forward to 2016, and the resources are amazing!

1. I’m watching Alyssa on Periscope which is like having that relative show me how to do things properly. I can’t explain how invaluable that is. Otherwise I’d stand at my craft table totally bewildered wondering where to start.

2. There are free challenges and patterns out there to try. Alyssa mentioned that she was part of the “Splendid Sampler” Quilt-Along. 100 mystery block patterns will be revealed twice a week for participants to quilt. The blocks are designed by a long list of artists. After the year is done the blocks will only be available in a printed book. Different techniques will be required throughout the quilt-along.

3. The groups of crafters are plentiful. Someone somewhere has encountered whatever quilting challenge you are facing and is willing to share their solution.

I have to wonder what my crafting skills would have been like as a teenager if I had access to today’s technology.

So, here is what I’ve made so far.

The block with the little Kimono clad girls is the “bonus” block handed out last week. It is my VERY first block EVER!!! It’s crooked and the points don’t match up BUT I did it and I’m proud!

The block with the heart is the first mystery block. 1 out of 100. I’m happy with it. I even needle turn appliqued the heart. Yahoo!

I’m not really going for perfect here. I want a colourful and quirky quilt that makes me happy. I do not have a big stash of fabric. Several years ago I bought some lovely fabrics off of superbuzzy, thinking I’d sew my baby some clothes. HAHAHA… what was I thinking? That didn’t really happen and now my nearly 8 year old likes to dress herself. So, my quilt will use up the few fabrics I have, plus snippets from baby clothes, and some fabrics I will purchase soon.

Today there is a new block so I must be off to check it out! Until next time….

 

Remembrance Day Poppy: Wall Art & Journal Cards

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, I will observe two minutes of silence as I reflect on the sacrifices others have made so that I may have peace. It is an opportunity to practice gratitude and to remember just how lucky I am to live such a comfortable life.

I made a little poppy today and thought it would make a lovely 8×10 wall art. I turned it into 3×4 and 4×6 journal cards as well. You can download the freebie by clicking on the photo.

I hope you’ll take a moment tomorrow to recognize the veterans in your community!

Click on the image to go to my shop where you can download it for free.

Oh. My. Word! It’s nearly Halloween! Here’s a treat!

Boo! Did you think you saw a ghost? Or a shadow of my former self? I am alive. My blog is rather dusty. Summer happened and then the leaves fell off the trees, and now I’m here.

This past week, I started Lilla Roger’s “Make Art That Sells: Part B” e-course. So for five weeks, my head will be in a creative fog, whirlwind, cloud? I don’t know. Something where rainbows and unicorns swirl around my head while I bump into walls and unintentionally ignore people who are trying to talk to me. So, no offence in advance, peeps.

As for Halloween, I put a kit in my Pixels & Company shop and it will be on for half price until, uh, Halloween.

 

To download the freebie, click on the photo and follow the link to my shop. Add the item to your cart and you will be able to download it instantly.

Have a fabulous Friday and an even better weekend!

The most important thing we do in a day is take care of each other.

While I was busy galavanting, eating, and entertaining, life outside the home apparently went on without me. Who knew?

I’ve had a busy few weeks. I had the pleasure of babysitting a sweet little baby for a week (well, a few days really). I got an awesome thank you gift for helping out. The mom knows I’m a big fan of Barbapapa and she spoiled me with a vintage book and a flowery mug, and some party streamers from Amsterdam. See those little Barbapapa faces in the flowers on the mug? Oh, Happy day!

Then my best friend from high school came for a visit. We had some really good eats and had a long overdue chance to just hang out and catch up on our lives. We also watched “Reality Bites” which was our favourite movie to watch together 20 years ago. I can’t believe how quickly time passes. I was surprised to see I still like the movie and my opinion of the characters hasn’t changed much. I had to laugh about us though. Back in the mid-90s we watched the movie in the basement of my childhood home. Or maybe in her home. We drank Coke and ate Little Caesars Pizza or a bag of chips. Now we’re both Moms of young kids sitting in my home commenting on how delicious the fancy cheese and baguettes taste. Subtle changes! Ha!

Our first night finished with a lovely sunset in downtown Ottawa.

We had a really yummy lunch at Burrito Burracho in the Byward Market. I highly recommend the Tortilla soup. Then we wandered a bit before treating ourselves to a Maple Beavertail before heading home. YUM YUM!

It was just so good to see her! I was sad to see her go. She gave me a very pretty bracelet from Alex and Ani as a hostess gift. It has a little pineapple charm. Pineapples are a symbol of friendship and hospitality. How perfect is that? Plus, I love pineapples.

The day after my friend left, my family and I went camping with friends at a very kids friendly KOA campground. Despite the initial rain and the plummeting temperature at night, we had a great time. Only a few weeks until our next camping trip!

Upon return from camping, we had a visit from my husband’s Aunt. She is awesome. That’s all that needs to be said about that.

Then I spent the next day preparing for my very first Thirty-One gifts experience. I set up a table at the kids’ school’s Fun Night. I’m selling Thirty-One products to fundraise for the school’s Kindergarten playground project. There seemed to be a lot of interest in the products but the best part was getting to talk to other parents. Normally at events I’m busy with the kids and I have no particular reason to start up conversations with strangers. This was a great way for me to be more social.

Then the next day my parents came to town for my daughter’s Highland dance recital. It was a really good show! I also enjoyed shopping for plants with my mom and my daughter. I had trouble limiting myself to a few carefully chosen perennials. My mom bought a few plants for me  too as a very early birthday gift. Yay!

On the weekend, I had various things to do but managed to work on something that has been brewing in my head for awhile. I greatly admire the Junior Kindergarten teacher that taught my daughter two years ago and is finishing up teaching my son this year. She’s just a lovely person with a very gentle heart. She is exactly the type of person I hoped would teach my kids. She inspires the kids with exploring nature, science, and art. She encourages them to think critically. Most of all, I love that she teaches compassion. As a thank you I wanted to create a painting for her. I chose to illustrate her class motto which I think should be everyone’s motto.

The most important thing we do in a day is take care of each other.

I was thrilled the painting came together so quickly. I’m often disappointed and frustrated with painting. Things don’t always turn out the way I envision them. This one just made me very happy from start to finish. Maybe because I like the motto so much? So, today I took it to the school at midday and surprised her with it. I think it is fair to say, she likes it. Which makes me very happy! Although, I am sad that I won’t have a reason to talk with the teacher anymore.

I came home and sat down to write this post and remembered today is the day my newest designs are released for sale at Pixels and Company. I can’t believe I forgot! I’ve been so busy! I’ll show them to you now. Tomorrow I will sit down at my computer and get started on all the design ideas that have been gathering in my head the past few weeks.

Have a relaxing Monday evening!

In Good Company! My return to Digiland!

I am so pleased to announce that I’ve just set up shop at Pixels & Company as a designer. I’ll be designing alongside of Celeste Knight, Deena Rutter, Gennifer Bursett, Jen Allyson, Meredith Cardall, Robin Meierotto, and Shirley Polk. That is a pretty talented and inspiring roster of artists.

My new products will be released twice a month. This week I released a full kit (So True), a journal card pack (So True) and an element pack (Cork Flairs: Happy). They are currently at least 30% off!

Here are a couple layouts from some P&Co Creative Team talent:

by Maribel Rivas

by Kate Christensen

Artist in Training

The world has done a disservice to artists by assuming their talent is simply innate rather than a skill that is learned and practiced. Hands do not just hold brushes and make beautiful things appear on paper… just like that. Most people wouldn’t assume the same for scientists and mathematicians. While we might acknowledge a brilliant doctor has an innate talent, we also recognize the years of study and training needed to succeed.

It is tricky being an artist because it is unclear when we can call ourselves one. Do I profess to be an artist when I first sell a piece of art? When I have a show in a gallery? When I study it in university? When I love art class and draw in my spare time? While some people have confidence to boldly declare themselves an artist, others feel like frauds. It doesn’t appear to be related to ability. Whereas, in most other occupations, one knows when they can claim their occupational status. If one wants to advance or improve, the steps to take are clear. Maybe it is because people see artists in two categories. One kind being like Van Gogh or Michelangelo. The other being hobbyists. You can’t be a hobbyist doctor, can you? Or maybe the difference is that being an artist can be considered a way of life rather than just occupational?

Being an artist is a humbling experience. Your art is your soul exposed on paper. Out there in the open for criticism, good or bad.  You sit down to create and sometimes there is no inspiration. Or things just don’t turn out the way you want. While I think routines and rituals are important for productivity, I think teaching artists about the creative process is vital. I don’t remember an art instructor ever telling me how to overcome “writer’s block” or a “lack of inspiration” other than saying “just keep drawing”. Sometimes I can sit there for hours and I’ll just become more frustrated.

In our jobs, it is expected we will be evenly productive throughout the day and week. In school or the workplace we’re taught to sit there and get the job done and keep on doing more, more, more until the bell rings or our co-workers leave. That is fine for many occupations, but a career requiring creativity does not follow the same path.

Creativity is energy that travels in waves

What I’ve come to realize is that creativity is energy that travels in waves. When I’m done an art piece, I often can’t jump into the next project right away. My store of creative energy has depleted itself. Sitting at my craft table or at my computer is a waste of time. I’m going to end up fretting over my lack of productivity and ever growing list of deadlines. I have learned to react when I see my creativity has waned. It is time to step away from my art supplies. It is time to rest my brain and engage my body in an activity. The activity doesn’t have to be rigorous. It just has to be something where the brain isn’t being asked to participate in any big way. I get lots of ideas when I’m trying to fall asleep but that isn’t very useful because I’m asleep before I can harness the creative thoughts. I used to get great inspiration when I was nursing my babies. My mind would wander and come up with all sorts of future to-do lists. Now that those babies are in school, I can tackle projects on a whim. Sometimes it is something annoying and dreaded like cleaning toilets and wiping down baseboards. Blah! Other times it might be gardening or yard work.

This morning I sat down to do my work and was immediately frustrated by my lack of focus and motivation. So I put on my rubber boots, stepped outside, grabbed my shovel, and started digging. An hour later I had accomplished a chore but more importantly, I had ideas overflowing for numerous projects. No one taught me to do this. I always thought this type of jumping to unrelated tasks made me flightly or lazy about my work. No! It is the creative process.

See you tomorrow!

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and stones may break your bones but they’re so darn beautiful… and heavy. I just spent the past hour outside at the side of my house digging up rocks to build a retaining wall. I keep finding huge slabs of rock just beneath the earth. I’m torn between adding them to my retaining wall or placing them in my Japanese garden. They seem too aesthetically perfect to place in a wall that won’t really be seen by many. Yet they’re the right size and shape for the wall. Sigh, what to do, what to do?

I am building a retaining wall so I can level the land next to our house. I want to put in a sidewalk so we can actually get to our backyard without tripping. Just a crazy, zany idea I had. Our budget doesn’t allow for backhoes, rock deliveries, or installations so I’m being resourceful. I’m in no way qualified so this shall be an interesting experiment. I’m hoping my wall will actually retain its shape and hold everything in place. We’ll see. As I told my husband, “you can’t complain, it’s free”.

Grass won’t really grow in this area so I’m hoping to find a good shade growing ground cover for this area. On my retaining wall I’m going to stuff moss and plants into the crevices of the rocks. I’m hoping that might beautify the space. Uh, maybe.

I’m also extending my vegetable garden to the back fence. It’s a process as our land really is dirt and lots and lots of rocks. A shovel almost always hits rock. Clearing the rocks in my original garden took forever. I call the process my “gym membership”. I line the garden with rocks as I unearth them.

As well, I’m extending my Japanese garden around a tree to make mowing easier. I’m hoping of installing a DIY suikinkutsu, which is a musical Japanese water instrument garden feature. Woah, I’m not sure of how to place the adjectives in that sentence! There’s a pot hidden in the ground with a tiny hole at the top surrounded by stones. You ladle water over the stones and the water makes a lovely sound as it drops to the ground. I was enchanted by one in Ozu, Japan way back in 1999. I just have to figure out how I’m going to put out water for ladling. I don’t want to install a fountain and I don’t want sitting water attracting mosquitoes. We’ll see.

I swear my garden will look better than this soon. This is just the beginning.

So I have a lot on the go considering I’m not a very knowledgeable gardener or handyman. Ha! My DIA (Doing It Anyway) attitude is genetic. My Grandma used to attempt to actualize all the creative ideas in her head. She passed it on to me. My Mom is the same way. I’m not giving up on my ideas even if they look a little rough at first.

In my next post, I’ll explain why I was out in my garden when I have so many tasks on my to-do list.

Cute Little Things Make Me Happy

I’m not talking about my kids although they are cute little things AND they make me happy.

Last week I went out for dinner with my neighbour friend. Every couple of months we like to frequent a vegetarian restaurant in town. It makes for a very pleasant evening.

This time was no exception. Plus, during our conversation she showed me these cute little figurines. They were adorable and I gushed over them. She had gotten them for me! Yay, that made me happy. They reminded her of “It’s a Small World” which made her think of me. She knew I’d love them and I certainly do! Now I need to find a worthy place to put them. I’m thinking next to my craft table.

The figurines are actually rubber stamps. Each has a green fairy doing something different. It will be hard to keep my kids from running off with these.

Are they not adorable?

Today’s Reading List

I love the library. I especially love their online ordering system for placing holds. I have a few tricks up my sleeve that make it even more enjoyable. When the kids come home with scholastic order forms I put several of the books on hold. On occasion I do buy the kids books from the order forms but mostly I’m quite happy to borrow from the library instead. When I’m at a bookstore and see an amazing book I check the library app first. Same goes for seeing books on Amazon, suggested reading on blogs, and lists on Goodreads. The library is awesome.

Our local library used to be a hole in the wall. That is only a slight exaggeration. It was really quite unpleasant. Then the city or province (I can’t remember which) got funding to build new libraries. Within a year we had a brand spanking new library attached to our local community centre. It is a warm, inviting and aesthetically pleasing place. I love going there. I wait there while my kids are in activities at the community centre.

I also discovered our library has a subscription to Ancestry.com. As long as you are physically in the library you can access the website. I’m thinking I might spend more time at the library so I can do a little family research.

Here are a few books I brought home this week. I need to make myself a coffee, grab a warm blanket, and sit in the corner to read.

1. Fairy Houses… Unbelievable! by Barry Kane – I’m planning on making a fairy village in our front garden this summer with the kids. Mostly to keep the kids occupied and entertained. Thought this book might give us some good ideas.
2. Lore & Legends of Long Point  by Harry B. Barrett – My ancestors settled the Long Point area of Ontario. I thought I’d better read up on it.
3. The Healing Intelligence of Essential Oils by Kurt Schnaubelt – I love essential oils. I have been surprised by the sudden popularity of them. I see pinterest pins touting all sorts of miraculous uses for them. While I love oils and believe they have healing properties I am skeptical and alarmed by the claims. I thought I’d read up and educate myself. If time and money were no issue I’d love to take a course. In the meantime, this book will be a good start.
4. Art Before Breakfast by Danny Gregory – Anything to motivate me to fit creativity and drawing into my daily routine is a very good thing indeed. This past year has been about finding a new order to my day. I need to prioritize my art. Let’s see if this book helps.
5. Gardening Lab for Kids by Renata Fossen Brown – This book just looks so cool. Combining gardening, experimentation, and creativity is exactly what kids love. I’m hoping we have a spring and summer full of outdoor play and dirty messes.

Well, that is all for now. I’ve got lots to do today. One child is home with me due to a mild fever, headache, and aches and pains. I’m feeling the same way. I need to catch up on planting seedlings. My house needs caution tape it is so messy. I have actual work to do. I have a cauliflower in the fridge that needs a recipe to go with it. I’d like to try out that new crafting tool I bought. Um, and maybe a nap in the afternoon might be good? See, VERY busy. Ha!

Have a great day! Tootles!

It’s Here! it’s Here!

Oh, happy day, I got the scrapbooking tool of my dreams! It showed up at my door pretending to be a cardboard box.  I opened up that box and there it was in its plastic covered glory. I bought myself a We R Memory Keepers Photo Sleeve Fuse which have just become available in stores. I am pretty busy these days but I kind of want to clear my schedule and play for a day.

So, what does this handy tool do, you ask? It is a burn tool that lets you seal off memorabilia and journal cards in page protectors. You can custom make your pockets  in the protectors. If you’re not a scrapbooker, just nod encouragingly, ok? If you ARE a scrapbooker (particularly of the pocket page/project life variety) you’ll understand WHY this is such a big deal.

I am looking to using this project because:

• I won’t have to stress over how my portrait or landscape photos are going to fit  on the same page. As in, it used to be impossible.
• I can use odd sized papers.
• I can totally seal off sections. A locket of my daughter’s first curl. Sequins.
• SEQUINS. Yes, I plan to fill pockets with pretty sequins and things that appear suspended in mid-air. It will be lovely.
• I can seal off a bit of the top or side of open pockets where the paper or photo is always slipping out.

Freakin’ genius technology that is going to make this girl smile from ear to ear when she finally sits down at that craft table (eyeing it longingly right now).

That’s all for now. I’ll post again soon with a full report on the awesomeness of this tool.

Nighters!

Time Travel and an active Imagination

It is Friday! Friday! I’m doing my Friday happy dance! I just came home from a lovely evening out with a friend. We ate at a yummy vegetarian restaurant in town. Sometimes I don’t realize just how much I need a night out with good food and good conversation with a friend. I need to do this more often!

I’m so happy this week is winding down. I spent nearly every day the past two weeks at the kids’ school painting some canvas panels. I finished them five minutes before the bell rang on Wednesday. It was such a relief to see them done. I loved the process of drawing and painting. I loved being in the school lobby. It was a really positive experience for me. As all of you know, I have hermit tendencies so it was good to get out out of the house a bit. I have a renewed appreciation for being at home now. It shook me out of a rut and that was really needed. I spent yesterday and today tying up lose ends I hadn’t gotten to the past few weeks. One of those things was creating a couple of layouts for Simple Scrapper.

I made two very different layouts.

1. One is about the albums I loved as an older teenager. Even now when I hear the songs I am instantly transported back in time. I can recall the feelings, the smells, and the intensity of the moment. I wonder if it will still be this way when I am 90. I was inspired by a template that included two doilies. It seemed a bit odd that I might think doilies belong on a layout with Nirvana and RHCP album covers. I grunged them up with some purple mist and black ink. It seemed symbolic to me of a girl coming of age. The layout has bit of a messy look that fits well with how I felt back then.

2. This layout was so fun because it encompasses everything I love about Disney World. The joy I wanted to my children to experience when my husband and I took them on a very special trip in 2013. I wanted the layout to have some Winnie the Pooh elements on it but I didn’t want to detract from the photo or journaling. So I was happy to include a bit of patterned paper and stickers of bees and honey. I could look at the photo of my kids all day!

Did I mention that Simple Scrapper is hosting  a free photo organization class? Sign up here.

Next week I hope to write posts about a cute little gift my friend gave me tonight, the paintings I made for the school (I have yet to take photos of them), and some thoughts I’ve been meaning to share for the past couple months. We’ll see how that goes. In the meantime, I wish you good weather, peace, love, good health, and happiness!

Invisible or Superstar?

Often I feel invisible. This isn’t a complaint. I’m not actually invisible. I just feel that way. Sometimes it is even a preference. I’m usually content to hide behind the scenes. I opted not to speak at my own wedding. It’s a bride’s prerogative. I like being near people but don’t necessarily enjoy too much interaction. Put me off in the corner (preferably by a sunny window) with a task that doesn’t involve numbers and I am a very happy camper.

This past week I have been volunteering at my kids’ school. I’m painting some canvases for a courage to communicate initiative. I think if every kid learned how to communicate issues effectively we’d avoid a lot of childhood bullying and eventually workplace bullying. An exciting thought! I like being involved in this project because I believe in it. As someone who was formerly bullied in school and at work, I am eager to see others learn how to avoid or stop it. Somehow it makes the painting just that much more enjoyable.

I’m set up with my paints in the front lobby of the school. It is full of sunshine. I’m working by myself but people are constantly coming and going. It’s just the right amount of engagement for me. I’ve really enjoyed my time. A few more days and I’ll be finished my work on the project. I think I’ll miss coming in to the school every day!

I haven’t been invisible. It isn’t the norm for some lady to be painting canvases in the lobby so I stand out quite a bit. The people who have approached me have been so friendly and encouraging. I love how honest and open the kids are about their curiosity. There have been a few times when I am the equivalent of a super star, which I find highly amusing and endearing. My son’s class (four and five year olds) walks past the lobby to get to the gym. The students know me from my son’s birthday party and a couple of volunteer experiences.  I was greeted with waves and loud “Hi, ____’s Mom!” as the students walked past me. Each wanted their chance to give me a personal shout out. What I found even more amusing was that my son was mostly in his own little world as he walked down the hall near the end of the line. Even though everyone was saying his name as they called to me, he didn’t notice. He was busy hopping like a bunny or watching his feet as he walked. I had to “psst” to get his attention and then he gave me a shy little wave. Despite his claims that he doesn’t enjoy school, I’ve never seen him without a big smile whenever I’ve observed him there.

My daughter’s class has walked by a couple times as well and I got several waves from her friends but it was lacking the same exuberance. I’m okay with that. Although, my daughter runs out of line to give me hugs and kisses. That makes me happy but then I get a bit stressed as I have to pry her off of me and send her back on her way.

I haven’t felt like such a superstar since I lived in Japan. Back then, whenever I walked through a mall, I always felt like I was on display. Eyes were always on me. Strangers would stare. Some would say hello as if they knew me. Some would wave. My students would greet me if they spotted me out in public. Once I was dressed up for a party and heads turned. I think that is the only time in my life that heads actually turned to look at me. Well, aside from the time I tripped and fell in the middle of traffic. That was a different sort of attention grabbing. Maybe someday I’ll post a photo from that party in Japan. I’m sorry but I have no photo of falling flat on my face in the middle of the road.

I’ll have to share some photos of the paintings once they are complete. In the meantime, please feel free to gaze deeply at the photos of my paint supplies. Also take some time to have a wonderful weekend too!

Monday is the new Sunday

No, Monday is in no way the new Sunday but I didn’t blog yesterday so I was hoping to pull one over on you. Did it work? One could say I’ve already botched my attempt to blog 100 days in a row. I prefer to say that “life happens”. I had an overreaction yesterday. As I’ve mentioned, I’m recovering from Strep Throat. When my daughter complained that her neck was stiff and she had a sore looking throat, I immediately wanted a doctor to check her out. So, no blog post. We’re still waiting for results on the strep test but it appears she is fine. Certainly no meningitis. Better safe than sorry, right?

What I wanted to blog about is the movie “Boyhood“. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Critically acclaimed movie written and directed by Richard Linklater. I borrowed it from the library and finally sat down and watched it.

As you may know, the movie is filmed over the course of 11 years. I have to wonder what my thoughts would have been had I not known this little fact before viewing. Would it have been immediately obvious? Or would I have wondered how on earth they found actors that look so similar? Either way, it was a brilliant concept. Well done, Richard!

What I love most about Linklater films is his completely unconventional way of telling a story. There is nothing contrived about his methods. Most movies are well, dramatic. Big things happen. All the time. For most people, life just doesn’t happen that way.

Photo Credits: Ellar Coltrane. Photo Credit: Matt Lankes/IFC

So this got me thinking about anxiety disorders. People are quick to blame anxiety on so many different things: Population growth, too much social media, allergens, too much work, being coddled by parents. I will happily (or anxiously) agree with most of those but I would like to add another one to the list: Movies and TV Shows. Before screens we had to rely on books but it takes longer to read so I’m guessing the constant flow of dramatic things happening are less jarring.

Photo Credits: Ellar Coltrane. Photo Credit: Matt Lankes/IFC

Watching the movie, I caught myself expecting Big. Dramatic. Things. to happen at various points in the film. I’d cringe or brace myself for something bad to happen. Something like “oh no, they’re going to get in a car crash… oh no, someone is going to get shot… oh no, she’s going to have a heart attack”. Usually, I’m right but not when it comes to Richard Linklater films. It is because he doesn’t rely on typical formulas. The intent isn’t so much to entertain the viewer as it is to share the experience unfolding on screen. I liken it to being a spirit guide watching its charge. We’re getting intimate insight into these characters’ lives in hopes of learning something about ourselves.

Photo Credits: Ellar Coltrane. Photo Credit: Matt Lankes/IFC

I have to say, I much prefer watching this sort of film. I really think all my years of watching episodes of Hunter, Monk, and BH90210 (I’m being funny) have trained me to overreact to life. It can’t be healthy. Most of the time, big dramatic things aren’t always waiting to jump out at us. Life is usually more subtle than that. Experiences shape us the same way weather erodes a mountain. It’s not one big strike of lighting. It’s the constant elements beating down that changes its shape.

Photo Credits: Ellar Coltrane. Photo Credit: Matt Lankes/IFC

I loved this movie because the boy had a real life. I wish he didn’t have to experience any trauma and pain, of which he certainly had more than his fair share. Yet it wasn’t a life of constant tragedy and euphoric highs. He pushed on through, observed, reacted, dismissed, internalized, and lived each day. He survived Boyhood and without a lot of unnecessary drama and anxiety, I was entertained.

Saturday Night

You may have noticed I did a little housekeeping on this here ole blog. I liked the way it looked before but I know it was a bit cumbersome to navigate so hopefully I’ve simplified things a bit. Let me know what you think!

My intention was just to post some layouts I’ve done the past few months but somehow that led to a blog clean up session! Just as well.

Anyway, my posting layouts has been long overdue. I haven’t had much time the past few months to do much scrapbooking but I hope that will change in the coming months.

1. I wrote about my views on faith. I enjoyed making a paper layout. I was so happy I even used up some 15 year old vellum AND made a washi tape leaf too! I covered a wood veneer shape (Always) with gold glitter. That was fun.

2. This layout was so enjoyable to put together. Some whimsy, some paper, some tape, some thoughts. It does soothe my soul.

3. This was my heartfelt attempt to explain how my children are growing up and leaving their babyhoods far behind. I went digital with this layout.

4. I used instagram photos and Facebook statuses to document what I did during the same week in February during three different years.

5. Ah, Pinterest. How do I love thee?

6. Pocket Pages aren’t just for documenting your week. I used this one to tell the story of how I spent Saturdays when I was young. I love the nostalgia!

How fitting I should show my “Hello Saturday” layout last. How different this Saturday was from the ones of my childhood. Although my husband did text me an article about Golden Girls Lego. Not quite the same as watching an originally airing episode but I’ll take it. As well, I did indulge in some chips and dip. Definitely something I would have done in 1985.

Goodbye Saturday! Sleep tight!

 

Where was I?

Oh right, squirrels. I spent a good five minutes trying to remember what I wanted to write about. Happy Little Squirrels. Maybe a few other things too.

On Tuesday the kids and I went to the park briefly on our walk home. I’d just picked up our mail and I had a package with lovely calligraphic writing for the address. It was from my lovely friend Nancie Rowe Janitz. She sent me Happy Mail!!!!

While the kids played I opened it and was over the moon excited when I saw the goodies inside. She had sent me a painting! I am now the proud owner of an original Nancie Rowe Janitz piece of art! She had posted a photo of it on Facebook a couple months ago and I had admired it then. Such a lovely and enchanting girl (I’m referring to the girl in the painting but it would apply to Nancie as well)!

Also in the package was Yogi tea. I LOVE Yogi Tea. I had mentioned to Nancie that I’m not able to get certain flavours of the tea in Canada (boo hoo) and she thoughtfully took note and sent me some. Isn’t that incredibly thoughtful? I think so. The tea came at such a good time since I haven’t been feeling well lately. By the way, the flavours are: Honey Lavender Stress Relief and Soothing Caramel Bedtime. YUMMY!

The above photo is my first cup I had right after we returned from the park. It was the Honey Lavender Stress Relief tea. I feared the Soothing Caramel Bedtime tea would put me to sleep before I even made supper. So I had that later (see below). I love the tea but I also love the inspiring little notes on each tea bag.

You are probably now very happy for me but wondering what this has to do with squirrels. Well, as my children were playing and I was hugging my care package, a squirrel was scurrying behind my park bench. I looked over and gasped. The squirrel had some squirming creature in its mouth. My first thought was that it had a mouse and then I came to my senses. Squirrels don’t eat mice. It must be a squirrel baby. Yes, that’s it. This squirrel was carrying its baby. It ran over and up a tree and down inside where her next must be hidden. Then she came out and ran across the park. Soon she ran back with another baby in her mouth. She did this circuit several times. She must have a pretty large litter of babies. Maybe six or so. I’m so curious about why she was moving her babies. Did she go out for a jaunt and go into labour? Or was she moving the babies from a pre-existing nest to a new one? How nerve wracking it must have been for her to have to leave babies in one place while she transported them one at a time. Once I got home, I looked up videos of baby squirrels and confirmed that was what I saw. Yup, it was.

Ok, so I covered the squirrels and the Happy Mail. Phew! Then I guess my mission is accomplished and my day is done. Goodnight friends!

7 years and it is still snowing

Yesterday afternoon I was rejoicing in the lack of snow left on the ground. I love that spring is finally approaching. I got the kids off the bus and my youngest wanted to play in the one remaining pile of snow near our culvert. It is a rather large and tall chunk of icy snow. The scene reminded me of when I first saw our home seven years ago. It was a dull, grey, rainy day just like the weather is now. I remember being surprised that there was still snow on the ground since my home 8 hours away in a warmer region was much more spring like with leaves starting to bud. Here, nature was still struggling to let go of winter. I was rather disgruntled as I hated the idea of having to adapt to an even shorter summer season. Pondering the snow pile, it occurred to me that it was exactly this time 7 years ago. Like, to the date. Woah.

Our house the first time I saw it. 2008.

So, how did my life look this week in April of 2008? The ninth was a Wednesday. This year it is a Thursday (yup, that’s today). My parents, my husband, my newborn daughter and I arrived at our hotel downtown. We spent the next few days searching the area for a place to call home. On the Thursday my daughter turned one month old. Yup, we traveled 8 hours to search for a new home with a five week old baby! Good times. So if you go by the day of the week, that would have been 7 years ago today. By the Saturday (12th) we drove up to check out the last house of the day and right away it was pretty obvious this was where we wanted to be. We could envision our new little family growing here. Many of the things I had envisioned have now come to fruition and become fond memories. On the Sunday we put in an offer and by mid-July we moved into the house that has become our home.

Baby girl was hungry during house hunting.

It took a long time for me to get comfortable here. You could say I don’t easily adapt to new situations. Yes, you could say that. It has really been this past year that I’ve started to feel rooted to the area. Some things just take time. Seven years to be exact.

My daughter soon after we returned home from househunting. See how excited she was when she found out we bought the home?

Oh and to get totally off topic before I end today’s post. I mentioned two blog posts ago that I’d make an update on the usefulness of a sore throat gargle tea I made. Well, I finally went in to see the doctor and I have full blown strep throat (in my ears too). So, I guess the tea was a failure. Ah well, I tried.

Well, aren’t you the lucky ones?

During one of my many moments of procrastination, I found myself wandering the internet aimlessly. I was browsing my instagram feed where I came across a challenge I’d never heard of before. The 100 Day Project. The instagram photo asked the question “What could you do with a 100 days of making?” and it got me wondering exactly that. The project is the brainchild of Elle Luna at The Great Discontent. Well, actually, it was the brainchild of her art school teacher for a class project. She took it one step further and brought it to social media. Each participant decides what they want to make for a 100 days. Want to make a tutu every day for a 100 days? Go for it. Want to write an ode to your eyelashes each day for the next few months? Hook Rugs? Paint a rock? Invent Tofu recipes? Knit a really long scarf? Create to your heart’s desire? Yes! Just hashtag it when you’re done at the end of the day and post a photo to instagram. Repeat 99 more times and you’re done!

So, this morning I joined. I’m going to blog every day for a 100 days. See, you ARE lucky? All those ideas whirling in my head are going to be lassoed and thrown right onto the bright white screen for all of you to read. Ah, it’s like I just handed you a four leaf clover, ain’t it?

Now, a part of me (in my brain area) asked if I might possibly be insane adding more onto my plate when I’m already struggling severely to meet deadlines. Ah yes, that. Hmm. Then in my heart area, a thumping and highly repetitive voice said “Relax. Practicing the fine art of writing every day will HELP you meet your deadlines. Think of it as a primer.” I listened to my heart. Then my stomach chimed in and begged for some attention. So I pledged my allegiance to the challenge on instagram and headed to the kitchen for a snack. Here is what I posted:

The graphic was one of three. Participants get to pick which one they use to show they’ve joined the project. It’s free, by the way. Free of cost, free to choose, freewill.

Feel free to follow or play along. What do you think you’d like to make each day for 100 days?

My heart is a-flutter with clutter!

I love my stuff. I have lots and lots and lots of stuff. However, too much of something is not necessarily a good thing. So, I need to share the good stuff with the rest of the world. I joined a Facebook group for a 40 days of de-cluttering challenge. Perfect! I spent much of last week in a flurry of manic energy, running around the house sorting bins of stuff to keep, stuff to donate, stuff to share, stuff to throw out. It felt GOOOOD. Then on Sunday, I crashed. Zzzzzz.

This week I have to make up for last week’s inability to get computer/paper work done. I could not sit still or focus last week. The kids were off on Monday and sick on Friday. My husband was busy with a work event so I saw him sleeping briefly but that was about all really. Glad to have him back now that the event is over! Phew!

I have a really hard time letting go of things that still have purpose. I imagine the item sitting in a landfill taking up unnecessary space. Yet, it is taking up unnecessary space in my home. I’ve been trying to think of creative ways to get the stuff out of my house. I’ve been donating books, plastic bags and sticker sheets to the local library. I joined a BuyNothing Facebook group and a local Buy/Sell Facebook group. Every bin that leaves my home makes me feel lighter.

I’ve been thinking about my home a lot lately. How does it reflect my personality and that of my family? How can I keep it clean? What can I change or rearrange to make it more functional for our needs? How can I make it more of a haven?

OI!!!! The above paragraphs were written a month and a half ago. They were lost in the land of draft folders. I was on such a roll with organization and getting rid of stuff. It was halted when my in-laws came for a visit. I’m happy to report I had the bedroom and bathroom in top condition for their stay thanks to my de-cluttering efforts.

I also hosted my daughter’s very chaotic and energetic birthday party. Then my husband left for Spain for 10 days during my kids’ March Break. The kids had varying degrees of colds. I hosted my son’s birthday party and then my husband returned just in time for my kids to return to school. That is when I crashed. Cold or flu, who knows. Then I lost my voice. Two weeks later, it has turned into tonsillitis and strep throat. My house is A MESS and I am very tired! I am happy to say I’ve gotten rid of loads of stuff but every room is still needing a serious minimalization. Yes, I like making up words and terms.

Now that I’m seeing hints of Spring, I know I’ll be outside soon working in the gardens. Which means I’ll have less time to tackle cleaning indoors. I’m pretty much okay with this. Turns out my messes will wait for me.

Right now I just want to feel better and get my design work done. I’ve been trying to work on a potentially awesome project for months but if I let much more time pass I’m going to lose it! So today, I tried a concoction I found on Pinterest that claims to rid one of Strep Throat. I’ve renamed the remedy “fire breathing gargle tea”. I steeped a cup of Lemon Ginger tea and then added a tablespoon of honey, a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar, and a teaspoon of cayenne. Woah! I gargled each mouthful for a good 10 seconds. Apparently Cayenne will kill off strep bacteria. I’m hopeful.

I’ll let you know how the tea works.

My Life with a Smart Phone

I have entered the new Millenium. In January, I got my very first iPhone. Before that, I’d occasionally use my husband’s iPhone 4. How has my life changed? You’d better sit down for this.

1. My friends can text me. Imagine that! It has been very helpful for sharing carpool duties and sharing info. I was shopping and saw something my friend was looking for so I took a quick photo and sent a text. I wish I’d had something like that in 1983. Am I right, ladies? (I’m sorry, I just really wanted to say that last sentence. No particular reason.)

2. People can reach me wherever I am. I can actually leave my home and not worry about the school calling me, or my husband wondering where I am, or the car breaking down and finding a phone. Amazing.

3. My husband can know where I am just by checking his Find Friends app. Some extra peace of mind in case I (perish the thought) get in an accident, get lost, or have a car issue. GPS is a beautiful thing.

4. Now I have something to do while I wait at the bus stop. Yesterday was the first day it was warm enough to actually use the phone without my fingers freezing. I bought a pair of those gloves that let you use your phone but my fingers still froze.

5. Shopping. Ah, shopping. Coupons on the go! Price comparisons. So many wonderful things you can do in the middle of a store. Take photos of “this might work” or “ooh, gotta remember this for next time”or uh, this:

Heh, found this product sitting like this in the dollar store. It should say “Live”. I was tempted to change it to “Vile”.

6. When I’m working with Adobe programs on my computer, I usually can’t have my web browser or other programs open. With my lovely phone, I can check my email, facebook, or anything else I need while working on my graphic design stuff. Very important, indeed.

7. Photos are everywhere. I’m loving iCloud. Photos are taken on my phone and then I see them on my computer. That’s a serious level of awesome.

8. I can record my kids having funny conversations. That never gets old.

9. I can make lists and now I have no excuse for leaving my grocery list at home. It’s on my phone.

10. This is a biggie. It’s my cookbook! I’m constantly searching for recipes or ingredients on the Allrecipes app. Or if that doesn’t have what I need, I do a quick “google”.

I realize these are “uh, duh” reasons that are obvious but I’m okay with that. That’s kind of the point. I’m a little late to 2015.

I try to imagine how much easier this would have made my entire life. Then I try to imagine how my kids will struggle to fathom how it must have been for us old fogies to live in an era where information had to be sought out with great effort and often to no avail. I remember being limited to the newspaper, the encyclopedias, Sassy magazine, and whatever our library had on the shelves. I had to imagine what celebrities did in their free time. There was no twitter feed showing me what Alyssa Milano ate for breakfast. But here is what I had for lunch.

For my next post, I’ll show you how I made those Sharpie T-shirts in the last post.