I’m sitting on a deck right now. In lovely (very wet ) southern Manitoba. The trickle of water coming from my Mom’s fountain is so calming. The smell of lilacs in bloom is intoxicating. And I’m following the goings on in the House of Commons (Canada Post filibuster) via Twitter.

Ooh there is a huge bumblebee. I wasn’t quick enough to catch a photo.

It’s my first full day on the farm and I am having a wonderful time. Went into town today to get some.groceries (grilled wild salmon tonight for supper!) and run some errands.

And I think I hear Dad. It’s time to go golfing.

Joe asked for a dinner for Christmas and this is what I delivered. Mushroom stuffed pork tenderloin, bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, steamed spinach, cranberry sauce. Not pictured was the divine cheesecake that I made using Anna Olson’s “Perfect Cheesecake” recipe. The bottle of wine was delicious, a pinot noir from France.

Only thing missing was our family.

Joe had to work this Christmas and New Year (both eve and day) and so a few of our family traditions were missed but not forgotten. We both stayed in Toronto and celebrated with the kittens. Christmas Eve was spent exploring downtown Toronto and then coming home to make our feast. We both drank rum and eggnog while everything cooked and by the time we were eating dessert I was about ready to pass out. And so we did. Thankfully Santa visited and we opened our gifts with my family over Skype. We ate lefse (another post in the making) and hard boiled eggs. New Years Eve was spent puddling around, as has been my favourite activity for the past little while. Joe arrived home around 1am and we shared a midnight (Manitoba time) kiss and toasted the new year with a glass of sparkling orange soda (yet another post for later). And then we ate supper and watched a couple episodes of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

The past year I spent a lot of time thinking. Even more time than I spent puddling around or watching Deep Space Nine. The kind of thinking one does when one goes through serious amounts of change and has the opportunity to start fresh. The blog has been quiet because I’m defining things for myself and I’m not sure what I’m sharing where. And I have a lot of balls in the air and I’m not sure which ones I’m going to catch. And because I believe firmly that I can jinx things by talking about them prematurely, the blog has been quiet.

Though there were so many defining moments, but on 10/10/10 I forgave myself. Things have been good since then, but I can’t take a chance for a day like New Years (at least for those of us who follow the Gregorian calendar) to make more changes. Again it mostly lies in forgiving myself the transgressions of the past year (not finding steady employment, not keeping the house clean, not properly unpacking) and focusing on the person I want to put forward today and all the days after that. I’m cutting myself some slack on the cleaning bit and not worrying too much about that until February when I will follow the Chinese New Year tradition of having my house clean for that new year.

I’m going to listen to a lot more CBC. Today’s post (and the upcoming post on lefse) are inspired by Sook-Yin Lee and her “family ritual” themed episode of Definitely Not the Opera. Last night I listened to Jian Giomeshi’s interview with Sarah Silverman. I never thought I liked her until I listened to what *she* had to say, instead of the character that she plays.

Made me think of what I have to say.

I take things quite personally. Too personally sometimes, but that is something I’m working on. I’ve let a few people say things that hurt me right to my core and made me change who I was. Or am. Or will be? Whatever me at whatever time has not been saying and doing things for fear of being hurt. Of being judged. Of being laughed at. Of being denied. And I can’t really blame me. I’ve had my heart broken open, I’ve been told I didn’t deserve to be in the public service, I’ve had people throw things at me and say they were harpooning a beluga whale, I’ve written tens of job applications over the past year and only had one contact me to say I wasn’t right for the position. I’ve got a lot of reasons to be afraid.

But I can’t hide in my apartment forever. I’ve conquered many of my demons (the whale demon is still out there) and there is a world out there to explore. There are words to write down and photos to take. There are panic attacks to tell you about. There are recipes to share. There are jobs and other mysterious things to apply for. There are fingers to cross. There are bills to pay.

Happy New Year folks, at least if your year starts today. For those if you who celebrate later, I’ll join you then. For those of you who don’t celebrate, we should have a beer or lemonade or glass of wine. Maybe we should think together sometime.

Though the girls have been quite happy for the extra pets and cuddles, I’ve not been the best patient. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m a terrible sick person. I’m a wimp who dramatically moans when in pain. The piano tied to my ass grows three times the size (at least) and I toss and turn and wake up the cats. Who then yell at me in their own little ways.

I have a headache.

Laying in bed with a headache means I’m in and out of sleep and have taken pain medication, so my dreams are more wild than usual. Today I’ve taken part in a reality show that brought back exchange students from my childhood, questioned the paternity of of the heir to a made-up empire, gone to the gym on Christmas Day to find out it was free and visited my fantasy Byward Market.

I say fantasy because it seemed to have all of my favourite things and no crowds.

Of all of the mixed up places my brain has taken me, the Byward Market was the most vivid. I remember standing beside the Moulin de Provence and feeling a terrible sense of loss. And the fact that I was mouse-sized didn’t help.

It’s been almost a year since I left and because of my unsteady income I’ve not been able to plan a trip back. I don’t miss a lot of things, but I do miss my dear friends and all of the places I loved to go. I miss sandwiches from Bread & Sons, walking by Parliament, poutine trucks on (almost) every corner, beautiful bike rides along the canal and parkway. And shawarma.

Sure. Toronto has substitutes for some of those things. Just like both Toronto and Ottawa have places that remind me of Darlingford. But nothing really compares to the original when you are missing home.

And I can say for a fact that I miss all of my homes–Darlingford, Ottawa, Toronto–when I’m away from them for too long.

It’s cold outside and we’re (the cats and I) spending a lot of time wrapped in blankets and pondering the meaning of life. Many of the conversations revolve around treats and chasing bits of string. All of us want to chase snowflakes and are thankful to be car-less apartment-dwellers. I’m thankful to have two lap-warmers to keep me warm when Joe is out hunting and gathering.

I’ve started writing in a paper journal. Things have been here and there and I don’t think the Internet is very interested in that. I’ve done a lot of soul searching and heart mending.

I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

I wonder what percentage of blog posts are apologies for not posting more? That certainly isn’t what this is.

It was about a year ago that I called Joe and asked him if he would mind a roommate. Well, three roommates. In about a month it will be a full year since we packed the little rental with cat carriers and he drove me home in the wet snow. That year has flown by. I have no regrets.

Not having a steady income and trying to find work in a recession is humbling. Small things become greatly appreciated. It is easier to create standards when you have to really think about what you need. Working for myself has helped me discover things inside me that I had buried and almost forgotten.

I have irons in the fire but my pessimistic side is being cryptic because you all don’t need to share in my disappointment and my optimistic side will be much more excited to share the news once it arrives.

I wonder what percentage of blog posts are cryptic apologies for not posting? Will my WordPress theme resize the photo? Will I have to fix it once I’m back at desk?

So many questions to ponder. Only time will tell.

* This post was brought to you from bed via the WordPress app for the iPhone and the letter M. Two kittens were given many pets during the typing of this post.

Today is Remembrance Day. My first Remembrance Day in 10 years that I’m not in Ottawa for the ceremony downtown.

I’m very grateful for that for so long I was able to be at the ceremony in Ottawa. Remembrance Day at our house was a pretty important day. We always attended a ceremony or participated along with the one on television from Ottawa. That means singing along and standing up and being quiet when you had to be. And I wanted very much to be one of the kids laying the wreath on behalf of the Youth of Canada. For many years I tried to get there in high school through the Royal Canadian Legion’s Remembrance Contest. I entered in both the literary and poster sections and made it far enough to get a certificate once or twice. All I wanted to do was to be able to go the nation’s capital and take part in the ceremony that I’d watched so many times on television. The photo above is from 1998, which was my last entry.

On Remembrance Day I reflect on a number of things. I think about my grandfather and uncles who went to war and of the uncle who didn’t come back. I think about the fact that I was lucky to be at a ceremony with Prince Charles and how happy my great auntie would have been to know I was there. I think of my grandparents and my great aunts and uncles and my aunt who didn’t go to war but aren’t with me today. I think about my cousin a few times removed who was killed in battle in Afghanistan.

The painting above is titled “Remember our Children. N’oublions pas nos enfants.” I used a photo of my grandfather for the inspiration for the soldier and thought of the wonderful grey-haired people in my life for the couple. I also like how it was painted at a time when the centres of the Canadian poppy were green. My favourite part is the father’s nose.

Lest we forget.

I didn’t really realize it was upon me until the Internet told me. When I read about 10/10/10 and realized how lucky it was and realized it only comes once a century, I figured it out. Today is the day.

10 is and always will be my favourite number. I was born on the 10th. When I leveled characters on the MUD I played I liked it when their stats were multiples of 10. When I pick a number between 1 and 10 I usually pick…well you get the idea.

I started writing this post at 10:00 pm. The photo above was taken shortly before I pressed “Add new post” at 10:00 pm. It’s a photo of the me that I’ve forgiven myself for everything that I’ve been feeling guilty about that has happened prior to today. You’ll notice that I let you see part of my apartment. You’ll notice that I haven’t put the frosted MACtac on the windows of the door so we’re using a towel for privacy. You’ll notice that Joe likes Blue. Thankfully you can’t see the dishes or the fact that my bookshelf is unorganized.

But it doesn’t really matter because today I’m starting fresh.

In no particular order and by no means is this list exhaustive, these are the things I’m going to do my very best not to feel bad about anymore:

• I moved to Toronto ten months ago and still haven’t fully moved in
• I’m a terrible housekeeper
• I left a full-time well paying job in the middle of a recession
• I gained a lot of weight and haven’t lost as much of it as I would have liked
• I moved far away from my family and spend a lot of holidays without them
• I was unceremoniously dumped after almost 7 years and all I got for closure was a note duct-taped to the wall
• I have a huge debt: student loans and a line of credit that subsidized my life after the ex left
• I didn’t blog/take photos/sing/sew/et cetera as much as I would have liked

There are more. And there is a list of things that I’m promising to myself, but that will be the subject of future blog posts. Cause I’m blogging more, whether I like it or not.

But right now I want very much to hit publish and get this started. I’m turning a new page and I can’t wait.

/publish

Post inspired by Mr. Joe Bougher’s idea to see what we’d write for our very last post. Photo taken July 7, 2004 before this blog was even a thought and before I’d done any of the growing I’ve done since then.

If I’ve met you (face to face or online, no matter) and we’ve had a conversation, you will always be in my heart.

Before I go on, I just want you to know that I wish I had blogged to you more often. Just about every day since I created this blog in April 2005 after I finished my Master’s degree, I think about things I’d like to blog about and photos that I’d like to share with you. But weeks went by and all of a sudden it was a new year.

Moving along.

One of the (many) things I’ve learned while I’ve had this blog is that my heart and my brain are very much connected. Some people can easily make decisions with their heart with which their head won’t agree. Some people can easily make decisions with their head with which their heart won’t agree. I cannot easily do either. This causes me heartache. I’ve lost many opportunities because of this. I have a hard time not being Melanie all of the time, flaws and all.

I can remember one year (I was in my teens) at Corn and Apple (the local summer festival) I really wanted a slave bracelet (“a wrist bracelet joined to a ring by a chain”) and I was very excited that I’d saved the money to buy one. I went to all the vendors and found the one I wanted. It had a yin-yang symbol on it and I loved it. I have large fingers, so I made sure it fit the finger I wanted it to fit. It was $27, which was a lot of money to me. There were a lot of people and the vendor was hurrying me along as she didn’t like that I was touching things. Now that I think about it, I was a punk kid so she probably thought that I was going to take it. So I rushed. And I bought it.

Heart before head. I wanted the bracelet bad.

As I was walking away, I tried to put it on. The ring fits. The bracelet does not. My stomach drops. I turn around to a huge “NO REFUNDS” sign. I panic. I turn around and turn on the charm while trying not to cry. It works. I have my $27 back. But no bracelet.

Why is this story important?

I’m still sick to my stomach every time I think about this. Writing this down was hard. The anxiety I felt weighed on me and the guilt I felt for making a rash decision haunted me for a very long time. I had nightmares about it and can remember coming into my parent’s bedroom one night in tears because I couldn’t get back to sleep.

What this shows about me: I think about things. I mull things over. I replay events over and over again in my head, both good and bad. What if I had said that? What if I had done that? What if I had blogged more? What if I’d tweeted less? What if I hadn’t told people that I loved them?

So. If this were my last post, this is what I’d want to say:

I love you Dad. I love you Mom. I love you little sister. I love you little brother. I love you Joe. I love all of the family members who are up in heaven watching down.

I love you Buttons. I love you Clawdia. I love you Pawlyanna. I love you Shadow. I love you Shelby. I love all of the pets who are up in heaven getting belly rubs for eternity.

To my dearest lady and gentlemen friends (in the order we met) CG, ZY, AH, VN, OH, VB, JS, EM, JD, DZ: You are loved.

To the little kiddos out there that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting: You are loved.

To all of you: If I’ve met you and we’ve had a conversation, you will always be in my heart.

There are 500 photos in the queue and 500 stories to go with each of them. But rather than keep you waiting, I thought I’d introduce you to the relaxed Melanie that Joe caught on camera one evening while the family played Scrabble on the deck while the sun set over the barn. I love the farm and I loved a relaxing week off with Joe.

I had a great time. So great a time that I came home completely exhausted and had to sleep for a week before I got back on schedule. Well, kind of.

As I mentioned on Twitter, my first thoughts of home turn back to the job hunt. Which in turn gives me anxiety and sleepless nights. Which were amplified by the fact that I had just had a wonderful week at home with my family where I didn’t let myself worry about money or jobs or anything. For a whole week. It was great.

Joe and I are finally tackling the apartment. Clutter and mess in the apartment is a huge indicator of my mental well being, so getting that straightened out will come with great relief. We still have 2x lots of things (two kitchen shelves, two sets of cutlery, two sets of dishes) and so about half has to go. And with the heat it’s been less than motivating to start carting stuff to the thrift store. The cats are lovely and cuddly and glad to have us back. Other than things are a bit financially strained everything is great.

Everything is great.

It’s nice to say that once and a while.

Internet: I talk a lot about Him (and those of you know know me know I ain’t talkin’ bout Jesus) and yesterday I (re)blogged about the night we met. I also wasn’t feeling well yesterday. Still not feeling 100% today. So many feelings, eh?

Joe a rather awesome guy who just happened to live in another city when we met. He hated to talk on the phone, but he talked to me on the phone almost every day for nine months. He’s a rather awesome guy who I’d only see when I went to Toronto or when he came to Ottawa. Which meant if we were lucky, we’d see each other twice a month for a weekend.

This photo was taken by Joe just after noon, three days before my 28th birthday. It was taken on one of the first extended visits we’d had with each other.

I wasn’t feeling the greatest, but I was feeling well enough to make it to the top of the Cup & Saucer, a lovely hiking trail on Manitoulin Island. One of the main reasons that I was feeling up to it was that I wasn’t carrying around 50lbs that was there the year before. Which is why you get to see a full body shot.

We were visiting his family camp as I was on my week long birthday celebration holiday. We spent Labour Day at camp, went back to Toronto and dealt with me exhausting myself while I was still a bit under the weather. But it was a great week. Suffice it to say, I’ve been a bit busy. Life changing busy.

I started this blog (I know, you’ve heard this before) in April 2005 as a way for me to document my adventures in the “real world”. It wasn’t long before I began working for the federal public service.

And here we are, over five years later. Since I’ve just recently re-launched the blog, the stories aren’t all here yet. But I’ve got five years of posts waiting to be edited and re-shared with you all.

Don’t worry if it’s kind of a blur to you. It’s kind of a blur to me as well. During that time I had one major nervous breakdown and a couple of smaller ones. But everything before January 1, 2010? That was Chapter 1.

Chapter 2 promises to be more interesting. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and boy do I have stories to tell.

So what’s was so special about January 1, 2010? Other than it was over six months ago and I’ve still not blogged about it?

On New Year’s Eve Joe came to Ottawa and whisked me (and my kittens) away on his black steed (okay it was a black hatchback) to Toronto. We arrived at 11:30 pm. Enough time to go to Jug Town for a bottle of orange pop and a box of kitty litter. We toasted the new year and promptly fell into bed. Well, onto the futon mattress on the floor. I had hired movers, so my stuff arrived the following Tuesday. It’s still kind of not unpacked. So no photos have been taken. But Joe, the kittens, and I are very happy in our well located, reasonably priced Toronto apartment. Even if it is a mess.

I’d had enough with the job I was in. I felt like I’d become wallpaper and couldn’t get ahead. Or a break. When I made the decision to move, I was coming up on the end of an acting assignment and there was really no hope for anything after that. Management had done what they could, but it really looked as though I was going back to being a junior analyst after I’d spent a year and a half as a “full” program (and even Senior) officer. With the long distance relationship I was using my already too expensive apartment like a hotel. I was able to walk to and from work, but I was so exhausted/depressed/disheartened that the five blocks seemed like an eternity.

It was a good choice. In late January I learned that I’d failed the competition I’d been in for my branch. I’m rather fond of the saying “if you don’t have anything nice to say…” so I’ll leave it at that. But had I been in Ottawa for that and had Joe and I been apart when I got that email, I probably still would be bawling on the floor. My experiences in the public service had very much been of the “If anything bad can happen, it will happen” variety. It probably isn’t that way for everyone. But it was my reality. Well, at least until last January.

For six month’s I’ve woke up on Monday mornings (okay, afternoons) and didn’t feel a ball of dread in my stomach. Even though I’ve taken off the golden handcuffs (for at least six more months) and given up all the security and benefits that go along with them, I feel more free than I’ve ever felt. I’ve gone through bits of my belongings and my blog and started sharing things or throwing them out. I’m glad that I can say that a chapter of my life has come and gone.

Now, on to Chapter 2.

You might have been wondering where I’ve been. My presence here comes in fits and spurts it seems. I’m trying to fix that. I’m getting a lot of help from Joe. I’m actually planning on launching another blog. I know, two blogs for me to post on in fits and spurts! The real reason for not posting this time? I just finished a ginormous writing contract. I traveled two and from the office for three weeks. It was nice. I’ve enjoyed sleeping in yesterday and today. And I’ll probably enjoy it again tomorrow. And then maybe I’ll worry about finding more work.

I’m also in a bit of a down period right now, bless Joe for not suffocating me with a pillow. I’m having trouble sleeping. And me having trouble sleeping means I’m super cranky. Which means I probably shouldn’t blog unsupervised. But really with no supervisor there is no one stopping me.

It’s the beginning of having someone in my life who no matter how many bad dreams I have about him leaving, he kisses me and says I’m stuck with him forever. Or is he stuck with me forever? I can’t remember for sure.

And for those of you who like the rose (Joe’s rose, i) and don’t watch my Flickr stream like a hawk: Joe’s rose, ii.

Originally posted on August 12, 2009

The Globe and Mail asked me: Do you believe in ‘the one’? [Survey is now closed, comments are pretty great though.]

Regardless of the results of that survey, the gist of it is: yes.

I believe in the one…
…who I want to spend all of my time with.
…who I immediately want to tell all of my news to, good or bad.
…who I want to ensure is the happiest person on earth.
…who is in my thoughts as soon as I wake up, all day, and before I go to bed.

I believe that there is one person out there for you that will be your best friend till the bitter end and not give up on you when even you’ve given up on yourself. I don’t believe that this person is predestined to be with you or that you’ll even meet this person. I believe that some people have to try and fail a number of times before they find that person. I believe that some people are lucky enough to find that person right away. I believe that with love and patience and effort, anything is possible.

I just got off the phone with the One as I wanted to make sure that he was okay with me talking about this online. I told him that I thought he was the one, and he was okay with that. So he’s the one that I want to spend all of my time with and all that jazz. Even though I wasn’t very good at blogging regularly before him, it certainly has been more difficult after him. Not that I’m blaming him or anything. Ahem.

I asked my ex once if he believed in “the one”. We were sitting on the futon and it was facing the big windows in our apartment and he was sitting straight and looking out towards the windows and I was sitting facing him. His answer was a flat out no, which immediately made me feel bad for suggesting such a silly thing. This should have been red flag a bajillion and two. But at the time I loved him more than anything else believed he was the one, and I fought hard to keep him. And it turns out he was right, he didn’t believe in “the one” and dumped me rather unceremoniously. And if I’m honest with myself I knew that he wasn’t the one a long time before I found that note taped to my wall with duct tape.

It took me over two years to muster up the courage to give my heart to someone, over two years of thinking and creating standards for myself and listening to those around me and not just rushing in head first and making more mistakes than I had time to fix. I thought I was broken beyond repair and that I’d never find anyone, let alone ‘the one’. Luckily I had people (especially V) who didn’t let me think that way all the time.

But then one night I decided that I would peel myself out of bed, put on some nice clothes (blue jeans, cute blue shoes with flowers on them, brown t-shirt, black shawl, gold necklace from my grandmother, brown beaded earrings from E.), put on some makeup (the usual black mascara, black eyeliner, sparkly bronze eyeliner, shiny lip gloss), walk outside and buy a birthday card and attend the birthday celebration of a friend of mine. It was a supper at Café Paradiso followed by dancing at The Rainbow and I had convinced myself that I would go to the supper and not drink too much and go home early.

And then my world changed.

After an evening of gorgeous food (I had the vegetarian pasta, it was one of my first meals out as a flexitarian. He had the lamb. I was really jealous) and loud funk music, I knew that I was on to something good.

I’ve had a “glorious” head cold for a week and yesterday was the first day I could think straight. I wish I could say that I’d taken that time to knit up a storm (as I have three projects in the works), but sadly it was a lot of sleeping and whining to myself. As Joe was lucky enough to be at work. So he didn’t have to witness the whining.

Originally posted February 4, 2010.

Some of you might know that I was dumped in a rather unbelievable way. It’s nice when people use the words “heartbreaking” and “inhumane” to describe my ordeal. However, out of it all came a time for me to do a lot of soul searching and a lot of thinking about who I am and what I do. I’ve come up with a list of things that I want to be able to describe myself as in the process.

And “knitter” is one of them.

I had found this pattern (Mosey Legwarmers in the Spring 2008 Issue of Knitty) while daydreaming at my desk and reading blogs. It looked altogether too complicated as I hadn’t knit in ages. My Grandma C. had spent some time teaching me and my Grandma A. knitted and crocheted up a storm. My Mom is also a crocheter and my Great Aunt and my Lang Amma were good with the needles and hooks as well.

And then the OC Transpo Great Strike of 2008 began.

You see, I lived downtown. However, the difficulty I had getting out of bed to go to work was amplified that I had to cross a river to get there. And in the cold of winter? I wasn’t really motivated to walk. Even if it was good exercise.

Thankfully a new colleague D. had arrived and she had a car and offered a ride. I helped to pay her parking, but the better part was that we became fast friends/accomplices during the neverending strike. I had been throwing the idea around about making her something to thank her, but generally became exhausted when thinking about how hard knitting or crocheting seemed to be and gave up. But then one day for some reason I showed her the pattern for the Mosey legwarmers and I knew I had to make them for her. She offered to pay for the wool and I thought I was getting a really good deal. But as I’ve quickly come to learn, it’s not the cost of the wool that matters in the grand scheme of determining something’s value: it’s the number of woman hours.

I started making these leggings the first weekend in March and I traded the cost of gas for a trip to Toronto with D. I felt good about it, but little did I know that I’d not give her the leggings for nine more months. You see, the weekend after that I met Him. And though the endless bus rides to and from Toronto would allow me to have some time to work on my project, I was happily distracted by getting to know Him. It wasn’t until I sat down over this past Christmas at home and really concentrate that I was able to finish them. The pom poms are seriously my favourite part.

I didn’t have much time between getting back to Ottawa and packing to go to Toronto, so I wasn’t able to take any photos of the leg warmers on my own, as I wanted the lovely D. to model for me! Thankfully she was able to take some photos for me and as you can see: the legwarmers aren’t half as divine as she is.

Today is a very special day. Exactly a quarter century ago, my baby sister came into this world. As you can see then, she was a cutie. She’s even cuter now!

Because on this very day I’m self-employed (another word for broke), I couldn’t buy her the gift I’d like to buy for her. In fact, I’m so broke right now I can’t even think of all the gifts I’d like to get her because it would just remind me of how I don’t have millions and millions of dollars to spend. So instead I thought I’d show the Internet this photo of the two of us and tell you all (and her) a few of the things I think about when I think of her. There are of course many other things about her that I adore, but the Internet isn’t big enough to hold them. So below, a selection:

• It’s hard for me to think of my first memories of her because I was three years old when she came home. I think. I’m not good at years or counting them forwards or backwards. In fact, I just had to do math on my fingers and I’m still not sure. But I was born in September 1981 and she was born in April 1985. So someone out there can do the math.
• What I do remember is how much I loved her, and obviously still love her. I think Mom and Dad were worried about how I’d react to another little human (as I’m sure all parents do) and I remember that Mom made me a doll out of pastel coloured fabric so I’d have something to take care of. But of what I can remember, I loved taking care of my baby sister (and eventually baby brother but it’s not his birthday so no details on him today).
• I can remember she had a lot of ear infections and she also had trouble walking. This meant we had to take trips into Winnipeg. I don’t remember much other than getting to eat at McDonalds (the one with the play room) and getting little figurines from my Happy Meal. Chicken McNuggets, fries, sweet and sour sauce. Grimace figurine. And a Hamburgler one. Hopefully I shared with her.
• We played outside. A lot. Bike rides, tree climbing, playing in the loft. I can remember a time when we were bike riding home and for some reason I stopped in the middle of the road and she ran into me. She hurt her finger and I was so scared she’d need stitches that I applied pressure to it while somehow she, little brother, and I all walked our bikes home. Thankfully no stitches, but I felt bad anyway.
• I can remember staying overnight at Grandma Ching’s house and sharing the double bed in the West bedroom. Though I’m sure she’ll have different memories (probably of me hogging blankets or snoring or something), but I remember her sprawling out all over the bed and me being afraid to move her because I didn’t want to wake her up.
• I don’t remember seeing her at school much (we were at the same school for only three years), but I do remember waiting for the bus. She was rather small (and still is! At least compared to me…) and I can remember her big backpack. And waiting at the end of the lane with little brother. And making tractor tires and Big Bird footprints in the snow.
• We shared a room when we lived in the trailer. We had an old army bunk bed that my Grandpa Arksey got for us, and Mom painted it white with red, yellow, green, and blue stairs. I slept on the top bunk with my New Kids on the Block posters and she slept on the bottom. And then we got a new bunk bed that was blue and had a double bed on the bottom, and she moved up top while long-legs-me slept on the bottom.
• When we moved from the trailer into my Grandma Ching’s house, we shared the upstairs. I had the room with the door, she had three walls. Eventually I moved out for the summer to take French immersion, and she then gave me the three walls and a curtain. Her room was always cleaner than mine.
• Often she would write me little notes, especially if she thought I was mad at her. I’ve kept them all and even though I just moved and have no idea where they are, I think she’s probably glad about that as I can’t scan them and show the Internet how awesome they are.
• Eventually she moved out for university as well, which meant little brother took the room with the door and she stayed in the room with the three walls and a curtain. When I came home from Ottawa to visit, I had the pleasure of sleeping in her bed. And she threatened me if I creased her sheets.
• My little sister makes beautiful art and went to the University of Manitoba to hone her skills. Her thesis show was of beautiful contemporary quilts and hopefully she and I can soon make a website with a gallery of her work in it. She’s infinitely talented and I’m proud to display her work in my home and talk about her skills to anyone who will listen.
• While in University she met a boy who she was rather fond of, and I remember talking with her about various things that the Internet doesn’t need to know about. But I knew he was pretty special and when she moved in with him I knew he was the One. Up until then I’d seen my baby sister as someone I took care of and had to protect, but when he asked her to marry him I knew I’d have to share the role of taking care of her and protecting her.
• Last year I had the honour of standing up with my baby sister when she told the community how much she loved that boy, and she was the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen. I’ve had my bridesmaid’s dress hanging up in my apartment so I could see it every day and be reminded of the beautiful wedding she planned and the wonderful husband she married.
• In the past two years I believe we’ve grown closer than we’ve ever been. We’re no longer big-sister and little-sister (even though we still are), we’re two women who have the same mind and who understand each other. We’re two of three peas in a pod who we can talk to about what we did that day, what our dreams are, and who is annoying us. You know, sister stuff.

I don’t expect much of the Internet to cry over any of this, but I just wanted to let you know that I cried when writing it. The past25 years have been filled with us both trying to figure out what who we were and where we fit in the world. The next 75 years (we come from a family who lives really long, so you’re going to have to put up with a lot more blog posts from me about how awesome my sister is) are going to be the best 75 years of our life, as instead of foggy memories and trying to figure ourselves out, we’ll have new opportunities and challenges ahead.

Don’t you like how I didn’t mention at all how much I’m looking forward to being an Auntie? Oops….I guess I mentioned it.

I love you baby sister! Happy Birthday!

As part of my website rehab, I plan on republishing old posts with updates. Though this post hardly counts as one from ages ago (as it’s only two months old), it still at least half applies. I’m not feeling sick, but I’m still in a space where I’m milling about and trying to figuring things out. However, I’m much better than I was at the time of writing this post. Probably because Joe is the best and understands that my mood swings aren’t personal attacks on him and has just learned to ride the waves. I’ll need to take him surfing someday on some blue-ish green waves.

Originally posted February 2010.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. The hardest part has been staying positive. As for the most part I know it’s going to be alright, but sometimes it’s hard to believe yourself when everything seems to be going completely as not planned. So not only have I been a bit depressed (blue), I’ve been feeling under the weather (green around the gills).

Financially things were stressful, an expected check or four didn’t arrive at all. He and I got to spend Valentine’s Day weekend eating cake (which was awesome) because that’s what I had the ingredients in the house to make. When I ran out of icing sugar I tried making a frosting that used flour as a thickener, quite good and much less sweet.

These few weeks of freedom from work were supposed to be stress free and time to recharge. I had it all planned out, I had enough money saved to be able to make it for a while without having to stress out about finding work. Instead I stressed out about having to find money for groceries.

Bless Him.

I’m supposed to be done a scarf for my Dad and socks for my Mom (Christmas presents no less!), but I’ve not had the ability to concentrate. And then I start feeling guilty about all of the things I’m not doing and then…gosh.

So why am I telling the wild world of the Internet this? Because we all have down days. I want to be as open and honest here on my blog about mental health issues and it wouldn’t be fair to any of us if I always painted a rosy picture. Will I go into detail about the panic attacks? Probably not, but if you want to know about them you can ask and I’ll find a way to talk to you. Because everything isn’t always bright and sunny and full of sweetness and light.

Sometimes things things are blue-ish green.

Sudbury is a community I’m only beginning to get to know. I’ve been there twice now, but this was the first extended visit. The first was on the way to Joe’s family camp on Manitoulin Island and we only stayed for a night and a chance to eat at Deluxe Hamburgers.

Best. Chicken. Sandwich. Ever.

Food distracts me. And I’m easily distracted today as though I thoroughly enjoyed the 10 hours of road trip (5 hours each way), I’m exhausted.

This trip was amazing for many reasons. We shared glorious meals (roast leg of lamb, turkey with all the fixings including this) with Joe’s family, went on drives to see family homes, and listen to Hawksley Workman‘s new album Meat (download podcast with some previews here! Recommend: (Happiest Day is A) Tokyo Bicycle) on the trip home. I visited Records on Wheels to get the album as I’d forgotten to bring any of my CDs. I didn’t stay very long as it was hot and I was over dressed. But oh the money I could spend!

I think next time I’d like to go to Science North, but only if it’s too cold for the beach.

I’ve had so many identity crises concerning my online persona I can’t even begin to tell you about them without worrying about boring you to death. I love to journal, I love to share, end of story.

I can’t promise you that I will always be that short and sweet about everything.

I’ve had an idea in my head about how I wanted my blog to look for a while.

Now that I’ve got more time on my hands (read: I’m self-employed as I took personal leave from the public service to chase my heart to Toronto), I sat down and planned my website. I planned categories and the words I’d use to describe myself and my work. I let that stew for a while and spent countless nights (my sleeping schedule is a bit off) daydreaming about the posts I would write.

I dusted off my sketchbook and drew a logo. I then scanned that and digitized it into my first digital logo ever.

I knew that I wanted a logo in my handwriting, and I wanted the “o” to be something. First I thought perhaps camera lens, but my photography is only one small part of what I want to express here. Other ideas included: a cherry (to represent love of food and my favourite colour), a ball of yarn (cause I love to knit and crochet), a button (for my love of sewing), a ring (cause I want to make more jewelery), the earth (because of my concern for politics and environment), and a music note (because I love to sing and want to learn to play piano).

I settled on a pink balloon for a reason I’ll tell you about later. I promise. Please wait in excited anticipation.