Falling in the General Direction of Up

B3 and I tested the veracity of our 11 month relationship last week. I went to Victoria to help him with his grown up paper route. Long story, but all you need to know is he is delivering over 15,000 phone directory's to several of the communities around Victoria. That's a lot. And he's been stressed about it. So I took 5 days off from work, needing a change of pace and scenery, and said I would help. 2 Air B&B's, 976 km's of driving, 56.1 km's of walking, 97,178 steps, 1 wasp bite, 1 bloody face plant, and I delivered half of the 4,120 directory's to individual households around Langford and Colwood.  In the span of that week there were tears (mine) and some harsh words (his and mine), two fiery tempered arguments and some extended silence within the cozy confines of our rented Hyundai Elantra. The air gets heavy in there pretty quick when those tempestuous emotions fill the space. I carry the exchange with me. He expels it.  "No angry...

I tend to overthink a lot of things.  A LOT. Of things. Which is why the unexpected and unplanned are quickly becoming my favourites.  Thing is, you can't plan the unexpected. You just have to be ready to jump in with both feet when the opportunity arises.  Such was the case this past Canada Day long weekend.  B3, who, if you sit next to him at the pub or restaurant, will pepper you with questions and know your life story in 10 minutes flat. He will then introduce you to everyone who walks through the door whether he knows them or not. He's an extrovert with a gift of gab and no thought or opinion remains unsaid when you are around him.  Except when he's being shy and insecure about a person, place, or thing.  He's an enigma for sure. So let's just say, if it hadn't been for me pushing him, ever so gently, to leap onboard this unexpected opportunity, our little weekend - which likely would have been pleas...

Writing takes time. Duh. It means you have to step away from life and just do it.  That, right there, is where it gets difficult.  Full time job, B3, friends, housework, groceries, gardening, socializing, sleep - they all compete for my time. Then there's the muse. It often hits at inopportune times. Like when I'm in that grey area of surrendered consciousness right before I drift off to sleep. Or when I'm racing to pull it all together and get out the door. Oh muse...you are the cheeky little thing. Remember that Robert Munsch book - I Have to Go Pee ? Andrew's mother and father, gramma and grampa take a half hour to bundle him in a snowsuit so he can go outside to play. Ten buckles, 5 zippers and 17 snaps. Andrew threw one snowball before he cried "I HAVE TO GO PEE!"  They quickly pick him up, tearing away the layers and race him to the bathroom because his urgent pronouncement is imminent and can't be denied.  It's the same thing...

I am always amazed at the human spirit and what we can and will do to survive. What we are able to endure. When we feel we can't gasp one more meagre breath into our lungs, we manage to eek out the smallest half gasp which leads to another and another until we are able to fill our lungs. When we think we can't rise again - simply cannot pick ourselves up one more time - this time was surely the last wound our souls can withstand - we steady ourselves and with a mighty keening roar, half desperation  half determination - we pull ourselves upright, back straightened, shoulders back, firmly planting feet and stare back at our adversary. Sorry - this is not the time you will destroy me either.  I'm a little angry at the moment.  I grew up learning to be polite. Respectful. Find the silver lining. Make lemons out of lemonade. See the best in people. I also went to church so I was taught to forgive. Do unto others. Turn the other cheek. Lo...

I'm sitting here listening to Joe Bonamasso on PBS. Again.  B3 and I caught the very end of last nights PBS broadcast with Joe and while the credits rolled he said, "Anton Fig - why do I know that name?" and I replied "Letterman. Paul Schaffer's band. He was the drummer." B3 was impressed. Yeah. I know stuff.   So I was excited when late this afternoon I discovered I could watch the PBS broadcast from the beginning. His music makes me happy. Jazzed. Inspired. THIS is what music should sound like. So while I listen, I'm looking at the seats that are available for his concert in Vancouver in November. And I struck a deal - I pay for the tickets and B3 pays for the travel and accommodation. Yes! While I let his music pour over me, I am also thinking of last Sunday's sermon. On saying YES to God. Saying YES to your calling. Saying YES to your God given gifts. Joe Bonamasso said YES. He opened for B.B. King when he was 12 years old . (Think abou...

There are those days where mentally and emotionally, I am curled up in a fetal ball*. There is no one thing that has precipitated this condition, rather a plethora of niggling, tiny stressors. Well OK – maybe a few of those stressors are rather large but I am usually able to keep those suckers at bay. But from time to time they say “Uh, no! We are important. We need to be acknowledged. Felt. We need some eyeball to eyeball time.”  So I start to curl into that little ball and contemplate. Feel. Acknowledge. Pay those stressors – big and small – some respect. The Boy – the Beau – the Ballcap – calls himself an orphan these days. 20 years ago his dad passed away. This fall, his mother too. And although the McGifford clan had 10 children and he has many cousins, he is not close to any of them. He has an adversarial relationship with his sister, his only sibling. The only moment they’ve ever come together and agreed on anything was outside the hospice room in which their mother was...

I've been a bit of a grumbling, cranky, whining, negative Nelly for...oh...a few months...or so... Hard to say how long really. Awhile. Two reasons. 1. Work. Which is not as psycho. Or just as psycho, but a different psycho. Ever changing psycho-ness. True story... recently I helped a lady get her dog into the morgue to say it's last goodbyes to "daddy", walked away from a man who was unhinged and utterly belligerent about the price of a cookie in our cafe (ever hear of a free market, buddy? Looks like you don't need a cookie either way. Just sayin'), and had an ignorant (and by ignorant I mean stupid and mean) doctor make me cry. I also I smashed my head on a hand sanitizer dispenser (don't ask). 2. Winter. I know I don't get to complain about winter because it never dipped lower than -7 and we didn't get 6 feet of snow. However - we had way too many months of rain, sleet, and grey skies and I wasn't warm one day for a sol...