Falling in the General Direction of Up

This blog has been a place where I've chronicled my journey with B3. You were there with me when I first wondered if I was dating or not. You walked with me as I struggled to trust that this relationship wouldn't harm or betray. I know you were all cheering for me.  I want to acknowledge that focusing time and energy on this relationship has cut into my ability to form or maintain other friendships in the way I would like. And I've felt guilty about that. But I also knew that building this relationship was important for many reasons beyond whether B3 and I would make it or not. Nevertheless, I want to apologize to those I've let time slip away from. And thank you for allowing me the space to find my way.  I also know that each of you probably have some expectations around this relationship. I say that because I've been there too: being on the sidelines of someone's relationship and writing the perfect fairytale ending to it and then they inexplicably ch...

I've been quiet lately. In terms of my interactions with humans. Work has consumed way too much space in my brain. It's been emotionally exhausting. Continues to be. And winter... well, if I could be a bear, I would. Find myself a cozy cave to snuggle into and sleep away the grey and the cold and the wind and rain and emerge as the buds and berries are starting to burgeon. Instead, I've been cold since October and am now staring out the window with contempt at the snow. I've been noticeably quiet with my blogging too. There's a lot of drafts sitting there. Thirty eight to be exact. This winter has been a hard one for a lot of reasons so I would start a post, in part, to rant. Then it would die because I was, in fact, just getting something off my chest. And since I'm not Rick Mercer or Rex Murphy , I can't make a career out of my rants, so I simply abandon it until the next one surfaces. My silence has also been indicative of  an identify crisi...

I stepped into Susan's car and she immediately asked me to show her the top of my head. Confused but compliant I bowed my head in her direction. "I was just looking to see if you had an X on the top of your head that said "Shit here" she said. That feels like a pretty succinct summary of the past several months. Both the "shit here" directive as well as the "confused and compliant" response.  I guess it started the first week of October when my employer thought a great way to reward me for the hours and hours of blood, sweat, and tears over the past year was to reduce my pay significantly. It's a long story but the final result was them reinstating my pay, albeit freezing it. The message my employer delivered loud and clear was that my  work and effort was trivial and worthless. The spectre of being so utterly devalued is something I have been unable to shake ever since. I've been showing up at work completely disengaged for t...

I’m feeling a little unsteady. Off kilter. The ‘B’ word has entered my sphere and it’s scared me a little. It could mean the end of something dear to me. A piece of my identity really. And I am now figuring out a way that I can extend grace as long as I can before I have to succumb to the “B” word – and (heaven forbid) the egregious “O” word. Yes – I went to my doctor today and she confirmed it. . . . . . . . I have bunions. Stop. Laughing. If you know me at ALL you know that I’m all about the shoes. And yes, often those shoes are heels. I worked in finance for many years and my uniform was smart professional wear that included heels. For years before that, I wore heels simply so that I wouldn’t have to hem my pants. Being short is time consuming and annoying when all your pants are too long so I mitigated that factor with heels. It’s not like I never wear flats or runners – but for work or a special occasion – I typically wear heels. And, before you get ...

Sometimes, the words have already been written.... Tell Me There's a Heaven "The little girl she said to me What are these things that I can see Each night when I come home from school And mama calls me in for tea Oh every night a baby dies And every night a mama cries What makes those men do what they do To make that person black and blue Grandpa says their happy now They sit with God in paradise With angels' wings and still somehow It makes me feel like ice Tell me there's a heaven Tell me that it's true Tell me there's a reason Why I'm seeing what I do Tell me there's a heaven Where all those people go Tell me they're all happy now Papa tell me that it's so So do I tell her that it's true That there's a place for me and you Where hungry children smile and say We wouldn't have no other way That every painful crack of bones Is a step along the way Every ...

I just got home from the most amazing vacation I've ever had. It was short - 4 days 3 nights - and it was aboard a 34' Hunter sailboat owned and captained by B3's friends, Ed and Sue. We were invited along their little excursion up to Desolation Sound then south to Texada Island. Now - I have to say this - a sailing trip for me would have been epic enough. I love the ocean. I love to sail. I love our coast line. And the little adventure of pulling into port to some of these teeny-tiny communities is delightful (Refuge Cove...I could have visited you longer). We even saw a pod of 3 humpbacks just to our port side, in the distance, travelling north while we travelled south. I had never seen whales in the wild before and declared it the Best. Day. Ever. I took a boat-load of pictures you might say, and if you had talked to me in the early morning hours of day 4 I would have told you my vacation had been excellent. Beautiful. The best. All the superlatives.  Then things go...

Of all the crazy random things I've blogged about thus far, this might be the silliest.  But it's been bugging me all day long.  Remember I wrote that little post about the fashion industry and how their random assignment of sizes are proof this world is six shades of crazy?  Well - I've decided there is still another layer of crazy. The "underworld" of crazy, you might say. And that layer would be women's underwear. Seriously.  OK - so here's the thing. I've been pondering my underwear drawer for a few months now. Every time I do my laundry and fold my underwear I tell myself - it's time to invest in some new undies there Miss Annette. Some are too big for me and just slide down my butt. Some, the elastic has broken free hanging in strands or even winding itself into a snarl - as if it has aspirations to be something greater - like a golf ball or something. I keep telling myself that I still have plenty of good underwear to ch...