More Beans Please

Oooooh. The Winter Solstice has arrived, the darkest day of the year, and from here on in it will only get brighter. The tree bones are prominent, and although there is no snow, there is a wintery feel here. Is it solstice or solstace? My spell checker is saying solstice so I will go with that. I can only recall one Winter Solstice that really stands out. It was about ten years ago. My eldest daughter was two years old, and we were invited to go to "Balanced Life Garden's" which has since changed it's name. It was to be a potluck, and a get together of "earthy" people. At the time, I thought I was earthy, the type of person who enjoys getting together with what I thought were bohemian types. The long flowy skirts (no I don't wear them now), the bellbottoms, heck I have chosen to wear bell bottoms (brown corduroy is the best) since I was fourteen. We arrived at "Balanced Life Garden's" with a bean salad. It was a very good bean salad, I figured the everyone would enjoy the vast assortment of legumes and it would give protein to the masses. I set my salad (along with tongs) on the large table. We were instructed to sit in a circle and "share" our most earthy vibes and "special" (I despise the word special, and use it only if I have to) moments regarding winter. Now, my daughter was in daycare at the time, and had just learned the concept of currency. The couple that we went with had a couple of little kids as well, and they were dressed in their earthy finest, with beads and hemp clothing, meanwhile my daughter was encased probably in a polyester blend. During "circle time", a girl piped up "My favourite time in the winter (now, this has to be noted that the speech of the speaker was very slow and monotonous, airy, and I think she may have had some chemical aid) . . . "My. . .favourite . . .time . . . in the . . .winter is stirring a . . .large . . . .pot . . .of . . .soup . . .on a . ..stove". I forget what my favourite part of winter was, I probably quipped, Spring Solstice, but meanwhile, as the circle "shared", my daughter started having a hissy fit. "Weeeeeee havvve no MONEY! We don't have MONEY". This was an absolute "no no" in the books of the group. . .the dirty looks pierced my husband and I from the circle. I could feel my face going bright red. I almost died. I wanted to get out of there soooooo fast. (Again, I think my left eye was beginning to shut tightly, and I realized, man, I am not like these people, I don't want to be like these people. I am so glad that I did not have the nauxious weed police bust me for overgrown foliage. . .I am so glad that I didn't decide to bury my placenta under a life tree). What was even more funny, was it was supposed to be an open understanding group of individuals, yet they were judging my family because my daughter had learned that we didn't have a lot of loonies, and the fact that my daughter displayed frustration, I didn't reprimand my daughter in a bad way, I only asked her to "shhh honey, we have money, don't worry, here's a nickel". The potluck part was no better, instead of having utensils, everyone was eating with their hands. Including the bean salad, there were other earthy delights there as well, but, it wasn't fricking finger food. (When I go to Ethiopian Restaurants, yes I eat with my left hand, that is permissable, you are in an Ethiopian Restaurant). I think I saw someone eating soy tapioca with their baby finger. Meanwhile, my daughter was still screaming about our financial state (we were on OSAP at the time, just students). (We actually had to take her outside, because she was causing bad vibes). We got the other couple (whom we drove, I think most of the people rode bicycles there, even in the harsh brutal winds and snow), and said we had to leave. The only thing that would calm my daughter down was the tape that we recorded from the record "Father Abraham in Smurfland". It's worse than the Chipmunks. We burnt some rubber in the old 86 Toyota Tercel four wheel drive wagon (well, we tried to), and got home safely, with the remnants of the bean salad, which I promptly threw out, because I didn't know if people were using their hands to scoop it from the bowl (in flu season for goodness sake).

Be My Head

A friend recommended a book to me that I really didn't enjoy. "The Artist's Way", it seemed too new agey for me. Not that I don't like New Age stuff, just some of it bores me to tears, or it is written poorly~~~ "Drawing Down the Moon" for me was a huge flop. I specially ordered it, and was very dissappointed by the writing. I figure if you are going to go to the trouble of writing a book, write it nicely. When I read something like that, I expect it to be life changing, but when it seems like it is written sloppily, I just can't. This was a book I needed for a few essays I did in college regarding Wicca. What I did glean from The Artist's Way was to write two pages per day, or set aside an hour for writing, without worrying about grammar or spelling. Which I really haven't been doing lately, I have tried to perfect the art of procrastination. So, without a topic or an idea, I am just going to write aimlessly from now on. Last night I did have a dream and it was based on the book Ozma of Oz. My mother, had picked up a few of the first edition Oz books at a garage sale for me when I was about eight. In the story (I think it was Ozma) a woman could exchange her heads. She had a room of them and depending on her mood, she could just put a head on that suited her demeanour. Blonde heads, Red Heads, Brunnette Heads, ugly heads, pretty heads. It must be Bub's comment that sparked the dream. I was exchanging my head, but it was a really ugly head that I had decided on. I didn't wake up gasping or flailing like I usually do. Sometimes Adam will catch me sleepwalking or actually standing on the edge of the bed. The worst sleepwalking experience was when rented an apartment in downtown London. I ended up on my front porch, in my skivvies (actually it was a one piece pastel flowered ensemble, that had a back flap with buttons). It must have been break time at Labatt's and there I awoke. Or when I lived in a high-rise I found myself out on the balcony. My daughter's are like that too, they wake up and talk in a very strange language. I have had to hide all the stuff from the medicine cabinet because my eldest daughter walked in her sleep and came to me with a bottle of peroxide, and said she was "thirsty". It brings to mind that really great Flaming Lips Song . . ."Be my head, and I'll be yours". I am getting excited for Christmas. . .today dh is off on shutdown, after work, although sick as a dog, it will be a nice rest. I miss having "shut down" and I still kick myself for quitting. With the sixteen hours that we were away from home, the girls were frazzled. So here I am, missing work, (actually, the action of leaving for work, and going to a place to work outside the home, and the social interaction there). I have a lot of work here with the rentals, today I have to get my handy dandy drill out and fix some of the skirting around the rental, try to find a new lock to install in the mudroom, take Wookie for a jaunt in the woods, and tidy up the house, find the Sister's Fats and maybe give them a brush. Mabel was running around last night, for a fat cat, she sure can be active. Her stomach hits the ground, I know that this is not good, but, I have them on special kibble, yet if I don't feed them when they want it, they scream at me and try to trip me. I also have some books out from the library that may be overdue. . .a travesty. I am really anal when it comes to books being overdue. The funny thing is I can't find them and two of them are on organization. Anytime that I take out books on organization, they get lost. There is also the John Irving book that I haven't touched (The Hotel New Hampshire guy). The doby next door that I have been looking after (visiting), had a doodle and a pee on the floor (next door). Talk about gross, the dog is so big that the turds are the size of my pug or a small chicken. The cat's that the tenant has, knocked over all their t.v. stuff on Sunday, I had no idea how to get it working again, so the animals next door have been without the Shopping Channel for a while. It kept them company. It is a very sunny day outside, I am wondering if I can actuallly cultivate Hens and Chicks inside (no not the feathered ones, I am not that nuts)"Sempervivum". They may look nice. I did manage to snip my baltic ivy that I am trying to grow on the embankment (for lack of a better word) outside my house. If the snow plow and the road salt doesn't kill it, I will be very happy. I am a black thumbed gardener, I try my hardest, but I can't seem to grow a nice garden. I can't see the forest for the trees, I plunk things. Then halfway through the summer, in full knowledge that I shouldn't, I dig things up and move them. Then I forget to water, and things just fry on the south side of the house. My only salvation are my hollyhocks, and I am going to try to start some inside this year. I have some black ones that are absolutely gorgeous, I am in love with the hollyhock, malva, rose of sharon, anything Althea. Now the government is telling me it will be another three weeks for the vendors permit. . .not that I am going to sell my wares at a flea market, (that is just not me). But I would like to have been able to hit some trade shows, the ones where you can buy wholesale, and you need a vendors permit to get in. Oh well, such is life. Fifteen minutes of power typing is enough for now. I have to get trucking.

Response to Comment

My computer has shut down and had irritating fatal errors, so this may be scattered. I think your son is very brave and very noble to be going to Afghanistan, to fight for what he feels is a "good thing". It was not my purpose to minimalize and dismiss his or your ideology. I respect those decisions, as I respect all the soldiers that are over there fighting for the "greater good". Which possibly may seem hypocritical to my blog, but to me it is two separate issues. Albert Camus wrote "The true patriot is one who gives his highest loyalty not to his country as it is but to his own best conceptions of what it can and ought to be." My personal views vis a vis Middle East : I do support the troops over there, but I do think (imho) that the Canadian's role of "peace keepers" have been abused by the US. Unfortunately, the role that they are in, in Afghanistan (imho), is one of cleaning up the unfinished job of the Americans. The initial mission for the US was to find Bin Laden, and bombed the crap out of Afghanistan,~ the idea of helping was ancillary to that. The Taliban shite (human rights issues) have been going on for years, and thank goodness that Canada is there to try to clean it up. I would like to see some other countries giving a bit more help to the Canadians over there (if the job isn't done, it should be done faster). And yes, that is what the Canadian troops are doing, trying to support and nurture basic human rights, but there ought to be more support from other NATO countries. We have approximately 2300 troops over there, and other countries have sent troops, we are in the most dangerous area. Based on population other allies could be sending more. But again, it wasn't until the 9/11 attack that the American's actually seemed to have a huge problem with the lack human rights (not just women's) in Afghanistan. I agree with the good will and the effort that our troops have put in to the Afghanistan mission, but I am saddened every time there is a loss of life. I do not agree with the full head dress of women (reasoning behind it), that they do not have the right to education, or to go out alone, without the company of a brother or a male relative, the list is extensive.. I do not agree with a lot of the treatment of "people" in general. Lines between culture and inherent human rights are tough. There is no black or white, only shades of grey. I still hope that there will be true peace, but one that is not etched out of war, and fighting. Yet a peace that is founded by a deep realization, that although people may differ in beliefs and culture, it is not the dissimilarities, but the commonalities and the interconnections that people ought to focus on. Idealistic, yes, likely, no, but hopeful, yes. And yes, I do enjoy that my head sits on my neck quite firmly, and that I am not in a situation where I have to worry that it may become disengaged from my spinal column. Personal opinions on equality: In my opinion, we are all made of the same "stuff". . . .on the sentient scale, we are all equal, yes, even the Drug Lord down the street. . . . I may not agree in principle with the actions, but as a "person", with the same inherent make up, I would say that yes, because of this he is equal to me, not in action, but in existence. I may not like what he is doing, I may disagree completely with his code of conduct. As a person though, he has inherent rights. I may also bitch about the state of his house, and how I wish that he would get the heck out of town and stop trying to sell my kids drugs, I may despise all the slippery slope conditions that this man brings. I also may call people assholes, but , they are people who just happen to be assholes, not assholes that happen to be people. People in the first sense (cementing the basic right)asshole in the second sense. Would I agree with a group of cannibals, who by cultural upbringing, decided that my baby toe looked delicious, would I give it to them? (No!, Grab your own finger frittata.). Would I agree with what they are doing? No, here is where the formalist view comes in. I think cannibalism is wrong because it doesn't universally support or nurture basic human rights. Let me also say this: I am a die hard Synoptic Agnostic Relativist that can be seen sneaking sips from the Formalists and Contextualist Cups depending on the day, time, idea. I am the first to admit that I am not as up on my politics as I would like to be, native land claims, or sewer and water stuff , or what may be the best cheese in the world either ~gouda is always good. I may at times seem hypocritical, which, conversly I do not feel that it is a bad thing to change your mind if you have the facts, and if you responsibly choose to do so, or if someone nudges you just the right way, because of a very good argument. Hell, it is good to change your mind, that way you are not static. Being static and caught up in dogma is the worst thing in the world to me. And opinions are opinions, just like gourds, everyone has the right to them (lame digression), and I find it fun to discuss, because, you learn a lot more from listening then you do flapping your pie hole. Although, I have been known to do that at nauseum and argue a point that I do not agree with just for the hell of it, or to ruffle some feathers.

Still Crunching Along

Well, the old computer is still crunching along. Thanks Bub :) for all your help, I really appreciated your ideas and comments. I tried them all. . . it took a while, but I think my 'puter is plain old pukey. I like watching that firewall thing do it's job, it is kind of mesmerising. It has taken me approximately 15 minutes to write this. I have posted on another site, and have not been able to respond to a really fantastic comment made by garym about the Hope Bay cottagers (South Bruce Peninsular Site). Very frustrating. My email is up and running smoothly though. I had a very odd day. . . it started with a filling at the dentist's. The smell of a dentist office is enough to put me over the edge, let alone the idea that there is a hole in my mouth that isn't supposed to be there. I wasn't in the most upbeat of moods and when I returned home, very irritable. When I parked "Antonio" (my truck), I saw that Canada Post had delivered a notice to my door. Not the front door, but the side door. This is the door that the dogs go out to do their business. Meanwhile, my front entrance, with all it's seasonal splendor (the foliage that I removed off the spruces, and any evergreen tree that happened to be on my property, or my neighbours (yes I solicited at their home as well~~~"can I steal some of your Yew?"), went unnoticed. My front door looks very welcoming, and you do not have to dodge puppy grenades to get there. Yet the Canada Post Lady went to the grenade entrance. I had forgotten to do Poop Patrol yesterday, and as you can imagine, with three dogs, it wasn't good. I felt horrible. I can just imagine this poor lady doing a jig to evade the grenades. I am going to make a sign. Anyhow, I waited in line at the Canada Post office, supposedly a parcel awaited me. IT WAS HUGE. I signed for it, and took it home. What it was took me completely by surprise. It was an oil painting by my Aunt. I couldn't believe it. A few months ago, I contacted someone regarding a painting, I won't give the details, but it was bought through an auction, they won, I didn't notice that it had been up for auction until the auction ended. I told them of the history of the family, etc. I offered to buy it from them, they agreed, I sent them my particulars, and then nothing was said. Suddenly it appeared in the mail. There was no note inside, so I contacted the person through their email. I asked how much I owed, and thanked them for the surprise parcel. I was shocked by the response I was given, and have not stopped sniffling all day. I have removed names, in case it makes the giver uncomfortable. But this person moved me. . .I am utterly "gobsmacked". . .flabbergasted. . .at this act of kindness and goodwill, and generousity, that I had to share. "Please consider this a Christmas gift with no strings. I mean that. It is a gift to me just knowing that I returned the painting to one of its immediate family members. I hope that you and your family find the kind of joy that we found in having it for a few days (we hung it on our wall while I was waiting to hear of your address) and admiring it. And if you must, repay my gift by saying a prayer for the United States that we may recover our senses and open up dialogues which lead to peace, prosperity, and harmony with other countries of the world rather than war, disease, and pestilence. I hope that you have a very Merry Christmas and a Healthy and Happy New Year!" The painting is hanging in my living room, (the one with walls). Everytime I look at it, it honestly brings tears to my eyes, not because of the painting itself, but because of the action associated with it. I phoned my other family members and asked them what I should do. It is hard to accept a gift like this, but simultaneously, to diminish the message of the gift giver, would (I surveyed this) be in bad taste. It took me at least four hours to write him back, this is how I replied: "I am at a loss for words (and utterly shocked). . . So much so, that I was unable to write you back immediately. Your words and thoughts evoked tears. Your gift, your sentiment, was truly altruistic and completely unexpected. It is, in this, that holds the true message of Christmas. You have genuinely touched me, and those in my family that I have contacted. Yes, I will say many prayers for your country (and all countries involved and their soldiers), and hope that there will be true peace, but one that is not etched out of war, and fighting. Yet a peace that is founded by a deep realization, that although people may differ in beliefs and culture, it is not the dissimilarities, but the commonalities and the interconnections that people ought to focus on. In reading your letter, a quote by Norman Maclean comes to mind: "Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters." What a unforgettable and precious gift you have given me and my family, of both words, and gesture. Thank you, and Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones." It is not my wish to offend the gift giver, if he ever encounters this blog, but I am in awe of the gesture, and the perspective it gave me at this time of year. And that the idea that Christmas transends the "gift",(this is so easy to forget)). It is truly the thought that is important and the message given by the giver. His intentions were unadulterated, and will never be forgotten. Nor will his message regarding the futile state of war that has hung over our heads for the past few years. ~~It's time to come home.

My computer is acting up. For some reason, it takes forever to load web pages. I have highspeed cable (the only highspeed option up here). Yes, I am running Windows 98 se (old school yes, but I am not in the market for a new computer just yet), the spyware thing is running, the antivirus has been running. The only thing I can think of is that possibly some neighbour has been downloading way too much Celine Dion or Waylon Jennings. Honesty, it is almost like I am running a 14.4 modem, on my old Power Mac. I make tea in between checking road conditions, and have even made crepes while waiting for wightman's bulletin board to load. This frustrates me, I am not able to start any auctions (yes, those Otto and Maria Jelinek skates are still up for grabs). Also I will be introducing my own line of mineral cosmetics (in the next few weeks), I have test driven them, and have decided to go retail! If the computer doesn't start behaving, I feel like I will have a hissy fit. The minerals are great, natural sunscreen, good for your pores(it is all natural, no additives, no bismuth, absolutely pure pigment). Unlike the Bare Escentuals that can make some people itch, especially after working out. Nothing harmful, acts like a spa treatment, reduces breakouts, great on any type of skin. . . I also have to think of a good name for the products, and that is driving me nuts because my creative side has gone the way of the Dodo Bird lately, and between the dogs, the shift working husband (I am in the kitchen all the time), the house, the mess, the rentals, the fear of driving in snow, I just feel like I am a shell of a woman, but at least my face will denote radiance, when I when I am stressed out because of the wonderful cosmetics that I am wearing.

My White Tree

Here it is, I let the kids put the baubles up. Wookie has been taking them down.

My Bubble

In my thirty two years of living, I have educated myself. I have learned not to try to kill a bumble bee by spraying windex. Even when it sits on your bathroom light fixture. I have learned that liquids can cause the light bulb to blow up. I have learned not to attempt to remove the bee with tweezers from the filament of the bulb, because you get catapulted through the air and end up lying sprawled in the tub in the starfish position. I have learned that the above mini saga is grammatically incorrect. I have also learned not to throw things at people, because I always hit them in the eye. I have learned that you do not have to like everyone, because not everyone will like you. (I have no idea why the wouldn’t like me, hell I am fantastic, teehee). I have learned that the Chinese Restaurant on the north end of highway 4 in Clinton, has chicken balls so good, your cheeks feel happy. I have learned never again will I buy a 136 year old house because it has potential. I have learned that I must use four wheel drive ALL the time in the winter, not just when my husband says I should, but when I feel it is necessary. I have learned to do doughnuts on purpose today. I have learned that the more I know the more I don’t know. I have learned that before letting my husband go gung ho removing walls, to duct tape his thumbs together and just say no. I have learned that patience is a virtue, but sometimes I don’t feel virtuous, nor do I want to be. I have learned that even though I despised white Christmas trees growing up, man, they sure look swanky. I have learned that the “Electrical Code Simplified”, should have a precursor, the “Electrical Code Simplified Simplified” (what’s up with the guy in the kitchen and the rat on his table?)

Spider Update

I found this pic at http://www.ojibway.ca/spiders.htm , I don't even like searching for spider pics. I hate when the page opens and all you see are legs. I feel faint. Update. This morning, my Boston Terrier was standing up on his hind legs right underneath the ceiling fan in the living room. He never stands. He looked like a man in a tuxedo. He was watching THE spider web down from the centre of the fan. I grabbed the poker from my fire, whapped the web, and was able to squash it with my crocs. What a relief. The eight legged terror is gone, and I will sleep well tonight.

Found the nose dots

I woke up this morning, turned on my light, and thought I saw an extra large black fly drop on the bedside table. No such luck, lying there in front of me was one of those jumping spiders, the same species that you see stuck to your screen door at the height of summer. Although this one was more furry, plain black and quite a bit larger. It was almost cute, if it had been a hamster. The only thing I am terrified of is a spider. I have become more tolerant as I get older, and I am not the kind of girl who, instead of killing them, is so afraid that she puts drinking glasses on them while waiting for her husband to get home from work so he can do the ugly deed of the squish. (Someone told me about a friend who actually did that). No. I just scream like crazy and flail my arms. The only thing that I had to annihilate the spider with, was a tube of moisturizer (kill it with collagen) and a picture of my mother in law (teehee), in the woods near Bayfield Ontario. I was nice, I flipped the picture over, and tried to get it, no avail, started flinging the moisturizer at it, and unfortunately, the fucker got behind my table. I moved the table out, and it had gone. Meanwhile, the kids heard me speaking (more like howling) in tongues. (Clare, you remember that time on the couch. . .I was trying to communicate to you in tongues and wild hand gestures, when you had a spider on your shoulder that looked like it was made out of coat hangers?) Yep, those noises. So anyhow, I went downstairs, and came back up with some wet wipes, not conventional spider killing material, but they work. I thought I saw it (my contacts weren't in), I aimed and went in for the kill. Now, I realize that I MUST have grazed the spider, and hopefully mortally wounded it. Or at least poked the damn thing in one of it's eight eyes, heck it has extras. But I couldn't find any remnants or any evidence of a partial squish on the wet wipe. So, up the stairs comes the Shop Vac, and five hours (yes, a bit fanatical), 43 of my husbands cheapo earplugs (on his bedside table), and two nose dots later, I find myself sans spider. It was too big to just evaporate. I hope it is in the vacuum. But. . .I also know that I have to empty the darn thing. I may have sucked up Adam's uber earplugs that went missing this summer, after he inadvertently tried to burn them. (Adam had some allergies, and had his earplugs along with his tissues in his pocket. . .he threw them into the simmering wood stove, and forgot about them, then realizing what he had done, my father saved the earplugs, and recalibrated (for lack of a better word) them. They had a valve on them. Dad also used the air compressor to blow them out). Adam had received special earplugs from work, that slip right into the ear canal. They are electric blue and look like an old school hearing aid. They are hilarious, and compounded by the fact that his is forced to sleep with his anti bruxism grinding appliance, arm splints and ear plugs, he looks like a real stud. It is possible that these earplugs may be in the vacuum with the spider. I will leave it for him to deal with. Gosh, what a day. I have all 5 of my Vintage Coleman Lanterns, and 7 Coleman stoves on hand, in case of the ice / snow storm that we may have. (My brother says I am "hoarding", but I think he is a tad jealous)~~~("What are you gonna do, try to light up Blyth? Have a cookout with the town when you have a power failure") Too bad I forgot to get fuel. Also, I am trying to heat 2000 square feet with my tempwood airtight downdraft. That is how the spider hitched a ride. . .on the slab wood. I am not even going to spell check or go over this entry until later. I have to search for that spider.