call me ... anytime

If you could call any living person for advice today, who would you call?

today, I would totally call Mr. Donald Trump and ask him career advice, cause if anyone knows how to make some serious coin, it would be him.
I would not, however, ask him advice about my hair.

he would, most likely, be completely overwhelmed by me within the first two minutes of conversation (which would, most likely, be me babbling and repeating the same question in as many different ways as I could come up with in case he didn't "get" it the first time) and I would, most likely, hear: you're fired! 

and that's ok.
it would at least give me something to blog about.

in my field ... which is not always " in left field"

today's prompt poses some difficulty as I do not "work" in only one field.  many would still contest that I do not actually "work" much at all.  a part time just above minimum wage job is, for many, something that doesn't count.  my tutoring, though it pays well, is also something that somehow doesn't make the record as a "real job" on the registry of those who leave the house, drive to a specific building, and sit at a desk for 8 - 9 hours then drive back home.
my educational therapy still requires many sentences of explanation whenever it comes up in conversation so, though that pays well also, I'm not convinced it is completely on the radar either.
well, it is for me.
and I have, seriously, been feeling like I'm having to schedule in time just to breathe in between all the shifts I'm working here, there and everywhere.

so the question of the day took me a few seconds to ponder before I came up with my first answer:

If you could have worked for anyone in history, in your field, who would you choose and why?

I'm not going to get theological, spiritual or even conversational about my choice. I'm just going to accept that, today, it was the first thing that came to my mind and so it must be.  The idea of having an opportunity to witness the inner trappings of a man who could write something so intensely personal yet widely understood intrigues me immensely.  I have not known the grief and sorrow of death like he experienced, but I have certainly had my share of deep sadness, loss and pain in my short life.  I try not to dwell on the individual and varied circumstances too often, but every once in a while, I believe, God sends remembrances lest I forget how strong and powerful and infinitely loving He is. 

and not just to me.

If I could have worked for anyone, it would have been Horatio G. Spafford (1828-1888).  I think it truly would have been good for my soul.

wordless weekend

wordless weekend

not incredibly funny

What's the worst joke you ever heard?

well, it isn't incredibly funny right now, but it will be later ... maybe.

see, I'm about to leave for a concert and I have been dying to wear this new top, so I waited, which is very hard for me to do, and I finally put it on a few minutes ago.
I happily zipped it up, a feat in and of itself, got to the top and voila ...
it happily unzipped from the bottom up

all.by.itself.

MY TOP IS BROKEN!!!

so, maybe that's really the worst punch line.
I'll do my best to make up the funny joke part while I'm driving.

we are family

Who are you closer to, friends or family?

Outside of my immediate family, meaning my parents and my brother, I actually don't see my relatives.  I know my auntie and have met a couple of cousins in Toronto, but because my parents are not from around these here parts (thank you Jesus) I have not met my family.  I have a longing to visit England, Australia and Finland to find them ... maybe one day. 

My husband, on the other hand, has a huge family.  It seriously feels like every time I turn around, there is another aunt, uncle or cousin to meet.  I have no frame of reference for that.  I don't mean to hold myself at a distance, but I also don't know how not to.  It's like saying you are fast friends with everyone you ever attended school with, simply because you were assigned the same classes year after year.  It helps with small talk, but you don't necessarily develop a closeness with those people just because.

but then again, with some you do

Family, to me, is comprised of those friends you meet in life where it feels like no time has passed since the last visit even though it may have been years.  They "get" you when no one else does.  They laugh at just the right phrases, share secret vernacular, and read between the lines when needed. 

Some of my family live in PNG, some in Tennessee, some out west.  Some of my family only live within a few hours and I wish I could see them way more.  One person in particular, whom I met waaaaay back in grade five, thinks that I don't have time for her anymore ... that maybe I've moved on somehow and forgot to let her know.  She's like a sister to me, even though she got the better tan.  It sucks that we live so far apart and that my working so much has taken over the parts of me that used to be available. 
She's like a sister to my husband, too.  I suppose that could be misconstrued ... 'cause, if she's my sister and I'm married to her brother ... I think you know what I'm trying to say here.  Friendships like that don't happen by accident and they aren't erased overnight.  Friends like that make you realize that life is totally worth living for a long, long time.  Friends like that get in your blood and become part of who you really are. 

Family is defined by the heart, not obligation. 
There is family that gets chosen for you, and family you choose.

I don't believe that I give away parts of me that easily, but when I do, it's for life.

a life worth living

What turns you on, excites you, makes life worth living?

first and foremost it's music.  all the way, all the time but not all kinds.  I don't dig experimental jazz or the xylophone.  piano is fine but keyboards are usually too loud for me.  no idea why.  keyboard players seem to be divas.  where woodwind is my least favourite, strings make me purr.  I can never get enough of the drums either, as long as they aren't being pounded on just for the sake of making loud, resonant noise.

second is art.  I love to appreciate it, create it, dream it and purchase it.  I want to be more talented in art.

third and last is language.  the whole kit and caboodle.  I love speaking what little french I know and tok pisin whenever I get a chance.  I love writing and reading but feel like it is taking more and more to impress me these days.  I cannot stand margaret atwood, susanna moodie, janet evanovich or romance fluff.  I cannot get enough of chaim potok, shakespeare, yann martel or steve martin.  I wish I was a for real writer.


as for the rest ... you know who you are.

on my walls

What's on your wall: prints, posters, photos, paintings? What makes you want to hang something up?
For me, it's all about impulse.  If I like it, and I think I have to have it, (and I can afford it), I'll buy it and then figure out where in the world to hang it.  I have also purchased things I probably couldn't afford but knew I also could not live without.  It always works out in the end.

Most of the art in our home is stuff we have made ourselves: 
watercolours, charcoals, acrylics and linoprints, still life, landscapes, figure drawings and ttv photography.
oh, and the odd band poster because music and art go together like gin and good memories.

I really believe that if life had to be lived without art, I would choose to never leave my house.

what not to wear

ok, first please let me preface this post by saying that I am an extremely busy chick, seriously needing to schedule in breathing lately for crying out loud so who has the time to think about wardrobe ... until they are forced to really and truly look at what they decided to leave the house wearing.

wow

today's NaBloPoMo prompt:

Tell us about what you're wearing today. Where'd you get your shoes? How long have you had that tie? Is that your grandmother's watch?

here goes:

fushia and light pink striped cashmere socks, jeans that are just a smidge too short so I kind of cuffed them, bright blue long sleeve tshirt underneath a flecked purple sweater.  my hair is still wet, so it looks like a mop.
two small silver hoops (the sleeper kind) in my right ear, absolutely nothing in my left, my nose ring. watch has been missing part of the strap for three years so I don't know what time it is for the most part.  shoes I got in the states, at shoe dept.  they are felted grey, with buttons up the side.  they sound retarded.  they are not, I promise.  my decision to place all of the above mentioned items on my body simultaneously, however, was.

lemme hear you shout: who's attractive?  boo-yah!


let's just say thank God (literally) there is cake to wash this all down with.

wordless weekend

wordless weekend

And the child that is born on the Sabbath day ...

today's post is difficult because I do not like to talk about myself unless someone is asking me specific questions ... then it's easy, which is why I actually enjoy job interviews.  twisted.

this is going to be boring, but it's all she wrote.

Write the first paragraph of your autobiography.

I was born on a Sunday, November 21, 1971, promptly at lunchtime, in St. Thomas, Ontario, Canada, much to my mother's delighted chagrin (yes, I can use antonyms as parallel descriptive words to present the full picture) because she was in the middle of an exciting part of her novel and did not want to put it down.  Personally, I think that just about sums up my life, but doesn't count as a paragraph, so I need to write some more.

I continue to go to school as it would seem I am one of "those" people, and currently live with my man, my two teenaged boys and two cats.  I also suspect mice but they are not included here.  I used to homeschool but have since switched to bookseller, tutor and educational therapist.  I play the guitar before I go to bed every night.  It keeps me sane.  Plus I heard it makes you smarter.  The jury is still out on that one.

linky love

I like today's prompt:

Link to three posts that you've loved this month written by other people, and tell us why.

1.  borrowing from the library ... and life

not just because the Queen tagged me in the post but because it was so.well.said.  I laughed and cried.  a really good read.

2.  some things never get old

because I know know this most aesthetically pleasing and ginormously gifted woman in for real life and because she will always hold a very dear spot in my heart ... an ageless one.


3.  mystery folders

because I know she will roll her eyes and make some snarky comment when she sees which of her posts I chose to link back to ... and because I read this post when it was first posted (as in "I knew her when ...") and honestly thought to myself ... who is she?  I want to meet her!  and by some inexplicable stroke of pure blessing, I totally did, and she took me in.

stand in the place where you live ...

I think today's prompt is difficult for me since I often ask myself this very question, even outloud:

How did you end up where you're living right now? What factors will help you choose the next place you live?



As usual, for me, a great series of events and choices have led me to the place I currently call "home", some of them good, some not so good.
This is not the place where I grew up.  In fact, the place where I have the majority of my clearest memories doesn't look like it did when I lived there so living here is fine just fine.  I rarely form huge attachments to the places my body finds itself dwelling.  Not sure if that is ok or not ... it just is.

I am pretty sure I've moved 16 times in the last 16 years.  I may have lost count.  I like moving.  I like the challenge and the sense that I get to start over again.  (I think it's much more the latter than the former)  In any case, I'm totally adaptable.

When our time living overseas came to an early end, and Neal's job was still open to him, it just made sense to come back to this little town again.
It isn't my most favourite place on the globe, and I cannot imagine staying here forever, but it's good for now.

I like to travel.
I like change.
I love a lot of people and I want to live closer to many of them.
I would have to move to fulfill those longings, and probably many times over.

I was thinking of that this morning on the drive to work, after last night's concert.   How I love the sound the cello makes.  I love the resonance in the hollow places of my chest.  There isn't anything I can play that re-creates that feeling.

There's a part of me that craves those notes I haven't hit ... yet.

lest this become akward

Who's the most difficult person you've known in your life, and what would you like to tell him or her?

I had a first thought.  This person abused me in a serious way, but I got to tell him exactly what I wanted and needed to say once.  I will never speak to him again.

I had a second thought.  This person left me warped, frustrated, confused and exhausted.  She completely drained me and, consequently, my husband my children and my friends.  It was unhealthy with a capital UN.  Friends would tell me I needed to cut the cords to this relationship but I was hooked and incapacitated.  Finally, one day, my dad put it succinctly enough that I listened.  It was difficult at the time.  I really did love her.  She has been through some horrific things. 

I haven't spoken to her in many years.  I have no plans to take up that yoke again. 

I would tell her that I wish her well but I am not sorry.

I had a third thought.  Is the most difficult person I've known really her, or could it be me?

wow

so i signed up for the NaBloPoMo thing this month but didn't really go to the site before this weekend, so i missed all the cool prompts for posts.
until today.
and it's a doozy ...

Are you spiritual, religious, agnostic, or atheist? Do you think there is one path to God, or many?

i would, first off, like to think that anyone who knows knows me already knows the answer to this question, however, according to the probably fake.lying.trying.to.make.me.feel.special. button on the bottom of my blog, i have readership all over the globe.
those peeps ain't got much on me.

am i spiritual?
i believe i am a spirit dwelling in a body.  kind of like the peanut inside the shell.  my spirit will go and live with my Creator for eternity, after i die.  for now?  stuck with the shell.  could be worse.

am i religious?
hope not.

agnostic?
nope. 

atheist?
that would be tragic.

do you think there is only one path to God?
you better believe it.
Word says if you confess with your mouth that Jesus Christ is Lord and you believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. 
don't mess with that.

way to rock the boat NaBloPoMo!

worldless weekend

wordless weekend

fog day

... except of course there is no longer any fog to be seen.
at first i was disturbed by that, because i had been looking forward to having the house all to my lonesome for six hours, thinking of all the wonderfully girly things i could do sans criticisms from boy-types.
it isn't that i dislike my offspring or hanging out with them.  quite the contrary when you consider my track record over the last almost sixteen years.
this week has just seemed very long and i was craving some silence.
work is never silent
which is fine
except when it's not, if you know what i mean
and i don't feel guilty about wanting some peace and quiet for a few hours at this stage of my life.
not.at.all.
but then, when i couldn't seem to think of anything blogworthy on my own, youngest son comes to my rescue and i am thankful for boys at home and noises and fog days once again.

this one's for tim carmical.  it's some serious dang:

they made me eat my beard

Crystal Castles - Not In Love (feat. Robert Smith)

today was a good day. not really for the hair, but i can let that go.
my poppy only fell off my shirt three times, i found an 'expired' cookie at work to eat (peanut butter even), i got to speak french a bit again and nobody left their meat at the counter.

so i was thinking it didn't need to get any better when THIS lovely fell into my lap.

wowness

wow

let's just say i can totally and completely sympathize with alexander of  terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day fame.

praise God for kitkat bars, cans of alpha getti, cheesies, chicklets and ice cream drumsticks.

oh, and cute beige kittens who want your lap.

bummer

i love that i am so prone to freakouts at times that even my husband doesn't want to tell me yuckky things, lest i combust or something like that.
yesterday he was informed that jamaica is no longer "on" but, rather, quite "off".
indeed
i wanted to find a picture of bob marley with a big red "no" circle and line.
what do you call that?  you know ... the circle with the line drawn through it, on the diagonal, letting you know you are not allowed?
anyway
i'm not so bummed because i have always secretly (or not so secretly even) wanted to go to jamaica.  far from it.  it has honestly not crossed my mind.
neal's grandpa used to go a lot.
some interesting photographs surfaced from some of his trips.
and i hear it's crime-filled
and hot
and there isn't much to purchase
but i've had some experience with that
what bums me out is that it was offered, i got excited at the prospect, and then it was taken away

and i had no say in the matter

serious dang.

in other news, though, kerry fraser was back at the store signing books and today, my friends, MY hair was the winner.

oh yah.

monday, monday

so today was kind of weird, but in a good way.
i don't usually work on mondays, which leaves me feeling all nice and happy come sunday evening, thinking about having the house to myself (i don't count the cats) and a long list of  things i hope to accomplish (always a month's worth).
today i worked because my friend and co-worker is enjoying the sunny beach on the other side of the world and, hey, what are friends for, right?
plus i have that rather empty tattoo fund jar sitting beside my favourite couch.  it was a win/win.

then i got to work
and kerry fraser was there, signing a myriad of books because the store sold out of every copy early yesterday afternoon and the line up was hours long and eventually the store had to close for the day.  he worked his fingers to the bone i am sure, signing for at least four more hours today.
it was fine
i don't mind company at the till.

unless they have better hair than me. 

maybe i should have tried a helmet.

Article

sunday

first snow

i am really trying hard to do the NaMoBloPo thing this year.  if nothing else, it is a reminder.  like a friendly kick in the skirt.

so i backdated.
sue me.

i suck at blogging

i'm just plain too busy to write.  it sucks.  i feel like i have nothing in my head anymore.  i did just finish my second year of educational therapy stuff, though, so it's normal (as normal gets with me anyway).

lately it's been me and work.
and more work
and i added some students to the mix, starting monday.
cause i can't and i won't and i don't stop.
apparently.

and i also believe that my youngest son needs to stop growing.  two days ago, as he stood towering over my suddenly short frame, he said:

mom ... you need to get your roots done.

i want to go put my jammies back on and just play guitar.
why can't i get paid to do that?

music on the brain

sometimes i like to torture myself, going over and over in my mind all the things i wish i made time for but instead replace with easy things like watching gilmore girls on dvd because i never knew the show existed until last year (thanks to K2).
or just forgetting everything else and making a tea instead (and usually letting it get cold, having taken only three or four sips)
or picking up my guitar and deciding that playing music is good for my brain (which it really is) and maybe even better for my brain than the thing i was really supposed to be doing.

this day i did something entirely productive.  i picked up a book that is going to prove that choosing guitar over everything else is incredibly smart.  thanks, brother!

*spoiler warning:  cheesy xylophone music as this webpage loads.  like really cheesy. 

this is your brain on music

wednesday without words

books, meat and other sundries

i almost blogged a while back about the funniest thing that happened at work ... then i realized it was one of those 'you had to be there' posts.
but then it happened again
and that's like fate, right?
if you believe in fate.
which i do not
but ...

picture yourself in an independent bookstore.  music is ok (as long as it's not the glee soundtrack.  enough already) lighting is great.  books abound
obviously
you are shelving books, in the fiction section, kind of in your own world, mostly thinking 'i wonder if i should take this book home tonight and try to squeeze in reading', a little bit forgetting that there are people in the store and you are not alone when suddenly your thoughts are interrupted by a voice calling out:

someone forgot their meat

true story.
twice.

... we are conveniently located next to a butcher.

kind of forgot

but my good friend, the fabricated goddess, reminded me, and I am going to give it the old college try.

you?

NaBloPoMo