Christmas: It’s nice, if you like Christmas

I’m not immune to the “spirit” of the season; the collective effervescence one experiences in shopping mall parking lots, shopping mall check-out lines, etc.

I am not a Grinch, nor a Scrooge. I am an Atheist at Christmas. My partner is a skeptic with Christian leanings; lover of Christmas and eggnog. What to do? What to do?

Relationships require compromise and this year I will be the Queen of Compromise.

Part of me has given up the good Atheist fight this time of year. Like the useful life of our dying sun, my “Festive Lighting: How it Contributes to the Western Energy Crisis” diatribe grows shorter and shorter with each passing year.

But please, dear reader, please, don’t feel I’ve been defeated.

A trickle of blood, festive red, will ooze once more from the corner of my mouth as I express my excitement over the decorative snowmen and Santa Claus plastered around the house. Yes, I am going to buy a present or two, eat too many vegetables (bonus: I’m also a vegetarian), and complain about it for days. Then, on December 27^th, I will return to the office and agree with everyone that we’re glad it’s finally over for another year.

Christmas: it’s great, if you are employed in Canada and get two statutory holidays in a row (Christmas Day and Boxing Day). When those two statutory holidays fall on a Thursday and Friday, one could even argue there has been just a little bit of heavenly intervention.

There’s no heaven this year. I’m going to take my Wednesday and Thursday statutory holidays and be the best Queen of Compromise I can be. Happy holidays, everyone!

Tuesday, Mid-morning: What you see. What you get.

My view is one to be envied; my horizon is a rolling, tree laced hill, topped with an expansive, cloudless sky. House tops attract birds of all colours and sizes and though my window doesn’t open, when they perch in nearby trees I can hear their song.

Even the bustle of passing traffic, the sounds of stopping and starting, the varying designs and colours of modern transport entertain--a moving picture across the frame of my windowed wall.

I am lucky to have my little office with a big window facing out into the world. I suppose I couldn’t have picked a better cage.

It’s probably best the window doesn’t open.

From Deck to Table

My house jungle of seedlings has turned into a full grown deck jungle! I meant to start a ground level garden this year, but ended up growing from my back deck and it has turned out better than I could of imagined.

I've already harvested quite a bit of cilantro, butter crunch lettuce (and a variety of other types of lettuce), chives, green onions and green and red basil (yummy pesto). Fresh salads are guaranteed each day in August and the cherry tomatoes are well on their way.

Here are a few pictures of what's happening on the deck and a picture of a very fresh salsa I just made:

Spinach

Butter crunch lettuce

Peas

Some of the Cilantro that survived the cats!

Onion

My first and budding Hot Pepper!

Salsa with many of my fresh garden ingredients!

There is No Cilantro in A Jungle

My tiny home is currently a jungle of seedlings. The prowling miniature lion and tiger (read: cats) and giant, whip-tailed dogs are their enemy. Casualties are mounting. Funeral plans for the green onions and lettuce are in the works and we’ve said good-bye to two purple basil.

At first glance the cilantro may appear to be attempting suicide (daily), sprawled and splattered on the floor, though I’m quite sure further investigation will show attempted murder is the charge. Tiny, dirt paw prints tattoo the floor heading away from the scene . . .

I’ve recently added spinach, beans, cherry tomatoes and sweet basil to the mix. Lion and tiger were perched on the fridge top as I prepared to lay the seeds; they love to supervise the exchange of dirt from bag to pot. Their normal, gentle, purr-pattern echoed with a harsh, moderately melodic grumble as I worked . . .”Welcome to the jungle, baby! You’re gonna die!”

Watercolour Painting Class: The Update

Hai!

So. Ten weeks of watercolour painting classes have come and gone. Luckily I did not quit my day job. I enjoyed the classes, my paint-mates and our teacher, Gerald Vaandering. I’ve not completed any of the work I started in class to date, but I hope to post a few pieces of my attempts soon. If nothing else, I have developed a new appreciation for the watercolour medium. I’m convinced that if Van Gogh’s primary medium were watercolour, bigger body parts might have hit the floor than his ear.

I will practice watercolour painting. I enjoyed it enough to keep trying.

Holiday Math

Here's the "problem":

Partner (P) is very well travelled. Has lived or spent time in over 50 countries.

Me (M). My passport has expired but I have been around.

There are many places left we would both like to visit.

After months of "conversation" ("C") one would think a final destination would be the result (1D).

Here's the equation:

P + M x "C" = 1D

FAIL.

Insert variables for my idea of a holiday destination preference, not so much sun (NSMS) and partner destination preference shit load of sun (SLOS).

New equation:

(P x SLOS) + (M x NSMS) / "C" = Your holiday destination may not exist at this time please try again later.

Holiday math is hard. We're working on it. :)

9 Months, 40 Years, and a Few Days Ago

When do I start feeling my age? How do I measure the passing of my time outside of rotations on axis and revolutions around a bright, gaseous bulb?

The typical body aches more. The aging and unfortunate mind jades. Yes. All of these things and more.

40 years feels like a strong and delicate place at the same time. It feels both central and fringe. I hear a voice in my head telling me to “unpack those statements” to which another voice replies, “no, you’re at work and break is over.”

First voice responds, “Really? You’re a government employee! Does your break ever end?”

“Burn.” Replies voice number two.

Moving on. . .

Is 40 the hub of life? I don’t know.

30 felt pretty central. Even 20 had hubbish hues.

I’ve just banked a solid 20 years of quasi-adult experiences! The memories are the interest. The regrets, (yes, a few) crashes and unfortunate investments from which I hope I have learned.

What have I learned? <insert clichés here>

I might only know what 40 means to me after I have had time to reflect upon it. At 50, perhaps.

Van Gone: Beginners for French Update.

Beginners for French is a bust!  Apparently there are not enough beginners to hold a class this working semester.  Really?  Mon Dieu!

I’m okay.  I’ve moved on.  French is replaceable (e.g. if I take French out of French Fries, I still have fries).  Step off, French.  There will be paint!

I am soon to begin a water colour painting class (for beginners)!  Is this a skill I can really learn?  My skepticism runs deep.  Will painting foster an insanity in me; bring water to a deeply planted seed?  All my appendages are currently intact and I have painted every room in my home.  This has to count for something.

Painting will be my new and more universal language.  My sarcasm will now surface in colour, style and content.  I’ll see a red door and I may just paint it midnight black.  It will all depend on the day now won’t it. . .

All things silly aside, check out the Anna Templeton Centre and see if there is a class in arting or crafting that might appeal to you. J

Do you miss 2012 yet?

I’m not an overly nostalgic girl.  I embrace the new, but can admit to missing a few things.  In 30 seconds, these four items fell off memory lane and onto my page as little things I remember enjoying but haven’t experienced for some time:

1. Video Rental Stores.  I’ve never seen Last of the Mohicans but I bet in 50 years some Kevin Smith type might write a little flick called Last of the Video Hos.  Less violent (perhaps).  Do I thoroughly enjoy access to films through online resources?  Yes.  I still miss finding a gem of a foreign film on the bottom row in the back corner of the video store though.
2. Liner Notes and Cover Art on music albums and CDs.  I’m sure some bands still bother.  I wouldn’t really know as I haven’t bought an album or CD in some time.  Even if you don’t like The Grateful Dead and cannot name one of their songs – I know you know the art.

I loved reading the “thank-you” and “guest musicians” sections inside album and CD inserts.  Imagine the excitement this big Banshee fan experienced as I read the liner notes of a friend’s copy of the Indigio Girls CD Rites of Passage within which a thank you was given to Siouxsie and her Banshees!

3. Phone Cords.  Do I enjoy the freedom of the cordless and cell?  O yes.  But with a hint of nostalgia I remember the attention one had to give the caller on the other line when you were pinned to the end of the sofa whirling the curly cord between your fingers and doodling on the phone book.  (This reminds me that I miss kind, but silly prank phone calls too).
4. Tax Free Loose Candy.  I swear I still remember the day I went to Marie’s Mini Mart with a dollar and asked for 100 penny candy and was told I needed $1.19 to pay for them.  What?!  It had to infuriate the cashiers to no end to have to constantly answer life’s newest and most important question, “I have 60 cents.  How many one-cent candy can I get with that?”

O dear.  Hello 2013! J