Whats the story?

My great-uncle (he really was great) made these two boxes. He used them in his workshop. The top one has hinges to hold pages down so they don't get caught when you close the drawers.

Yet, with all the care and precision  that went into the chests, the handles are slapdash. That's not like him at all and I really want to hear that story.

Mental wanderings

My daily writing goal has doubled in the last week.  It's been easy enough to meet - once I stop whining and just sit down to do it.

That sums up my life well.  Cleaning, cooking, shopping, exercise - stop whining and do it.Most the whining is internal, "I don't want to".  That takes up a ridiculous amount of time and energy so I've been focusing on why I like to do things. For the most part, simply meeting my goal provides a great deal of satisfaction.  That motivates me.

It turns out I've lost 30 pounds in the last five or six years.  It still doesn't feel like it. A lot of my clothes are tight but it is gratifying to know that I'm headed in the right direction. I don't weigh myself. That often ends badly - with me dunking cookies in a vat of ice cream. Not really, but the visual is how I perceive it.

I'm downsizing stuff in the house.  Letting stuff go mentally. And allowing myself to appreciate how much more valuable people are to me than things.  I've made the effort every couple of days to interact with friends and family at least three times a week. It requires me to think past my own circle of bull.

I'd rather have a hippopotamus.

Genetic creativity

Last week was my DB's wedding. His third, her second.  The kids were their wedding party.  It was simple, lovely and very sweet.  I acted as one of the photographers.  My camera has a glitch that adds a dark shadowy ghost to some of the shots.  I'm experimenting with making that part of the scene.

My oldest DNi ran around arranging the background/foreground/people as I was shooting away. She wants to be a photographer.

This is one of my shots on which she assisted.

This is one I took without her influence

Today, we picked up some photography books from the library, grabbed my camera and had a lesson on depth of field.  These are two of her shots

Family

Families are the source of my gravest frustrations and deepest pride. They bring me to tears for a wide variety of reasons.  Right now, I'm more emotional than usual so a sink full of dirty dishes can trigger a meltdown, as will a stealth smile from DNe.

The Little girls hugged my knees while the oldest girl brushed my hair.  Some people separated themselves from the family unit, then made me cry harder when they snuck back in as if they'd never said such a thing. Dinner was interrupted for a Sparks meeting while dessert was delayed to pick up the oldest kid.

All the chaos and drama(she splashed me with WATER) induced several headaches. Then hugs (you won a PRIZE ) as if nothing had happened.

No one said sorry. No one acknowledged the harsh words or dented feelings. There was more than one elephant in the room but they were fed, their trunks petted and ears scratched. This is more than an analogy. We have elephant salt and pepper shakers that amuse my mom and the nieces no end.

Earlier in the day, I wanted to run away from home, disavow all knowledge of these people to whom I am related and hide out in mountain cabin writing away my angst.

The reality is I love these people. They scare me, they worry me, confuse and ignore me. Even when we're all in the same room, it's not a Hallmark card. We squabble, bicker and kibbutz. We're also fiercely loyal and protective of each other.

We're all feeling the same stress right now. It's taking its toll but listening to the laughter that was shared around the table, hearing manners being expressed and watching everyone try to hold each other up (literally on the part of the four year old) made me realize - and more importantly,  appreciate - that we're all in this together. As long as we stick together we have a stronger chance of surviving - and enjoying ourselves in the process.

A very good thing indeed.

Mix and match

The last few days have been a whirlwind of activity.  Yesterday, DNi and I went to Ecofest in Welland where she learned all about sustainability. I consider myself fairly eco-conscious but discovered I am more so than I thought. I didn't learn anything new that I could apply to our living arrangements. I did have many wonderful discussions with DNi about how big a difference one person can make. We really enjoyed ourselves.

Once we were home and settled in for the night, we made winter boots out of crocs and sweaters we found at the goodwill.  I would have preferred to use materials we had at home but I rarely wear a sweater. Short sleeves with a wrap or shawl to warm me up when necessary.  We tore through my closet looking for a sweater to massacre, all to no avail. DNi is tickled with her new boots.  I'll get her to take a photo so I can share.

Work was busy today, hectic with a fair amount of problem-solving. There was a very serious complaint about a coworker. I think I was able to diffuse the situation and suggested a fair way to bring it up with the boss.  I truly think it was a case of two people having a rough time simultaneously and one hit a nerve so the other responded in kind. We're all human. Working with the public doesn't mean we're always able to push our own personal triggers aside.  We strive for it but are not always successful.

I've had a good couple of writing days. My critique/writing partners and I are back on a schedule.  I have a game plan for getting the work out into the public.  I've been talking to a friend who studied graphic design about a cover for Casey's story.  He's doing really well and it would be nice if his success could help another dog with its disability.  He was quite insistent yesterday that he needed to be wearing his brace.

The truth is I've been struggling with mood swings. I suspect that the lack of routine and schedule have contributed to improper sleep which results in increased pain in my leg. It's been kicking out a lot. So I get frustrated and irrational because I am in pain and exhausted.  Tonight is an early night and once I get back into the routine, the nerves should settle down.

Still, there were some fantastic moments over the last few days to balance out the ickiness.  I had a drink with a good friend last night. We laughed a lot. I had quality time with my DNi, something we've not managed for a few weeks. Watching her patient interaction with my friend's son lifted my heart.  I am blessed with those who share my blood. Family, not vampires. I don't share blood with vampires or zombies. That would not be fun ick.  I don't quite see the appeal.  But I digress.

I promised a report from the art show.  Look for it under Moniker Gallery. It deserved its own post.

Sis Boom Ra!

Last night was long and less than pleasant. It seemed like everyone was up half the night. 

It was a day with worrisome news and frustrations. Honestly, I've wanted to go back to bed and reboot since before I crawled out of it this morning.

Then the whole family came over for dinner. The Little Ones were entertaining, delightful and really cheered me up.  It's not every day your name is chanted in the living room as soon as you enter the room.  Lots of little girl snuggles, tickles and hair brushing did a lot to make things better.

I've prepped a hearty breakfast casserole for the household, done laundry and showered. Next up, a little quiet time with a good book, while the critters snooze.

Things are going to happen, or not, without any input from me. One way or another, I'll do my best.  I have my own private cheering section.  How lucky am I?

Battle for Queenston Heights

Here's the view from Queenston Heights.  At one time much of the park land was owned by my great-grandfather.  When my dad and uncle were little, they were hiking up the back of Grandpa's property and ran into a Parks Canada guy staking the top of the hill.  It seems the government has never been very good at reading boundary maps.  Grandpa sold the land to the park for a tidy sum that supported two generations right into retirement.  Whenever we walk along there I think of that story.  It's a park rich in Canadian history as well but my thoughts always start with that canny Scot.

Threads of memory

My great-grandmother was a milner. She loved fabric and thread, and was brilliant at creating the most wonderful hats that suited each woman perfectly. Last year's hoopla over the Royal Wedding would have filled her with glee. I'm sure her fingers would have itched to be part of that. I've barely worn a hat since she died when I was in my mid-twenties. She was 105 and sharp as a tack for the first 100 years.

Mumma raised my mother when the latter was a teenager. That's a delicate and difficult age and massive kudos to a woman in her seventies taking on such a task. Fortunately, the two had a lot in common and the tough times were minimal. During that time, Mumma taught my mom to quilt.

Fast forward to my own difficult teenage years. My mom hauled out a box of fabric from her grandmother and taught me how to piece them together. Mumma donated a quilt of butterfly applique that she'd never finished towards my education. It was an Olympic year so we set up the quilting frame in the living room and kept busy while we watched Nadia Comaneci, Bruce Jenner and Canada's own Greg Joy. For the next few years, I sewed, embroidered and quilted through the confusing times.

Then I stopped.

I'm not sure why exactly. I know that's about the time I started knitting. I was older and my interests were more outside of the house. I was busy exploring the world.

Last year, I inherited bolts and bolts and remnants of fabric from my friend and her mother. I recognized some of the scraps from different projects but a lot of it was brand new and never been cut. I knew right then what I would do with it all. Well, as much as I could manage.

Part of the challenge lay in the fact that I'd never learned to use a sewing machine. No matter how often my mom walked me through it, it was something I simply couldn't grasp. All of that material had to be hand-sewn. I recruited a friend to help with some of it. She took half the material to cut and machine sew. I took the other half and stared at it for several months.

Then the Olympic ads started. My mom came home from the hospital and helped me organize the fabric into weights, colours and themes. My goal was to get the project pieced together in time to quilt during the Olympics.

I put it on the hoop the night before the Opening Ceremonies. Every day while I watch Michael Phelps, Gabby Douglas and the Canadian women's soccer team, I quilt. I've been posting the daily progress on my Facebook page which caused my aunt to remind me of my great-grandmother who started it all.

My mom is back in hospital. My friend is gone. My great-grandmother long gone. But the threads they have woven in my life are as strong as the thread that pulls three layers of fabric sturdy and true.