and the final!!!

phew... i made it. it's not a glorious finish or one that requires applause, but it is certainly a sigh of relief on my part.

i think i needed this forced pen to paper sort of experience... but i think i also have realized that i am truly a pen to paper type of writer. it's the way i've always done it. my thoughts just don't really flow unless i have a pen in my hand. i'm old school.... i suspect that some of you are, too.... :)

so, i won't be blogging anymore unless it's a calling. but i will write. i will buy a brand spankin' new notebook to hide away my deepest and most superficial thoughts. and i'll go back to working on my poetry book... i haven't touched it since my first week in vancouver. it's time.

and i'm going to have my second attempt at knitting. if at first you don't succeed, take a break and do something else... and revisit it when you're ready :)

29

Blogging for 30 days once sounded like fun, but it's become a dull daily task that i feel i must do to appease my perfectionist spirit. so here i go...

what a day. clean, rest, clean, rest, nap, run errands, blog. blow nose. blow nose. cough.

this hasn't been the best of days. but one good thing did happen. i was talking on the phone to my best friend emily who lives in boston, and whose baby i haven't met yet! we were chatting about our plans for the next few months when she mentioned going home for passover... immediately i realized we'd be home in baton rouge at the same time! i love our friendship... these things always seem to happen with us :)

now i'm going to watch "the other boleyn girl"... i'll let  you know what i think of it in my next blog.

day of rest

today was a day of rest. i woke up with what felt like cotton balls in my throat. immediately, i called in sick, took medicine, and went back to bed. when i woke up several hours later, i retreated to the living room where i enjoyed a slow cup of coffee and i folded about 2 weeks worth of laundry.

it was a quiet day. i did go out to run a few quick errands and to take a walk on the seawall. the cool fresh air renewed me, and the walk tired me out enough to head home for a deep and healing nap. 

now i am feeling much better. i still have cotton balls in my throat, but they aren't so overwhelming or exhausting. i'll have another long and restful sleep tonight, and hopefully will be as good as new in just a few days.

i'm glad that i listened to my body. i'm 31 years old, and i might just be finally learning that mind over matter when it comes to illness is really just a load of crap. sleep and rest heal everything.

whatever

i'm tired. i'm really, really tired. and i want to run away. this feeling comes over me every few months... i think i inherited my mom's run-away-from-your-problems way of life. when things were bad at home, we hopped in the car for a day trip to new orleans... i need a day trip to new orleans.

i can remember saturday mornings, waking up, wandering into the living room only to see my mom dressed and ready. she'd surprise us with, "who wants to go to new orleans for the day?" and it was a day. we'd stop off at the esprit outlet, the only store that ever sold clothes that fit me, and head downtown for lunch. then we'd head to the mall, where we'd shop for the rest of the day. at that time, new orleans had all the stores we didn't have in baton rouge. 

after a long, exhausting day, we'd head home. we'd find my dad there, tired from a long day working either in the yard or his shop. and we'd all sit down for dinner and a quiet night of tv.

having moved to canada, i get that running away doesn't eliminate your problems, but it sure does make you forget about them for a moment in time.

they say it's a club

a club for those of us who've lost a parent. it's a strange thing... when i meet someone my own age who has also lost a parent, there is a strange bond. it's like they feel your soul. they known the pain that is knowing you will never see your mom or dad again.

and there's nothing like it. distance is not the same, whether geographical or emotional. a rift is not the same. it is the final separation that makes it something unique. it is the knowledge that a part of you is gone forever and will never return. it is the process of seeing your parent's remains put to rest, whatever that means in your circumstance.

my daddy was cremated. we put him remains in a simple bronze urn--a box really--that he would have liked. and we carried him, my sister and i, to the mausoleum. he was heavy... surprisingly so. we carried him from the church, past the tennis courts in the back, to his own father's grave, with friends and family following close behind. on the way, my sister whispered to me, " Wouldn't it be funny if we swerved around and tried to get everyone to follow? That's something Daddy would have done..." It was like my daddy had whispered the idea on the wind for only us to hear. We kept walking, giggling amidst our tears.

putting the urn in with my grandfather's coffin in the wall of the mausoleum changed me. i'd never seen my grandfather's coffin (they open the wall when adding remains)... he died the year i was born. i liked thinking of my daddy reuniting with his own daddy. i felt like i could leave him there forever.

that was my initiation. it was the combination of tears shed from a place so deep within and learning a new level of pain and loss and facing my own mortality that proved me worthy. so i carry the key. i joined the club. i am a lifetime member.

back to basics

i'm feeling like i want to get back to basics. i want to streamline my needs and wants, and clean up the messiness that surrounds them.

needs

*more sleep

*more varied exercise

*healthier food options

*more time with friends and fam

*focus on goals

wants

*more savings

*more vacations

*more time to enjoy everything

and that's that.

2 AM

i'm sitting here on the sofa at 2 AM. i woke up three hours ahead across the country in ottawa... so it feels more like 5 AM. i haven't done this in a while.

i'm not even sleepy anymore, but my arms are aching (a sure sign that i'm going to pass out any minute now). it was a very, very long day. 

after a long flight from ottawa to calgary, during which i was perpetually elbowed by a man who asked me what "fresh produce" was, i had a short flight to vancouver. when we arrived in vcbc, my bag didn't. until about 45 minutes later when they finally fixed the jam... yes, a jam. 45 minutes to get someone to come out who was qualified to move one bag out of the way. it sucked. but at least my bag made it. 

unfortunately, shaun has to be at work at his usual time... the delay was not so good for him. 

and so now i sit on the sofa writing this blog, waiting for a deep and wonderful sleep to come over me.

Number Twenty-three

Day 23, already? How did that happen? I guess that's the nature of life; it just goes by very quickly.

i don't have much to say. it's not saturday, but i'm writing my saturday blog. honestly, i think the novelty of blogging has worn off... i'm growing weary of forcing myself to share thoughts... i think i'm more of a write when i'm inspired kinda girl. regardless, i do enjoy a challenge, so i will persevere!

ottawa. seriously, how did i end up here? i'm thinking that i could never have predicted the direction my life has turned! it's been quite the adventure, full of laughs and tears, but always surprising.

i guess i'll stick around to see where i end up next!