- A perfect summer Saturday,
- Sunlight on water,
- Enough of a breeze,
- Few mosquitoes,
- Home early enough to recharge before bed,
- And to chase the cat around the house;
- She thinks I’m a toy!
- An Introvert’s perfect getaway,
- Love me and let me be me!
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This is my ten dollar quilt. I bought it for ten dollars when I lived In Weyburn, SK over ten years ago. It is starting to fall apart. There is wear and tear and holes I can’t mend.
It appears that it is an easy machine quilting pattern (see second picture).
The center is a plain flower with a white center and two types of petals. The borders are long rectangles sewn together. It is backed in spring grass green.
I bought it because I loved the black and white cow pattern border. I bought it because it was inexpensive and compact. It fits a child’s or twin bed.
I love it because it is light. I can use it in the summer or winter.
I love it because Lulu (my cat) loves it. She will only sit on my lap if I am covered with this blanket. As far as she is concerned, this is her blanket. It stays folded, when not in use, on a shelf in the tv cabinet and she will get all cozy in there for her naps.
I love it because it is full of stories. There is Lulu’s story. There is my story. There is the quilter’s story. There is the story of who the quilt was made for. There is the story of how and why the ten dollar quilt ended up at a second hand store.
There is always story.
I am not here today. I am off chasing stories.
There have been great societies that did not use the wheel, but there have been no societies that did not tell stories. —Ursula K. LeGuin
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity —Gilda Radner
Spring is being creative. All the snow is melting and forming into new shapes and challenges. I face an obstacle course of streams, rivers, and hurdles as I walk. Yesterday, it took me thirty minutes to walk downtown. I can usually do this walk in ten minutes in ideal conditions. The above picture is of the Lake of Four Corners.
I did these doodles when I was in university. I would doodle during lectures because it seems my mind is happiest multi-tasking. There is a Computer Genius and a Mad Scientist – you can see part of a multi-media piece (Frankenstein‘s Guardian Angel) in the background. I don’t doodle much any more. I only trust my art making skills when half my mind is occupied elsewhere!
I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t understand perspective, I didn’t understand shading, and I didn’t have the innate ability that this kid and people like him had. I recall feeling frustrated and sad and eventually giving up.
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to combine two challenges in one post.
Okay, I also give you cute cat pictures.
She keeps me optimistic. She makes me smile. She helps me to stay in the now and remember that all this too will pass.
She is also my future. I became her forever home a year ago when she was just turning two and I vow to be with her for the next fifteen to twenty years. Which means that we both will have to survive long enough to become old! Which means I have new motivation to eat better and exercise more. Which I need because some days I’m not the most motivated person in the room.
My cat is. She’s motivated to take her next nap after she tears around the room and pretends to hide.
“What day is it?”
It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.
My favorite day,” said Pooh.”
― A.A. Milne
“We’ll never survive!”
“Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has.”
– The Princess Bride
I am a faux Redhead. My hair colour is artificial, an imitation, not genuine.
I love red hair. Right now, my hair is mostly red with patches of grey at the part and temples.
I resent the fact that you might think my hair colour is not genuine. I may not have been born with red hair but it does define me.
I’ve wanted red hair since I was a teen. I was born with blonde hair (I am so not a blonde) which slowly evolved into mousy brown. I didn’t call my hair mousy, I called it chestnut brown, – everyone else got my hair colour and personality mixed up. I was a very quiet, unobtrusive slightly skulking mouse of a child.
All the book heroines of my childhood had red hair.
The infamous Canadian Anne.
Pippi Longstocking with her parrot and pirate papa.
Madeline, the smallest of the 12 little girls who went out in two straight lines.
Charles De Lint’s Seven Wild Sisters.
Redheads were feisty and true to themselves. I wanted to be one!
I am not an impossible redhead. I have the pale colouring for it. I do not come across as a faux redhead at first glance. Red hair runs in the family. I have ancestors in Scotland. I have a cousin with natural red hair who won freckle contests in his youth. I have a nephew who goes all out strawberry blonde if he works in the sun too much. Red hair is superfluous on men!
I experimented with red hair for the first time when I was in my early twenties. I was a bridesmaid in my younger brother’s wedding so I decided to colour my hair with henna. Which was a long and messy process that I got done in a hair salon. I have long hair and I read so I don’t mind spending the time getting my hair dyed by someone else. Plus, I hate messy!
Then I got married to a man with an aversion to redheads because one had bullied him as a child. He believed the propaganda that:
redheads were evil, wanton, and hot-tempered. Throughout history, they’ve been subjected to discrimination and fearful prejudice, being viewed as untrustworthy, mischievous, temperamental, and lustful. In ancient Egypt, red hair was seen as so unlucky, red-haired girls were burned alive. According to Greek myths, redheads turn into vampires when they die.
Even before our divorce was final I was back to dying my hair red. I went strawberry red, copper, maroon, and auburn. I’d just find the perfect shade and then I switch hair stylists. I’ve gone through a lot of hair stylists – either they would move or I would.
I discovered I was definitely not a strawberry – that colour was too light and flighty for my personality.
Maroon was too purple. I didn’t want purpley. Maroon was too dark of a red for me. Maroon was too serious. Maroon was yachts and polo shirts and croquet.
Copper was too bright. It sparkled in the sun too much and drew attention to me. I didn’t want attention. Copper was the two guys walking behind me discussing how much fun & trouble I would be in the bedroom. True but I didn’t want that aspect of my life pointed out so rudely in public!
Auburn was just about right. Auburn was me – a reader, a quiet doer, a book heroine just waiting to happen. Auburn with low copper lights is my go to red right now and probably will be until I decide to finally go all out grey.
Which may be soonish. Sometime after I finally get all this long, over-processed hair cut short.
Then I will be grey and I will have to recreate a new me.
Are we who we appear to be?
Are we what we appear to be?
I got up at six am this morning!
I am not a morning person!
My cat, however, figures once the sun is up everybody needs to be up!
She can’t watch bird TV all by herself you know.
I use to be legendary for how long I could sleep in. It would be noon and I would still be abed. It would annoy my mother greatly when teenage me would lie abed and not get up to answer the ringing telephone (when it got to the tenth ring I knew the only person who could be calling was my mother).
I don’t usually get up early. If I’m awake after midnight it’s because I haven’t gone to bed yet. The last time I was awake at four am was because our plane home from Alaska didn’t land until after midnight and by the time the parents were dropped off and we got home it was almost five am and the sun was contemplating rising.
I miss sleeping in, luxuriating half-awake curled up under warm blankets for hours and hours.
I am not an early bird. I will not get the first, freshest worm! (Ugh).
I am, however, learning to enjoy cat naps with the cat. No wonder she is up early as she naps most of the day.
I did not go out today to catch the first light. It was too early. It was too cold. Instead I give you a September Sunset picture and leave you with these words of wisdom.
“Learn from yesterday, live for today, look to tomorrow, rest this afternoon.” ― Charles M. Schulz, Charlie Brown’s Little Book of Wisdom
On weeks like these, ice is easy to imagine. For most of January, so far, the temperature has hovered in the -20s with a wind chill up to the -40s Celsius. I should be use to this.
In December, just before Christmas, I walked home after dark. It was a crisp and clear night with nary a wind. The snow sparkled under the street lights. However, January’s cold is not the sort of cold one wants to be outside in.
I’ve lived here all my life. The cold is familiar. Sometimes the cold is a friend. In Summer, the wind would be an ally blowing away the mugginess of the day. But the wind is no ally today as I sit inside with cold toes. I really should go and put on some socks. All the cat and I want to do is curl up with a blanket and a book.
The only ice we wish to see are ice cubes sparkling in our mixed drinks.
The ice is a mirror. The mirror is ice. I am ice. What is reflected within?
On weeks like these, all I want to drink is water. Ice cold water. I come in from outside and down two six ounce glasses. I sit and read with a glass of water by my side. The cat sit and stares at her water tower yearning for it to blurp. I really should buy her a lava lamp to stare at. I don’t know why this activity fascinates her, I’m just tired of constantly mopping up the floor as she tries to make the blurp and in the process spills water all over the place. I wish she could talk and explain herself.
I have a love/hate relationship with large bodies of water. I find floating on lakes relaxing as long as I am all alone. I never will be a fan of ice fishing though the winter we were young teens my brother and I walked a mile across the frozen lake listening to the groans and creeks anticipating the fear of falling in. We were lucky not to fall in and got major heck when we got back home to the grandparents. News travels faster than teenagers in a small town.
This was the lake in my mother’s parents village. My grandfather ice fished there. It was where we took our swimming lessons for the first time. I was seven and had to be dragged in, kicking and screaming, because I was determined not to go into that noisy body of water.
This was when I feared lakes. I feared lakes because I almost drowned when I was three. I don’t remember almost drowning. This is how the story was told to me. My mom and her friend were on the beach and me and her friend’s son, both of us about three years old, found a raft to explore and nobody noticed us until we were floating in the lake. I’m sure there was panic; my mother is a panic-er. We survived (obviously) but I came away with a fear of lakes and a bad dream.
I have this dream every time I am extremely stressed. I dream of being on a raft (alone) surrounded by water. I am floating through my home town which is flooded. I don’t feel afraid. Mostly, I feel eerily calm. I have not had this dream in a very long time. I was much more stressed in High School than I am now.
I have made my peace with large bodies of water. I float in lakes, take long cruises on oceans and fly over the seas acting mostly calm.
But in my mind large bodies of water are dark and maleficent. What is hidden beneath the calm? What is reflected there?
On weeks like these, I miss the steam we use to create as skin touched skin. He was a water sign (Scorpio) and I am a fire sign (Aries). Water signs tend to bare their souls and enjoy the chance to walk fire. Fire signs are impulsive and prone to boldly charge in.
We steamed up my small university basement apartment whether or not we were stormed in. One memorable weekend the drifts covered the door and we didn’t care. We had shelter. We had food. We had each other.
There was plenty of steam as Fire and Water embraced. Eventually, the fire was doused and the water evaporated away to nothing.
What was hidden in the steam? What was reflected there?
On weeks like these, who you are may change or take on different forms.
Are you solid, liquid or gas?
Are you ice, water or steam?
“Ownership is an entirely human construct.” (p. 26)
High Tide in Tucson: Essays From Now or Never
by Barbara Kingsolver
N.Y.: Harper Collins, 1995
“The end of the world does not impress cats.” (p. 271)
by Sheri S. Tepper
Toronto: Doubleday, 1991
I have for you this weekend a simple post because LIFE has become (once again) overwhelming. Enjoy these pet pictures of my previous pets that were mentioned in last week’s post on Secondhand Cats.
First, he is a very blurry picture of Willie, probably taken with a point & shoot camera. Extreme close-up for the win. I think the photo may have been taken when we were under the bed. He was a very patient cat. 🙂
This next picture was the one I mentioned trying to find last week. It is Willie and Joey on my bed. I can just hear Willie saying to Joey; “Did you wash your face yet, young man?”
The white stuffed cat in the background is a pajama pillow. Yes, I kept my pajamas in it.
The next picture is of Truce, again taken on my bed in my second bedroom.
The room, to me, screams 70s. The colourful pillow was made by eldest sister, there is a jewelry box and radio in the headboard and the pillow to the right is a souvenir pillow I stole from my grandparents. This picture fits right in with Alisha’s weekly travel theme which for this week is colourful.
See you next week for Book Quote Sunday #11.