A New Sound

Peter got me an ipod for Christmas.  I've never had one... an mp3 player or anything.  I used to have a discman with antiskip, but that was about as technologically advanced as I had ever been.  It's pink and little and perfect.  Once upon a time I used to crave music.  It was far more life sustaining than television or really, anything.  It kept me sane and drove with me into the next moment of life because my playlists were my own and for my ears only.  I used to love my long drives.. their necesities in my life were also my escape because my stereo was loud and I could sing along if I wanted or enjoy the comfort of soft sounds.  But now my life is busy.  There are toddlers and husbands and infants that require from me to not have my music loud and alone.  And I'm ok with that, didn't know I had missed it in fact.  Until now.  And somehow, sitting here, plugged in to only me and my choices, I feel like once again I have found me... which is particularly nice since I wasn't really looking or missing.

Joy, sorrow, tears, lamentation, laughter -- to all these music gives voice, but in such a way that we are transported from the world of unrest to a world of peace, and see reality in a new way, as if we were sitting by a mountain lake and contemplating hills and woods and clouds in the tranquil and fathomless water.

Albert Schweitzer

The Arrival

Our newest addition joined us on December the 9th around 4 in the afternoon on a cold and snowy day, weighing in at 6lbs 15oz and overdue.  Her name is Sarah Adelaide and she is named after my great grandmother and has within her small body a serious genetic propensity of being a very strong (willed and other) woman.  She's perfect.  Ava has become a wonderful big sister, unaffected by crying and fuss, happily taking diapers to the garbage can, helping to burp, loving to hold, also part of the same genetic makeup.  We call her Sadie and it suits her... well, it suits me... her father informs me that her name is Sarah.  I smile because that's ok too.

Right now, I'm tired.  Three and four hours of sleep at night can take their toll, but we seem to somehow be managing.  Peter's mom is here and is a wonderful help, but I can't help but wish my kin all lived a little closer... within arm's reach. 

I never knew that my world was missing something.  The something has been found.

I seriously had no idea it had been so long.  Seriously.  And holy shit it's nearly the end of October and here I am thinking that it had been only a couple or three weeks since the end of August.  Interesting how time makes its move and completely sneaks out the backdoor, only to slam it and bring you out of a relverie. 

Finally I am nearing the end of being pregnant.  I'm tired.  Really tired.  Like get this child the fuck out of me and let me sleep for atleast a week preferably ten days kind of tired.  But it's all good... because it has to be... because this kid can't come for atleast another 3 weeks (unless I miraculously get my shit together in the next 4 days... doubtful).  But we are having a little girl... which I have to say I'm quite excited about.  The ultrasound tech said "it looks more like a hamburger than a hotdog"... and frankly I'm still laughing.  Peter doesn't know, nor does facebook, so it's probably best.  She weighs about 4 1/2 lbs and I figure another 4 weeks or so and I'll get to meet her... and her name will be Sarah Adelaide... and we'll probably nickname her Sadie and somehow, somewhere along the way I've become so content with my life that I don't even really have words to describe it other than it's a bit like being in a canoe with a good friend on a familiar river that drifts you along in the sunshine and not once do you feel the need to talk.  Yeah.  That's what it's like.  Satisfaction.

The weather is changing and winter is letting us know it's nearby and that's alright... just means that spring is next.

One's first step in wisdom is to question everything - and one's last is to come to terms with everything.

Georg C. Lichtenberg

I love Stuart Maclean. Love him. And he's coming to Edmonton... on my due date, but he's coming. It's like the kind of love where I actually emailed him and told him that when even the tried and true CBC could not penetrate the Great Canadian Shield of Northern Ontario, whilst driving through one summer with my sister, he was there in a book and on CD and it honestly made it one of the best drives of my entire life.

Funny, I never email people, or join fan clubs (facebook doesn't count) or get all stupid over people. Usually I'm fairly "yeah, I really like him/her/them/it", enjoy them, but end up calling it a day before anything remotely fanatical takes place. But I have to admit that Stuart, The Tragically Hip, and Blue Rodeo stand out. Interestingly, they're all great Canucks.

Anyways, the whole crux of this was that I was trying to pinpoint why they're different to me... figure out why they stand out when others, while I may like/enjoy them, I could take or leave them, or simply be content with hearing them spattered amidst radio playlists, but these three, well, these three required more from me, required a certain amount of passion and dedication. And I figured it out. They were there.

While some people may need cars or clothes or people or whatever, it was these three that met me in those proverbial places. They were there... or they took me there... or hung out with me there.... but never demanded me there. And those particular moments, spent both with people and without, were some of the best I can ever recall. To me, those are what my best memories are made of.

One spring my sister and I drove across Canada. You have to appreciate that this was neither a new nor novel thing for either of us girls to do. We had each made several previous trips before this (and two months later I would do it again with my girlfriend Laura), but there was something very different about this time. My sister and I are similar in some ways, yet very different in others. I used to think we were like oil and water, but now it's more like balsamic vinegar and olive oil... different, will separate, but the mix is divine.... anyways, I didn't know how'd we make out, but we did it. And it was one of the best trips ever. We read to each other (Stuart), listened to the radio (Blue Rodeo), and enjoyed the silence mixed with the hum of the road as we sped across the praries. You appreciated the vastness of our country, its diversity, all the nooks and crannies that held all the secrets, oddballs and hidden gems. If you've never, you should. There is a quiet something to it that leaves a permanent mark... perhaps I am in need of an old CD... a simplicity that is calling.

I finished school... done... it seems to have been so long that I barely know what to do with myself. But I'm sure I'll figure it out.

I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren't certain we knew better. They fight for honor at the first challenge, make love with no moral restraint, and they do not for all their marvelous instincts appear to know about death. Being such wonderfully uncomplicated beings, they need us to do their worrying.

George Bird Evans

Ideally I should be on my way to bed, but suppose I'm dragging my feet. Peter's on the first of 6 night shifts - normally he only does four (then four off, then four days, four off, four nights, over and over and over), but he picked up two overtime shifts (because he knocked me up and we need the money) so he's gone for six... anyways, the point of it all is the simple fact that I don't sleep well on his first night gone. Wow. Longwinded.

Just as the sun rises and sets, I'm going to begin as I always do... where in the world has time gotten to???? It's nearly the middle of August people! AUGUST! Geeze Louise. July was busy with family visiting for three weeks, finished school (did I mention I FINISHED SCHOOL???? Well, one exam left, but they emailed me to see what name I wanted on my diploma!) Funny, seems like life's been on hold for years (five to be exact), and I've dreamt and thought about this day for what seems like ever, and whamo, here it is. And I'm just sitting here looking rather stunned.

Reality says that I'm exhausted, which I am, and I am writing so with a sort of holy shit it's really finished kind of feeling. Shock and awe we shall say. For now to be able to step back and take a breath... wow... what a ... change. To having nothing to procrastinate over... it's hard to wrap my head around. My final course was an Intro to the Novel where I had to read a bunch of stuff (80% of which I will never read again unless I am paid copious amounts of money) and write technical papers on... you know, papers that suck the life out of you with proper prepositional phrases and no comma splices. I was once invited to a writer's symposium with the author David Adams Richards.. a maritimer and good writer (I would read more of his). We had to write a story that would fit on the back of a postcard about the picture on the front of it - begin it, work it through, end it, all on a 5x7 piece of cardboard. Mine was of a woman in a hat/material shop, circa 1800s and grainy... no distinct lines. I don't remember what I wrote, but I do remember that he said that it was my job as the writer to create that picture in the reader's head, to leave nothing to doubt about what I was explaining or expressing to them. I still don't know if I agree with that because to me, writing is about putting it out there and letting the reader sort it out for themselves. If there's something to be had, they'll get it. Perhaps that's why I've never been published. But perhaps that's the same reason I've never tried.

Over time a lot of things get put into perspective - what you like, don't like, couldn't be bothered with, or what you'd decide to lay down your life for. I remember a girlfriend of mine said that she had loved turning 3o, that it was like someone gave her a card and said there you go, you've got your shit together, your decisions are worthy of listening to, you have sound advice. And I've never forgotten it. In fact, I think about it all the time. I think about how the years of my life have sorted me out, defined and challenged me, comforted and consoled. Which brings me to what I've been working through this week.

This past long weekend we were at Big Valley Jamboree in Camrose, Alberta. If you're not familiar with it, it's a huge country/bluegrass/rock kind of weekend that's run for the past 17 years with big names, lotsa booze and decisions that will later (assuredly) be regretted at some point in many concert goers lives down the line. It's a good time, but a wild one for many. What happened this particular weekend was a huge wind storm that toppled the main stage, killing one and injuring several others.

To start was the simple fact that never in my life had I had so little time to react other than in a basic get the hell out of here way. To even think back on it it's an eery feeling to understand what could have happened to us. Thankfully we were all safe and sound. A strange hand of grace was over us.

The woman that died was Donna Moore. She was in her mid 30's and the single mother to two boys, aged 10 and 16 years. She was gone with friends for the weekend. According to reports by Donna's friends, she had received a text message earlier in the day from her oldest son who informed her that he had decided on a career path, and that he wanted to be a youth pastor/worker. Apparently it had been very important to her that her children attend post secondary of some sort. She was said to have been quiet proud and pleased of her oldest boy's choice.

Here's where I struggle. My heart breaks, literally aches for these two kids. Because really, they're kids and far to young to be without a mama. I can't even begin to wrap my head around the devastation and pain that they're going through. Or if' it's even sunken in yet. But the clincher was that it was listed as an "act of God", unexpected and with a devastation never planned for, this act of God took the mother of a child who wanted to be a pastor. So when I think about how time and age has defined me, how life and struggles with good and evil and woohoo and prayer have turned me around upside down and inside out, I wonder how this "act" will define these boys and where they will go and how they will deal with it. And the reality says that only time can tell.

Peter and I had been fighting before we left... slamming doors and being snots kind of fighting where nothing the other did was right. We slept in separate beds that first night, but on Saturday night when the wind had settled and the rain stopped, we were all crammed into this one little one, he, ava, our baby to be and me and all unwilling to let cramped corners pull us apart. We were all safe but needed the safety of each other. The next day we all packed up quietly, used please and thank you, had patience for the other, held hands as we drove home. There was the unspoken "what could have been" and suddenly our perspectives had turned around. And through it all I wonder why is it human nature that dictates disaster to focus on what's important? And then why I haven't known better to do so?

Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.

Anais Nin

It feels early...like 5am early, where the entire world is still asleep except for a select few who either embrace it or are forced into it. Funny though, it's actually a minute before 9... even though the whole house and neighbourhood are quiet except for the train rolling through. Nice.

My mom, sister in law, two nephews (17 and 14 years respectively) have been visiting from the east coast, along with my sister down from the north (Hi, A!). It's been a good visit, although I'm not quite as "present" as I'd like/need to be. Seems like my head is always somewheres... finishing school, working, wondering where money is going to come from... the stuff that never makes you pleasant in the evenings when you're hot and tired on top of it all. But I suppose that's a reasonable place to be considering that really, I haven't slowed down in a long time. And it's time to do so. Funny how that initial braking for me seems to take a lot.

I work tonight until 5 and then my cousin and her five kids are over. I always feel like I should throw in "and they all have the same father!" because she's two years older than me, and well, she has FIVE kids! A quiver full. Her husband's a surveyor and travels the province extensively, so much of the time she is left to her own devices. But in her words - "thank God for minivans!" I love that she takes it all in stride... a lesson I hope to soak in tonight.

The coffee pot has sounded. Time to face reality.

The trick is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same.

Carlos Castaneda

I have promised myself that I would sit down and make time to write for no other reason than it keeps me both grounded and sane. Once again time has passed in a flurry of life - both good and bad, for better or worse, and all the jazz in between. My first year of marriage is complete and I have to pat myself on the back, because really, there were days where I really thought hard about becoming a widow... but we made it! Now only an infinite number to go... but if time is any indication, we'll do it because I want to do it, because I think it's important... not necessarily smart, but important... and I'm a firm believer in sticking to my guns because something usually pretty decent comes out of it in the end.

Ava is almost two. Two years of my life has been infiltrated by this 3 foot ball of energy that has the power to take over the entire room, regardless of how many people are in it. I once thought it was of utmost importance to not let her watch TV and make all her baby food from scratch... or that's what I thought that "mother in me" thought was best. I've now learned that the "me in the mother" appreciates how important it is to show her the world, to keep her safe but to let her eat dirt, get dirty, make decisions, and sometimes just flake out in front of Treehouse. The world is a big place and it has been both wonderful and harsh to me and I have relished every moment. The "me"... the pre-kid, poor decisions, Mistress of Woohoo, 7/10ths sound decision maker, 3/10ths this could be really fun or really bad "me".... wants her to take life and make it her own. To look at it all, touching if necessary, and deciding from there. I want her to think about life and appreciate that it is both big picture and little moments. And we're both getting there. I love her independence, spirit, articulation, and the ability to just go get what she wants with a little extra thought... and the simple fact that every night before she gets plunked in her bed to plan for the next day, she takes me by the hand and says "Way down, mommy, way down". So we lay down and discuss the day and make plans for the next. I am reminded each night that I am a mom, but I am still me. And she is my kid and becoming her own.

As for Peter and I... as I said, we made it through our first year. And it wasn't easy, but we're on the other side. Funny how when I'm myself without pretense, life is better for us both, eh? It's getting better, so that's where my encouragement lies. I'll be finished both my degrees this week.... done school... five years, 2 degrees, $35,000 later... done. We all feel the weight lifted. Five years is a long time to be poor (me) and a long time to be the only provider (him), but we're getting there. Would I board the Marriage Train again? not on your life! But for the one and only shot I'm determined to take at it, I would say that I've picked a good partner for me. He loves all of me, including my overwhelming ability to take over life. I am richly satisfied and my life is beginning to uncomplicate itself in the ways that I really needed it to.

I turned 33 this past April and am expecting baby #2 in December. We don't know what we're having and the excitement is different than what I had anticipated. It's like the week before Christmas where things are wrapped up tightly and no matter how many times you shake it, you just can't figure it out for sure. Ava lifted my shirt the other day, put her eye to my belly button, and said "Baby, where arrrrreee yuuuuuuu?", stood up, pointed to my boobs and said "Baby food", then promptly turned around and stood on her head. For just being 22 months, I figure that's pretty good.

So I guess you could say that I've once again reappreciated that life is about both good and shit decisions and in the whole process of stuff either one can go either way, but in all the ways it's what you make of it all. So in the end it will sort itself out for the best way it's supposed to be.

You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.

Albert Camus