Red Shoes

My friend Nancy and I showing off our Red shoes

Some of you may have noticed that I was away yesterday. I apologize, but I had good reason to not pop in here to visit. After dropping my kiddies off in the AM, I ran like mad the rest of the day. "Why?" you ask. Well, I was getting ready to strut my stuff on the runway for the Hope's Garden Celebrate Every Body Fashion Show 2010 – A Red Shoe Event.

The activities started last Friday when I went to a little boutique by the name of Elizabeth Noel to get fitted for a few dresses. I was to dress in casual wear and formal wear and when the prospective models entered the store, we were told to browse around. This is not a store I can say I have shopped in, as the prices were a mite high for me, but there was some pretty stuff. I don't tend to need a lot of formal wear in my wardrobe, so was a bit gob-smacked as to what to wear, but the ladies that worked there got us all fitted and accessorized. The photos are not great, due to lighting, but these were the outfits I got to sashay down the runway in.

Casual Wear

Formal Wear

On Wednesday, I dumped my kids at Nancy's house so that I could go to the dress rehearsal. I walked into the building and my heart started to pound. I have never done any modeling before and for some strange reason, was shocked that the runway was right in the middle of the room with all the tables surrounding it. I was going to have to walk down that narrow strip with lights blazing and all the eyes in the room trained on me. Oh LORD!!! The thought of it made me start to sweat and all the chairs were empty. We got a spiel about how the night would run, were shown the dressing rooms, then gathered into our store groupings for a practice walk down the runway. The children went first and all looked like pros (except my girlfriend from bookclub's daughter who walked zombie-like shuffling to the end). My group was next up and I scrambled up onto stage to stare down the length of the runway. It seemed to stretch forever out into the audience. Our music cued and off the girls went one by one, till I was floating down my first ever catwalk with a  frozen smile plastered to my nervous face. One more lady followed me, then we all swished down the runway once more for our phantom audience to admire. I stepped down off the runway and breathed. There was no turning back now. I could do this. The rest of the models got their turns to practice their moves on the runway and then we headed back out into the evening. We would reconvene the next day for the actual show.

The next day dawned bright and sunny in my world. I kissed my girls goodbye, reminded them that D would be picking them up that evening and made them promise to be good for the babysitter. I would not see them again that day. I snatched a quick coffee, then made my way to the hair studio to get my locks styled. This was the fun part! I arrived at the DeVoG Academy hair salon at 11AM and was shown to the back where a stylist-in-training awaited. Yes, the reason why all the female models could get their hair styled was because a school had offered to do it. All good, I thought. I viewed the rows of gleaming curling irons and hair spray and forced a smile for my friendly, but nervous stylist. I explained that I would be sporting casual wear, as well as formal wear, but more importantly that my hair was fine and thin, and would not hold a style for any length of time without some artificial support. Product was necessary. Hairspray would have to take center stage with me.  An hour later, I had more curls on my head than I had seen since the bad poodle perm way back in primary school. This time it looked cute though. My eyes sparkled as I tossed my bouncy curls this way and that in the mirror. No time to dally now though. A list of errands was on the roster before I could get to the hall for the show.

I could drag this out some more, but I will cut to the chase now. I arrived at the hall and greeted K from book club and her daughter. After consulting with 8-year-old H on which nylons went better with my casual dress, I started to slowly prep for the show. We were fed sandwiches and fruit, but K slipped me a plastic glass with ice and scotch in it to settle the nerves that threatened to fray. Bless you, my dear! It must have helped, as I soon found me dressed and forcing myself to take deep breaths in a dark hallway. I inched forward behind the other women in my group, until the stage hand said "go!" and it was my turn. Around a curtain and the lights exploded in my eyes. I posed, smiled and strutted down the catwalk to "Tonight's Gonna be a Good Night" by the Black Eyed Peas.



And you know what? It was! I strutted, smiled, posed, turned and most importantly did not fall down and hurt myself, the dress or any poor saps in the audience. The intermission saw a bottle of wine circulate in our back dressing room which I got a nip of, although I didn't necessarily need the liquid encouragement any more. Nylons were stripped off, to give full accent to the red shoes I sported against the black of my dress. The second set, I smiled in the hallway waiting for my turn. I was shocked to hear the announcer introduce me (horrible pronouncement of my name, but no matter) and comment on my red shoes. I hadn't even heard a thing first round! I smiled for the photographer and discretely waved at friends in the audience, before getting another quick tour around the runway as a group. We exited out the other side of the stage (where I almost fell down the stairs this time! Caught by all the men waiting to go on next. oops!). After everyone completed their sets, we got one more last wander down the catwalk, before calling it a night. I can now add model to my list of  accomplishments.

And the crazy thing is, I liked it...

The Maytag Repair (Wo)Man

As I rap, clap, tapped on the washer
it just rang, clang, banged back at me.
No foul-mouthed fix,
nor long-sleeved tricks
could charm it back to be.

I push, shove, bumped on the side.
I pull, push, turned on the top.
No water did stream
or so it would seem,
as the lid slipped my fingers and did drop.

My 'driver twist, spin, whirled on the screws
a faceplate lift, wiggle, scraped as I removed
Wires splayed a'plenty
connections tight as any
so what have I done proved?

Not certified, authorized nor qualified
To identify, evaluate, nor repair.
Take away my tool-belt
before I leave a big welt
on confidence that reigns on false airs.

Green Thumb Journey

I have been getting my hands dirty the last couple of weeks. Many bushes have been trimmed, including the forsythia, dogwood, cedar hedge and lilac tree. I have planted tomato plants, pickling cucumbers (seen right), eggplant and relocated sunflowers that self-seeded from last year. Last weekend, I even dug out a whole pile of sod and created a new garden bed. The corner was hard to get at with the lawn mower and I seem to always be behind in edging, so this solved an issue for me. Plus, I am always keen on beautifying my space. Must divide, relocate and flourish! Yes, I am crazy (I think my problem is that I cannot bear to let anything go). Time on my hands? Not overly, but I seem to have a problem; a gardening addiction. I am willing to carry that cross.

So here is the newest garden patch.

Doesn't look like much yet,

but when the black-eyed susans,

lady's mantle and sedge grass settle in

with sunflowers towering in behind

it will be a pretty space.

Here is another project that I undertook a few weeks back. There was a sad holly bush, little more than a few twigs really, that got relocated last fall. It survived the transplant, but was getting buried by grass and weeds. I cut out a quarter-circle and added some heuchuras for comfort. Now it is a simple little space to welcome people at the driveway's edge.

Yesterday, I even struck further afield and went by the girls daycare. They have a patch of garden there that is plenty green, but mostly weed. I did some gardening there last year, that was muchly appreciated. With a barbeque coming up tomorrow, a request was put forth last week for my ministrations again. I gladly got in and got dirty digging out weeds and moving stuff around.  I was not able to totally bring it up to (my definition of) a beautiful flourishing space, but I did add some irises from my house and offered pointers to potential gardeners in residence there. Maybe I am weird, but I really love to see the difference I can make just be giving a little TLC where needed. As I have mentioned before, it is almost like a meditation, but it certainly brings me in touch with Mother Earth. Always a good thing in my books.

   I have not spent all my time in the garden though. We have had so much rain that the ground has been literally soggy at points. They are calling for more rain tonight, so gardening tomorrow will probably be cancelled again. The worst part about that (or probably a blessing) is that I am stuck inside. That usually creates enough of a guilt factor that I end up cleaning. AGHHHHH! Now that project is a never-ending, soul-sucking, task that seems to lack any glory or praise-worthiness. It still needs to be done though. So I will admire my beauties from water-washed windows as I brush dust-bunnies away from their hiding spaces.Somehow it just doesn't feel the same...

Cutting Grass

   Rain patters outside my window. I hustled, but the grass got trimmed, although not edged. I get so many odd looks when I toodle around on my riding mower. Don't know if people think I am brave to ride such a thing or crazy to have one without the acreage to go with it. The kids think it is great though and it saves me a little time, which is a precious thing. To be fair it was a gift to my late husband, from his co-workers. They knew he had mobility issues in his last days and our old mower was giving up the ghost on us. They did a pass the hat at work and showed up one evening with it in the back of a trailer. He was shocked, embarrassed and pleased as punch all at the same time. He thought that they were coming by to take our older mower and have its deck re-welded. That eventually did get done as well, but the riding mower was a heart-felt gift that gives me great joy.

   Thunder rumbles. Good thing I got done fast! The first time I tried to use the riding lawn mower was a sight to see. Hmm. I was almost in tears. While I have had some lessons in standard vehicles, that was not enough for me to wrap my head around making this piece of equipment go on that day. I put the key in the ignition and turned it, with no response. I read all the stickered instructions plastered all over the place at my feet and tried again. This time I pushed the clutch peddle in and turned the key. I got a rumble, but still could not get it to fire. I tried again, and again. I re-read the instructions and looked at all the levers and handles. I felt small and powerless, as I struggled with making this machine come to life. I wanted so badly to take control of my life and accomplish something all by myself. I got angry. I got teary. I got nothing more than a puff of smoke and noise. Just when I wanted to burst into tears and kick the object that was reeking havoc on my life and brittle self-esteem a voice said,

   "Hello Kathy."

   I looked up. Normally I don't go by Kathy (always been a Katherine), so I knew it was not someone I knew well. My elderly  neighbour was ambling across the road. He had been watching me attempting to get the mower going and saw that I was loosing the battle. He is a kindly man in his eighties that had lost his wife a few years back. Now he lived alone, but still gets around. I noticed he was out trimming his bushes, as I cut my grass this morning. Hugs to you Larry! Anyway, that day Larry made a little small talk.

   "It looks like you are having a little trouble there," he said.

    I hung my head and admitted my incompetence. The man is so sweet and I think his kindness that day came from a compassion born of our kinship. He knew grief and could see it all over me. My problem was the mower, but the bigger problem was learning how to live again without the appendage that was my spouse.  Brad had always cut the grass previously with our riding mower. I was well-versed in a push mower, but had nothing to fall back on to help me in this new task at hand. There was no one I could turn to in my house to ask for help or to hand the task over  to. You see, my tears were not over the fact that I could not get the mower to work. My tears were another manifestation of loss and grief. I was alone. I wanted to be able to function, but at every turn realized that a piece of my life, a piece of me was gone. The mower was a reminder and at that moment in time, I could not go it alone. I needed help, but did not know how to ask or even who to ask. Truly, I did not want to have to  ask for help. I felt like I required help every step of the way and it just seemed to beat me down. On that day, a guardian angel appeared in the form of my 85 year-old neighbor and he gave me the help I needed graciously. 

    Now I feel the windows are not full of rain, but clouded by tears with this memory. I have had so many beautiful people step into my life at moments of need. Sometimes they step in for a moment, like Larry did. Other times they have held my hand for days, weeks and months. Still others will walk with me for the years that I call a lifetime. I do not know why I thought of this today, other than that I had to cut the grass. Most days I am pretty stable and happy with life. I managed to winterize the mower myself this past winter. I cut the grass whenever it needs without a bat of an eye. I know that I will be hit by moments of grief on occasion and that will continue for a long time to come. Always I will have that experience of loss there. The sorrow that goes with it lessens over time. This I have been told and know from my own experiences. Today, I remember as I watch the rain. Hopefully I will let it go this afternoon, as I breathe and lay my head on the yoga mat. Namaste. 

Love Me

   Thank you, thank you for all the encouraging words my lovies! Some days I just go, go, go and feel energized by the productivity. I crossed a few other things off my (mental) list since writing last. NO, I am not totally mental, thank you very much! Again, thanks for the support! Oh, that's my right brain teasing me. Oops.  Maybe you are as well, but I digress. My other activities were not near so exciting as the list that rolled onto the floor and out the door yesterday. Check mark on making eye appointments for myself and both the girls (first time for my littlest baby!) and picking up eye solution, so that I do not have to peel my contacts from my eyes next week with tongs. I hear you say "Oh glamorous!" and ignore you. For those of you who have been bugging me (mostly my brain again. It is my biggest critic) I finally got my knee looked at. An unexpected opening, so zapped with the old radiation and wait to see if anything comes of it. The rest of the day will find me sifting laundry perhaps (the life of a house wife doesn't get any better! Really!!) and hopefully writing. Probably better stuff than this blog post. I can put on a happy face though and pat me on the back for my little accomplishments. A few phone calls finally made. It is the little things that count. Some days I do not remember this or believe this. I try to remind myself of a comment my Uncle made to my Aunt of three young children many years ago when she was stressed out and upset at the end of the day.

  "Did the kid's eat today? Did they have fun and laugh at all? Did you all survive to the end of the day? If so, it was a good day."

  

   Don't beat yourself up for what you didn't do. Applaud yourself for making it to the end of the day. The sun is still shining (even if there are clouds in front of it) and your heart is still beating. Someone out there loves you (maybe me!). Maybe it should be you!