sunset dreaming

~sunset~

searing eyes

your light fades in the sky

sets on a weekend

saturated in 

sisterhood

love

and a promise

of more tomorrows

for me, us, and more.

bring on another

roadtrip

Happy Memories

Homework assignment:

Try to recall the day last year when you were happiest. Why then? What were the circumstances? Did it happen because of something you did, or did it just happen? When I asked someone this question the other day they said, "I can't remember the day but I can remember the hour very well. Is that good or pathetic?"

   ~ Jonathan Carroll

Last year...

Is he referring to this past year, 2014, or rather the year before? I suppose I can take licence in answering that, so define it as 2013, as I think of 2014 as this year. Or is it the year past? Hmm... I fear I am dithering though and shall just get on with the task at hand.

I slipped into a new decade

So what did 2013 hold? This is an interesting challenge for my memory. The biggest, most obvious thing must have been my birthday in July. I turned 40, but the date held far less fireworks than I imagined. The number came at me like a bulldozer trying to run me down, but after a few weeks, didn't have the punch I had expected. There were celebrations with friends and family, cake, and a trip to Sunfest with my girls for a taste of international music and arts. But it didn't make my heart stop. And I don't know if it contained my happiest moments to be truthful.

What else happened in 2013? At the time, I was pretty happy to meet my boyfriend's children in August. We had dated for what seemed like plenty long enough, but there were always reasons why we couldn't be introduced. When the date finally came, it was sprung on me at the last minute. I still had time to get nervous as all get-out though. To my delight, they happily liked me. And when I finally got over the fear of being the dreaded "other woman" I had hope that we could be one big happy family. We spent many happy moments together later that summer and fall, catching fish, carving pumpkins, and creating snowforts. The kids all got along better than I could have dreamed. The future looked bright. But as circumstances have since changed, I no longer have much to crow about over those particular memories. They sadly get lost amongst questions and lies.

Well then, where else did joy lie that year? There were plenty of smiles and laughter anytime I got together with my sister and her kids. And if I think about it, I know that my happiest moment was not a when, but with a whom.

2013 Clovermead Bee Beard Competition

Together with my sister, we went to Clovermead to see their annual bee beard competition. We hit the Ontario Science Centre in the spring, and gathered maple syrup, easter eggs and Autumn leaves; all together as a family unit. In those moments I felt most myself and at ease. I didn't have to be anyone else to impress. I wasn't required to be on my best behaviour. I could smile and laugh without fear of reprisals or ill effects. A pure love existed which didn't judge me, nor my actions. It wasn't big and spectacular, but all those moments were filled with the best of me and the best of what I hope to share with the world.

So I cannot say what my happiest moment of 2013 was. In fact, in 2014 I would probably have the same response. The "when" lay in the people whom I had the privilege to be with. My control of it had more to do with the fact that I chose to be with them. My family. My sister. Our love. Unconditional and joyful. And in recognizing that, I give thanks that I am blessed not with one sole happiest moment, but rather a happiest feeling when I am privileged to spend time with those I love most.

What is your happiest moment of the past year?

Medicine Walk

Medicine Walk, by Richard Wagamese, © 2014, McClelland & Stewart

Should I start by saying this book wrecked me? That I bawled through the last twenty pages, apparently having stopped at exactly the right spot last night. Normally I can't put a book down with that few pages to go, but something told me that I couldn't continue last night. So at lunch today fat tears dropped into my soup and scattered across the pages, as a mound of kleenexes piled up.

Not that this book was... what? Chick-lit? Thriller? Romance? It was none of those things. It was literature, and good quality prose at that.

All the way along I felt like this was a book that a man's man would appreciate. The main character is 16-year-old Frank, raised by "the old man". He taught him to fish, hunt, recognize tracks, survive in the bush, and most importantly, the value of hard work. His father on the other hand slips in and out of Frank's life on rare occasion, and those moments are always punctuated by drink. He is a virtual stranger and a miserable, non-communicative one even when he does make rare appearance. The old man serves as the only kin that young Frank has, but that doesn't prevent his thoughts from straying to blood ties.

When the book opens, Frank has been summoned by his father to town. Eldon is sick and dying, his abused liver finally at the point of shutting down. He has a last request for his estranged son - to take him into the woods to bury him in the warrior way. This despite the fact that Eldon has never taken much stock in his native roots. Frank struggles with the request, but ultimately agrees to the task, if only to see if some of the questions that have dogged him his whole life might be answered. What they discover along the way is a broken life lived.

This quiet book looks at life, hope, fear, love and the struggles that are encountered along the way. Wagamese's prose is fuelled by the knowledge that as much as we need to listen to hear life's stories, sometimes those stories need to be told too. Whether we think we have the strength to tell them or not.

leftovers

Breathe

Slow 

that thumping heartbeat

Release 

those squeezed shut fists

Bestill

my raging anger.

Breathe...

let Go

the Child is found 

but,

an unforgiving Look

and Sullen silence

equal Groceries abandoned

at the store today

Let go...

Breathe

let go

and live this mantra...

internal peace op-

timistic understanding

and mother's moments

This too shall pass...

I guess

that's why Moms freeze leftovers -

for this tomorrow...

A Christmas Collage

A Christmas Collage

is what she designs

and yet the picture

is far more refined.

There are photos aplenty,

but that's just the tip

of emotions run rampant

in every single clip.

I see family,

traditions, symbols and more.

I feel love in the spaces

that she carefully stores.

Here is a tree

and there is the hearth.

Stockings lie waiting

and cookies tempt anyone's girth.

Ah, but see all the smiles!

I feel them inside.

My heart swells with the season

and a motherly pride.

This Christmas I am gifted

with a present so pure -

my daughter's sweet innocence

and our love that endures.

The Trip Home

The last of my days in Africa slipped through my fingers. We returned to Cape Town and I managed to sneak in a few more visits here and there. I visited with my cousin Greg, went out to my aunt’s house for a last cup of tea with her and enjoyed a final braai with my uncle’s clan. It was heart-wrenching to let go of the continent, that I felt like I was just beginning to get to know, but it was also time. I had been gone for ten months and my homeland called to me. I longed to see my mother’s face, to feel my sister’s hug and to hear my friend’s excited banter. To know that this new continent that I had come to love would be so far away in a matter of days was bewildering, but acceptance tamed my qualms. It had to.

A phone call arranged a layover in Germany to visit with an old dear friend on my return flight. I would have a week to decompress and adjust to life away from Africa, before winging back to Canadian shores. It all felt so lacklustre, but I tried to muster up a little excitement at the prospect of seeing a long-lost friend and catching up on her life and times. I wondered though, how I would process stepping onto European soil after my earthy African adventures that spanned the southern half of the continent. Europe would be like a different world. Of course Canada would be an adjustment all over again the week later.

For now though, I tried to imprint every image, taste, feel and smell of this land that had gotten under my skin. The concept of leaving was akin to abandoning a homeland that I dearly loved and feared I would never see again. Africa was home to my soul and I ached at the thought of leaving. The fates refused to give me reason to stay though and I begrudgingly packed the last of my things, adding last minute trinkets to my battered backpack to keep Africa close forever.

On August 29^th the last full moon arose to wish me adieu to the continent of my dreams. The following day, I drove to the airport with kin that would forever hold a piece of my heart. With a few strings pulled, I was upgraded to the luxury of Business Class and slid into the ample seat with a sad sigh. A flight attendant materialized with a champagne glass topped off with orange juice and a smile. I peered out the window of the plane, tipped my glass to Table Mountain and let a tear slide down my cheek in farewell. I was going home, but leaving a heart-space behind. All the moments that I had lived in this amazing continent seared into my brain as the jumbo jet lifted off the ground. Just like my first flight, there would be no sleep on the return journey. With aching soul, I left a piece of me behind, but more importantly, took a bigger piece of Africa with me. It would always be, and continues to this day, to be a part of my heart. 

Saturday's Email of the Week: Remember to Breathe

Saturday's Email of the Week

Today I will be going on another road trip. I may have seen my sister last weekend, as well as my mother, but we will all be gathering again to celebrate my sister's upcoming birthday. That is what we do. There will be laughter, dinner and more than likely some cards to be played, long before we crawl into bed for the night. Fun, but nothing especially remarkable. 

I shall be going in early tomorrow though, as my sister and I have a little road trip planned. We will arrive, hug our Mom, wave goodbye to our children, then get back into a vehicle and drive away. We are going to see my Grandmother. She will not be joining us for dinner, even though I will almost drive by her new home on the way to my Mother's. No. Sadly, it is beyond her now. 

Last weekend, my Grandmother moved into a nursing home. She had been living in a retirement home, but was not getting on there anymore. She is pretty much at the point, where she is unable to function in a gathering, such as a family dinner. She is out of touch with current events, cannot remember what is going on in the lives of her grandchildren, let alone her great-grandchildren and pretty much doesn't even care anymore. Not that she doesn't us. I know in my heart that she does, but time has been cruel. 

My grandmother has Dementia. 

It came on gradually. She forgot what she had bought at the grocery store and bought multiple items of it. Food rotted in her fridge. When the fire department had to be called because she left a pot on the stove to boil and forgot about it, we moved her closer to my Mom, so that she would have someone to look out for her. She also moved into a retirement facility, so that she would get better care. Her meals were provided for her, her laundry done and general housekeeping performed. But it was not enough. Her short-term memory doesn't last much more than five minutes and she is getting angry. She is quick to snap at anyone and disagreeable to the nth degree. I can theoretically understand it, as I think I would be defensive and perhaps a little snappish if I couldn't remember things and people kept treating me like a child. That is theory though. In reality, I don't think she even understands what she is doing when she attacks the workers with a vicious tongue. Or when she stares at family with such fight in her eyes that it feels like hate. I struggle with that. I know I should be understanding, but when she vehemently attacks words of truth, turning them into falsities that we all know are fake, my tongue bleeds as I try to prevent words from flying out. 

You know me. Words are my strong point. My Grandmother's anger, the dementia that has turned her into a nasty and negative shell of who she once was, is so hard to deal with. She taught me never to tell a lie. And I learned those lessons well. Now I struggle not to counteract the words that come out of her mouth. I am ashamed to say that I don't always do a very good job of that. 

So tomorrow my sister and I will go to visit my Grandma. I won't take my children, as I don't want to explain her words that sound like lies, but are in truth the warped reality that is the world of dementia. We will lean on each other, as we pay our respects to this woman who was once such a powerful influence on my life. She taught me how to bake and attempted teaching me to knit. I watched her cook, can and smoke anything that she came across and loved those lessons more than anything as I grew up. Now I will offer platitudes and bring up memories of days gone long ago. For the past is the only place where she lives now. I tear up now, but hope that I have the strength not to get dragged into a fight there. I shall just have to remember to breathe. Smile and breathe.

And keep this video that my Mother emailed me in my head. 

Happy Saturday all.

Saturday's Email of the Week: Scars

Saturday's Email of the Week

Saturday has arrived again. I have to say that I am glad to see the week go. There wasn't anything extraordinary about this past week. The week before was rough though and I was riding out the after-effects from it all this week. Do you ever have those moments? Pushing yourself to survive in the middle of a crisis, only to be limp and stumble once you can breathe again? Well, that's me. I can handle crisis. I can be strong and stand up to do what I feel I have to do. Sometimes I might want to hide under a rock or run in the other direction, but I know when I have to face something.

Last week I did.

I put my cat down, then went to a family member's funeral with the girls a few days later. I didn't have to go to the funeral. It was my husband's grandmother, whom I haven't had much of a relationship with since Brad died, but I felt that I should for the kid's sake. Not that they knew her either. And not that they truly cared that she died. I don't say that to be callous, but they are 5 & 6 and not emotionally invested in a relationship that didn't have any flesh and bones to it.  Sad, but true and there is nothing that I can do about that now. What I could do though was take them to the funeral to meet some of their other relatives that are still around. Again, they weren't invested in the experience, but I suspect that some day they will be grateful that I made the effort. Perhaps they will be able to gain a new relationship with some of those family members down the road, that would not have occurred without my intervention. Or not, but I felt like it was my last opportunity to reach out and make that effort, so I grasped a hold of it.

This week, I have suffered for it all. I miss my cat. I dragged up old broken relationships with other members of the kids family, that would seem to be beyond repair forever now. I flogged myself for not being able to fix it all and make it better. But I have to move beyond that. I accept that time has moved on, because I have to, but still feel broken by those failed relationships. It is out of my hands though, so I must let it go. This week I had to process that though and try to shake myself away from feeling bad at kin lost. I have to accept my failings and those of others, and say "it is alright". I have to say and pinch myself until I believe it that "I am alright". Because I am. I cannot bring back a lost kitty, lost grandparents or great-grandparents. But I can accept them, grieve the losses, and be strong enough to let my children see that grief and the resilience that comes with moving on. I have to, because I love them more than anything and they deserve to have a parent that is as stable and imperfect as I can be.

So I guess this week was about healing. It can be an ugly process and I often disparage myself as I move through it. In healing though, once the scar has served its purpose, it falls off to show the fresh new skin underneath. It might be thinner, but it will thicken in time and those scars will be almost invisible to the naked eye. I guess that is what I am gunning for. I have an ugly coat around me, but it will fall off to reveal a beautiful new me underneath. That is the hope anyway.

Peace

Here is my handshake for you.

A Phone Call Home

The day dawned on my first full day in Swakopmund. I was anxious to get in contact with relatives back home, so found a phone as soon as I could. I hadn’t spoken with anyone for over two months, plus had not been very good with my written communication either. All I had sent them was the pictures of me and Nimesh, when I was dressed up in the full regalia of a sari and accoutrements back in Dar es Salaam. For all they knew, the pictures could have been my wedding photos. My Mother had worried about that from the day I left, as that would have matched my father’s tale of leaving home, never to return for having fallen in love on the road. While that was not the case here, they didn’t know that. And as for me, they couldn’t get in touch with me either, as I was constantly on the move.

So now I was eager for their voices and any news to catch up on. I rang through to Canada and joyfully heard my sister’s voice on the other end.  Sadly, my resulting phone call left my spirits far from high.

*****

And as it is Halloween night, that is all you get tonight. Hope you had lots of spooks visit you this evening! Boo!!!!

Saturday's Email of the Week: Keeping it Light

Saturday's Email of the Week

So Saturday has arrived again. I have to say, it has been a crazy week, what with trying to get ready for the long weekend this weekend. Nothing that can't wait until another day, in the grand scheme of things though. I managed to get most everything done that I wanted to before sneaking away for a visit with the grandparents. Right about now, I am hoping to either be sleeping in, or perhaps lounging in Grandpa's boat catching a few rays, if not a few fish for dinner. It sounds like we will have company as well, as my sister shall be descending upon the family gathering as well. Woot, woot!! Happy Canada Day celebrations shall be had!

I hope that you all are having a wonderful weekend as well and that my American friends are enjoying their own long weekend fun in the name of the 4th of July. I will raise a glass of cheer to all of us celebrating our nations! Hip, hip hooray for summertime & the LONG weekend!!

In keeping with the spirit of celebration, I am leaving this light and fun today. Here is a funny video about the joys of exercise and the stairs, plus maybe I will throw in a little joke afterwards as well.

Happy long weekend all!

A BIBLE FOR MOM

Four brothers left home for college, and they became successful doctors and lawyers .

One evening , they chatted after having dinner together. They discussed the Christmas gifts they were able to give their elderly mother who moved to Florida .

The first said, "You know I had a big house built for Mama."

The second said, " And I had a large theatre built in the house."

The third said, "And I had my Mercedes dealer deliver an SL600 to her."

The fourth said, "You know how Mama loved reading the Bible and you know she can't read anymore because she can't see very well. I met this preacher who told me about a parrot that can recite the entire Bible. It took ten preachers almost 8 years to teach him. I had to pledge to contribute $50,000 a year for five years to the church, but it was worth it. Mama only has to name the chapter and verse and the parrot will recite it."

The other brothers were impressed. After the holidays Mom sent out her Thank You notes.

She wrote: " Milton , the house you built is so huge that I live in only one room, but I have to clean the whole house. Thanks anyway."

"Marvin, I am too old to travel. I stay home, I have my groceries delivered, so never use the Mercedes. The thought was good. Thanks."

"Michael, you gave me an expensive theatre with Dolby sound and it can hold 50 people, but all of my friends are dead, I've lost my hearing and I'm nearly blind. I'll never use it. Thank you for the gesture just the same."

"Dearest Melvin, you were the only son to have the
Good sense to give a little thought to your gift. The chicken was delicious. Thank you so much."

Love, Mom

To Uncle's House We Go

To Uncle’s house we go

O’er farmer’s field

past orchards cold

to forgotten arms we flow

Spoiled with treats

perhaps toys

&  gingerbread dreams

-best is kin that greets

Gotta Go!

With 2 birthday parties

on either side of town,

a present to buy

& diner to prep

for friends and family

coming over tonight

the computer is the last place

I should be.

*

but I cannot help

but throw my 160

out there for Monkey Man's

Sunday 160.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving Day;

This weekend, I gave thanks for sunshine and a tantalizing bird tanned to succulent perfection. Family surrounded me and I knew I was blessed with their presence and the moments to appreciate this in good health. We raised glasses of vino, milk and beer, toasting thanks for the life we were offered and the people in it. Faces not able to join us, still live in our hearts, therefore their presence lovingly remains. The table was decorated by a vibrant display of the leaves, milk weed, grasses and pine cones that we collected on a glorious sun-filled walk the day before. My vitamin D intake rocketed back up to fill up my smile bank for the week. Bliss reigned, with the harmonious rhythms of a trickle stream carrying sunshine straight into my heart.

For our feasting, potatoes were beaten flat, as were poor carrots and squash in a separate receptacle. Tender green beans were dipped in boiling broth to break our bread with. We gave thanks for the food received, as penance. Our reward was pumpkin pie baked to brilliance, by my hand (well, mostly my girlies, but with my supervision) and, I must add, liked so much by my niece that she even came over to tell me she loved my pie and politely asked for more. I was floored and honoured by this rare gift of appreciation from her.

"Yes! Have another! Have the whole pie!!" I beamed.

Hugs and kisses and cards filled the night. No gruff words marred the joyous mood and we fell peaceful to slumber that evening. Well, something like that anyway. My brother-in-law and I had toasted over the top a few nights previous, so my sister took her turn to bottoms up a few bottles. Mild-mannered Mother figures by day, often makes for a more colourful vocabulary by night. Nothing a little breakie the next morning couldn't solve though. 

So I give thanks. I give thanks for my loving family, who I can be myself around whether that is embarrassing or not. I give thanks that I can count my family amongst my best of friends, as we truly enjoy spending time with each other (obligation is not our prime motivator). I also give thanks for my other dear friends that I may not have seen this weekend, except for in my mind's eye. The love and support that I receive is pretty special and keeps me going on many a day. My friends in the blog-o-sphere are counted here as well, as the support found in these beautiful circles helps to validate me, my life and my place in the cosmos on another level. Your virtual hugs mean a lot to me, I am not afraid to say. I suppose the other thanks I can count are for a working washing machine, a beautiful new tiled bathroom, a roof that should shield Mother Nature's wrath for many more seasons to come and two cute cats that are thrilled to see us, despite leaving presents  at their displeasure at our mini-vacation. They remind me to give thanks for running water and the opportunity to have clean floors. These are all gifts, big and small. Life is a gift wrapped in multi-layered wraps and for the joys and sorrows and lessons I have been offered, I give thanks...

The Reunion

Heaven Lodge welcomed us back, but our stop the second time was brief. This was just a layover now to regroup before our next leg of the journey. I gladly succumbed to a hot shower to wash away the sweat from our trek through the wilds of Chimanimani National Park. The scalding water could not wash away the memories I held of star-filled nights unblighted by city’s illuminations though. We re-fuelled our bodies and the van, then pointed Arnie North towards Harare and hopefully our lost companion.

With no communication, we had no way of knowing if Brett would be in Harare or not, so we made haste to get there as quickly as we could. Our haste was well met by giant bear-hugs from dear Brettski alive and well to greet us. He told us of his adventures in agony on the bus ride South, the flight to Johannesburg and straight to hospital, and x-rays that suggested that he had probably already passed the stones by the time he arrived. He was smiling and fine, and had been in Harare for 2-3 nights already by the time we got there, we discovered with glee.

We were joyous in our reunion and decided to celebrate. We played tourists and went curio shopping at a local open-air artisan market, where I bought soap stone carvings, a sarong, a crocheted vest and t-shirts for family back home. We splashed out by dressing up for a decadent meal out to Rani’s, an Indian restaurant, where we allowed ourselves to be catered to our every whim. It was fun pretending to be sophisticated, when we normally lived out of a backpack stuffed with six pairs of underwear, two t-shirts, three tank tops, one sweater, one pair of jeans, two long-sleeved shirts, three pairs of shorts, a sarong (newly purchased!), a dress, a skirt, a pair of pajamas and one towel (or something like that). Miki and I even put on makeup for the occasion! We held our forks daintily and discussed the state of the world, glorying in this break from our reality. I followed this up with much deserved phone call home to share my recent travel stories with my family and hear tell all the news from that part of the world. On a roll, I called my family in Cape Town to check in with them as well and see if there was any news from there. I was delighted to hear that I had received some letters and they would be forwarded along to me en route. With my ear aching, but my heart warm, I called it a night. The city had been good to me and friendly Harare was okay in my books.

Away at Mom's for weekend Fun!

Away at Mom's for weekend fun.

~~~

   We have flown the coop to far-away lands for the holidays. Gone on a three-hour tour, not to return until the thrum of traffic lulls to my liking. Well, something like that. We are approximately that far from home to celebrate Canada Day with my Mom and Dad. The kitties will be irked with us being gone, but friends will come to tend to them and the house (I will find distasteful presents placed oh so delicately on my pillow if not) while we frolic in Lake Couchiching and surrounding areas. I hope not to bring too much campfire stench home with me to make you sniff, but excuse me if I do. Hopefully I have remembered to pack my Muskoka dinner jacket with me. Happy Saturday and have a good weekend!

P.S. If that is me, I have had WAY too much to drink this weekend and won't be back tomorrow. OY, VEI!

I Love Your Blog!

 Jingle tagged me in a game and I am game to play along.

10 Things I love:

1. My children (even when they drive me nuts)
2. My Mother for always being there for me and believing in me even when she hasn't always agreed with my choices or decisions
3. My sister for always listening to my sorrows and woes, providing me with a best friend forever and never forgetting that a little bit of fun is the best medicine in life
4. My friends for allowing me the tears that needed to be shed , the time to explain what I needed to pour out of my soul and the wine to wash it down with
5. My garden for giving me much needed meditation, direction and beauty
6. Wellspring - as they provided me with so much emotional support when I was lost and soul-less. The hugs, smiles, soggy shoulders and kleenex helped to keep me here.
7. Yoga for the way it lets the world just wash through me and make it alright. Plus hip-openers are just a beautiful thing. Ohm... ;)
8. Sunshine for putting a smile on my face all the year long
9. Seafood, LOOVVVEEEE any kind, all kinds, YUM!!!!!
10. Poetry and the creative expression that comes with it (check out Jingle's Thursday poetry rally if you are a fan too!) Really, just writing in general. I love my expressions of writing so that I can release what trundles along in my brain. I love these people down here's writing because it makes me laugh, cry and generally smile. Words just fill me up and are generally just great!!!

I am going to tag;

•  Me at Is That a Promise or a Threat?
• Janet at Wherefore Art Thou?
• Suzicate at The Water Witch's Daughter
• Ron at Vent
• Brian at WaystationOne

Whether you play or not, is up to you. I just wanted to say that I like you! Have a fantabulous day!!

It's Christmas time...

I fell into my aunt and uncle’s arms exhausted, as the bus that had tortured my posterior completed its epic 14-hour journey across the country. I was back in Brackenfell, a little worse for wear, but ready to face the rest of my African adventure with gusto. I had conquered the wilds of Botswana and touched on a little corner of Zimbabwe. The impressions were worn into my psyche and I wore them like a badge of honour. I gushed to my kin about the animals I had seen and the adventures I had survived, trying to give the PG-13 version, but with flair. I am sure they saw a very different niece than had left them three weeks previous, but they were happy to see me return with such excitement. They let me prattle on, as was my wont.  When I paused for breath, they announced a surprise for me as well. I had had visitors! My brush with Miki, in what felt like a previous life time, had not been forgotten.  She had arrived in Cape Town herself and had called after me. In fact, upon us arriving back to my aunt and uncle’s house, a note had been stuffed in the door. She had popped by, knowing I was to return that day. She immediately shot up to the top of my list of priority people to call and see, but first bed and a shower called.

The following days seemed to fly by faster than I could process. It was a week before Christmas, but being South of the Equator, felt nothing like the Christmases I knew. Not a speck of snow was visible except in television commercials. I wandered in shorts, when not swimming outside. I visited the Waterfront in Cape Town with a cousin and her friend. We took in the touristy sights to my delight and ended the day by checking out the Christmas lights in Sommerset West. On a subsequent day, a wine tour was enjoyed. With all the renowned wineries in the area, we made a day of it with yet other cousins escorting me along for the fun. And of course, I reconnected with Miki. Just as her South African friend had noted, he lived mere minutes from my home base. We caught up on the adventures the two of us had experienced since seeing each other last and made plans for an evening out.

And with that it was Christmas. The first I had ever been away from my mother and sister. While I could have been melancholy and sad over their presence being missed, I was instead slightly hung over.  Christmas Eve, Miki showed up on my uncle’s doorstep to take me out for a glass of Christmas cheer. She returned me back to his doorstep closer to the 4 AM point and my morning at church was a little painful, but weathered. Christmas day was set poolside at my cousin Marianne and Weppie’s home. We dined on a cold buffet lunch, which was a far cry from the turkey dinners I knew and loved. The heat was not conducive to oven roasted fare though and I knew that while I piled my plate high. My best Christmas present of the day was a treat from my cousin Naude though. He surprised the family by coming down from Johannesburg for Christmas and he brought me some leftover turkey with stuffing from a previous Christmas feast he had attended. It was a very sweet offering and it made my day. We laughed and cheered, ate and swam. I survived my first Christmas without my closest kin, but instead was surrounded by the kin of my father and surrounded by love. It was a very special day, not to be forgotten. 

Date with the past

   I am trying hard not to listen to that practiced little voice in my head. I can hear it. Oh, yes I can. I am trying really hard to not give it substance though. This is the struggle that I have been grappling with for the last little while. Ok, more like long while. Despite making headway with several avenues of my  life, I am sliding back into self-doubt with an imminent date with my past. Sigh, I just cannot be good enough. shit

   Excuse me, I do not like to be vulgar or swear here. That is not what I need to do in my blog. I want to write, grow, be creative and learn with this process. All of these things I have done (I think?). I do not have a huge following by any stretch, but I do have friends that swing by to see what is happening in my world on a regular basis. I love that. I really do. As I have noted recently, I think that this process is bringing me to a more creative forte. I am becoming a better writer, in my eyes anyway. So I truly value this place and the process that is bringing me this worth.

   So what is my problem today? I am meeting up with a relative of my husband's for dinner this evening. We have seen each other pretty infrequently since he passed. We do talk on the computer, probably more than any other of his relatives. She has marginal contact with Brad's parents (their relationship is not quite as strong as it could be, I have been told). There might not be a spot of our conversation that goes beyond the bounds of McDs, but then again there might be. Does it matter? I guess my stewing right now tells me that it does. Damn, why do I let things haunt me? You see my relationship with my husband's kin kind of dissolved not long after he died. It is truly a shame, as I regret my children losing a Father, but also a big chunk of family after the fact. Marginal contact with a few aunts on both of his sides exists, but not the same as on my side of the family. I struggled with these relationships after Brad died and tried to make peace with where things were. And I have. At some point, I may go back and make more amends, but I am not ready yet. Part of that has been my self-worth. I have struggled for me to be good enough for me. I have jockeyed with this in my mind as my status with other people too, but ultimately it comes down to me. Right now, I am feeling better about myself. I am sure sunshine helps that along, but really many more days find smiles.

   Today though my mind twists. I imagine the conversation tonight. "How are you and the girls?" fine "What is new with everyone?" everything and nothing "What are you doing with yourself nowadays?" ack! Whatever answer I concoct, will it be good enough? I stand by truth, but you still present and form it into an acceptable picture for others. STOP! stopstopstop

   Ok, I am going to clean my house (so that I can feel like a better house wife?) and maybe sort through some clothes for my donation pickup on Friday (so altruistic!). I am going to turn on some music, so that I can distract myself. And I am going to let it all go. Thank you for letting me vent. I am sure I will be fine. Back to me another day...

I'll just have a water please

   As the burbles slowed, I looked out into my new world again. My eyes finally adjusted to the strength of the sun. I opened them onto adventure. I was ready. Just one more glass of water. Sip.

   “Now I can stand. Now I can run!” I thought to myself.

   Reality answered, “ Well, maybe jog a little”.

   I still felt weak as a newly hatched bird, but a smile returned to my pasty face. What adventures could I conjure up?

   My first adventure was with food again. I hear you groan, but this time I was gentle with myself. I was about to meet my father’s eldest sister’s side of the family now and they wanted to take me to brunch at the “club”. There were golfers aplenty on this branch of the family tree, so a lovely posh brunch buffet was my fair. Normally I am one of those people with no sense of the true size of my stomach and heap a plate three times over, just to sample all the goodies spread before me. Today, my stomach had shrunk to the size of a dried up cumquat. I took a humble plate with a scant few items, nothing too racy and nothing with a hint of acidity. Good natured teasing and concerned eyes accompanied me as I nibbled away at my offerings. I am happy to report that I kept it together though. No raced trips to the WC (water closet or bathroom for my Canadian readers) to say goodbye to brunch. A crooked smile wavered across my cheeks as I wove tales of home, family and Canada for my aunt, uncle, cousins and second cousins. I was treated to a tour around the golf course with Greg and Richard, second cousins that were the first people I had met close to my own age. My delicate constitution held back the reveries of hanging out with a younger sub-set too terribly much, but we did discuss possibilities of outings. An errant bubble curtailed thoughts of it happening immediately, but I yearned for it in the future. As much as I loved getting to know all the relatives, I was only 22 years old. I craved conversation that held less purpose and more spunk. It was time to gather the backpack and hit the dusty road.

Snow, don't stop us now!

   As the snow blows outside, I keep busy inside tidying. We have visitors coming this afternoon that we have not seen in a while. My sister and niece are going to pay us a visit. Yippee! They are coming down as they heard a little girl had a birthday this past week. They don't want to miss out on all the celebrations, so are coming for the party tomorrow. We are going to descend upon the children's museum for some princesses to show off their royal flare. It shall be a gala affair, to be sure.
   Today though, we have some other activities to put a smile on our faces. Merry Christmas to us, we are going to Disney on Ice. Back when the snow was more welcome, we were given tickets to go see this magical show and the day has arrived. I will have to allow a few extra minutes to brush off the vehicle and probably a few more for slow going roads, but we will be there with smiles on. My girlies are dressed to the nines in their finest princess attire. I have been told that I need to toes the line and must dress the part of princess too. So excuse me my friends, but I must get beautiful. Disney waits for no one...