Monday, May 27, 2013

AFP, Angelina, and my Garden

First of all, I haven't been here as much as I would have liked to be lately. It's been a little chaotic and a bit of a stressful downer, life outside this little space of mine. But, that was then and this is now.

Yesterday, something really amazing happened on Twitter. And in some small way, I'd like to think that I was a part of it. And that's the beauty of Amanda Fucking Palmer. And while I'm not all that familiar with her music (aside from The Bed Song, I'm Not The Killing Type, and this amazingly cute little YouTube video she's done with husband Neil and puppets on sticks) , her Twitter feed and blog are just really amazing places of compassion, humanity, support and fucking love.

She said yesterday that she was sad, and posted a blog about the UPs and downs. It was like she sparked a Twitterevolution - people and fans came out of the woodwork, confessing their own UPs and downs. Everything from the difficulties in college, the passing of loved ones, health issues, success, and one Twitterite left a touching tribute to her Grandmother for AFP. Internet, I tell you ... it was beautiful.

How often do we go through life putting on a brave face, thinking that to "fit in" we have to be impervious to the UPs and downs of life. It's almost as if we feel sometimes that to admit to being anything less than perfect is to admit defeat. Do we sometimes think that we can't let anyone know that "Hey world. Today, I feel sad. Be gentle with me." But when we confess that we're sad, that at the present moment the world is treating us a little roughly, the Universe provides - even if it is a faceless mass of people in the Twitterverse who are feeling exactly We all share our joys. When the Universe and the world conspire to reward us with moments of happiness, we're basically on rooftops shouting it out and sharing our joy. But on the flip side, we stay indoors, close the windows and draw the blinds to keep the prying eyes of the world at large at bay from seeing us at anything less than our best. But just look at what happens when we (however meekly, however scared) open the door to just let in one friendly face and just ... talk.

That's what Amanda Palmer taught me yesterday. We're all human. We all love. We all struggle. We are never alone. Hold hands and we'll all go UP together.

Something else happened yesterday. And while I'm not really one to report on the doings and happenings of the celebrity lifestyle, something caught my eye. The Huffington Post and this article came across my Twitter feed yesterday. For years, I have always been a fan of Angelina Jolie. First of all, the woman is beautiful. Secondly, she's made some pretty decent movies. Thirdly, she's a UN Ambassador and makes regular trips to Sudan and the Congo, listening to the stories of the women and girls there. I think she's pretty kick ass. She's Brad Pitts partner and they have a beautiful family - the fact that there are adopted children as part of that family strikes a special cord with me and I can't help but feel grateful. Anyway, after reading that article yesterday, I saw Angelina Jolie on the cover of People magazine, and inside there was an article about her decision to have a double mastectomy in an attempt to lower her risk of developing breast cancer.

Not only do I think this was a good decision for obvious health reasons (although, it seems that she is still at risk to develop ovarian cancer, which makes me sad) but I firmly believe that the fact that she's talking about it is huge. Young girls and women everywhere need a role model like this. Despite the loss of her breasts, Jolie says that she doesn't feel any less of a woman. And why should she? What is it we have done to teach our kids (boys and girls alike) that boobies will be the determining factor of a woman's degree of femininity? Speaking as a woman, I can tell you that I love my boobs. I think that they're kind of fantastic. And while I would be more than a little sad at the loss of them, I don't think that they're the only thing about me that makes me a woman or feminine. I like the usual girlie things like dresses and high heeled shoes and dancing and parties and puppies and babies and all of the other things as a culture that we have ascribed to GIRLS. Jolie is speaking out, drawing the gaping maw of the ever consuming pop culture machine to the real and important issue of breast cancer. And while I don't think breast cancer is making as much noise as it should, especially when you have celebrities such as Jolie, Sharon Osbourne, Christina Applegate, and Olivia Newton-John (to name a few) have added their voice to the need for awareness, research, and medical attention, I can't help but feel that we're all sometimes a little more concerned with Jennifer Aniston or Kim Kardashian and their baby news. Don't get me wrong, I feel happy for them in a "oh, that's a nice fairy tale" sort of way but I have such mad respect for Jolie. I was reading the article in People magazine last night and was a little teary eyed by the end of it. Not only did she elect for this surgery and take a stand for her own femininity, but she kept up her work and grueling schedule as a UN Ambassador and balanced her life with her family as well. And while you may say that it's easier to do all that when you have insane amounts of money, several nannies on speed dial and yadda yadda yadda ... it doesn't change the fact that it's probably just as hard for her as any regular woman or family. To say that something like this is "easier" because the individual happens to be famous, understates their struggle I think, and just how difficult this decision must have been for her. I think she must have been scared shitless - given the fact that she lost her mother to ovarian cancer several years ago. I don't know about anyone else, but I can pretty much guarantee you that I'd be shitting bricks. To undergo surgery and radiation and come out the other side healthy, happy and healing only to face the hard truth that you are still at risk to develop ovarian cancer ... I'm sorry. That's a hard fact to face no matter who you are.

So good for you, AJ. I hope her message of courage reaches more people.

And, in other news I've pretty much successfully killed everything in my garden. The only thing that really managed to survive over the past few weeks has been my little garlic experiment.

Just look at that little bugger, growing like nobody's business. And that pathetic looking little thing in the pot next to it ... well, that's my cilantro which I'm pretty sure I've killed quite thoroughly. It's one of only a very small handful of seedlings to be left (somewhat) surviving. 

My cucumber seedlings are quite dead. They never survived being left out in the cold. But, I am not deterred! I still have some seeds left, and I'm going to start them over again. I'm determined to grow something, gosh darn it!

This is all that remains of my bell peppers. I did have more, but I forgot to water them and they succumbed to malnutrition. I've always known that gardening hasn't been my forte. If I can manage to kill several cacti (I shit you not) then I sometimes wonder what hope this poor little buggers have. Hopefully, this time I will be kinder to them.

So, to make myself feel better I picked up this little beauty at Wal Mart's Garden Center yesterday.

She's one of the few plants to have survived believe it or not. Spring is very slow showing her fact this year. We've had frost warnings for like a week now. But this pretty pink beauty was the best looking one I saw there, and I had to take her home. Maybe her presence will give my other plants some hope and courage. I also bought plant food too, but it seems like it's designed especially for flowers ... not my veggies. Still. I might stick some in with my poor little cilantro stalk - just to see what happens. If I kill it, I still have more seedlings! I'm not being malicious, I swear!

Now, because it looks gorgeous outside (and hopefully warm) I think I'll put them all outside for a wee spell. I think I've rambled on quite enough for one day.


Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Love Is Louder Than Fear

I had originally intended to write about something completely different today, until a short clip about a documentary came across my path, thanks to my cousin's Facebook page.

It's about two people, from the States who met, fell in love and just really wanted to be together. Only, they can't be. One of these poor souls dies, leaving the other alone. Tragically, this person is not only NOT permitted to the attend the funeral of the loved one, but is also denied access to information regarding the circumstances surrounding the death of the loved one. Friends of the couple are shocked at this. No doubt, most of us would be. Why should our partners be denied anything under the law? This couple was deeply in love, and committed to each other for 6 years. They had a house together, and even owned their own business.

But the outrage at the legal deniability that this couple wasn't officially recognized seems to be sort of ridiculous, doesn't it? Well, quite simply ... it SHOULD be something that we recognize as ridiculous. The whole issue is that because these two people, Tom and Steve, are gay and under state law in the United States, despite being together for 6 years, the law reduced their life together, their relationship, their status as individuals as pathetically understated "roommates."

The short clip is only ten minutes long, and by the end I was close to tears. Steve has found his voice, and began to lobby for change. EqualLoveEqualRights sprang forth from his devastating loss, and his journey has been turned in to a documentary called Bridegroom.

To say that life as heterosexuals isn't a life of privilege is an undeniable lie. Of course it's privileged. Dev and I are technically considered common-law (we meet the requirements, but we haven't actually filed for common-law status with the government). We are each other's beneficiaries if something were to happen to us. Simply because I am a woman, and he is a man we can rest easy knowing that under the law and Canadian government we are free to love one another. Thankfully, I am happy to say that my country has legally recognized gay marriage since 2005 - only one of four countries on the planet to do so. Britain voted today and recognizes equal marriage rights. Two more states in the US have also approved gay marriage over the last several months, bringing the grand total to 12. The State of California, where Tom and Steve lived, only recognizes gay marriage on a conditional basis, thanks to Propsition 8.

What sort of commentary is it on our current society that who we love as individuals is a problem? We have discriminated against each other because of the color of our skin, what social class we fall under, our sex, our country of origin, our chosen religion and place of worship, and now ... now we have to contend with being discriminated against because of who we love.

Love is beautiful. Love is powerful. Love heals us, makes us who we are as individuals, and makes us better human beings. Perhaps the sort of discrimination is the result of people not getting enough love. Love has never hurt any body. Love of another human being helps define who you are and how you relate to the world. Love engenders respect - not only of yourself, but respect of another individual. But because Steve loved Tom, they were insignificant under the law. Their life together was diminished and oversimplified and categorized in to one single word.


These two people were in love. They made each other laugh. They mattered to one another. To friends and family.

Near the end of his video clip, struggling against tears, Steve says that he has found his voice, but isn't sure if anyone will listen. But if he doesn't talk, then nobody will be able to hear.

We have each been given a voice. One voice can bring about so much change. Bob Marley used his voice and message of love to help end political strife between opposing leaders in his country. Love is powerful. Love is the most powerful element of our being, and we should not, can not, and will not just stand here and witness as others try to silence a voice and spread messages of fear and hate. We should rejoice that the queer community is fighting. The are soldiers of love and equality, and really ... isn't that the best reason to go to war? To fight for love? Nobody anywhere should be able to dictate who we love, or deny us the right to love them. You can toss Scripture around in defense of heterosexuality, or stand in protest at a queer individuals funeral, or rush to defend the "sanctity" of the heterosexual institution of marriage.

Go right ahead. I won't stop. You're entitled to you're opinion.

But all that you succeed in doing, is showing the world that underneath your bravado and empassioned speeches raging against marriage equality, is that you're scared of love. Of loving. Of being loved.

A friend of mine from University recently lost a former partner of hers to health issues. There was a memorial service for her, where she taught. And though I had never met this woman ... she was important to my friend. They had loved each other. Fiercely, from what I gather. There was a notice being circulated on Facebook about her memorial service, and I shared it. I thought it was right to do so. This woman had shared her love with my friend. Love had touched her life, and remembering the love that we had for someone, remembering how we feel when we bask in that love ... that is something you memorialize.

Bridegroom is Steve's memorial to Tom. It is a message of love. And while I haven't seen the documentary myself yet, I will.

"I dreamed of one day marrying the love of my life, Tom Bridegroom, but he tragically died in an accident before it was legally possible. It's too late for us, but it's not too late for America to live up to its symbol of freedom and to say 'I do' to marriage equality. There is no freedom until we are all equal."

Monday, May 20, 2013

Domestic Bliss Part II

Today has been wonderful. It's a holiday week end, thanks to Victoria Day and it has been such a lazy, wonderful, silly day and full of laughter and smiles.

Really, the amazing sense of happiness that I feel right now started last night during a marathon run of NUMBERS. We both ended up sleeping on the couch last night. This happened as a result of a few things. First of all, all the laundry that we did yesterday, was piled high on the bed. My ambition was, to take it all off the bed before bedtime and relocate it to the couch to be tackled this morning. But, when 12.30am rolled around, I was at this point simply too comfy, too tired, and too lazy to do that. It seemed like it required a superhuman amount of effort. Secondly, did I mention that I was comfortable on the couch? Dev was stretched out on the chaise part of our sectional. His pillow and blanket requirements met, he didn't really see the point of moving. Plus, there was all that laundry. And I ... I was stretched out on the other section of our couch, and my own requirements for blanket and pillow were so expertly met that I fell dead asleep with the television blasting and the living room lamp left on. Although, being snuggled under an Eddie Bauer down filled throw ... I dare you to not to fall asleep.

No, go ahead. Just try. I'll wait here.

So, there we were. Nestled and snuggled on the couch almost like little caterpillars. Except, when morning came we didn't turn in to butterflies. Although, if the dreams I had last night were any indication of what they should have brought, I should missing my left eyeball (which was transformed by some thick, black gucky contact lens. I pulled it out of my socket gazed at it - after feeling it up with my own tongue-  and realized that it had elongated and grown a pair of scarlet red wings and a set of eyelashes to die for. I tried to give it to Norman Reedus as a pet, during our internment in some Star Trek-esq training facility.) and the world should more closely resemble the set of War of the Worlds. But, thankfully I am still the proud owner of two (relatively) perfect eyeballs, and I am not sunken in to a futuristic, post-apocalyptic world and forced to run laps around the boundaries of some pseudomilitary compound beyond which lies terrible dangers - not the least of which are zombies.

In that light, the fact that I have been overdosing on Disney music all day shouldn't come as much of a shock. I was taken back to the high lights of childhood as I belted out Hakuna Matata, Under The Sea, I Wanna Be Like You, Cruella DeVile, Heigh-Ho, Once Upon A Dream and a handful of others. Add to this merriment, the fact that Dev would try to come dance with me - his silly and exaggerated attempts to waltz and grope at the same time literally had me falling down laughing - and that my girlfriend Dee and I were texting each other as Timone and Pumba when Hakuna Matata came on, AND that my brother-in-law made me laugh so hard when he answered Dev's call that I began to cry ... I have spent the entire day laughing.

We woke up with coffee and I was immediately struck by the desire to watch Despicable Me. Dev hadn't seen it prior to today and we both curled up yet again on the couch under blankets and coffee mugs in hand and spent the next hour and a half giggling. Some parts we had to watch twice.

IT'S SO FLUFFY!!!!!!!!!

Sunday, May 19, 2013

The Scene Right Now

Right now, life is pretty damn good.

I'm relaxing on the couch, and the TV is kind of really just on for back ground noise. NUMBERS is on. We've watched all the episodes, but it's such an intelligent show that watching a re-run is still fairly enjoyable. The cast is great, the cases are always interesting and the mathematical solutions they utilize are just really effin' cool.  It kinda makes math interesting - even though I am a terrible tragedy when it comes to trying to do anything beyond basic calculations. Although, if memory serves, I was pretty good at algebra and geometry.

My scene of domestic bliss is enhanced by the fact that despite a sink full of dirty dishes, a room full of dirty laundry, and a window of struggling plants, Dev is in the kitchen cooking us supper. The house smells divine. Frying onions. Pork chops. Thai chili peppers. And soon, there will be stuffed peppers to eat. He has such a weird talent when it comes to cooking. He can just throw random ingredients together and make something so delicious, that doesn't even make sense.

We've just finished grocery shopping, and there's just something so satisfying  of looking in the fridge and the cupboards and looking at the goodies. Of all the Seven Deadly Sins, I think Gluttony just might be my favorite. Although, Sloth can be pretty amazing too. A good day clad in pajamas is pretty amazing. Speaking of pajamas, it's exactly what I'm wearing. My favorite pair of Campus Crew sweats and tee shirt, with a white zip up sweater from EddieBauer's First Ascent line. And leopard print slippers. I am a hot.mess. right now.

You know, this female agent they have in this show is amazing! She's tough, she's confident ... she's got moxy. I wish there were more female characters in popular media like her. All too often, the only role model we give young girls is some pretty, under fed and over privileged white girl. Either that, or she's so over-sexed and relying on good looks to get her through life wielding her own feminine charms to manipulate others to get what she wants. This show also boasts another smart woman. And, what I really love ... is that these two women are what I guess you would call "minorities" within pop culture. How often do we see a strong African American female? Or a ridiculously smart East Indian? This show is so amazing. Good for them for their casting choices.

And, here he is. My very own handsome East Indian. He's in his own pair of sweats, and a tee shirt that I bought him. He's so amazing. Sure, we've had our moments and butted heads but I look at him every day and am just amazed that I get to call this man mine. It was a real shitty day yesterday. I had this huge conversation with my Mom and she told me about all these really terrible and stressful things that her and my Dad are having to deal with. So, I came home and just sat here on the couch and told him about what was going on. I even cried a little, and he just came closer to me and we snuggled. He kissed me, held me and told me everything was going to be okay. It was the best I had felt all week.

And he killed a spider for me today.  He's my hero.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

My Love/Hate Relationship With Bread

Today was a terrible day for food choices.

Not that I made a lot of them.

Just one, really.


Lots and lots of delicious bread.

This morning I picked up a 12-grain bagel, toasted with butter from Tim Hortons. Then, later on I had a slice of whole bread with cheese whiz. After work I ate a chicken thigh with peas and corn. Supper time was some veggies - broccoli, cauliflower, red pepper, celery, and little cherry tomatoes with a little salt and ranch salad dressing followed by a tiny slice of pizza.

I feel like I have spent most of my day eating bread. Delicious and tasty warm bread.

Somewhere in the midst of all this eating bread - well, eating in general - I went to the gym for an hour. Just some cardio, nothing major. I don't know where my motivation has gone and I'm coming down really hard on myself because of it, which generally means I've been feeling like shit the last couple of days.

Maybe I just need to set clearer goals for myself. Pull up my pants and fucking commit to something instead of half-assing it like I have been. Ugh.

I need help. Maybe obsessing over it like I am is only making it worse, and I'm just building up all this anxiety over it and everything.

Although, today has been weird anyhow, and I'm sure that my negativity is just a by-product of a mental funk. It'll go away. A good night's sleep. A hot bath. I've got some beautiful books calling my name as well. And I'm working a lot - more than I was at my last job and I think it might just be taking me a little while to adjust. I'm sure that all will be well. Some green tea wouldn't go astray - maybe I should start having that in the morning as opposed to coffee. And I skipped my breakfast this morning too. That might have something to do with this.

Although, if I haven't been as active as I know I should be, then feelings of lethargy are bound to set in. So, a new day. And tomorrow, after work I should commit to going to the gym. I should be taking this one day at time. One step toward being more healthy and active every day.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

And another thing!!!

That I'm terrible at ... is going to the gym.

Honestly and truly, I really am the most inconsistent person about it. And not just the gym, but healthy eating too! I'm good for a couple of days, maybe even a week or so with eating salads and fruits, low carb and low caffiene and then ...


Off the wagon! So far off the wagon that I'm face down in the dirt, hands scrambling in the dry, brittle dirt beneath me as twin clouds of dust trail along behind the wagon full of happy and healthy people who make it to the gym at least 3 times a week. Meanwhile, there I am face down in the dirt, weeping at having falling off and wondering just how in the hell I'm going to get back on. Do I run after this one, or do I just sit there on the side of the road, stuffing my face with Reese Peanut Butter cups, peanut butter and jam sammichs and washing it all down with chocolate milk.

I did have a personal trainer at one point though - which was alright. I paid an exorbitant amount of money for a year's worth of training sessions. I did learn a few things, and my trainer really put me through some really tough work outs, and we met me about three times a week and I was feeling really good. I lost inches - which made me feel amazing, and I've managed to keep them off!! So now I'm trying to keep myself active and going to the gym, and eating healthy.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

So, one of the trainers who works at the GoodLife here in town popped in to where I work today. She's so awesome. She's tiny and petite and cute and fierce. She's a personal trainer, and she's training for a fitness show in 17 days! So, I gave her my number and I told her to text me and bully me in to going to the gym. She agreed with delight. I'm such a carb junkie! I could eat chips, rice, cookies, cake and bread and cheese until the cows come home! So, if I can conquer my own food cravings (is anybody handing out insane amounts of willpower, please feel free to send some my way) and get my ass to the gym on a regular basis I should be okay.

I hope.

I just find it so hard to stay motivated. Especially when my partner can just plunk his cute little butt down on the couch and drink a litre of lemonade, eat two chicken burgers plus an extra patty and then dive in to a bag of mini peanut butter cups ... and.not.gain.weight!! Of course, I guess it helps he goes to the gym like four times a week.

*flails and stomps*

Why is it so easy for him?!?!?!?!???

Sunday, May 12, 2013

To The Mother's

It's Mother's Day today.

She is a woman of unbelievable grace, untold patience, kindness, and love. To say that she is special is an understatement. I remember being a little girl of just five years old getting ready for my first day of Kindergarten and standing on the back porch all dressed in a cute little black and red plaid skirt, a knitted sweater that I think had a little black dog on it like Dorothy's Tutu, backpack slung over my tiny little shoulders and my feet stuck in a pair of my mom's white heeled dress shoes.

I think I might have gotten halfway down the back walkway before she called me back for a picture, the heels of her shoes clicking raggedly along the concrete. I'm sure she made me change my shoes after that. Then, there are the times I remember driving around with her (probably shopping) and being full of heart ache for one reason or another and being able to talk to her about it. She would sit there, and just listen to me, tell me that it was alright. She would tell me that a bruised heart will heal, or that maybe the time wasn't right to be in love, or that he wasn't right for me and that I would find someone special. Then she would tell me that she loved me, and that she was sorry that I was hurt. But, in all her years, I don't think she's tried to protect me from being hurt. She has said that if she could take it away from me, she would because (I assume) that as a parent it hurts to see your child hurt. But she's always made me feel better, and told me to soldier on and that when it works ... it will work. She has also recognized something amazing in my partner that took me just a wee bit longer to figure out. I was speaking to her on the phone and she flat out told me "Don't screw it up." It made me smile at the time, and I told her I wouldn't.

No doubt there have been times in my life, as is only inevitable, that I have fallen a little short of her expectations and caused some disappointment - although, I suspect that any disappointment was due to more of the fact that at some point, as children, we find some of the most stupid and idiotic things to get ourselves in to and revel in it only to find out later that "dancing with the devil" isn't all it's cracked up to be and can have less than desirable consequences. Nevertheless, despite my terrible lapses in judgement, my mother has stood by me. She supports me, as she always does ... but also hands out a good dose of reality when needed. And while, I might get upset at her for it, in my drama queen sort of way, I know that she means well. Then, I tell her that I'm sorry and that I love her.

We've always been able to "kiss and make up."

She worries constantly. And not just about her children, or her grandkids ... but the partners that my two older brothers and I have brought in to our lives. And while I'm sure she wishes that it could all be a bed of roses for all of us, and we try to keep her from seeing the odd thorn, she has an uncanny sense that sometimes there is something amiss in the world and will check in on us. All of us. She's a kind, gentle soul anchored firmly in the belief of her Christian faith. I've seen her many times sitting in the arm chair in the living room, with sunshine pouring in thru the window behind her, reading her Bible. She knits like a fiend, and even did cross-stitching for a while there. The Serenity Prayer is hanging in a frame on the wall in the hallway of her home. She bakes bread, too. When I was little, I remember her cutting off thick slices of bread fresh from the oven and slathering them with butter and molasses. We would stand their in the kitchen, with our slices of bread held over the kitchen sink to catch the crumbs, with molasses dripping from the corner of my mouth and my tummy full of warmth and happiness. She's also taught me how to cook.

The first thing she ever taught me to cook was Honey Garlic chicken - though sadly, I still can't quite cook rice properly.

So, for everything you've done for me, Mom ... Thanks. Don't ever stop being my mother, or my friend. I'm glad we laugh the way we do, or that we cry over things while watching TV. I'm glad that of all the little girls in the world that you could have chosen, you chose me. And I'm glad that of all the mother's I could have been given in the world, you were given to me. The Universe clearly knew what it was up to.

<3 p="">

Friday, May 10, 2013

A Green(ish) Thumb

So, here I am once again! I am giving myself a small congratulations on being here two days in a row. The excitement from yesterday's writing kept me energized all day yesterday, and I had to come check on this new budding little word garden at 2am to really believe that I had started.

If only I could revitalize my plants so easily.

What had started out as a blissful little experiment about a month ago, has taken a slightly tragic turn. Since coming to Ontario, and especially over this past spring I seem to have grown an inclination towards organic foods. Now, don't get me wrong, the produce here is really, really good - better than what I've seen back home - but it also has beautiful, rich soil that seems perfect for planting and growing things. So, my dearest better half has been humoring me and this long march towards summer and has helped me set myself up with a little vegatable garden of sorts.

We took a trip to our local Home Depot, and after waiting several minutes, I was further indulged by this kind, sweet gentleman who answered all of my questions about gardening. I had picked up several seed packets of cucumbers, bell peppers, and cilantro, plus a little started pack that had peat pellets in it. Simply drench the peat until it expanded to the proper size, add two or three seeds per pellet to ensure that at least one seed began to sprout, cover them over in their little tray to make a pseudo-greenhouse and viola! Seedlings! Well, to a point, it worked - and it worked really well!

My cucumbers grew like weeds and in a little while it was time to transplant them. Hence the trip to Home Depot. (I'm afraid my story telling isn't very linear, so bear with me) The gentleman there was really helpful. He suggested that I transplant my cucumber seedling in to a fiber pot to get some great root growth growing before I either decide to put them in the ground, or in a bigger tub. So, armed with 18 little fiber pots, and a bag of dirt tailored to flower and vegetable gardens off we went! Since it's only an experiment we swung by the dollar store to grab some last minute gardening supplies - gloves, mini shovel, trowel and all that. My experiment will be deemed a success if I don't kill anything and manage to grow something, and I am more familiar with gardening jargon and lingo (but at this point, I'll just settle for not killing anything).

So, here I was trying my hand at playing Mother Nature to these foster plants. The snow was finally disappearing off the ground and the temperatures started to rise. Excellent plant growing weather. The worst of the cold days and nights are behind us. Soon, I will be taking care of glorious blooming plants and have an amazing harvest of some of the biggest cucumber and bell peppers that I had ever seen! I was going to be such a raging success! Beginner's luck wouldn't let me down!

Or so I thought.

Mother Nature has a funny sense of humor. Clearly, the old cliche of imitation being the sincerest form of flattery is lost on her. She graced us with a beautiful day! Warmth and sunshine, temperatures soaring into the high twenties, low thirties and with just enough of a breeze to lift the hot, damp hair off the nape of your neck! Unthinking that it would get drastically cold over night, and thinking that my cucumber and cilantro were at this point hardy enough to survive a night or two outside, I left them in the elements. Alone. Defenseless. Innocent.

Temperatures dropped over night to roughly ten degrees. The wind rose and was bitter, biting at your cheeks. If my plants had voices, they would have wept for shelter. If they had hands they would have knocked on my door for comfort. Instead, they are silent and still and lie drooped over and wilted in their tiny little fiber pots. Their leaves have withered and curled, their once straight, proud stems bent and some broken. I am trying to rescue them, keeping them watered and resting in sunshine, trying to nurture and rehabilitate them back in to good health. Sadly, all efforts right now aren't looking too well.

I might need to start over, with little seedlings in a pseudo-greenhouse. Perhaps another trip to Home Depot and talk to the kindly old gentleman and ask for better gardening tips.

Until then, I can only beseech Mother Nature to take pity on the poor plants that I am attempting to grow, and perhaps deign to reignite them.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

I really am terrible at this,

but I will -really- try this time. I seem to have forgotten just how good for me writing is and how much I've enjoyed it.  And while I have traveled further down the road of Personal Growth than I ever thought I would, I seem to have left behind some things that have really, honestly and truly made me happy.

So, here I am. Once again.

So far, all I've managed to do is give this old blog a little face lift, and adding in a few bells and whistles. After just sitting neglected in the vastness that is the nearly inexhaustible universe of the internet, I think that a fresh coat of paint is just what this little space that I have tried to call my own needs.

In the meantime, there is a whole plethora of things that I should be doing today, but it seems I am once again a victim of distraction - I kid you not in saying that I have spent at least the last hour or so piddling around here and not doing much of anything else. Meanwhile, I have the world's largest pile of laundry to be doing, there are dishes that need washing - a constant struggle - plus, our landlord is making an appearance later on this evening to do battle with our mold ridden side porch and despite the fact that it is nearly three in the afternoon, I remain in a state of unkempt bliss, parading around in a baggy old sweat shirt and fleece pajama bottoms.

I feel as if there should be more to say, after such a long absence - but really, what could I say? I have come to the conclusion that sometimes I tend to over-share. And while the internet can be a great place to just unload and unburden yourself to a bunch of anonymous, faceless people whom you don't know - and in the not knowing of them, find it easier to reveal bits of yourself under the assumption that no one is really judging - but that strategy can prove fatal. Some things were never meant for public and worldwide consumption on the internet. And so, while I will tell here things of vague generality, or of instances that have made me smile, please do not wait for great moments of life affirmation, or self awareness, or great personal growth. These moments are of an intensely personal nature and should be shared with those around me with whom I share a relationship of mutual love, friendship and respect. That's right internet. I have just built myself a fence - a proverbial boundary to keep the multitude of anonymous eyes and faceless peeping Toms out of a space that I have claimed my own. True, there will be times when I invite you in to share something with but I won't over share with you, if you don't overshare with me. Therefore, let me establish broad categories of accepted conversation between us.

Books and authors; a relatively safe ground for all. From this we can debate at length, though in a friendly manner, preferences, likes and dislikes of favorite authors, books, graphic novels, and maybe even small tidbits of a daily affirming nature of self love and self improvement.

Television and movies; at this particular moment Game of Thrones is consuming my life. In the near future I expect that the sixth season of TRUE BLOOD will as well as it has in the past. Also expect some fangirl gushing over WINGS, HEMLOCK GROVE, HOUSE OF CARDS, VAMPIRE DIARIES, and MAD ABOUT YOU.

Gardening; i'm trying my hand at it this year for the first time in ages and while my little experiment continues at a slow and steady pace, it is a small thing of which I take some pride in. On a side note to this, I left my cucumbers out overnight. There was an unexpected drop in the temperature (at least, I wasn't expecting it) and I think that I just might have committed manslaughter against a dozen or so innocent cucumber and cilantro plants. However, my garlic, green onion and bell pepper plants all remained indoors yesterday and are thriving. Rescue attempts for the cucumbers are underway.

Health and Fitness; an area of inconsistency in my life, I will be the first to admit. So be prepared for struggles and victories, and probably some post-workout whining as I give aching and sore muscles a voice. Also, there might end up being a rant or two involved of various things related to the gym.

Travel; my honey and I like to take small week end trips to places - usually Sudbury, North Bay, or Ottawa. We just recently came back from Ottawa and it was pure bliss. We had such a good time! So, there will be elaborations on that.

I think that just about covers everything. And so, with this list of mutually agreed upon conversation topics, I leave you for the day. It's probably time to start putting the house in order so I don't look like a totally incompetent house wife.