The soft sound of rainfall can be heard through my barely open window. I could not have asked for better weather during these seven days. It’s been sunny and warm the whole time.
I rested, but I got a lot done, too. I cleaned for days, but I wrote too, and last Friday I read one of my pieces at an open mic in town. I’d been stressing about it all week so I’m glad I got that over with. It wasn’t as awful as I’d imagined and my son and his girlfriend came to support, though they arrived just as I was stepping off the stage.
The highlight of the evening for me was to meet my TWSO cohorts and the very delicious elderflower and cucumber gin tonic that I had, which I had to replicate yesterday because it was the perfect drink to sip on a warm sunny day.
I have to admit that the less expendable time I have, the more precious it is. I savoured every single day that I had off, and while I didn’t get as much done as I’d hoped, everything I did was done with an elevated sense of mindfulness and appreciation.
My Christmas tree is still up.
I kid you not.
I’ve been working a job and a half, thereby eliminating any sort of “day off”, and when I have a free night, or part of a day, I can’t help myself – I chill.
Tonight the thing that sounded best, after reheating pasta from last week for dinner, was a spot of reading and a nice little split of Cabernet Sauvignon.
The book is pretty light reading and not anywhere as engaging as Eat Pray Love (as one of the many review snippets at the front of it alluded to), but it’s still fodder for my imagination that feeds my own aspirations of a visit to the grande dame of cities, and eventually perhaps the rest of the country.
The weather has been behaving these last few days. Sundown was spectacular this evening, and we’ve been graced with light since Saturday. It certainly makes the length of my work days more bearable when I at least get to see some sunlight (even if it’s interrupted by a bus ride nap).
The winter has felt long. We’ve had lots of rain even though the rainfall has (supposedly) been below “normal”. I think that sounds funny, especially when rivers of rain flow down the street more briskly than the Santa Ana flows most of the time.
Those are the days that I wish I was back in Orange County.
The air is always fresh here, though, and the layer of moss on everything that remains in place for any length of time is even (mostly) charming.
It’s a matter of negotiating the less appealing aspects with some finely tuned biochemical assistance. Like sublingual vitamin d drops, for instance.
Last week I viewed from the top of our tower some local film crews setting and shooting scenes. My guess is it’s Once Upon A Time, still shooting their NYC scenes.
I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more filming since I’ve been in Vancouver than I ever did while I was in California.
Well… that’s all she wrote (at least for tonight).
Bonne nuit, mes chouettes.
My emails are awash with warnings that Mercury goes retrograde today.
I’m here wondering what the future will bring; how to plan for a future I am so uncertain of.
I am also greeted by wishes for a good day today by many people, many who I’ve only gotten to know via art or poetry groups online.
I am grateful to my communities and astounded that people care enough to send a message.
It’s the little things that string together joy in life, and the people.
Gold daylight bounces off of a mirrored building as I wait for the bus.
My fingers tingle with the cold as I press out this note.
I’m on the bus and the driver sings happy birthday to me.
We have come to know each other through the daily ritual of commuting.
The sky floods with yellow and orange washes.
Someone offers me their seat.
I hesitate to take it because the one who offers it up is a woman who I know will be riding the route to its very end, downtown.
I have never witnessed a man ever offering up their seat to anyone.
It’s always the women getting up… for the elderly, for others.
I don’t remember it being this way in Montreal two decades ago, when I rode transit there but it has been a long time and perhaps things have changed there too.
I’m revelling in the little things, sitting in gratitude even though I hope for more.
An easier life.
Perhaps a bit more love.
Time to create, which I have let sag due to working so many hours just to keep up with the bills.
Fatigue wins out at the end of the day, after last minute items for dinner are picked up, meals have been prepared and the house tidied up.
The Christmas tree still reigns in the living room, waiting to be boxed back up until the next holiday season.
I ponder the option of merely changing the ornaments and leaving it up year ’round but realize that even changing the ornaments is more time than I wish to spend on the endeavour.
I’ve become increasingly efficient.
Time is at a premium and I get the things that I would otherwise procrastinate on done because I can no longer afford to push things off for when I have more time.
There is no more time.
I continue to crunch on how I will figure out a way to knit (my preferred form of meditation) and to write, because nothing makes my heart soar so high as a good write.
Fatigue leaves my brain foggy and unresponsive, once again confirming what I’d read in Scarcity, that our higher cognitive functions, when our minds are overtaxed, operate at a lower level of intelligence.
Thankfully I have a bit of grey matter to spare, but truly, I could use all of it now.
Instead the mind fog flows in and things become simplified.
I marvel at the filigree tree branches highlighted against a striated morning sky.