Tag Archives: rest

small art 5.29.14


It’s raining here today and I’ve taken up residence in my bed, wrapped in flannel sheets and blankets to stave off the damp chill streaming in through the window over my left shoulder.

I’m glad I made the excursion to the book store yesterday because even though it was overcast and cool, it was still a pleasant walk, the sun trying hard to break through the dense cloud cover but only succeeding in making the sky look like it was a little bit backlit.

The BC teachers’ union is on rotating strikes and so my son was off from school and joined me for the trip. I’m feeling better, in less pain, but moving around a lot still feels taxing. I was grateful for having him there, even if only mostly for moral support.

I’m savouring the sips of my freshly brewed coffee. There is nothing quite like a good coffee. I was raised by a coffee lover and was indoctrinated early, though what I drink these days is far different from what I grew up with. We drank espresso, in the mornings diluted with lots of warmed milk, otherwise we drank it black with only some sugar to cut the bitterness.

I picked up some new magazines yesterday. They are European imprints and I’m pleased that the local Chapters carries them. Daphne’s Diary is delightful, and even with the currency exchange it is still less expensive than the some other eye candy craft magazines. Visually appealing, with useful and inspiring content, they are a treat.

The other, 52 Weeks of Everyday Style is also hailing from Europe, with words like “jumper” and “car-boot” to make me smile. It includes lots of relatively easily executed DIY projects though I find that looking through these kinds of magazines sparks my creative vision in unexpected ways even if I don’t make a single thing from its pages. This one was $11.

I decided to sketch a bit and use the coloured pencils I’d dragged into the room a few days ago but had yet to make use of. I may still journal over the top of the black copic pen inked background.

autumn fog


It’s been foggy most mornings and evenings, which lends a veiled mystery to the beginnings and endings of days. I took this photo Monday night.

Last night I took some antihistamines and went to bed fairly early, intending to read but incapable of even doing that. Instead I had a round of Sweet Tooth 2 – something like Candy Crush (I hear) only different.

My dreams were crazy wild, something about attending a wedding and getting lost on my way to the reception and losing my date (whose friends they were) and then finding him and the wedding party again, and having crazy long and artfully painted nails (if you know me, you know that my nails are paper thin, and short down to almost quick is how I sport them).

I awoke this morning with the realization that I was breathing deeply from my belly and thinking how good it feels – how much better rested I feel when I’ve had a night full of those. Mostly I don’t, my breathing abbreviated and mirroring the stress that hides itself so well in my body.

nothing doing


Sometimes doing a whole lotta nothing is what is needed. This weekend I knitted, watched the rest of season 3 of Drop Dead Diva and read through The Prisoner of Teheran so I could return the book to a friend today. I also rewrote the notes from my first and second sessions with Joel Brass after relistening to the session recordings. I’m thankful for having found such a wonderful therapist… it was long overdue.

Earlier in the week I’d come down with a cold and it seems that advanced R&R was in order. This morning I awoke early, vacuumed and cleaned out the litter box (all before 7) and then proceeded to drive in to work, as I had a parent-teacher conference at my son’s school later in the afternoon. The normally hour long drive doubled due to traffic snarls, and my day did not get off to a good start.


By the time the evening wound back around, I can only say I’m ready for some tea and an early night. We picked up some new boxes of Stash’s teas and this Yumberry Blackcurrent tea is YUM. Now for just a bit of reading and then I think I’m going to call it a day.

Today – free form poem of sorts

Silence broken by

the hushed hum of the fridge,

the shrill whine of a circular saw splitting wood,

the occasional sounding of a car horn.

In French it’s called klaxon

and it makes me giggle a little.

I’m tired and feel slightly off,

like barely curdled milk or overripe fruit

with the pip splitting open from the centre out.

My insides are roiling in protest at the one too many

scoops of hot salsa or the extra glass of rosé I shouldn’t have had,

or something else that I just haven’t quite figured out.

A nondescript bug.

I feel I’ve accomplished much, though, these last few weeks.

Sorting and organizing always cheers me;

it recategorizes possibilities,

resets my creativity button,


I’m finding I have a lot of stuff I don’t use anymore,

things I thought essential to my creative process

which now merely clutter up the pipeline.

I’m plugging away slowly at unplugging.

Seems my body is mirroring the process.

And now to rest,

as the sound of a plane engine

scrapes across the sky.