quiet morning #2

Yup, I let my cat sit on the table. 

There are worse things.

Why is the old, shitty grill pan on the table? Lord knows. I asked Adam. He wants to get rid of it. But likely it will sit on the table for ... a month? ... before we do anything with it. #life

The monthly exercise for April in the One Little Word course is to write "What does it mean to really [your word here]?" on Post-its and stick them up around your house, your car, your planner, wherever you're going to see them. 

And variations thereof: "What does it feel like to __________?" "What does it look like when I'm _________?" 

And I gotta say, it's neat. This one pictured above is on the window above the sink, a place where I am quite often, doing dishes. I like that it simply asks the question and lets my brain fill in the rest. I like that I can think about it while I do a mindless task and let my brain come up with little bits of ideas, that I then go write down. 

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The 100 Day Project starts tomorrow. I'm a little nervous but also excited. Will I stick with it? I keep wondering. Well, I mean, I don't know. I can't know. But I can give it a try. 

I'm doing 100 Colour Palettes. Here's what I've got so far. (It will give you an idea of the project.)

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I'm currently grooving to -- and loving -- this song and video:

I put it on and dance around my kitchen. Even though I don't wear a hijab, nor am I Muslim, I believe in the right to do so, to be so. And it's damn danceable. 

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It's April third and today I was out shovelling yet another 5 centimetres of snow that had formed in drifts across the driveway. It doesn't feel a whit like spring here at the moment. Snow is still a foot deep across the land, and the wind is cold and whips it all around in spirals and clouds. It's pretty, absolutely. Am I ready for it to be gone? 100 percent. I dream of baby daffodil nubs poking up out of the dirt. Of the warmth of the spring sun and the steady tap-tap-tap of melting snow and ice. 

Ahh well. It is what it is. 

Off to work with me. Happy Monday, friends.

love lives here

Adam is working today, and I'm home by myself. I've alternated between playing music loud, complete silence, talking to my Dad on the phone, and listening to a podcast. And now back to silence.

In another hour or so, my Mom is due to arrive. A few days ago she turned 60. Today we're celebrating by going out for dinner, and then to a movie. 

It seems so simple. Yet these are the memories we'll keep. When she's 70, or 80, we'll remember. We'll say, "Remember when we went to see Beauty and the Beast for your 60th?" 

"Yes, back before you guys had _________ [fill in the blank here for whatever we end up naming the baby that I'm not even pregnant with yet]."

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My friend Aleena is from Pakistan originally, and she has introduced me to the phrase "Inshallah."

"If God wills."

I asked her when someone was arriving on a plane recently and she texted back, "2:30. Inshallah." I think it's like "touch wood". "Hopefully. If all goes well. If nothing goes wrong."

We never know, what lies ahead. So we touch wood. So we say "Inshallah."

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It's the weekend. I'm working on an idea for something to do for #The100DayProject. It has to do with colour palettes and photos of everyday life. (If you're interested in #The100DayProject there is more info here: The100DayProject. And here is my idea.) I'm a little nervous (will I keep it up? will it still be interesting to me then?) but also excited (maybe I'll keep it up! maybe it will be incredibly interesting even at the end!). Maybe it will morph and change. Probably it will morph and change. Just like the other, bigger project I'm planning to embark on, that of trying for a baby.

Inshallah. 

Happy Saturday, friends. 

sweet & spicy

Reading, over coffee this morning. Wanting to underline it all. Score it all, and by so doing, transfer it to my heart for safekeeping. For safe-remembering. 

But it's a library book. So I'll tuck it away to order later, buy later. Not right this second, although that's what I want to do, but I'm trying to be fiscally responsible, so I will wait. (Wait for free shipping, more like.) 

Last night's supper - salmon tails slathered in a sauce of horseradish, Dijon mustard, and honey. Baked in the oven. Pungent, tasty, spicy, sweet. Not for Adam (he doesn't like fish) but for me. (He had steak.)

This morning: saw Adam off at 6. Hugged him at the door. "Love you honey," I said, as normal. Then: "100 percent. Down to your toes." Not what I normally say, but I was inspired this morning. He rolls his eyes affectionately, "OK dear." 

After I ate breakfast, I came in here, to my office. Inspired. In spiro. Lit my candle. Put on Lauryn Hill, the Unplugged album. Those strumming strings, those cracked-voice lyrics -- ahhhhhh. My soul. It sings along. I clap in my mind with the audience on the album. 

Happy Thursday, friends. 

 

 

it's good to go to the source

In my case, that means my mother's house in Baddeck Bay. 

Home of wooden plates, whole-wheat waffles packed with berries and chocolate, and snow-woods-silence. Three cats. Big windows. Memories. Maman. 

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Right now, more than anything, I value: silence. 

Both auditory and in my schedule.

Time to not think of others. Of their needs. Time and space to focus on me. My needs. 

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The clocks went forward one hour. It is lighter later. We crept forward a minute at a time for months and suddenly: jumped! 

Happy Monday, friends.

A present

A special weather statement is in effect. 

A low pressure system will pass south of Nova Scotia tonight as it intensifies and tracks towards Newfoundland. Snow from this system is expected to reach the Atlantic Coast of Nova Scotia this afternoon in the south and early this evening further north.

The clouds hang low. The air is still and cold. 

Just a few days ago it was warm. You could feel spring coming. I half expected to see the tiny tips of chives poking up out of the ground. I felt drunk on garden plans. 

A few days and a weather statement later, and we're back to considering shovels. Back to factoring in extra time in plans for clearing the driveway. Back to thinking, "Do I have enough books to read if the storm is heavier than expected?"

(I will always technically have enough books to read, as I have plenty on my shelves that I've never read. But what I'm really asking is, "Do I have enough books from the library that I'm actually excited to read?")

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Tonight on my way home from work (which is in Sydney) I drove past the turn to my house and all the way into town (which is North Sydney - and which is actually a completely separate town than Sydney; separated by a harbour in fact). I had gotten an email from my local library branch earlier, letting me know that an Inter-library Loan (or ILL for us nerds) was in. "Present Over Perfect" by Shauna Niequest. A title I have been wanting to read since I first heard about it last year, but which my own library system didn't buy, so I had to order it via ILL from somewhere else in the province. But you have to wait a year for those: they don't ILL books within a year of publication. 

So I knew I wasn't waiting til later in the weekend for this book. A storm on the way, and an exciting title? I'm definitely spending those extra ten minutes and what, a dollar? on gas to go get it. 

Happy Friday - and possible storm day - friends. 

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PS Bonus mini "Links Loved": these blogging tips by Erin Loechner feel really good to me right now. I read them through, and thought "yes, yes, yes." I want to go back and chew them over a few more times. 

 

quiet morning #1

We blog for such different reasons at different points in our lives. It really runs the gamut from showing expertise in a subject (carefully crafted posts, shared with less frequency) to off-the-cuff logging of life (the writing is then a work in progress, shared more with frequency). 

This month I am showing up here daily, quietly, I've decided. 

Making a small record every day. Of this life, as it is right now. 

Before things change. (If they change - so much of the upcoming possible change is not up to Adam and I. Only one part is.) 

For now, it's 6:32 am. I have "Kerala" by Bonobo on repeat, and loud. It feels like the perfect soundtrack. I love the voices blending, and the tones of the instruments. Outside the sun is rising. The sky is a gradient from blue to light yellow, stunning and clear. The ducks that live in the field nearby are flying around, black silhouettes against the light. 

Adam has left for work. He's working the Woodbine job these days, which starts at 7. I'll go to work at 8, for an 8:30 start. 

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A seagull flaps by. 

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I feel like digging back in time. Like spending time re-reading my own words, from 2002 (age 18), to 2012 (age 28). To today. To rediscover. Become re-inspired. 

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Happy Thursday, friends. 

Currently...

Writing for 15 minutes a day (or trying anyway).

Listening to this song.  It seems to fit this contented, peaceful season Adam and I find ourselves in.

Smelling the pre-Spring air, itching to dig in the ground. 

Googling easy-to-fit-together raised beds.

Drinking coffee, one cup in the morning. 

Desiring yoga again.

Making do with a few simple stretches in my chair right now.

Watching crows out of my window on the neighbour's telephone wire.

Hitting repeat on the song from earlier.

Thinking about women, patriarchy, misogyny, love and hate. (Happy Women's Day.)

Flipping through my Get To Work Book and thinking about the day of work ahead. Who will I see, whose hellos will I hear? Will I get my planned work done or will I be interrupted? How will those interruptions shape my day?

Making lunch - a sandwich, probably.

Happy Wednesday, friends.