tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78724201131518353362024-03-19T09:22:52.248-03:00Tales From Dartmouth Covetaking life one day at a timeDreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-27635461645301030822010-03-17T15:19:00.000-03:002010-03-17T15:19:35.132-03:00Wrapping Up Dartmouth Cove<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So my time in Dartmouth cove is coming to a swift close at the end of the month as I head out on my big journey. The past 14 months in Dartmouth Cove have been very interesting, as well as tragic and thought provoking. I truly enjoyed my time spent in my cozy apartment just a half-block from the ocean. My neighbors were entertaining, to say the least - everyone from little mama with her violent partner to baby daddy with a chip on his shoulder to the various and assorted interesting folks who came and went. The fire that burned out apartments to a crisp that cold New Year's Eve will not be long forgotten, but I am working to put it behind me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I enjoyed being so close to the parks, the downtown, the ferry, and Tim Hortons (I am Canadian after all) and having my own private balcony to chill with Stormy through the glorious spring, summer and fall days. The apartment had so much character, and my stuff fit perfectly. I should have known then, something was going to unravel, and I had that sense even last fall, this weird sense of forboding. Little did I know it would be a horrible fire that would blast through my cozy apartment. I still struggle with the losses, however material that may sound. It isn't for the furniture or the dishes, it is for my life story, wrapped up in VHS home movies, 8mm soundless reels of old home movies, the hundreds of slides my father took of us as wee children, the thousands of photos lost in albums and boxes, the jewelry given to me by my grandmother, and so on. I have yet to really grieve for this loss, being wrapped up in the business of life and preparation for my trip. I reckon it will eventually catch up with me on some idle Tuesday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My current apartment is a dump. I hate it. It is a roof over my head, but I have treated it like a barn, where I can prepare for the trip. This apartment is no sanctuary that my last one accomplished so well. The fact that it doesn't have a living room and no comfy chair or sofa is the biggest problem I have with it. Stormy doesn't seem to mind too much, but he does miss going out on the balcony. This one does not have a gate and he would be GONE if I let him out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Soon enough, my home will be a 1985 Westfalia Vanagon, and Stormy and I will be touring the country. Life will be wrapping up in Dartmouth Cove, and it's been a hell of a ride.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-40078628741744886622010-03-08T21:43:00.000-04:002010-03-08T21:43:24.027-04:00Don't Ya Love Them Peepers!So it has now been 3 years since I had laser surgery to correct my vision. I'm pleased to say it is a roaring success. I often have to remind myself that oh yeah, I used to wear contacts/glasses. And wear them I did. I couldn't see to get around without them. They were the first thing I put on in the morning and the last thing off at night. It has been exceptionally freeing. I would spend more time fussing and frigging around with my contact lenses than anything else, and I didn't enjoy wearing my glasses AT ALL. Laser surgery ended all that jazz.<br />
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The surgery wasn't what I was expecting as I had to get the more expensive one, which was a total drag, and took longer to heal, but in the end, I'm quite happy about the result. I used to wear a prescription of -10 in one eye and -9.75 in the other. My contacts only sized up to 10. Now my vision is 20/20. My eyes are dry from time to time, and i don't particularly like bright lights, florescent mostly, but such a small price to pay for not having to wear glasses. I'd worn them since I was 6 years old and should have worn them before that as the first prescription was strong enough.<br />
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I loves me peepers.Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-3988271364231395552010-02-20T14:44:00.000-04:002010-02-20T14:44:55.937-04:00Well now...<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So I have some things to put in storage. I</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> didn't really know for sure how many storage bins I needed, but at least two, if not three. I had bought one earlier in the week at Zellers, and then today bought another the same size, and a larger one. Then I came home and packed up what I'm putting into storage. My things have only half-filled the two smaller bins. Oh my, how things have changed. I have a few things I'll leave out until right before I leave, but they won't fill either bin. Partly because the apartment is furnished, of course. As well, I have been purchasing new items with the journey in mind, so most of my things are either going with me, getting thrown out, or given away when I leave. I was finished packing in about 15 minutes. Wow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I would like to maintain this lightweight lifestyle. I can move ANYWHERE when I'm this portable. That had always been a hurdle in the past. I'll have my passport in about 10 days, and I'll be set for 5 years of travel! Wouldn't that be something.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-6961422672739347092010-02-20T08:13:00.000-04:002010-02-20T08:13:17.097-04:00Apartment Life<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I've been in this apartment for 7 weeks now. Some days it feels like the fire just happened. Then other days, it seems like a distant memory. I don't particularly like this apartment. I didn't realize how much the loss of a living room space would matter. There is no window to sit or stand to look out of. There are lots of windows in this place, however they are all high up and short, and located over an obstacle - kitchen cupboards, the bed in each room, the tub. I see a lot of sky...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I have been weaning myself off of television in preparation for leaving in April. It isn't as hard as I imagined, due to the crappy tv setup compared to what I lost in the fire. Just a small 20 inch tv with analog cable. No onscreen guide so I only get to see what's coming on in the next half hour. I was also very spoiled by my PVR, and now miss all my shows because I'm either out, busy, or forget. Dammit. I've missed the new Survivor episodes and The Amazing Race. I have been watching a lot of DVD's mostly ER.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88N9kG3lJWbTj5JoMyGjqYbsAXRPliHsoGm9wQMILiC1X1uKTPVzoLwZ0Q7kpysC-tSjP5S_a1EZGu1dWhSwedpqEu-n4sw0ZJGZxpnxQ_Nb_06Gnr5ZG1H4WvULgwv60uJK2S3QE-yY/s1600-h/Stormy+in+his+new+hoodie+023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88N9kG3lJWbTj5JoMyGjqYbsAXRPliHsoGm9wQMILiC1X1uKTPVzoLwZ0Q7kpysC-tSjP5S_a1EZGu1dWhSwedpqEu-n4sw0ZJGZxpnxQ_Nb_06Gnr5ZG1H4WvULgwv60uJK2S3QE-yY/s320/Stormy+in+his+new+hoodie+023.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Stormy has settled in for the most part, but I think he misses his window perches. there isn't any way to put him in front of a window in this place. He will have a wonderful view from the camper. I bought him a hoodie yesteray, Yes, it looks rather ridiculous but also very CUTE!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I intend to make him a few bandannas too. he doesn't seem to really care. He did initially act like he was paralyzed as cats often do when you put anything on their middles. Then he wore it for the rest of the night without complaint!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I haven't cooked much here. There aren't many cooking dishes here, and I don't see the point in replacing all my cooking and baking products when I won't be able to use them on the trip. So I don't eat many cooked meals, rather I've either been eating out or grazing throughout the day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">No living room also means nowhere comfortable to sit down and curl up to watch tv or read. There are just the four kitchen chairs, a horrible ripped up and noisy vinyl office chair, and the beds. My bum misses my teddy bear sofa and chair & a half. Boo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It is significantly quieter here, as the apartment is set back from the road, and the building portion I'm in is made of brick. That's a bonus I guess. I also can take any of the four buses that pass by there to right outside my workplace. I don't always get a seat and when that happens, I often get off at the ferry terminal and take the ferry across. No crazy neighbors so far...there is however, a young baby living below me. Or at least there were. I haven't seen them in a few days, so maybe they've moved out. These apartments are available by the week as well as monthly, given that they're furnished.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I have a full weekend planned. I'll heading out to test drive a camper today, shopping after that, sewing after that. Tomorrow I'll be at my mother's in the morning, making up some poster boards for my uncle who lives in a nursing home. His walls are bare, so I can't wait to cover them up with old photos. He remembers the old days well enough.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On that note, I best get my body in motion.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-42897738824464017642010-02-06T23:02:00.000-04:002010-02-06T23:02:42.188-04:00Sagittarius<div class="mmhcp-modCol2"><div class="mmhcp-prediction">"Consider making some plans for a vacation or short getaway, Sagittarius. Looking forward to something fun can make even the toughest of days far easier to handle. You'll be amazed how much you can manage when there's an end in plain sight. Your entire attitude can lighten. So take the bull by the horns and create an incentive for yourself. Do something special to reward the hard work you do day after day." </div><div class="mmhcp-prediction" style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="mmhcp-prediction"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Interesting...very interesting indeed.</span></div></div>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-25364012538990593432010-02-05T18:15:00.001-04:002010-02-05T18:16:24.309-04:00And Then...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO1sPNBcipZRfgcuX7SZsQp_42iVOTSkShHnpRJseLw88gdFzRINcEsfvPa8-P2KBjf7d-ZBpZOMCyiBmDEzaj8XkU0IKM2vkCz5F7kQ7b4FZ8B8DlhzYO6jszyblEjefbHtFJto2H0gw/s1600-h/me+and+my+dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO1sPNBcipZRfgcuX7SZsQp_42iVOTSkShHnpRJseLw88gdFzRINcEsfvPa8-P2KBjf7d-ZBpZOMCyiBmDEzaj8XkU0IKM2vkCz5F7kQ7b4FZ8B8DlhzYO6jszyblEjefbHtFJto2H0gw/s320/me+and+my+dad.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Someone asked me how I was doing this week, referring to the loss of my father. Well, to be honest, I thought I had been moving along quite nicely at Christmas. I had survived the holiday. And then there was a fire. I was sucked into the vortex of the world of housefire veterans...endless paperwork and taking inventory, both physical and of my own sanity. Sifting through the charred remains of your own environment. Rescuing the most minor of objects and feeling like you've won the lottery until you see another charred bit of sadness. Sleepless nights, aching body, rotten cold, and barely escaping with my life. In all the madness, I had somehow pushed my grief aside while trauma took over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The trauma is settling some, and then...I clicked on a Facebook game, Wordscraper and checked my inactive games. I knew they were there. I had been there before, shortly after my father died. The list came up with four games. One with my mother and three with my father. I clicked on each game and saw the last words he played. He became too weak to sit at his computer in the last couple of weeks. They are listed as inactive. I can't bring myself to delete them. I'm sure his account will eventually hibernate. As soon as I opened the word list, to see who played which words, I began to cry. I think grief is back from it's vacation while trauma was taking over the show. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I miss you Dad. I haven't forgotten you. </span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-88486596277389410992010-02-01T17:52:00.001-04:002010-02-01T18:00:30.232-04:00Got Ssssssmoked in the Parking Lot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHA0bB6x8tcBtav23CxdW2mNeOhnAGOWuY0ciD7VGvIt4WiLNgu03hEpGycJq_chlBaDD4PXYhDA0Cvr_8s6QTeK0y886pTq1yudQ8yiUXk1qE2nOyb8z_JacdO-oovhM5w6lSRJCe5SU/s1600-h/car+damage+Feb+1,+2010+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHA0bB6x8tcBtav23CxdW2mNeOhnAGOWuY0ciD7VGvIt4WiLNgu03hEpGycJq_chlBaDD4PXYhDA0Cvr_8s6QTeK0y886pTq1yudQ8yiUXk1qE2nOyb8z_JacdO-oovhM5w6lSRJCe5SU/s320/car+damage+Feb+1,+2010+005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ViNf2JbTHdClN_OZVzw39QlPlmYKF4qvXJlHArKFJw_VqCue2SQL7VcPPJFWkHGvsdQFJcKYXOphWRJExd8I3EAD3PciX8sYnUYXeVCyaxWcHkpZDRnZDY_kBej44ZXS-duLwwfRM2Q/s1600-h/car+damage+Feb+1,+2010+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ViNf2JbTHdClN_OZVzw39QlPlmYKF4qvXJlHArKFJw_VqCue2SQL7VcPPJFWkHGvsdQFJcKYXOphWRJExd8I3EAD3PciX8sYnUYXeVCyaxWcHkpZDRnZDY_kBej44ZXS-duLwwfRM2Q/s320/car+damage+Feb+1,+2010+003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">No, I am not writing about hotboxing someone's car...I am talking about pulling out of a parking space and a Dodge Caravan nearly ripped off my front end. He didn't see me, clearly. I was able to limp home, but won't drive it. I have to wait for the insurance company to come and take a look, get it towed to a garage and repaired. I don't think the frame was damaged, just the big ass fibreglass bumpers they put on them. Wish I had the hard rubber bumper I had on my old Camry. Even when thieves took it for a joyride playing bumper cars, they didn't damage the bumper. It could take a hit. I think the insurance companies are in bed with the car manufacturers. Make the part of the car that gets hit the most out of real expensive shit that dents and breaks easily so we can milk the customers claims. Who knows. All I know is I got ssssssmmmmoked in the parking lot at Sobey's. Dammit. ONE MORE THING to deal with. Seems to be the story of my life. I'm ready for a new chapter.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-68363810034089916402010-01-31T11:33:00.000-04:002010-01-31T11:33:29.892-04:00By the light of the speaker<div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3m5HBNA9KUvglMzE6GVfrjLLwDljioiml9J8KiGlgok74pKktta2AGlBk2BbIfuSjab2LEZBNqdsZAdEoH42WUH0E2WmwDvSElBQcBm1uPie4ByePItwdrqwmYVNuE_wivG14-9uHSgA/s1600-h/socks+and+weirdness+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3m5HBNA9KUvglMzE6GVfrjLLwDljioiml9J8KiGlgok74pKktta2AGlBk2BbIfuSjab2LEZBNqdsZAdEoH42WUH0E2WmwDvSElBQcBm1uPie4ByePItwdrqwmYVNuE_wivG14-9uHSgA/s320/socks+and+weirdness+001.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So many of today's gadgets have indicator lights on them, turning our homes into star spangled applause. A bright blue light from my desktop speakers, a brilliant white light from the end of my laptop charger cord. A red light glows from inside my mouse. A green light blinks at me from the smoke alarm. My Blackberry blinks green, red, blue, orange and yellow, depending on the status. Green and red from the microwave's time and program. Turquoise letters and numbers on the stove panel. Status lights on your vcr, dvd player, stereo components, television, and most all cell phones when friends come to visit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My clock radio also has it's own electronic display happening. Power bars hold another status light that glowers at us from beneath desks, behind entertainment stands, or next to the bed. We are gadget maniacs. I'm just as guilty as the rest. Most of these indicator lights are LED now, so very little energy, and bulbs last longer. But we have lost the darkness from our homes. I often orient myself in the dark to the glowing lights here and there, guiding my way like a chorus of dwarfed and confused reindeer.</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDb88wOERsdHb4CJXKf4ygjRqVynLtZz9mDSOZtzS0UsJDwv0wncSGA1noKs65PdxNih9b5jjgTJuV_K9PThJ7eBexvAcBBMt6fphkde2E40GZsTvDnXU0kk_sR_nux__3kHDBpkQHXKU/s1600-h/VW+bus+lamp+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDb88wOERsdHb4CJXKf4ygjRqVynLtZz9mDSOZtzS0UsJDwv0wncSGA1noKs65PdxNih9b5jjgTJuV_K9PThJ7eBexvAcBBMt6fphkde2E40GZsTvDnXU0kk_sR_nux__3kHDBpkQHXKU/s320/VW+bus+lamp+001.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's what I enjoy most about camping in the wilderness - no residual light, just mother earth and all her goodness as it was meant to be experienced. Camping season is just around the corner, and camping in a vw camper will be much warmer, so I can go earlier! I just need to get the camper. In the meantime, I shall continue to plan and prepare for the trip, and sit by my new lamp.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-77919850619620670962010-01-29T07:14:00.002-04:002010-01-29T07:20:18.839-04:00Housefires Suck<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No, there hasn't been another fire. But every single day and nearly every single hour I am thinking about the fire. Sometimes I've remembered something else I lost in the fire and I either get angry about it, or I'm ready to cry again. Sometimes I'm brooding about wanting to get back in there and sift through the rubble. They're tearing it down bit by bit, and a few times when I've driven by, I can see my old burnt up furniture in the back of the truck they are using to haul it away. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I chose to move into a furnished apartment just up the street from my old place, as it was easier to stay with the same landlord, and they had something available that very day I went looking. As well, I didn't have to really change much about getting to work, except that now the ferry terminal is too far away to walk to in the morning, so I've also been robbed of that pleasure. I just didn't have it in me to learn a whole new neighborhood, and a different bus schedule to get to work, not for just a few months. However, the drawback is, I now have to pass my house every single day as I head to work, and every single time I am driving through the city. I always look, but now it's getting harder and harder to look at the burned up carcass that used to be my lovely apartment.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I get reminded all the time that I am lucky I was able to escape with my life and my kitty. Yes, I know these things. I know them quite intimately, as the smoke filled my apartment while I was calling 911 and looking for Stormy. I am still pissed about the fire though. I mind very much that instead of hunkering down for the winter in my cozy apartment with my big screen tv, teddy bear furniture, and all of my books and hobbies around me, I am in this shitty little apartment filled with crappy furniture. It was to be a winter of regeneration. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Instead it is a winter of bitterness. Partly my fault, I did choose the apartment. I just hate it. There is no living room, which i didn't think would bother me as much as it does. I miss curling up on the sofa or in my big chair & a half. Now I have to sit on a shitty old bed to watch the 20inch television propped up on a tall dresser. I have thought about getting a cheapo second hand chair to stick in my bedroom, however I can't handle a chair on my own, and I've mentioned it enough times to my mother who offered to find someone help me handle one, but that seems to have been forgotten. So a month later, I am still sitting on the edge of my bed to watch television. If I make other plans to get a chair, that would likely be the exact day my mother arranged to have someone drop a chair off and I would never hear the end of it. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I only have basic cable, with no PVR or digital box. I was complete spoiled for 2 years with my PVR. Now I barely watch anything on cable because I just cannot stand the commercials, and the fact that I have to check the channel guide on channel 8, and can only see what's coming on in the next half hour....sigh...so I watch my dvd's instead, mostly ER. I usually end up laying down to watch, and because it's a crappy bed, I have to change positions quite often or my hips get sore.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I also mind that I don't have any of my kitchen stuff to cook with. It isn't worth it to replace most of it, as I would only be storing it in April. So now I barely cook at all. Not like I have much of an appetite anyhow. Lost that in the fire too. Some days I can eat a meal, while others, the food has no taste.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">It isn't about the owning of material goods, it is more about the comfort I've had to surrender. Each piece I bought for my apartment last year was carefully chosen for a reason, and things just all worked. Most everything I had chosen to ship down from the north was also carefully chosen, not wanting to pay Canada Post to ship junk. I had kept what I did for mostly emotional attachments. Now most of it is in a charred heap. And then there are all of the things that may have survived the fire, but are likely being dragged off to the dump by the demo crew. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">That's when my anxiety sets in. I had a few boxes of paper, which likely only scorched and sat in a soggy heap while the fire burned everything else, as tightly packed paper doesn't tend to burn too well. Now my personal papers are likely blowing all around the dump for everyone to see. Stuff like student loan papers, my university transcripts, my health records, my divorce papers, my bills, private letters I've hung onto for years, income tax papers, the list goes on. My mother would be having a coronary about now, given she shreds even the envelopes because her name is on them. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I am rather depressed. I'm quite certain about that, and know how to recognize the signs, given my profession as social worker. It doesn't make things any easier to manage. I'm still depressed, i just know why and how. Every day I get up thankful to be alive, but ruminating about the effect the fire has had on me. I really resent that I had to go through the ordeal. Dealing with all of the post-fire stuff is downright exhausting. Between the seemingly endless shopping, the insurance claim, sifting through the few things I did recover from the fire, setting up house again, and talking about the fire to everyone who asks is just draining sometimes. Having to buy all of your clothes in the middle of winter when you are planning a trip somewhere warm for a year is quite a challenge, though I have to admit, even though it's January, summer items are slowly making their way to the stores. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Replacing clothing is no easy task. When you think of your assortment of clothes in various closets, dressers, etc, it is an accumulation of items. Things that were bought during different seasons, at different places, probably 2-3 items at a time or less. Much of it might represent your interests, particularly the t-shirt collection I had. Most of my t-shirts were souvenir ones, from concerts I had attended, music festivals, exotic locations, musicians I enjoyed, or themes that I enjoyed. I was able to get a nice assortment of rock t-shirts at Old Navy, but it isn't the same. There is absolutely no fond memory attached to any of them. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">It isn't just me that has been affected. Stormy is without his 'teddy' that he had since he was a kitten and held some weird fascination with. He wouldn't play with it at all when I was in the house, but as soon as I was gone, even to the dumpster, he would be using the bear, and I could tell because it was in a different place than when I left, even just for 5 minutes. I'm not sure what he did with it in my absence, but I think there was some licking involved...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Housefires suck.</span></div>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-37012888019561721682010-01-25T17:15:00.002-04:002010-01-25T17:20:58.673-04:00My Fascination With ER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitkmLLGpZeg0_BDBV8uBCOZet5C5ziFNkb8r1qd4lz40zivPriEknsyVwcE3ic4qpDmS-TuPXhGnt42HNez2wux9cbWgHouqkAL5POoUec9GAYqwtBFX000zsT4sgAk-EdkgSF7GEvaLk/s1600-h/256px-DVD_Season_1_Cover_(EUA).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitkmLLGpZeg0_BDBV8uBCOZet5C5ziFNkb8r1qd4lz40zivPriEknsyVwcE3ic4qpDmS-TuPXhGnt42HNez2wux9cbWgHouqkAL5POoUec9GAYqwtBFX000zsT4sgAk-EdkgSF7GEvaLk/s320/256px-DVD_Season_1_Cover_(EUA).jpg" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Since the pilot first aired for ER in 1994, starring Anthony Edwards and George Clooney, I have been hooked. I have seen every single episode. I owned 11 seasons of ER on DVD. I rescued 10 of them. The other season was on the tv stand at the time and not on the bookshelf. I was in the middle of Season 5. I have watched these DVD's right through from the first season to the last several times. Some more than others as they only release a couple of seasons per yer, if that, so it has taken awhile to collect this many seasons. I don't always watch the entire show while sitting on the sofa engrossed. I know all of the episodes very well, particulary the earlier ones, as they have been played more often, so I often will have it on in the room while I'm doing other things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I have come to know each of the characters very well over the 15 years ER was on the air. I don't find it as gossipy-drippy-beverly hills meets desperate housewives as Grey's Anatomy. I have watched Grey's from time to time, but I like how ER has so many patients and we get little snips of each person's life. It's like peoplewatching from the safety of my living room within reach of my fridge and a bathroom. They sure covered a variety of medical issues on ER. I think I could breeze through medical school with my ER knowledge....ha ha...kidding, but whether they are technically correct in every single scene (I really don't care or know the difference, or care that I don't know the difference) I have definitely increased my knowledge of medical terminology and can use some of it in context. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The stories were real everyday occurrences, and tragic rare happenings. Not everyone lived, including the staff. In all of their 15 years on the air, the only truly cheesy scene I felt did not fit with anything else they filmed was when Romano was killed by a helicopter that fell on him in the ambulance bay. I mean, give me a friggin break. He lost his arm the year before by ducking too close to the tail rotor, so had a "fear of helicopters", rightly so. But then to be killed by a falling helicopter? No one even found him until the mess was cleared away the following day...ewww...I'm sure they could have slipped what was left of him under the door.</span><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I certainly enjoyed the casting on the show, including all of the guest appearances each week. The highlight for me was Alan Alda playing a retired army doc with Alzheimer's. I was also a M*A*S*H fan as well and have ALL seasons of that show on DVD. The steady characters were richly written, and the guest appearances, introduction to new characters, and the loss of others were well written and I enjoyed each and every episode of the show. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">But after all of what I've written about why I like the show, the prominent reason I watch the show on DVD is because the show, the set where it is filmed, and the characters of the show have been the only steady part of my life for a number of years. I have moved from one end of this country and back again, and through all of that, I have been watching this one show, this one hospital drama. While my home environment has changed, moved, burned, sold, etc, ER was still there every Thursday night, waiting for me. And once the series ended after 15 years, I still had my seasons of ER on DVD. No matter where I am, including this rundown little apartment, I can forget about it while I tune in to ER. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I know it's a weird fascination, but it's how I roll.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-25732918386107828382010-01-19T18:37:00.000-04:002010-01-19T18:37:54.014-04:00Counting Down the Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbjYucMX1-8qmbu72RHVaNZbRhrzGoGPDAXSxb8ddr8ETxK3xD3M8ZfoIHwmY84mOTkpKJ-vI-rDvK060JRsmex5v7Ny4XoDBpYSq8zSvW0sOWpfJaiLEtfoc1O7k_wF7S1jHWPsMK8DY/s1600-h/ocean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbjYucMX1-8qmbu72RHVaNZbRhrzGoGPDAXSxb8ddr8ETxK3xD3M8ZfoIHwmY84mOTkpKJ-vI-rDvK060JRsmex5v7Ny4XoDBpYSq8zSvW0sOWpfJaiLEtfoc1O7k_wF7S1jHWPsMK8DY/s320/ocean.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The days are ticking off until I leave for the west coast. There are 74 days left until I leave. Wow, that seems like such a small number now. I only have 46 days of work left before the end of my term of employment. I can't wait. I have enjoyed my work, and feel a fair bit more knowledgeable about the field than I did upon arrival here just over a year ago. Now it's onto the next stage of my life. Post-student loan era...I can smell the freedom, it's that close. Sometimes it makes me giddy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Although the fire has certainly influenced my perspective on life, my path has not wavered. If anything, I feel more determined to hit the road and head west again. My daughter is there, as is my sister and her boys, and a great deal of good friends. I've spent so much of my life living on the east coast that I feel I'm due a change of scenery and an improvement in weather conditions. That also makes me giddy. I do worry about the heat, but reckon I'll adapt soon enough once immersed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Driving home from a worksite visit yesterday in heavy rush hour traffic, I was began thinking about how very different Tuesday at 5pm will be in just 3 months from now. I won't be coming home from my current 9-5 desk job. I'll be on the open road, heading west. I come home to this new apartment, and nothing about it feels like home. It is too big for the measly amount of items that are mine here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Moving into a vw bus for a year will be both a challenge and a relief. The smaller space is much less to warm up to, and will be "pimped out" (as my daughter would say) in whatever design I reckon I can stomach for a year in such close quarters. I am thinking I'll stay away from stereotypical hippy bus design. I've seen a few and they look cheap or juvenile. I have been drawn more towards the cooler colors of the ocean - the blues, blue-greens, and emeralds, with a dash of deep purple here and there (cause I have to have some purple). Warm that color pallette up with some natural linens and cotton fabrics and I think it will turn out okay. I just want somewhere I can feel very relaxed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I still have a great deal of prep for the trip, as I lost all of my planning books, my lists, a great deal of my camping gear, and so on. It almost overwhelms me, but then I remember I don't have a great deal of stuff to pack up now, so it should be much less of a physical challenge than past moves have been. Bittersweet realization. But hey, I'm ready to move on now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Tomorrow it will be 73 days.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-41171237425526476412010-01-13T16:00:00.001-04:002010-01-13T16:05:27.039-04:00Pain and Suffering<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHAuovE1QWa7Y_lCZ_3pv7jMXL4coLfRjZTajEQ0uKQA8e-BIcLzC0qohv_NPLSQ_YdB7T4oXKW0p5KJGkidx30VnKUU6LkGIxC2bd9VLq_rbcNPmhBUvfwlBPdY4Z4-oKQ3vgxZZHUM/s1600-h/candacespic1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHAuovE1QWa7Y_lCZ_3pv7jMXL4coLfRjZTajEQ0uKQA8e-BIcLzC0qohv_NPLSQ_YdB7T4oXKW0p5KJGkidx30VnKUU6LkGIxC2bd9VLq_rbcNPmhBUvfwlBPdY4Z4-oKQ3vgxZZHUM/s320/candacespic1.bmp" /></a><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Someone asked me if I was going to sue for pain and suffering. Hmm, I hadn't thought about it really. I'm not really interested in pursuing a lawsuit only to lose. No one gets much in this country, so most people don't bother. However, now that I have been through something traumatic, I see things in a different light. Am I in pain and suffering? It depends on how that is determined. I don't have any real physical pain from that night other than ripping all the skin off my knee when I tripped over a fire hose and a little smoke inhalation. Emotional pain - lots. I cry every single day, and sometimes it turns into sobbing, which I don't even recall doing in a very long time. I've been pretty emotional this past year due to my father's impending death. He passed away in early September. Now I have something new to cry about.</span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiic9UJc1z9RCrzSEoc-gJOUHHD_hFZZjBjQdnZfeVtfJJezJewytn28wIgoIVXF20idq6UZCy8CwTyS-vAoTyJm4ok1lQKFfNUuOMhJvTNjyV46g5r7ImZbbvJ_KKhTztvRYQRaSCe6FY/s1600-h/candacespic6.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiic9UJc1z9RCrzSEoc-gJOUHHD_hFZZjBjQdnZfeVtfJJezJewytn28wIgoIVXF20idq6UZCy8CwTyS-vAoTyJm4ok1lQKFfNUuOMhJvTNjyV46g5r7ImZbbvJ_KKhTztvRYQRaSCe6FY/s320/candacespic6.bmp" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">And I hate crying. I have little control over it, and I despise being reduced to a soggy mess holding handfuls of soggy tissues. Or would that be considered suffering? I sure felt like I was suffering when I was sobbing through filling out my fire claim. It has very little to do with the loss of material goods. It has more to do with lost memories. It also has to do with having to do all of this alone. And the fact that I can't get it out of my head how close to death I came. Sure, I've probably cheated death a few times in the past while passing a semi on the highway, but I don't know that I really was aware as I am now. It sure has me counting up how many lives I've used up like a cat. </span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDht3ql_A970p3EPa4hR3X65P4JVOsBHxa3ZeW-ilpYcDygRgzQhlj20ulFu3_BvGUrFxAC3WhQ4Dt3Us83nxXBJ8dNZnupmfJMI_cshSXnaMTq7B7BkuKi6cBE8gGES1OC3u96oiMIU4/s1600-h/candacespic3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDht3ql_A970p3EPa4hR3X65P4JVOsBHxa3ZeW-ilpYcDygRgzQhlj20ulFu3_BvGUrFxAC3WhQ4Dt3Us83nxXBJ8dNZnupmfJMI_cshSXnaMTq7B7BkuKi6cBE8gGES1OC3u96oiMIU4/s320/candacespic3.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">And then I start thinking about some of the rumors, that the explosion was a planned event. That would mean that whoever blew up the building had no regard for human life, as all of us were at risk that night, not just the intended target, if indeed he was. It's that shit that keeps me awake at night - how fast your life can change without any input from you. That someone else has that ability to knock you off course, changing your life. I know this fire has changed my life. </span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I'm still very much in shock, and surviving on a very basic level. I've been sick this past week so haven't had much contact with other people. I can't believe it has already been 13 days since the fire. It seems like a couple of nights ago. I still wake up in the night and think I am in my old apartment, and it isn't until I slam into something that I remember I'm not. When I'm out and about in my car, I sometimes drive by my new place, heading to the old apartment, before I remember that isn't where I live anymore. Sometimes images go through my head as I envision getting home, putting away the groceries, and settling in on my big chair. Then I remember, oh yeah, the fire. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">There isn't anywhere to sit comfortably in my new place. It doesn't have a living room, so the only place to sit is either on a kitchen chair or on a bed. I was so looking forward to a cozy winter at my old place, and someone blew up my building and that all changed. Does that qualify as pain and suffering?</span><br />
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</div>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-2846756742580065202010-01-13T10:11:00.001-04:002010-01-13T10:28:26.961-04:00Is it April Yet?<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Many people ask the same question about Friday. I've said it many times, particularly when Monday is a rotten day. I ask it of April because January has been so very unpleasant so far. In April I will be hitting the road, heading west in search of adventure. So April is my Friday. I can't friggin' wait. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I've been running pell mell since the fire, obtaining all my various wallet items - driver's license, health card, debit cards, and the numerous points cards. I think I'm gonna let them go. My wallet was too heavy anyway. I've had to replace so much stuff just to set up house for a few months. Much of it came from the dollar store and Walmart, but even that part alone is very draining. I've been buying things with my trip in mind, so things I can either leave behind or take with me. I don't want to buy anything I will have to store in April. I'm hoping there will just be one or two boxes so it's not a huge imposition for anyone to keep them for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Stormy is another matter. I really like him. I have enjoyed hanging out with Stormy for almost 5 years, since he was just a wee kitten. And then I risked life and limb to save him from the fire after the explosion sent him running scared under my bed. How can I leave him behind for a year while I travel? Will he miss me? Probably not is my guess. As long as someone keeps the food and water coming and a clean litterbox, I don't think he really cares who does it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I've also been processing items I was able to recover from the fire. The clothing was no real chore, just rinse off the charcoal bits and dry. I'll take them to the laundrymat for a good wash and they'll be just fine. The solid items were a bit more work, rinsing, scrubbing, and scraping fire mess off them. Some weathered the fire quite well. Others, not so much. The paper and photos were the worst chore. There was so much and I only had a few places to hang things, so ended up putting up temporary clothelines to hang it all from. Some of it I will just photocopy and ditch the crinkled smokey original, but others I'll keep and store in ziplock bags. I have to make sure they are absolutely dry before doing that. it was not an easy chore, sifting through such a soggy mess, seeing what has been ruined.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Now I have a dirty storage unit at U-Haul to clean up. I had stored everything rescued from the fire in there and brought so much at home at a time, as I didn't have enough room to deal with it all at once, and I didn't want bags of smokey stuff sitting around in my apartment. I only brought home what I thought I could process that day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I have to replace my passport too. Dammit. That one is a bigger chore, but totally worth the investment of time if I am to cross the borders. At least I live in a city with a passport office, as there are none in the three northern territories. I was hoping to wait a few days until the bags under my eyes were gone before going for my new passport photos. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The insurance claim has been the real albatross here. I ended up with 39 pages of items for which I had to supply information for - date purchased, where purchased, purchase price, current replacement cost, and where replaced. Easy for some items, impossible for so many others. I owned quite a bit of original one of a kind items. How do you ask for replacement cost on those if they cannot be replaced? In any event, the claim is hopefully complete and they don't come back asking for yet more information. My brain can't handle it right now. Again the investment of time is very much worth it, the issue was whether or not I had the stamina to finish it all. It was rather emotionally draining, listing everything I've lost. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I think the biggest challenge for me has been that I live alone. I don't have a husband to turn to when I can't finish something, or would like a little help (not that I did when I was married, but you get the point), or just a simple hug to tell me it's going to be okay and we'll get through it. There are times when I really miss being part of a couple/family. It can be very lonely. At 2am when I can't sleep because the images of the fire keep me awake, it sure would help to have someone other than Stormy next to me for comfort. Stormy is a great help, but he doesn't give good hugs...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Is it April yet?</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-14741850869613089082010-01-09T02:26:00.000-04:002010-01-09T02:26:29.052-04:00Adding It All Up<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I finished filling out my insurance claim for the fire that destroyed my apartment on New Year's Eve. It was quite a list. I came up with about $5,000 over what I was insured for. It didn't seem like that much until I started to add it all up. Interesting what dollar value is assigned to the remnants of our lives. There are several things lost in the fire that are priceless, if only to me. It was quite emotional when I had it completed and looked back over the list as a whole. I put an asterisk next to the few things I rescued from the ruins a few days ago. There weren't many. When I think about it too much, panic begins to rise in my chest, my heart pounds, and memories of things lost flash in front of me. Then I hear fire trucks approaching and want to run and hide. The snow plow just rumbled into the parking lot with lights flashing, and I nearly pissed my pants. I thought there was another fire. When I think about how close I came to losing my life, and how fast the fire spread (mere moments from explosion to flames licking the sky) through our building, I get the same feeling. When I think about how lucky I was to get out with Stormy and only minor smoke inhalation, I am thankful to be alive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I've been processing the event constantly in my brain. It has become very difficult keeping my mind from wandering back to the night of the fire. I feel like January 1st was more than the beginning of year 2010, but a new chapter in my life, one free from material posessions that threatened to possess me. I could have done without all the drama, and simply downsized yet again. I'm already tired of talking about the fire, but at the same time, feel compelled to continue to process it through conversation with friends, or if I'm at home, with Stormy...(laugh if you must, but you ALL talk to your pets).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I have a great deal of things I rescued from the fire to clean up. They're all over in the storage locker. I had hoped to go over last night and tonight but I have been feeling just rotten with a cold and super exhausted. and now I'm burning the midnight oil. I was resting most of the evening in bed, but got up in a fit of coughing and stayed up for a late night snack. I need to go through those things I rescued, however, I hesitate, just wanting a break from talking or thinking about the fire at all. My mind spins on crises mode. Just the bare necessities can limp their way through my brain. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I will send in my claim on Monday and expect payment by the weekend. Wow. Then what? I am only replacing a few things, so have to determine what to do with the rest. </span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-29622397463229090742010-01-03T20:38:00.000-04:002010-01-03T20:38:47.949-04:00Picking Up The Pieces of My Life<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I still have to remind myself sometimes that my apartment burned down. I've found it comforting to be in my car. Not much has changed about my car. It looks the same as it did before the fire, with much of the same stuff in it. There I can almost forget that I have lost so much that night. Almost. My life experience is very much displayed on my car. There is a bumper sticker about social workers, and a few representing my alma mater. There is one about a cat in heat standing next to the scratching post like it was a hooker under a lamp post. Hilarious, and a few other funnies. There are other cause oriented ones on there, or representing something such as music. Most, however, are from places I've been. Las Vegas. Northwest Territories, The Grand Canyon, Ragged Ass Road in Yellowknife, Dawson City in the Yukon, Chicken Alaska, and so on. Now they are my only souvenirs. All the more reason to return to visit those places again. I also had a great deal of my camping gear in my car. camping dishes, MEC pots, real cutlery, propane stove, axe, and so on. Stuffed in around the dishes were some items I had packed last winter in anticipation of camping with the non-resident daughter last Christmas...they are all Christmas prints kitchen things - tea towel, oven mitt, placemats, etc. Weird.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Also in my car were some other useful items - a pair of sneakers, flip flops, WD40, rope, and a sleeping bag. Unfortunately I had brought my new one I bought this year into the house to store. The old one is too small, as I bought it not realizing it was a narrow fit bag. When I'm in , I can't move. So now I guess that is motivation to lose weight - so I can fit into the only sleeping bag I have. Then I remembered that my dad left his really nice sleeping bag, and I hadn't brought it home from Grand Bruit yet. Perfect. I hope to get that sometime this winter, along with many other things I had packed up in my old house there, and from my parent's home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">It has been a super busy weekend, with so much to do. I felt almost frantic, wanting to power through getting some necessities, so I can relax. I have a hard time relaxing. I force myself, but it doesn't last long. There is so much to do, that it nearly overwhelms me. Then I take a deep breath and slow down for a few minutes, regroup and prioritize. Tomorrow will be another super busy day. I have to get my driver's license replaced, along with health card, bank card, credit card, and so on. At least I have my passport and birth certificate. They were in the firesafe I had in my bedroom closet. Phew. Waiting for a birth certificate would probably just about finish me off. If you don't live in the province in which you were born, you can't get a rush certificate. You have to wait, sometimes for months. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">This loss has also been somewhat freeing. I will strive not to re-accumulate STUFF this time around. I want to hit the road in April if possible, even after all this, so with owning very little, there is so much less to deal with. Each time I have moved, it is dealing with STUFF that wears me down. Moving stuff from one place to the next, selling stuff, packing stuff, throwing stuff out, giving stuff away, and buying stuff, which can be equally exhausting. Sure it's great to have new stuff, but this year, in buying mostly new stuff, I then had to deal with it. Paying for it isn't always the most challenging. Then I had to stuff it into my car, drag it up out of my car over the steps to my apartment, take all the packaging off, try putting it together, and then find a place for it, before sorting through all of the packaging I now had to deal with. Nothing can go in the same place. Styrofoam forms, plastic bags, paper instruction manuals in 17 languages, extra parts, receipts, bags, boxes, staples, packaging materials galore. The only thing I bought that I did not have to put together or do anything with was my sofa. Even my chair & 1/2 I had to flip over and cover the bottom of the legs with non scratching thingys. Which I had to buy also. Stuff may be just stuff, but there is a great deal of work in accumulating it. It doesn't just show up in its proper place ready to use. And I had sold, thrown out, or given away so much up north that I had a lot of shopping to do even for the basics. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">In three days I have already accumulated some more STUFF. But I am being much more discriminating about what I choose to bring home with me. If I don't think I will use it in the next 12 months, it doesn't come in. No more hoarding arts and craft supplies. I just can't drag all that STUFF around with me forever. I haven't used much of it for years. It looks like the quilt I was making for my mother for the past 13 or so years will never get finished. I did however give her my first little hand quilted quilt to have at her house that earlier this year as she didn't have much of her own personal things from Grand Bruit, having left herself in a bit of a hurry with my Dad a couple of years ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Picking up the pieces of my life is going to be a challenge, but I think I am up for it. With less STUFF to deal with, I should have more time to enjoy life. I almost lost my life a few days ago. I have long believed in enjoying every day, and this recent experience will certainly continue to drive that ambition. Life is too short to be bogged down with STUFF. I'm free.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-21089787401564646362010-01-03T09:53:00.000-04:002010-01-03T09:53:51.032-04:00One Last Tale From Dartmouth Cove<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5weq2HhXVi9lbfDq8xd4l3n65VhkoPszpzIvslrklF5B84bt5DuimXKZ-5ekkwuaDRiqXfCBKD8jUomANUmnMx7Jv72mVYSS0m1QxsBHwmWMNl3uee1FvY1fKgk941Q3z66FjOcwOa1A/s1600-h/fire+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5weq2HhXVi9lbfDq8xd4l3n65VhkoPszpzIvslrklF5B84bt5DuimXKZ-5ekkwuaDRiqXfCBKD8jUomANUmnMx7Jv72mVYSS0m1QxsBHwmWMNl3uee1FvY1fKgk941Q3z66FjOcwOa1A/s320/fire+photo.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well, I won't be writing from Dartmouth Cove any longer. My apartment building exploded and caught on fire just after midnight on New Year's Eve. I've lost nearly everything and barely escaped with my life. I did get Stormy out with me, along with my coat and boots, my blackberry and my laptop. That's it. The rest is toasted, literally. You can see the news article about it </span><a href="http://thechronicleherald.ca/Metro/1160304.html"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">here</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">. at the Chronicle Herald site. The apartment on the top floor that you can see the sky through, is/was my apartment. They have the address wrong, but what else is new. I also did not see anyone from the Red Cross there, and I stayed for hours. I luckily jumped into my car when I got out of the house and drove across the street and parked it. I DID have insurance. I was the only one in the building though. I'm bunking in at a local hotel with kitchenette, and hope to move into a furnished apartment later this week. </span><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Not exactly how I was planning to start my New Year.</span><br />
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</div>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-14187941365581019202009-12-28T15:06:00.000-04:002009-12-28T15:06:30.860-04:00Reconnecting with Mother Nature<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZdvnDw5-4stKMlAHQTydAiu_nOwP3SU08bc-XwCSjpT2Q8NbusWwQpqfXbClsccO770FvjAqaANC_IHTrmEFo3YsCeQGELAbyrS7myG8vUZJeNfFslJzIRyHHj38SIVr5f9PA4DPGxBo/s1600-h/Park+walk+late+December+2009+184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZdvnDw5-4stKMlAHQTydAiu_nOwP3SU08bc-XwCSjpT2Q8NbusWwQpqfXbClsccO770FvjAqaANC_IHTrmEFo3YsCeQGELAbyrS7myG8vUZJeNfFslJzIRyHHj38SIVr5f9PA4DPGxBo/s320/Park+walk+late+December+2009+184.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzkoxb4Haqis03rtW4apXZGc0V591ev_i82otIUKhs4xr0O2SGpr1VLd4O43m6YwtOV4zAeUtuFCMjEdwtUDjFaj3LxEq0yOQxqivWAYI_rEOmU6v3f15kvR602wfIRd0Zo4st5nQ47M/s1600-h/Park+walk+late+December+2009+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzkoxb4Haqis03rtW4apXZGc0V591ev_i82otIUKhs4xr0O2SGpr1VLd4O43m6YwtOV4zAeUtuFCMjEdwtUDjFaj3LxEq0yOQxqivWAYI_rEOmU6v3f15kvR602wfIRd0Zo4st5nQ47M/s320/Park+walk+late+December+2009+003.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I went for a walk today in the parks. It sure felt good to get out in the sun. It's been pretty gloomy here the past while with either rain or snow, mostly overcast. There was plenty to enjoy along the way. I clicked so much I drained my battery. It's warm out today, 6C, for the end of December.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-13003977547603365242009-12-28T11:06:00.001-04:002009-12-28T11:07:09.875-04:00The puzzle pieces of my life<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wrote this while I was in Grand Bruit this past fall, but I didn't have internet at home, just my blackberry, so wrote it in Word to post later...then promptly forgot. I came across this today. This was written on October 9th, 2009.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As I revisit my old house in the tiny Newfoundland outport, I have come to realize that there are pieces of me everywhere. I have called more than 30 places “home”. By places I mean the physical structure I lived in. I have lived in a trailer, a high-rise apartment, a few three-storey walk-ups, a number of houses, duplexes, row housing, cabins, a hotel, and at one point in my life, my car. I wasn’t particularly homeless, as I was moving back to the east coast, and staying with my parents until I found a job and an apartment. In each of these places, I had taken the time to settle in. I’m not fond of living out of boxes. As a child, our basement always had a pile of boxes that we walked around, moved from one place to another, and rooted through from time to time. They were never unpacked fully, and often were repacked for the next move. Once I moved out on my own, I tried my best to rid the home of boxes in an effort to feel at home, somewhat more settled. It doesn’t take much to make the starkness of an empty place feel a little more homey. Photos, posters, paintings, wall hangings and clocks are big for making the walls look less bare. I enjoy comfortable furniture, and creating a nestlike environment in the living room. I learned over the years that I enjoyed having certain things around me, and while my tastes have changed over the years, as taste does, I have discarded what doesn’t work and hung onto some things that never lose their charm, adding new things as life goes on. Most things in my home come with a story of some sort, as I refine my decision making regarding what comes into the home. I’ve become more discriminate with my acquisitions as the years roll on, and I’m in my thirtysomething move. I really have to NEED/WANT it before it comes through the door. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Pieces that I don’t have are bits of history I share with people. There are many people that I have some terrific memories with, and it is often only with those individuals I can reminisce. No one else shares that memory. As more of them fade from my life, be it through death, disengagement, or physical separation because I’ve moved YET again, I feel a certain loss. One example is that I won’t ever be able to talk about the many experiences my father and I shared, just the two of us. Camping trips, road trips, building his house together, going out in the boat, or down to his cabin. He and I shared many conversations that no one else was privy to, and now I’m left alone with those thoughts. Other losses are those of my childhood years. I was in 2 Kindergartens, 3 elementary schools, and 4 high schools. No one person went through school with me. No one. My graduating class was not a group of people I grew up with. I had only attended that school for the final year. My friends from my elementary school years remember me just as I last saw them, as an undersized 8 year old. And then I never saw them again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There is something to be said about growing up in the same house, in the same town. Of course, there is also something to be said about not doing so. As apt as your neighbors might be in remembering the fun times, those same people who continue to circulate around you everyday life have very long memories, and don’t hesitate to share some of the more embarrassing history they have shared with you. When I have managed to pitch in one place for more than a year at a time, I have been reminded often of some of those chosen moments…like the time I drove my skidoo across the flooded pond and the engine flooded in the deep water. I ended up standing on the skidoo screaming for help, and my ex-husband’s uncle was the first to hear me wailing. They later rowed an aluminum boat out to get my dumb ass, and then returned to tow in my skidoo, which is still in circulation today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Land and Sea was filming here in Grand Bruit this week, and yours truly found herself in front of the lens. They asked me to provide some historical context given that my father and I had worked together on a genealogy project for years. We began in the graveyard with the headstone of what my father referred to as “the mother of all Billards” as we know them. From there we crossed the breakwater, and stopped outside my mother’s house for an outdoor interview about what drew me to Grand Bruit for all these years. From there we walked up towards the school, where we talked about my father attending school there, as well as helping to build the school that still stands in Grand Bruit. We also talked about my own child attending school there. We walked on over to the museum and ended my portion there. It will air sometime after Christmas and she promised to send me a copy. As well, they are interested in some of the clips I had recorded with my father a couple of years ago, about the old houses here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Last night the crew of Land and Sea encouraged everyone to stop by the Cramalott Inn where they filmed some of our foolishness. I brought over an assortment of alcohol from my father’s liquor cabinet, and shared with anyone who wanted. I partook of that assortment of alcohol, and proceeded to get pretty drunk. About 4am, I was on my knees beside the toilet bowl...it has been quite some time since I drank that much vodka. But I had a wonderful time, was given a Land and Sea hat for my time, and took lots of photos.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It appears that I didn't finish the post, so I'm not sure where I was going with this at the time. The Land and Sea episode will be airing sometime in the new year.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-63017733006005513532009-12-27T14:53:00.000-04:002009-12-27T14:53:53.255-04:00The Life of a Nomad<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Miriam-Webster defines a nomad under #2 definition as an individual who roams about. I've often referred to myself as a nomad, given that I am living in my 31st home. Some time ago on another blog, I listed all of those homes and it was shocking to see how little stability there has been in my life. The one big chunk of time spent in one place was the 12 years spent in a tiny outport in Newfoundland. Now I am considering departing again in a few months, to spend several months at no fixed address other than a VW camper. Am I crazy? What drives me? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I've thought about staying here. Some things seem almost perfect, while others are skewed and do not fit or work for me. My apartment is great - love it, love the neighborhood (despite the violence), love my furniture (for once), and love living so close to the ocean. I do not however, love my job. It works, it pays well enough, but is not at all what I want to do with my life. I thought I would enjoy spending time with so many cousins and ex-inlaws around, but again, I've heard nothing from my cousins, and my ex-inlaws often forgot about me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I have very few friends here, and spend most of my time alone with my cat in my great apartment. I don't mind it for the most part, if I remind myself its only short term. I do miss having close friends though. I have moved so often, that most of the friends I've made in the communities I've lived have all but forgotten me. I have no life-long friends, and really miss that. I have many friends who swore they would keep in touch, even asked for my address, but that was the last I've heard from them. No one seeks me out. They've all moved on. I understand their choice - out of sight, out of mind. It doesn't mean that I don't mind. I mind it very much. I put a lot of work into friendships over the years, and it gets tiring as well as discouraging when it becomes so one sided. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I don't know what the answer is. With this move, I tried a lot in the beginning to settle in, make some friends, and look up old ones. After numerous invitations, phone-calls, and promises to get together, they all fizzled quickly after just a few get togethers. How aggressive should I pursue a friendship? How many times should I believe someone's promise to get together soon, or to call me next week for plans, or that they will call me for the next party they have? None of those promises and many more have ever panned out. Am I just not picking up on cues to frig off?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">It could be that people are willing to invest in a friendship with someone who is expecting to leave the area again. Lame excuse, but entirely possible. I've heard others make similar statements about folks who come and go from jobs. Shitty for me if that's how they feel. I think I'm enjoyable enough to be around, and I don't think I smell too bad. Good friends I have made over the years have been very forthcoming about how much they like me, enjoy hanging out with me, so I don't believe I'm delusional. So what is it that gets in the way of continued friendships? Perhaps with some people, they become comfortable with their current set of friends and forget that someone was interested in pursuing a friendship with them, so find it difficult to fold a new person into the group.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I thought I might get lucky to have a neighbor or two in the building to chill with, but that didn't turn out very well at all...I also thought I would make some friends through work, but they all seem to be very wrapped up in their own lives, with little thought to making new friends. In the past, it has been the best place to make friends to chill out with. Not here in the big city. I'm an outsider I guess. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">And now I'm planning a road trip for several months. I have a feeling I may be very lonesome on the road, particularly since kitty cannot travel with me for such an extended trip. I considered staying here in the city for another year, but without solid friendships to anchor me, it hardly seems worth it to stay. I also do not think I could manage such a dependent relationship from my mother. I'm already ready to bolt...have been for months. After years of living on my own, answering only to myself, being close by to such a needy person has completely drained me to the point that I cringe when the phone rings. I am far too accessible for her, and find myself hunted via msn messenger, email, landline, and my blackberry phone. I know life is hard for her right now, I am fully aware of that. I lost my father, she lost her partner and husband. However, she has tons of people in her life that call her, stop by all the time, take her out places, and offer to help her. So I have been working hard at pulling back. I need to know that she can manage her life without me being so very available. I think she can. Now she just needs to believe it. It has been no secret that I came only to help them out while Dad was in his last months, and to spend time with him until he died. Then to help Mom get settled into a comfortable place where she can move on. So my intentions to leave in April have been transparent since the day I accepted the term position at my workplace. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">So there you have it. The life of a nomad is not easy. </span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-2876408208733982732009-12-27T10:24:00.000-04:002009-12-27T10:24:13.597-04:00Sagittarius<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"If people start to hassle you or give you a hard time about your appearance today, pay them no mind, dear Sagittarius. You have the right to live your life any way you want to. If that means you want to go around the house in an old concert T-shirt and 20-year-old sweatpants, then so be it. Feel free to be whoever you want to be."</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I like it. I like it a lot...</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-84117649155681303582009-12-26T16:18:00.000-04:002009-12-26T16:18:48.216-04:00Christmas Found Me<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVmrw8Fa6BxIjaUJoTmEmI68zbfNm7Du7Qo-Dnr77HXXPfpXzhFER6o-EKKIzOx39GZYQXS57EC_12ZQs_oFKONLDxR8xGEyBZfSzQOA7tuUUbguLMFyqvOkkRrRaIDZHYMTYJZVyCRVM/s1600-h/stormy's+best.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVmrw8Fa6BxIjaUJoTmEmI68zbfNm7Du7Qo-Dnr77HXXPfpXzhFER6o-EKKIzOx39GZYQXS57EC_12ZQs_oFKONLDxR8xGEyBZfSzQOA7tuUUbguLMFyqvOkkRrRaIDZHYMTYJZVyCRVM/s320/stormy's+best.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For the first time in years, I did not move this fall, so woke up Christmas morning in my own bed, in an apartment I lived in all year. I opened my presents the night before...not the same waiting in anticipation for Christmas morning when you're alone with just a kitty to sing Christmas carols to. The non-resident child sent me a djembe drum which I received a few weeks ago. My two favorite gifts from the holiday are my drum and a poster of John (Lennon) in New York from my friend Candace. She knows about the special relationship I have with John...now he stares at me while I sleep.</span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I was lucky enough to be invited for 2 turkey dinners. My brother (GASP!) invited my mother and I for a noonish dinner. The china and crystal were hauled out for the big feast. No sweet potatoes though, darn...and the stuffing was awful. The mood was relaxed though, even if somewhat strained at times. Anything is an improvement on our last little gettogether...my brother was screaming in my face. That was the day we got together to write our father's obituary and biography for the website.</span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My second dinner was with friends, and wayyyyy more relaxed. The turkey was awesome, and so was the stuffing. I brought the sweet potatoes, so was happy with that. Dessert was my homemade apple pie with thick cream and ice cream, followed by fudge. Yum. Then we hang out and groaned over our bloated bellies.</span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I've been vegetating today. The weather is stagnant - no real changes today...just overcast and mild. I thought about going for a walk, but took a nap instead. Lazy as shit today. I think I'll veg out for the rest of the weekend. I'm about due for a break after the busyness of the year. Sometimes it's hard to believe the year has gone by, that I left Yellowknife more than a year ago. That my Dad is dead. I think about him every day, but noticeably less as each week passes. Maybe I'm moving on. Maybe I'm burying it. I had hoped initally that Dad would make it to Christmas and we could at least spend it together after all these years. We last had Christmas together in 1996. And then there's the guilt of not driving straight home from Yellowknife to spend Christmas with them last year. I can't help but wonder about the chaos that surrounded my trek down the western seaboard with the kid last Christmas was karma for not coming home for Christmas. Who knows...</span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">With Christmas comes reflection on the year passed but also thoughts towards the future. Of course, I am thinking of creating chaos once again in my life. My current job is a termed position that ends at the end of March. My tentative plan has been to hit the road once that term is up, provided everything falls into place as hoped. I want to hit the road for anywhere from 6 months to a year if possible. I am selling my house in Newfoundland due to community resettlement, and any plans depend on just how much I get for the house. Who knows where I'll be next Christmas. With any luck, I will be with friends in a warmer climate. Here's to hoping.</span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Merry Christmas everyone!</span><br />
</div>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-65297244867098291282009-11-30T13:54:00.001-04:002009-11-30T13:55:45.939-04:00November Goodbye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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Here we are, the last of November, with December on its tail. The leaves have mostly fallen, with just an occasional tree hanging on. Stormy continues to enjoy the balcony with me. The summer decor and furniture will have to be brought in soon, before the next snow storm. Hard to believe December starts tomorrow when it's 12C today. Some of my flowers are still hanging on!Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-37197124739946435672009-11-29T18:49:00.000-04:002009-11-29T18:49:32.522-04:00Silver Sands Beach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzyN0p1MNviiulxEyQkTC1-4s02qGt8CFPCcU3S9fXuZBTqxH1s7ZhrutJcfmZzTPXiYyv0ueDrYNOqqhieQxUytSHLZsfjAgpuN8gW5dawLEpMwGhqHPFe4B_bMrhOZ0jg1tqWfRV-6A/s1600/Silver+Sands+Beach+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzyN0p1MNviiulxEyQkTC1-4s02qGt8CFPCcU3S9fXuZBTqxH1s7ZhrutJcfmZzTPXiYyv0ueDrYNOqqhieQxUytSHLZsfjAgpuN8gW5dawLEpMwGhqHPFe4B_bMrhOZ0jg1tqWfRV-6A/s320/Silver+Sands+Beach+001.jpg" yr="true" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUv7PleTuFSy6qTWWhp0KqIa-rubphUDA2eYOJhYFevfQxrBHG9jFed8B2W3zHXguPVSyhxOkmWXoSqxpKd2O0rBZgUfMK-NX2ETuXE9UvblnzJYLJV15gkFCHGpOpHLqVV9bwtPDESL0/s1600/Silver+Sands+Beach+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUv7PleTuFSy6qTWWhp0KqIa-rubphUDA2eYOJhYFevfQxrBHG9jFed8B2W3zHXguPVSyhxOkmWXoSqxpKd2O0rBZgUfMK-NX2ETuXE9UvblnzJYLJV15gkFCHGpOpHLqVV9bwtPDESL0/s320/Silver+Sands+Beach+002.jpg" yr="true" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHb6nIAWY6M7iNkztZyV1DVjf1LdtCU_8sgMKnwvjxvXR8fg5CVhW452KASEPzCa3q-JnGQN-Z6YAPESVgJa1he4QwdlMzDBFEG0j08W66Ni87w6ET5Z9udvmh3PzVdaymGieS2TJoGs/s1600/Silver+Sands+Beach+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHb6nIAWY6M7iNkztZyV1DVjf1LdtCU_8sgMKnwvjxvXR8fg5CVhW452KASEPzCa3q-JnGQN-Z6YAPESVgJa1he4QwdlMzDBFEG0j08W66Ni87w6ET5Z9udvmh3PzVdaymGieS2TJoGs/s320/Silver+Sands+Beach+003.jpg" yr="true" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2G54EhyphenhyphenlDSCiRoPfkP85x0CQxbfJKVEQR6J1LjPNCIW8tAphNWuLOl06rGN-zpFMmewAhBYFUQg1W2Q6JKyYnydBIqrY0HYYSxo0vciqESxYXgt5mEfq58WAeAkVWW64MqPqfWrVHbD8/s1600/Silver+Sands+Beach+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2G54EhyphenhyphenlDSCiRoPfkP85x0CQxbfJKVEQR6J1LjPNCIW8tAphNWuLOl06rGN-zpFMmewAhBYFUQg1W2Q6JKyYnydBIqrY0HYYSxo0vciqESxYXgt5mEfq58WAeAkVWW64MqPqfWrVHbD8/s320/Silver+Sands+Beach+004.jpg" yr="true" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The moose has stood next to the Silver Sands Beach for decades. The windmill is also next to the beach and was just whipping around today.<br />
</div>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-64360999145294473742009-11-26T22:37:00.002-04:002009-11-26T22:39:58.547-04:00Saggitarius (That's me)"Today you might be feeling a powerful need to write down your thoughts, dear Sagittarius, but they might prove a bit too amorphous for you to put them into words. You might also have difficulty making contact with friends or loved ones; you may keep missing each other! Getting around in your neighborhood could prove frustrating as traffic is likely to be backed up. In spite of small irritations, however, this should be an enjoyable day. Hang in there!"<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Interesting, very interesting. I know they are quite subjective but once in a while, it can seem to fit with just what's going on in your life. I have been struggling for months with blogging. I used to write pretty near every day. I'm not sure if Facebook is the culprit, stealing my time from blogging to poke, post and comment my night away. It could be writer's block. I've been in a bit of a fog lately, but then again, losing a Dad can do that. My daughter called this evening, but was in the grocery store, and her cell phone kept cutting out, which annoyed the hell out of both of us so ended the call prematurely. As for traffic. It was the worst I've been in since moving back east this afternoon. I had taken my mother with me to my aunt's funeral. My dad's brother's wife passed away last week. The funeral was over by about 3:30, at which point we headed across the city...prime rush hour...ugh. With huge hospitals and several universities and colleges in town, mid afternoon can be super busy. What otherwise would have taken me about 30 minutes, took me about two hours today. I am so glad I do not drive to work every day. I take public transit, with the ferry being my favorite part of the day, particularly in the warm summer sun of the morning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And then we moved onto the enjoyable part of the evening. After depositing my exhausted mother at her apartment, I drove back through rush hour traffic to park my car and jump on the bus to the ferry terminal. I JUST missed the ferry, so had to wait 15 minutes, which was a total drag. The pub was nice enough, the food was great - crispy beer battered chicken breast strips with home made potato chips, and a pint of Keith's light...man that was a good. I met my boss's husband and spent most of the time chatting him up. 2 pints later, I'm racing off to catch the ferry home with two of my coworkers, only to find that we have missed it, justs by seconds...AGAIN. Sigh...so then we struck out to check out the buses. It was still early enough that several buses were running and we didn't have to wait long to catch a bus back to the dark side. I transferred to another bus and was home in short order. Phew.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am rather thrilled with the temperatures. It was 13C when I picked up Mother for the funeral. And now it's still 7C. Very unseasonal for late November on the east coast. It's been raining on and off for days. At least I don't have to shovel rain...and I am still in my sandals and no jacket. Yahfrigginhoo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The new neighbor has been fumbling around below me for days, clunk, bank, slam, crash. At one point, yell, scream, slam, bang...a couple of nights at least, if not more. The problem is, although I can certainly hear the voices below me (of real people) and the house shakes when they bang and crash around, I can't quite make out what they are saying unless they are yelling all of the words at the same level, which they do not. So I get every 4th or 5th word...often FUCK! or JAYSUS! I met her the day she moved in, and haven't seen her since. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The police went roaring by here a few nights ago. Six cars in less than 10 minutes. Turns out someone was shot in a break and enter just down the street on Pleasant, by the refinery. I think he's doing okay, the paper reported non-life threatening injuries.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One more day of work, and the sweetness of the weekend begins. I have to spend most of the weekend trying to get through some household chores that I've been putting off. Friggin back pain is the worst its ever been. Yuck. I'm sure I'll find time to fit in some enjoyment, supposing it consists of no more than finishing off my Stephen King and get started on the latest Wally Lamb, curled up in my teddy bear chair & a half with Stormy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wonder what tomorrow's horoscope will bring.</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872420113151835336.post-79046439008854746382009-11-20T09:33:00.000-04:002009-11-20T09:33:55.823-04:00My Dad's life in a sewing tin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAK9imKpOqrvV4ytHcG0xBeN4dw_usZMDFbyXZPlqjVVo1rMwnUfLQJ16pG68teBBMN2Ei7O8KQSkaW_EJWA5yq_zz16mfHGp7Oi9y0wk_IkAUbrarFEyrfwa2RKb0qTW9V7INqk89Xo/s1600/Dad's+sewing+tin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAK9imKpOqrvV4ytHcG0xBeN4dw_usZMDFbyXZPlqjVVo1rMwnUfLQJ16pG68teBBMN2Ei7O8KQSkaW_EJWA5yq_zz16mfHGp7Oi9y0wk_IkAUbrarFEyrfwa2RKb0qTW9V7INqk89Xo/s320/Dad's+sewing+tin.jpg" yr="true" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I brought my father's sewing tin back with me from Grand Bruit last month. I opened it initially, saw that it looked like it always did and haven't looked since. Today I opened it up again and surveyed the contents. Like many sewing tins, kits, boxes, baskets, etc. it contained much more than sewing related items. The inventory was an interesting glimpse of my father's life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The golden round items at centre are buttons from his RCAF military dress uniforms. Several of his Sgt. stripes pins, along with many other pins, such as IFATSEA - International Federation of Air Traffic Safety Electronics Association and a beautiful crest pin from Goose Bay. The little red heart reads "Place on thy heart one drop of the Precious Blood of Jesus and fear nothing" - Words of P.P. IX (Pope Pius)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The small white item to the right of the Sgt stripes pin at bottom centre is what appears to be a piece of my father's tooth...</span>Dreamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09844355770837802638noreply@blogger.com0