WINGS

Every time that I think that I’m about as busy as I can be, some cool, new adventure pokes its head up and says …’Hey! What about me!!’

It happened again. I was just motoring along, adjusting to being away every day and trying squeeze my life into a weekend. All kinds of things have been going by the wayside – this blog for one thing. The painting, organizing, purging and editing that were on the agenda for January & February and won’t make it back on the Master Plan until NEXT January/February, for another. And cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping … all those things have moved way down the list as I fill my day with another type of work. I can live without all those things.

But, regardless of how many irons in the fire, if an exciting opportunity comes a knockin' on the door, I throw it wide open.

That someone was eldest entrepreneurial daughter, Jaime. She sent me an email and said ‘What do you think about this idea.’ Well, the idea was so brilliant and timely and full of potential that I emailed her back immediately & said, ‘It’s not only wonderful, but I want to play too!’


Her idea was to start a woman’s networking group where people could tell about themselves and their business in a “3 minute tale”. She put it on Facebook on Saturday and by Monday, all thirty speaking spots were filled. There were ten ‘gallery’ spots too and they also filled up immediately.

So the birth of W.I.N.G.S. happened last night – quite appropriately, during International Woman’s Week. “Women In Networking Groups SOAR” was well received. The room buzzed with the powerful energy that positive, enthusiastic women create. The diversity of stories and the information was remarkable … every one a celebration of achievement and/or possibility. And what was especially cool was that all three of my sweet and amazing girls were there.


It was such fun. We have envisioned that it will become a very wonderful tool for connecting, networking, sharing, supporting, cheerleading … all the things that every one of us needs. It’s going to make us all stretch and grow. It’s going to be the catalyst for motivation, for new ideas and for new friendships. We both see it.


I’m delighted that she said ‘Sure, come play with me.’ Everything about it is right up my alley. So now, instead of just trying to squeeze in time to create some things for the show at the end of the month, my head is churning with ideas.

Lessons

This weekend, I got to spend time with my favourite nine year old boy, and favourite six year old girl ‘in the whole wide world’. They know that's who they are to me. When they were younger, they would announce themselves at the door: “Nan, your Angels are here.”  Once, when I made the mistake of saying ‘Here’s my kids!’, I was immediately corrected with: ‘We are NOT your KIDS –we’re your ANGELS.’ They still are, but as they get older, I more often greet them with “There’s my favourite ___ year old in the whole wide world!”

What a delight it is to spend time with them.  It always has been, but as they’ve grown it’s been even more interesting to talk to them and learn what’s going on those pretty little heads.

They are so worldly. And they love to talk. I love to listen. We have quite the conversations and their wisdom and insight often surprises me.  They know all kinds of things that I didn’t and my own kids didn’t at that age. By six, Scotty was a proficient and avid chess player. At nine he has designed his own webpage.

I’m always quizzing them on what they know. The other night, the sunset was beautiful, and as is my habit, I was raving about it on our drive home. I said to my wise grandson: “Isn’t that something?!  Do you know what direction the sun sets in?”  “Well, yes.” he replied, in a tone that suggested that it was insulting to even him ask him such an elementary question. “Good for you!” I congratulated. I think I was about 27 when I could remember that, and I had to tie it to an association like 'Go West Young Man'. “What direction is it?” I queried.  “THAT one.” he answered, pretty certain that his elderly grandmother is starting to lose her mind and didn't even know which direction I was looking.

Yesterday, when we were driving along there was an elderly gentleman having car trouble. I drove past, but turned around to see if he needed assistance. I wound up driving him to his home town. When we dropped him off, he offered me money, which of course, I wouldn’t accept. Then he offered it ‘for the kiddies’.  ‘Thank you, that’s sweet – but no.” I insisted.  When we drove away, Scotty said: “I saw that! He was going to give us twenty bucks!! Why did you take it?!” “Because you don’t take money for a kindness,” I explained to him, “that’s what makes it a kindness.”  “You are a very-kind-woman.” my sweet six year old granddaughter said with such maturity that it took me aback. “I like to be kind.” I said. “Yes, I know that about you.” she answered very seriously.  “They could use you at my school. You should come there.” “Why’s that?” I asked. “Do you mean they’re not kind?” “No.” she said matter-of-factly. ”They don’t DO kindness. They’re….”, she hesitated, thinking about the right word.”…. rough.” She thought for a moment then clarified: “They’re only kind if you’re bleeding.”

I wish sometimes that the world would stop and listen to six year olds. Listen to what they’re seeing, they’re learning, they’re thinking.  We are often so tied up thinking that it’s our job to teach them, to fill them with information that we often don't take the time to hear it back. To see what they are observing with their eyes. They're always watching and processing, even when we think they aren't.

They have as many lessons to teach us, as we have for them. Maybe more.

Pretty in Pink

Another thing about Cameron & I not getting to spend much time together recently - our babies are growing. An entire month and not a single photo to show for it. I'm not getting to spend enough time with my kids - big or little.


Fortunately, yesterday I got some time with the wee-est of the crew and I was not about to waste the opportunity. Five months old she is already. Her eyes are getting more striking all the time and she has the sweetest little smile. Our blue-eyed beauty ... the only blue eyes in our whole family.  My Gorgeous Georgia, precious and adorable - eyes open or closed.

And now to get my hands on Spencer!

Window Shots

One of the things that’s going by the wayside with me working all week is my relationship with my camera. She’s feeling very neglected of late.  I’m missing her too.

I’m up and out when the lighting is still good, but since I need to actually be somewhere at a certain time, I have to drive right by all those beautiful, snow laden trees. On the way home, the sun is setting. The white snow and the soft pink sky make the stark and barren trees look even more gracefully artful.  Scenes missed because Cameron is home alone.

I’m going through a bit of withdrawal.

The other day, when I awoke, it was so cold that our bedroom window was covered with frost. First thought … ‘there’s a picture!’

A dozen shots of one single window pane. Yep, that sounds more like my normal life.  Cameron was feeling a bit less neglected, and I was feeling a little more content as well.

Real Job

I got an email from a friend today. She said, “Your blog is stuck.”  Oh my, right she is, indeed.  A dozen times over the past month, I’ve been needing/wanting to do something about getting it unstuck, but I’ve been busy.

I’ve got a Real Job, you see.

And that means that I have entered a place where much of the world dwells – trying to squeeze every bit of the rest of my life and activities into evenings and weekends. It turns out to be not sufficient hours in that time slot to do everything I need/want to do.

The last time that I worked in a setting where I was committed to being in one spot, eight hours a day, five days a week, was in 1979. Really.

Now, don’t be thinking that that’s the last time that I worked. I have never NOT worked. It’s just that I’ve always been involved with things that have me at the helm, designing my own day.

A couple years ago I did work for a whole week at Mazda while the owners went out to our place in Newfoundland.  I loved it. The only work colleague I generally have in my life is Abby, and she’s not much of a conversationalist, so I was delighted to get to be with humans.

Before I spent all my time trying to make a living from my three H's, I had always been involved in work that has revolved around people – social services, volunteer management, and retail. I love having my flexibility and freedom, but I must say that I do miss all the stuff that comes with having other people in your day.

On top of that, there’s nothing that I love more than a new challenge. I am always delighted to get the opportunity to open a new door and meet new people.

The especially cool thing about this job is that finally – FINALLY – my zillion hours on the computer have paid off. I have been helping test an ever-so-cool new software program that has been designed for organizing virtual meetings.

The launch was held at the Fesitval last Monday … what a wonderful event that was. Up to that time, what I was doing was confidential, but now it’s out there in the world. The company is POWERNOODLE, and the folks behind it are dynamic, interesting and fun people.

I’m sure honoured to be there and enjoying every minute of it.  Each day I get to be there is a bonus.

Soon, the party will be over and I will be back upstairs in my Studio. And I will love that too.

Crystal Day

Today was the perfect day for my ‘word’.

It was one of those rare gifts, when you awake to the appearance that the world has been touched with a magic wand; transformed into the most enchantingly and breathtakingly beautiful heaven.

It was what I call a ‘Crystal Day’. Last year we were not gifted with a single one.  I know, I remember.  I longed for one. I watched and was ready – it never came. 

It came today, and nothing would keep me from it.  One must not dally, it is fleeting. The sun and the sky are as important in the recipe of a Crystal Day as the hoar frost. 

There can be nothing less than an Alice blue sky to accentuate the white frost and cast a blue shadow on the snow. Sun is essential. It electrifies the fragile ice flakes – the glint of diamonds dancing: “Look! Here’s your spot of magic … no here.

 No … HERE!”

Such was today.

I didn't have to leave my own back yard to savour it.  I wandered around, camera in hand – of course. A soft blanket of snow had been gently dropped over the farm.   In one way I hated to disturb it with my footsteps, and in another way, it delighted me.

The simplest weeds were transformed into treasures.

Even plain old grass, generally withered and forlorn and nothing to look at, was downright artistic.

The simplest things this day, were worthy of a second look.

The rusty old wire was coated with crystals, so uniform and perfect, that one would not consider disturbing it.

The fences cast blue shadows on the powdery snow - art up and down and all around.

It seemed particularly quiet today.  It made me stop to listen.

It was like the world was frozen in time. Hushed.

Not a sound. A single sound.

That's rare out here.

If nothing else, I generally hear birds.

Or dogs. Or traffic way off in the background.

This morning - nothing.

I listened hard.

 I listened.

To the peace; to the beauty; to the magic.

To the silence.

After I decorated the farm with my footprints, and captured a good many things, I thought I'd go for a bit of a drive and see what was happening in the countryside.  Surely there were a multitude of shots just waiting to be discovered.

I got no further than the corner.  As if by the soft breath of an angel, the crystals began to fall.  If you weren't watching closely, you would not have noticed. It was soft and subtle; gentle and quiet.

Witnessing the dissipation of magic was striking, in how quickly in happened.

I don't believe I looked away, but somehow, instantly, it was all over.

It was like someone flipped the channel.

The sky changed from blue to white; the breath turned to a gust

and it was gone like a dream.

I'm glad that I didn't miss it because I thought it might wait for awhile.

I got to be right in the middle of it. To see it.

And to listen.

Listen

I tend to drive in silence more often than not; a concept that used to have me pretty well hyperventilating.  My ignition was basically attached to the radio knob; it went on before my seatbelt. Brian never, ever has a radio on when he drives and I thought he was downright weird. If for some reason, I was alone in a vehicle with no radio, it made me feel anxious and antsy. I’m not sure how it happened, but now I never think to turn it on. Sometimes it even catches me off guard that it’s an option.  ‘Hey! I could listen to the radio!!’ It is now a treat rather than the norm.

I have found, in silence, that I am a thousand times more observant when I’m driving. That’s not necessarily a good thing, because it’s not the road that I’m observing. It’s the sky and the trees and photographs. I tend to view my surroundings in 4x6. I truly do. I've noticed that I translate my world into what my lens would capture. It’s all light and shadow and composition with a view to zoom and crop. It has become an unintentional obsession that I am searching for the photograph in the scene, as if it is one single piece of a gigantic puzzle.  I’m pleased when I find it, until I realize that I don’t have a camera with me and then the delight changes to regret.

I have grown comfortable with the silence in my car. I see the photos more clearly without the distraction of voices. Other voices - I still have my own that I have difficulty muting. I try to direct them when I get that uninterrupted opportunity. I say: 'Okay, we've got this time, let’s think about how we’re going to get organized, get focused, get productive.’  I force my thoughts in that direction, as it seems that they don’t offer themselves up otherwise. Lately, that file seems to be generally buried at the bottom of an overwhelmingly massive pile.

When my thoughts drift … now actually, that is a totally inaccurate word … my thoughts don’t drift – they jump, they leap, they pole vault, they scramble and tumble. Drift sounds gentle and pensive.  Mine are hyperactive.  I can see those little suckers in there, gorging themselves on chocolate and then running about like maniacs, totally wild and out of control. They are not lazily drifting.  See … I just did it there.  I have totally forgotten where I was going with this.

Oh yes ... I was going with ‘Thoughts’, and how, as I was driving along in the silence, a random thought popped into my head.  “ LISTEN. Your word is Listen.”

‘Say What?’ I responded, because it's rude not to answer. ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘Your WORD is LISTEN.’ Oh yeah … it had completely slipped my mind that for the last couple years I have picked a word. The new year was just on the horizon and it was time again. My mind had not gone anywhere in the vicinity of that subject. It is quite cool when the ‘pop up’ is relevant and timely. It could have just as easily surfaced in mid-March. The message was clear - my word  picked me. It happened like that last year too – also in the radio free zone of the car. Last year's word was EMBRACE.  I did.  The word for 2009 was SEE ... did that too.

For 2011 … I am to Listen.

Listen to the words and needs of others. Listen to the sounds of nature. Listen to my own heart and instinct.  Listen is a soft and gentle word. Hushed.

SILENT and LISTEN are spelled with the same letters.

The radio will remain OFF.

Close But No Cigar

I almost did it. Or at least for a minute, I thought I did.

For the first time in the history of my being responsible for Christmas, I almost had all the presents wrapped before Christmas day.  I was almost ready.

Year after year, for 37 of them, I would find myself on Christmas Eve day feeling stressed and rushed; irritated with myself that I was needing to spend five or six hours wrapping gifts, baking cookies and sometimes still shopping.  Every single year I would growl and grumble at myself and say ‘NEXT YEAR I will have all this done and will leisurely enjoy the pre-Christmas season. I will have everything bought, wrapped, baking done, the house clean and I will sit and bask in the glow of the Christmas lights.’

Has never, ever happened … even once.

When I was surrounded by kids and critters, we lived on fast forward. Constant chaos.  I never caught up with the laundry in 20 years. There was much stuff, much activity; days were a blurr of motion and commotion.  I had to accept that peace and serenity were concepts that were unattainable and unrealistic and for the most part, I didn’t care. But I carried an expectation of myself to give my children the vision or at least the illusion, that Christmas was magical, beautiful and peaceful- for even the briefest of moments. Just the calm before the storm, but a glimpse of possibility ... "how-things-could-be".

It’s that darn television’s fault.  All those people – perfectly ready when friends and neighbours would drop in … house sparkling, stockings hung; them - all pleasant and smiley in their Christmas prettiness … hair combed, make up perfect and children sweetly smiling in red velvet dresses and socks that matched. I knew it even smelled good in there – like freshly baked gingerbread cookies. Never scotch tape and wrapping paper strewn everywhere, mish-mash piles of plastic bags with unwrapped gifts, and plain old ordinary, grilled-cheese sandwich life happening.

We’d get home from church about midnight and I would stay up for hours, making sure that when they awoke and came downstairs, that the Christmas tree would be lit and every single thing would be in order. Peace on Earth. Santa’s treasures would not be obstructed by clutter and disarray. Goodwill to Men. And Women. And children. And dogs. And EveryTHING. In all likelihood it was for my own need to achieve order and serenity for one single moment in the year, but what I envisioned  was that my brood would have warm and wonderful memories of the magic of Christmas, and that somehow would make up for the bedlam the rest of the year.

NEXT YEAR, I would tell myself ... I will absitively, posilutely be organized and ready DAYS ahead.  Perhaps even WEEKS ahead. After all,  I have had a fair number of runs at it.

I did truly, honestly believe that THIS was going to finally be NEXT YEAR. Three full days before Christmas Eve, I started wrapping gifts. I even put names on them so I didn’t have to re-open them because I couldn’t remember what they were.  I was downright giddy with the vision of being In Control. I truly thought that I was. I was congratulating myself and doing a Happy Dance. Joy to the World!!!

I’m not sure what happened.  There seems to be a chunk of time dropped completely out of the space between that day and Christmas morning.  A time warp tricked me into a false sense of sanity.

In the end, I was worse than ever. I was not only wrapping on Christmas Eve AND Christmas morning, I found myself for the first time in history, coming down to a regular weekday messy kitchen. For the last few years, I have been quietly reflective on Christmas morning, thinking about how things have changed with the kids gone. This year I didn’t even get to sit down for a cup of coffee. I do not know what made me believe that I had things under control; obviously I was hallucinating.

I was up at 7 am, working like a maniac, trying to pull things together by the time the crew arrived in the afternoon. It was a re-run of the nights that I would be scurrying around, vacuuming at 3 o’clock in the morning. I still wanted them to walk into something that looked like a television Christmas. I also wanted to be able to sit down and visit instead of the indelible image I have of my mother-in-law never leaving the kitchen or enjoying her company during holiday gatherings.

I was spinning. By the time of the expected arrival, I had cooked, carved and cleaned up the mess of two turkeys, had the gravy made and potatoes and turnip mashed and every dish done.  It was exhausting and crazy, but the transformation and order was shades of Christmas morning past.

They all walked in moments later. Was I greeting them at the door with hugs and happiness? Oh no. I had just got out of the shower - wet hair, no make up and trying to wrap last minute gifts on my bed. I was feeling tired and old and crusty and was ready for a nap. With grace of God, I hopefully will get another stab at it.

NEXT YEAR.