tracied

A modern on the inside version of the hobbit house, a famous vancouver home....is for sale.

That is what nearly 3 million gets you in vancouver folks.

last call for aprons, smock or regular, or other sewn (not dolls) crafts before christmas.

$15/each plus shipping.

Google wave anyone? I have 8.

Well up here anyway:

That to the left, is our ski hill.
( come with me )

After that, we used our season's passes to get us 20% off at the starbucks for hot cocoa, came home to turkey enchilada soup. Next time? We ski!

Last night, A. said that I should put this up everywhere, as a reminder of why I am doing what I am doing, to motivate me every day to success.

So I did. Next, I will put a sticky in the bathrooms, above my dresser, in the kitchen.....and I am telling everyone, that THIS is what he thinks of me, what he is saying, so that those who DO believe in me will have further reason to keep cheering me on.

( my whiteboard, right at my front door )

Course the video doesn't really speak about me.....but I'd be happy to look like her. LOL

want.

No.....NEED.

And next order of importance. Hair.
( which to choose.... )

I've sinned. It's been four months or so since my last hair cut.

He would rather blame me for all the wrong things in him, and in his life, than take responsibility for his own failings. He hates that fact that I am seeing success in my life, slow that it may be. He hates the fact that he has no emotional power over me, and can't control me anymore. Withholding money is the only thing he has over me to try and make me do what he wants. He hates that I am happy while he is not. He hates that I have real, true friends in my life, not these false friends, these boy toys to play with who are using him because he has money, to make him feel better about himself and cooler than he is. He hates that I am moving on with my life, forming my own career, maintaining my health and home and emotional wellbeing, and that unlike him, I am not depressed and medicated just so I can look in the mirror. Best line: "The defendant has not had any prior training or notable experience in photography and I do not believe that this will provide her with stable, gainful employment." And that is his business, relevant or even true how? And a one year of full-time professional training from which I graduated with A's, two weddings thus far since graduation in March, and getting clients in family photography over the past year, while still in full time school, are not notable experience? Or the fact that I am doing better at this, and actually seeing more clients come in than I ever did as a doula is nothing? He's an arrogant ass. Sticking to my plan and working with someone, is paying off and one day soon I will be bringing in stable, gainful employment. And? One day I will make more money than him.

I think I am going to make this public. Why? Well he's made it very clear that he has been checking up on me over the past few years, making creepy calls to doula associations and hospitals to see if I am registered as a doula, and reading and copying portions from my old public blog. That is very stalkerish. If he is so intent on stalking me, then stalk this asshole.

Here

More coming.

I drew this. Excuse the lame attempt at drawing. But this is what I am playing with for my inner arm. I think it is is pretty self explanatory; things that are important to me. Joshua 1:9 is my favourite verse in the Bible and holds a lot of meaning for me.
( clicky )

Maybe one day I will be able to afford it. I am thinking maybe a christmas present to myself.

Go here. You can download the whole album for free (but pay if you can). Pretty sweet band. My cousin is in promotions and this is one of the bands she is promoting.

I've been thinking about things. Faith, lack of faith, words, writing, love, sex, touch, staring at the sea that goes on and on and on and feeling my feet firmly planted in the sand, my home, my heart, the air that sustains me.
It's all a jumble in my mind and the words are edging into my periphery, forcing their way out, running through me over and over. It is time. These times come infrequently, but they still come, and they don't last forever, and so I know that I can't ignore it, I must write. These are the times where words and thoughts and sensations and inner voices battle over each other in a push to get out, onto paper, into logical formation to tell a story. Their story. The characters who lurk in my inner parts, waiting for me to embrace them, pick them up, dust them off, let them speak. I hear them, I see the words, like light and air and sound all as one billowing, endless form.

I am thinking about waves. The sea that I can never leave is such a part of my core, who I need to be, who I refuse to suppress. I feel the need to go away. Alone. Just me, and these characters and lovers and family and past and present and future. I feel a calling to run away, plant my feet on the sand, lift my face to the wind and breathe deeply, letting it flood through me, that air that only those who live by the sea and love it can understand. It is these times that I am purged and made new.

Other things that have running through my brain and heart are in the form of inner drumbeats. I am becoming more and more in touch with my heritage and what it means to be from a culture that values their elders and the wisdom that is passed down, and a culture that respects the world and environment around them, treating it with reverence. I feel the calling of the mystical, magical wonder that is ingrained in my culture. Oddly enough my people are not from the sea. They are plains people, nomadic, hunters. But the sea is in me regardless. Two halves. One complete, living and breathing self with a Métis heart and the sea a cradle for my soul.

So I've been thinking about things. And not thinking about things. Some things so pressing on me like a weight that threatened to drown me, are no longer burdening me. Maybe it is denial and avoidance, or maybe right now it is the sights and sounds and smells and words that continue to roam about my brain. They want out. I have things to say, there are characters who need a voice. And only I can give it to them. I am coming into a writing stretch again, and I don't know how long it will stay, but ignore it I can't. I feel my brain begin the opening and stretching wide to embrace and release words. I mustn't let the window close.

There is peace and there is no peace. My faith is non existent at the moment and I am not sure why. Maybe as I follow this path to the end answers will come. Words have always been easier for me written down. As have feelings. Maybe my faith needs to be explored this way. Or maybe this unsettling sense of being alone in the universe while others have such a deep relationship with the creator is a season in my life. I don't feel sad, or disappointed, angry or abandoned. For now. I don't feel anything. Ambivalence is a dangerous path I know, so I will step carefully, and let these words out. And maybe I will find my way back into God's arms. And maybe I will discover a way to let this jumbled, pressing and beautiful need stay a constant and steady part of my life, because I miss it. I really do.

And as I think about these things; work, love, family, lovers, touch, music that moves me, sights that thrill me, sensations that flutter through me in a vibrating swirl of activity, my heart will expand and grow and the characters who seek freedom will break out from their hidden places. And words, the words that wake me from a dead sleep or stop a thought or chore with their sheer weight and importance, I will write them down. Even if it is on scraps of paper, or in my journal, or in a sentence, paragraph or poem. This is how it is with me, always has been. The weight of a word, leads to a whole entire voice. If I don't ignore it, or push it away.

Chicken, and corn soup with lime. Recipe.


I added crumbled feta cheese to it, and served it over tortilla chips.

With cheese and salsa quesadillas. To be all Napolean cool, say it like this: kaysadilla. LOL

I meant to note this a while back, but forgot. Books. Good books. I read the most amazing, bizarre and well written book not that long ago. The First Blast of the Trumpet Against The Monstrous Regiment of Women. So good. Long enough title, but when you read it you figure out why the title is significant. I love this author.

Another book I just picked up at Salvation Army the other day- The Colour of Dried Bones. It's a collection of short stories written by an Ojibway woman. Beautiful stories. I am a huge fan of short fiction. Love the tight, concise writing of a good story. My area of specialty in writing is short fiction, and so I have a special love. Just enough of a bite to chew, savour and not have to wait forever to get to the end. I have a problem with delayed gratification...

I picked up 4 books at the thrift store for $4. They were on sale for a dollar a piece that day. I can't resist a book sale. ;-)

So I was thinking about books, and reading, and I decided to make a poll. Would anyone be interested in a book swap? I know I have a bunch of books that I have read and enjoyed but likely won't read again, and I was thinking what better way to deal with them, than to swap. It could be a permanent swap, or a library type deal. I know if it was limited to paperbacks it wouldn't be expensive to mail either.

So onwards to the poll. Ignore the one that says "answer". I noticed that too late.
Poll #1479837 Book Swap
Open to: Friends, detailed results viewable to: Friends, participants: 4

Would you be interested in a book swap?

What sorts of books are you interested in?

If interested, are you willing to mail to Canada/US?

How often should we swap?

Tuna melt on Naan bread with creamy tomato basil soup: