...on the point of collapse...

I'm sorry that I've been falling down on the job. The job of keeping up our blog so that all of you, our readers and fans, can keep up with the day to day changes going on in the life of the Maritime branch of the family. To tell you the truth, there don't seem to be any changes these days. Not that we aren't working everyday on one thing or another. It's just that, like any reno job, every job only leads to another, to another, to another.... I am so tired of living with ongoing mess and disorder! aagh! it's driving me crazy. Have you ever been doing something, and you get to a point where you just can't do anymore, and at that point you collapse in a heap and don't move again for a month? Well, maybe a month is a bit of an excageration but you get the drift. I feel that way quite regularly lately. But our cupboards are due soon and there's still lots to do. So no collapsing yet. Right now, the big project is putting up a tin ceiling and it looks great. I wasn't sure how it was going to look and when we opened the first box and pulled out a tile, I was worried but now that the kitchen ceiling is covered, I love it. Tomorrow we work on the dining room and then I think the following day will be for painting.

While the weather has been pretty consistently cold, Don and Diesel have decided to wait out the winter on the couch whenever there is no project work going on that is. Diesel keeps Don warm (you've heard of a three dog night, right? well we have one dog nights), and also gives him advice on his investments. As you can see, our little mutt is very involved there. Mind you, Diesel wasn't nearly so relaxed today while we were working on the ceiling. Everytime we looked down from our perch on a ladder or the chair, there he was, looking so sad and pleading, "please come down and pick me up." He is so needy. Good thing we think he's so cute. I think we are both wrapped around his little paw.

I think part of the reason that I haven't been writing anything here too, is that after a day of trying to figure out how to accomplish this or that, decisions, decisions, decisions, I think the creative part of my brain is just plain wrung out, nothing left to offer, done. Oh well, spring is just around the corner, I hope, and then there will be sunshine and flowers and trees to plant, all of which will reinvigorate my old noggin. In the meantime, I'll do the best I can and hope that you will bear with me.
So take care my dears and don't forget, you can post comments here too. This can be a two way street you know. Anyway, love to you all til next time.

So Daddy Fixed the Piano Holly...

Do you remember that piano, that worked until you put your mitts on it my dear? Well, this morning, your dad, who is so talented I might add, in the field of repairs, etc., decided it was time to unstick that key. Now if he can just remember where everything goes....

Actually, because none of us plays the piano, and you can't give old ones away, we were sort of thinking that we would do something a little more creative with this one and make it into a china cabinet or something. It has such nice ornamentation on it, so daddy managed to get all the pieces undone without resorting to the saw. Don't you think it will make an interesting cabinet? With the addition of a couple shelves and such. I think it will be very cool. (one more project to add to the list!)

The Beauty of Doing Nothing....

I've been reading another book called "Eat, Pray, Love". It is about a woman who, after a crushing divorce and a failed shall we say, rebound relationship, decides to travel the three I's, that is Italy, India and Indonesia. As a writer, her plan is to write a book chronicling her adventures and experiences. As you may have gathered, she is back from her trip and the book is finished. Else what would I be reading? So right now, I am only in the first part, Italy. The reason that I bring this up, is because, as her reason for being there is to learn the beautiful language of Italy, she peppers the pages with phrases that she loves the sound or meaning of. And when I am reading, I like to jot down phrases or statements that appeal to me and so here is one, "il belle far niente". Now you must, even if you are reading to yourself, imagine that you are repeating it with the most authentic Italian accent that you are able to muster. It doesn't mean that you will be able to decipher the meaning any better, only that you may, for just a moment, leave your life and taste of hers. Anyway, enough of that and I suppose that you are going to begin mumbling at some point, "what the heck does it mean?". Patience grasshopper, patience, for it means, "the fine art of doing nothing".

The fine art of doing nothing. I think the reason that I like it is because it is something that I am learning to do at this stage in my life. I have always been driven to a point. Using my crossed off to do list as proof that I am worth while, that there is a point that I am here, taking up space on this planet. I used to do that all the time, the to-do lists on the backs of envelopes, folded pieces of paper. As I was making the initial list, I often tried to write the projects down in the most practical order of doing, keeping in mind that I didn't want to waste time and as one was being checked off, a new job was added to the end of the list. Then at bedtime, instead of taking stock of the day and giving myself a mental pat on the back for "jobs" well done, I was usually planning what would be on the list for tomorrow. So the fine art of doing nothing was simply not a phrase that had any room in my vocabulary.

But now, I am slowing down and quite honestly, the energy doesn't seem to be there for big, long to-do lists, nor the enthusiasm. Now I am beginning to look around the house and pick one thing that I will tackle at some point during the day, and strangely, that seems to be enough. The year and a half of living in the apartment had a great deal to do with this I think, because, quite honestly, there wasn't enough room to get into projects, so it was sort of a forced learning process for which I think that I am glad. The fine art of doing nothing....

The result is that soon I will have time to make my bread and enjoy the process without feeling like there are other things that I should be attending to at the same time. What seems to happen in those instances is that I walk out of the kitchen after I've mixed up that loaf and it goes completely out of my mind and when that happens....well let me just say that when cooking or baking is left unattended halfway through the process, no one is happy with the outcome!

Speaking of my bread, I finally have worked out a recipes that gives me one loaf that fits perfectly into my little convection oven. Not too big (so that I get two striped burn marks on the top) and not too small (so that your sandwiches would fit into a "Borrowers" lunchbox), just right. Maybe I should call it the Goldilocks loaf.

Anyway, love to you all and I hope that your having lovely days, wherever you are.

When I Was a Little Girl....

When I was a little girl, a very little girl, the mention of going to Uncle David and Aunt Hilda's house made me so very happy. It was so different there, from where I lived and it was so much more fun. To throw things for Lassie to chase, to go on King or Dolly for a little ride, to poke about among the dust and cobwebs of the barn, to lick the cows salt block, even though we were told not to, such are the things that delight the heart of the child that I was then. In my mind I can hear the sound of the steel door mat, clinking on the cement steps just before you walked into the shadowy, gloom of the entry. There is no clear river of memories that flow through my mind, just snapshots of moments in time. The kitchen table sat under the big windows on the right as you entered from the porch and at the furthest end of it was a china cabinet, one of those old cabinets that had the dark, almost tiger striping of wood grain, and the glass on the front was bowed I think. I don't remember the china within, but it was the place where Uncle David always took his little Borax 20 Mule Team and Wagon from. I remember him putting them out on the table in front of us and we could play gently with them but only for a few minutes. Then he would put them away til next time.

What else do I remember? I remember the cows coming in a line from the fields, time for milking and they knew like they had little Timex's hidden somewhere that no one had ever noticed. In through the door and each stepped into her place. The sound of peaceful cows, munching and shuffling their feet was a gentle music to the soul. Through the cracks in the old barn, the sunlight peeked in and the dust floated like the finest glitter. I remember that one or two cows always had their tails tied up to a string that hung from the rafters over their stall. Ladies that found it a little presumptuous that anyone would manhandle them in such a familiar way, determined to protest with a good smack to the ear when it was least expected. But the tail string solved that problem. And I remember the one cow who didn't need a string. Her name was Stinky, who knows why now, but she had no tail and I remember Aunt Hilda telling me that one winter it had been frozen right off about half way down.

And I remember that as Aunt Hilda or Uncle David pulled up a stool, shiny bucket between their knees, often the barn cats would line up like a little chorus line, waiting, anticipating their moment. A warm, white jet of milk might suddenly come their way. A little messy perhaps, but a good reason later on to indulge themselves in the endless ritual of cleaning that cats are inclined to do and for the moment, a wonderful treat. How much milk actually wound up inside a cat is highly debatable, but the possibility of coming away with only a dirty face didn't seem to stop them from putting in an appearance.

The time with Uncle David was the best times of those years in my life. And while Uncle David held my heart in his big hands, Aunt Hilda was there supporting his hands. These are things that I remember when I was a little girl.