Yes, I'm supposed to be packing

but of course, i need to cheer myself up with a little procrastination.
things I love:

laughing so hard i cry, or pee my pants
a good loud fart in public (not at church though- and not my own fart)
the smell of the gaffer's hair
gaffer's giggles
the smell of my rockstar husband after a day of cutting trees
my rockstar husband's hands. they are so strong
thick snowflakes falling softly on me
the smell of fresh dirt
cleaning my garden beds
sweeping snow off my step with my magic broom
a good book and chocolate
chocolate
a yummy martini. dry, extra dirty, four olives, no ice but freezing cold, gin.
yummy wine
food in general
a moment of tenderness with God
music that moves me
painting an awesome picture
running as fast as i can (i can't go far, but still)
a phone call from someone just to tell you that they are thinking about you
cards in the mail
flowers
falling asleep on the wharf at the cottage with the water lapping and the sun making me groggy
lying on a raft in the water and wearing goggles to find treasures in the water
walking on any beach
the ocean
the sun
the big moon
getting caught in a crazy rain shower in the middle of summer
buses that sing
when my friend b sings
when bella smiles at me
when i can share my dreams
when dreams come true
when prayers are answered.

the buses are singing

from where i live now, you can hear a bit of traffic out the back. my home is on a corner intersection, one that gets a lot of cars, firetrucks with their sirens wailing, and buses.
in the summertime i'd go walking along the quiet streets and then i'd hear the singing. i didn't know what it was and i'd try to catch if it was a radio, someone playing their flute....and i'd try following the sound. never occurred to me that there were more songs during rush hour.

and then i figured it out.

as the buses come around the corner, they stop at the stop sign. as they proceed through the intersection, they have to turn left or right. when they turn left, a cross breeze catches their bodies, and makes a light toooOOOOOooooooo. and then you hear the gears shift.

never thought i'd hear anything beautiful in the city. but there you go.

Kissing Mr. Darcy

Oh yes, I do mean, THE Mr. Darcy.
Dreamt it was many many many years ago and I was the captivating, yet shy/bold Elizabeth Bennett but in a twist, Mr. Darcy was loved by my sister. So how could I possibly have feelings for him? As I came into the hallway of his beautifully decorated home, I began dusting (?) his pictures in the front hall. He came into the hall and I teased him about the dust, saying it would never do for my sister to live in all of this dust. He laughed and then hugged me. I have to say that Mr. Darcy was QUITE taller than I was (a feat if any, as I'm 5'6 1/2) and I hugged his waist and felt his chin on top of my head. ( I don't quite know in actuality what that feels like) And as I looked at one of the pictures in the hall, it was a picture of me wearing a boot upside down, on top of my head. (?) Then I looked up at him and he looked down at me, and then KISSED me! It lasted a second, and then it was over. And I was completely mortified because of my sister being in love with him, but I was so happy because Mr. Darcy chose me!
And then I woke up.


For the record, my husband kisses waaaaaaaaaaaay better than Mr. Darcy ever could. Just so you know...

Wish I Were Brain Dead

Can't stop thinking. Spent way too many hours yesterday painting rooms. Sorry, cutting rooms. Gorgeous husband rolled for me. Actually did 5 rooms. Felt tired. Came home. Had bath. Lay there lie a comatose. Bed at 9pm. Awake at 12. Why oh why do all the thoughts in the world come at this time? I filled the humidifier, snorted some spray, moisturized my hands, Vaselined my lips, told gorgeous husband to stop snoring. And then lay there wondering...will everything be done on time? do i have enough days to pack? why am i not completely packed yet? what am i supposed to make for dinners? why oh why did i eat Chinese food, then doritos, then lindt chocolate? why do i have to keep peeing? what are my parents doing? so i stopped and prayed. and kicked hubby out to spare room.
spent today painting again. however, i got to experience first hand the joys of rolling. it took me 6 hours to cut and then roll two rooms. 6 hours! i felt horrible! i felt tired! my muscles feel like yucky rocks instead of lovely muscles. and yet. as I'm home, relaxing, winding down as gorgeous husband stayed behind to roll the kitchen again, I'm trying to pack. but do you think i can actually pack? noooo....had to go on ebay to see if my vintage place mats were worth anything (4$). Had to check my email again, just in case. Had to pet the dog. Had to look in the pantry and wonder just how old some of the food is in there....and now I'm upstairs, trying to shut me down. not happening. body not functioning to brain's commands. brain won't stop thinking....i think i may have to drink very bad tasting wine tonight to turn off brain....

incidentally, worry wart dog is now sporting red, blue and yellow on her tail from worrying against the walls i painted...i wonder how long 'till it wears off?

of firefighters

huh. big fire today in my husband's district. on his shift. four firefighters got hurt.
but my husband just happened to be off this week. so i worried for his fellow workers. i know them well. i know their families well.
a friend called me to ask if husband was working and i said no, and then found out later he was checking to see if it was him.
how would i feel if i got the call? your husband has been hurt. he's at the hospital. deep down i know i wouldn't be scared. i'd be really really concerned, but i know he'll always be ok.

none of his firefighters were hurt. it was the other station. and i felt horrible because i was so relieved.
i made my husband promise that he would always call right away so that i wouldn't hear on the news about it, or have someone call and say, hey, is the husband working at that fire? did he get hurt?
i'd hate that.
but husband said you don't want the fire chief's car pulling up in front of your house. they always give you bad news in person. i'd probably lock the door and tell him to go away, he's got the wrong wife.
i'm so thankful to God that everyone is ok.
so again, i put it from my thoughts. husband will always be ok. he's very good at his job. he loves his job. and i trust him. but mostly i trust God.

Another Poignant Moment

I got to sit with the gaffer, watching Hercules and eating his baked vegetable chips. He was snuggled right up against me with the big gray fleece blanket covering our legs. Hercules just found out that his parents had found him and decided he had to go and find out who he was. As he left, his parents waved him off and his mom wept. And I cried. I sat there, holding my little guy so tight, smelling his amazing hair smell, and I cried. I don't want him to grow up. I want to take care of him as a little gaffer forever. I know realistically that I'll be pleased as he grows up, accomplishes stuff, gets married, has kids...but you know what? That moment of sitting with him, is now gone. Sure I might sit again with him tomorrow night and do the same thing, but I'll probably be thinking about decorating the house, or how to get more packing in while he's sleeping. So now I weep because as sad of a moment that it was, it really touched my heart and I don't think I will ever forget what he smells like, or feels like, or how his little hand holds mine when he wants me to follow him. Or the way his fingers twiddled Smedley's tail as he holds him tightly to his chest and drinks his milk bottle. I am so blessed to be able to experience this. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Love you bebe.

Packing

I'm packing some boxes this morning, but it's taking longer than it should because I'm throwing things out as well. But I'm reading things too. I came across a journal entry I had written while I worked at the garden center. it says:
"An older woman came into work, and she was hobbling along on crutches quite painfully. She had had an operation over the spring because she had slipped on the ice in the winter. And as terrible as she felt, and as much pain that she was in, she just had to buy grass seed. So I explained which seed she should use and where. When I asked her why she was doing this, being on crutches and all, she said that her husband took great pride in his lawn, he kept it immaculate. And now that he was gone, she wanted to keep it immaculate too..."

Chickens

I like to see myself as a healthy eater. Besides the 'Survivor' night of destroying a bag of Doritos, I do pretty well.
I've been buying Omega-eggs from the store. Full of nutrients and good for you, they say. But my farm-girl friend B, has started her own chicken colony. There are about 10 or so (probably less or more) and they all have names. B's daughters like the chickens. They think the chickens are pets. These sweet little laying hens have a good thing going on. They get fed choice morsels from the garden. They get music played all the time (I think they favour rock music). R goes out and reads to them. So when I get the joy of having some of these eggs, they are pretty darn good. I had an omelets made with them yesterday, with freshly chopped chives, red peppers, mushrooms, cheese, all fried up in organic butter. It was amazing. Today I decided to finish off my 'Omega-eggs' and had the same extras thrown in. The yolks were a funny colour. They cooked too quickly. They were a strange yellow when they were done. And the taste...well, I won't go there. I had to slather them in ketchup.
But I've decided that I will no longer be buying store bought eggs, no matter how many omega's are shoved in there. I will never say no to an omelets made by a laying hen who knows the virtues of 'Black Stallion' and 'Little House on the Prairie'. How much more wholesome can you get than that?

Dirt

While I did my grocery shopping at the Loblaws, I noticed a stand selling perfumes. I usually eschew perfumes, preferring my own brand of patchouli that I've been sporting for years. (I gasp in shock as I realize it's been 13 years...) However, these brands had odd names. 'Orange dream, Angel Food Cake, Chocolate Chip Cookie, Dirt...' dirt? I smelled it. It smelled exactly like a freshly opened bag of soil. It immediately brought me right back to gardening. (an intense passion of mine-however there are so many) I sprayed my arm. I inhaled lightly. Indeed. I smelled like I had spent the better part of a morning gardening. I had to try the Cookie one on my other arm (how could I not?) Yes, it smelled exactly like fresh baked oven cookies. but is that really safe? i mean, i am watching what i eat. and my son might start munching on me, and given that we're working on the 'no-biting' rule...i smelled my 'dirt' arm again. i had to have it. it's february, it's cold, we just bought a new house so i have no idea what seeds to buy from vesey's yet...i smelled again. it brought me back to university where i had the fantastic job of managing the greenhouse. i definitely took that job for granted. i smelled again. i was brought back to the garden centre where i supervised for a few years. removing new flats of annuals from the trucks and then eating my lunch with soil permanently imbedded under my fingernails. spending hours on a super-hot day just cleaning up the perennials. making them beautiful so they'd have a better chance at finding a home.

so i bought it.

i also picked up a container of huggies lotion for my son. he and i have been suffering horribly with extra-dry skin, and nothing is working for it. aveeno, oil, avon stuff. i unpacked it when i got home and decided to try it out on me. it smells of lavender and chamomile. to put him to sleep of course. my skin loved it! it just sucked in all of the moisture and has finally stopped itching. all for 3$ a bottle! of course now i smell like lavender and chamomile. oh well, it'll fit in with the smell of dirt.