Well, this is certainly an unexpected development.
As you may know, OtherHalf has been mostly self-employed for the past year, since we finished the chapter of Adventures at Blue Lake. This has been marvelous in many ways - I've always loved having him working from home so that I can hang around with him any time I want, or get him to hang a picture or pick apples or whatever. (Inside joke ;)) Monetarily, however, doing odd jobs is not terribly dependable, and hasn't really done much to further goals of independence or future security. Not that money is the most important thing - far from it - but as we cinched our figurative belts a little tighter I could see that the uncertainty of this lifestyle was weighing heavily. On all of us.
I've always found it hard to walk the line between trusting God to supply all our needs and the old axiom "God helps those who help themselves". Now, the first principle is backed up by scripture, which I believe and trust, and the second is made up by people. 'Nuff said. But have you ever seen that corny old Christmas movie - I can't remember the name of it but there's a stop-camera animated squirrel named Rupert that is living in the attic of this old rental shack, and a poor family moves in around Christmas time. One day the mother is praying fervently for money for new shoes for their daughter, and suddenly a flurry of cash pours down on her. The family (though eccentric and unpractical) is truly kindhearted and they do all sorts of good in the town with this new-found wealth, which seems to turn itself on regularly when the mother prays. However, those of us on the other side of the tv screen know that this money is in fact being shoved into a baseboard by the wealthy miser next door, and then it falls into the attic of the shack, at which point Rupert the squirrel tosses it all down from the ceiling onto the clueless people below. My point is, we did have squirrels in the attic at Blue Lake but all they did was run around and make things smelly and really didn't provide a viable income. And this house is quite squirrel proof, so cash flow is obviously at a minimum.
in ANY case. OtherHalf decided to look for gainful employ, and in the end, the job that panned out is in Boyle, Alberta. That's about 900kms from here. That makes a pretty long commute.
So it looks like we'll be shoving off once again. Now, I sat down with pen and paper and shuffled through my dusty memories... here's some numbers:
I'm 34. 35? No, I think I'm still 34.
I counted up all the moves I can remember. I included my year in college, because it meant taking much of my belongings, and making new friends, community, and joining a new church. That all counts as a move. And I counted moves to new houses in the same community, because it meant packing and unpacking everything we owned, and that counts as a move 'cause it's nasty.
I DIDN'T count all the moves that happened when I was a baby - but there were lots, even interprovincial ones. I didn't count these 'cause they didn't affect me at all, I was merely one more thing to pack.
And I've got 17 moves under my belt. Wow, that's one every two years. They weren't that evenly spaced though - I think when I was in grade two our move to the Okanagan valley only lasted 8 months. And our honeymoon job and home was housesitting for a sheep farm near Rimbey - that was only 4 months. (Praise the Lord! We never would've lasted any longer than that! That one brief period of time has instilled in both of us a life-long hatred of sheep.)
Both MotherDear and I have become real professionals when it comes to moving. She's naturally efficient and practical, so she's much better than I; I still tend to forget to change addresses on magazines and stuff like that, but as far as purging, organizing, packing and loading - we've got it down to a science.
I hate that.
Growing up with this pattern, I've really become a hit-and-run kinda person. Get in, get out, nobody gets hurt. It got so bad that there came a point where I would debate which items to unpack. We've been in this house for a year and I just unpacked two more boxes last week. Just in time to repack them. And I really didn't mind much, it was what I was used to. Seemed natural.
As you can see, this is all in the past tense. Because something changed in me over the last year or two. I've started to long for permanence. I want to erase even the option of moving. Pick a spot. Get a mortgage. Make a commitment. Stop looking over the fence.
So we started looking around here for our little piece of heaven. Lots to choose from - BC is the most beautiful place on earth.(It says so on the sign.) Prices range from Ha!As if! to Ohwowneverinamillionyears. Jobs range from I'llpayyouwithmilkandcookiesifyou'relucky to goaheadandbeoneofthetenthousandthatapplied.
So off we go to Boyle - possibly because when I was there for my brother's wedding last summer I said "what a vomitous town. I would never live here." When I said it I had that little niggling in the back of my brain you know those people who say they'd never be missionaries to Africa, right?
Ha. Funny.
Anyway, the whole thing was sudden and surprising. And we've been in this community and church for six whole years. Six. I've never lived in one spot for so long before. So I really didn't realise how awful it is to have to tell true friends that we're moving 10 hours away. My deeply ingrained love of change and excitement of moving is struggling to surface, but this new grief over tearing out the roots that've crept down for the first time threatens to overwhelm.
The other day OtherHalf said "I guess this sort of throws a wrench in your Six Month Success Plan." I hadn't even thought of that.
I guess time will tell.
Friday, 13 January 2012
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
The Heart of a Dog
My cat is just about the funniest person I know.
wait a minute! you're thinking. She's supposed to be PAINTING today! What's she doing blogging?!
I know, I know. I gessoed the canvas this morning and I'm waiting for it to dry. I also washed the dishes and even scrubbed the scalded milk off the stovetop. Sigh. This productivity thing is catching.
The funny thing about blogging is that one starts to narrate one's own life as it's happening. Has anyone else out there noticed this phenomenon? I wonder if professional authors do this, too. Maybe that's how they find so much detail to put in their novels. I prefer writing poetry - really crisp, concise poetry, like e.e. cummings. If I try to write anything longer than a short story it just peters out 'cause I resolve the plot and it's over in three pages. But novels have all these great details and character thoughts and stuff. Maybe if I blog long enough all this self-narration can turn into a book. Maybe I need to carry around a tape recorder and start narrating out loud. Maybe I'm delusional thinking that anyone is interested!!
But my cat. This is not going to be part of the cats vs dogs debate. That's like comparing apples and lug nuts. Completely different entities. The best thing is to have one of each (cat and dog, not apple and lug nut) and enjoy the qualities each one brings to the table. But presently we only possess (are possessed by?) a cat. Gummi Bear, technically, although no-one ever calls her that. She speaks a tonal language anyhow, and only responds to the right tone of voice, no matter what the name is. Well, our patio door opens onto the deck, and there's a wingback chair outside the window over the kitchen sink. So as I was washing dishes and gazing at the rare sunshine and blogging in my head suddenly there pops up a calico cat face sporting a big fat dead mouse. She gets this crazy look on her face, eyes open in perfect Os, ears perked, neck stretched out, and I can see that she's meowing in a muffled way with her mouth full. She's staring into my soul and trying to mind-meld with me so that I'll open the door. So I do go to the glass patio door and she's there before me, thinking she's won. When I reach for the handle she nearly concusses herself bonking into the glass, assuming I'm letting her in. Her and her bigfatdeadbloodymouse. And then she gives me this look. You've seen it on lots of people, I'm sure. The one-eyebrow-raised "What the heck? What's your problem?" look. And I replied with the "you know perfectly well. Drop the mouse." look. So she did. But then we became engaged in this artful dance of slideopenthedooracrack and lookaroundshiftyeyedandgetreadytograbthemouseagain countered by whiskthedoorshutagain and innocentsweetypiepleaseletmein face. Eventually she got disgusted with me and started throwing the mouse up in the air and against the glass, partly so I could see the fun I was missing, and partly so I'd have to wash the window again. Snort. Again. Like I ever wash that window!
But I'm just saying. These are the kinds of extremely important tasks that occupy my existence. Who else is there to listen to the cat telepathically? Who else is preventing dead mouse invasion? All the while, multitasking to no end, writing the story of my life on the notepad of my brain.
Anyway, I think the canvas is dry. Oh boy I'm so excited I can almost taste it!
wait a minute! you're thinking. She's supposed to be PAINTING today! What's she doing blogging?!
I know, I know. I gessoed the canvas this morning and I'm waiting for it to dry. I also washed the dishes and even scrubbed the scalded milk off the stovetop. Sigh. This productivity thing is catching.
The funny thing about blogging is that one starts to narrate one's own life as it's happening. Has anyone else out there noticed this phenomenon? I wonder if professional authors do this, too. Maybe that's how they find so much detail to put in their novels. I prefer writing poetry - really crisp, concise poetry, like e.e. cummings. If I try to write anything longer than a short story it just peters out 'cause I resolve the plot and it's over in three pages. But novels have all these great details and character thoughts and stuff. Maybe if I blog long enough all this self-narration can turn into a book. Maybe I need to carry around a tape recorder and start narrating out loud. Maybe I'm delusional thinking that anyone is interested!!
But my cat. This is not going to be part of the cats vs dogs debate. That's like comparing apples and lug nuts. Completely different entities. The best thing is to have one of each (cat and dog, not apple and lug nut) and enjoy the qualities each one brings to the table. But presently we only possess (are possessed by?) a cat. Gummi Bear, technically, although no-one ever calls her that. She speaks a tonal language anyhow, and only responds to the right tone of voice, no matter what the name is. Well, our patio door opens onto the deck, and there's a wingback chair outside the window over the kitchen sink. So as I was washing dishes and gazing at the rare sunshine and blogging in my head suddenly there pops up a calico cat face sporting a big fat dead mouse. She gets this crazy look on her face, eyes open in perfect Os, ears perked, neck stretched out, and I can see that she's meowing in a muffled way with her mouth full. She's staring into my soul and trying to mind-meld with me so that I'll open the door. So I do go to the glass patio door and she's there before me, thinking she's won. When I reach for the handle she nearly concusses herself bonking into the glass, assuming I'm letting her in. Her and her bigfatdeadbloodymouse. And then she gives me this look. You've seen it on lots of people, I'm sure. The one-eyebrow-raised "What the heck? What's your problem?" look. And I replied with the "you know perfectly well. Drop the mouse." look. So she did. But then we became engaged in this artful dance of slideopenthedooracrack and lookaroundshiftyeyedandgetreadytograbthemouseagain countered by whiskthedoorshutagain and innocentsweetypiepleaseletmein face. Eventually she got disgusted with me and started throwing the mouse up in the air and against the glass, partly so I could see the fun I was missing, and partly so I'd have to wash the window again. Snort. Again. Like I ever wash that window!
But I'm just saying. These are the kinds of extremely important tasks that occupy my existence. Who else is there to listen to the cat telepathically? Who else is preventing dead mouse invasion? All the while, multitasking to no end, writing the story of my life on the notepad of my brain.
Anyway, I think the canvas is dry. Oh boy I'm so excited I can almost taste it!
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
Productivity
Wait, I have to put the wet laundry in the dryer...
This is me multitasking. Right now I'm blogging (which is a mini-multitask in itself: exercising my synapses, self-motivating/medicating, providing much-needed entertainment and encouragement to the world...), homeschooling, doing laundry, planning lunch, answering emails and phone calls and making sure the office chair doesn't roll away. Oh! I will also boil water for tea. and eat a banana, since I'm up.
I'm also single-handedly stopping the house from burning down and keeping the Offspring alive. Pretty important stuff. Speaking of family, here comes OtherHalf, so now I will amazingly add another task and Give Him Attention. Not undivided, though, obviously.
So what is the cause of all this frenetic activity?? Well, let me tell you. Tomorrow, I will have a whole day... wait for it...
All By Myself.
Offspring are going skiing. All day. OtherHalf is working. I will be moving into Phase Two of the Success Plan; that is, Creating.
Oh, the deliciousness of the anticipation! At last, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel! All this organisation, planning and preparation will pay off as I Paint and Paint and Paint. I can joyfully, gleefully let the creative juices flow, guilt-free, knowing that food is made, clothes are clean and family are all elsewhere.
But for today, I must make sure that everything is in place. Chores done. Phone calls made. I don't want anything niggling at my brain, eating away at my bliss tomorrow.
This guilt factor is one of the driving forces behind my Plan for Success. There are certain... Pressures, if you will; expectations for Productivity that have grown and morphed into a voracious beast over this past year. When we lived at Blue Lake (that's a whole other blog!) I enjoyed many days of peaceful reading in a sunny chair, or sitting in a canoe on the lake, or wandering aimlessly around the yard in my housecoat... we lived alone, in the wilderness, and our busy times were very very busy but the in-between times were very very calm.
Now we live in so-called civilisation and there's a possibility of someone dropping in and seeing my filthy floor or calling on the phone and wanting my time so I have to actually get things done once in a while. Perhaps I don't want people to know I'm sometimes still drinking morning coffee at 10:30am. I've already answered the door far too many times in my housecoat. I must join the ranks and become Productive.
The thing is, I'm not sure if there's really a cut-and-dried definition for "productivity". If I was working as an author, I'd be very productive right now. According to my domestic pals, however, this occupation is not a good use of my time. OtherHalf, on the other hand, doesn't mind my typing away if it helps me ward off insanity.
I read an email this morning from a friend who was concerned about the amount of time she was spending reading foodie blogs while her new baby slept on her lap. I think she may be worried that her actions (or lack thereof) could be interpreted as Laziness. A true swear word in her circle. And mine. I've always suspected that I have a deep-seated Lazy Streak, and usually Guilt prances hand-in-hand with it. Together they're like some evil fraternal twins, gnawing away at my Good Intentions and trampling my Self-Worth.
But it got me thinking, especially since just last night I was snuggled with OtherHalf on the couch while we all watched a truly dull tv show about the engineering of a supersonic car. Which, by the way, kept one watching with the promise of how it was going to break the land speed record, and then abruptly ended without ever even racing the car. Prompting a google search of "did the American Eagle break the land speed record" which was followed by a truly dull perusal of Wikipedia and various websites to discover that, no, it did not - it hasn't even attempted to break the land speed record and willyoupleasesendmoney so we can afford to keep working on it? Ha.
In ANy case. As my brain continued to multitask even as my body was inert, Guilt tap-tapped on my consciousness with a quick "hey, you really ought to be doing something productive." Laziness chimed in with a smug "yeah, what a waste of time." But OtherHalf was very comfy, and I was a bit pinned down by his comfort, much in the same way my friend is presently responsible for the comfort of NewBaby.
And so, I contend that productivity is what we want it to be. In 20 or even 10 years' time, will anyone remember that today I left a pile of dirty rags in the laundry sink 'cause I couldn't be bothered to bleach them? But if, in 10 years' time when Offspring have moved away I've crocheted a million baby sweaters while OtherHalf watched a show in the evening, and now we find we have nothing to say to each other because I've been too busy producing things all these years to snuggle on the couch... you get my point. Surely the most productive thing we can do is pour into our relationships. Do I want to keep GiantBoy and Tweenie so busy with tasks that they hide from me so they can get a break? Or will I risk passing on my potential Lazy Streak so that we can all run outside and just stand in a sunbeam for as long as we want, Guilt-free?
ok to take the time to do them. Maybe it'll be learning to tell Guilt to stick a sock in it.
Oh, I heard the dryer buzz. Life goes on.
This is me multitasking. Right now I'm blogging (which is a mini-multitask in itself: exercising my synapses, self-motivating/medicating, providing much-needed entertainment and encouragement to the world...), homeschooling, doing laundry, planning lunch, answering emails and phone calls and making sure the office chair doesn't roll away. Oh! I will also boil water for tea. and eat a banana, since I'm up.
I'm also single-handedly stopping the house from burning down and keeping the Offspring alive. Pretty important stuff. Speaking of family, here comes OtherHalf, so now I will amazingly add another task and Give Him Attention. Not undivided, though, obviously.
So what is the cause of all this frenetic activity?? Well, let me tell you. Tomorrow, I will have a whole day... wait for it...
All By Myself.
Offspring are going skiing. All day. OtherHalf is working. I will be moving into Phase Two of the Success Plan; that is, Creating.
Oh, the deliciousness of the anticipation! At last, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel! All this organisation, planning and preparation will pay off as I Paint and Paint and Paint. I can joyfully, gleefully let the creative juices flow, guilt-free, knowing that food is made, clothes are clean and family are all elsewhere.
But for today, I must make sure that everything is in place. Chores done. Phone calls made. I don't want anything niggling at my brain, eating away at my bliss tomorrow.
This guilt factor is one of the driving forces behind my Plan for Success. There are certain... Pressures, if you will; expectations for Productivity that have grown and morphed into a voracious beast over this past year. When we lived at Blue Lake (that's a whole other blog!) I enjoyed many days of peaceful reading in a sunny chair, or sitting in a canoe on the lake, or wandering aimlessly around the yard in my housecoat... we lived alone, in the wilderness, and our busy times were very very busy but the in-between times were very very calm.
Now we live in so-called civilisation and there's a possibility of someone dropping in and seeing my filthy floor or calling on the phone and wanting my time so I have to actually get things done once in a while. Perhaps I don't want people to know I'm sometimes still drinking morning coffee at 10:30am. I've already answered the door far too many times in my housecoat. I must join the ranks and become Productive.
The thing is, I'm not sure if there's really a cut-and-dried definition for "productivity". If I was working as an author, I'd be very productive right now. According to my domestic pals, however, this occupation is not a good use of my time. OtherHalf, on the other hand, doesn't mind my typing away if it helps me ward off insanity.
I read an email this morning from a friend who was concerned about the amount of time she was spending reading foodie blogs while her new baby slept on her lap. I think she may be worried that her actions (or lack thereof) could be interpreted as Laziness. A true swear word in her circle. And mine. I've always suspected that I have a deep-seated Lazy Streak, and usually Guilt prances hand-in-hand with it. Together they're like some evil fraternal twins, gnawing away at my Good Intentions and trampling my Self-Worth.
But it got me thinking, especially since just last night I was snuggled with OtherHalf on the couch while we all watched a truly dull tv show about the engineering of a supersonic car. Which, by the way, kept one watching with the promise of how it was going to break the land speed record, and then abruptly ended without ever even racing the car. Prompting a google search of "did the American Eagle break the land speed record" which was followed by a truly dull perusal of Wikipedia and various websites to discover that, no, it did not - it hasn't even attempted to break the land speed record and willyoupleasesendmoney so we can afford to keep working on it? Ha.
In ANy case. As my brain continued to multitask even as my body was inert, Guilt tap-tapped on my consciousness with a quick "hey, you really ought to be doing something productive." Laziness chimed in with a smug "yeah, what a waste of time." But OtherHalf was very comfy, and I was a bit pinned down by his comfort, much in the same way my friend is presently responsible for the comfort of NewBaby.
And so, I contend that productivity is what we want it to be. In 20 or even 10 years' time, will anyone remember that today I left a pile of dirty rags in the laundry sink 'cause I couldn't be bothered to bleach them? But if, in 10 years' time when Offspring have moved away I've crocheted a million baby sweaters while OtherHalf watched a show in the evening, and now we find we have nothing to say to each other because I've been too busy producing things all these years to snuggle on the couch... you get my point. Surely the most productive thing we can do is pour into our relationships. Do I want to keep GiantBoy and Tweenie so busy with tasks that they hide from me so they can get a break? Or will I risk passing on my potential Lazy Streak so that we can all run outside and just stand in a sunbeam for as long as we want, Guilt-free?
ok to take the time to do them. Maybe it'll be learning to tell Guilt to stick a sock in it.
Oh, I heard the dryer buzz. Life goes on.
Saturday, 7 January 2012
Week One Report
We've arrived at the end of week one of my six month journey to success. Only one minor meltdown today - I found myself around midafternoon wrestling a slimy raw turkey while Offspring played Wii and OtherHalf played Angry Birds (ok, ok, he MIGHT have been working on the church financial report, potaytoes, potahtoes) and suddenly I just felt really sick of cooking and hoarding freezer foods and was ready to throw in the towel. I may or may not have thrown turkey bits around and wailed about my frustration. Of course, mid-rant, I was stricken with guilt as I realised that my snivelling about having to be "save-y" by hacking up a whole turkey (at $0.89/lb) instead of being able to just buy turkey breast and ground turkey (at goodnessonlyknowshowmuchitcosts/lb) could possibly be interpreted by OtherHalf as criticism of his ability to adequately provide for the Family. Of course this was not my intent, but guilt generally provokes feelings of anger and this fueled my verbal diarrhea to a new peak. At some point I actually spewed "make the children stop having fun! Everyone should be as miserable as I am!" or something along those lines. Happily, I was so over-the-top that OtherHalf ended up laughing, came to my rescue and even washed the dishes.
On another note; I have a new item to add to my "things I really can't comprehend" list. Does anyone out there play card "trump" games? Tonight we went to have Relaxing Fellowship with Friends. This involved playing the game "Wizard", which calls itself "the Greatest Card Game of All Time". I beg to differ. There is something evil lurking deep within trump games. And I know I'll lose, I know I'll lose big time. But games are fun. I like to play games. Something about this one game, though, gets right under my skin and I get so anxious! Here's how Wizard works: you get a hand of cards, and one suit is the "trump" and then you go 'round the table and bet on how many "tricks" you'll take during that hand. You take a trick by playing the highest card, and a trump card is higher than the other suits, and a Wizard card is highest of all. Unless you play a Wizard card AFTER someone else has already played one, in which case THEIRS is higher and they take yours thankyouverymuchsocalledBestFriend. And then, if you get the number of tricks you thought you'd get, you get some points, plus points per trick. And if you FAIL you lose points. You fail by someone else sneakily playing a higher card than yours even though they knew full well you needed to take that trick thanksalotOtherHalf. Really and truly, I think it's only BestFriend's husband and eldest son that are playing, the rest of us are just there to contribute extra cards and comic relief. And I KNOW this, I KNOW this! but that doesn't stop me from getting heart palpitations as we go 'round and 'round and I try to comprehend what on earth is going on and how do they know what everyone else is going to play so that they play the right card and win?! There is some kind of serious mental block that prevents my understanding this game. Which is no big deal, after all, someone has to lose, and I can do it splendidly. I think the thing is, I want so badly to just get it, you know? Not even to win, just to finally have the light come on, that "ah ha!" moment, to be able to enter into the spirit of the strategy. It's not so much the losing, it's the having no idea what is making me lose, and having no control over whether I'll improve or not.
I guess I should really be grateful that this phenomenon is most prevalent in a simple card game. There are other areas of life where this sort of feeling would be terribly overwhelming, and something tells me I could be walking a fine line here and there. Best to leave this concept on the edge of conscious thought, and postphone further analysing.
So, all in all, Week One hasn't been to much of a crash and burn. I have two freezers full of pop-in-the-oven meals, I've gutted and organized the under-the-stairs storage area, Offspring are loving their new math curriculum, OtherHalf is still smiling and my future looks bright. Dragon's Den is not holding auditions right now, but that's fine, it gives me time to work on a proto-type for my latest invention. I have done some preliminary research into what I'll need to get my espresso pod running... I'll keep you posted on that. I think in the next week I'll go through my seed stash and see if something could be planted, test some recipes for the espresso pod, and gesso some canvasses so I'm ready to paint.
'Til next time, then.
CG
On another note; I have a new item to add to my "things I really can't comprehend" list. Does anyone out there play card "trump" games? Tonight we went to have Relaxing Fellowship with Friends. This involved playing the game "Wizard", which calls itself "the Greatest Card Game of All Time". I beg to differ. There is something evil lurking deep within trump games. And I know I'll lose, I know I'll lose big time. But games are fun. I like to play games. Something about this one game, though, gets right under my skin and I get so anxious! Here's how Wizard works: you get a hand of cards, and one suit is the "trump" and then you go 'round the table and bet on how many "tricks" you'll take during that hand. You take a trick by playing the highest card, and a trump card is higher than the other suits, and a Wizard card is highest of all. Unless you play a Wizard card AFTER someone else has already played one, in which case THEIRS is higher and they take yours thankyouverymuchsocalledBestFriend. And then, if you get the number of tricks you thought you'd get, you get some points, plus points per trick. And if you FAIL you lose points. You fail by someone else sneakily playing a higher card than yours even though they knew full well you needed to take that trick thanksalotOtherHalf. Really and truly, I think it's only BestFriend's husband and eldest son that are playing, the rest of us are just there to contribute extra cards and comic relief. And I KNOW this, I KNOW this! but that doesn't stop me from getting heart palpitations as we go 'round and 'round and I try to comprehend what on earth is going on and how do they know what everyone else is going to play so that they play the right card and win?! There is some kind of serious mental block that prevents my understanding this game. Which is no big deal, after all, someone has to lose, and I can do it splendidly. I think the thing is, I want so badly to just get it, you know? Not even to win, just to finally have the light come on, that "ah ha!" moment, to be able to enter into the spirit of the strategy. It's not so much the losing, it's the having no idea what is making me lose, and having no control over whether I'll improve or not.
I guess I should really be grateful that this phenomenon is most prevalent in a simple card game. There are other areas of life where this sort of feeling would be terribly overwhelming, and something tells me I could be walking a fine line here and there. Best to leave this concept on the edge of conscious thought, and postphone further analysing.
So, all in all, Week One hasn't been to much of a crash and burn. I have two freezers full of pop-in-the-oven meals, I've gutted and organized the under-the-stairs storage area, Offspring are loving their new math curriculum, OtherHalf is still smiling and my future looks bright. Dragon's Den is not holding auditions right now, but that's fine, it gives me time to work on a proto-type for my latest invention. I have done some preliminary research into what I'll need to get my espresso pod running... I'll keep you posted on that. I think in the next week I'll go through my seed stash and see if something could be planted, test some recipes for the espresso pod, and gesso some canvasses so I'm ready to paint.
'Til next time, then.
CG
Friday, 6 January 2012
The List
I'm fond of lists. Here's a list of some of my favourite types of lists:
I like to write my lists in those brightly coloured notebooks - I've got a whole pile of them scattered all over the house. Here's a list of places I sometimes find my notebooks:
As demonstrated, I also forget where I've left my notebooks, and I forget which list is in which notebook. So I have lots of notebooks, and OtherHalf has a drawer in his desk with a fresh supply which I'm not supposed to take but I do.
I also need notebooks for jotting down ideas, which flow into my brain like sparkling springwater and then seep down into my sandy consciousness to momentarily refresh before vanishing altogether. Water must be stored in the cistern of my many notebooks. One can often find me scrambling about the house, red-faced and panicked, searching for "no! not that one! The OTHER blue notebook! The one with that cake drawing on the left-hand page somewhere in the middle!"
However!
This is supposed to be my list of things I like to do. To give you some background into the distractedness of my existence. So, without further ado:
I like to think that I'm reasonably good at most of these things. Now, here's a list of my actual responsibilities:
Now, my aim here is to move some of my happy, sparkly creative items into my responsibility list by properly working at them and actually making a little money, and therefore being successful at them. In the past, I've tried to take the things that are proven money-makers (like catering and cake decorating) and turn them into businesses. However, since they're not my favourite things, they quickly become drudgery once they are mandatory and I'm back to square one. So, part of my six month success plan is to focus on some of the creative things that are purely joyful and relaxing, and if they can make money, so be it. Hopefully the fulfilment of these activities will counteract the mind-numbing responsibilities of day-to-day survival. I've pared my Things I LOVE to Do list down to these few:
And with that, I can cross off an item from my To Do Today list, and get on to other things. (Grind venison, make frozen hamburger patties, make frozen meatballs... oh dear, I didn't mean to start listing again, it just happens...)
I bid you adieu.
CreativeGenius
- list of things to do today
- top ten lists
- favourite things list
- list of things to pack
- "don't forget these items!" list
- list of seeds to buy
I like to write my lists in those brightly coloured notebooks - I've got a whole pile of them scattered all over the house. Here's a list of places I sometimes find my notebooks:
- on "my" coffee table (on "my" side of the couch. By the way, this is one of the places where my notebooks actually belong.)
- in the drawer of the dresser labelled "mama's paperwork". This is the other place that my notebooks belong.
- on the bookshelf with the cookbooks
- or on the bookshelf with the phone book
- under the couch
- under the bed
- shoved down inside the couch cushions
- in the closet
- in one of the reusable shopping bags
- in the truck
- at the church
- at BestFriend's house
- in the garden
- on my workbench in the shop
- on the easel
- on the coffee table on the deck
- on OtherHalf's coffee table (it's generally OtherHalf that finds this one, and shakes it fiercely at me and says stuff like "this is why you can never find your things!")
- in the library basket
As demonstrated, I also forget where I've left my notebooks, and I forget which list is in which notebook. So I have lots of notebooks, and OtherHalf has a drawer in his desk with a fresh supply which I'm not supposed to take but I do.
I also need notebooks for jotting down ideas, which flow into my brain like sparkling springwater and then seep down into my sandy consciousness to momentarily refresh before vanishing altogether. Water must be stored in the cistern of my many notebooks. One can often find me scrambling about the house, red-faced and panicked, searching for "no! not that one! The OTHER blue notebook! The one with that cake drawing on the left-hand page somewhere in the middle!"
However!
This is supposed to be my list of things I like to do. To give you some background into the distractedness of my existence. So, without further ado:
List of Hobbies and Interests
or: Things I Have Tried, Currently Dabble in, Or Am Trying to Learn
- artistic painting (which includes: watercolours, acrylic, oil, pencil drawing)
- painting murals
- window painting
- face painting
- henna (and other body art)
- cake decorating
- catering
- wood carving
- stone carving
- concrete sculpture
- metal working (well, I haven't done this YET, but I have all the stuff ready to start!)
- crochet
- designing crochet patterns
- writing (children's books, poetry, essays, novel)
- illustrating (mostly childrens' books)
- graphic design (I actually made money with this!)
- gardening
- landscape design
- sewing (I'm really bad at this, so I'm happy to drop it!)
- gourmet cooking
- music (this includes piano, guitar, penny-whistle, accordion, djembe, singing, teaching my kids music, and songwriting)
- acting
I like to think that I'm reasonably good at most of these things. Now, here's a list of my actual responsibilities:
- homeschooling GiantBoy and Tweenie (including making sure they get to their activities/lessons)
- feeding family
- cleaning the dwelling (this includes all kinds of vomitous tasks that suck the life right out of me!)
- keeping OtherHalf happy
- leading worship and playing piano at church
- helping out with other random church activities/functions
Now, my aim here is to move some of my happy, sparkly creative items into my responsibility list by properly working at them and actually making a little money, and therefore being successful at them. In the past, I've tried to take the things that are proven money-makers (like catering and cake decorating) and turn them into businesses. However, since they're not my favourite things, they quickly become drudgery once they are mandatory and I'm back to square one. So, part of my six month success plan is to focus on some of the creative things that are purely joyful and relaxing, and if they can make money, so be it. Hopefully the fulfilment of these activities will counteract the mind-numbing responsibilities of day-to-day survival. I've pared my Things I LOVE to Do list down to these few:
- painting (mostly with oils)
- wood carving (rocking horses, to be precise)
- metal-working (well, we'll see how it turns out, anyway)
- food service (in this case, an espresso-pod which is a work in progress. More on that at a later date)
- window painting
And with that, I can cross off an item from my To Do Today list, and get on to other things. (Grind venison, make frozen hamburger patties, make frozen meatballs... oh dear, I didn't mean to start listing again, it just happens...)
I bid you adieu.
CreativeGenius
Thursday, 5 January 2012
Week One, Day 5
Here's the thing: God has blessed me with a truly unfair amount of creative gifting... and absolutely zero ambition. I'm nearing middle age (or am I there already?!), have two children, one husband, a cat, some responsiblilities, and for as many hobbies as I like to do, I have an inversely proportionate amount of motivation. Every time one of these scraps of genius hit the public I hear things like: "Oooo, you should sell those!" "Why don't you have your own business?" "You could be making a lot of money!" etc etc ad nauseum. Why do I not follow any of this shrewd advice? Laziness, maybe? Busy-ness, partly. Apathy, definitely.
So dawns a bright new year, unless you're Mayan, and I've decided to try my hand at success. Since creative writing is one of the things I like to dabble in, I figured a blog to track my upward climb is just the ticket. Besides, once I'm fully successful I can publish it and make a movie.
Yes, I will admit, people are laughing at me. Mocking, in fact. Just today after lunch, OtherHalf and I were enjoying a peaceful moment alone and I said (whined?) "I'm tired. I don't want to be successful anymore." The fact that I'm merely five days into my journey is no reason for the snide comment and laughter that ensued. Apparently I have a bit of a reputation for ummm.... giving up. Quitting, in fact. (Insert sigh of shame.) It's just that sometimes things get really boring and something else looks far more interesting and so I do the new thing and let the old thing do whatever it is discarded things do. Rot. Attract dust. Get tripped on. Wait, this is beginning to sound like a description of my basement.
So. Game Plan. Priority #1: the S word.
Schedule.
I don't know if you know this about creative people - we really tend to dread Organization. Schedules. Anything remotely resembling someoneorsomething telling us Whatwemustdonow or Whatwemaynotdo. However, I can see that part of my lack of current success is due to the fact that while I can have ideas 'til the cows come home, I also need to save some time for the execution of said ideas.
That being said, my mental schedule is five days behind already. That's why this blog post is titled "Week One, Day FIVE" instead of it's intended name of "Week One, Day ONE" or perhaps: "The Journey Begins" or maybe "Here I Go Again".
I think I do tend to set myself up for failure - take a look at my catering company's name: "Flash in the Pan". I named it that on purpose, knowing full well that it was likely to be a flash in the pan. Which seems like a terribly clever cooking play on words. My signature dish is Greek flaming cheese. A literal flash in the pan. I have never made it. Stop snickering.
Anyhow, focus. Priority #2: Enlist Help.
Motherdear is on the way. She will be washing dishes while I attack a huge amount of cooking this afternoon. She does not know this yet.
Which brings me to Priority #3: Take Care of Responsibilities
It's not that creating a painting (for example) requires a vast amount of time, but once I start I just don't want to stop. Before I know it, it's well past suppertime and OtherHalf, GiantBoy and Tweenie are gawping away like hungry robins and I've low-blood-sugared and the meal will take an hour to prepare. So, I plan to cook and freeze as much food as possible in order to maintain a respectably healthy diet, budget and sanity.
Well, I'm off to a roaring start. This posting alone has taken me over eight hours to write, since I started it, paused to have coffee, cook, freeze, eat, go to Bible study... and now I scramble to finish it so I can go to bed. And it's only five days late. My newest invention is apparently about two years late, since I was in the process of drawing up the design for it when my best friend gave me one for Christmas. Phooey. Luckily I have another invention rattling around my brain, halfway to the Dragon's Den already!
But I digress. Something tells me I had more priorities to list, but I'm tired of lists for today (got to cross off all but two of the items on my "to do" list this afternoon - then I added two extra things that I'd already done and crossed them off too; that counts, right?) so I'll end on that note.
I'm scheduled to blog again tomorrow, so I'll see you in three days time, tops.
So dawns a bright new year, unless you're Mayan, and I've decided to try my hand at success. Since creative writing is one of the things I like to dabble in, I figured a blog to track my upward climb is just the ticket. Besides, once I'm fully successful I can publish it and make a movie.
Yes, I will admit, people are laughing at me. Mocking, in fact. Just today after lunch, OtherHalf and I were enjoying a peaceful moment alone and I said (whined?) "I'm tired. I don't want to be successful anymore." The fact that I'm merely five days into my journey is no reason for the snide comment and laughter that ensued. Apparently I have a bit of a reputation for ummm.... giving up. Quitting, in fact. (Insert sigh of shame.) It's just that sometimes things get really boring and something else looks far more interesting and so I do the new thing and let the old thing do whatever it is discarded things do. Rot. Attract dust. Get tripped on. Wait, this is beginning to sound like a description of my basement.
So. Game Plan. Priority #1: the S word.
Schedule.
I don't know if you know this about creative people - we really tend to dread Organization. Schedules. Anything remotely resembling someoneorsomething telling us Whatwemustdonow or Whatwemaynotdo. However, I can see that part of my lack of current success is due to the fact that while I can have ideas 'til the cows come home, I also need to save some time for the execution of said ideas.
That being said, my mental schedule is five days behind already. That's why this blog post is titled "Week One, Day FIVE" instead of it's intended name of "Week One, Day ONE" or perhaps: "The Journey Begins" or maybe "Here I Go Again".
I think I do tend to set myself up for failure - take a look at my catering company's name: "Flash in the Pan". I named it that on purpose, knowing full well that it was likely to be a flash in the pan. Which seems like a terribly clever cooking play on words. My signature dish is Greek flaming cheese. A literal flash in the pan. I have never made it. Stop snickering.
Anyhow, focus. Priority #2: Enlist Help.
Motherdear is on the way. She will be washing dishes while I attack a huge amount of cooking this afternoon. She does not know this yet.
Which brings me to Priority #3: Take Care of Responsibilities
It's not that creating a painting (for example) requires a vast amount of time, but once I start I just don't want to stop. Before I know it, it's well past suppertime and OtherHalf, GiantBoy and Tweenie are gawping away like hungry robins and I've low-blood-sugared and the meal will take an hour to prepare. So, I plan to cook and freeze as much food as possible in order to maintain a respectably healthy diet, budget and sanity.
Well, I'm off to a roaring start. This posting alone has taken me over eight hours to write, since I started it, paused to have coffee, cook, freeze, eat, go to Bible study... and now I scramble to finish it so I can go to bed. And it's only five days late. My newest invention is apparently about two years late, since I was in the process of drawing up the design for it when my best friend gave me one for Christmas. Phooey. Luckily I have another invention rattling around my brain, halfway to the Dragon's Den already!
But I digress. Something tells me I had more priorities to list, but I'm tired of lists for today (got to cross off all but two of the items on my "to do" list this afternoon - then I added two extra things that I'd already done and crossed them off too; that counts, right?) so I'll end on that note.
I'm scheduled to blog again tomorrow, so I'll see you in three days time, tops.
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