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Not My Blog
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Sunday, May 30, 2010
Considering.
On the way to my home, no home.
The simple truth is that a change in scene does not automatically result in a lifting of spirit. But but BUT: reading a bit of philosophy does the trick for me.
I had thought to accomplish a bit more this trip east to Alberta, dropping in on old friends in three cities. Still, a reunion in Edmonton provided enlightenment and the lasting warmth of nonjudgment. Love yez, Danyon. Simply being in Karyn's presence was music I can't stop humming, days later. My brother and sister-in-law yet again swept me into their energetic family doings. I tell you, I can almost forget the dang blizzard that hit 48 hours ago. That's my old prairie province! Way to snow, heh heh. Saturday, May 22, 2010
Practising detachment became somewhat harder when I started to lose my cool. That's the ego chiming in. The unwelcome truth is that this is a battle I'm not going to win. No, it's not a fair fight. Yes, I should have more say in this matter, but that's something else I may not win. There is an undercurrent of divine humour, luckily. And I do not have to consider my decisions to be defeat.
Oh. Deepness. Too much. Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
I still say it's a good idea. This hobby farm is affectionately known as "Dark Creek Farm", an eponym born of Nik's first book series in the '90s [Rebel of Dark Creek being the first work]. When we chat about ways to make the hobby farm even slightly profitable, Nik always comes up with labour-intensive plans that involve organic gardening and animal-whispering. After surveying our large manure pile down by the paddocks, I thought we could make a little poo money with "Dark Creek Crap." And because I now live on Vancouver Island, my second marketing plan involved a fairly common, if not exactly legal, gardening plan. One of Nik's blogs is called "Dark Creek Chronicles," and it's often affiliated with her various radio projects, as well as current interests and activities. Another eponym was in store -- my new go-to-market crop? "Dark Creek Chronic." The radio audience just makes the marketing easier, is what.
It is sometimes difficult being ignored. Monday, May 10, 2010
People I'd like to Punch. I was proofreading an article written by a 20-something expat about love. Specifically, her recent experience. She wanted a relationship, like, as long as the guy was good-looking? And then she found someone cute? And he like really liked her, right? Except they fought a lot? So they like broke up and she saw all these other guys, but they had issues, you know? And she kept thinking Guy Number One was totally better than that. Plus he was hot, like she said before. So they like got back together and they're still fighting, and you know, maybe that's just what love is like, is she right?
Argh. YES YES YES we'll take it as read that if everybody could write well, there'd be no need for me. My problem was not how this twit wrote, but what she wrote. Narcissistic codswallop, I deem it. Wah-wah-wahhhhh. [Does any of this scorn stem from the jealousy of the unsuccessful romantic? Oh, probably. But the article is still a three-coil steamer.] Thursday, May 06, 2010
Okay: update time. Biggest shock: getting asked by the yoga studio owners (Abby and "Namastasia") and two other instructors if I would ever consider taking teacher training for Bikram Yoga. Talk about Floorward Facing Jaw pose: I was gobsmacked. As a result, I am thinking about the fall session of teacher training, even though it's expensive and would require some smooth talking around the hobby farm, since I'd be effing off to the States for 12 weeks and change, leaving the daily chores to the others. Stay tuned.
There's a new puppy on the farm as of May 4 -- a spindly Poodle/Whippet blend female. Only one problem: Nik's calling her Pippi (the breed blend is either a "Pippet" or a "Whoodle"), a name disconcertingly close to "Piper," the name of my rotten varmint. Nik says the dogs won't be confused, and I said I wasn't worried about the damn dogs. Anyway, secretly? I call the puppy Twiggy or Twiglet, since she is all leg, tail and snout. Have started the quest for part-time employment in earnest. Yay me. In mid-March I thought I'd suffered a soft tissue injury to my left foot, since it was tender to the touch and slightly swollen. I thought no more of it, even though there was really no improvement. In mid-April, a g.d. MONTH later, I awoke one morning to a rugby ball with toes instead of a foot. Could barely get the foot into a thong sandal. Er, perhaps drop by the Hobble-in Clinic? Fine. Upshot: huge infection, unknown origin, howzabout 2000mg a day of bacterium-fuck? Fine. Except weeks have passed and the foot is still on the puffy side. No satisfyingly messy eruption, either. Damned strange. Milked a goat three times a day over two weeks while the goat's owners were away. Made four batches, no, five, of various cheeses (ricotta, goatzarella, and chevre). Drank fresh goat milk and loved it. May be acquiring said goat from our farm friends. If this keeps up, I'll be buying a loom and whittling my own shoes. Hippie freak. Off to farm-sit at the end of the month for pals Jean and Tyke. Basically an extended playdate for Pipes and Rivvy with their farm dog pals. Also a road trip for me. All good. Well, this could go on for awhile. Perhaps I shall resume more regular posts from now on. I've missed this silly blog. Copyright © 2000-2014 Jane Farries All blandishments herein are property of the proprietor. There you go. |
