Â§hria's Spot

How does a Crone celebrate Beltain?

For the May Day is the great day,
Sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did ley
Will heed this song that calls them back.

-- Ian Anderson

Back in the day Beltain was celebrated with giant bonfires and 'greenwood marriages' of young men and women who spent the entire night in the forest, staying out to greet the May sunrise, and bringing back boughs of flowers and garlands to decorate the village the next morning, according to this site.

One could assume that handfasted or married couples had their own May Day celebrations after the fires and through the night at home as well.

The significance of this Pagan holiday is to welcome the coming summer and to remind the Earth that it is time to wake up and be fertile, to grow and to be productive. It is essentially, to ensure good fertility among crops and animals for this growing season.

What about the Crone?

What does she do with her withered, dry old womb? No babe will be at her sunken breast. No man's hand upon her wrinkled thigh. Are there other forms of fertility to be celebrated when the face is not so fair as to attract a man for a greenwood marriage and the bed at home has had only one pillow for several years now?

What more fertile ground can there be than that tilled by experienced plows? What more promising seeds can be sewn than those thrown from the hand that has seen many seasons and knows the best times to do the right things? Who can better tend the flock than she who has seen and persevered through all kinds of illness and injury? Who better to guard the fields and flocks from marauders than the woman who has been torn by all forms of wolf?

Perhaps the role of a Crone in the Beltain celebrations is more important than has been recognized in tradition. The Crone who embraces her rich experiences and chooses to share those with the fair young maidens can help them to become wise, fair, young maidens and to make good choices for their fertility of mind, body and soul.

So, this Beltain I will not lament my ugly face and aging body. I will celebrate the rites of Beltain in some way as a wise crone, rather than a wickedly bitter crone.

It is said that, to some, Beltain signifies the beginning of the fighting season as well as the time when legendary poet Taliesin is said to manifest. For some it is a time of sexual fertility, for others it heralds the ripening of a time for plunder, conquering and the spoils of war to the strongest of them. It can be a time for growing the food of stories yet to come.

The warrior, as a vigilant guard, was as necessary to guarantee a good harvest as the tillers of Earth and sewers of seeds. The wise woman who tends to the ills of the flock or herds and to the blights on the fields is also as needed to ensure a good harvest to all.

While I am not suggesting or intending to celebrate and embrace the ways of war, I am thinking this is a good time to become more active in the pursuit of victory. This could be victory over an inner daemon, an opponent in one's workplace, some social injustice or some form of illness. In any case, blood shed in war can be more figurative and less literal and still make for a good story.

I guess what I'm saying is that, since I have been forced into Cronehood a bit early and it is no longer an option for me to make love, I'll make like a warrior and be a vigilant guard for the fertile fields and I'll make like a healer and tend to the fields and flocks, then I'll make like the poet and write about it for maidens to come.

Fertility means different things to different people. We all have a part to play and there are many alternatives.

Desperately seeking Blog Fodder

So there we were wandering around in Wally World hoping for a dimension door to come suck us out of this world and through the looking glass when suddenly there was a voice in the air saying, 'It is now 9:50 p.m. WalMart will be closing in 10 minutes. Please bring your purchases to the checkout and thank you for shopping at WalMart. We will re-open at 8 a.m. tomorrow.'

'Who the hell is in WalMart at closing time, anyway,' was my thought. "What sort of a loser is wandering aimlessly through a WalMart store at 10 p.m. on a Saturday night? Pitiful!"

Turns out the only ones wandering around WalMart at 10 p.m. were me and three people I knew.

But the REALLY sad thing about that is me blogging about it! ROTFLMAO

And now for the real entry...

Nova's birthday party was a blast. She and six of her best friends had a great time in playland, eating cake and playing games.

They got awesome loot bags and cool toys as well as their favourite foods.

Nova got all the best stuff, a major haul! Strawberry shortcake jammies, two Barbie dolls and a boy Bratz toy. (Yeah, a boy toy... my SIX year old got a boy toy for her birthday!). She got a tonne and a half of pink clothes and jewelry as well as two pair of pink sandals.

The best thing about birthday at McDonald's is no mess, no fuss. I had fun too.

Well, that would be the best thing from my point of view. Nova's favorite thing was making a sunday and touring the staff area at McDonald's.

Okay, I was feeling kind of inadequate having my kid's party at McDonald's. But just before the party I was chatting with Emily Richard who said she had her older son's last birthday party there.

I guess if it's okay for Emily, it's okay for us.

And, as I said, Nova had a very fun day. She and her friends nearly hugged me to death and they all kept thanking me for bringing them to McDonald's.

Virtual Shoji screens

"Shoji screens create an atmosphere of privacy whilst their translucent character allows the soft diffusion of light." -- Handmade Shoji screen website.

The philosophy of the Shoji screen is simple looking, like the screen itself. If it’s closed nothing is happening on the other side. It’s all about courtesy, it’s about respect and it’s about the need to smooth out social situations.

If it's open, communication, air, light and ideas flow freely so it's also about the flow of air and the healthy properties of open spaces and light in a living space. Last but not least, it's about ergonomic flexibility or the idea that one space can have more than one use.

Maybe blogs are a bit like traditional Japanese or Chinese Shoji screened rooms.

When we are going by our pseudonym inside our blogs, the screen is closed but air and light from our ideas slip through the paper walls. Even if we know and see each other in real life, we hesitate to refer to our blogs, testing a bit to see if the screens are open or closed. There is an element of awkwardness in a chance real life meeting of bloggers known to each other primarily through blogging because we don't know if the person we are talking to is walking around with his or her screen open. Maybe we should institute some sort of code word or gesture, like a secret handshake, to use to acknowledge one another without revealing to others that we are bloggers. Okay, this could be fun!

Responses on our blogs are like notes slipped between the Shoji screens or quiet questioning scratches on the wooden frames.

Occasionally someone lights a screen on fire or batters it down to get through and shakes us out of our illusion of privacy. These unwanted intrusions behind the paper walls make me feel a little vulnerable but a little less alone. Sometimes these flaming intrusions form a cyber kick in the pants that is helpful to my continued development and growth. Maybe in real life a person wouldn't be comfortable hefting a verbal boot my way even if I would obviously benefit by it .

Sometimes I slide the screens back all the way and take a walk in the real world with my blog face on. When I introduce myself as Shria I mentally take inventory of everything I've written on my blog and wonder if the person I am speaking to has read it and what he or she thought of it, of me. Times like that I feel the most excitingly vulnerable. I feel tantalizingly real and so much less cyber. I feel almost like I could actually touch the world instead of just watching it from behind a screen.

That's where the idea of multi-use space comes in. My blog is a way to get to know me, or at least the parts of me I let show through the screen. Not only is it my soap box and my self-help manual (constantly under construction), it's a doorway to me.

Blogging can be dangerous. If you think it's bad to throw stones in a glass house, try playing with matches in a paper house. But once you build your house, it's hard to move out of it and it's nice to have company in it some times.

Even though you put bits of yourself out there for judgment through blogging, you learn so much about yourself, other ways of doing things and other people that it's worth the risk of living in a paper house.

Birthday parties

It's the birthday time in our house again. Nova turns six later this week and Dana is 12 two weeks after that. My mom's birthday is about two weeks after that, followed by my dad's another two weeks later and mine three weeks after that.

Of course this means that I have to buy about 12 gifts in the next six weeks. I am open to side projects that pay well and demand little time. I am also expecting a bit of a lag in some bill payments.

This would be the pattern of my life... live from pay cheque to pay cheque and take three months to financially recover from events such as Christmas, birthday season, vacations and special occasions like weddings and funerals. Retirement... ROTFLMAO!!! I will rest and enjoy my retirement when I'm dead and I'm not quitting work before then.

The picture is of some hand made invitations Ami stayed up late to make.

Nova invited her friends, Abbi, Robbi-Lynn, Brittany and Keetan. She also invited her family - mom, Dana and Ami; as well as dad, Courtney, Sarah and Kyle and Auntie Pauline, cousins Wendal and Keenan. Nova also insisted on inviting her teacher, Mrs. Halverson.

"But sweetie, people don't usually invite their teachers to their birthday parties," I said to her.

"Maybe OTHER people don't invite their teachers but I do!" was her answer.

'Miss H.' has a invitation to Nova's birthday party at McDonald's Playland this weekend.

Tougher to take notes

I think I know where Melody Burtis met Albert Ouimet. If it turns out to be true that Melody met the man who would come to kill her and her son at a place that was supposed to be safe, that people go to for help, it would be so wrong on so many levels.

This story is becoming more and more difficult.

Police Chief Bob Davies described the murders as horrific, brutal and gruesome. He was very controlled when he talked. I could tell he was affected by it.

Inspector Plus also seemed somewhat shocked and bewildered by the whole affair.

They have not found a motive, or what the connection is between Ouimet and Burtis but they do know that her killer broke down her door to get her and her son out of their home. They know that Melody and Harley were transported to the place where they were killed in her car and then their bodies were brought to the graveyard in her car.

What they aren't saying is if Melody and Harley were killed in Melody's car and how they were killed.

Jane Martynuk said they don't want to prejudice the people of Sault Ste. Marie against the possibility of choosing an impartial jury and ensuring Albert Francis Ouimet a fair trial. I think that statement pretty much assures that we will have to either try him elsewhere or search far afield for an impartial jury. It also speaks volumes about the local police's perception of the media.

Okay, some of us are vultures but I know of none of us who actually want to know the gorey details of how this woman and her child died.

Three things I do want to know though are what happened to the dog (the police didn't know about it) and if the daughter knows any more (maybe Ouimet was looking for her) and when/how Ouimet got those injuries on his face. I would also maybe like to know who was killed first. Maybe not, though. It's just that my mind has been grappling with the idea of what it may have been like to be fighting for my child's life, or for my child to see me die. There are deeply disturbing elements to this crime.

Paul Norbo got a good shot of the injuries on Ouimet's face. The original is here and I put a copy here in my blog so you can see what I'm talking about.

Two things today

Thing one

The art show from Algoma University College's graduating fine arts students was fabulous. Nova and I went on Saturday and she was so inspired she wanted to stop at the Dollar Store on the way home and pick up stuff to make art with.

She picked out about $20 worth of little bird, butterflies, ribbon, stickers and such. Then, when we got home, she got right to work. She worked on the floor behind my chair as I worked on the computer in the kitchen. She kept asking me how to spell things like 'I love mom'. It was very cool.

I have an idea for an art project for all of us. We have a wall that cries out for something from the family. We'll keep you posted.

Thing two

Dreams again

Early this morning I dreamed of rabbits and ducks in an office building.

After waking for nothing at 4:56 a.m. and watching the clock through to 5:55 a.m. I finally fell asleep again for an hour or so until the girls got up for school.

I dreamed that he and I were going to the Island on some task and going to be there over night. It was cancelled as we were in transit and we ended up in an office building when he decided to come to my place for the night instead and we got lost along the way.

That's where I found the ducks and bunny rabbits typing out mathematical formulas on computers and tending to nests that had strange shiny eggs and human excrement in them.

I just wanted to get back in the car and find my way to Keys Street so I could take him home with me before he changed his mind. That's when I awoke again at 6:54 a.m.

By the way, I found the nightmare BunnyDuck graphic here.

Significance

A recent conversation with some friends involved the question of what to call the person one lives with.

"If I say my daughter's partner people think she is a lesbian," said one man. "Partner implies a gay relationship."

"I prefer the ambiguity of the term partner," said another man. "Leave them to wonder."

"What about significant other," I said.

That was the preferred term that was most generally agreed upon.

So if I am not in a relationship, does that make me insignificant?

Another tarot card reading from Mystic Games tells me more of what I don't want to hear but know will be there.

What surrounds you?

The Hanged Man

You are stuck in a dilemma. You are suspended between the past and the future and a new direction for your life is in the making. You need to look at things from a new perspective in order to make necessary changes. Making a clean break with the past will help you to become more spiritually attuned. Take your time and make the right decisions about where you truly want your life to go.

General Description

Superficially seen, primarily means that we are stuck and in a dilemma. However, with more thorough consideration we can see that in the external immobility there is a forced repose, as well as the necessity and opportunity to achieve a transformed view of the world and change one's life. The passivity to which we are condemned in such phases is at best illustrated with the image of an illness, which is often actually indicated by this card. C. G. Jung says of the experience that the Hanged Man expresses: "To hang can ( ... ) even be a positively seen 'hanging on', which on the one hand means apparently insurmountable difficulties, yet on the other hand presents that unique situation that requires the greatest effort, and therefore calls the entire person into action.

Where it leads?

Death

You will be faced with a parting, a letting go, or the end of something. This may be a long wished for and liberating ending, or a painful experience. Regardless, it will represent a natural end. It will be time to let go of something, be it a person or situation. Do not deny yourself the natural deep experience of parting and the related life-accepting experiences. This will help prepare you for new things which will follow.

General Description

Death means parting, the great letting go, the end. It then also prepares the way for the new, for that which is to come. However, the card itself first presents us with the end. This can be positive when it relates to a long wished for, liberating ending, yet it is also natural that we have our most painful experiences with the theme of this card. In contrast to the 10 of Swords, which indicates the random and thereby premature ending, this card always stands for the natural end. This means that it is time to let go of something. The Death card is unjustly one of the most feared. The eternal embellishers, who do not understand it, read the card only to be the proclamation of something new and want to deny us the deep experience of parting and the related life-accepting experiences. "We have separated living from dying and the interval between them is fear" says Krishnamurti, and: "You cannot live without dying."

My conclusions

What if I refuse to let it die?

"The deep experience of parting and the related life-accepting experiences," is how the author of these cards explains this situation. If I refuse to accept the parting and the related life-accepting then what do I become? What am I becoming?

The crone

My inner crone is growing silently and secretly and when the time is ripe it will be revealed. I can never leave the place I so desperately wanted him to be so I will take root here and embrace my inner crone until I die an insignificant other to the many whose lives I have so lightly touched.

No, I am not hopeless. I am not hopeful either. I coast in neutral. Nor is there anything that needs fixing about my perspective. It is different from most but that doesn't make it wrong.

I seek peace in my insignificance; deference to my indifference.

More on the Burtis murders

When it was just two bodies in a cemetery it was a lot easier to be detached enough to get on with the task at hand. When it became a woman close to my age with a young child it got very hard to maintain any distance. I found myself identifying too much with Melody Burtis, really needing to know what happened to her and her son and at what point it could have been stopped.

I thought a lot about the man who killed them. I wondered how he could have been so brutal, so vicious and so irrational. How did he get them both out to Connor Road? Why did he take Harley, too? Were they there already and he came and killed them? I became very angry with this man, more angry with every question my mind raised. It was hard to be objective when I thought it could have been me under his knife or axe or what ever he used.

Yesterday morning I found myself standing outside the court house for about two and a half hours waiting for this man to come out so I could take a picture of him. Spending time with other people who were probably thinking some of the same thoughts as I made it easier to put aside my feelings and focus on the task at hand. It was also nice to spend some time chatting with an old and dear friend (Hi DD).

It was also helpful to see how other people dealt with the waiting and with what ever they were feeling about the whole thing. Paul, as always, devoured the task like a lion with a mouse.

"Look at that glass," he said. "I can't shoot through that!"

So off he went to find the supervisor and get the glass cleaned. As you can see by the picture of him cleaning it with his hat, that didn't work out very well.

"They told me it's never been cleaned before so why would they do it today," he said with disgust as he put his hat back on.

I love Paul Norbo!

A couple times during the waiting Alex Mihailovich and Grayson Hartsula passed through the scene with a flourish of perfect white teeth. In no time they were gone again ode-de-metro-sexual pheromones wafting off on the breeze behind them as they moved on to something else more important than waiting with us.

I love being the only girl on the scene and being invisible to the naked eye. You learn so much about men when they think you aren't there.

Brian Kelly brooded in the corner, talking quietly into his recorder periodically and only coming out of his thoughts long enough for the occasional very funny comment. That seriously intense man in the pink shirt has a lot of depth.

Craig Huckerby came around to the side David Dorricott, Brian Kelly and I were on for a brief hello once or twice before returning to take his station with Paul.

When they finally brought Albert Ouimet out we had gone over the top of tension from waiting and started down the other side to relaxed and ready. It was still as surprise to actually get a look at the face of the man I had already begun to hate.

He was very downcast. He looked like he was in hell.

Nothing can excuse what this man appears (very certainly) to have done, but I couldn't look at him and hate him. All I could do was start asking questions all over again. The need to know what happened is great. The need to know is a big part of who I am. I need to know what happened on Wednesday night. I need to know who Melody and Harley Baxter-Burtis were. I need to know who Albert Francis Ouimet is.

Little bits of information, unconfirmed and not yet fitting together in a cohesive story include the suggestion that Melody Burtis has been a recovering drug addict, that she has been the victim of domestic abuse with at least three partners and that she has an older child, a girl who lives with her aunt. I've also heard that Harley was in grade two at Riverview School and am very worried for his classmates and teachers. There is also a story circulating that Melody was involved in a custody battle with Harley's father.

In the Sault Star Brian Kelly reported that Albert Ouimet was convicted of assault because of a horrifically violent attack on his girlfriend in 2001.

There is no indication of what Melody's relationship was with Ouimet, only a police statement that they were known to each other and that it was not a random act of violence.

Alex Mihailovich interviewed Melody's neighbour for MCTV and the neighbour said that only Melody, Harley and their dog lived in the house on Salisbury Street.

For myself, years of experience have taught me that any assumptions are bad. (Unfortunately I still make too many.) This time, I will not make any inferences about what I don't know from what I've heard. Instead, I will wait and see what develops at the media conference on Monday. My hopes aren't high for answers there, though.

Forensic investigators can sometimes figure out what most likely happened but the why of it, the really important question, usually remains a mystery.

From the look of Albert Ouimet, I would be willing to guess he doesn't even know why.

To tan or not to tan

The question I face at this moment in time is probably more of an avoidance issue than a real question, but here it is, none-the-less.

Should I go to a tanning salon?

Why would I? Because I won't be out where people can see me in a bathing suit to get a natural tan but would like a little colour for the summer.

I also like to lay in the warm tanning bed and relax. It's probably the only place I can actually relax. I think I allow myself to relax there because I know it is for no more than 20 minutes. The thing I find most weird about tanning is that I can be naked and relax. Probably because I am laying in a coffin-like structure and can't raise my head to see myself, even if I were inclined to open my eyes. I do find myself making sure the door is locked at least three times before taking my clothes off, though.

Why wouldn't I? Because it costs money I could be spending on less frivolous things, because I have to go there without makeup on and someone might see me like that and because it might be bad for my skin.

Well, the bad for skin thing actually means nothing to me. I am virtually immune to the sun and hardly ever burn. Even when I've spent hours in the midday sun without sunscreen I was a little pink and it faded to brown by morning. I'm much more likely to faint from heat stroke long before I get a sun burn. Being in the sun usually gives me a headache.

Who got turned back

There I was, sitting in my car, sipping my coffee and watching Sault Ste. Marie's finest in action.

They were sitting in the Elmer the Safety Elephant van turning civilians away from the scene of a crime. The van was parked outside gate one of the Greenwood cemetery on People's road.

Police tape cordonned off about a third of the graveyard at the time and more groups of police showed up in about 10 minute intervals. By 10 a.m. there were five police vehicles on the scene.

Two unmarked surveillance vans, an SUV from the Emergency Services Unit and one of the big white unmarked Investigative Services vans were lined up along the road in front of the graveyard.

Meanwhile, three people came by walking their dogs at different times and each stopped to talk to an officer for a few seconds. One woman came up with a camera.

"I guess I won't be getting in there to take any pictures of birds this morning, will I," she said to Alix Mihailovich (MCTV) and I as she gestured toward the graveyard. She then went away from Alex and I to speak privately to a police officer. Alex and I stopped talking for a few seconds and both of us watched to see which way she went when she left. I guess there is a bit of predator in us, after all.

Another of those big white vans could barely be seen about 50 yards into the graveyard, partly behind some bushes. About five or six people could be seen circulating in, out and around the van.

Police spokesperson, and former high school classmate of mine, Jane Martynuk, said that two bodies had been discovered in there. She couldn't say what the gender, age or condition of the bodies were and they couldn't give any details about the man who was in custody and charged with two murders.

Later, while at home writing the story and processing the photos, I received a phone call from a reliable source who told me some things that I can't write until the story develops a little further. Now I am off to get my hair done and report on a meeting of the Board of Directors for Sault College. Tune in later for more on the story.

Life is a zoo

Dreamed of exotic pets, horses, a deserted mall that had been converted to a library, slippery slopes, night turning to day and all my black clothes turning into pale pastel shades as I put them on. Truly a hideous nightmare!

Note to any wily coyotes out there who think I'll let them in. That door is permanently closed for business. I'm thinking of painting it sky-blue so you won't even see it. You'll think you are looking at the wide open, nothing there sky, not a door.

Will expand on the dreams later. Now I must renovate my face, fix my hair and find some coffee. Two dead bodies discovered in the west end, one male in custody. Press conference imminent. I will be playing the role of a vulture shortly.

Crumbling walls

The Tower shows that we have walled ourselves into an area of supposed security that suddenly starts to waver.

This is very much a matter of structures and dimensions that have become too small and narrow for us. Convictions and basic principles of life could be affected by this, as well as our thoughts of security in the professional and financial sense.

Last but not least, our personal friendships and other partnerships could also be influenced.

In every case, the Tower stands for a concept that used to give us a reassuring measure of security, perhaps even a feeling of safety. But now we have grown out of it. These old concepts are usually toppled by surprising experiences, sometimes even true flashes of genius.

Since this is a matter of the supposed basis of our security, these sudden changes are often first experienced as catastrophes. It is only when the first shock has been overcome that we sense with relief that we have been freed from old burdens. This breakthrough can be triggered through our own perceptions as well as external events.

The I Ching says in this regard: "The storm with its thunder and lightning overcomes the disturbing tension in nature."

What are the bricks in the walls of my tower?

What are the beliefs and thoughts that I held to be so self evident as to be completely and independently true, even without testing?

I won't get that personal here, but to say that many structures are crumbling.

I am tired, though, and may have to let the bricks lay where they fall - some for a while, some for good.

Fitday.com is working fairly well for me despite the lack of support I'm getting for my efforts to improve myself. I just wish there was more time for working out earlier in the day, when I have the energy to do it.

I've decided to focus more on what I can do and less on how bad I look, though. I feel like I am fighting a battle I am doomed to lose. I had SO much work to do and time is just not helping.

In other news, everyone should go and see the art show at the Art Gallery of Algoma running only until Saturday. I just hope the Queen will forgive me for missing her opening. The work is very good. I saw it being hung.

(Also, the tarot card in this blog entry is from this site. The woman pictured in the site looks just my friend of many years, Michele, who died of cancer this February 23. She taught me to read tarot cards 24 years ago. I still have the deck she taught me on.)

The laws of mathematics FAIL

I finally managed to set up my Gazelle exerciser. It works great and is actually fun, especially when I am armed with my MP3 player.

The problem is the math. It says I burned about 300 calories in about 45 minutes, yesterday. I know I didn’t eat more than 800 calories all day and my doctor says my body needs about 800 calories just to walk, breathe and think. So, why did I GAIN weight?

At lunch with a bunch of female friends on Saturday, one said she has been eating real fast food (like Big Macs, Wendy's Chili and Tim's pastries) for about a week and lost five pounds and she is older than me. I ate about half my salad with no dressing and saved the rest for dinner.

And don't say it's ratios either. About a third of what I eat is vegetables, about one third is complex carbohydrates from whole grains and one quarter is low-fat protein sources like chicken breasts and dry fish. The rest is fat-free or low-fat dairy.

I haven't had a Danish in many weeks, and seldom even eat chocolate now. There are no hidden calories sneaking into my diet. I even count the 20 calories a cup from the milk and sugar in my seven or eight cups of coffee a day.

While it's true that I only recently started working out seriously, I should have been losing weight all along (a LONG time) based on numbers alone. That's what my doctor said, “It’s simply a matter of math. Burn more calories than you take in and you will burn stored calories."

The math is STILL failing! Does he believe me, though – NOT!

This is incredibly frustrating. Will I never be able to go out in public in a swim suit, put on a short-sleeved shirt or wear something with a little colour?

Summer is coming on like a speeding train toward a broken track and I am afraid of having to spend yet another warm season watching from inside my car or on my computer in the basement as other people have fun in the sun.

Addendum: I AM SOOO HUNGRY I COULD KILL SOMEONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Exotic pets

My attitude toward men and relationships with them is improving greatly.

Even Ami agrees. After I told her about my latest thoughts on the matter, she said, "Yumi, usually your theories are pretty out to lunch but I think this one is pretty okay. I think I may actually like it."

"Maybe it isn't out to lunch because I was out when I thought it up. I was out in my car eating a salad for lunch.," I replied.

I've come to the conclusion that men are a lot like exotic pets.

They are beautiful to look at. They are fun to visit, to hang out with, to be seen with, occasionally to play with or to pet, but they are just too high maintenance to keep one of my own. The return on my investment of effort, time and money can't possibly be justified - especially when there are so many available to borrow.

I have met one or two about whom I've thought, 'I could do what it takes to give that one a nice home,' only to be disappointed when I learn that they already have a nice home.

What brought this train of thought crashing through the station? Four and a half years of single life.

I lived with my ex-husband for four and a half years before I married him. It took me a while to finally decide to make that commitment. I had to figure out if an investment in that exotic pet would pay off, either emotionally, physically, spiritually or financially.

In some ways it paid off much better than I ever hoped. My girls are the BEST!

In some ways it took its toll on me.

Now, after spending four and a half years on my own and raising my kids, I've come to realize I am ready to make a commitment to myself. I am ready to be in a committed relationship with myself and leave the exotic pets at the store.

Besides, with two kids, a room mate, a dog, a cat, five fish, a three-bedroom house and 60 hour a week job to look after, who has time to nurture, nourish, clean up after and support a needy exotic pet?

Outside

All the times that I felt insecure, yeah
And I lift my burden out the door

I'm on the outside
I'm looking in
I can see through you
See your true colors
'Cause inside you're ugly
You're ugly like me
I can see through you
See to the real you

All this time that I felt like this won't end
Was for you
And I taste what I could never have
It's from you
All those times that I tried, my intention, full of pride
And I waste more time than anyone

But I'm on the outside
I'm looking in
I can see through you
See your true colors
'Cause inside you're ugly
You're ugly like me
I can see through you
See to the real you

All the times that I've cried
All this wasted, it's all inside
And I feel, all this pain, stuffed it down
It's back again
And I lie here in bed, all alone, I can't mend
And I feel tomorrow will be okay

But I know

That I'm on the outside
I'm looking in
I can see through you
See your true colors
'Cause inside you're ugly
You're ugly like me
I can see through you
See to the real you

Aaron Lewis feat. Fred Durst

I liked the song above a lot when I heard it this morning.

That's about all the time and inspiration I have for today. Now I have to go break open my head and watch my brains dribble out on a keyboard... ie, work as a writer.

Sometimes there is just nothing there, no matter how deep you dig in the dirt. But when its your job, it has to be there.

That kinda sucks.

Tomorrow will be better.

Everything broke

The following is most of an actual email I sent my boss today and it is all true. It has been a day I am glad to see the end of. -- The picture is by Nova.

Hi Dave

Sorry I didn't get to the Goulais story today.

Dana wanted me to bake her a cake for her cast party today. I told her I would do it as soon as I did the vacuuming. The vacuum clogged and I had to take it apart before I could make my white fur area rug green again.

Then the mixer burnt out on the double cake batter batch. Damn that mocha chocolate cake recipe!

Then the toilet broke and I ran out of hot water because the washing machine timer broke and the washer kept emptying and refilling with warm water. When the water heated up enough for me to have a shower so I could go get the part for the toilet and a new mixer it was time to take Dana to her cast party... with no cake.

It was such a beautiful day that I turned right instead of left after dropping Dana off and ended up at Bellevue Park with Nova for a wonderful hour or so before heading off to WalMart for supplies. Nova was an awesome helper and I only came home with about an extra $50 worth of stuff I didn't intend to buy today but did need for the house. (Including a very sweet 18v cordless drill and nifty set of bits and drivers to go with it -- I am not even going to try them today, though)

When I returned home with the part, tools to repair the toilet and a new mixer, it was time to cook dinner. After dinner I fixed the toilet and tried to make the frosting for the cakes I had finished without a mixer.

The second mixer I bought had a great motor. It wrapped the blades around themselves so that one of them looked like a corkscrew in about 45 seconds. I would have taken a picture of it, but Ami had my camera because she wanted to cover a ballet (which she didn't get to cover but I'll let her tell you about that). Obviously, I still had the box and receipt. Back to WalMart I went.

Mixer number three of the day worked out really well and now my mocha chocolate scratch cakes have yummy pink peppermint butter-cream frosting on them.

My kitchen is a mess because I said 'screw this' then watched Harry Potter and ate cake with Dana after Nova went to bed.

So, now I'm emailing you (as per your request) to remind you of tomorrow's telethon. The clocks change forward an hour tonight. We are supposed to be at Council Chambers by 10:15 a.m. tomorrow. We are on air between 11 and 12 a.m. to answer phones. I can pick you up on the way by if you like.

I'll be up by 8:30 with the girls if you would like to give me a call about a ride.

Tomorrow is likely to be a better day than today! -- especially with that bounty I have on the gremlins in my house.

And that is only about half of the everyday adventures that occupied my day today.

It's a beautiful chaotic mass of organic nature and I revel in it.