An Andrea, by definition, does not whine. So I don't know exactly what to call the terse email that showed up in my inbox suggesting that I write a post. More than one, actually.
Okay. So the blog and I have been having time apart like nobody's business, and that's not quite the way that I want it to be. I want to be taking beautiful and amazing pictures of my life to post up here and share with loved ones who are still learning just how crazy I can be.
Oh. Right. Beautiful & amazing. I want to say that the problem is that my life isn't living up to that vision. And that's true, in part - the house is an absolute mess - not a joyfilled crafty mess nor an in-progress-growing kind of mess, just a pile of stuff on the floor I don't really like to look at, ugly space in my house, and, yes, my head.
I have been trying to clear out the debris -both physical and mental, and it's working, but the thing I kind of forgot to do was replace that mess with a vision of what I do want - so it lurks in corners of my mind, in pages of magazine spreads I've saved, not really willing to reveal the bigger plan or even let me know where the next step is.
And I do want to create that coherent vision, want to be one of those people whose house becomes a lovely vision of how they want their spaces to be, and is able to execute - this being one example that I envy - especially given the circumstances under which it occurred.
I don't even want to think about the idea that a cohesive vision won't just present itself - that I'm going to have to work and dream one up. I'm applying for school and trying to get a certain certification under my belt at the same time - how many ways are there to suggest that it's not going to happen just yet. (Oh, but the promis of February makes me want to reneg!).
That, I think, is quite enough of that. I am waiting on a book to be able to dig in and study, I am waiting on my brain (and that's not the best idea I've ever had, let me tell you) to be able to finish applying. I am scattered to the wind, all over the place, 100 ways from Thursday of not being able to ever *do* anything, not quite. Enough.
I long for spring and spring dresses and I need to remind myself that sitting down and making them in a day or so is a real possibility (because they're light, airy spring skirts, so it seems - just sew some seams).
So. I made up a half-assed strawberry sorbet - no recipe just mashed and blended frozen strawberries with sugar and a little water until it was done. I wrote some conceptual poetry - bad, probably, but important.
And then. I dragged my sewing machine down from on high where it had been resting for too long, and we talked. I spent 3 or 4 hours just sewing and pressing and cutting in a sort of timeless place where it was just me and the last season of Coupling - a good place to be, really. I ended up with 2 mostly pieced pillow tops - both sort of from patterns and sort of just from me, seaming the first part of a stuffed cat and trying my first paper piecing (which, holy crap, sort of super-duper fun times there).
I am going to try to have *that* kind of week. We'll see what happens.
Not this movie: http://www.pajiba.com/pirates-who-dont-do-anything-the-a-veggietales-movie.htm
But definitely this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LiBACkvosq0
Flurry - and in a house with a Buddy and a Lucio, I do feel a need to apologize for the name - is one of the cats that lived with my mother and me about a million (10) years ago. She and her sister came to us as kittens, from a pair of people who called this little one "Elvis" because of a streak of gray on her forehead that reminded them of a pompadour (long since faded away). Fleur is one of the only two cats that came to me as a kitten - her sister is the other. This one is insane, she is a little pathetic, and there is a family tradition that dictates that she's delicate - she sleeps more deeply than a cat should, and has been on medications for a congenital heart murmur for many years now. And yet she's a survivor, I think, brave and accepting of new situations, willing to try new things.
And she's mine. Lucio is my cat in the way that a dog is yours, he follows me around, greets strangers, worries about food all the time and is faithful. Flurry, though, is ultimately catlike. She waits for me in comfort on my bed - which she still allows me to share for the time being. Or, actually, a more accurate description, in my bed, amongst pillows and blankets, buried down into a warm cave she's made. Tonight I crashed on the bed next to her, and she washed my arm for a bit before - gently as anything and with nary a razor-sharp claw in sight - she reached out a paw in an attempt to play with the shiny pink thing in my nose (my piercing).
I am happy to have her here, though I won't describe the circumstances for fear of sounding bitter (suffice it to say that it's unfortunate that we can't handle two more cats and keep her sister from potential harm or confusion as well). But Flurry is settling in, the hissing is becoming less frequent, and we're starting to settle in to wait for spring.
My Christmas rather fundamentally failed at actually being any good as a Christmas. It was strange and split up, tossed between houses and provinces, no turkey ever materialized, and I cried on the day (but such is life).
We ended up moving mid-December, houses, lives, everything, picked up over the course of a week and transported to a strange new place with new rules and an adjustment to my art arrangements (welcomed, actually), and then I took off for Saskatoon where my venerable father just barely celebrates - no tree, no lights, no baking, just peace and joy - and I take it, but a holiday season it does not make. My mother, on the other hand, was with her new family, decorating and presenting and generally being foreign to me so I borrowed the computer and im-ed people I was missing - yes I did it!
New Year's Eve was quiet, peaceful, too - I worked until 8, then got chauffeured around to various locales and people by an amazing friend who gave me a most awesome late Christmas present - maybe the best of the season. We met up with another friend before midnight and were trying to make it to yet another friend's apartment when midnight hit, so we stood outside, freezing, with a great view of fireworks in downtown Edmonton. It was a just-right, quiet but joyful night and I was with people who light my life as much as the fireworks.
I wish you amazing things in 2008 - unimaginable, beautiful surprises that break your heart and make you laugh.
