Land of Aporia

How can you tell when a woman is 'with friend'?  Perhaps it's because her moods swing like a monkey on a bungee cord.   One minute this morning I was packing up my guitar for a lesson, the next I was on the phone and making excuses.  And for some reason I had the need to feel somewhat feminin today, so I'm wearing a nice faded-green skort, a dressier tan t-shirt, matching earrings, and a necklace... add the effort of a headband for my hair and some make-up: voila, you have quite the effort for me.  And what to do you know, it's time to move the spinkler again... That's what I have to do today... move the sprinkler every hour...  So, I'm seeing myself all dudded up and going out there, picking up that muddy hose, getting drenched, and dragging the sprinkler around in my nice little outfit...  and Glen wonders why I don't bother...

 

I'm still stressed out from my work day yesterday... it was frustrating to say the least... the cherry moment being the one where my boss is waiting for me to email her a letter that we need to send to a student and the wireless mouse craps out on me... change the batteries twice, try both connect buttons... nothing...  Then I'm running around the house trying to find another wireless keyboard and mouse, which, as it turns out, don't work either, then changing the batteries in those, no help, and running around again looking for my old corded keyboard and mouse.  Thank god for reliable inferior technology.  Yeah... it was a great day to get my period. 

 

Glen doesn't understand why I let myself get so worked up.  He calmly points out that it doesn't do me any good, that it's very detrimental to my physical and emotional well-being, and that there are always going to be bigger concerns so I need to get a better grip on myself.  All of which is true, which makes me even more ticked off.  The last thing I want to hear when I'm upset is that I shouldn't be upset.  Of course I know that.  Glen, and I really do love him to death, does not seem to understand women that well.  Or maybe he does understand and just doesn't sympathize... whatever... sometimes I'd just like to stick a pad in his underwear and tell him to go off and bleed for a few days...

 

But the mood swing won't last forever... heck, they're not even as bad as they used to be.  The lifestyle change has helped tremendously.  I'm sure it's the reason I didn't burst into tears yesterday when I changed the mouse batteries for the third time and they still didn't work.  And it wasn't all bad yesterday. I had my regular two-week visit to the naturopath yesterday. 

 

I don't know if Jason was just in a good mood or whether my you-got-your-period-oh-that's-too-bad-dear fairy godmother was looking out for me, but Jason was all positive, saying how well I'd been doing and how impressed he was.  We did my body analysis and it turned out that my hard work: fighting temptation to eat off-limit food, pushing myself to jog further every time, and lots of muscle soreness from weightlifting for the last two weeks really paid off... I gained 2.5 lbs of muscle and lost 1.9 lbs of fat.  All the more reason to not look at the scale because of course it only registered a .4 lb loss from last time, but in terms of body composition, it's almost a 5 lb difference.  That's the best result I've had in ages, which is doubly amazing considering I've been feeling very stressed these last two weeks.  Nothing makes your body hold on to your fat for dear life like stress.  And because the visit was so short, less than 15 minutes, Jason didn't even charge me for it.  Yup, methinks I'm putting Jason on my Christmas card list! 

 

So, about half way through the last paragraph it was time to move the sprinkler... thanks to two degrees in university I managed to outsmart the little bastard and not get wet.  What a sound financial investment my education was. 

 

Back to the issue at hand.  The trouble with being dressed up is that I don't feel like I should be working.  In the past, any time I had a skirt on I was definitely going somewhere... a recital, a supper, an anniversary... not staying at home unloading the dishwaser, moving the sprinkler, and marking student papers. I'm somewhat overdressed for circling commas. 

 

Crusty... I'm just crusty.  I should just go back to bed, but then I'd wreck my hair.  Another reason to resent being girly.  It interferes with my procrastination schedule. 

A year ago I was still living on my own, used to, albeit not entirely happy with, the silence of being alone.  It's my third day of reliving what it was like, and I am acutely, and thankfully temporarily, aware of just how miserable I was.  I remember now what it was like to wake up with no one to greet in the morning, no one crunching cereal beside me for breakfast, no one to make lunches or meals for, and no one to share the totally insignificant details of my day with.  Knowing how easy it would be to get down in the dumps, I've been keeping myself busy with marking and exercise during the days and a movie or chatting with friends and family for the evening.  But I miss Glen.

 

I keep the radio on to fill up the silence... I'm surprised I haven't reverted back to CBC.  I haven't been as well informed since I moved here and started listning to music on the radio again instead of the news.  I think now about my last apartment in Brandon... how my first act when I got home was to walk into the kitchen and switch on the little ivory radio that sat on top of the stove.  I got better reception on that old radio than on my brand new 5 CD stereo.  Probably there was even more to it than that.

 

My early childhood memories contain the image of the radio in the kitchen at home.  It always used to sit on top of the old silver and wood veneer bread box beside the T.V.  If I managed to get up early to see Mom before she left for work, I could always count on the radio being on and tuned to CKLQ country, the smell of her morning coffee filling the kitchen, and the quiet country music providing its consistent banter.  Knowing it wasn't cool to like country at my elementary school age, I was never very fond of the station then, unless it was winter.  CKLQ was the station everyone tuned into when the weather went bad and there was a chance the schools would be closed or the buses wouldn't run.  It was the station that played in mom's car and lulled me to sleep in the back seat on late drives home.  It was the station that played on weekend mornings when my parents were both home and we'd have bacon and eggs, or french toast with syrup, or pancakes with sausages for breakfast after watching cartoons or coming home from church.  A responsible station... upright... conservative.  Good. 

 

Since then, I think every time I turned on that little ivory radio in my kitchen I was confirming that I'd become an adult, a good adult who listened to a responsible station, though my need for the sound of voices eventually drew me from CKLQ to CBC.   Or maybe it was that I couldn't get reception for CKLQ in Hamiota where I first started the radio thing.  I have a terrible memory, which is why I do this writing... saving the pieces. 

 

There are so few pieces that I remember.  For some reason, I struggled a moment ago to remember the breadbox... first I wondered if it was it copper?  No... then the foggy image of wood veneer and a silver door... but now that I really think about it, I realize I've combined the one from the lake with the one from home... My mom still uses the canisters that matched the bread box... wood veneer with tarnished copper tops...  the breadbox with the silver door was the one from the lake...  and why I'm spending my energy trying to visualize the differences in those two breadboxes is beyond me, but it's a detail that's still there if I fight hard enough for it.  Somehow that's reassuring.  If the old breadbox is still rattling around in my memories, perhaps there is more that I could reach back to with enough threads of memory tied together. 

 

And musing about breadboxes has managed to keep me from feeling lonely for another twenty minutes until it's now late enough that I can consider going to bed and actually falling asleep without Glen. 

 

 

 

I reached down for the shower knob, anticipating the warm assault of silky water that would rush over my head, rinsing out the shampoo from my hair and the remaining bubble bath from my skin. 

 

I turned the shower knob. 

 

...

 

Nothing...

 

I turned the shower knob again.

 

...

 

Strange... I'd just had a bath... the lights were all still on, so the power hadn't gone out.

 

I tried the knob one more time.

 

...

 

Something was wrong.

 

I climbed out of the tub, dripping of course, and checked the taps on the sink. 

 

...

 

Again, nothing. 

 

Knowing I will have to go downstairs now, and that whatever is wrong is probably something I wouldn't know how to fix anyway, I gave a scrunched look at the silent cell phone lying on the computer desk that Glen had forgotten to take with him to work this morning.

 

After one step on the basement stairs, my ears alerted me that something was more than just a little wrong.  The heavy sound of rushing water called me flying down the stairs, clutching my towel.  Water everywhere... pouring, gushing, and spouting out of a hose that looked like it had something to do with the water softener.  Turn off a valve, my mind grasped!  Which one?  What if I grabbed a valve that had something to do with hot water and the water started coming out hot?  My plumbing ignorance made my heart pound faster... more and more water was still rushing out of the hose.  One of the empty water jugs we use for drinking was floating now on the rising water around it.

 

I decided to guess and stepped off a soaking wet mat towards the pipes.  A sensation... tingling... WRONG! I lept back.  A power bar with several items plugged into it was submerged under the water right where I'd stepped.  I hadn't thought about all the electrical cords on the floor.  Jesus.  Water everywhere and power bars on the floor.  Now my heart was thumping inside my chest... I was genuinely scared now... if I stepped in it again with my bare feet would it shock me again?  Best to try something else...

 

I looked at the electrical panel... there was a big black switch... I didn't really know what it was for, but I was really hoping it would shut everything off... but there was a bit of water that I'd have to step in to shut it off... oh god... but what else could I do?  Trust Glen to leave his phone at home today...

 

In a panic, I ran upstairs and called home to my dad...  I was having trouble explaining what was going on... my voice was shaking and I was rushing through my words...  "I think it's the main power switch, but I'm not sure..." I told him.  The longer I hesitated, the more water was spreading across the floor.  I ran back downstairs and took my chances, pushing hard on the big black switch above all the breakers. 

 

The water stopped rushing, the lights went out, and the phone went dead. 

 

I stood there for a moment just breathing...

 

Dad would be worried.

 

I went upstairs to find my cell phone and call him, but the line stayed busy for a couple minutes.  I would have to track down Glen somehow.  There was a business card in my wallet.  I dialed the business number.

 

"Hello."

 

"Hi, I'm looking to track down Glen Westberg.  He left his cell phone here and I have a really important call for him.  Is there a way I can reach him?"

 

"It's Glen."

 

I didn't even recognize his voice, but I rushed on trying to tell him everything that had happened. 

 

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

 

By now, my heart had decreased from a mad pounding to a tolerable thumping.  Now what.  First things first... put on some clothes.  My hair still full of soap, I went upstairs and put on some sweats, grabbed some garbage bags, and then headed back into the basement, moving things out of the water and into the dry areas.  Glen arrived shortly.  Reliving all the excitement over, I explained to him how I'd found things and tried to turn things off but had gotten shocked.  Glen continued to unplug things and clean up. 

 

Within a few more minutes we had all the mats up, the floor mopped, the electricity back on, and fans going. 

 

It wasn't that bad thanks to the very large floor drain.

 

Glen went back to work after I requested a hug, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the excitement.  Not knowing what to do in a situation is the worst feeling.  According to Dad, turning off the main switch while I was near water was probably not a wise idea... but I had to do something.  Glen didn't say much.  At least he didn't seem too mad.

 

We're supposed to go on a date tonight to see Transformers... an attempt to try and spend some happier time together after several weeks of busy work and tense stress...

 

I'm thinking maybe Friday the 13th isn't the best choice...

 

 

Bloody hell I'm bored. 

 

I've done absolutely nothing... got up, made Glen's lunch, waited until he headed off for Dauphin, and then went back to bed... upon getting up, I roamed around the house, put away a few things, surfed, and squandered more time...

 

I'm getting myself into a right gloomy mood... It used to be that every day was a day on my own... not that I was always successful at overcoming the gloom that seems to accompany too much time on my particular hands then either, but lord... I've done nothing but socialize all week, and one day of silence and I'm alack, alas, and woebegone.  Pathetic.

 

Perhaps it's because I'm making a point of not calling Glen.  I've been phoning him too often... a few times a day while he's at work... it's a bad habit.  But it does help break up the day to talk to him.  He needs his 'boy' time though...

 

What I need is a walk... some time outside... but I'm sulky... I DON'T WANNA.  It's good to be 30 and yet still 5. 

 

Blah.

I'm quite the social butterfly this week!

 

Mom and Dad are on their way back to Douglas this morning after a nice little visit for a couple days.  They arrived on Wednesday afternoon.  Glen and I made supper for them (mmm... Dad brought spinach from the garden) and then we were off to Glen's folks so that I could practise with Glen's mom for an upcoming gig.  Of course, the evening also presented an opportunity for my dad and Joe, the fiddle player Corinne plays with, to do a little jamming together.  My dad was right into it, and Mom was keeping a close eye on how Corinne was chording on the piano as my mom is still trying to learn.  It was a very entertaining evening to say the least!

 

Yesterday, Shane came for breakfast and then we went to Lower Fort Garry for a few hours.  I've never been there, though I've driven by it many times now.  I'd probably have spent more time going through and reading more of the history, but I don't think my brother Shane is quite as intrigued by historical events and names as I am.  We went through all the buildings, visited with the Parks people, many of whom were dressed up and in character, and then made our way back to the parking lot.  Shane was eager to have us come into Winnipeg for a visit to his place, so we made our way into Winnipeg.  I took Mom to Costco and managed to spend some more money... that place gets me every time.  Then we went to Hangers... I was soooo close to buying a dress...  I'm almost, but not quite at the point where dresses are starting to look flattering on me.  About another 10 lbs and maybe my tummy will finally start cooperating with my clothes.  Still... I look at the pictures of me from yesterday and even I don't recognize myself compared to a year ago.  It just fuels me up to work harder... still haven't got back in gear with exercising since starting all this crazy hypo-allergenic eating... hopefully this week... which is what I said last week, but oh well... there's still progress!!

 

Last night we came home and of course we had to do some more playing, this time with Glen.  I've really put Glen on the spot this week.  He has SOOOO much to do to prepare for his parents' 50th wedding anniversary, including gutting and building a bathroom in one week while still working during the days, and the timing of that has coincided with all my company coming for a visit this week.  I'm lucky he's a patient man.  I definitely owe him one.

 

But when it comes to family, I soak up every chance I get to enjoy the good times.  Sitting across from my dad this morning at the table, watching him as he talks about an old video he got in his email, the "Ooops, I pooped my pants" video about adult diapers to be exact, and seeing and hearing him giggle like an excited little kid while my mother shakes her head, it makes me glad I have them to appreciate, that my parents are who they are... I love those moments.  I guess events keep unfolding that make me realize how lucky I am to be a bit like both of them... sometimes as excited as a little kid, and others as indulgingly rueful as my mother. 

 

Tonight, I'm heading back into Winnipeg for my annual Shakespeare in the Ruins fix with Kathy!  I never did get around to reading or even browsing through the play... I'll see how well I do watching it from scratch.  Exercise for the brain!    And I'm long overdue for a visit with Miss Ringland!  I still owe her a movie night from when we had our party here ages ago.  She's also moved and I haven't had a chance to see her in her new-to-her digs!

 

Always too busy.  Thank god crackbook isn't working at the moment... (she says, typing away on her msn page instead)

 

On Saturday, I made it to Winnipeg airport with five minutes to spare only to find out Maia's plane was delayed another 12 minutes. 

 

Maia's last visit home to Canada was 3 years ago.  It's hard to believe.  A lot has happened in both our lives in 3 years.  I quit teaching and left Hamiota, went through one relationship and started another, and moved twice.  But still, despite my lack of writing when I should, we managed to stay in contact and keep up with one another's joys and sorrows. 

 

Maia and I met in university.  We were in Jim's drama class together.  Surprisingly, drama turned out to be the most pragmatic of the courses I took in all my university days.  I gained more from that class, and from its 'professor' than I did in any other.  It was a different class right from the start as we did not address our instructor traditionally as "Mr. Forsythe".  It seems blasphemous to even write such a stuffy and bland title for such a passionate and insightful being... and for someone who gave me the most profound opportunities for personal and emotional development that I've ever known.  Though only three letters long, "Jim" says so much more to me... Jim is the deep calm I can rediscover any time I remember his voice at the start of every drama class... calmly, confidently, talking us through a relaxation process... putting all my cares and worries in a box that I put on the shelf for awhile while my body focuses on warming, growing heavy, and melting its way into the floor until I'm on the edge of sleep.  'Jim' is the courage I discovered to take risks with my personality... the courage to lead others rather than just follow as I had my entire high school life, the courage to bring all my pain and enthusiasm into play when I interacted with others, the courage to take one of the most painful experiences of my childhood and turn it into a creative experience for others, and later, the courage I would need to leave everything I've ever known and travel to the other side of the world for an adventure.  'Jim' is the search I have inside myself to see if there is more... to look for the door, and then walk through it.  That is the context in which Maia and I forged a relationship, so it is one that resounds with meaning, memories, and maturation.

 

Seeing her again on Saturday, the tears started to flow as soon as I saw her on the escalator.  It was a wonderful hug!!  It's wonderful to rediscover good friendships, to know that they can withstand time, distance, and sadly, even my neglect.  And even though it was a short visit, we managed to find some good moments... watching a fantastic movie about the world of drama - Stage Beauty - I loved it!  I can't believe I'd never heard of it, but for one who loves the stage, it's a movie you can chew on.  Though we didn't get through it in one sitting.  Saturday night we were interrupted by the recent violent weather.  We went downstairs and watched the moving clouds and lightning out the window for awhile.  The sky turned green and the clouds were moving in odd directions... disturbing in light of the tornado that hit Elie on Friday.  I also got a call from Shelley who was on the phone with dad watching a tail form on a cloud near Brandon.  It wasn't long before the power was out.  I'd made some attempt to track down a flashlight, but I never did manage to coordinate a working flashlight with new batteries.  I was soon hunting for candles in the dark, but I did finally produce some light.  By then, the storm and picked up and the wind was whipping rain against the house.  It seemed prudent to take both Maia and myself into the basement, so we gathered our candles, a couple blankets, and some cheap wine (I selected a fine red merlot encased in a pleasing tetra pak from our hutch for the occasion) and descended into the depths.  We were soon giggling and counting our storm survival assets, which included a saw, a toilet, and a teepee.  There's nothing like being curled up in a blanket by candlelight in a basement while a storm is raging outside to rekindle a good bout of friendly lunacy. 

 

But eventually the storm settled, the lights came back on, and Glen came home from his gig in Winnipeg... all was well. 

 

On Sunday, we went for a glorious walk.  Living in a city surrounded by desert, Maia was thrilled to be surrounded by the green fields and fresh air.  For a moment we just stood and looked out across the fields, the sound of frogs croaking in the water filled ditches and the wind blowing a refreshing breeze on our faces... just a nice, quiet moment spent with a friend... lovely.  Later that afternoon,  I subjected Maia to a bbq that Glen and I were playing old time music at for a friend.  We each ate copious cuts of cow, and for the first time since taking my hypo-allergenic diet seriously, I ate food I wasn't supposed to... some baked potatoes, bbq sauce, and various other unidentified offenders.  Poor Maia... getting going was a feedback full fiasco, but she sat and smiled and chatted with those around her.  We spent the evening talking... girl talk mostly... though we did stop to watch Glen get eaten by swarms of mosquitoes as he tried to mow the lawn... the man is relentless. 

 

She's visiting with her family now, but I hope we'll get another chance to catch up and get together.  'This weekend!'