the candid files

I had something else to say – but I forget it now.

This is a letter to my daughter
Should she ever come to be
Should the apple ever fall
And look up at the tree…

Don’t look to those around you
For pointers on this life
I’m not a great example
Of a friend, a sister, wife…

Please understand my faulty
parts are all a part of me
I hope you’ll love me anyway
And yet, still – be free!

I plan to teach you everything
I know, and probably more
Things I have no right to teach
From the memories I’ve stored

If I ever scream at you
Please love me anyway
I’m finding that it’s hard to do
Honest, though, please stay.

Your grandma says I’ll understand
when you have come to be
I hope I learn from these mistakes
and love you when you’re me.

- CV

If anyone ever says they’ve got life figured out, then don’t believe them – they’re further away from it then you are.

You know how we compartmenalize our lives? I know I do. Not content – well I do, but that’s not what I’m speaking of here. Time.
I started of life in that 1-5 year stage of “child”. Then I started school, and I was a “kid”. That one lasted about 8 years or so. High school introduced “teenager” and finally there was a period of about two years where I was “high school graduate morphing into college student”.
In the blink of an eye that’s over too – and now I’m in another transition period. One the one hand I’m the “single working girl” and on the other, the “older kid who’s hard to boss around” and then there is a big part of me just waiting around until the “mature, adult, married woman” version of me shows up.

Right now I barely can comprehend what life will be like more than say two years down the road. “Home-owner”? “Mother”? “WeightWatcher”? Hmmm…

What disturbs me is the way all these things can happen – the way life can naturally progress – without really being too involved. I mean, obviously we’re involved…we fight, we cry, we cause problems, we make love, sometimes sexually – we work, we take initiative and make calls and decisions and send emails and work with musical notes to make some sort of harmony. But what happens then?

Maybe this whole life is the introduction. The introduction to an eternity of something more detailed than this.

Probably if my life were a novel I wouldn’t have gripped you yet, even though you’ve stuck it out to chapter 5. I really appreciate it. I promise – don’t give up on me – and maybe at some point, just maybe, you won’t be able to put me down. I think the only reason for that is that somewhere in eternity there’s a God who chose to help me write this story.

Mothers are really just children in gray hair, did you know that?

What can I say except that it’s Tuesday (which is better than Monday) and I have a coffee (which is better than not) and I applied for a better position at work (which I’m 90% sure I’ll get) and I might start playing the piano for church (which is a great way to use a talent) and I don’t feel sick (which is better than last week) and I could barely wake up this morning (which means my bed is really comfy) and the sun is shining (which I like, although I also like rain) and I have Marriage Counselling tonight (at which I hope to learn some life skills I can apply to my whole life, including but not limited to, marriage) and I’m going to work now (which is where I make money) and my car’s muffler is broken (which makes it sound like a hotrod) and the whole of my father’s family is inept at speaking to each other seriously (but they’re really good at sending each other silly emails) and I can’t remember my ring size, and neither can my boyfriend (but at least I have nice fingers) and I’m in love with Peter (and there really is no way to put a better spin on that, it’s just. plain. good.)

It’s been a good weekend.

On Friday night Peter and I went to Indigo – and browsed for an hour or so. Then on Saturday, as you know, I was really bored, until about 5 when Peter showed up and we went to the FCB – wow, we really had a thing for bookstores this weekend. Well we had an excuse for the FCB, and we didn’t buy anything.

Ok so on Saturday night we met Sarah and Kev at the West Plains Bistro for dinner. The food was ok, but the service was EXCELLENT – lol Justine. And the martini I had on a totally empty stomach was *great*. Really, it was good. Just very alchoholic, as I found out the hard way.

There’s an issue I’m researching right now – due in part to the discussion the four of us had that night. Maybe you can help me – if you have any answers, please do post a comment:

What can you say to comfort the believing parent whose child has died? Can you tell any parent that their child is in heaven, for certain? I have some ideas on this – but I want to know what others think. This seems like an issue that everyone sort of overlooks.

You know it’s Saturday afternoon and it shouldn’t be?

I am so bored, I am wasting a perfectly good day off with nothing. to. do. Oh, I could do extra housework, yes, yes I could thanks ma…

I bought a book yesterday. Eleanor Rigby, by Douglas Coupland. It is looking good. But I have to pace myself as I am nearly half way through it, and I bought it to help me make it through all those long lunch hours at work.

If I had unlimited funds I would buy books. I would buy books about love stories and mysteries and feast on pages full of words. I would thrill myself with the writings of the greatest theologians of all time – I would stretch my brain somehow, although I cannot promise I would read a lot non fiction on, say, birdwatching or something intelligent like that. I would buy the most beautiful works of poetry and memorize some…poetry about life and sadness and how it feels to get over sadness…love poems that I could whisper in my amazing man’s ear.

On Thursday I came home sick from work. I curled up on my bed and slept for a while, but then later I woke up and since I had nothing to read I started naming my children. Come now, don’t tell me you haven’t done that…I was thinking about Bible names, so I picked up my Bible and read some Old Testament stuff. Honestly, I think it was the first time in a long time I picked up my Bible, not to study, or to devote myself to the worship of God, but just to read. I read the story of Isaac – and then Jacob and Esau…I read the story of Jacob’s wives, Leah and Rachel – and I don’t think I’ve ever thought so closely about the remarkable way that the children of Israel were born. Since I was thinking about names, I read with particular interest the naming of all the little Israelites, soon to be heads of tribes.

Genesis 29:
31 When the LORD saw that Leah was unloved, He opened her womb; but Rachel was barren. 32 So Leah conceived and bore a son, and she called his name Reuben; for she said, “The LORD has surely looked on my affliction. Now therefore, my husband will love me.”(Reuben means See, a Son) 33 Then she conceived again and bore a son, and said, “Because the LORD has heard that I am unloved, He has therefore given me this son also.” And she called his name Simeon.(which means Heard) 34 She conceived again and bore a son, and said, “Now this time my husband will become attached to me, because I have borne him three sons.” Therefore his name was called Levi.(which means Attached) 35 And she conceived again and bore a son, and said, “Now I will praise the LORD.” Therefore she called his name Judah. (Which means Praise)Then she stopped bearing.

Amazing, isn’t it? I was imagining myself in Leah’s shoes. Unloved, uneducated, and for a while, barren. Nothing to live for! But then the boys – Reuben, Simeon, Levi, – even so, I really doubt they made her feel completely fulfilled. I wonder if she held a grudge against God for the way her life had ended up. But I guess Leah learned to find happiness somewhere else – for when Judah was born, she named him “praise” – because she had decided to praise the Lord.

What’s in a name?

So this morning I woke up from a half dream that seemed incredibly real to the unearthly sounds of my dog crying. After ten minutes I couldn’t stand it and I also heard voices, so I went upstairs.

Most of you don’t know this, but we had our concrete garage floor poured this morning, (finally) so there’s like three big trucks here, and my parents are outside bending over my dog, who seems awfully close to the wheels of the truck. I nearly had a heart attack thinking that someone ran over my dog when all of a sudden Chinook limped away a couple feet. She was holding her front left paw up in the air and crying. At first I thought, ok – maybe she has a broken leg…

But no. My dumb dog, as it turns out, attacked a porcupine.

So dad had her wedged in a big bear hug type of thing, and they had pliers out, and they were trying to pull the quills out. I guess they got a few of them. But she still has a couple in her leg. Poor puppy.

Anyway, that’s the drama for Monday morning. I had a good weekend at the Pinery – lovely weather, my Oma and Peter’s grandparents and a whole crowd of brothers and sisters…but it was good. And we’re going back in two weeks!

Time to get ready for work.

wow – I have to go to work. But this is just funny.

I was randomly flipping through the channels last night, and in one of those fluke things that only happens once in a while, I clicked the remote and suddenly this woman who looked strangely familiar was standing there holding a microphone up to a teenage guy. “and this is Dave Schuurman,” she said…and proceeded to “interview” Dave for a minute or two about what he was doing at this banquet thing – I think it was a volunteer appreciation night from Cogeco. And they discussed his outfit, which was “black, and grey” So that was sort of bizarre. Of course, then I had to keep watching her talking to random people at the event, and wouldn’t you know, she then runs into her cousin – who happens to be the intensely scary woman who works at Shopper’s Drug Mart at Mapleview Mall in Burlington. (YOU know her – if you’re from Burlington – I know you do) And they were talking about how the “interviewer” (I think she’s a news anchor) always comes into Shopper’s and the scary lady (Whose name is CANDACE – yikes now that I know that – I’ve always hated my name, have I mentioned that recently?) rescues her from her beauty dilemmas. I’ve always sort of thought that this scary woman needs to wear less makeup, take her voice down at least an octave, and stop following customers around the store. But apparently she’s at three different Shopper’s now. Poor people.

And that was the highlight of my exciting Thursday night.

I’ve been a fulltime worker for two months and four days. And I’ve decided to go back to school.

Not on a fulltime basis! – not even really a part-time basis. I’ve decided to register for just one course through McMaster’s Centre for Continuing Education. “Writing for Children: The Ultimate Challenge”. I’m a little nervous – the time for this course works out perfectly, but the school strongly suggests that you take these other two courses first: “Forms of Writing” and “Introduction to Writing and Publishing”. I would consider taking those, but the times are all wrong considering I have a fulltime job. So I’m really not sure if I’ll have the basics.
Still, I have to give myself a pep talk…I know I can write decently well. Maybe I’ve slipped a little over the past few years, but give me an idea and some creative juices flowing, and I absolutely love it.

I love words.

So in an effort to not feel like I’m sleeping for this next year or so – to stimulate my mind, or to keep it from melting away – I’m going to take a course. You know what else is cool? The guy who teaches it was a finalist for the Stephen Leacock Humour award. Which means he might be funny!

I may have to clear it with my boss – because if things don’t work out as I’m hoping they will at work it may still conflict with work times. But I have faith!

Funny, now that I’m considering doing some serious writing, looking at this blog makes me so frustrated. I have a few hurdles to clamber over. Wish me luck – or better than that, offer a prayer up to God that I can better serve Him with a little extra brain work.