'Bye For Now

Gotta go, cheerio.

Maybe They Really Do Keep You Young

These four young women spent the afternoon at my place getting ready for Hallowe'en. From stage right to stage left: The Cat In The Hat Thinks It's St. Patrick's Day; a china doll; an old lady; and Medusa. When I started my day, my insides felt liquefied with stress over everything, everything, everything. I didn't know how I was going to manage the care and feeding of 4 teenagers after school. They turned out to be a joy and a delight, their energy just turned it all around. They left around 6 with The Single Dad - who actually carved a pumpkin in about two minutes and didn't even make a mess (watch, I'll find it all shoved under the sofa).

Ah. I am peaceful, got a couple of candles burning, some good music on, letting my Hallowe'en thoughts meander, and wondering if I'll have to eat all these Rockets by myself. My home is so clean and tidy it sparkles. I haven't seen it like this since we moved in. oh, how relaxing it is to be able to see the edges.

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Packing, Moving, Packing, Moving, Packing The Stuff, Moving The Energy

Here's a selection from my Playlist: Music By Which To Pack This one's Georgie and Her Rival, Elvis Costello, love the lyrics

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The Playlist:

Aretha Franklin - a homemade compilation (including Move With The Spirit, of course)
The Cure - Bloodflowers
Elvis Costello - Mighty Like A Rose
Hedwig & The Angry Inch
Xavier Rudd

Chiding Oneself For One's Idiosyncracies

HaH, try playing the google game with that string of words! I think I will, actually, right after I regurgitate my latest thoughts - and the grossness ends there - for the enjoyment of my reader. er, readers?

or perhaps there's a soul out there who shares this proclivity of mine.

I got off work early today and still with all the vigor one could need to tackle The Packing. Got home about 3pm and by 3:20 had the new bchomesforsale.com sign up and had tried out my second sales pitch to some interested drivers-by. But the whole time, part of me was itching to get to The Packing; the attack upon which I'd been planning in my head for the previous 4 hours while I cleaned the hotel and dodged The Deerhunter who hates my sweet adorable little guts. oooh, those mean beady eyes upon me, it's a wonder I can make beds so expertly under those conditions, ahem.

The voice of procrastination started out as a whisper. It became louder and LOUDER, urging me to indulge my Idiosyncracy. "But I must break the cycle", I affirmed, firmly. "Everything does NOT have to be perfect before you make it more perfect!"
(I'm thinking this, I have not progressed to the point of actually talking to myself out loud)(all in good time)
But then I thought in reply, "Ah, that is quite an assumption." See, I do have an urge to kind of set the stage for an activity. I want to get the practicalities out of the way, get a load of washing on, get the stove going, choose some Housecleaning/Packing/Painting/Whathaveyou MUSIC, maybe have a nice bath and put some homey clothes on, preferably my lilac hemp silk sundress on with my brown cardigan and lace leggings. I've done it all my life, gotten everything ready first. And, in the course of all this mental blathering, I came 'round to thinking that maybe this isn't the demon Procrastinator, maybe it's just a harmless habit that I have fun with. I do have fun, and I do get a lot done when I'm left to my own devices, so hey ho - I'm gonna go ahead once again and make things perfect. Starting with .... um .... the music.

Alternate Title: Chiding Oneself For One's Idiosyncracies, Labelling Them Procrastination, And Then Taking Oneself Along An Elaborate Trail Of Rationalization, And Then Doing Whatever The Hell One Wants To Anyways

and writing about it.

What Shall We Do Today, What Shall We Do!

When I washed up on the shores of the home I currently live in, it was eight years ago, and I'd just had the most hellish month. I was on my own with the kids, aged 3 and 4, while the hubby worked in California (and spent most of what he earned). I'd given notice at the half-duplex I shared with a family who were on intimate terms with the police, the ambulance service, and social workers and 3 days later I came down with a brutal sinus infection while the kids coped with their chickenpox, and the car broke down, and I had to show the duplex while packing and looking after said children (and the children from next door most of the time), my mother-in-law was dying, oh it was quite a time - but at least I'd nailed down some shelter for us in the 3 days before the sinus thingy. We moved in here on September 1st, 1999, the day of Grace's funeral. My friend Elaine looked after the kids for that one night and I actually managed to be moved and here with Oliver the oldest cat by about 11pm. I drank scotch and weaved around my new digs toasting the spirit of my mother-in-law and wishing her peace on the journey.

It's time to move on; and it's a trip. I'm recovering from workplace bullying, marital separation, and a cold, AND I'm eight years older - but even so, part of me is more than willing to put aside the sorrow associated with goodbyes and go woohooo! we're movin' to Town! It's a baby-step, with the house not sold, etc., but it's still a step in the style of the younger me, and it feels alright. Wish me luck - as soon as we're settled, I will post photos of the New Place.

How Do I Turn This Thing On...

I'm sitting here on my one day "off" (HA!) balancing on the precipice of signing up for a BC Homes For Sale listing and plunging into the do-it-yerself mode of house selling. I'm SCARED! Mainly being scared of screwing up viewing appointments or being asked a question to which I don't know the answer - must be some old baggage there. And should I plunge in, or should I track down a contract form package first. Yikes. I just read a blurb about how we are more afraid of our own power than anything else - I think that's a load of crap - me, I'm afraid of FAILURE, no question about it. On the other hand, having the realtor contract expire has given me wings, this does have the feel of a New Beginning about it.

Wheeeee!

Itchy Feet

this time of year, I get itchy feet so bad it drives me berserk. Wanna go on a road trip, want to go on an Adventure, gah - I want to Speak To The Manager about this!
So, if you're wondering where I am,
I'm at home,
going berserk.