Saturday, May 5, 2012

Self-edit and thoughts on a Saturday

I'll admit I perform this damaging writerly 'duty' far too often. Or I don't. Whatever the case, I'm really working on it.
Also, my own proper-English editing. I have miles of books about this type of thing, and I think it's time I move them front and centre, crowd them round my desk, have them hover, like the thesaurus and the dictionary (yes, I know about spell-check and all that but sometimes it's not enough).

It's Saturday night. I've run today, I went for a tan (sue me), walked about, did my niece's hair, took her to ballet, read the Toronto Star (my dad would freak) page-by-page-by-page in the community centre where her ballet class is, the backdrop of this my muted ipod, screaming children, and doting parents. Doting, but not disciplining. It's a theme lately isn't it?  But, really, today, the whole world bothered me. I mean, I loved the bright sun, I loved my run (oh foot, please be good. I know you're hurt), I loved helping my sister.
But I hated the traffic. How warm I felt, how many cars on the road, my late bedtime, my sluggish morning.
But I got it all done. I sent in my Letters for our Daughters and got a positive response.

I made it to church. Even though, while I was there, I completely zoned out, in a meditative fashion (very unlike me) and had to rely on the other people around me for the cues of standing up, sitting down, kneeling. I guess it was good. I lost myself for a good forty minutes thinking about May, last May, the May before that--how much peace I've been able to garner this May around. How horrible it can be when you are in strife while gorgeous weather swirls around. How my running the last two years fed on strife.  How this year, I pray, I will give it happiness to feed on.  I lit some candles, I stared at the flickering light, looked at my own reflection in the black lacquer of the piano at the front of the church, reminding me so much of my childhood Saturday nights. Funny that the two candles I lit were for the piano players in my life.

I bought a huge bag of vegetables at the market (inspired by, I'm sure, the vegan ultra-runner I read about in Runner's World).  I did my banking, got Starbucks, and more laundry is on the go. Cleaning. Well, that will have to happen tomorrow. I didn't do my hair today. Or put any make-up on. I just didn't want to. There's some correspondence I would like to get out tonight, some dishes and leftovers that need to be put away -- I just roasted chicken pieces, made a portabello/saffron/roasted tomato risotto. Spinach on the side.
And I'm in tonight. Super-moon awaiting. Perhaps my tarot cards need to see this.

Oh, and bonus--Porter extended their sale on summer flights and I found (and booked!) an ever better deal than the one I was cruising for this week. I booked the times I wanted (one day after Mike's birthday, but better than nothing--his birthday is on the 5th of July--I will arrive, belated, on the 6th, late at night). I stay until Monday night (no one likes these evening flights--so--great price. GREAT price.). Happy. Called Mike. He was happy too. Two months to seeing Mike seems do-able. After five months apart last summer, these two sojourns, one last weekend, one July 6th, are like delectable gravy. I am so thankful.

Back to church.
All the same faces. Older faces. Under-housed men doing the rounds with the collection basket (two collections today, the second to help keep this beautiful church, this basilica in good repair. I'm a designer. I know what the upkeep can cost to keep a building this unique, this very special brand of vintage, in good repair). I walk home in the lovely sunshine, I buy my vegetables.
I'm in for the night, the crazies of the pre-full-moon out in full force, my desire to be solitary and comfortable and silent being fulfilled. Chardonnay is in my present, book to read in my (near) future.
That's really all I have to talk about at this point.
Well, that, and the thoughts I've had today about this blog. About how I wanted it to springboard a memoir for me. And now, finally, as I reach that last thirty-something birthday, I think I finally know what I want to do.

Stay tuned. (and look for the super-moon!)

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