Life in Aylmer Quebec

I had things to say tonight. Nothing important, nothing mind-blowing. But things that were on my mind.

Then I got lost on the ‘intraweb’, as Todd and I call it. And I forgot everything I had wanted to say after reading about my literary love, Kurt Vonnegut, on Wikipedia, and
some of the things he apparently said. The only that is mine in the following bit, is the Italic pointing-it-out-to-you-fuck-the-man-was-right.

“With his columns for In These Times, he began an attack on the Bush administration and the Iraq war. “By saying that our leaders are power-drunk chimpanzees, am I in danger of wrecking the morale of our soldiers fighting and dying in the Middle East?” he wrote. “Their morale, like so many bodies, is already shot to pieces. They are being treated, as I never was, like toys a rich kid got for Christmas.” In These Times quoted him as saying “The only difference between Hitler and Bush is that Hitler was elected.”[40][41] In a 2003 interview Vonnegut said, “I myself feel that our country, for whose Constitution I fought in a just war, might as well have been invaded by Martians and body snatchers. Sometimes I wish it had been. What has happened, though, is that it has been taken over by means of the sleaziest, low-comedy, Keystone Cops-style coup d’etat imaginable. And those now in charge of the federal government are upper-crust C-students who know no history or geography, plus not-so-closeted white supremacists, aka ‘Christians,’ and plus, most frighteningly, psychopathic personalities,or ‘PPs.’”[42] When asked how he was doing at the start of a 2003 interview, he replied: “I’m mad about being old and I’m mad about being American. Apart from that, OK.”[43]“

I think I need you again, Vonnegut. (could never call you Kurt, I am sorry. Seemed disrespectful for some reason.) You are always Vonnegut to me. I remember you when I was seventeen, barely a woman, barely able to hold my own with guys my age, not having a clue as to who or what I was or should be, and finding you through a gentle soul who was almost as lost as I was. And then I remember finding you on my father’s staircase, which was also his book shelf. What a revelation that was. My father loved you as well! So I stole his books, and still have them to this day. And we talked about you, a little bit. As much as my father and talked about books, and such, which was not much, and now I wish it had been more. I would have love to have known what he thought about things you had to say, although I am pretty sure he would have agreed with you. After all, if he kept you, then he must of  thought you were worth listening to. My dad was a pretty smart man.

Actually, U2 got it wrong for this house, this year. I have three girls giggling away in a bedroom (sleepover time), a Great Dane snoring away by my feet, a cat snuggled on my lap, purring and kneading away, and another cat close by who snores as loud as the dog. Also a husband who is playing something on the Nintendo/Playstation/Whateverthehellwehave thingy. So, no, it is not quiet. Although, a world in white is underway. And nothing changes on New Year’s day.

We got through Christmas. It was hard. I missed my Dad a lot.  My Mom and M-I-L came, but it was not the same. My mom would not stop doing laundry, or dishes, or just doing something. I guess she couldn’t. She said it helped her to keep busy, but I felt guilty that she was doing so much. And I felt guilty cause I couldn’t make her any less sad. I wish there was something I could do for her, cause as much as I love and miss him, I know she feels it a hundred times worse. And it makes me so sad to see her so sad.

It just seemed so wrong, somehow, that we were still shopping and planning dinner,  putting up a Christmas tree, listening to music and shoveling snow, walking the dog and wrapping presents, watching movies and sometimes even laughing, making plans for the day and living.  But I guess that’s what you do. You just go on, you live your life, and you try  maybe to be a little bit of a better wife/mother/daugther/sister/friend. Cause life is fragile, and it doesn’t last forever, and you want the people you love to know that you really loved them as hard and as good as you could. That you did your best, to the best of your abilities, and to forgive you for your failings, no matter how big or small.  I think that’s all that you can hope for. And maybe that’s not too shabby.

As RedGreen used to say: Remember, I’m pulling for you. We’re all in this together.

We are, Dad. We are.

Don’t really care where I start this post…so I’ll just ramble.

Four weeks ago today, my father died. I still don’t even know if I believe that it is true.  How can someone exist one day, and be gone the next, just like that? Some times I truly wish I had some kind of religious faith. That I could even remotely believe in some kind of deity.  I envy people who are so sure of their god, and their heaven. It must give them so much comfort.

Bailey and I  left the security and comfort of TicToc way back in the beginning of fall. The owner wanted to retire, and downsize the barn, so we didn’t have much choice. I needed another job, and Bailey needed a new barn. After a brief stint at another place, we ended up at the wonderful Ferme St. Rose, in Val-des-Monts, where I now work, and Bailey gets as much turnout as I want him to. There is very little drama, very little bitchiness, and it is incredibly peaceful. I actually love going to work, love working for my fabulous boss, and have so much less stress in my life now. It’s unbelievable how different it is, and how different it feels!

Last weekend, we adopted a wonderful, four month old Great Dane puppy, who we Emma and Meghan named Madison. She is an absolute sweetheart, comes to work with me everyday, and is the goofiest biggest puppy ever. I think we are all in love. Sasha, our wonder dog, had to be put down this fall. She is still saddly missed.

My garden was pretty much a disaster again this summer. For someone who studied horticulture, I always seem to come up with a horrible case of I-don’t-really-give-a-shit-itis every summer. Pretty pathetic on my part. Oh, well.

We went to Wonderland at some point this summer, my best friend Derek got married in Toronto, we did Easter and bunnies, Canada Day, trips to the Byward Market and Beaver Tails, summer vacation and summer camp, first day back at school,  Thanksgiving and Hallowe’en, and everything else that fell in between.

And now here we are, the middle of December. Not sure how we got here, not sure that I want to be here, but really, I guess I have no choice. The girls are excited for Christmas. My mom and my m-i-l are coming. Will be a quieter, sadder, downplayed version. There is no one to accompany our carols on the guitar this year. And there it is. The punch in the gut that sneaks up on you and makes your insides ache.

There is no song in my title today. There is no laughter in my soul. It would appear that I need you again, the invisible you, my phantom sister to whom I write. I need to be selfish, and I need to howl my heart out. So many things have changed since my last visit, but tonight, the only thing I can think about is the one who is no longer here. There is no possible facebook status update for that one. In fact, I want to tell it to go fuck itself.

Today, I lost my father.

A  man who embodied life, who crowned me ‘Princess Two Feathers’, who gave me music on a silver plate, who taught me how to start a fire and fire a gun and make instant coffee, a man that I loved more deeply than I knew, is gone. A man who believed in buddhism, taoism, christianity, judaism, islaam, a man who was a pantheist agnostic christian atheist muslim buddhist jew. A man who believed in everything and everyone; who loved life and his wife deeply; a man who entrusted his soul to his guitars and his music; a man who taught so many to hear music and not just play it; a man that I only realize,  know that he is gone, had so many things that he wanted to tell me, I just had to ask! I have been robbed and cheated of his presence for the rest of my life.

And dog fucking damnit, it’s not fair.

I want to throw myself on the floor, kicking and screaming. I want to smoke my lungs out. I want to drink my head off. I want to punch somebody so hard they are knocked unconscious. I want to drive my car a million miles an hour. And then I want to sleep. And cry. And blow my nose. And then the cycle starts all over again.

I want my dad.

There is this big empty hole in the middle of my chest, where he obviously used to be, cause as soon as he died, it popped up. I can’t think of any other explanation.

I am really hoping that tomorrow I will wake up, and this will all have been a bad dream.

But that’s just wishful thinking. I held someone’s hand today, as he died. I tried so hard to be strong, as he died. I cried so much, as he died. And then the calmness overcame. And I held his hand some more, and stroked his arm, and kissed his forehead, in the useless hope that he might come back. I think he was long gone. And I’m pretty sure this is not a dream.

I want my daddy back.

Don’t know where the years have gone, but gone they have. Yesterday was my big 40. Still can’t quite believe it. Just the other day, my girls were babies. Now Emma is turning ten this spring, and Meg’s eight.  The family went to North Bay for Easter, to stay with Todd’s mum, and my parents drove up to meet us there. We had a really nice and relaxing weekend, just hanging out. Easter Sunday coincided with my birthday, so we had a fabulous Turkey dinner with all the trimmings. I love good food. And good people.

I always find the drive to the Bay so pretty, no matter what time of year. We go up the 148 through the Pontiac, passing farm after farm, and cut through Portage du Fort across to Renfrew.

That is the song that just popped into my head, as I was sitting on my couch, trying to organize my thoughts for this post. No idea why, but it did. I know there was something in there earlier (my head, that is) but it’s gone now and Stevie Wonder sang instead. Go figure. Maybe that’s how I feel about this blog. Every once in a while, I have to pop in and say boo, but can’t/won’t/don’t do it as often as I used to. Other things seem to take up so much of my time and energy these days. Or maybe I’m just running out of steam, and I’m slowly grinding to a halt. Not sure.

So for tonight, I’m going to steal from Letterman, and just do a top ten.

1. After about 2o minutes, finally got through the ridiculous City of Gatineau’s phone sign up system, and managed to get both my girls signed up for swimming lessons this spring.

2. Desperately need help decluttering, organinzing, packing shit for storage, and just general house stuff so we can put the damn house on the market. (Any volunteers?)

3. Meg loves her flute and her lessons. Score!! (pun intended)

4. My house with the barn is back on the market, and I really want it. (see # 2)

5. I think I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Or complete paralysis of the ass syndrome. I spend a ridiculous amount of time not doing things I should be doing at home.

6. My Chronic Fatigue seems to go away when I am at the barn. Perhaps it is an air quality issue inside my home? Yeah, that’s it. I’m going with that one. Explains the still unpainted bathroom, and half painted hallway.

7. I am madly in love. Wait for it. This is the best part. I am madly in love with my husband. Not just love or whatever. But madly. We’ve had our issues and shit over the years, even times when we’ve come close to splitting up. But this great guy (most of the time) throughout everything, has always, always had my back. I’d be so lost without him.

8. I did not win the lottery this Saturday. Damn it!!!

9. Did I mention that my pony dumped me on Friday? Yep. I christened the remaining snow after a glorious bucking/rearing episode in the field behind the barn. But I am no longer a virgin. I have fallen. No longer terrified of getting bucked off, now I can get on to the serious business of training this damn horse. (course I still love him too!)

10. In a month, I will be turning 40. How the hell did that happen? Last time I checked, I still felt about 24.  Or so. Maybe 29 at the most. Time is starting to go even faster, now that I’m starting to run out of it. Please slow down and let me linger a little longer.

It’s March. Already. I have been completely remiss. I’m not sure where the rest of January went, and February seems to have slunk off into a black hole or something. So many things have happened, I’m not even sure I can remember them all. Good things, bad things, funny things, and sad things. Or basically, life has continued on its merry little way with total disregard for everyone and everything in its path. C’est la vie.

My sister had a beautiful baby boy on December 10th.  Did I ever mention that? She sends me pictures and we talk on Skype occasionally so I get a chance to see him live.  So yes, I know for a fact that he is beautiful. In fact, I may have to ask her to stop sending pictures, because the damn cuteness and squishability of this kid makes my ovaries hurt.  People keep asking me if it makes me want another baby, and of course I always say no.  And of course I am lying. Logically, babies are done for me. I’ve moved on to the next stage. But emotionally, damn, I want to hold a baby of my own and sniff the top of her head.

My Meggie turned eight in January. Flute lessons are on the horizon for her. Or to be more specific, on Thursday. A neighbor across the street is a flautist and also teaches, so that works out wonderfully. For some reason, this is Meg’s instrument of choice. Who am I to force her to play something she doesn’t want to? (a hypocrite, that’s who. I force Emma to play the guitar against her will every day, and she is coming along beautifully!!) But I digress.

Emma is getting taller every time I turn around.  And growing up too fast. She loves Calvin and Hobbes. I love that she does. It means she inherited a bit of her sense of humor from both her parents, and that she has a damn good one, albeit a bit warped.  She is a lovely girl in every way. A pretty good guitarist too.

Barn life has been up and down. Bailey is wonderful, as always.  We’ve been out hacking a lot, we’ve even graduated to the road. He’s been taking it all like a trooper.  We’ve riding down to the Standardbred race barn, where he got to freak out a bit over other horses, but overall, he was good. In the arena, our canter is improving, and he is slowly learning to go straight, instead of his tendency to lean (extremely) to the right.  It’s a bit fustrating, but we’re getting there.  He is right sided. So be it.

We (the royal we) had to put down a wonderful old school horse, Joshua. He had chronic lameness issues, developed an abscess that never really healed, and Karen decided that he had tried long enough. He was a wonderful old soul, a dirty old man, a dressage master, a funny prankster and I miss him.

We lost another horse rather tragically. Kizmet had been out in the paddock, apparently playing with his buddies, when one of the girls went to bring horses in for lunch. Somehow, whether by a kick or some fluke misstep, he had broken his front right leg. He was euthed. His owner had just previously suffered a broken pelvis from falling off of him, and due to her injuries and slow healing, was told she should never ride again. Kizmet only came to the barn in the fall. She had finally been living her childhood dream of riding and owning a horse when this all happened.  Alanis, I think this might be the ironic that you were looking for.

So that is the short update for tonight. It’s late and I must away to bed. I’ll try to be better in the future about posting more often, but no promises.

This is something that commonly gets said out at the barn.  Whether you’ve just heard that someone’s horse lost a shoe, or someone’s getting a divorce.  It is the common catch all phrase that covers every possibly conceivable response required. (did that make sense?)  It pretty much stands alone, requiring no real follow up remarks.  Just nod, look sympathetic, and you don’t need to have an opinion on whatever it is you are supposed to be commenting on.   Try it.  So-and-so said this-and-that about this person.  Oh, dear.  You have commented, without really committing.  Works most of the time.

Now, on a totally unrelated subject, it would appear that I had totally forgotten Christmas, New Year’s, and since gotten lost in a time warp for more than a month.  Oh, dear.  See?  It works.

Over Christmas, we discussed our moving options.  We had seriously decided to take another look at a place close to the barn.  It had a small barn, fairly large house with potential, not very much land  but enough that I could have my horse(s to be) at home.  And chickens.  And it was still close enough to town that the girls would be able to go to the same school.  I could bike to the barn.  And ride Bailey over to school in the arena (although considering how some people drive, and how some people are total asshats who think it’s funny to roar past a horse on the side of the road blaring their horn, it might be slightly dangerous).  And then, two days later, I checked the MLS listings, and the house was no longer listed.  Oh, dear.

Our other potential option is still for sale.It’s a smallish house.  But liveable (ie. two bathrooms).   It’s just so far out of town and needs so much work.  But it has land.  Oh Lordy, does it have land.  And that was what we talked about.  It might be too much for us.  The kids would be country bumpkins.  It would be an hour commute each way for Todd, every day of the week.  A half hour commute for me.  Is there any way to make living ‘country’ financially feasible?  But it has land.  Veggie growing land.  Horse keeping land (long as the fences get mended).  It has a barn (needs work).  It has a chicken house (wouldn’t call it a coup).  It has a kennel. (Don’t want to raise un-needed dogs). Potential for a pottery studio, if dh would ever do it.  It has potential, period.  The whole place.  That would be a great name for the place. Potential Farm.

Oh dear.

1.  Clean my saddles and boots.

2.  Sort, fold and put away all the laundry.

3.  Bake Orange/Blackberry/Raspberry muffins.

4.  Email Auntie coolest Mayla.

5.  Teach Emma Jingle Bells on the guitar.

6.  Empty dishwasher.

7.  Cook chicken legs that have lived in my freezer for way too long.  And hope they would be okay at least for chicken salad.

8.  Find Ikea bed comforter cover.

9.  Find alternate present for Meghan.   She wants some Dairy Queen Blizzard making toy.

10.  Pack girls’ school lunches, thereby saving a bit of time tomorrow morning, in the hopes of not being late, again, as we are every single frackin’ day.

Things I actually did accomplish…

1.  Talked to my big-bellied, sweet little sister, who looked pretty glowy.  (Yes, glowy is a word, Mr. Spellchecky or whoever you are.  It means ‘to glow’.)  And believe you me, my baby sister can glow with the best of them.  Something to do with the incubation of her first born who is now a tad late in the welcome to the world celebration.  But you know, the baby is related after all.  I am pretty sure all this lateness stuff is genetic.  Point being, my sister looked beautiful.

2.  Fed my children supper.  And husband.  And cats and dog.  Fish ain’t my job.

3.  Pulled the clean sheets out of the cupboard in order to change the ones on my bed.  (Couldn’t actually change the sheets, cause there were three cats snoozing on said bed at the time.  There’s always tomorrow.  Besides, clean sheets are highly over-rated.)

4.  Bathed both my children.

5.  Checked said children’s hair for nits.  Apparently, there is lice running through the schools again.  Don’t they just go away by themselves?  Or can they not be trained ala circus fleas?

6.  Emailed my mom.

7.  Washed and dried the breeches I want to wear in my lesson tomorrow.  My full seat breeches which allow me to keep my butt velcroed to my saddle.  WTF Mr. Spellchecky, velcroed is totally a verb.

8.  Stayed up way past my bed time, as per usual, thereby ensuring I will get a maximum of 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep.  The cats start waking me up anywhere from 5 am to 6:30 am, which when you need to bounce out of bed at 7 and run, really, really, sucks.

9.  Plugged in my cell phone to recharge.

10.  Wrote this ridiculous blog post.