A lazy, rainy, Friday night...
(technically it's Saturday, but I'm still up, of course)

Even the animals are crashed out...

This my second attempt to write in this blog tonight. I had it nearly finished when I pressed the wrong button and suddenly everything on the screen vanished. Poof ! And Lorenzo thinks he's working hard....

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The destruction in the wake of Hurricane Sandy is so disheartening. While watching NBC last night I tried to imagine losing my home - losing everything we've worked for over the past twenty years - in a matter of minutes.  Everything gone; your house, your car, your personal belongings - photographs, documents, jewelry, art work, Mother's Day cards your children made for you, home movies, musical instruments... It must be absolutely soul-crushing. You see news footage of people stepping through the rubble, searching for anything that might be recognizable. Houses that were appraised at 1.6 million on the Jersey Shore are flattened overnight. Gone. We have some family friends who live in New Jersey and we haven't been able to contact them. I sure hope they are alright...

You know, they keep giving pretty names to these awful catastrophes. "Sandy"  "Katrina"   "Irene"... 
A hurricane should be called "Muttonhead" or "Hope Cruncher." Maybe "Hurricane Cheney" or some other fitting descriptor.

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Lorenzo left for Mayne Island last night. I packed him a DVD from the library on how to install hardwood floor...

He's confident that he already knows how, but it doesn't hurt to learn a few more things. I also packed him a sign to attach to our hydro meter:

Smart meters are going to be installed on Mayne Island, and when I heard that I snapped. I have one in my house that was installed against my wishes and I'm wondering if it's why I have headaches nearly every day. I didn't make the connection until Lorenzo suggested it. He's very bothered by this, as it feels like a violation of our rights. We bought this home, we pay huge property taxes, but we can't refuse something that we don't want, and that may impact our health.

Fourteen states in the US have created meter refusal programs. In California, they are allowing people to keep their analog meters after huge protests and intense opposition across the state. Individuals are allowed to pay $10 a month to have their meter read. I'd be more than willing to agree to that. But we have no such opt-out program here (at least not yet) so I called BC Hydro and explained to them that I have a brain tumor. They agreed to put a hold on installation...for now. Whether or not I actually have a brain tumor is really none of their business. I can't believe how little people know about this. Do some reading, educate yourself: http://www.citizensforsafetechnology.org/

Anyway, Lorenzo is pleased with the work the painters have done and is impressed by their attention to detail, although it seems to be going very slowly. But this is the very first time, in the twenty years that I've known Lorenzo, that we've hired painters we didn't have to fire. So this marks an historical moment in our lives. And one of the painters is in need of a washer and dryer. So we'll give him ours in exchange for labour, so this works out nicely. They have primed the main floor. It looks considerably brighter...

Here are some more views...

 

Lorenzo laid out the pebble tile, preparing to start on the hearth...

I really screwed up. The tile I picked for the legs of the wood stove to rest on look ridiculous. I should have gone with something much darker - it looks like four square eyes are staring out at you....or like four spots are missing.

The more I look at it, the more ticked off I feel. This is what happens when you're impatient. I went to Home Depot, there wasn't anything in a dark brown, and I thought, "good enough." No....it wasn't.

Maybe once it's grouted, it won't be as noticeable.
Who am I kidding - it looks wrong. It wouldn't bother me so much if we weren't installing a brand new lovely wood stove. Lorenzo hasn't said anything, but he tends to think all colours are kind of the same.

A first coat of paint has been applied to the stairwell. It needs a second coat and the ceiling still has to be done, but here's a pic...

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This evening, I announced to my kids that I'd be taking them out for dinner. They have been taking off in three different directions for weeks now and I wanted to spend some "quality time" with them: sit down together, eat a meal, talk about current events, etc.  It sounded like a nice idea.

But before we even left the parking lot, it started: My daughter said something about her sort-of-boyfriend and her older brother said, "I can't figure out why you like him...he's such an idiot." That's always a productive way to begin a pleasant conversation. I braced myself and inwardly groaned. My daughter's eyes narrowed and out came a stream of invective that was shocking, coming from someone so small and pretty. It went downhill from there. During the entire meal, the two of them glared at each over their cheeseburgers. It was such a joy-filled experience. After dinner, I made them stay in the car while I went into the grocery store with my other son. When I came back, I asked them if they'd patched things up. They had - happiness restored!

Shortly after my mum died in 2001, I was reading a book and came upon a line that I have never forgotten:
"A woman without a mother or a daughter is a person who walks the earth alone."

It resonated with me. I had lost my mum but I had a daughter, and that was very comforting. It isn't that I don't cherish my sons - I love them in a way that is almost romantic. They are strong, and taller than me now. They get me into headlocks and make me feel their muscles. They make me laugh, and they tell me I look pretty. Sons are lovely. But there is a relationship I have with my daughter that is just different and more personal. She's female, for starters. We think a certain way, we don't make a lot of noise, and we're content to eat a sandwich for dinner. She's a great companion.

But since becoming a teenager, I almost feel as though I've lost her. My happy-go-lucky, always pleasant girl, has become shockingly bad tempered. Her brothers refer to her as "Snap Show." And the thing is, she's aware of it. She apologized to me tonight for being so nasty lately. Maybe she's making up for all the years when her brothers were taking the lion's share of the attention.

In any case, I've been feeling like a person walking the earth alone, but perhaps it's just existential angst. Or maybe it derives from the sense that somehow your perception of the world is vastly different from that of most people you know. It can be unnerving and I rarely speak about the things that are worrying me. Like global warming...smart meters...genetically modified food...the acidification of our oceans. I keep it locked in my brain and then I fling it all onto my blog. My poor readers!


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I was walking my dog the other night in the rain and could feel water seeping into my boots. This marks winter number two with faulty-footwear, so I bit the bullet and bought myself a pair of MUCKERS! 

If I were a poet, I would write an ode to Clarks Shoes. They are so wonderful - even if you have finicky feet like me. You put them on, and you're bouncing on fluffy clouds. These boots are guaranteed water-proof and will be perfect for walking the dog in the trails when it's raining. And in Vancouver, when isn't it raining? I believe it has been raining steadily for three solid weeks.

Well, it's another fun-filled Friday night! I actually like nights like this, when it's raining outside. I light a bunch of candles, make chai tea, and find myself feeling very contented. We're so lucky to have a warm house and food to eat and beds to sleep in. And tonight I get the whole bed to myself, which is like winning the marital lottery. Lorenzo has taken to hugging his pillow in his sleep. Then he rolls toward me, and I've got this giant wall of pillow in my peripheral vision and I'm forced to the edge of the bed, clinging to the mattress like a drowning person. It is maddening.

Married people should have separate bedrooms - this nightly excursion to Frustration Land is ridiculous. Every woman I talk to quietly admits that her husband's snoring is making her crazy. Or the wife wants a freezing cold room and the husband wants the heat on. The discrepancies are endless. Sometimes I actually feel jealous that my kids get to retire to these lovely beds all by themselves. It's bad enough that we spend a third of our lives sleeping (what a waste of precious time) but to then have to toss and turn and feel like you're in purgatory, suffering from too much heat, too much closeness, snoring, etc. begins to feel like masochism. Or a form of terrorism. I adore my husband - but I'm a light sleeper, an insomniac, and I'm hot all the time. Virginia Woolf was right when she wrote "A Room of One's Own."

I believe it was Socrates who felt that sleeping needed to be abolished. In fact, many of the great thinkers and philosophers lamented over how much of their limited time on this earth was being squandered by this relentless need for oblivion. I hate sleeping. Every night, I put off going to bed. I read, I putter, I think about things... Even when my kids had me up at 5am, I would routinely go to bed at midnight or later. I love the night - the silence, the anonymity; I feel very alert at night and filled with ideas - I get excited by all the plans I have; all the great schemes waiting to be accomplished. I read and discover new things and I'm often seized by excitement for the coming day! 

Then I wake up the next morning and I want to stick my head in the oven. Mornings are tortuous, particularly when they follow a pattern of insomnia. I'll read until my eyes are crossing, turn the light off, fall asleep, and then.....I'm wide awake. It is certainly not a recipe for being a "morning person."  And being a "morning person" has nothing to do with being up. It has to do with how you feel. Lorenzo feels grrrreat in the morning. He's raring to go and full of energy.

My oldest son is like me; I hear him puttering around his room at one in the morning. He's reading or playing his guitar. The next day he's a zombie. Last June, his principal called to inform me that he'd been late for school seventy two times that year. What could I say? He suffers from insomnia, too. At night, he's talkative and creative. He and I have great conversations when everyone is asleep. The next morning he and I are silent while everyone else is functioning normally. I think you're born this way... The world is probably divided into two camps: morning people and night owls. Morning people are politicians, community organizers, and other busy-bee types. Night owls are musicians, writers, artists, and heroin addicts.

Last night, I read about xylitol, which is a natural occurring substance in our bodies.

It is a perfect sugar substitute with no after-taste, and it's safe for diabetics.
Here are some other health benefits:

*   Can reverse tooth decay and gum disease
*   Promotes regeneration of tooth enamel
*   Increases white blood cells
*   Lowers risk of ovarian cysts
*   Improves bone density
*   Increases skin thickness and collagen production
*   Low carb - good for weight loss
 
I bought a bag of it as I'm going to stop buying refined sugar. When I see my kids and Lorenzo scooping sugar into their coffee I cringe. It's technically a poison, so we really shouldn't be using it at all. 


Well, ciao for now!