“Isolation offered its own form of companionship: the reliable silence of her rooms, the steadfast tranquility of the evenings. The promise that she would find things where she put them, that there would be no interruption, no surprise. It greeted her at the end of each day and lay still with her at night.”
—From “The Lowland” by Jhumpa Lahiri
Recently, I’ve only wanted to stay home with my cat. Maybe I really am becoming a cat lady.
I’m so sick of the idiots (and worse) in this world. There is so much immaturity and lack of care or concern for other people. Animals are where it’s at.
All I wanted was an enjoyable visit with family, but I was the one who didn’t choose to leave my phone at home that day, the day of rallies and violence in Charlottesville, Virginia.
Ten Things of Thankful
I’m thankful that my brother’s band got back together, to practice for a gig, by playing in my basement once more.
It was all the songs I love, those I became so familiar with after months of hearing them in my basement.
Secrets Revealed
This is a photo of their set list from the show the other night. My brother wrote it out in braille. They thought their fans might like to see. My brother didn’t really need it. He had the list memorized already.
I’m thankful to join in with a friend in a worthy cause.
He wants to start a branch of the National Federation of the Blind/Canadian Federation of the Blind in Ontario. The one currently going is out west only.
The biggest organization for the blind in Canada is still the CNIB (Canadian National Institute of the Blind) and yet it isn’t enough. It isn’t fulfilling all the needs, according to us, the ones who are in need of the service.
This sounds like a lot of work, but my friend sounds up for the job and I want to do what I can.
I feel so helpless with so much going on. I need to be able to do something good.
I’m thankful for peaches and ice cream for my nephew’s birthday.
I may have had both a small sundae and then a small cone.
Fresh peaches are the best part of August. When you mix that with my favourite vanilla soft serve, I am in paradise.
For the birthday, we did things backwards: ice cream first and then dinner. Dinner was pizza anyway.
My nephew is still grasping the concept of what a birthday is. He isn’t overly interested in why people sing and light candles, depending on the day. You say Happy Birthday to him and he says it back to you, like it’s a greeting. He makes me smile with his total innocence. I need more of that to fight the overwhelming stress and gloom that often threatens to bring me down.
I’m thankful for a mild night out on a patio, listening to some relaxing music, until the rain came.
A friend of ours was playing at a local restaurant. We got through ordering drinks and appetizers before the rain started up.
Until that point, I was enjoying the guitars, both with his singing and as instrumentals.
I’m thankful for all the amazing art my niece made at art camp.
She is artistic, like her father. She is the little girl who loves to create things. She reminds me of myself at that age.
She is a natural at making things.
They made letters for their first names out of crystals and jewels. She showed me an ocean in a jar, made with water and oil and food colouring. She made a polar bear mask. She tie dyed a pillow and made another pillow, so soft and with many knots around the edges instead of sewing.
At this camp there was something called the splatter paint room. Nothing but bright colours, paint splattered all over the floor and walls. You can go wild, make as much of a splatter mess of colour as you want, and it’s all okay.
I thought, since I am so bad at interior decorating for my own house, even though I can no longer see colours: why not make myself a splatter paint house?
Her love and pride for the things she made, as she was showing us, made me miss colour, art, and made me so happy for her and so proud to be her aunt.
I am thankful for the bottle of water my newly four-year-old nephew gave me when I said I was looking for something to drink.
He just opened the fridge and got it for me.
He is the master of his fridge and his home at this age and it is so sweet to witness.
I am thankful for what a thoughtful little sweetheart he is.
He told us, the moment we arrived, that he wanted to get his mother some flowers. He had previously told his dad that he was “thinking” about getting her some flowers.
He’s been thinking about this. It constantly amazes me, the kind of kids they are, and the sorts of things they think about, before deciding to share with the grownups in their lives.
I am thankful for the Max Mix.
My brother is a music fan and he has a lot of it himself. When he noticed my nephew had a love of music, he made him a mix of all the songs my nephew seemed to love.
He remembers lyrics and loves to sing in the car. He is so cool, cooler than me anyway.
I am thankful for a beautiful day to sit outside for a five-year-old’s birthday party.
People gathered, kids running and playing, while I sat and had a cool drink.
They have a big yard, the yard we had as children, and so much room to run and play games.
It wasn’t too hot. It wasn’t humid. The air was perfectly summery and pleasant.
I’m thankful for his amazing little mind and imagination.
My nephews are both so smart. He knew people were coming and he worked on a show to perform for us, all week long. He prepared a screen with a border, like a TV, but when we were all outside, he set it up like a play or puppet show, using chairs as the stage.
It was a form of fan fiction with his favourites: Littlefoot (from Land Before Time), a T Rex, and Curious George.
It turned out to be this whole epic adventure story and it all came from him.
Desired Consolation – Bjork
Basically, it was the kids that kept me sane this week. Then I think of Bjork’s question in the song: How am I going to make things right?
I wonder if I can. What that will look like, I do not know, but I have to try something.
The woman who was mowed down was nearly my age. What made her come out, to such a place, on that day?
“If you’re not outraged you’re not paying attention.”
—Heather Heyer
RIP Heather
Her Headache 