Blog Jam

I took this shot on the ferry travelling from Fogo Island to Farewell. I love the colours and what appears to be quite a disorderly jumble on deck - an order not visible to me, obviously.

Our wee trip was amazing. Not least of which were three visits to the Fogo Island Inn where we mingled and conversed with guests from around the world. We had decided on treating ourselves to breakfast there (room prices average $1,000 a night). We had budgeted $50 for breakfast and were pleasantly surprised it was only $27.00 each. Surroundings defy description as does the interior. We were invited back for a "session" after dinner and met some very interesting San Franciscans and Australians and a writer for Architectural Digest.

It was a wonderful few days, we both needed the break from routine, and me from all the painting havoc around my house.

I'm back into the grindstone now. The painting is magnificent, I can't get over the "new look" in my house but everything else is in turmoil around the pristine walls, doors and ceilings.

On top of all that I have to prepare for two performances as seanchai - one on this Sunday, the other in August.

And guests, did I mention guests? Guests.

Surprises

A wise old shaman said to me one time:

"There's a surprise in every day, you just have to look for it."

I concur. But sometimes life itself gets in the way of spotting them when I'm cranky, irritable or have too much on my plate.

The longer I live the more I look for them though. This year I deliberately cast aside the distractions of my day and I just get out in the air and find new pathways, new byways, new trails. And surprises.

Today Ansa and I walked on an old road, long abandoned. If you look carefully, said a very old resident, you'll find the faintest trace of wagon wheels for this was a coach run back in the day. I didn't see the trace of wagon wheels but I did see what I thought were the faint imprint of long dead horse hooves. It was only afterwards I thought: moose prints, of course. It's a haunted old road alright. Daughter had explored it last year and had the eerie sensation of being watched and hurried on out. High trees on each side, that wonderful indescribable smell of forest, and creaking old tree trunks chattering along beside me into the almost tangible silence. I must bring the camera there to try and capture the other- worldliness of it.

Then I went to my mailbox and inside was a large package from a beloved Toronto friend. I literally gasped when I saw what was inside. I had told her recently of my upcoming debut as a seanchai and she had thought to send me a debut outfit. I was staggered both at its beauty and its me-ness. She sure knows me and my style. A black top and skirt with multi-coloured lace ribbons dancing all over it, even from the hem and sleeves. A French designer label. Something I could never, ever afford or even venture into the shops that would carry such luxury.

And for the first time in years I thought: you know what would look good with this? Sparkling high heels. Maybe pink, maybe red. High heels. Sheer stockings. You need to honour these gorgeous clothes.

And there will be pictures. Promise.

I just love surprises but my favourite of all is when I surprise myself.

Someday

You get to an age when the somedays are all behind you. Do it now or not at all is my new mantra.

My recent (well the last few years') desire is to be a Seanchaí. One of those old Irish story tellers at events. You know, engaging with the audience, taking on a role or two within the context of the old story. Using no notes. Au naturel, unlike my previous foray into a one woman performance thingie.

My first gig as a Seanchaí is in a month's time at a dinner theatre. I will be telling a story from my life, well my aunt's life, previously featured in Time Goes By a while back. The venue is an old convent converted to an inn so I thought it would be conducive to a story about my aunt's nunnish aspirations.

I've been commissioned to write another play, another musical drama, and that is completely over the top exciting. Auditions will take place soon and the first table reading will be at the end of May. I am hoping for it to be an inter-generational theme, depending on cast.

I was at a concert complete with afternoon tea on Saturday. It was a wonderful event, great music and the tea was deluxe, lashings of beautiful food, flowers and china. A few of my friends are in the choral group. They perform mainly jazz interspersed with folk songs from the sixties and seventies, along with Andrews Sisters' numbers. One came up to me during the intermission and put her head on my shoulder, nearly in tears.

"Oh, WWW," she said sadly,"Can you believe it? My life is nearly over! I'm getting so old. I'll be fifty next week!"

Somedays, I wanted to say as I comforted her. You still have somedays!

But she wouldn't have understood.