Hollywood vs Real Life

I've wanted to post about this topic for a while. Being weaned on movies (pictures) in my life, the black and white of character depiction by Hollywood was a belief I held for a long time. Bad guy/woman = no redeeming features. Good guy/woman = no dark side.

I remember seeing a play. The Steward of Christendom (in the Abbey in Dublin) that showed a bad guy ( a male nurse) mistreating an elderly patient in a psychiatric home. In the second act it showed the bad guy being superbly kind. No one, truly, is all bad or all good, in spite of Hollywood. That play has stuck with me over the years.

I took a workshop with an older woman in Toronto a few years ago. It was about exploring all of ourselves, loving the inner, exploring our own darkness. At one point she said: "There's a Paul Bernardo within all of us." It gave me a chill. Us participants looked around at each other and then slowly nodded. Of course there is. Most of us can squelch those murderous thoughts, but a very few act them out.

Which is all in the way of saying I had a problem with my unsold salt box box. There was a bad storm this past Sunday and a large branch broke off a tree and caught a wire which in turn was fastened to a corner of my house. The wire came down, taking with it a part of my roof.

I called the power company who were on it right away. They called me when they were on site to tell me it was a telephone wire that had downed. I called the telephone company who, fortunately, came the following day and disconnected the wire. I texted a good friend to request that he check out my property to ensure there were no further hazards. *Crickets*. That surprised me.

So nothing for it but to travel out to my old house to inspect things myself. There are other friends out there but for reasons I won't get into I didn't like to ask.

So I'm out back, loading my regular tires into the garage to await the spring, when who should appear on my meadow but Cathedral Man. all chatty and smiley.

My first reaction was to go sour and vinegary but then I thought, shyte, no. What a waste of anger and frustration. He asked me why the house wasn't selling and I mentioned the Cathedral. He looked genuinely surprised. Well. I then mentioned the wire and the corner of the roof. "We noticed that had come down," he said. Well. I responded I was upset about it.

"Let me go get a ladder and fix that all up for you, right as rain," he said. And he did.

And I thanked him. And thanked him again. And he said it was nothing.

See what I mean?

Abundance

'Tis easy indeed to focus on the challenges, the negativity, the scarcity.

Today, I focus on the positive, the intangibles and tangibles.

I find it helpful to take a look at the life I'm living from the perspective of a stranger looking in.

I had a giggle in the hall yesterday with a woman who admired the fact I was driving still. She only drives in the summer. I said rain was a challenge in the short days when night descended so rapidly. She agreed. I asked where she was off to. She said she was a champion dart player and was off to claim a prize and free dinner. Dressed to the nines she was. She said: I think I'll beat their darty asses for another 10 years. She volunteered she was 84. I loved her spirit.

I'm still one of the "babies" in this building which makes me smile.

I found this delicious white fur coat (fake fur) at the SPCA thrift shop a couple of weeks ago. It had the tags still on it at $225 and I got it for $20. It was one of those mad purchases (internal dialogue: white? white? Are you insane?) but every time I wear it - for a fancy dinner with a Toronto friend, to a marvelous potluck dinner on Sunday, to my book club luncheon on Monday, I feel like a movie star. And the reactions? Everyone comments, even strangers. (OMG, the coat, that coat!). Best $20 I spent in a long time.

Daughter booked us dinner on Xmas day in one of the fancy hotels here. We had a bit of a hunt as Christmas is a sacrament in this province (aggressive Merry Christmas pronouncements, Jesus' birthday donchaknow, etc., no understanding of other faiths celebrating during the same timeframe, and oh horror, you're a pagan/atheist, Satan stay away from me, etc. Along with the most outrageous consumption of material crap I've ever witnessed and the most deadly and ugly driving to get at it.

So to find this civilized hotel was amazing. We would do this in Toronto on Christmas Day and often take a movie in too (exnay on a movie here, unfortunately). Delighted we are.

A dear friend in New York sent me an outrageously flamboyant poinsettia. Her story of how she managed to order it and have it delivered to me is a long blog post unto itself. And to top this off, in the mail today was the most beautiful hand designed silk scarf from her. I am so touched.

Grandgirl called me from Cambodia where she is stationed for a while and we chatted for 2 hours. I feel so very blessed with her in my life. She is one fascinating young woman and we have a wealth of commonality in our interests.

So conversely, on the downside, the last windstorm took down a large tree branch at my unsold outport saltbox house which snagged a wire which pulled down a corner of my roof and left a mess across the meadow. The power company is getting there today. I was so upset yesterday when I was there and felt quite powerless. Even more upset when I realized that a few were working on the Cathedral next door and hadn't bothered to report it themselves or to me. The inhumanity of these prominent churchy people who want my house for a song, continues to astonish me. Long may I be surprised as to be cynical and hating doesn't serve me well.

I am working on submitting a play to the Women's Work Festival. I'd written this play a while ago but was unable to get it produced in the outports. Maybe I'll have more luck in St. John's, the Big Small Smoke.

I must say I love living here in St. John's.

It's a rebirth of the finest kind.

Toilet Plunger

One of my prints for sale at the Craft Fair.


Eye catching heading, right?

You don't pack an old used one, right? I mean a toilet plunger is married to your toilet for life, until breakage or punctures doth part them.

And somehow you don't think of buying one before a problem strikes in any new dwelling either.

Odd that we don't think of ever knocking on anyone's door either asking to borrow a toilet plunger? I mean it's so personal, isn't it? It would be like breaking up the marriage of it and its toilet.

So the city. 24 hour shops. I'd forgotten. I can go out and get a toilet plunger at any time ($1.59).

So now my toilet and plunger are married. Tell death part them.
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Memory Lapses

Do you get weird ones?

I do.

I did my laundry early the other day and I like to sort it into drawers and shelves right away. So it's night and I knew I had washed 3 pairs of PJs and do you think I could find them? No. I checked everywhere, even trotting down the hall to the laundry room (gorgeous spot by the way with a reading nook and desk in a wee sun room off the laundry room). No sight nor sound. Checked every drawer, every shelf, every closet. No PJs. I haven't been utterly baffled in a long time, and a little frightened too. What was wrong with me? The following day I'm tossing some dirty tea towels into my laundry hamper and lo and behold, I'd gently placed the neatly folded nightwear into the dirty laundry bin. No recollection. And still don't. Maybe I should be scared?

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Adaptation

I found one of those collapsible luggage carts in a Goodwill style store. $4.99. Strong and sturdy. With my challenges in walking and carrying I've found this little unit amazing for hauling stuff around. We don't have a garbage chute and the outside garbage bins placed strategically at various points around the building is still an Everest to me. But this wee cart? It's a workhorse with the bungee cord. I've hauled out an old light knapsack for small grocery trips. And I have a well used Kipling smaller knapsack for every day use. It broke my heart to rid myself of some lovely Roots hand gear but I couldn't handle the weight of any of them so in to the Goodwill bag the went for donation. Someone will be thrilled.

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House update

I'm meeting with my agent tomorrow to drop the price again. Depressing, I know, but needs must. Someone's going to get a great bargain.
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Downsizing 101

You know, all the books you read, the plans you draw up, the discard piles, the maybe piles, the WTF piles, the definitely moving with me piles? Garbage. At least for this downsizer.

To give you an idea: 5 bedroom house (granted, small wee rooms), 3 very large halls (I know, ironic), kitchen, dining room, family room, office, bathroom and oh yes, the Tigeen, garage, barn and shed. All to be condensed down to a 1 bedroom apartment with its own largish locker en suite.

First of all I should mention I am ecstatic that I moved. It took me approximately 2 minutes to adjust to city living. The location helps, overlooking lake and ocean and Signal Hill in the distance, plonked right in the middle of my living room window. Cars drive up here at night and park to drink in the night lights.

So that went well.

But stuff.

I took my largish sofa but left the over sized chair that went with it. I took my hand-painted decorative but functional small round table and its adorable chair from the craft room. Mistake.

I took my small antique lady's desk with needlepoint chair - desk fine but hello chair, what was I thinking?

What shocks me is that I carefully measured a space where one of the kitchen arches opens to the living room and realize my custom-made 90" long dining room table from the house will fit lengthwise across the space providing multiple uses: a craft table, design table, a sitting baking table and an eating, reading table and entertain a few in a pinch. Daughter rolls her eyes at this. But I know in my bones it will work. For me. I like to spread my wools and graph paper and my finished creations and my writing projects all about me.

My worries remain and ebb and flow. The house remains unsold, the Cathedral looms over it, unfinished, with garbage tossed all around it. The For Sale sign keeps being kicked and smashed. Potential purchasers still visit and bolt for the hills once they see the Cathedral even though forewarned and shown pictures.

I've been looking for a wee job. I hate to do this, feeling ill about it actually, but needs must. As long as it doesn't involve standing for any length of time, I'll be OK.

My retirement fund in the shape of the good equity in my home has evaporated like smoke. A friend's son said yesterday he's never seen elder abuse like this. And it stopped me in my tracks. Of course it's elder abuse. An elderly infirm woman being victimized deliberately by the wealthiest landowner in the town so he can pick up her property for a song. Like he's done many times before. But it's an old story, time and time again, being repeated everywhere. I'm powerless to do anything as he's within his rights, I couldn't get zoning laws put in place for the town because his family members are on council.

But I try not to brood on the downside of all of this.

Just do the next right thing.

And try desperately not to look backwards.

Chapters

I divide my life into chapters. This is the ending of another one.

I hosted my last PGs* last night. Three from BC plus two very well behaved dogs. their paws on the wood floors of my house and on my stairs had me unexpectedly and apologetically leak a few sniffles in spite of myself. I remembered with a kind of savage pain, the Wonder Dog. So I talked of her for a little while.

The three, a mother, her daughter and son-in-law were ascetic types. I would always fall in love with ascetics. You know the ones who have a spoonful of oatmeal, a radish and half an apple and call it a meal. Thin, tall lean hikers who say jolly good and gung-ho to anything that involves burning off 5,00o calories in an afternoon. Me? I count my life in meals eaten, where, when, and rate and oomph the OMG slobber factor for each and every one. Opposites attracting and all that.

They frowned on my breakfast offerings, the full Monte Newfoundland breakfast which would cement your stomach in place for two days, and had dabs of porridge, yogurt and teeny tiny spoonies of my selection of jams. That was it. No toast, or ham or eggs or scones and just the one cup of coffee they allowed themselves a day, and they were on their skinny greyhoundy way. I wish we all could be mixes of this type, the lusty gustoes and the leany beanies.

More potential buyers have turned around at the site of the Cathedral. It is getting wearisome, I admit.

Grandgirl recommended a really lovely book which her mother has subsequently read and passed on to me. I'm thoroughly enjoying it. I will review it when finished. It takes me out of myself.

I know I have to move but the inertia has gripped me with icy cold fingers and I'm stagnant and paralyzed and don't know how to begin. I curled up around a cheery fire today and did absolutely zero apart from nap and read. A friend had provided me with a large pot of stew so there was nothing to do apart from simply set a date and helpers but it all seemed far more than I could possibly manage.

I took the pretty picture above this morning, in my bathroom, of the last of the community garden flowers that have kept the rooms in my house blooming over the summer. The picture below is of my first knitted flowers which I created on another story shawl for a dear friend.

*Paying Guests