Off the Ball on Sunday Smatterings.

As an opposite to on the ball. Things evade me at times. I wonder about my brain, But it is not degenerating in that downward elderly direction, it seems to have been always this way. Obvious solutions to little problems evade me. Give me big ones and I'm your woman.

Case in point: I have this cheap reading/crafting light I bought in New Brunswick last year when I was on that week with my dear friend Lana. I had to buy it as the cabin we rented was high ceilinged and no bedside light. Something like $10 at Walmart. Honestly? It is one of the best focussed lights I've ever had. But the switch at the top of the shade has gone temperamental. As cheap switches do. The threads wearing out on the cheap connectors. So I struggled the last time I switched it on. It took several minutes and I sighed and thought this effing disposable consumer culture we have. Even though I contribute to it by buying cheap lamps at Walmart. So I was on the point of wrapping it up a couple of hours later when I thought: It will still work if you just plug it out and plug it in when you need it. I felt inordinately proud of this moment. Would you have arrived at that conclusion immediately?

This place goes mad at Christmas, cookies and chocolates everywhere. Parties with live music. Doors dressed in snowman gear. Here's a few samples.
Mr. & Mrs. Clause

I've always loved lit miniature villages, this one covers the entire mantle piece in the upper gallery.

This is a bit blurry. But this is the scene looking down to the main community room from the gallery at the Xmas Tree and all the lights.

Rising Up

Thanks for all the comments on my last post. My realtor had called on me after the turnarounds of potential clients. I should mention my realtor's wife is dying of cancer and my concern was more for him than for the unimportance of my house when real-life horrors visit. They had thought she could abandon her chemo (6 years of it) as the quality of her life had deteriorated so badly but she had been rushed to emergency after a week. She is stabilized now and had insisted he leave her bedside and visit me.

We were both in agreement that we deal with the Cathedral head on in any publicity and also that I write an essay on what the house means to me and my story while I lived here. All that I had accomplished and fostered and enjoyed and improved upon and preserved.

Meanwhile I had spoken at length to a dear and wise and old friend in Ontario. He is one of these steady people, hand firm on the tiller of life, no room for the wild and crazy and unpredictables. I value his take on life, very different to my own and over the years we have just enjoyed each other's differences and valued each other's advice.

So he said why don't you crunch through the numbers and see what is the very minimum you would take for the house to keep you floating financially until you, well, snuff, and then if you get anything above that it will be a bonus. So I took the time to do this.

I felt so much better after the meeting with my realtor and my long conversation with R.

It is rare you meet a realtor who sings from the same page and I feel so fortunate with C.

So he had a call yesterday from a young couple and he mentioned the Cathedral and they were untroubled and enthused about the B&B and the cabin and all the positives so they're visiting tomorrow afternoon.

Fingers crossed but my thinking has shifted after the initial shock and horror. So yeah, onward and upward.

But my knees have taken a beating, I can tell ya.

Problems and Solutions

I've recently been thrust into a position of enormous trust which was an intrinsic component to my decision in having some recent downtime on the blog.

I've been writing for years and years (and years) on the disturbing trends in increased corporatism, rampant climate change, the ongoing inequality of women and social classes, not to mention ethnic groups, the shrinking fixed incomes of private sector single retirees, the hellish marriage of church and state, oh, bloody hell yawn, I could bore for Canada on such matters. And beyond.

So where to begin. I mean the whining has to stop, the blood pressure has to be lowered. So then what?

Well, it begins where I live. I can only change me. And then it was down to a nutshell. Do I continue to piss into the wind or do I turn around and become part of the solution. Maybe a solution that is just felt in me and the small territory around me. Maybe sprinkle a little more awareness with a spice of:

"Will you look at that erosion on our seashore in front of our noses there".

"How about old Albert, is he getting extended home care, we don't want him leaving his house, he loves his bit of garden so."

"What do you think, we have that old trail winding up to the most gorgeous bird-rimmed fish-filled lake, maybe we can get together and clear off the bits of brush on the sides of it and put picnic benches by the lake and Joe over there would write the story of it. What a tourist attraction for our small outport and for us!"

So, yeah.

I'm becoming part of the solution. It's not the years in my life, it's the life in those years.

Wish me well.