Christ on a bicycle! What happened?! Three months have passed since I've made a peep (some of you may thank me for that). I haven't been writing. Actually, let me clarify that; I took a class in which I filed two assignments, became annoyed with the instructor's feedback, more annoyed that nobody surfaced for the weekly on-line chats after which I just dropped out. Way to finish something. Well, on the bright side, I have been drinking and smoking less frequently although yoga classes have gone by the wayside, mainly because on a good day, town is a half hour drive one way and fuel costs are through the roof.
Which brings me to the great epiphany I had yesterday while lolling about with a hangover as I stared out into the still partially snow covered fields. I'm outta here baby. Neither one of us wants to spend another winter up here in the big empty, replaying scenes from The Shining season after season. Before we plan this escape back into the world of the living we have much work to do at Wheatland--rooms to re plaster and paint, floor refinishing, a bathroom and kitchen and library to add, a bathroom to finish, plumbing and electrical to move, leaks to fix.... it goes on. Money is beginning to run down and trying to keep costs to a minimum requires both our undivided attention to the tasks at hand. Here is where motivation comes in handy.
Still unemployed, one of my great morning past times now is to sit unmoving in Rayna's 'safe place' while she decides to eat her breakfast, or not, dependant on her state of mind any particular day. As of late, hand feeding is de rigueur while trying to shoo cats away from her bowl and deflect Pip's snarly glances. I think about getting things done while on watch duty. My thinking usually takes me throughout the day until somewhere about five o'clock, I start thinking about dinner.
I am not a self-starter and self-employment would be... well, let me just say that I'm putting it into practise right now.
This day reading my email I came across our final snow-plowing bill from the neighbour which is always met with a mix of trepidation and amusement. The final bill is usually the time when the wifes' creativity flourishes and she makes up extras to tack on, bilking us for all she's got. This bill used the term 'upper driveway', a charge now separate from 'driveway'. But, to lessen the blow, a 'no charge' for checking the driveway appeared. Thanks for that freebie. I could have told you it was still there. Considering that it snowed twice worth plowing since the mid-winter bill was paid out, her creativity is unsurpassed. Must be all the suduku puzzles she does on the crapper increasing her brain power--then again, standing around the garage drinking beer every day probably cancels that out.
I don't have a plan. It doesn't matter where we end up once we're done here, albeit hopefully in a more convenient place to employment, people and places. What matters is that we don't give up and see this through. We made the choices and now we have to clean up the mess if we're to move ahead. Actually, it gives me hope and poses challenges that I really hope we're up for. Here's to sanity.
Be seeing you.

The past two days of unrelenting drizzle finally morphed into snow this morning; fat sticky flakes quietly blanketed the green and the grey and the brown. I was out with Rayna when the transformation occurred as little pellets taking over from rain prickled me in the face. I begged and pleaded with her to follow me indoors. Drat. In the end, out came the lead and I dragged her wet sorry ass through the door.

It's a sort of nonniversary for me today. It's been two weeks to the hour as I write this since my termination. Restructuring they called it.

Within ten minutes of my arrival at my desk with barely time to log in, I was summoned by our group director who ridiculously guided me through a rat-maze of cubicles and hallways in a pathetic attempt to conceal our final destination. MI5 she was not. Enduring her nervous small talk in a shaky voice she finally delivered me to a lower level board room where a girl child, who quite likely was all of about five years old when I began work with the company, awaited my arrival.

We were introduced as one would present a prospective applicant except this was the part where I would be delivered the blow, albeit not entirely unexpected.

'Hi. Nice to meet you. We regret to inform you, blah blah, your position is hereby deemed terminated and non-essential, blah blah. Then, blah blah blah, blah blah. Pause. Any questions?'

Yeah, um, wait up a bit, I'm just going to pick myself up out of the ditch across the road because I've been broadsided by a train.

My director stood up, sobbing, shaking and apologized. I in turn choked. I knew this woman, for better or worse for over two decades. My former mother-in-law knew her for years before that, as did my husband as a child--her dog bit his nose leaving a scar. We shared much history, maybe some of it uneventful, but a chapter in my life was slamming shut. She left the room to retrieve my coat and bag suggesting that I may not wish to do so myself.

When the door closed, the soulless girl child gave me her best but practised pity face and empathy blink and said, "Oh...it's okay to be upset. It's understandable. You've just lost your job."

Something went off in me for a second, like a misfired synapse. I struggled for a moment against my natural urge of releasing the beast but instead wiped my eyes and in a steadied voice looking straight at her I smiled and said, 'Oh, that... I was only upset for her sake. So where were we?'

Very quickly and efficiently, she explained the paperwork. It felt like an hour's pause before my belongings arrived. Truth be told, I couldn't wait to get out of there; possibly more so than they couldn't wait to have me out of the building.

So here I sit on this snowy winter morning. As I write this blog, I am fulfilling one of the many promises I have made to myself in an attempt to shed my old skin and change my life in order to move on.

1/ Write--no excuses. Just write.

2/ Drink and smoke less. Much much less...

3/ Begin yoga classes again.

4/ Lose some weight

5/ Learn French

6/ Sign up for a photography workshop

7/ Knit a scarf and hat for my husband, preferably by Christmas

8/ Make rag and monster dolls

9/ Work on the house

10/ Start cooking

I know the list reads like some New Year's resolution scribble made in a drunken stuppor after midnight the night before, tacked to the refridgerator only to be discovered in horrific amusement the following morning. It doesn't matter gentle reader. Sometimes you just have to keep on keepin' on. Welcome to my world.