Wednesday, 21 January 2015

I hate January

There.  I said it.  I actually say it almost daily, and it has little to do with this post, but getting it down in writing is always a good thing.  This winter isn't nearly as bad as last year: it's much warmer here in Saskatoon and my anxiety level has dropped dramatically.  I feel more settled and can function after 8pm most days.  We're in for a thaw tomorrow, which means I should also be able to avoid the intense cravings for meat I had last year around this time.  (True story.  Take me out for a beer sometime and I can tell you all about it.)

Anyway, I've been making stuff and it's been much easier/less scary/more fun than I thought it would be.  It's the same old story: the anticipation of creating is a good deal more frightening and uncomfortable than the actual act of getting it done.  And though I've given myself permission for my makes to be ugly, most have been quite pretty.  Here is my hand cut snowflake made out of a page from Vogue magazine...

If you look closely, you can see super twit Kim Kardashian in there.  I specifically chose pages from the Kim and Kanye article to cut up, as I can't think of two people more deserving of being shredded.  Three of my snowflake creations now hang in the door way to my kitchen.  How stylish.

I also wrote haiku with random words people selected for me.  If I ask you to give me a word, you now know what I'm on about (other than being annoying).

Frigid river walk
Cauterized my aching heart 
Deadened senses drift


Scarborough subway
"Boondoggle" say the critics
Too late?  We shall see

My favourite makes so far are these rude cross stitches...

I have no words.  They make me giggle every time I walk by them.  And I haven't even framed them yet. 

I took a big, brave step and sent my flute into the local instrument repair shop to get a check up.  The last time I did this I spent an outrageous amount of money getting it adjusted, oiled, cleaned, and having some pads replaced, then I got it home and it felt exactly the same as it did before I took it in.  (Did I mention I even drove the damn thing to Toronto to have it serviced?  Seriously.  It was practically a suicide mission on the 401.)  I'm hoping for better results this time out.  My Powell deserves better, you know?  Another big step was contacting something called the Galliard Foundation here in Saskatoon to ask to perform in one of their upcoming Classical Variety Night concerts.  The next one is in February, which is too soon for me to get up in front of an audience, but I'll be playing in the spring edition.  I'm ditching the Baroque music and picking up a few French pieces from the late 19th and early 20th century.  I always felt most satisfied with my playing when I performed Faure, Gaubert, etc., so it's a fitting way to get back into it.

Other miscellaneous tidbits from my life (you can stop reading now if you don't care to hear about the boring stuff)...  1. My building had two break and enters in the past week, yet the property management company seems a bit reluctant to, you know, make the building more secure by fixing the locks on the front and back doors (their suggestion: make sure you have insurance!).  I pity whoever breaks in here, because they'll find I live a pretty basic existence.  If they want a crappy food processor, I'm their woman.  Hopefully it doesn't come to that.  2. I'm on the brink of giving up dairy as my body is throwing out signals that it really can't deal with it anymore.  I took a break from it for a couple of weeks, then felt like complete shit for three days after eating cheese pizza.  I'm sure I'll get over the loss, eventually.  3. Librarian-ing is still fabulous.  There's always lots to do, problems to solve, programs to plan, and bizarre things going on.  I love my job.  4. The fur children are doing well for a couple of oldies.  I can't believe Cameron will be 17 in March.  He still has that funny bump near his jaw and I've been putting off taking him back to the vet as I'm always convinced the next visit will be the one when the vet tells me he's living on borrowed time.  I know...bad cat mom.  I'll call tomorrow to see what we can do to (hopefully) fix him up.  Cleo is her usual princess self.  I've decided she only really wants me to get out of bed in the morning so she can have the whole bed to herself, not so she can enjoy my company over a cup of tea.  Bitch.

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