Updates and Such

It's been an interesting week. The weather warmed to lovely temperatures - which means it hovered around freezing instead of trying to mimic the Arctic. A huge storm missed us by heading east instead. Sorry, Chicago! The vintage china tea service that was shipped to me from Canada went on a lovely trip bouncing back and forth between Calgary and Louisville. It did finally end up in my possession and all the pieces are in excellent condition.

Husband decided he needed to help me maximize space in my new bookcase so more shelves will be built. Don't tell him this, but I kind of played dumb so he would do the hard work for me. What's a husband for, right? As a reward, I made him a lovely homemade pot roast dinner last night and he has been getting homemade cookies since he decided to dig out my stand mixer a couple of weeks ago. He's my hero. *grin*

Other than than spilling hot cocoa on my lovely grey cardigan this morning, things have been fairly quiet. I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop but crossing my fingers that after ten months of chaos things will settle down if just for a little while. If we can get through my birthday without any serious incidents or illnesses, I will be ever so thankful. Just two weeks. That's all I'm asking. Well, that and an easy way to remove hot cocoa stains from cotton jersey. Maybe world peace. But seriously, hot cocoa stains? Anyone?

Snow - Killer of Blissful Commutes Everywhere

Last winter we didn't have a lot of snow. I think it lulled everyone who lives here into complacency because this month has been full of the fluffy white stuff and while it looks gorgeous, it's playing havoc with my commutes. I grew up in the mountains where winters were long and snow was abundant. I know how to drive in ice and snow. Others around me do not.

It's not like snow storms are freakish occurrences. It happens. Every. Year. Multiple times over the course of a winter, even. And yet people forget they need to slow down a little and that slamming on the brakes is nothing less than a recipe for disaster. No, everyone wants to drive at their usual breakneck speeds down the highway, talking or texting on their cell phones, not paying attention and then slamming on their brakes when they realize the light turned read or the cars ahead of them have slowed to a crawl.

This is when accidents happen. So when it snowed last night and continued to snow this morning, accidents were inevitable. And accidents meant my commute suddenly went from a blissful 15 minutes to an unnecessary 45. I know there are people who commute for this amount of time or more every day, twice a day. I used to be one of you. But I paid my dues and now live 15 minutes from work. Which, as an aside, isn't always a good thing. Especially when everyone who works further away thinks the reason I'm late is because I slept in, not because I got caught up in a winter storm accident tsunami on my way to work.

I love snow. I love how it coats the world in a pristine crystalline white. I love how trees and grasses and shrubs take on new personas under the marshmallow pillows of snow. I adore watching my dog run and snort and track all sorts of creatures,  both real and imaginary, through the snow. The world becomes quieter somehow, and things are just a little more peaceful for a time.

Now, if I didn't need to get into a car and ruin my love affair with snow, all would be right with the world.

Earworm

Sorry for the lengthy absence. Sometimes life gets in the way of blogging and I have learned to be okay with that. Know that I have missed you and I have missed being here.

I don't often listen to the radio. My commute is no longer lengthy and honestly, I'm not a fan of most of the DJs on the stations in my market. I either listen to talk radio, my iPod or CDs. Or nothing. The voices in my head can provide me endless hours of entertainment when I let them. *grin*

My husband drove my car over the weekend and he never returns the radio to the station I was last listening to. I shouldn't have been shocked when I started the engine and music poured out of the speakers in ear splitting waves. Husband has a bit of a hearing problem. What did surprise me was the station he was listening to. He's not a pop guy. He's a classic rock and sometimes country guy. What I was listening to was pop. Specifically Taylor Swift. I call her a pop artist because even though she is technically country she is played on our pop and top 40 stations. She's ear candy. She's sometimes annoying. And she's everywhere.

Yes, I've been hiding under a rock because this was the first time I heard her song Trouble. The verse started out in Taylor's typical pop manner - a little upbeat with what I would call her trademark staccato word/syllable repetition. Then came the chorus and I was hooked. I can do without the verses, but the chorus, it's become an earworm. At first it was pleasant. I like the chorus, having it repeat in my head was kind of nice. Now, after several hours of the darn song playing on repeat in my brain? Not so much.

I think I need to plug in my iPod and listen to some Matchbox Twenty or P!nk. Maybe some Rush. Anything to get Taylor's quickly turning annoying earworm of a song out of my head before I go postal. Taylor, I knew you were trouble with this song. Shame on me now...

NaNo or Go Home

It's that time of year again. National November Novel Writing Month, affectionately known as NaNoWriMo.

I have attempted to complete a novel during NaNo. I've also finished some projects during the November writing marathons. And I've completely ignored NaNo knowing I didn't have the time to do the job well. If at all.

This year I have been struggling to connect with my next story. I've started a few, attempted to plot another and nothing is grabbing my attention. Until last month when I was journaling and suddenly I was writing this scene about a woman who died and is being brought back to life by a man who should be dead. Very supernatural. Very dark. And it wouldn't let me go.

I rushed the scene off to a friend this week asking her if she thought there was anything there. I don't know who the narrator is. I don't know anything more than that scene and the sense it wasn't time for her to die, but other forces wanted her out of the way. Desperately.

Oh, color me intrigued! And a little disappointed. I was hoping to get back into contemporary romance mode. I have nothing against paranormal romance or urban fantasy. I love the stuff! But I have been wanting to write a contemp romance for a long time. Have a few roughly etched out. I love a good relationship story and long to tell one. My muse has other ideas.

I'm getting over my disappointment. It will only kill the kernel of the story I do have. And I'm reminded that character and relationship is story in genre fiction. Yeah, I can do this and tell a relationship story. It may not be that contemporary romance I was longing for, but it will be the story that has me by the throat. And in the end, isn't that better?

So watch out NaNo, I'm coming at you with nothing more than a scene and a desire to see what happens next.  It's time to throw caution to the wind and write!

Friends and Gentle Reminders

I was out with a friend for lunch and we got to talking, as we do, about marriage. Our conversation moved into the territory of leaving and cleaving, needs and choices.

A healthy marriage consists of communication, positive conflict management and each partner having their needs met.  This is where I'm selfish. I want my needs met but I don't always see my husband's. We have lived in the chaos of renovations and higher education and work and life for so long, I think I've forgotten to really see him and his needs. And I interpret how he makes "requests" of me as attacks, as judgement or as a need to control his world. I forget that he needs structure and a certain level of order to the chaos. Me, I don't see the mess around me. I'm learning this is a coping mechanism and not how I actually function best, but I don't see the chaos. I survive despite it. 

So as my friend and I were talking and I shared with her a story about lemons, a kitchen sink and my husband, she gently but firmly showed me that my reaction to the situation was rather passive aggressive and that my husband likely needs some structure that I haven't been providing for him. She shared with me a different way I could have responded that would have met my need and given my husband what he needed. Instead of the push me pull you of relationship dynamics, I could have responded in a way that would have acknowledged we both have needs and we both know how to compromise in order for those needs to be fulfilled. 

We have a relatively healthy marriage, but even in good marriages there are things that need to be addressed and areas we can improve. Some behaviors that are getting in our way. Every marriage needs check-ups once in a while. A good physical where we can see potential issues or warning signs and head them off before they can take root and eat away at the foundation. 

I was reminded I need to really see my husband. To voice my needs instead of fuming at the status quo, and be willing to have some give and take that isn't all or nothing. That is, instead, partnering. These are not new concepts to me. There have been times I've been very good at these things. And times like now when I choose to act in a less than partnering manner. 

To change the patterns we are forming requires a willingness to change  behavior, and the willingness to have some difficult conversations instead of letting things slide. I can't change my husband's behavior, but I can change mine. I can't change his perspective, but I can work on mine. I can't make him share with me, but I can choose to share my needs, wants, thoughts with him. 

There are choices in every situation. They may not always be great choices, but there are choices. Letting things slide can lead to victim thinking (I had no choice, I can't change things, there's no point), or anger and resentment. Change which choice we make and we can instead work to build a stronger relationship. 

Lunch was good. The firm and gentle reminder was what I needed. I'm very grateful for friends who are willing to speak the truth. It helps me grow. And in turn, I hope it will help me as I continue to nurture and grow my marriage and my other relationships.

Just Ducky

My FIL's house may have just sold. After spending practically every weekend over there since Labour Day, it's nice to know our blood, sweat and tears are paying off. We hauled out so much crap and recycling from the basement and second floor it's not funny. I think the recycling dumpster at my husband's office has had more play in the last two months than it has ever in it's life. Yes, that is how much crap we hauled out. Most of it paper or electronics in nature.

We sorted. We tossed. We brought home little treasures and items to be sorted through later. We cleaned, we tossed some more. Hubby and his brother fixed miscellaneous items. The house never looked this good inside in the entire time I have been a member of this family. I almost wanted to make a bid on it myself!

We're going to miss the place. We haven't spent much time there over the last five years. My FIL and his wife became snowbirds and spent the winters out of state. Which meant they weren't around for Thanksgiving or Christmas. But after spending two months of weekends over there, I was reminded of why this is such a great house and just how unique it is, in this tiny micro-neighborhood where everyone has a huge wooded lot and houses built in a 70's modern style. It's like an oasis inside the city. You can't really hear a highway or traffic. You can't see your neighbors so you feel like you are out in the country. Wildlife is plentiful so if you're into birding or watching deer meander through your yard, this house would be the place for you.

While it hasn't quite hit my husband yet, this is going to be another good-bye. I know he's been saying good-bye to the house he grew up in for years. Life transitions have continued to remove him further and further from the home of his formative years - moving out, rooms being repurposed, renovations, and his father spending less and less time there.  Even cleaning through the house has been an exercise in saying good-bye. But the final farewell was just a theory. Something that was going to happen in the ambiguous future. Until that day, the house - and all it's memories - were still part of the family.

After December 7th, he'll only be able to lay claim to the memories.

I know how that goes. My grandmother's house on Vancouver Island was a place of joy for me. Every summer I would spend weeks there, exploring the house, the fields, the surrounding area. It was always filled with love and acceptance and my grandma's amazing pies. I loved this house and what it represented to me so much I felt I was going to die when both my grandparents passed away and the family sold the remaining property, including the house.

I would go out of my way and drive by the old farmstead every time I would visit, catching glimpses of changes to the house and the property. Once I even went to the door and asked if I could walk around the property. I never asked to step inside the house. Even if they hadn't changed a thing, it wouldn't be grandma's house anymore. And that I couldn't bear. I would take my memories, wrap them tightly about my shoulders and comfort myself with them.

My husband isn't as sentimental as I am, so I don't think he's going to break down in tears over the sale of his family home. I do know when the documents are signed and we have to hand over our keys, he's going to have a moment or two. Just like he did when we closed the cabin for the first time without his dad. Just like he will when a significant date comes and goes and his dad isn't there to share it with him.

Grief is like that. One day we can feel just ducky, life is fine. We have a handle on things. Then WHAM! out of now where we are hit with a memory, a thought, a niggle that reminds us that things have changed, that we have lost something. And that even though we are managing to move forward, there will always be a hole in our lives from our loss. And that's okay. Better than okay. Without his dad, my husband wouldn't be the man he is today. It's okay to ride the waves and ripples of grief and to acknowledge that this hole is never going to be filled. The hole represents his dad. A man who cannot be replaced. The pain associated with that hole will grow fainter. It will always be there in some way, but he will go days, months, years without it's acute ache.

Grief is necessary. And it's okay. I wish our culture was more comfortable with grief and loss. And the need to express the emotions surrounding both. Without grief, we can't fully taste joy. Without joy, we aren't fully alive.

Laughter: The Great Stress Reliever

This past weekend is the first weekend since we got the call that my FIL was dying that we didn't have any obligations. Okay, my husband had homework and we still had to take care of the dog, but we didn't have to be anywhere or do anything.

I did what I always do when I have a moment to relax. I ended up getting sick. I wasn't feeling that terrific all week and I don't get a lot of time off at work so because I wasn't contagious I Ididn't take any time off. Then I got good and achy and feverish on Saturday. Blessing in disguise because I ended up spending the day in bed watching Netflix and Hulu on my nook tablet, catching up on some shows and generally getting in some laughter therapy.

My husband spent Saturday taking care of some of the outdoor things - raking and bagging the copious amount of leaves blowing around the yard, fertilizing the lawn before winter sets in. You know, those adult-like things that must be done, but I prefer to believe the home maintenance fairies take care of while I sleep. For hubby, these things are therapeutic. I don't get it myself but I don't argue with the results. He's more relaxed, more centered and grounded. Now, if I could convince him that I'm more relaxed and centered when someone else takes care of these items on my behalf.

We ordered in pizza for dinner and spent some highly needed time just being with each other. We've been in one problem solving mode after another for the past three months that it was nice to just be. To breathe. To laugh. Was it ever good to laugh.

We release stress in a few different ways: crying, laughing, sweating. I haven't spent much time crying (I'm sure there's going to be a crying jag in my future). I sweat a bit at Pilates but am not really a fan - even during good sex. So we laughed. So hard my belly hurt and I was actually reduced to tears because I was laughing. So. Darn. Hard. I have no idea what I was laughing at, but man, did that release some of the pent up stress I have been experiencing.

A nice side effect was that my rolling-on-the-floor-dying-from-laughter episode was highly entertaining to hubby. Cuz, I live to entertain. *snort*

Laughter therapy. I highly recommend it. I also recommend going out for dinner with a good friend and laughing uproariously when it becomes apparent that the waiter is giving you special attention due to that shirt you wore that shows off your assets quite nicely. Anywhere you can find it, laughter can be great therapy.