Hot Damn!
2018 - really! How the fuck did that happen. Since I last left you, I have dropped the ruminations (i.e. whining about my faults) and moved on. Physically moved on. I found my tiny perfect house, remember? Well that blew up. In an okay but sad way.

In September of 2016 Brandy asked if I could come and stay for a few weeks in Toronto. She had to go on an art residency for a few weeks in Calgary and Patrick was just finished his chemo, and was weak, so she wanted me to keep a look out for him. No problem.

I went early, settled in and then boom. Patrick died. His chemo unsuccessful, cancer ran through him in a matter of  days. From the moment they told him the cancer had spread until he died was 9 days. It was a dreadful time. It was a dreadful year as was the year that followed. I never went back to Vancouver. I now live in Toronto, closer to Brandy, just down the street actually.

We are just emerging from a year of trauma and grief, topped off with psychopathy and evil acts by Patricks business associate. It was indescribable. It was so bad I had a heart attack. Yup just when I though it could not get worse, boom it did.

2018 is showing hints of being better (like it could get worse? Shutup of course it can)

I will try as I have tried so many times before to blog again with some consistency. Ha! Once a year is consistent.

My Tiny Life

July 2016 - another year, another post.

What happened to me in the last year was shocking, miserable, awful and ultimately redeeming. Look at me! Such a loser at life. Mean, nasty, revengeful - and those are my better qualities. I also made huge changes in my life, some by choice and some by chance. I

 have reconciled to the fact that I am not perfect, and recognizing that, cannot expect it in others. I have chased perfection, even knowing I was not in the same league, knowing that I failed in so many areas, and when perfection never came, and the disappointment set in, I would start again.

All of this has led me here, so welcome to my crappy life. I do not play well with people. I like myself better than I like most other people, in fact I like dogs more than I like people. I have been disconnected from my family for more than 30 years, and with my own chidren, I am close to my daughter but she lives 3,000 miles away and my son is more like me than I wanted because he has chosen to do what I did and disconnect from his family.

I needed a space that was away from "others" because I need to reflect and to work on me. I needed to simplify my life, getting rid of the burdens we carry, physical and mental.

And so it began, I sold or gave away most of my worldly possessions, the couches, the chairs, tables and other detritus of existing in the world. My criteria for living space was to look for a simple place, I wanted something that was "small" and for me that would mean leaving 750 square feet and filtering down everything so it fit in a much small space.

I am a craigslist junkie, I admit it. I check out everything from the free section, to the men seeking women section and right on thru to the best of section. I rarely buy anything from craigslist, but admit to using it to sell things. I always check whats available for rent.

Rent in this city is insane. In the last five years it has gone beyond reasonable right on thru to unattainable. But I look at the toney areas, the Kits beach, the west end, Yaletown etc. and realize never in my wildest dreams short of winning the lottery could I live in any of those areas. Then I check the funky areas like Commercial Drive and Broadway and Main, and those areas too have now escalated into the stratosphere as far as rent goes. I look at, but have never considered the outer fringes, like Surrey - yuck, Maple Ridge, Abbotsford - those areas still have rents I can manage, but are faceless, empty subdivisions filled with empty people.

But one day, I spotted something that appealed to me. A studio apartment. I always wanted to live in one. This said the description"tiny"  that is not forthcoming in Vancouver descriptions of real estate. All the new condos and apartments are really "tiny" at least to me. I was kind of keen on staying in this area, and by that I mean New West and close environs and this fit the bill, it was just over the line in Burnaby, just below Edmonds. I set up the appointment to view and at 6:30 on the day of viewing, I was there. It wasn't an apartment at all, it was a laneway house.

Laneway houses are all the rage here, its like a little house built in someones backyard. But tiny, holy crap it was 221 square feet, most people have garden sheds bigger than that. I knew it was what I needed to do the minute I saw it.

It worked out so that I got the place, even with my two happy little dogs. And that means the new journey begins. And all journeys take courage my love.

Jorge Jesus Lopez aka PEZ

Time accelerates.....

When you are 10, February is the longest month. You sit in your 5th grade room and watch it slowly slowly, very slowly go by. It takes forever. Easter break will never come and Summer break will never arrive. And then you are in the 10th grade, and the days still loom long. Being grown up takes forever. Love will never get here.

Twenty finally arrives, and then quite quickly, thirty is here. The next job, the next home, the next child.

This morning when I woke up I knew it was early, the light just starting. The next thing I realized was that I hurt, my back was sore, my legs were aching, it felt like an all nighter that lasted a week.  I threw back the duvet (when did I get that?) and stumbled to the washroom, an over full bladder propelling me.

After, I stood in front of the sink to wash my hands and that was when my breathing stopped. Holy shit! Who was that in the mirror? An older woman, sixty if a day and looking like every inch of it.
It was me, the lines, the gray hair, the sags, the whole enchilada - and that's what I mean by time accelerates.

Does entrograde amenesia include the last 30 years! Man it just sped by. I have little more than a year to go until retirement and cannot wait. Not that I am eager to go travelling (as other retired people are want to do) or empty my bucket list (already working on the next one for my next life), I look forward to doing what I want every single day. Which, strangely enough was exactly what I wanted when I was 15.

Read all day, paint until 4 am, sleep until 2 pm. Wahoo! Bring it on. But looking back, there is a lot to reconcile. People I hurt, people that hurt me, thoughtless unkind things I have done, time lost with my children, love lost by my shallowness, lust that got mixed up with love, blah, blah, blah. It takes courage to look at all that, not to rationalize it but just to look at it for what it was, all my imperfections that caused so much anger, and loss.

Yes time travel takes courage, my love

Courage My Love December 28th 2013

Oh I am a random visitor in this outpost of the literary damned. Been a while, quite a while from the looks of it. Let's play catch up. Still the same stupid job, the same house, and the same town. Wow that was easy. Oh here's something new, remember I wanted to be debt free, well that was "consumer" debt free and that was easy. Then along comes the tax man and says, guess what, you can't escape big brother and you owe us $34,000. Fuck me gently. My life is designed for me to arrive at retirement age dead broke. Which come to think of it is not a bad idea, I am currently focused on ridding my self of earthly burdens and logically, money is one of those. Ah well, it's all good except the part where they actually expect me to fill out all those missing tax forms from years ago. Bite the bullet baby, jet do it and quit whining.  Maybe I'll pull an L. Ron Hubbard on them, declare myself a church and avoid taxes all together. Pretty bad when you are my age and your retirement plan includes winning the lottery to survive.

Well, onto now. I am moving. This house is too big, too empty, the yard is too big, the garden is a pain (and a joy). I am opting to move to a 1 bedroom and of course, have to down size. I have managed to give away two beds, a leather chair, a leather couch, all kinds of kitchen crap (like I am ever going to feel compelled to use a Bundt pan again - bahahahaha - NOT). Tons of linens (which is my weakness but I am fickle and always buy more) a TV, DVD and VCR player, oh make that 2 tv's. Once again I am TV free and loving it. A million CD's and VCR (???WTF???) tapes, surprised I don't have any old vinyl laying around. It's amazing the stuff that ends up coming with you on your journey.

Take for instance - well shampoo. How many bottles are in your bathroom? Currently I have seven. Seriously seven bottles of shampoo. Never mind conditioner. Hand lotion - five. Cream guaranteed to rejuvenate your crocodile skin - at least five. Toothpaste? Six. Deodorant? Four. Hand soap? Nine. Don't even mention toilet paper, I could build a Berlin wall with it. If the Apocalypse were to be now, I personally could make my hygiene items last until the next millennium. Talk about mindless consuming, I should be the poster child.  If I have a resolution for the new year it has to be "lighten the load". I refuse to keep accumulating crap. What am I? Some kind of crap magnet? Crap - Be Gone!

And seriously, it is crap. It doesn't make you a better person, richer person, smarter person, kinder person so it actually has no value to humanity, except of course, to make you less odoriferous, which in effect makes you less human, because as you know Humans are an odoriferous lot. Just get on a crowded bus at rush hour, you get my drift.

It is Saturday and I have no intention of leaving the house. I am baking bread, ok I will NOT get rid of the bread machine, which I think is the best invention, since, well, sliced bread! I don't use it to cook the bread, just to mix and knead it. My hands have suffered terribly in my life and are now devoid of strength or purpose, with the minor exception of holding a coffee cup or hitting the button on the slot machine. So I dump all the good stuff in the bread machine, although flour has a bad rap right now, but whatever. Hit the magic button and kapow! There it is... a beautiful bunch of bread dough, all elastic and fine like it should be, just waiting for a bowl to swell up in. Bread is erotic. Never mind the scene from the Postman always rings twice, just handling warm bread dough, smelling the sweet yeasty odour, feeling the silky smoothness of it. OHHH, sorry where was I?

So that is my day, and I'll throw in a tax form or two, maybe scrub a floor, and maybe just maybe paint. I know you can hardly contain your excitement, so how do you think I feel? Bread, like life, takes courage my love.