On Wednesday we had more snow fall than we had all of last year combined.
Driving back from Hamilton after coffee with friends was particularly challenging. I avoided the high winds on the Skyway bridge over the entrance to Burlington harbour. Instead I took the unplowed and unsalted road along the lake. Slow going but the Lincoln handled it with relative aplomb, as long as one had a delicate touch with the accelerator.
The next mourning, two plus hours of shoveling and car moving about, oh and in heels. Wouldn't want my crazy neighbour to think I am nothing but a helpless woman.
Seville's bustle back filled in by wind and snow
Poor Lincoln lived its early life in Florida
Opened as a toll bridge in 1958, paid off and toll removed 1973
In case any of you are still looking for gifts for little ol' me (nothing that makes me look like a grandmother OK? already feeling old and haggard enough) here are some ideas:
Last week was unmitigated hell, I was seriously depressed for a week which was damn close to me seeking professional help. All I could do was lie on my bed and imagine inventive ways to do myself in. Every time I attempted to pull myself out of it something would go wrong and I would be two levels further down in my personal Inferno. I wrote a very raw blog post that I chose not to inflict upon you dear constant reader. Finally on Friday evening I managed to break free of the darkness and start work on a writing assignment. Actually I am feeling rather proud of myself right now. This afternoon I was even dancing around the basement rec room with my youngest daughter. No my heart didn't grow two sizes that day but I am hell of a lot less grinchy right now! I even survived a rather painful fall on a freshly washed kitchen floor, less haste more speed. Still hurts like the Dickens though. Oh don't worry about the title of this post, its a line from my new favourite Christmas song:
Merry Christmas to all the guys and gals out there who didn't start that way. I hope Santa brings you a GTO.
Sometimes it is the straw that breaks the camel's back. I think I have reached the point where I say I have had it.
But what can that mean, there is no going back, not that I would ever want or attempt to. The way forward seems not difficult but impossible sometimes. To be stuck in no man's land after so long a struggle is heartbreaking.
Bureaucratic road blocks, the difficulty in finding a job, too many carrots dangled in front of me maddeningly out of reach.
Perhaps I will feel differently tomorrow.
The following tracks are from Alex Chilton's 1979 album, Like Flies on Sherbert produced by the other worldly Jim Dickinson (I enjoy spinning the Jester's Cadillac Man in happier times) in Memphis. The music is both new and old, broken, disjointed and captivating. Long a favourite of mine, its confusion and anger mirrors my own feelings better than I could explain. Here are two tracks, I've Had It a cover of the old Bell Notes hit and the archaic No More the Moon Shines on Lorena:
I know I am being hypocritical having posted a series of mostly secular Christmas songs last year at this time but this season the endless drivel of 'holiday" standards croaked by an ever changing retinue of aging pop stars makes me want to drive my Thunderbird through a shopping mall like Jake and Elwood.
Gosh that felt good to write.
I am not a church goer…..I think I have authority issues. I have belief, though my faith may be lacking.
Two different religious themed videos held me in their sway this week and both made me cry……I blame the hormones. One the post apocalyptic movie Book of Eli, succinctly summed up by a friends teenage daughter as Denzel Washington and a Bible, the other a hymn that a younger me once sung at school.
I offer both as an antidote to the endlessly cloying December to Remember commercials.
Having trouble shaking a apocalyptic feeling, so I made a chocolate cake with ingredients left in the fridge.
not my 59, I am a slightly better parallel parker
The Cadillac on top of the cake is a homage to Ant Farm's art installation history of Cadillac tail fin in Amarillo, Texas. The cars are half-buried nose-first in the ground, at an angle corresponding to that of the Great Pyramid of Giza. Created in 1974 the Cadillac Ranch cars are from 1949-1963 but to truly represent the full fin era they should include a 1948 and 1964 model.
God its been a hard couple of weeks, even my normal happy go lucky facade (that's a joke, I am more morose than your average Russian poet) has begun to crack. I spent a part of this morning alternately crying and screaming into my pillow.
Managed to pull myself together to get some work done then pick up children and make dinner.
Oh and the cake….delicious. Not the musical choice you might expect, this one is for commentator extraordinaire, Cass:
You know what they say better get yourself a Cadillac now because you are going to ride in a long black one eventually…..
Every idiot who goes about with Happy Holidays (PC don't cha know) on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. (Scrooge)
Christmas has always been a difficult time for me. The forced consumer happiness of the season never meshed well with someone so unhappy in their own skin.
Working freelance has been rather hand to mouth so I cannot even anesthetize myself with a glut of gift buying. Quite a relief not to worry about finding the perfect gift when you can't afford it :)
I did put up the Christmas lights more out of a sense of duty rather than seasonal joy. The artificial tree goes up this weekend. It even snowed today much to the delight of the children and snow plow operators.
always wanted a metallic white or pink Christmas tree, maybe next year
At the grocery store the piped in carols were doing nothing for my morose mood, a dwindling bank account and sense of rejection on the employment front made me want to stick a gun in my mouth….yeah what a drama queen.
What I miss most of all is a sense of purpose, of being useful.
As I waited in line silently cursing Christmas Muzak, the cashier, gently woke me from my revelry, saying Mam your next?
Shouldn't I turn this post around and make it about being thankful:
I should be thankful that I pass. It is hill we all choose die on. I expect to pass now with both men and women. There is still a little residual fear but that too I hope will disappear with SRS. I am no Amanda Lear but I know some guys look at me and their attention is not because I look like a freak but they may actually like what they see. An idea I still find hard to accept.
Make no mistake I have a lot to be thankful for, I am still at home, have my children, friends and my health.
Here are some very beautiful but rather sad Christmas songs by the Ravonettes:
