Wow the first? hmmmmmm,as it stood ,there were very few people who braved the hurricane force winds,and mountains of wet leaves,the slippery stairs and the major drop in temperature.......but we did,we are the family who are first ,and keep on truckin to the last minute.....well maybe not

About a half hour in,when Mimi's boots were soaked,and my son had already filled up a third of his bag and was eyeing his loot longingly,a half hour in when I would have fell on my knees and started to worship if I found a porta-potty on the corner of the street, imagining the looks of neighbors as I squatted to pee in the bushes,the taunting poor Moe would get forever known as the kid whose mother pees in bushes,we turned around and went back to our house. I went to the washroom,changed Mimi's socks and boots took off her wet jeans and put on a pair of PJ's over the cutest long john's,ones I found on sale (insert squeal here),pink with little brown squirrels and acorns........off subject off subject all to say she was now warm and dry and ready,so was I ,passing on any form of hydration....and there was Moe sitting next to his grandmother on the couch shoes already off and the top to his costume ( Mummy, it was suppose to be  a skeleton,but on Friday the skeleton costume got ripped ,apparently while it was in it's bag,maybe it was a ghost...that's his story and he's sticking to it) his grandmother who would have come if it had not turned into an obstacle course of slippery leaves and trying to avoid ass connecting with pavement or worse sound of cracking hip,and sirens,I want her memories of Canada to be fond ones,or at least ones that include no bodily harm,so she stayed at home and watched grandson perform the North American tradition of pigging out on halloween candy,becoming wired and silly then passing out into a sugar coma.

Off we went my daughter and I, she was dressed yet once again this year as a princess,and BTW so were many other little gilrls,a coven of pink and sparkly dresses with tiara and shiny gloves, and then the mommy add ons the ones she was not to happy about,the glowsticks everywhere and the pumpkin necklace lit up as if to herald the arrival of my daughter,the one that can be seen from outer space, and then the final insult the one she talked about a lot,the accusations, the complaining, that made me wanna sit on the corner and start crying while foraging through her bag of goodies,body rocking back and forth back and forth,the one that made me wanna scream at her on the sidewalk " If you don't stop complaing we're going home asap",but instead was limited to the look,I dared to put on her coat under the costume......how dare I,how dare I ruin the line of the dress, now she looked stuffed ,like a shiny pink sausage,except I always imagine sausages smiling and she wasn't she was pissed,I commited the mommy sin of being practical,of thinking ahead of preparing,I was officially a Mom and sometimes in a daughters eyes that is so not cool ,I mean that I was so far from being cool as to be like major annoying.

About an hour in her bag started to get heavy,the bag she was holding on so tightly to,that I checked regularily to make sure she still had color in her fingers,the bag she eyed like a lion eyeing it's prey ,the bag I suggested she let me carry as a way to help her maneover herself and the dress only to be shot down  " I can do it myself Mom", she said rolling her eyes I mean how dare I even offer help? hmmmm I suspect that when hallowen comes my daughter becomes possessed by the scariest of beings the one known as "The Biligerant Child",the possession lasts for 4 hrs max or until the elements or fatigue kick in,in this case a combo of both bc as warm as it was when we left at 17:00 the temperature fell 11 degrees,and add to that winds that saw papers flying through the air and me eyeing for falling branches and not shooting stars as Mimi thought,kicked in with fatigue and she actually admitted that the coat was a good idea and then said I should have brought mittens too,and could I hold her bag,and I did but not before pulling some mittens out of my knapsack .The admiration and appreciation that shone out of thoses eyes was enough for me to bite my tongue and refrain from saying " Told ya so" I didn't need to, the possession was over,her bag was "plein a craque" and it was time to go home.

Later in the evening when they were both asleep I nipped in to cover them up only to find that a glow stick had broken somehow and the comforter was glowing it was beautiful and magical and OMG is it poisinous,did they drink any holy shit maybe I should wake them up are they breathing ,quick poison control center quick wiki the ingredients........after a couple of deep breaths I looked at their mouths nothing,found the glow stick in question,very little was gone,calmed down I mean OMG calm down woman.

By then I was suppose to get ready for a party a party where I was to dress up,a party where there would be actual strangers,a party where I would be encourged to circulate and drink punch,a party I just couldn't bring myself to go to,so instead I had a bubble bath,popped some popcorn the old fashion way...sorta ,Jiffy Pop and the miracle that is the aluminum dome I still find it amazing when it does that,stacked some pillows up,wrapped myself in my new comforter and fresh clean sheets and watched bits of all the horror films that were on, it felt nice and fresh and homey,it's what I need right now, it is so what I need right now

That each choice made with honesty and integrity and sometimes irreverence ,permits a life to be lived.

One of the most wondrous things I have noticed about me is that through all the insecurities,through all the times I questioned...perhaps too much ,that there will always come a moment where it feels like it has all passed to bring me to this one place of pure unadulterated amazingness,it is in the sitting with the moments that pull my heart apart that it's openess is what invites life in.

My rendition of Defying Gravity....chills baby chills,well perhaps not but there is something almost sacred about the whole ritual of rituals and that weird confidence-peace-strength thing........man some one reel me I'm beginning to sound like them noooooooooooooooooo, Hey Elphaba, I'm coming with you

I think caring is like a tide,ebbing and flowing with an imaginary moon guiding it along in a way that is never to really be understood,so many factors coming into play aside from gravity in the form of a heart and soul,and the good and bad shit that happens to us while living this life.

If I took a video camera and followed people at random the lens would capture everybody ,at one time or another,performing caring rituals.

A nurse skipping a break to just sit with a family whose life has been changed forever by illness or death....and the moments after ,when the compass is gone,and aloneness so profound sets in,and in a crisis lending ones own compass is only three letters away from compassion...and later in a hurry neglecting to listen to his child's voice,his lover's voice, and moments away the sound of change falling into hands no questions asked,and a week later an afternoon spent redifining the lines of his lover's body,reconnecting with children his children,ebb and flow ebb and flow

Watching as  she takes the dry bread and breaks it into tiny crumbs for the birds,and then scattering nuts for the squirrels.We now have the street's largest population of live in squirrels,and birds and each day I am privy to a corner of the city that I call home as the disney fiesta takes over and I have smiled more than once more than a thousand times. Yet we can pass a homeless person without a second glance,no nuts,no bread only to take in another soul,and comfort sweet blessed comfort,and a coffee slid into the hands of a sans abri,minus 40 degrees and him sleeping in the atm...ebb and flow ,ebb and flow

How to measure a life....I think when I do it almost invaribly sets it up for irony

Years ago my Dad was explaining university to me,I was nine or ten and he explained how fortuate we are here in Canada that it was still affordable to everyone,he then went on to say that the world should be set up so that school on any level is free to those who work hard that for all those a and b's we got for effort should really count,that if you put 100 % into your studies regardless of whether you get an A or a C your effort is what counts,I think life should be tht way,,.

If you give of yourself into the things you choose,family,art,community,love etc...,you bask in abundence,and all those people who do a half assed job or less well you walk 2 hrs for water for once,only to be beaten into submission by a soldier,or raped and now pregnant with a child you will not be able to feed,or even if you could  raise this child,you couldn't bc your life will be cut short by AIDS,into a mass grave for you,one of the millions,a body not worth anything to anyone anymore and all the memories lay in the bodies around you,well maybe not but shit it just becomes so overwhelming the absurdity of it.....this life.....this life

What if money were an actual measure of a person's intentions,integrity,effort......

I think peace on earth has something to do with everyone going to bed with enough food in their bellies

On any porch where I accept that I am alone and it makes me feel strong not sad

Looking into their eyes ,and knowing no matter what ,they will always be loved

That moment right after her birth while I nursed her ,and many many moments after that.

I realize that this life will be speckled with pain,that's just the way life is,but all thoses speckles add up to the most magnificant canvas,awash with the color of experience and time and those beautiful possibilities that  alway lead up to something else.

I'm not a huge ice cream fan,but there is this place not far from here that makes their own gelato,sometimes I go and have some,along with an espresso,thinking about words and people,this life,my life their life and it feels like healing too,like the porch

2 mins before the sugar coma kicks in aka carb sleep

that said today the word content is hooking up with smarmy....nah smarmy is not the right word,ecru maybe...nah that's a color,hmmmmmmm nevermind, on the other hand boring ( said with that opera voice)> that's it,not to say contentment doesn't kick agonies butt at times in the choice department it's just like a pair of wool socks and today I'm a little prickly and enough

coffee anyone

OMG I'm assisting my son in skipping school today so we can go to the movies ,carb central if there ever was one

Only two more to go

and bc we are all celebrating let's rejoice in my fabulosity mine and your's 

That song by Regina Spektor which makes me think sometimes when we have lost our bearrings we hold on to the god thought for dearlife,yeah Regina no one laughs at god all right especially when they come home late or in a hospital.

Maybe in my sub concious there is a strange ambivilance that make my choice of partners almost ironic......oh dear ironic reminds me of moronic,but I digress,and love well it is what it is in the heat of the moment or when they come home late or when we are in a hospital and he holds me close and vibrates with culture and tradition and five prayers sometimes for months and then he slacks and all the rituals in the world are waiting on the sidelines to forgive,the power of allah......still well  in the throes of passion going to that place which lets us vibrate together and move and slide and swerve and taste...no one ever tasted like him,the five times to seven times bathing ritual and still your sweat is marked by the fragrance of your energy and somehow for a few moments there is no god,but us the miracle of bodies and energy mingled with the miracle of love...only for it to torture us with moments of me and enough is enough and iconaclastic space ,my space,and a hand that slides between my thighs and really ,enough, as tears fall,and flowers grow

What does god mean to me? a knick knack to be put on the shelf of life to collect dust and eventually find it's way into the proverbial box of crap that gets sold at a garage sale,usually the last box taken out the last remenants of a week end,will it sell or not......and eventually it will not,turing into a tale like an antique how cute we were years ago bc oh yes people do laugh at the absurdity of archaic ideas projected onto something that in the end doesn't exist ,but we do....sigh.OMG I think I just saw the tooth fairy and he looks just like The Rock and he's kissing Regina

Some people have a hard time dealing with the truth,with life,while others have a hard time telling the truth without wanting it to hurt.

At the end of my shift the other evening,I took the hallway out to the exit ,and I overheard my colleague asking an elderly lady where she lived,the lady responded in the west island, where I work is not the west island and where my colleague lives even further away,but bc it was late and bc public transport is spotty this time of evening ,and bc my colleague is one of the most amazing people ever ,she gave the lady a lift home,what's even more awe inspiring is if I hadn't witnessed this exchange no one would have ever known about this aok,that's how she is generous ,funny,discrete ,and to make this even more awe inspiring she not only worked the evening shift but she was at uni all day,oh yeah she has like the best hair too,I'm in awe of good hair.

Sometimes when it gets loud,when the childen get caught up in an

almost hysterical wave I will whisper,it is for me as efficient as shouting over them,but oh so much softer,the message,I love you,and take it down a notch please.

I whisper in the midst of a body wave,the energy ten fold with soft words and subtles sighs and ahhs,the ebb and flow

I whisper in their ears,messages of joy and appreciation,the thanks yous born of gratitude and love,of being bowled over in a moment

I whisper to myself daily reminders to stay in the now,to let go to chill out to listen,bc whispering requires closeness

I whisper sounds and words just bc,the effect certain groups of letters or words can have to swing a day electric,or into sleep,falling off the tongue,like syrup,slow and fine,a tongue deliberate ,all those nerves

I whisper bc whatever is said sounds special,the lips exact and the breathing so right,in the end it is never to hide anything but to divulge the intensity of a moment,it is to share in the quietest  of ways

  

learning ummmm no.

One you see the other you feel

How could I have not learnt about other religions lord(I just giggled) knows people like to talk about their faith....often ad nauseum

The god word,grrrrrrrrrr, the faith word bleuh,the I have found the lord and it has changed my life...puleeeeeze,By now I have mastered the leave me the fu%$ alone with your blinded convictions look ,almost John Belushi in it's cutness- seriousness,your I'm going to hell and you are not attitude I mean c'mon hell allways seemed more interesting anyways,I have kids white just never works for me,I clean enough as it is,and red and warm well it sounds like a vacay to me,plus generally as a rule people talking religion ( esp the convictors,like dementors,but more dangerous) bore me to tears really I yawn and tears spring forth from my eyes,wedgies for the whole lot of ya

I have found myself running the gamut these last few months,thrown into a muslim-mormon maelstrom that has seen me grow a set of balls ( hello miracle) and come to understand myself and my extended family much better,there is a real strength in the bonds that have been formed and broken only to be reconfigured like adults do when they behave.

Understanding that culture-religion can be a beautiful thing and a very nasty thing something used to repress,and hold power over people,men and woman,plus man do I look bad in a hijab really bad the kind of bad that makes me want to have plastic surgery bad,the OMG is my nose really that big bad...nah it's the hijab baby,and yet once off I kick ass,universe telling me something

I have seen real faith,the quiet kind,the accepting kind,the kind that stems from generosity and gentleness,the one that doesn't need to be fed by daily comparisons and judgements. The one that finds a woman praying 5 times a day,and then holding my face and telling me how wonderful I am....another miracle it took months and now she's going and I cry every day,my parents both gone she has become the surrogate and there is amongst the enormous differences,a complicity and an almost unconditional sense that this was meant to be,a dull pain starting around my heart,and it's not pericarditis,and this silent knowing that I will go there and understand more about myself about this world I live in.

I do not believe in god bc there isn't one, but when I am around her I believe with her bc we create our own realities and there is a lot to be said for the quiet strength of faith,the intimate the private.

I am hooked on podcasts ,which ease me into sleep ,two o'clock in the a.m.,and the only scary thought that I have,is there anything hiding under my bed,aside from the electric dustbunnies and a broken heart

Photo from Flikr 

R. Duran

and if that doesn't work,there's always beer,yes,lots of beer

O.k. coffee in hand and time for a wee edit.

How do I respond,not very well at times,and then wham solid as a freaking rock,hello Peaches how's Herb oops Ashford and Simson ,and yet, I was so certain.

I'm not consistant that way I know there is a pattern to my life it's just not that obvious,to me anyways,and uncertainty,well I feel in a constant state of flux all the time,it rarely feels stagnant or predictable anymore,it almost feels foreign if were not for the dimples above my butt been there since I was born,or this voice which has been the same since I was five,my eye's are the same and when I look in the mirror( never before noon) it's me I see still there are these profound moments like mini shocks ,the ones that follow choices the ones that follow realizations and I guess that's where uncertainty lies,I never really know who I will be in two years hell in to minutes,I guess I could respond that I am amazingly strong almost zen in my approach but hey it's bc I stop talking when things feel awkward different,off,I suppose I could say hey I'm a mess and shut down and function rather poorly yet it only appears that way bc I pull away,sometimes just to stare at my toes,and sit while others talk,often strangers in cafes or parks dialogue predictable ,or dialogue like kaliedoscopes,that's it life is a zillion pieces falling into place mandelas and other patterns illusions and light, an interesting painful mindblowing lovely ball of color that never looks the same,I respond to uncertainly the same way you do ,it just looks different

photo from flickr ,Dragan*

Luxury for some is a waste of time for others,or just waste period( I so know I could never be Amish,although the quilts divine and cleanliness thingy YES,the headress and god stuff,uh uh OMG no electricity definitely not,well not forever anyways) it is hooked onto words like wasteful and shame,and PE ( winky winky) yet in the end it is part of the color in my life the moments just passed doing nothing but looking at squash,the days spent laying languidly in a forest of leaves,of finding the absolute perfect perfume sometimes it costs a buck sometimes a whole paycheck,the luxury of being myself in a world that is set up for billions of mees not simple but in the end the only way when death is imminent for us all.

It hasn't always been easy me and luxury sometimes I didn'tlisten other times I felt ignored sometimes I even committed the sin of letting myself go of taking for granted,of becoming so lost in self indulgence that I lay there surrounded in soul sloth,funny how it could turn out to be one of the finest relationships I had in the sense that I learnt so much from it,about my strengths and weaknesses about learning to listen to know what I really want about letting go of false needs and embracing real wants,I blow you a kiss luxury I have been blessed

Desperation

Hurt

fear

fig gelato