Welcome to my Parlour ...

On August 26th, 2010, my mother passed beyond the veil.
This event has become a catalyst for change in many and often profound ways in my life.
This is my way of chronicling those changes so that I may, at a later date, have the ability to review and reflect upon them.

~ Go dtugtar breith orainn dá réir ár ngníomhartha. ~
(Let us, by our actions, be judged)

Monday, October 31, 2011

Standing up ...


Isn't it interesting how, no matter how old one gets, certain things can return you to an earlier state? 

In my case, I was advised by the estate lawyer (EL) on Friday to contact my sister and give her the opportunity to say her piece in the hopes that she will finally piss or get off the pot concerning the release she has been holding the whole process hostage with. After some further conversation with the EL, it was determined that the safest course of action would be for me to contact her via email and insist that only that medium should be the method of communication.

Why safest? 
Because, much as it shames the adult me to admit, my little sister is THE BULLY of my childhood. 

I was a much bullied child ... bullied at school for being odd and different (the least of said differences being that I was the first Anglophone child ever admitted to the Penssionnat du Saint Nom de Jesus et Marie, a prestigious private Francophone boarding/elementary school .. now called Externat Mont-Jésus-Marie) ... bullied in my own neighbourhood; since I didn't go to local school the neighbourhood kids saw me as an outsider ... and bullied at home by my younger sister.

By the time I was in grade 9 (an oft pivotal grade/age for a child), I was so tormented that the teachers at the English public school I was at (Mount Royal Catholic High School) got so tired of seeing me be put upon (after they [parents, teachers, principal] tried everything they could short of bringing in the police, which wasn't done back in the 70's) that they and the principal decided to opt for a radical and (to the best of my knowledge) singularly unique solution. I was called to the principal's office one morning.

That was the day I learned what "carte blanche" meant.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Count down to NaNoWriMo ...

NaNoWriMo begins November 1st and lasts until November 30th ... 30 days to write 50,000 words or a 1700-1800 words per day minimum.

This year, I have gathered a trio of buddies and we're all going to give it a go. I've had a rampant writer's block for years now and lacked any real drive to break through it. I'm considering using my LiveJournal as a place to post my day's writing ... it would allow me to bring it out of mothballs and put it to some use.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Shade of Grey ...

It is now a full day after Kara's surgery and I can finally think about blogging ... not that I have a lot to say, really. Everything since our arrival in Montreal has been a blur right up to yesterday, which is in sharp focus in my mind.

Jen and I were supposed to be there for 10am as Kara had been scheduled to be the second taken in for surgery ... that was changed to 8am without warning and we were given 10 minutes warning. There was no way we would be able to get from where we were staying to the surgical centre in that time and so I missed being there for her when she was being wheeled away like I wanted to. She claimed she was OK with that ... myself, not so much but what could I do?

We aimed to be at the centre for just after noon and then waited until almost two for her to be brought down from the recovery room to the floor her room was on (and where we were waiting). The wait seemed to drag on interminably ... I brought my iPad with the kindle app and it's loaded books and did my best to try to read. I more or less ended up staring at the same page and reading the same line over and over without comprehending what I was seeing.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Just keep breathing ... breathing ... breathing ...

The countdown is on and this time tomorrow I will be in Montreal with Kara. I'm kind of sad that Reg couldn't be there like she wanted to, neither her nor my finances saw fit to make it possible, but I am grateful that Jen could come so that there will be someone there with me on Wednesday to keep me from fretting myself sick while Kara's in surgery.

It's important to not let one's fears get the best of them so both Kara and I are doing our best to keep our imaginations and nerves under control and, for the most part, we're succeeding.

Kara really deserves a lot of credit ... from the coming off hormones (an experience not unlike menopause) to keeping herself busy so that her nerves don't get away from her. She had one angry day and one sad day and the rest of the time, she's been giddy. She has been fussing over me more and more as we get closer to tomorrow morning, which I think is her way of coping with the stress. And that's ok, cause it reassures me as well.

Gtg and pack ... 6am comes mighty early.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Finally getting it right ^_~

So, the other day, Kara and I were out and about when I felt an irritating tickle on my throat. Reaching up, I happened to capture a stray shed hair of mine. But, instead of just discarding it, there was something about this particular hair that caused me to stop and look at it closely. I had never seen a hair like this before ... it was remarkable in that the bottom 2/3s of the hair was my dark mousey brown colour while the upper 1/3 was a definite sparkly silver colour (or lack thereof, I suppose). Never before have I seen a hair which shows the exact point at which the hair follicle stopped producing melanin (the natural substance that gives us brunettes our dark colouration).

Now ... I can just picture the reactions of some of the womenfolk who may happen to read this (ranging from the "just have to accept it" frown, to the "oh gods, where's the dye?" frantic eye widen). And, ladies, you will have to forgive me as I laugh at you ... I have NEVER understood the fanatical dread that many females appear to allow themselves to give power to over the simple reality of aging. How much energy you waste trying to prevent the inevitable, instead of embracing it and allowing yourself to enjoy the ride.

Well, perhaps I can't honestly say never ... On the day of my 25th birthday, I did experience a moment where that quiet, observant archivist portion of my mind presented me with a mental timeline whereupon my birth was at one point and 100 was at the other and my age/birthday marked clearly at the quarter century point ... whereupon I did experience about 5-10 seconds of frantic terror and then I shrugged my shoulders and it was over and past.