House Arrest

Going into the studio yesterday was inspiring. It’s so beautiful. The cork doors are on the water room now and the paper shelving is done. It’s not a studio now; it’s my studio. I’m over-the-moon impressed with Darrel’s work and how we’ve worked together to create so ideal a creative workplace.

I’m going to have a very long two-foot-wide counter behind my worktable and underneath the new east window. And I’ll have six shelves above it and on either side of the window for all my supplies and I can store bulk materials in bins under the counter.

I’ve done much more than I planned to do and spent more money than I expected to as well, but I’ve got a place that’s beyond-the-pale better than I ever dreamed of; I am thrilled with it.

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I’m going to run out of wood at the end of March. I’ll have burned four cords. I’m going to have to get six cords a year now that I have two stoves. That’s eighteen hundred bucks.

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Notice the emerging theme? The expression “bleeding money” comes to mind.

Diet Coke is exactly twice as expensive here as it was in the city. Limes are $1.00. And so very many things I have bought adjusting from tiny condo to half an acre and three buildings have come with hefty shipping costs.

It may mean I have to go with Plan B for the sunroom but I am fine with that. The sunroom is a bit of a folly whereas the studio is vital.

My rationale is simple: C-PTSD has had me in house arrest for almost two years. Dr. S. says the prognosis is that this condition will be ongoing, so if I am going to live the rest of my life in quarantine it’s going to be a nice prison.

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It’s Dwight’s birthday today. We’ll talk on Skype later. We Skyped last night too while he and Laura were having martinis. It was so, so nice to feel together with them and to chat with both of them and their daughter, Natalia. A good friend is a real privilege. 

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Last night I managed to stay awake until 9:00 pm. My sleep pattern really has nothing to do with Sheba. I think it’s just about being old plus my being a life-long early riser.

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I’m going to brag here: On Thursday I made absolutely world-class perfect and delicious vinaigrette. I’ve only ever mastered “acceptable” vinaigrette in the past but this batch is saintly. Paula even commented on it. (Uninvited by the way!)

Steve, my ex, made perfect vinaigrette every time. Now I can do it. It’s all about ratio and I can remember what I did. (I only measure the liquid ingredients.) Simple salad is one of my favourite things to eat: Lettuce, tomato, green onion (or red) and vinaigrette (with salt and pepper).  

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I’m still getting shivers of glee because Sheba’s housebroken and when I consider my blessings I am still not taking the surety of water for granted. (Getting my water system in order cost two and a half grand. There’s that theme again.)

Everyone asks how big she will get; two “formulae” seem to sum everything up. One theory is to double her weight at 4 months old. That’s her age now.

I’m more curious about her height. It’s said that most dogs will be at 75% of their final height at around 6 months old. If that’s correct she may be biggish, but not too big. I could care less about her size but I find myself hoping she’ll be big.

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I wrote about considering building a puppet theatre as my next project. I meant a marionette theatre. I’d forgotten the difference between the two.

I was surprised to learn the etymology of the name marionettes. “Marionette” means “little Mary” in French. I’d never realized that. Stringed puppets were used to tell bible stories to illiterate citizens long ago. Consequently, “marionette” came to be used as the name for all stringed puppets.

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Today will be just another day at Pinecone Park with Fred, Ethel, Sheba, the birds and the deer that come by regularly now that I feed them. I’ll prepare the garbage for collection on Monday and work on Mertz Manor.

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Today is the last day of my first quarter at Pinecone Park. I’ve been here exactly three months and I’m rather astounded by all I’ve accomplished and learned to be honest.

But now the pace has slowed. The flurry of initial visits is over and the pets and I are successfully merged as a family — an odd one, but one that works very well.

I take not a moment for granted. It seems every time my eyes change target I see something to be grateful for — especially my pets.

Right now all the sky I can see is pink and purple. I see the colour behind the black silhouettes of huge Fir trees. And I this perfect warm and cozy log home with a studio and a hot tub and a massive yard/garden. I’m feckin’ giddy all the time, folks.

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PS: Regarding the birds I’ve been thrilled to see two golden Thrushes coming every day. They’re quite big and not intimidated by the Jays. I now see Thrushes, Jays, Woodpeckers, Flickers, Chickadees, Towhees and Sparrows regularly. I hear the Ravens and Turkeys but I don’t often see them.

Decisions Made

Thursday night I was so tired I wanted to go to bed at six o’clock. I’ve no idea why. I managed to stay awake for a while but I was dead to the world by 7:30. Consequently, Sheba woke me to go out at 3:00 am.

The house was cold. The fire had long gone out so instead of going back to bed, I was out in the woodshed fetching some nice pitchy wood to get a roaring fire going.

Thank God I don’t have a job.

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Thursday morning I woke with a decisive mind: I found myself inclined to an opinion concerning two decisions I face in my future. I’ve been under no pressure to make these decisions soon or anything; I knew they’d be comfortably made sooner or later. I had to decide when and for how often to reduce my visits to Dr. Shoja and what my next creative project will be.

I’m going to reduce my visits to Dr. S. to once a month.

The only part of my life I don’t like is going for therapy at the hospital. It’s not the therapy I dislike; I hate leaving home and going to Vancouver. I want to stop seeing Dr. S. but I’m scared to.

She’s helped me make sense of a very sudden and dramatic change in my personality. I can see her as often as I want; she’s consistently said so since my move here but I’ve been going almost two years.  

I have the studio now and three pets that I love off-the-scale and the deer and birds. Plus, I live in utter tranquility. I find today and every day here to be ideal. I’m in a constant state of bliss and there can be no better therapy than that.

As for my next project: I’m going to christen my studio by building a puppet theatre. I am very excited about this idea!

I built a real theatre and it launched my career and I just built Mertz Manor and loved that process. I want to build a big theatre. And then think of a story for which I can build the puppets. Then I’ll write the story last, just as I did with my Defiant Dress project.

It could be for kids. Or maybe I’ll do something for adults — something akin to what Isabella Rossellini did with Green Porn. I love that woman. In response to a commission from the Sundance Channel, she created a series of short films about the mating rituals and reproductive behaviour of various animals. In each film she acts out what is described in concurrent commentary. (She studied animal behavior at Hunter College in New York State.)

Jay and Patsy both have fabulous voices and Patsy is an actor. You never know.

It’s just an idea… but I like it.

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When Darrell came yesterday morning, he brought be some frozen smoked salmon. How sweet is that? And he’s working on an estimate for the sunroom, which I appreciate. I want to build something I can afford. I have a Plan B: Making it half as big. I could truly be very happy with even that. One way or another I am getting a sunroom.

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As a huge vote of confidence in Sheba, I bought a new living room rug. She hasn’t pooped or peed in the house for two weeks so I think it’s safe to proceed with the new rug. The outgoing one — the one found in the crawl space under the cabin — is just too full of Sheba DNA and cleaning stains to be kept. Besides, it won’t be here for a month so by then it’s certain to be safe.

Tower of Song

Darrell was here for a short while yesterday. He put the stove in place in the studio and then went home to build the doors for the water room in his workshop; they’ll go up later today. They’ll be additional corkboards for me to use. It feels super good to see progress in the studio again. I’m due to hear about the arrival date of the tiles today.

And thank God! There is absolutely nothing in the weather forecast for the next week but rain; the next two months are the worst for weather in this part of the world but I will be oblivious as I set up my studio and get to work on projects and my huge new worktable.

I did almost nothing and nothing is exactly what I wanted to do. I did tote a lot of kindling into the wood closet but mostly I played with the pets. I wasted a ton of time visiting my favourite websites and blogs. But I did hear from Paula T., a theatre friend from way back who’s bought a place here. She’s going to come for lunch today.

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I was very lucky last night. I happened to catch most of the ibute concert for Leonard Cohen on the CBC called Tower of Song. I loved it. Well not all of it. I’ve never been a fan of Elvis Costello. He did two songs and one was absolutely amazing but the other was caterwauling to me. Lana Del was there too; she’s the dullest entertainer since Peggy Lee (but Peggy had an interesting voice). And the ego called Sting made noise.

But Adam Cohen was brilliant. What a guy. And K. D. Lang. She still has her voice. She is still as pure as sunlight and my God, what a woman. She, of course, sang Hallelujah but a different arrangement that was simply spectacular. And Damien Rice — an Irish singer I had never heard of — was mesmerizing, as was the incredible Jewish choir. The choir was a highlight of the concert.

It was a wonderful telecast and the best part was the lack of a host. Names were projected onto screens and the absence of a host seemed apt for a concert about a man who’s no longer with us. Instead, he was there. He was the host and the producers chose wonderful clips to introduce songs and add to our audience experience.

What I saw and heard will stay with me for a long time.

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I’m actually doing something community-ish. I’m going as a guest to a Gabriola Community Arts Council fundraising event meeting on January 11th. I’ve been invited because the executive director likes an idea I suggested.

I’m looking forward to going and contributing. I’m doing my usual thing: I’m taking a written proposal for them — not in hopes of convincing them but in order to minimize my talking. I’m putting as much as I can about how the idea might work for them into a point-form list.

I like fundraising and from perusing their materials, I think I have lots to offer for them to consider — as much about their image and social positioning as about fundraising.