Boxing Day

There’s nothing like a bleak tale of serial murder, revenge and infidelity on Christmas day—especially told in a stark Scandinavian minimalist style with every scene filmed on a cold grey day. Not exactly baby Jesus kind of stuff, but I spent Christmas day watching all ten hours of The Bridge on Netflix. Then I had a fabulous dinner with John & Bunny in the evening.

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I wrote about the fire alarm going off at 3:30 am on Christmas morning. I stayed in my suite but found out I was expected to vacate later in the day. There really was a fire and I assumed it was yet another false alarm. It was in one suite and started due to some disaster with popcorn.

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I adore these comments appended to an article about the Great British Baking Show:

When approving of a meal, my husband and I now nod to each other and say “good bake.” When disapproving, we turn to each other and say: “I wouldn’t eat that, Mary.”

~ vangoghsear

It is a hug wrapped in choux pastry, and a second of it is more soothing than an hour of meditation.

~ Bashington

The puns and innuendo are charmingly, horrendously, lovely: “There are two ways to make a Swiss roll. The first is to push Roger Federer down a hill.”

~ Somethingisme

This retro poster is of a landmark (now in ruin)
at the beach I visited most often whilst living
in Nice in 1974/75—the best time of my life.

Sea slug.

An Early Start to Christmas

There's a glorious full moon shining through my window this Christmas morning. It's 3:30 am and I am curious about the people I see going into the 711 store at this time of this particular morning and, of course, the streets are surprisingly busy—mostly with cabs, but also with the sirens and fire engines that are attending to our building.

That is why I am awake. The fire alarm woke everyone in out building and freaked out our pets with hits high-pitched alarm broadcast into every condo.

It's going to be a long day.

Regardless of how divorced I feel from the concept of family and that my childhood Christmases were burnt soufflés, the day brings focus to life. I can understand why two-day-a-year Christians go to church today. As with New Year's, today inspires reflection falling, as it does, at the end of the year. And one looks forward, too, and I like that nature of the day.

Holidays

Another day “without” love.

“I love you.” The first person I said that to was Lynn Willingdon, my classmate in grade six at Ridgeview Elementary School in West Vancouver. We were in grade six; it was 1957 and the words came out of my mouth uncensored and unexpected. I had, until then, never said those words to either of my parents, nor had I ever felt the emotion for them.

I believed I loved Lynn. It was the first time I had felt the longed-for emotion that I so longed to feel. That’s why I remember it so well.

I did really feel love/deep trust again until sometime around the turn of the century when I was in India travelling with Steve. He and I had been partners for fourteen years and apart for almost a decade when he came to visit me in India. And one day as he walked down to the beach from our cabin in the sunshine I felt it again. I will never forget that moment either. I am grateful for those moments now.

I believe the loveless trustless life I lived with my parents set the course of my love life. I don’t “blame” them for the largely loveless life I have lived. I see our past as the way it was, that’s all. They were well into their story when they adopted me, living their destinies.

But I have always found in my past an explanation for my present and I have never lost a sense that life would have been easier with a co-pilot.

Now I cannot imagine life with someone. Instead I emotionally feast on the platonic loves and the glorious sensate thrills of my life.

My hometown taken from up Grouse Mountain
where I spent a lot of time as a kid. 

Solar wind.