There's a Meeting' Here Today

It’s sunny but it’s 4° outside. Summer seems so long ago. I’m relieved and surprised that time is passing so comfortably indoors.

Summer was four months of solid sunshine and I was constantly outdoors.

I dreaded the coming of this weather. I feared that without projects to do and without Darrell here, I might go nuts—more nuts—particularly as I seem disinclined to work in my studio. I seem to prefer a slow easy lifestyle. Each day is a couple of dog walks, a few errands, reading and occasional TV show. 

I don’t think I could have sustained this much solitude when I lived in Vancouver. Perhaps it’s the abundance of space. Maybe it’s because the gardens, buildings and pets give me so much to do. My pets are terribly engaging. Or it could be due to the change in my mental health. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. I’m just very happy leading the slow life here.

Last night was the third episode of season two of the Great Canadian Baking Show. I’ve known Andrei, the Star Baker of the first episode, for many years but had no idea he baked—and baked so superbly. It’s really fun watching, knowing a contestant.

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I don’t know if he was joking or telling the truth: I’d asked him what made him turn his back on the church.

“I didn’t quit it, I turned it to my advantage.”

“How’d you do that?”

“When I was a kid, my mother heard me praying for a bike and she explained to me that God didn’t work that way, so I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness.”

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I was looking forward to my meeting today with the Arts Council E.D., but not any more. I thought the meeting was about creating and implementing a long-term development (fundraising) strategy. But it’s not. It’s about fundraising for two upcoming events. They keep asking to get me involved in event -specific fundraising and I don’t like doing that kind of work unless it’s part of a master plan.

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Fred is a talker. He’s been that way since I got him. He’s prone to bursting into a series of loud meows and I think things got started when I started answering him. Soon, he’d meow just once and that would be it unless I responded. If I answered him, he’s meow again and loudly and he’d respond to me every time I spoke.

Fred’s meows sound like this: HEY YOU. BOY!

Now I’m also hearing single demure little meows that sound like this: Hello? Excuse me?

Ethel’s meows are almost mere vapor. But she, too, has learned how to get my attention. I get up and go to her with every sigh. She was silent for her first year. They all have me trained.

Sheba in the Woods

My Neighbourhood

Good morning sunshine! Tuesday began on a high.

We went to Drumbeg. Then I loafed. Then the clouds came in.

Next door, the septic tank and field were laid and covered. Now I know what a septic tank and field looks like and how they works. There was a bulldozer going back and forth a meter from my property line today until the early afternoon. I don’t mind the construction at all; I find it interesting and entertaining.

The walk to my postal box is, perhaps, fifteen minutes. I go with Sheba and I like it. On the lot where another home is being built, Marilyn and Ron have done an amazing job of turning all the trees, felled on their lot, into firewood. They’re firewood artists (see above).

I passed another neighbour with a huge lot riding on his lawnmower. We past Eddie, the Great Dane who’s recovering from surgery; he went to puppy school with Sheba and so they get very excited when they see each other.

Click to enlarge!

I took the trail through an empty lot I pass, to the edge of the bluff on which I live and I looked out at the majestic view my neighbours have of Georgia Straight. The Oregon Grape leaves are a beautiful red (see above).

One thing I love about the cool temperatures is having a fire. The cats love it; Sheba loves it and so do I. It’s also lovely to have so much wood on hand and to know that I only need to keep the fire low. It’s the nicest way to heat a house.

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This morning the stars are twinkling like mad. It’s was clear all night and got cold! Last night the house got quite cold so this morning I couldn’t light the fire fast enough. As the fire warmed the cabin, the clouds rolled in.

Her Highness and I will go on a community dog walk this morning and probably to Drumbeg later in the day.

I wrote an essay about fundraising and sent it to the Arts Council ED in advance of tomorrow’s meeting and told her she could: (1) Cancel the meeting and/or (2) Have a Valium for breakfast and/or (3) Use it as a point of departure for our meeting tomorrow.

I find myself unwilling to help with fundraising for any more events without a better understanding of the organization’s budget and operations. I want to have confidence in overall fiscal planning before I help raise funds on the long term as I did with PAL (for whom I raised a hundred grand).

Lazin' the Days Away

This morning the fog turned the forest air milky blue. Trees disappeared into the mist. I could feel it on my face. It wasn’t raining; the droplets floated in the air. The only raindrops come off drooping leaves.

We went on a community dog walk this morning then. Then, as usual, I headed into the day with no agenda. It’s a bit of a challenge to fill up the days when I’m disinclined to venture outside. (Yes, I know: In summer I endured having too much to do!)

I used to fill time in Fall and Winter undertaking time-consuming self-directed projects that involved writing and making things—costumes, mostly. People ask, “Why not do another one?” The answer is complicated.

I am reading The Imperfectionists.In it, a reporter goes to interview a woman who wrote an influential book in her youth but who now is dying. He pretends to be writing a profile of her but he’s the obituary writer. When he arrives, she explodes with dialogue:

“…Meanwhile, we panic about death, which we cannot ever experience. Yet it is this illogical fear that motivates our lives. We gore each other and mutilate ourselves for victory and fame, as if these might swindle mortality and extend us somehow Then, as death bears down, we agonize over how little we have achieved. My own life, for example, has been so inadequately realized. I will scarcely be recorded anywhere. Except of course in your eccentric newspaper. I won’t question why you’ve chosen me—thank God someone has! It extends the lease on my illusions.

“I say that ambition is absurd, and yet I remain in its thrall. It’s like being a slave all your life, and then learning one day that you never had a master, and returning to work all the same. Can you imagine a force in the universe greater than this? Not in my universe. You know, even from the earliest childhood it dominated me. I longed for achievements, to be influential—that, in particular. To sway people. This has been my religion: the belief that I deserve attention, that they are wrong not to listen, that those who dispute me are fools. Yet no matter what I achieve, the world lives on, impertinent, indifferent— know all this, but I can’t get it through my head…. Here is a fact: nothing in all civilization has been as ludicrous as ambition. Whatever its ills, nothing has created more. Cathedrals, sonatas, encyclopedias: love of God was not behind them, nor love of life. But the love of man to be worshipped by man.”

I love the sentence: “It extends the lease on my illusions.” 

I also love what she says about ambition.

Underpinning all my projects was a surety that they would be realized one way or another. I published my books myself or produced the plays myself.  The excerpt from The Imperfectionists  resonates because I have no ambition any longer—except to get through the day as pleasantly as possible. Professional ambition is folly to me now; projects are an expensive way to pass time.  

I have a meeting with the arts council about fundraising on Thursday. Some work for me may emerge from the meeting that gives me something practical and creative to do. (The last event had me build a cat palace.)

The voice of the character in The Imperfectionists  knows her days are numbered. I live conscious of that. That’s why I want to only do what brings me present pleasure.  

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Darrell says many more trees will come down next door. He thinks the initial clearing was just for the septic field. I was glad to hear his opinion as I’m hoping for even more light for my yard.

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I’m becoming very good at passing my days indoors. I read, dog walk, fire stoke, eat, web surf and once in a while watch TV. Mostly, I read. I’m fabulous at being lazy.

I’m going to join the library. I have never been a library user; I always bought my books. But I walk Sunday mornings with the head librarian and hope to tap her for great suggestions.