November 15th to 11th

Posted on 15 November 2003


This morning I was up at six helping Gill set up her garage sale. I helped until her friend arrived at nine. Since this time, I have been working in my little house completing my story for the CBC contest.

I am just leaving to mail it, ready or not. I must admit that I feel a little virtuous. I now have four pieces out in the world.

If only one finds a home, I will be happy.

The rest of day, I will keep veiled until tomorrow.

I went to the store early thinking I’d be out by early afternoon but one job led to another and before I knew it my day was shot. No time for writing or editing further.

I did finish my Irish story at 10:30 last night – after tapping for an hour. And although I know it ain’t perfect, it’s complete. One final edit tonight and out it goes – gulp – without help from my editing friends who always catch me on a verb or two.

Do even good published famous writers screw up on the simple things such as verb tense? It would be a relief to know they do.

I’ve just sent Mike out for a pizza. Gill is out. Rob is working so I should be able to put in a few hours – if I can keep my head up.

How do I feel? Drowsy. Tired beyond belief but I think I can edit. I think I can. I think I…

I feel reluctant about writing my blog lately. I think perhaps I am exposing too much of myself.

Last night I had the strangest dream. In one part, a piece of my face drops off – but the piece doesn’t look like skin. It resembles a white plaster cast. The same thing happens to a woman standing beside me. We aren’t hurt or in pain. We simply accept the dropping away as normal.

I am still working madly at my Irish story but fear it lacks focus other than highlighting in areas, the emphasis on religion in Northern Ireland.

I am still working on spring orders for the store. I can’t seem to spend enough money.

Soon Helen will pick me up and we’re going with Kathy, seamstress extraordinaire, to India town to find silks and brocades for purses for the store.

After, I’ll hopefully have time for some more writing before I tap my way into the evening.

I am in a foul mood today.

This morning I reluctantly signed a slip for Gill to go on the Grad ski trip. I didn’t want to sign for several reasons. First of all, the company organizing the event requires all the money now (the event is in January) plus a $25 damage deposit in case any member of the grad class commits an act of vandalism. Once you sign and pay, that’s it – no refund – not even illness or death is a good enough excuse. Secondly, the company accepts no responsibility for accidents – minor or major or fatal – even if they are the negligent party.

But Gill is anxious to go. She listens to my objections and tries to soothe me but she wants to go. And so I, loving her and not wanting to disappoint her, dutifully albeit angrily fill out the forms and sign the cheques, feeling all the while like a bad mother. I tell myself that Gill is seventeen, mature for her age, responsible, as are her friends. But what about the rest of her class? But I sign and that’s it. Cloud descends. I will not rest easy until she is safely home.

In a more positive vein, Helen did “body talk” on me last night. I don’t really understand what the tapping and touching can do but I am obedient, lie flat, place my hands where she tells me and hope that some magic is at work, that I will learn to care for my physical being more.

Yesterday, Kate’s live journal informed me that the CBC contest deadline is fast approaching. For some reason, I thought it was early December. When I checked their website, I found out that the submission deadline is indeed November 15th and furthermore, they have cut their non-fiction category except for travel writing. What I planned to send won’t work. The only piece I have on hand is my Irish story but it’s not nearly long enough. This morning I tried to expand it to the required word count but don’t know if I can do it. And a little negative voice in my head keeps saying, “Why bother. You don’t have a hope in hell of winning.” But I may as well give it a shot.

To work.

I have been so religious about writing this blog that I can’t bear to miss a day. But I’ve been writing all morning – finished one story – or almost – and want to work on another so I don’t feel inclined to unburden myself here.

What is happening to me? I have energy. Ideas are flowing.

Last night, I attended another Jungian meeting at Marlene’s. We were discussing the longest chapter in the book. There was so much to take in that I was overwhelmed. I did write – about food amongst other things – and I realized that I haven’t cooked a real meal since Thanksgiving. This made me feel “creepy” at first. I thought myself a failure. But buried amongst my ramblings about eating were the lines “I’ve prepared food for too many years. I’m bored. I have no desire to cook. Gill, Mike, and Rob have been making the meals.”

Afterwards I thought, “Why not. They are as capable as I am in the kitchen. And it’s more difficult to please everyone these days as Gill doesn’t like carbohydrates and Rob is limiting himself.”

I do not have to express my love for my family through food. I am so relieved.

I gained other insights last night as well. But I’m still sifting through them. I am a work in progress.

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