me & my girl

more bed side sweet peas

Yesterday was a hot and sultry perfect summer day in this little seaside village. 28C and barely a whiff of wind. I finally finished up my 18 drawing - frame collection, which turned out beautifully - better even than I had expected. I sent a lovely big fat invoice out into the ether, tidied up my desk and put on my bathing suit and my fav beach cover up dress, I rolled up a towel and put it and a bottle of water in my straw bag and off we went, Miss D and I, ... to the beach.

The little beach that's in the village, a short walk away from 29 Black Street, and at the end of our walk in the park. The same beach that we walk to every early evening. I waded around in knee deep water while Winnie Dixon trailed along behind me, following my every step. The water here in summer is lovely and warm although still very refreshing on a hot, sweltering summer day and the air at the water's edge is always just a little bit cooler. Finally getting myself completely totally submerged, including wet hair and face, I floated around in the shallow water with the hot sun beating down on us, the only sounds we could hear were the sounds of seagulls and children playing underwater swimming games nearby. I didn't want to wade out so deep that Winn would have to swim as she becomes a little frantic and worried when I wade out into deeper water, so we stayed close to shore.

It was just heavenly and just what the Dr. ordered. Sun, heat, salt water - and all with the company of my best girl friend.


my girl Miss D. - she loves to bask in the sun

She and I sat on the beach, both basking in the sun, and time just floated away from us. Another dip, lots more basking. Lots of love and pats and scratches for Miss Winn, around her head and neck. And then we walked home, back through the park. I was surprised when I glanced at the clock in the kitchen when we walked in the door, we'd been gone 2 hours. Miss D and I, just a hangin' at the beach, sitting on our big rock a baskin', wading and floating around in the warm water ... just me and my girl. Perfection (well nearly).

I washed out my bathing suit and hung it on the line. Poured a big glass of ginger ale with ice and I ate perfect plain potato chips for my dinner while watching the Olympics. A perfect end to a very productive week.

I have another 2 day project which I'm beginning today. I also have many chores that must be done also. So today and tomorrow I'll try to fit half a day at the teak topped desk and half a day taking care of some of my to-do's and must do's. I'll be out in the garden awhile and whirling that vacuum cleaner around, I'll wash bedding and hang it out on the line, and I'll prepare big vats of curry lentil soup and vegetarian chili, food to freeze and have on hand so that when I'm busy with work I won't have to think about cooking (and I'll be less likely to have potato chips for my dinner. Wink.)

Such is the life of a freelance designer. You work whenever there is work, and lately, thankfully, there's been a ton of work. Although I have to say, once again, what I do, never ever feels like work.

Thank you universe.

retrievers

Em & Jake (a tiny speck of red near the horizon)- retriever heaven

In the night of death, hope sees a star,
and listening love can hear the rustling of a wing.

Robert Ingersoll

or in my case ... listening love can hear the splash of paws ...
racing into the water to fetch that stick.

If only I could have one wish ...


Happy tired dogs - Em & Jake

specimens No.1

a tiny Jonah Crab and an Atlantic Rock Crab

I could have easily (except maybe for the physics, chemistry & math part) been a marine biologist. I am totally fascinated by sea creatures of all types and sizes. Perfectly fitting, I guess, that I've been sloshing around in my rubber footwear avec les chiens (the absolute best beach combing companions ever) through many a tide pool for nearly 15 years now. I always walk with my head down collecting beach glass, bright yellow and orange tiny periwinkle shells, the occasional dogfish egg case or mermaids purse, examining unusual rocks and larger shells. Wading through shallow tide pools and crouching down to watch hermit crabs racing across underwater deserts to retreat in the shade of clumps of seaweed. The most exciting things I've found in 15 years of beach combing were a large ocean centipede about 10 inches long and a washed up oarfish (a petite sea monster) about a metre long.

I'm always amazed to come across some tiny little body, completely intact, of one of our Atlantic shoreline species of crab. Dead for awhile and completely dried out and preserved - it's shell sometimes bleached by the sun and salt.

Things are a mess here at 29 Black Street. Messy house, messy office, messy desk. That's what happens when things are busy, everything else falls by the way side. Another two day project on the heels of this one, then working on my Etsy shop art prints and my submissions Sept 15th and Oct 13th of greeting card designs to Great Arrow (a goal that's been on my list of goals for seven years and one that surely will help me in my quest of building my own creative empire). These are the times when I wish I had a tiny little life. A tiny little house and a tiny little yard and garden. Something easy to take care of and easy to maintain, when my main job at hand is bringing home the bacon.

11:00 A mouse in the house, well actually a mouse in the left hand top drawer of the teak topped desk. Not sure how he/she got there but my job immediately became to rescue the little mouse from the drawer and take he/she outside. Turns out not at all an easy task and at the end of it all the little mouse, freaked out at my attempts to lure/push him into a clean aluminum can (or safe tunnel place), jumped out of the drawer onto my sleeve and up the arm of my hooded sweatshirt and down into the hood. Thinking quickly I removed the my sweatshirt, closed up the hood and took sweet little, heart a beating, mouse outside and into the grass and safely away from the big game, tag team, hunters and mouse killers extraordinaire - Gus & Oliver. Mouse messenger animal totem.

thank goodness

brand new gouache paint set and a new No. 4 brush

It's cool here this morning. I'm not sure if it's the remnants of Fay finally reaching our shores or if it's some weather system from Ontario or perhaps the meeting of the two but it's supposed to be very cold here today. Not cool but cold. Close the windows cold. Then by the weekend the temperature will shoot back up to 29 C which is hot and almost as high as it gets here. Sunny and summery weather from the beginning of the weekend on and if you are a summery sunny person (remember I'm a little dark rain cloud with some thunder thrown in) that will be a huge relief. Our August the weather has been tres shitty as summery and sunny goes. Rain and rain and more rain. Lots of overcast skies with dark stormy clouds and thunder storms - maybe that's why mood has been lifted lately. It's not the kind of weather they want to have, here at the seaside. And the bad weather is an ongoing hot topic of conversation. We Canadians we are famous for our love of the weather chat and complaining chat the best and always most favourite.

My Etsy store art card component bits and pieces (envelopes and cellophane sleeves etc.) continue to arrive. It's the first time curse. Once I have this initial shop update done, reordering all these bits and pieces and adding to my collection of photo and illustration, sweet, matted print cards, should be a cinch. It's all this first time care and detail and an awful lot of measuring (a personal handicap of mine) that's been bogging me down. But they are still coming and still being worked on.

And I've had tons of paying design work on the teak topped desk which has kept me very busy these last few weeks. I'm at my desk through the day and into the evenings. Stopping to do the dishes, feed the beasts, and to walk with Miss Dixon down into the park each early evening.

Thank goodness for live streaming of Olympic coverage on CBC.ca, for bubbles with lavender and orange, and orange pekoe tea with lots of milk & sweet perfect clementines.

And of course for my Sugar Beet - Miss Winnie Dixon.

8:50 am - Three Harrier Hawks swooping and flying low in the pastures where we walk this early morning. Spectacular large rusty brown birds with a distinctive white stripe on their tail. The hawk totem means messenger.

happy tired dogs

Sugar Beet & Baby Duke in the throngs of round 1

Well that Miss D, she's surprised us all. I had no doubts that Winnie would like Baby Duke 'cause Winnie is a dog's dog. She had an unfortunate beginning in life and was not socialized at all with people. One of those poor dogs, we're quite sure, that lived her life at the end of a short rope or chain, tied outside. She was surrendered to a shelter when she was just shy of a year old. My friend Jean, from this local shelter said she was one of the worst cases of fear that she's ever seen. Her previous name was Princess (Princess Winnie Poo Poo from some speck of an atoll in the South Pacific). Jean asked if I would foster Winnie because she was very concerned that Winnie was so frightened, so freaked out by being at the shelter that she was going down hill at a rapid rate. I picked her up one Saturday morning years ago, Em & Jake welcomed her with open paws and giant retriever hearts and Princess Winnie was flinging teddy bears around and grinning ear to ear that same afternoon. It was Em & Jake, I'm convinced, that made Winnie feel safe and at home here.

She loves the girls that we walk with and now seeks out and requests their love and pats and scratches several times each early morning. But she mistrusts and won't go near anyone else. If I have company (which is a very rare event here at 29 Black Street) she skulks from room to room, from dog bed to dog bed, avoiding even the slightest eye contact with whoever (evil demon) might be here. If those same girls that she loves in the morning arrived at my door she behaves like she doesn't recognize them and insists (by barking her scraggly face off) that they go away now. As far as she's concerned they can't come in her house.

But she loves other dogs. And she sure is sweet on that Baby Duke dog. They have at least three rounds of this flat out running and tumbling and chasing, gnashing and bumping and rolling until their tongues are hanging out and their eyes are sparkling with pure, happy, dog delight each morning.

It's so good for Winnie. It's the best kind of exercise a dog can get. That perfect combination of flat out physical aerobic exercise combined with the incredible mental stimulation of doing something that they love. In this case planning their fancy footwork or their next tricky move. And my Miss D. she's got the moves, she loves to spin and twirl. For my boy Jake, his thrill was endlessly retrieving 2 or 3 (sometimes even 4) sticks, at the same time, from deep water, never ever 1 stick - that was boring Jake loved the multi-stick challenge. Planning his strategy as he swam around collecting his sticks. Which one would he gather first? No question he was put on this earth to retrieve things from water- he loved it so. And our Miss Maggie Sue, well she prefers to retrieve large round rocks, the occasional stick does add a little spice to her morning routine, but her true love is scuba retrieving - plunging her head under water, holding her breath for awe inspiring and (we're sure) record breaking times while using her front paws to gather submerged items, rocks, perfect white clam shells, etc... and she swims lengths back and forth parallel to the shore in between scuba events.

When we arrive home, these recent mornings, Winnie's been skipping sleeping in her dog bed under the teak topped desk and preferring to immediately hop up on my bed or the guest bed where she can completely stretch out and snooze contentedly.

She's a happy tired dog. Smile.




Maggy Sue joins in the play fray, taking a very brief break from her scuba duties

beetroot

Sweet sugar beet (or sweet beetroot if I were a Kiwi) and moi

Crickets, a full moon and the silent sound of no wind at all.
A hot mug of delicious coffee.
A steaming hot thick facecloth with almond soap.
A list of to-dos and must-dos for today that I'm looking forward to.
An optimistic front that's settled in for a few days.
Sleeping well wrapped up in a duvet that smells of outdoors.
And Oliver sleeping tucked in beside me (always) my calico comfort.
Sweet sugar beet and I sitting together each evening on a big flat rock
looking out to sea and smiling ... at each other.

filing

farmers market sugar beets

Sugar beet also my new name for Miss Dixon - she is my sweet, sweet sugar beet.

Squawking cries of blue herons, a soft chorus of crickets and the barely audible rumblings of thunder far off in the distance are the sounds coming in my open windows this early morning. No wind at all. Yesterday it rained and rained, coming down at times in sheets of grey wetness.

Around noon and before the rain had begun I thought I'd best whip La Beast Rouge around one half of my yard. I released her from her home in the newly immaculate and tidy garden shed, added more motor oil, topped up her gas receptacle with premium super plus gasoline, primed her, yanked on that damn cord and her engine starting with a flurry only to very quickly sputter dead. I repeatedly yanked on the rip cord (or whatever you call that cord) ... same results every time. Big, huge, %!!#$?? sigh. These are the situations that happen in the life of a single designer gal with a big huge old house and even bigger overgrown yard and garden that nearly push her over the edge. When things don't work, when little things go wrong - my initial reaction is to lie down in the grass and stare up at, what was yesterday an overcast and grey sky, and stay lying there until someone comes and finds me. Then it occurs to me that I could be there an awfully long time. So instead I take a deep breath, gently push her back into her home dans la shed and make a mental note to put her in the car, in the back of the wagon Sunday night so I can drop her off at the small engine repair on our way home from our beach walk early Monday morning. Erggghhh.

I filed yesterday. Purged paper, organized and filed all my files. Since moving into my new office and receiving from BFF Harry, a beautiful, practically brand new, four drawer legal size filing cabinet - the kind with built in rails for hanging file folders - be still my beating heart, I had yet to deal with all of my files. 7 years of self employed work files, reference material, home and personal stuff - one of those jobs that many of us will endlessly put off. And one of those jobs that when done and done well provides enormous & unexpectedly thrilling satisfaction.

There is nothing worse (to me) than thinking I wonder where ____ is ??? I could really use ____ in order to do a good job at the current project on the teak topped desk. Now I can ask ... Hmmmm Susan - I wonder where the Christmas themed photo ornament file would be ?? Easy !! Une moment Madam - that could be found in Drawer No 2 (that entire drawer being customer No Uno) and toward the back. Sigh.

Today it's draw draw, draw. Finished drawings of all those tiny frame thumbnails while listening and occasionally watching the Olympics.

The finches are up and having a breakfast meeting in the back garden - is there a happier sound than the sound of sweet little finches chattering away ?

act 2, scene 3

an illustration for a fashion-ey logo/business card that I've been working on

This blog has been a lot about dogs and cats, about big skies and glittering water, about longing and sadness and big, huge, heartbreaking love and not much at all about a designer gal's life in a tiny seaside village. It's that heart on my sleeve thing again - my heart eclipses all else ...

So today a little update from the teak topped desk of designer gal. Wink.
Earlier in the week I called customer No Uno to see if I could drum up a project.

Me: Hi ! just wondering if you have any projects a brewing for me to work on
Customer No Uno: Hmmm, let me see ... how about some very traditional Christian, religious themed photo frames - a collection
Me: 10-4

Camera pans across a very messy teak topped desk complete with a gigantic & beautiful 24" imac. The designer sits madly drawing with a mechanical pencil on tracing paper, kneaded eraser and fine black drawing pens nearby. She's drawing tiny little miniature frames some with oval openings, lots of ornate crosses and doves and hearts with words like Faith and Love and Rejoice. Handwritten script spells out biblical quotes she's researched online. She then scans four little pages of tracing paper, each crammed with miniature drawn concepts, attaches them to an email and then she waits ... and waits with bated breath.

It's anybodies guess with this particular company how things will fly. Often I send out pages of drawings that make my heart swell with pride - I love them so and they barely look at them ... dismissing them with a swoop of hands. Other times I think to myself Oh no, No 7 on page 4 is tres ugly, don't like it, I hate to even leave it with all those other good ideas, it's ugliness surely spreading around the page. But I leave it (always) ... just in case. Sure enough they love No 7. It's their favourite. I've been working with customer No Uno and the same woman for nearly 7 years ... and it's feels like a crap shoot every single time.

End of day Friday the phone rings

Customer No Uno : Good job Susan, lets go over these thumbnails
Me: Sure ! heart beating a little faster and still with bated breath
Customer No Uno: OK Page 1 - this one, and this and this one and Page 2 - we love this and that and this one too. Page 3 - draw them all !! Page 4 - this one and that. Great job.
Me: Excellent !! Merci Madam !! and to myself 1, 2, 3, 4 ..... 18 frames total.

Designer gal hangs up the phone and immediately gets out her calculator - 18 x per frame final drawing rate - click, click, click ... click, click ... cha-ching, cha-ching !!!

Me: to myself Good Job !!

Don't get me wrong, it's not all about the money - I absolutely LOVE what I do, and it never seems like work. It's just that money = security (not to mention - vines trimmed, trees chopped, mortar pointed, chimneys swept, wood ordered, plumbers paid and kitty litter bought) ... and Mama's gonna sleep tight another night. Sigh.

pack of 3

retriever heaven - sweet Emma Jane Louise and my handsome red boy Jake

Hope is like a bird that senses dawn
and carefully starts to sing while it is still dark.
author unknown

A fitting quote as I sit here most mornings anticipating dawn myself. This morning the air has a cool autumn feel, it's the feeling of bittersweet. My cozy chenille house coat is snugged in around me like I'm wrapped up in a teddy bear. It's been raining and the breeze blowing in my open windows is pushing the curtains up and into the room. It's dead quiet, the birds aren't even up yet, only the sounds of leaves and wind and Miss Dixon's soft snoring.

Last night I sat at my computer and watched and listened to little video clips on my mac's imovie program. My camera, like most digital cameras, lets you shoot short videos and thankfully I shot quite a few. Choppy, bumpy, very rough tiny movies with sound, most less than a minute long, of me and my pack of three dogs. Em, Jake & Winnie. My loves. Watching them run and swim and sniff and roll in the grass and running up to me with big smiles on their faces and tails wagging madly. Hearing their breath and listening to my voice speaking to them ... constantly. I'd forgotten about these little movies and watching them made my heart burst.

My favourite photo .... a repeat.


my pack of 3 ... my loves

la queen

Lulu - the Queen of it all

Lulu had an episode (don't know what else to call it) with her back legs early this morning. She's my very old (close to 18) matriarch, extremely bossy & loud, and also really affectionate, fearless and loving long haired black and white cat. She came packed in an airplane kennel, along with her companion and nemesis cat Ernst (all other animals are nemisis' to Lulu for she rules all) some 15 years ago from Toronto, with me when I moved here to this little seaside village and to this old brick fixer-upper - 29 Black Street.


Toronto- tres flattering scratchy Polaroid of moi with young Ernst & Lulu

Her back legs just fetched up on her, she didn't seem at all in pain. Just pissed off a bit that her back legs were not co-operating as she attempted to come up on the bed with me and my 4am (that's another story) coffee. Her scrawny little back legs pointed out in front of her like a ballerina as she sat on the bed with me and I massaged them - she loves that. She seems OK now, but lately I have been thinking to myself, chances are I'm going to lose another of my pack this year. That would be 4 much loved pets in 4 years. First dear Ernst (rare dwarf Alberta cougar tabby cat), then sweet Emma Jane - my golden girl, and this January Jake , the love of my life and hero dog. All senior animals - I do take comfort in that, that they all lived to the far end of their life expectancy Ernst 14, Emma 15.5 and Jake just passed 13 and now that crazy Lulu, squawkamolé of mine - she's pushin' 18.

Summer is her favourite time. She goes out on the front porch each early morn as soon as I feel sure that the raccoons and foxes have gone home to bed (although I know she would give them a run for their money) and she stays out there, in her kingdom, all day. Snoozing in various spots around the front garden or in her wicker chair with the pillow. She has all her meals outside with lots of fresh water. She sits sometimes on the porch windowsill and screams at me through the screened window when I come downstairs from my office to get a bite to eat or to make a cup of tea. She yells in her grating, loud squawking voice and in her defense, what she really wants, is just to get my attention. For me stop what I'm doing, to come outside and sit in the wicker chair awhile and just hang with her - and I don't do that enough. She delights, still, in putting the run to any stray or neighbourhood cat that dares to venture into her domain. She is tough as nails and her days seem very full and rich with constant feline adventures.

I am prepared to lose another of my family. She's very old. The part that I cannot stand and I never will is the deciding to end their life part. The euthanasia part - no matter how I may know in my brain that a time will come when it's the kind and right thing to do. My heart breaks at the thought of it and my heart will be forever haunted by those moments.

I'll be sure to sit awhile today with Miss Lulu Belle today, out on our porch in the white wicker chair.


big fat Nessie (Bleet) and the Lulu Belle - hangin' on their porch


the queen and top dog (always) at 29 Black Street

Actually I just went downstairs at Winnie's insistence. She was enthusiastically letting me know (barking hysterically) that one of the neighbourhood stray cats had arrived on the porch for some breakfast. When I went down into the kitchen Lulu was sitting on the kitchen table. Now in order to get to this spot on the kitchen table she had to jump up on an arm chair and leap (a death defying feat she performs several times each day just for the hell of it) nearly three feet from another table ... I guess she's feeling better. Thank goodness.

sihouettes

big beautiful sky silhouetted against our early morning heavenly walk

The night was filled with heavy rain, thunder and lightening flashes and the breeze blowing in our open windows this morning is cool. The sky over our harbour is dark and grey, black with clouds filled with more rain. It feels like September and melancholy hangs thick and heavy in this air.

Sorrow fully accepted brings it's own gifts.
For there is alchemy in sorrow.
It can be transmuted into wisdom,
which, if it does not bring joy,
can yet bring happiness

Pearl S. Buck

oh yeah sure Pearl. Wink.

I do believe this to be true and I'm just waitin' on the transmutation ... any day now.

Thank you blog friends and blogland for continually lifting me up and constantly inspiring me.

hope & love

Me and my girl - Miss Winnie Dixon

I may have misplaced my hope ... but I sure haven't lost my love.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends.

Corinthians 13:4-7

And Pamela and Edward left this poem for me yesterday. Makes me cry to read these words. But all these tears, they must come out.

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson

in a different light

sweet peas again, in a different light

The second lobster fishing season has begun here in our little seaside village, So this morning through the inky blackness outside my open studio/office windows come the sounds of lobster boats trailing out of the harbour and into the Strait. Lulu's on my lap, Winnie's still in bed, Bleet's been out for ages, outside roaming with the raccoons in darkness and Gussie & Oliver having just had their breakfast and have begun stretching and warming up for their daily, early morning high speed kitten racing, thumping and crashing event.

I'm sipping my coffee, here at my desk, from my favourite big Starbuck's mug, my bath of orange and lemon bubbles with a few drops of patchouli oil (sure to chase the blues away) is pouring. I'm getting a good start, no dilly dallying this morning. One foot in front of the other, another brand new and fresh week spread out in front of me. 20 days left in this month of August, and 20 days to try and turn this around ... to try and see my life in a different light.

I've lost my hope. I really think that's what it is. I've left it outside somewhere in that overgrown jungle of yard and garden of mine, I put it down for a second, distracted by something (my epitaph will say) and walked away. I forgot to paint the handles bright red or orange so that I could find it again in the tall grass. Now I need to hunt for it and I just haven't had the energy to hunt.

sweet pea

sweet peas - my most favourite flower in the garden

Polaroid loveliness (if I do say so myself). These three images, all taken yesterday, during an impromptu (there's that word again) mad photography shoot using both cameras and a big patch of sunlight falling on a deep white windowsill in my guest room/photo studio.

Thank you for all the sweet & oh so flattering comments regarding my photography. They certainly were a big bright spot in my day yesterday. One of those days, all too typical for me, where I start out feeling practically invincible and very quickly begin to crumble into overwhelmed frailness - where it feels like I just can't cope with much of the life that I have. I begin to feel helpless & hopeless - a very bad combination. It's this house and yard mostly, the maintenance and upkeep of or lack there of. I honestly go outside to begin ... something ... garden gloves and bug spray on and almost instantly wish that I knew how to drive a bulldozer and had one parked in the driveway or that I wasn't very afraid of chainsaws. My yard is so large, so overgrown, and so out of control ... lush, I guess you could call it.

It's funny how negative emotions seem to breed more negative emotions. It's like that snowball rolling down a steep and snowy hill becoming larger and larger. Overwhelmed and hopeless feelings quickly join up with sadness and loneliness, which leads down that gravel road to self pity (the ugliest surely, of the negative emotions) and yet again I'm trying to buoy myself up, treading water endlessly, reaching for that same old bag of tricks (deep breathing, positive visualization, happy affirmations, tap dancing as fast as I can). I get so tired of buoying and tap dancing ... this too will pass I remind myself... and I know, unfortunately, it will be back.

Another big bright spot in my day yesterday, aside from all your lovely comments and spending tons of time with my girl Winn and all those darn Cats, was becoming completely lost in taking photos, scanning them, making slight alterations and adjustments, removing dust spots and tiny flaws. And uploading them here. Lost in this water glass with sweet peas, their stems and twining tendrils. Polaroid paintings of colour and shape and light.

Dawn is just breaking and our little harbour is completely filled with fog.

And can't get this song out of my mind by Halifax (yes that would be Halifax, Nova Scotia) Indie sensation Wintersleep

irons in fires

our walk last night

I feel excited this morning and what a nice feeling that is. I have a few (design creative) irons in a few fires and it seems that that state (design busy) is what makes me happiest, is what I thrive on. If I'm not busy and I don't have multiple projects on the go and lets just say I could ... work on anything that I wanted to. Well, I become sloth like and want to lie in the nest, flipping through fashion magazines and eating bon bons, or worse cheesies. I'm a girl who needs to feel a little urgency to get myself going. I have many irons, as well, in the home upkeep, home renovation, housecleaning (screwed up face as if I just sucked on a lemon) and fall/winter preparation - fire and trust me those irons just make me feel constantly overwhelmed, daunted, almost frightened (I think they call that panic & anxiety). But hey, for this early morning, dark and still hour, with Oliver and my coffee ... I'm not goin' there. And I bet your relieved.

My giclee prints arrived yesterday. 3x3 and 3x4 prints of my photographs on watercolour paper with oh so saturated inks & intense beautiful colour. The little mats for them arrived earlier in the week and this morning at 4am something I was placing mats over photos and oohing and ahhing with the cats and Miss Dixon. I still have a few components of these little art print/greeting card packets to prepare and I won't bore you with all those little details. Let's just say I am very detail oriented, and there are a lot of choices out there in the great big world, say ... when it comes to envelopes for example - these little artprint/greeting cards will come with an envelope and of course I want to choose the most ideal envelope (please note the absence of the word perfect - but you know that's what I mean). Also an area in which I've always lacked confidence is measuring, and this etsy shop project has involved a ton of measuring. Making sure the mat openings are the right size for the photos, and what would be the most beautiful and aesthetically pleasing shape and size of white space around each image (mat), the art print card and envelope needs to fit snuggly in the cellophane sleeve and the cellophane sleeve needs to fit into the cardboard mailer and God knows I don't want to end up with a case of 1000 seal-able cellophane sleeves an 1/8th of an inch too small. Measure sixteen times - order once. I guess I did decide to bore you with the details. Wink. End of August Etsy shop grand opening ? It all must be p______ !!! or pretty darn close.

I'm also working on a logo business card design for a local person. Bubbles, Bags & Bling the name of the company - fashiony and lots of fun and I don't do much graphic design anymore (I mostly design products -giftware frames, jewellery and such) and I'm just about to put on my Religious, Spiritual, Inspirational photo frame collection design hat - and come up with as many, oh so brilliant, thumbnails as humanly possible for customer No Uno, and thus ensuring another big fat cheque, 'cause Mama's gotta bring home the kitty litter.

I need to take La Beast Rouge for a spin around the entire yard sometime this weekend and I must get out the machete and hack a path to the street. The Purolator guy commented the other day, I think he got tangled up trying to deliver a parcel to our front door. Sigh.

And the Olympics are on (I had my cable hooked back up - I proudly survived 2 entire months with no television). I LOVE the summer Olympics, swimming, track & field, diving .... I love it all and I love that it's happening in China. A country I am totally fascinated by. I'll be glued to CBC and I love that they have lots of mini documentaries exploring the country, the history, the customs as well as excellent coverage of the games themselves.

Light rain and lobster boats leaving the harbour, the sounds outside my window this early morning.

everything

Jake

Handsome, red, gentle, kind, loving
Athletic, silly, hungry, friendly to all
Stick fetchin', loyal, affectionate, warmth
Companion, pillow, comfort, security
Love, busy, curious, happy, carefree
Confident, goofy, my love,
everything good and true ... Noodle

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear
C.S. Lewis

my girl, she loves to twirl

my constant companion - and what would I do without her ?

Miss Winnie Dixon.

Yesterday (the highlites)

One 90 minute walk at the beach with 3 women, 2 dogs and 1 puppy. Smiling until my face hurt at the antics, spins and twirls of my girl Winn and puppy Baby Duke. My girl, she sure loves to twirl.

Called 3 of 5 bogeymen on my list and spoke to them in person to arrange for their services. I don't know why but I hate calling these guys - I dread it, I always put it off and off and then when I finally speak to them I think " that wasn't so bad". Go figure.

1. Carl - general handyman guy, first on his agenda - to remove the vine from atop my roof and remove a few trees from my forest.
2. David - heating and hot water plumbing guy - to come and check my entire system boiler, radiators, base board heaters, a new tap for outside and to replace the rusty little radiator in my upstairs bathroom
3. Vinnie - chimney sweep, fire place insert/fire box fixer guy. I have an insert in my fireplace. It's like a wood stove tucked into your fireplace. Inside are steel straps which hold heat retaining bricks in place. The unit has a fan that blows the heat out into the living room and it does a really good job of heating most of my house in winter. The steel straps need to be replaced and the fire box of bricks on the inside rebuilt. I have all the new parts - now he has to put it together.

Phew ! Just describing some of the ongoing old house maintenance that continually needs to be looked after and kept on top of makes me feel tired.

Made an impromptu trip to town with an old friend I hadn't seen in ages. A stop at Frenchy's, Tim Hortons and the Superstore. All Maritime institutions. She drove and I talked about Jake as much as I wanted to. Sigh.

Dropped my wagon (97 Ford Escort - teal in colour) off at the garage to have a rattle underneath looked at.

Walked with Winnie Dixon in the evening along the harbour and down to the crescent beach and then back to the garage to pick up the wagon - good as new. Spoke with Charles and Shawn, two sweet mechanic guys (not at all bogeymen) about doing a little rust repair/body work myself. Shawn gave me a list of products to purchase and a wee tutorial. Smile. Paid the 25.00 charge for a bit of welding - you gotta love little village prices.

Made a few great connections via email with the Golden Retriever rescue network.

Slept perfectly.

little signs

detail from Flute Meditation - Michael Parks

This card depicting the love felt between an animal and a human arrived in the mail yesterday with a parcel of goodies. A card that reminded me (not that I needed to be reminded) of my big red boy Jake. An image that speaks to me about feelings of trust, security, comfort and love. Reminding me of these warm coloured images I linked to yesterday - the same day this card arrived. The card was from MLou (very best friend and designer also) and she received this card from J. (very best blog friend and regular commenter). So ... it felt to me like I was receiving wishes and comfort from two completely different directions yesterday (one from way down south and the other from not far away at all). And specific wishes arriving in a kind of unintentional, slightly haphazard and completely serendipitous way - it's amazing to me how the people in my life have become very intertwined - people who barely know each other, yet we keep crossing each others paths and always at the most perfect moment.

Yesterday while scrolling through my bookmarks searching for a blog with a particularly lovely line drawn banner, for inspiration for a drawing that I was working on, I came across this previously bookmarked site. Big Sigh. Sigh is all I can say really. A big part of me yearns for exactly this - a tiny new bundle of male golden red fur to nurture and love from baby to adult. A mini you-know-you. Or reasonable facsimile. The other part of me does not believe in paying for a dog from a breeder when SO many wonderful dogs need homes. I have filled out applications at three Canadian Golden rescue organizations (Ontario, Quebec and the Maritimes) and I'm hoping another Golden who needs a forever home will find us. Or maybe just another dog who needs a home (all mixtures & pedigrees accepted) will find us.

Winnie's been so silly in the mornings with baby Duke at the beach. Carol's new dog. Silly like I haven't seen her in a very long time. She plays and plays and plays with him. Letting him jump up and mouth her face and then she runs and spins and shows off her extremely fancy and oh so agile footwork. It's so funny to watch. Seeing her play with him makes my heart burst. I must take some action photos soon. The two of them together are just a scream. And both Carol and I are quite surprised at how happy Winnie is to play with Duke- how totally silly and goofy she becomes. After all Winnie is 9 and she can be such a serious dog. I think she spies a little Noodle dog in there. She really seems to love little baby Duke, who just turned 12 weeks Monday.

I can't remember how or why exactly that I came to this (just another one of my things) but I've decided that black feathers, are messages from my boy Jake. Little hellos, little signs that he's OK . He misses us too, but that he's fine, he's fetching sticks somewhere, maybe up at some lake on God's retriever team - he's happy. And of course since realizing that black feathers were to be paid attention to, I've been finding black feathers (and they're not at all common) in my travels and always at just the right times, when I need them the most and most often lying just off my beaten path. Which makes it even more amazing when I spy one. Last night Winnie and I walked up our street, back home again, after an early evening walk along the harbour. We just were about to pass the large pine tree in our front yard and a sound, a bird call made my head swing suddenly to the left and there on the ground below our big pine tree was a large black feather. Hey there handsome.

Summer's disappeared for a bit. The sky remains grey and stormy, clouds are whipping across the sky chased by a strong breeze coming from the water and there' s a chill in the air that feels like fall. I noticed it last night for the first time. Something cellular in me loves fall, loves that crispness in the air, that smell and even that brief waft of autumn feeling that washed over us as we sat on the beach last night, Winnie Dixon and I, staring out into the harbour. Just me and my girl ... made me feel good.

fine & quiet (sort of)

lush green hosta in my back garden

Raining, raining, raining - and you know the rain suits me just fine. More sounds of dripping water and rustling leaves, a gently snoring scraggly black dog asleep in her bed under my desk and the call of a loon far away in the distance somewhere. I used to turn the radio on these early mornings but lately I've been enjoying the peace and the quiet - paying attention to the sounds in our little world, all around us, as day breaks once again at 29 Black Street.

Things feel better today and thank you for all the kind and understanding comments. It's quite simple really, what I'm feeling. I want my dog back. I want my big red hunk of love back. I want Jake back and I want him back forever. And I can't help wanting that. Then when it begins to sink in how crazy that want and desire is, how futile ... that's what makes me feel sick, makes me feel breathless. That helpless feeling of realizing I can't ever have him back. I know with time this feeling will fade, it won't feel so sharp and desperate. I'm still in a place where I judge all time, always by, was Jake still here ? I'm in a place where in conversations with friends I hunt for opportunities to say his name ... out loud, I want to talk about him - as if he were still here ... with us. I'm madly in love with that dog. That dog Jake.

And I am so, so grateful that he and I managed to find each other and that I shared over 12 wonderful years with such a joyful spirit, as big as big can be. I feel very lucky and very privileged. Unfortunately feeling grateful and thankful doesn't stop me from wanting him back.

My apologies, when I sat down this morning my plan was to talk about how I had nothing to talk about this morning. That I felt quiet, nothing to say. Everything is fine. Fine & quiet.

I"ll always find a reason to talk about Jake. Love ya Noodle.


ferns

27 days

the August page from my Cavallini wall calender.

It's 5:02 am and it is pitch black outside my wide open studio windows, it's been raining all night although it's stopped now, I think. I can hear the sound of dripping water and leaves rustling in the big trees in the front yard. It also sounds like Bleet, who's been out roaming with the raccoons since 4:30am is having a cat squabble over near Florence's garage next door. I inhale, a huge deep breath in. Breathing deeply really does feel so good. Such a simple thing. A sip of perfect coffee with lots of milk and the tiniest bit of sugar. And here we go again - it's another new day here at 29 Black Street, a new week and a new Monday. And it's very near the beginning of this new month of August, 27 days left sprawled out ahead of us.

I have been struggling and I guess that's no surprise to anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis. I have been feeling weighted down by Ache & Sadness. By Loss & Loneliness. Saying goodbye to Jake in January I said goodbye to a big part of me. He felt like my everything - he made me laugh, he was my comfort and security and joy. He was goofy, confident and demanding and I loved him more than I have ever loved anything or anyone. I adored him. And what to do you do with death ? there are no choices. I can't go back in time and change a thing and I can't go back in time and live all of our sweet moments over ... and over again, although God knows I've tried ... in my mind. Feeling all of this, is what grief is all about - what loss is. It's the other side of love.

I believe that I am doing everything that I know how to, to get through this time in my life and I know that eventually I will emerge again on some other coast. Washed up on some warm sandy beach, feeling whole again. I have to believe that. Lately when I'm feeling particularly sad I imagine my new life, the life that's ahead of me, somewhere, maybe it's just around the next corner. One where I feel strong, able, happy and carefree again. A life once again with 2 or 3 dogs many cats and a little tiny house within walking distance to the ocean ... somewhere else, and somewhere new.

Some of you who read this blog regularly may feel exasperated with the ongoing theme - of grief and sadness. I also know that there are others of you who know completely, this feeling of aching sadness, this feeling of being endlessly lost ... because you've told me and I take much comfort in those words. Most often I don't have any idea what I will write when I sit down here each morning with my coffee. I just write what's on my mind - what's been rattling around taking up space in there. I'm a heart on my sleeve girl, I always have been ... and I always will be. He's on my mind, ... he's almost always on my mind.

A friend many years ago said to me you show all of your weakness on the outside and then you shed them off ... I always considered that a compliment of sorts and I guess I'm still shedding some of my weaknesses.

So ... these next 27 days are about flushing out this new dream, this new life. It will be a time to be especially kind to myself, to be gentle and caring (and always, as well - to others). To be productive (because that always makes me feel happy & content). To not be afraid - to tackle and wrestle to the ground some of the bogeymen on my list. To be grateful. Enormously grateful and to remember to breathe.

1000, 2000 ...

he's just chillin', my l'il man, my Mr. Mr. - Gussie Gus

This morning at 5:00 am Winnie Dixon and I curled up on the guest room bed in darkness. I with my coffee and Winn with her cheeks of sweetness and we waited to watch flashes of lightening and then we would count until the thunder clap - 1000, 2000, 3000, always counting out loud - the secret equation for figuring out the distance between you and the thunderstorm.

A counting game I've played since childhood. If you manage to count to 7 or 8 thousand (as we did this morning) then the storm is 7 or 8 miles away - rare is the time that you see the big flash of light and then barely get the first 1000 out– before the crack of thunder cuts you off. Now that's exciting because that means the storm is directly overhead. But that hardly ever happens. I can remember once I was in a hotel room in New York City, the rain outside my window coming down in torrents and suddenly there was a crash of thunder so explosively loud that it didn't sound like thunder. When thunder happens directly over you you feel it as much as you hear it. This was the summer of 2005 and for a split second, hearing this crash as loud as I could imagine, I thought of 9/11. And years ago I lived in Montreal, on the plateau and often in the hot humid evenings of summer we would have incredible thunder storms, no chance to count between lightening and thunder. Crashes so loud, my heart would race, it was thrilling and scary and I would always think to myself (and still do) - the world and nature is such an amazing thing.

It's pouring rain here and has been since I opened my eyes just passed 4:30. Miss Dixon and I may stay home this morning. If this downpour continues, we'll wait for it to let up and we'll skip the far away beach and we'll walk in the park and down to the crescent beach that's nearby and within the village limits. When Jake & Em were still here with us we'd walk in pouring rain, they were water dogs - rain meant nothing to them. Miss Winn seems to prefer staying dry, we'll walk in gentle rain but this beating down rain ... it's for the retrievers.

I'll pour my bath of bubbles and scent and I'll go back to bed with my second cup of coffee and my notebook and favourite pen and she and I, we'll do some planning and scheming and dreaming and hoping. It's Sunday.


and a chillin' is what he does best

a new chance

she's my girl - Miss Winnie Dixon

Big sleepy sigh .... 5:46 am and I'm afraid I've been awake for ages. It's a weekend of seeing if I can't get back up in that saddle after a few days of hanging on for dear life, or that's how it feels at times. Lists and schedules, charts and calenders my favourite tools in this ol' game, and it is a new month, and I do so love a new anything. A new day, a new week, or another new chance.

And oh, how I love her, that sweet girlfriend of mine ... Winnie.

9:52 - home from our two hour beach walk, a stop at the Farmers Market for garden fresh green and yellow beans and new baby carrots. It's now pouring rain. Phew ! Big happy sigh and I do love it when the weather suits my mood. Puttering 'til 2pm then a lie down in the nest with a good book. Wink.

love

Noodle & me

There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.

Aeschylus

Another polaroid of Jake and me. I was quite sure that all my polaroids and especially any of my much missed big red dog had been safely tucked away in a photo album. This old house has two crawlspaces. Like large closets with doors that run along both sides of my bedroom, along the eaves where the roof slants downward . Earlier this week I was putting something away in one of these crawlspaces and there, on the floor, staring up at me, was this photograph. One I hadn't even remembered taking. I scanned it and carefully removed any dust spots and scratches with Photoshop and all week long I've been looking forward to today.

To the day I knew that I would post this photo, the day that I always say his name out loud. Jake. Last night as I puttered around the kitchen and Miss Dixon stood on the stairway landing watching me, wondering what was happening next and could it be that we were soon going for our evening walk I said to her. Wouldn't it be amazing if I could just open the door and in he'd walk ? Oh wouldn't we give him a greeting -you and I Winnie? Like those times when he and I would go off to town for a vet appointment and Winnie would stay home with the cats. Oh the greeting we'd receive when we'd return and I was always second on her list of spins and twirls and mad, mad kisses. Jake would always get the first round. She loved him as much as I did and we both miss him.

I saw a Dr. early this week, himself a dog lover. Among other things, we spoke about my grief and my constant companions - Ache & Sadness. He said to me Six months is not long. I knew that in my heart ... but bless him for saying it to me.

Tearless grief bleeds inwardly.

Christian Nevell Bovee


the song I would sing to him ... if he were here beside me today
dogs love it when you sing to them.

Cuz I love you more than I could ever promise
And you, take me the way I am