I am in pain, every joint, muscle, rib. Breathing is stretching, moving my hands sends splinter feelings up my knuckles, getting out of the chair is what I imaging 90 must feel like. I am crippled and I love it.
Monday to Thursday I spend 85% of the day on my feet, I spend 50/50 of that either under a (most likely difficult and unruly) horse and at the forge learning how to hammer steel into shapes. I have blisters ON my blisters, and they are all in the creases of my second and third knuckles. Breathing reminds me I need to see a chiropractor to get my rip placed back where the good Lord intended. I am so happy.
Last night, while attempting to fall asleep in record time I lay awake thinking about quotes on pain. “Pain is beauty” is the one that pops to mind first. Indeed often it can be, but honey, my hands look like a 50 year old loggers, and that ain’t beauty. I read a haunting book last year called The Secret History, by Donna Tartt. Read it. Here’s a quote that struck me:
Beauty is rarely soft or consolatory. Quite the contrary. Genuine beauty is always quite alarming…Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.
Beauty is terror. Interesting. So I went on a “it’s 12 am I now have 5.75 hours left to sleep” rabbit trail in my mind. You know the ones. Here’s the long, run-on sentence that it turned into.
Beauty is Terror, Terror = fear, The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, I always thought the truly wise knew what and how much to fear, therefore Wisdom = managed fear. Wisdom is beautiful = wisdom is terrible;
Wisdom is Pain.
I’m sure it was the late hour and the fact that every time I rolled over my bones creaked like an old snag tree off the west coast but this meant something slightly awesome to me last night.
I’m n half a bottle of cab sav in, Something’s Got to Give is playing in the background, and I am getting ready to brush my teeth before getting into bed. Once again, before ten.
Life is beautiful
I’ll spare you the long drawn out apology as to why I’ve not written because, hey it’s my blog not yours. However it is the first of 2013 and I felt the need to resolve some things. Go figure.
To update the previous years list:
8.) Make a sour dough starter. Keep it alive forever.
9.) Harvest. Cultivate. Enjoy.
10.) Make epic costume.
11.) Bake every weekend. Of just this month… maybe.
12.) Go to Sudbury for Christmas.
I made bread in August, not sour dough. Also I got into Kombucha and have nearly made my own batch. I feel fine about that.
I harvested amazing tiny grape tomatoes off my tomato plant, (obviously), I realized I do not know how to cultivate, I did enjoy.
I made a spectacular Steampunk costume. Someone must have a picture of it somewhere. I used all my own clothes and realized I have some kick ass taste. Oh ya.
I baked three weekends in a row, then on the fourth our lab ate my rolling pin, and on the first weekend in December both dogs broke into all the baking, and ate it. All of it. I cried.
We stayed in BC for christmas, we just got married, we’re broke.
I’m half way through a list of things I’m thinking of updating you on soon. I’ll let you know later as I plan to get back to publishing a post once a month at least. I may not though, as I have recently discovered pottermore.com and I am a bigger nerd now than ever. I am a 28 1/2 year old Hufflepuff, and I’m bad at potions but I rock spells. You looking at me?
Peace and have a super year! Hey we survived an apocalypse, that’s at least two now for me, I feel like Buffy.
My super cool cousin is living one of my alternate existence dreams. She’s in the Maritimes, spending $$ on education, going to such shows as Joel Plasket, Dan Mangan, and, if she knows what’s good for her, The Wet Secrets.
Read about why you shouldn’t feel bad about learning.
Yesterday I had a conversation with a friend. She was frustrated with someone and didn’t know “Why they won’t change”. I had an “OhmygoshIhavetheperfectadvice!!” moment. You see I watched Dexter the evening before; Deb is in therapy and she has issues with Dexter being “distant and unsupportive”. (Seriously I can’t belive Deb is STILL surprised about that.. it’s been like six seasons already! He is who he is.) The therapist said at one point;
Therapist: Would you expect a chair…suddenly become a… table?
Debra: No, but…
Therapist: No, because a chair…
Debra: …is a chair.
So I got to feel all smart because of my television adiction. I’m not sure if it actually helped my friend but… I get it if it doesn’t, she’s a chair.
One thousand twenty five hundred six hundred minutes… dum de de sum
Okay more like three thousand one hundred thirty three kilometres, that’s how long it takes to Calgary and back. (From McNeillio anyway.)
I am home!