A Widow for 5 Years

On November 17, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?37 Comments

Dear Blog,

So sorry I’ve been neglecting you of late. I’ve been uber reflective this past while (with no signs of stopping), and haven’t felt like/ready to speak of any of this on ye olde you. Which, although a little early, is not out of character for me, at this time of the approaching solstice.

Anyways, this post will be kinda short, as I did something to my back yesterday and I can’t stay comfortably in one spot for too long. Yeah, I was moving an empty shopping cart in the Costco parking lot and every muscle in my lower back seized. Weird. Both my parents had back problems (and Mom underwent several surgeries) and I thought I had dodged that particular bullet, but maybe that time is over? Hopefully not. Robaxacet and ice are my 2 new best friends.

So this week marked my 5th year as a widow. That’s 2 years longer than I was married (although we were together for 11 years, in total). To mark the occasion, I did this:

dried out wedding bouquet — Tossed in the garbage can, finally. After 8 years.

Yep. Right after I got back from my honeymoon, I hung up my wedding bouquet in my office to dry it out, and there it has been every since. Over the years, I’ve kept looking at it and thinking I really should take it down, but then the phone would ring or someone would walk in, and after a while, you just don’t even see it there anymore.

So this week, on November 14th – the 5 year anniversary of JD’s passing and my entry into widowhood – I finally got up on a step stool, removed the bouquet from the ceiling hook it was suspended from, and tossed it in my trash bin.

I mean, what else am I supposed to do with this thing?

Nothing really means anything to me anymore about this relationship, since learning of his infidelity after his death. All my formerly wonderful memories have been tainted by this discovery, so I don’t even have those to comfort me. So why hang on to any reminders of that time?

At this point, I just feel meh about the whole thing. So many good things have happened since November 14th, 2013 that my married life feels like another, far distant life entirely. And that in itself, is a very good thing.

Rock on,

The WB

The Changing Seasons – October 2018

On October 27, 2018 By Widow BadassIn See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors26 Comments

Clouds reflected on pond — Reflections of Fall at the Puslinch Tract

It’s been hard for me to blog this Fall. October is the month you realize there are not many days left you can head out with bare hands and a bare head. So that puts some urgency into my outdoor activities and causes me angst when I’m stuck indoors (looking at you, work!) on a beautiful day.

Luckily there have been some stellar weekends (although this cold, blustery, rainy one is not one of them) and I was out on the trails with my trusty iPhone camera in hand:

beautiful leaves — Fiery Foliage peeking through the trees

clashing colours in nature — Who says you can’t wear purple and orange together? Not Mother Nature, that’s for sure.

I don’t know if this was an exceptional year for fungus or not, but for some reason I noticed fabulous fungi everywhere I looked, this fall.

bracket fungus on tree — Brilliant Bracket Fungus

fungus that looks like a turkey tail — Aptly-named Turkey Tail Fungus

can't identify fungus — I don’t know what this is (and neither does iNaturalist for sure, apparently). Way too many suggestions and none looked quite like this.

red lichen — I’m lichen this Wrinkled Crust lichen 🙂

edible fungus — This one is called Bears Head Tooth. And it’s edible, though I didn’t try it. One of my fellow walkers did, and I see he is still posting on Facebook so that means he survived. 😉

As it’s almost Halloween, I thought I’d share some of the wild decor I saw at my latest visit to my orthodontist.

decor at the orthodontist — When one looks up…

prisoner in cage — Where you end up when you don’t floss, I guess.

The Changing Seasons is a monthly photo challenge hosted by Su Leslie, of Zimmerbitch. Please stop by her blog to see the Changing Season, down under in New Zealand.

That is October, almost a wrap!

Happy Halloween everyone, and rock on,

The WB

SaveSave

Random Thanksgiving Thoughts

On October 7, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?37 Comments

canada geese on river — Happy not to be turkeys this weekend, I suppose.

Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian friends!

My sister is down visiting me this lovely Thanksgiving weekend, so this post will be short ~~and hopefully mostly sweet~~.

I haven’t made any further progress on my mermaid painting, in case you were wondering. The weather has been good again and I’ve been going out on many a fall walk, to enjoy it. I hope to post some progress made by next weekend.

I occasionally dream about my late husband. They are not nice dreams. In the dreams I am anxious that he will find out I threw out (almost) all his stuff and completely overhauled his building since he died. A couple of nights ago when he appeared in a dream is the first time that I actually spoke up and told him that I knew he cheated on me. Which left me wondering what this means, when I awoke. I usually wake up and wonder why I didn’t confront him with this in the dream, so I guess this is improvement and healthy on the part of my psyche? Any dream interpreters out there with thoughts on this?

Like every other sane woman on the planet with internet access, I am disgusted by what is happening in the US right now. Looks like the patriarchy is not going away anytime soon. I had thought we were making (infinitesimally) slow but steady progress towards a more just world (for anybody, everybody…not just white cis males) since I was a child, but looks like any progress that was being made can be wiped out in an instant. Since Trump, the bigots, racists and misogynists feel free to come parading out of their closets and fly their freak flags openly. And this has spilled over to Canada too. WTF?

I could be (and maybe should be) losing my shit over this but I am just so tired of it all. Just. So. Tired.

I was a fierce crusader against injustice when I was a preteen/young teen and I got burnt out at a young age. My mother told me once that she and Dad were happy I was born too late to be a “hippy” because they were sure I would have run away to join Greenpeace to save the whales, the planet, whatever they were saving at that time (I forget). I probably would have too.

(Back then, one of my teachers at junior high told my mother that I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. No wonder I need regular massage therapy for that area…hehehe.)

But not any more. I just want to be left alone to enjoy what’s left of my time here in peace. And Trump et al are fucking that up for me. Bringing back all the memories and the feels of what I have endured as a woman in a patriarchal society, and yes, #MeToo.

Anywho, since I can’t pretend I can save the world anymore, at least I can put on a kickass Thanksgiving dinner and enjoy the simple, satisfying pleasure of feeding, and spending time with, my family. Those that can make it to dinner, that is. Which is my plan for this October Sunday.

I wish the same for all of you. Give thanks today for what you can control, and – just for a moment, at least – forget about what you can’t.

Rock on,

The WB

September Sublime 2018 #TheChangingSeasons

On September 29, 2018 By Widow BadassIn See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors, Village Life37 Comments

September started out still blazing hot but now the weather is reasonable again, and perfect for heading to the woods.

Head to the woods I did, with a local group that took me to a brand new area, right off the trail I usually walk. I’d known of this side trail for years of course, but because it looked overgrown and in denser brush I was leery of going too far in by myself. When the group advertised a guided walk into this area I jumped at the opportunity.

Chilligo Creek View — We followed Chilligo Creek for most of the walk.

beautiful forest shot — Heading to a crossing point at the creek.

large oak tree — One of our group refers to this oak as “The Mother Tree” 🙂

Fungal growth on dead branches — The forest floor is full of fungus-y finds like this one.

Purple asters — Fall is the time when the wild asters are the most beautiful.

wildflower in the grass — Another purple fall flower. According to iNaturalist, it is a knapweed.

red leaves — Beautiful bright red foliage of the Virginia Creeper spotted in the meadow.

View of Chilligo Creek as it come out from under the highway. Taken from the side of the road, above.

seeds stuck on clothing — My pants were covered in “travellers” at the hike’s end. Another sign of the fall!

fall colours on hydrangeas — Heading back from the walk, I took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the plantings downtown. They are putting on a show as well, as we cruise into fall. Hydrangeas are changing from white to pink and bronze.

fall colours in mums — A few steps further, I took in the riot of chrysanthemums planted to celebrate fall in our downtown.

pile of seeds — Home again. Sipping wine and picking seeds outta my pants…a perfect end to a perfect walk in the woods.

Sublime. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have wild areas close at hand, with which to restore my soul.

This has been a Changing Seasons Post. The Changing Seasons is a monthly photo challenge, hosted by Su Leslie of Zimmerbitch.

Rock on,

The WB

Fountain Pen Mania, Rekindled

On September 23, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Hmmm?, See the Beauty31 Comments

What I hauled home from the Phidon Pens 10th Anniversary Sale – glass dip pen, 3 new inks, fountain pen-friendly journal (the paper really matters!), converter for my Lamy fountain pen, 2 book marks created gratis by one of the lovely calligraphy class instructors, gratis Phidon bookmark and shopping bag.

When I was a newly minted teenager, I first discovered fountain pens. My dad had given me a old-fashioned box of nibs and a couple of plastic holders that he picked up somewhere from someone, along with a bottle of ink. I loved dipping those pens into the ink bottle and pouring my profound (as profound as any 13 year old’s) thoughts into my notebook every day.

As I got older, I stopped using the pens and writing my profound thoughts down for a time. I was busy as a young wife, career woman, and mother.

Then one day I read “Writing Down the Bones” by Natalie Goldberg, and I remembered my love for writing and for fountain pens as I was reading about her use of the same. So I bought a disposable fountain pen and a cheap notebook, and began pouring out my thoughts (profound and otherwise) again. It felt good to be able to articulate what I was feeling and going through in this way. It was a release valve for me, as I struggled to find meaning and happiness in an unsuitable marriage. Until I found out a decade later that my then-husband had been sneaking into my desk drawer and reading my journal entries all these years without my permission. I felt violated and stopped writing completely. My fountain pens dried up, and I threw them away.

I didn’t keep a journal in my second marriage. I had no more trust left in me. I created and took down a couple of anonymous blogs, writing about my struggles in living with a man who refused to seek help for his OCD. I was so afraid he would find out that they never lasted long.

When JD died and I spent a year cleaning up his hoard, I came across a never-used Waterman fountain pen, still in the presentation box. I did use it a couple of times (for signing the lease with my tenants, for example) but I didn’t like the memories I had attached to it, that came up with each use. Funny how we do this to inanimate objects. Also, I don’t know the provenance of it. Was it a gift from an ex-lover? The woman he cheated on me with? I still have it, but no longer use it. It probably won’t survive the next purge I do around Chez Badass. Instead I bought a (cheap but very nice) Lamy pen off the Interwebs, that I have been using to write with.

So that brings us to the present day. Phidon Pens has been around since 2008, and I have been aware of it since it opened, as it is across the street from the year-round Farmers’ Market that I love to visit. Yet, I had never gone in. Due to a multitude of factors, including me never being in the area when it was actually open for business. And a very real fear of spending my life savings on a rekindled fountain pen mania. Hah!

Which is kinda exactly what happened. I made a special effort to attend the 10th anniversary sale (30% off EVERYTHING), and dropped a load of money on goodies. I almost bought another fountain pen – a beautiful rose gold brushed metal number that felt great in the hand. But, dear Bloggie, instead I bought a converter for the Lamy that I already owned. So now I can draw up one of the inks I bought, instead of relying solely on purchased cartridges. How mature. How fiscally responsible.

Let’s not discuss the glass dip pen (so beautiful, so much fun) though, shall we?

Rock on,

The WB

The Story of a Painting, Part Two: With Interruptions

On September 16, 2018September 16, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Artistic Endeavours, See the Beauty, The Great Outdoors21 Comments

Well, wouldn’t you know it – the weather got better, so I got outside to walk, and painting progress has slowed considerably. Also due to the other interruptions in this thing called life.

Sunset on Mill Pond — Better weather means after-work walks to enjoy the sunset on the Mill Pond!

But here is what happened to the painting since the last time I blogged.

drawing of mermaid on canvas — Drawing traced onto canvas.

Painted outline in burnt umber and erased graphite marks.

Latest progress on mermaid painting — Starting to fill in colour. Loooong way to go yet.

I’m not expecting to get much done this week. Today I am flying to the US for a work conference.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon with Joanne, at the Fashion History Museum’s Tango Tea. She’ll be writing about it soon. You should go check out her blog!

Fashion History Museum Tango Tea Event — At the Tango Tea. This event was so much fun!

Unfortunately I got some bad news while at the Tea. My late father-in-law’s girlfriend (who is 92 and much loved by me and everyone who knows her) is in hospital, suffering from a bleed into her brain with no hope of recovery. We were planning on going out for dinner when I returned from my work trip. I rushed from the Tea to the hospital and met with her family and offered what comfort I could. I also spoke with B, but she was unresponsive. They say hearing is the last sense to go, so hopefully she heard that I was there and that I love her.

And now I really have to shower and pack.

Have a great week, everyone, and rock on!

The WB

The Story of a Painting: Part One

On September 8, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Artistic Endeavours28 Comments

Since I am a beginning (again) artist and a few of my blogger friends and readers are as well, I thought it would be fun to share my process as I work on a painting I’ve had in my mind for quite a while. For me, creating art can be broken down into a series of problems to solve in order to get to the finished product (and get the painting in my mind put down on canvas).

I love tattoo art, and am especially fond of old-school tattoos. I also have always loved mermaids. So, it should be no surprise that I would want to paint a mermaid, in an old-school tattoo style.

I haven’t spent much time in the studio this summer as I’ve been enjoying the great weather, but now that’s changed and I have this mermaid painting that needs to come out of me.

I started by covering by 16×20″ canvas with primary magenta cut with a little titanium white and a touch of burnt umber. I wanted a nice warm, rich background.

Actually I started by cleaning off the mess on the table so I could place the canvas on there, but does this really need to be said? I feel this is just a given.

Then I scraped on a bunch of colours with an old credit card. I think it was unbleached titanium, yellow ochre, cadmium red, and bit of hookers green.

Nice enough, but not what I was going for, for this painting.

I decided the background needed more work, so after it was dry I went back at it with just unbleached titanium and yellow ochre. Went horizontal instead of lengthwise with the paint application this time.

After scraping the paint on with the credit card, I blended it out with my new favourite brush – the mop. I deliberately left some of the under colours showing through. Now it looks aged and a bit distressed (like the artist, hehehe!). Me like!

Now that I was happy with the background, it was time to work on the mermaid. I had printed off a drawing I found on Ye Olde Interwebs, for inspiration. I needed to make it larger, so I grabbed a piece of tracing paper and gridded it to match the simple grid I drew on the print-off.

The top of the freezer I inherited from my mom makes a great work surface – as you can see, from the paint spatters on the wall behind. 🙂

It took me almost 45 minutes to be satisfied with the mermaid, but after some erasing and redrawing, I am pretty happy with what I drew.

Her face looks more like my first Barbie doll’s than the face on the print-off, but I kinda like it. I also changed her hair for better symmetry of design, with her tail.

I’m ready to trace my design onto the canvas once it dries completely. Not sure if to do the outlining first, or paint her in first. If this was a real tattoo, I’d be outlining first, then filling in. Hmmmm….Stay tuned for Part Two. And, if you’re looking at these posts for actual artistic advice, please remember:

Rock on,

The WB

And that was August #TheChangingSeasons

On August 31, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Good Times, Home Improvement, Music20 Comments

The first weekend of August was reserved for the Mill Race Festival of Traditional Music.

I enjoyed listening to the world music brought to this festival. This year, I listened to an artist from Afghanistan:

Qais Essar getting ready to play a 2500 year old instrument – the rabab

And one originally from West Africa, now based out of Montreal:

Zal Sissokho playing the kora – an African harp. It was magical.

The second weekend of August was KW Bluesfest, starting on Thursday night with Rik Emmett (formerly of Triumph):

And then it was Jonny Lang’s turn:

Saturday afternoon, I watched Magic Dick (of J.Geils Band) work his harmonica magic:

Saturday night it was the Ghost Town Blues Band – highly enjoyable – so much so that I forgot to take any pictures!

Sunday morning it was gospel for breakfast:

Then my daughter and her guy left for BC and I fell apart, and into a frenzy of cleaning:

Washed and resealed the slate floor in my bathroom. On my hands and knees. Ouch.

The third weekend of August was set aside for Riverfest Elora.

Friday night, July Talk hit the stage:

Riverfest has gained popularity. It was quite crowded this year. Grrr.

Dear Rouge – another great Canadian band I was privileged to see.

The final weekend of August was for connecting with friends and recovering from all the festival action.

Then a few days ago, I took some time during the week to go to Stratford with Joanne of My Life Lived Full, to catch Rocky Horror at the Avon Theatre:

Waiting for Rocky: Let’s make silly faces, she said. OK, I said.

The next day we got even sillier on the Speed River. Not really, although I did get baptized in the river when my kayak entry went awry (first time, ever!). Thankfully no undignified pictures were snapped because Joanne is a FRIEND first and blogger second. 🙂 Check out her kayaking photos here.

And that pretty much wraps up the month for me.

The Changing Seasons is a monthly blog challenge hosted by Su Leslie of Zimmerbitch.

Rock on,

The WB

Gutted by Grief

On August 23, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Badassery, Hmmm?34 Comments

Dear Blog,

By now you are no doubt wondering where I have suddenly gone. I’ve broken my promise to you to write weekly for this year and you are wondering what the hell happened when I have been going so strong, so far. Wonder no more, dear Bloggie. I have been gutted by grief.

Oh, I know what you are thinking. I should be an old hand at this grief thing by now. After all, I’ve lost so many loved ones over the past 5 years that I note and celebrate a year without a funeral in my annual Christmas letter. Seriously.

I knew that my adult daughter, Mizz J, leaving me to start a new life in British Columbia was going to be tough. After all, she has never lived more than a 15 minute car ride away from me for her entire life. And she spent the last 2 years living with me, again. But I had no idea just how bad it was going to be.

It started with my daughter and her man (who I also love and miss) pulling out of my driveway, for the last time (for the foreseeable future) about a week ago. We’d had a tearful parting, natch, although I was happy to see them start off on this adventure together, and they were happy to be going.

As the vehicle pulled away, I felt…I don’t know how to explain it really…just wrong in my body. I didn’t know what was happening to me physically other than I hated the feeling. Everything was wrong, in my body and my mind. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was distraught and absolutely at loose ends. It was horrible.

Was I dying? Is this what it feels like? I finally decided I wasn’t dying, so now what do I do?

I reached out on Facebook to people for suggestions on how to cope, and I got plenty of good ideas but truly, I was too upset and distracted to employ any of them at the time.

So, practical me, I cleaned instead. And organized. And wept. And thus worked myself into an exhaustion that left no more room for feeling.

So ended the first day.

It got slowly better after that, dear Blog. I went to work. I went to the 3rd of 3 music festivals I committed to this month. I cleaned more. I organized more. I exercised. I meditated. I journalled about being grateful to have deep, reciprocated feelings for family. I worked my plan for this time that I knew was coming.

I am plagued by high levels of fatigue and body aches, yet. I am forgetful and get distracted easily. Remember that advertisement for pain medication that proclaimed “Because depression hurts”? Well, grief hurts too. But even with all the grief I have experienced, to date nothing has given me physical symptoms like this.

Someone suggested that this episode is so severe because it is a culmination of everything that has gone before, hence the extreme reaction. Could be some (or a lot) of truth to that. I can’t say. All I can say is that I thought I knew what grief was, but dear Blog, I really had no idea how devastating it could be – not only mentally but physically.

Someone said to me that I really wasn’t such a badass after all – that this proved I was only “human”. I agreed with them – I am definitely human.

But I still believe I am also a badass and that the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

Being a badass doesn’t mean you are tough as nails and can’t be affected by anything and never feel deep emotion.

Being a badass means life knocks you down and you keep getting back up.

Being a badass means you push through the pain.

Being a badass means you know that life is both good AND bad and that neither condition lasts forever.

So enjoy the good and gut the bad stuff out, dear Bloggie, even when it’s gutting you.

I’ll be visiting you again soon. I promise.

Rock on,

The WB

The August Plan

On August 4, 2018August 31, 2018 By Widow BadassIn Good Times, Hmmm?, Music41 Comments

August is a great month. Fresh corn, peaches, and tomatoes are all available. I have music festivals lined up for each of the first 3 weeks. I’m seeing The Rocky Horror Show in Stratford during the last week of August. It’s my son’s birthday next weekend and I’m throwing him a birthday dinner to celebrate.

What is not to love?

Well, my daughter, who has been living with me for the past 2 years while pursuing her MSW, and her boyfriend, who has been living with us for the past 6 months, are pulling out of Ontario mid-month to start a new life out on the west coast, in British Columbia.

I’m very happy for them. This is the right move for them, for many reasons. And I’m a wee bit envious of their grand adventure. But I’m also going to miss them like crazy.

My place is going to feel very empty for a while. I am going to have to deal with coming home every day to an empty house, again.

Don’t get me wrong – I love living alone.

I want to live alone.

I deserve to live alone.

But every time I have people stay for a length of time, when they leave I have to get used to living alone all over again. And having a child not only leave but move 3-fucking-thousand miles away is going to multiply my alone-feeling exponentially.

I don’t want this to happen:

Hehehehe…the opening of this movie continues to crack me up every time I watch it.

But seriously, I don’t want this to be me.

So I am drafting a bit of a plan, to adjust to being alone again.

Instead of eating or drinking my feelings (a real fear, people), I plan to exercise them. Instead of moping around the house, I plan to clean and organize it. Instead of being my introverted, antisocial self, I might actually call a friend and make a plan to go out.

OK, maybe that last one is a bit of a stretch. 😉

I feel good that I’m anticipating my sadness and have a plan to deal with it.

Today’s post was supposed to be about what a great time I had last Friday at the spa with fellow bloggers Karen and Joanne, and then the continued birthday celebrations at home Saturday, and then meeting lovely Karen The Unassuming Hiker (another blogger I admire) and her equally lovely husband for lunch on Sunday, and how bagged I am from all the socializing and then having to do the job of 2 people at work all week, and my need to recover from all of the above. Whew.

But instead this is what I really need to write about.

Rock on,

The WB