Sunday Night Follies

Dear Blog,

OMIGAWD, why didn’t any one tell me the Flower of Life was going to be so fucking hard to draw? I mean, it’s just a series of circles you don’t even really draw because the compass is supposed to do all the work for you? Okay, technically Julie did say it was challenging. But I didn’t really believe her. Or I thought yeah, “challenging for other people”. Not I. Hah, I was born with a compass in my hand, or so I thought. (Ouch, sorry Mom).

Bloggie, it took me 4 attempts to get the damn thing drawn. Four. And did you know that if you don’t hold this compass exactly right, the circles can get bigger or smaller because the fucking pencil lead magically starts moving from its predetermined length and suddenly your circles are off-kilter and not matching up any more after the second or third rotation?

Maybe I just do not have a good compass. Maybe. It looks like a good compass. See:

Prevents inadvertent setting adjustments, my ass.
This is my compass. “Prevents unintended setting adjustments”, my ass.

By the 3rd attempt I tried holding the compass differently – very lightly, by the very top of it only – so that my apparent death grip on the compass would not change the size of the circle’s radius inadvertently. Success!

Finally drawn. Using earlier attempts as practice for trying out new acrylic inks.
Finally drawn. Using earlier attempts as practice for trying out new acrylic inks.

Having re-mastered the compass, I moved on to the kitchen to try to make a lasagna for the first time in many, many years…AND without pasta.

I thought slicing zucchini very thin and layering with it would be an acceptable substitute.

Lasagna "zoodles"
Lasagna “zoodles”

Here is the finished product, ready for the oven:

What could possibly go wrong?
What could possibly go wrong?

Blog, it’s either going to be amazing or a soggy mess.

Wish me luck.

Rock on,

The WB

TGIBF?

Dear Blog,

How I wish I could say I spent Black Friday out in the forest  – meditating and eating only vegetables that willingly sacrificed their lives to nourish me –  to karmically balance the rampant consumerism of yea (yay!), this very black day.

But it was just another Friday for me, in the True North Strong and Free. I got up, did my morning thing, went to work.

And found an email in my Inbox with a 55% off coupon at Michaels! Fifty-five percent off!!!!

Bwahahahaha! The spoils of two different stores and two 55% off coupons.
Bwahahahaha! The spoils of two different stores and two 55% off coupons.

So, at lunchtime I decided to brave the big box store shopping centre near my work. I was resolute in my determination not to let the size of the crowds sway me in pursuit of this extraordinary deal.

Blog, it was very anticlimactic. Not only did I have no problem with parking, the line up for the check out at Michaels was 1/4 of the size of the one I had to deal with last week.

Emboldened by my success, I printed off another coupon when I returned to my desk and hit the Michaels in my home town at the end of the work day. Again, somehow I missed all the Black Friday Crowds O’ Frenzy.

I am pretty damn excited to try out these inks, let me tell you Blog. I’m planning to use them in my next mandala exercise – the intimidating and apparently sacred geometry of the Flower of Life. Cue choir of angels singing.

So to sum up – I did cave on my high ideal of NOT EVER SHOPPING ON BLACK FRIDAY.

Totally gratuitous shot of new boots about to worn out to their first official function.
Totally gratuitous shot of new boots (forever to be known as moratorium busters) about to worn out to their first official function on this fine Black Friday. For the record: not bought on Black Friday.

But at least I didn’t come home with new shoes.

Rock on,

The WB

 

50 Years of Friendship Trip

Tickets to Paradise
I’ve got 2 tickets to Paradise…

Dear Bloggie,

I picked up the tickets tonight for the winter get-away Mizz CJ and I have planned, in Barbados. Wheee!

This is a special trip to commemorate our being friends for 50 years. We met in Grade 2, you see.

My daughter Mizz J and I had such a lovely time there in January of this year that I resolved to try my best to make an annual getaway to somewhere warm – if not Barbados, then somewhere that didn’t need a coat, boots and mittens – every winter from now on.

When Mizz CJ heard about our trip she thought it would be perfect to celebrate our milestone there, in 2017. Of course I agreed!

We have a week booked at a small family-run hotel on the beach in Hastings.

Looking forward to those early morning ocean dips and laying under a palm tree devouring a good novel while ocean breezes play with my hair.

I have the Bridgetown weather (along with Amsterdam’s and that of my area) displayed every time I go to the Weather Network webpage. It is 30°C there. Every. Damn. Day.

Last week, on one day it read 28°C. I almost fell off of my chair when I saw it. I wonder if the Bajans grab for their sweaters when the temperature dips down like that.

I probably would, once I got acclimatized.

Rock on,

The WB

 

 

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Hamsa in Progress

Starting to add colour
Starting to add colour

Dear Blog,

Slowly I am making headway on the Hamsa exercise.

I had to use the cheapo markers again. I realized that by outlining the pencil work with fine point black marker so early on, I made it impossible to choose watercolour paints or pencils as the (so-called water resistant) marker bleeds when in contact with water. So now I am limited to using these markers for colouring this piece.

As time goes on I will get better art supplies, but for now these will do. I am having fun and learning, regardless.

Much as I am sick to death of being inundated with Black Friday Everything for over a week already, a wee part of my brains asks: I wonder if my favourite art store will be having a sale? Hehehe!

Yes, Black Friday has become a “thing” here in the True North Strong and Free in recent years, even though our Thanksgiving occurs in October. I don’t particularly like our adoption of this American event – but that doesn’t stop me from pursuing a Black Friday deal on something I was in the market for anyway. (Clearly I can’t bitch about it too loudly.)

Wishing a Happy Thanksgiving to my American blogging buddies!

Rock on,

The WB

Nature is My Muse

Hamsa - Take 2
Hamsa – Take 2

Dear Blog,

Back at my current nemesis – the Hamsa – and feeling much better about this one.

For one thing, I didn’t use my hand this time (fingers too thin and long) and I was able to achieve a more “proper” hamsa outline.

Once again the natural world is featuring prominently in my design.

The Hamsa is supposed to be a symbol of protection, happiness and prosperity and I can think of no place I feel all of these things more than being out in nature.

This is as far as I can get tonight. There is a battle going on inside my body – between my immune system and a viral invader. So far I think the immune system is winning, but I need to rest to give it a fighting chance.

G’night Blog.

Rock on,

The WB

 

Like Finding An Old Friend

Long overdue for a re-read!
Long overdue for a re-read!

Dear Wild Woman Blog,

Saturday night, while I was searching for hamsa inspiration I came across a mention of this book – Women Who Run With the Wolves –  while googling symbols. Funny where it takes you when you head down a search engine rabbit hole. I wonder if Google is the new Tarot deck – delivering answers that your subconscious is looking for. OK, OK Blog – I agree…that is a bit of a stretch.

I knew I had read it before – I just wasn’t altogether sure that I still had it in my possession. Quickly I went to the dining room and checked the bookcases there. YES! Somehow this book had managed to survive the several purges of my library since I first bought (and devoured) it many years ago.

I’m looking forward to revisiting my old, long-neglected friend. With white supremacist patriarchy gaining more and more strength and approval in the States (nay, the WORLD) again, I think this qualifies as required re-reading.

Just in case you thought the True North Strong and Free was spared this idiocy, I give you This Hour Has 22 Minutes’ take on Sam Oosterhoff. This new world needs more AGNES. That is all.

Rock on,

The WB

Beware Those That Doth Protest Too Much

Dear Blog,

There’s been a lot of discussion on Facebook (where I get all my quality news these days…hehehe) about the US Vice-President Elect, Mike Pence, being booed at a Broadway show. Being the curious soul that I am, I read up on Mr. Pence and didn’t like what I found out.

Mr. Pence seems to have a lot of energy to direct towards wanting to target homosexuals and promotes programs for “curing” homosexuals – even going so far as to want to deny medical treatment for any people suffering from AIDS who won’t go into those programs.

It seems to me, dear Blog, that whenever people (usually “straight” men – let’s call a spade a spade) decide to make their name based on persecution of others it is because they are hiding something about themselves. How many times have we read about a well known homophobic pastor or politician found snorting drugs with male prostitutes or having sex with men in public washrooms?

Even my late husband exhibited this type of behaviour. He just would not shut up about infidelity – how it was so wrong and how he suspected members of his family of cheating or starting their now “respectable” relationships as illicit affairs. I was lectured at least once a month about how it would be so bad for our relationship should I ever cheat on him. (No, duh!). For the record dear Blog, I never did nor did I ever have any intention on loving or being with another – JD was my whole world. No matter how difficult our relationship could get at times thanks to the OCD, I never considered venturing outside of it.

Despite having to witness these regular harangues about cheating, the penny never dropped for me.

It got this silly: we were unwinding with a classic movie one night, starring Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. JD thought they were married in real life and without thinking I told him the truth: Spencer Tracy was married to another but he and his wife lived separately and did not divorce, so he and Katharine did not marry although they were very much a couple.

That was it – he declared that henceforth we could never watch another movie with Katharine Hepburn in it because SHE was a cheater. I made a mental note at the time that Spencer Tracy was not pointed out as part of this ban…hmmmm?

This was just too much for me – the one who usually mentally checked out when these rants began, so as to not engage and prolong them any further – and I snapped back: “Well, I guess we can never watch ANY movies again based on that criteria, including those of your favourite, Clint Eastwood – THAT well-known cheater.”

This was met with blessed silence and then a change of topic.

Of course, now we now how the story ends – with his death and my subsequent discovery of HIS cheating.

Another interesting point – JD would also regularly rant about school teachers – how they were overpaid, underworked, entitled whiners. I was baffled by this behaviour too – especially since so far as I knew JD didn’t even have any contact with teachers since he left high school. How did he know so much about them and their earnings and work schedules and benefits? And why did it bother him so much? Well Blog – guess what? I found out the “other” woman, who was also cheated on by JD, is a teacher.

Guilt makes us do crazy things sometimes, doesn’t it?

So now dear Blog whenever I hear of someone like Mr. Pence who has an unseemly interest in denouncing and controlling others’ behaviour or lifestyle, alarm bells sound in my head. I won’t be surprised if someday there is a very different story about him trending on Facebook.

Rock on,

The WB

Not Feelin’ the Hamsa Love Tonight

Why I am struggling so much with this piece?
Why I am struggling so much with this piece?

 

Dear Bloggie,

Jeez, I am frustrated tonight. Trying to make a Hamsa and just not feeling it.

Don’t understand why this is so. It should be right up my alley – blessings, warding off evil, offering protection, symbolic yada, yada, yada.

I think it is because I don’t have a definite theme or idea for the drawing. Guess I thought it would just magically happen once the pencil was in my hand.

Guess again, WB.

Will do some research and gather my thoughts and tackle this again tomorrow.

Rock on,

The WB

 

 

Just Call Me Ace

four-aces

Dear Blog,

I came across the most amazing article on my Facebook feed this morning. One that captures concisely and gives a name to the feelings (or more accurately, the lack of them) I have been experiencing over the past few years.

I’ve been thinking about how to write about this wondrous new stage of my life (my freedom from romantic and/or sexual needs) but I just couldn’t find the words. And I wondered if I should be even discussing such a thing. And here Katarina Thorsen has written the post for me – almost as if she was me!

I had questioned if this is what being asexual meant. I’ve read articles about this, and thought the term only applied to those who are of breeding age yet have no interest in romantic attachments. Not to someone who was once a sexual creature but had since grown past that stage. After reading Kat’s words, I can see that this is exactly what I am. An Ace (slang for asexual, I learned today!).

I have very clear memories of approaching puberty with complete dread. I was witnessing with horror friends who only a few days ago seemed perfectly sane, suddenly lose their minds over smelly, disgusting boys. Instead of wanting to play with me, they wanted to spend hours pouring over the pages of Tiger Beat magazine and arguing over who was cuter: David Cassidy or Donny Osmond? I was bored out of my mind by these sessions. I wanted my old friends back.

However, I knew that my turn was coming. Sure enough, within a few months I was as fascinated by those XY chromosome holders as the rest of my friends.

I hated the way my emotions starting riding a monthly roller coaster. I cried to my mother that I was going crazy. I really thought I was losing my mind, and I was so scared and dismayed. She assured me that what I was feeling was perfectly normal and that it would probably simmer down as time progressed. Dear Blog, it did.

She also told me that someday I will cease to menstruate (another thing I was hating, along with growing breasts and all that extra body hair). I held onto that thought like a lifeline thrown a drowning soul – YES! Someday I will get my pre-puberty mind back again…someday I will be ME again! Yeah, I’d still be stuck with the breasts and the armpit and pubic hair but I’d be used to them by then, I thought.

Well, naturally and eventually dear Blog, I did come to enjoy being a young woman and all of the pleasures and opportunities that afforded me. But when I was hurting from the actions or words of some male I was involved with or wanted to be with, I often thought of my pre-puberty mind and longed for the day when I no longer cared about their attentions.

I’ve been enjoying having ME back again for some time now. When I see people suffering from the agonies of romantic relationships (or the lack thereof), I feel like the sober, designated driver in a room full of drunks. One who was once a drunk herself.

This is my new theme song, I have decided:

Thanking Goddess every day for waking up feeling this way…Rock on!

The WB

 

 

 

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