Skittering across the ever-changing surface of the ocean
Blue jays in the pine trees
Flitting about, a never-ending hunt
All the lives under the surface
Their mysterious ways of surviving
Nature is thriving, not just surviving
Despite our best efforts
And it doesn’t, to our knowledge, have the capacity to experience joy
That bubbly lightness that expands your rib cage
That makes you repeat, over and over – wow!
There is no word strong enough,
That adequately describes that feeling
That appreciation for being alive,
For our many blessings,
Despite, or because of, our challenges
Those moments can be fleeting and far between
But what magic to experience them at all
It’s never enough,
No matter how much we try to appreciate each amazing moment
In this miraculous life
But it’s all we can do
And aren’t we lucky?
Check out my gorgeous Mohawk and bright blue tail feathers.
Look at me dance. How can you resist?
Feed me! No. We didn’t, but he was sure cute!
For the right price, I might reveal our secret escape. 😏
Seriously though, the chance to go away for three nights with no distractions and such an inspiring view is why we return as often as we can. We originally came on our honeymoon, but at that point we could only afford one night and spent the rest of our honeymoon in a cabin beside a clearcut. 😳
We are so grateful for every minute we get to spend here. We were more reflective because we were celebrating my husband’s 50th birthday (SAY WHAAAAAT???) and we have a long history to celebrate. We appreciate every single moment.
I was sitting in the back room at Marg’s tea house, a converted bungalow where we could hide out and smoke without worry of getting busted by prefects or teachers. Marg, the wizened old lady (she was probably my age now 🤣🤣🤣) would run to the back room and warn us so we could scurry into her basement until the coast was clear.
I was rewriting my French notes, my Walkman playing a Metallica tape, hating boarding school life, school on Saturdays and wearing a uniform. I always hid my short kilt under my giant blue flea market sweater, so only an inch peeked out the bottom. There had been an unusually heavy snow fall for Vancouver Island, so I also had my wooly blue tights on, which turned out to be a stroke of good luck.
I had just lit another Winston (🤢-how did I ever??) when someone walked in. I bit back a growl at having my solitude invaded, privacy was the commodity I missed most, until I saw who it was.
Then, my heart picked up speed at the same time my stomach did a weird somersault. I flashed him a quick smile and looked back down at my notes. What was he doing there? I’d never seen him there before, I’d only seen him a few times around campus. Always with a different girl.
I tried to ignore him but then my tape ended and the Walkman shut off with a loud click. As I fumbled to switch the tape to the other side, he came over to bum a smoke. Next thing I knew, he was sitting at my table and we were talking and joking around like we’d known each other forever.
It all ended with me ‘stealing’ his wallet, and him dumping me in a snow bank. And that was the beginning of everything…
“The colors of the world are changing, day by day.” Les Misérables
This poem is in response to the prompts for the 50 Word Thursday challenge #6 hosted by Teresa atThe Haunted Wordsmith. Give it a try, you might surprise yourself!
Rules:
1. Find the muse within the photo or line provided and follow where it leads. It can be a story, anecdote, poem. Anything!
2. Story must be between 50 and 250 words, in 50 word increments.
3. Link back to this post with the tag 50WordThurs so that everyone can find it, or post your response in the comments section on Teresa’s site.
I am sure there are things that can’t be cured by a good bath but I can’t think of one.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
It’s a bird… it’s a plane…it’s a… tub on my front lawn. I should have sat in it.
It didn’t take long to rip out the old slime tub. Happily, there was no damage from the leaking. So, straightforward, right?
The new tub was supposed to be ready on Friday and I pictured myself having all weekend to enjoy it. Of course, there were complications and they had to come finish on Monday. So I had to wait until Tuesday, and the anticipation was killing me.
I got out my new bath pillow, tub caddy and even bought season 4 of Outlander. Bliss here I come…
And then I got in. And I tried to enjoy it, I really did. The Outlander was great, but it was hard to concentrate on it because I could hear the water dumping down the overflow. It eventually stopped, unless I moved in any way.
By the time the water finally stopped escaping out the very low overflow, I was hardly submerged. Not to mention, I have never been accused of blocking anyone’s view in the theatre at 5’3″ on a tall day, but I couldn’t fit my body into that tub in any comfortable way that would keep at least 50% of me covered.
This is how much water was left when I got out.
Instead of this…It felt like this.
Ummm… yeah. Awkward.
This is not a tub, it’s a stub.
The problem was, I had been diligent in going and planting my butt in every tub in town. I finally picked one, went with the designer to order it and everything else. It was only once they sent the estimate that they mentioned the tub unit would take 6 months to arrive!
So the designer got on the horn and asked them to recommend a similar tub that wouldn’t take so long. Out of the two options, I picked the one I liked better from the pictures. I didn’t go see it, or sit in it.
TIP: Always sit in the tub. Always. Always. Always.
I have been dealing with overwhelming depression and anxiety for the last few weeks, so the thought of speaking up and telling the designer I wasn’t happy was almost impossible. But the thought of accepting a sub-standard, too small tub after waiting for so long was creating even more anxiety. Good times.
TIP: Hiring a designer is worth every penny.
I tried the tub one more time then I emailed her. I got all trembly and stupid because my MS goes haywire when I get nervous, but at the same time some of the anxiety was alleviated even before she responded.
Instead of swirling in the ugly of ‘should I?’, I moved into action and it helped.
What helped even more was that my lovely designer got back to me right away and said exactly the right things. She got the bathroom place to start scouting out longer, deeper tubs in stock close by. She asked if I would consider tiling because that would give us more options. I had originally wanted tile but thought I wanted to avoid cleaning grout. Truth is, I cheaped out.
I was prepared to swallow the installation cost in order to get things done right, but she’s also getting in touch with the right people to get a refund. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Go back and read that last tip again. 😊
So, I didn’t really want to call this part 2 because it’s more like 1.5. But there is no terrible renovation story here, really.
1) She had the foresight to only demo the tub, the rest of the bathroom was left intact.
2) We have a working tub again, for the first time in 3 years. I’m really happy I didn’t sit in it on my front lawn or I might still have a big hole in my bathroom.
3) There is no damage from the old leaky tub, the pipes had just separated from the volume of sludge (read part 1 here) so when the tub had the weight of water and a person in it, the water would leak out the seams and run down the outside of the drain pipe.
4) My designer is taking on the battle for me, dealing with all the logistics. It’s off my plate but I will end up with a bathroom that we’ll be happy with for years to come.
5) Using the tub and handheld shower with no curtain, reminds of when I lived in Paris in 1994. So many fun memories, I had to dig out the pictures.
View from the apartment where I lived free for six months, thanks to the generosity of friends.I slept on the lumpy red velvet couch in this room. Oh to be 23 again!
Talk about a tangent. Anyway, all is well that hasn’t ended yet. Wait, that’s not how it goes. 😋 Right now, we’re in limbo but with a mostly functioning bathroom until I pick and order a new tub then wait for it to arrive. All of us spoonie warriors are experts at the mental limbo, it’s where we live our lives. I got this.
As far as the mental health, I gave myself a few days to rest and read and nothing else, now I’m back to pushing myself to get out of bed and accomplish one minor task, which usually leads to a bigger one.
For example, I really didn’t feel like writing this blog post so I told myself to just upload the pictures. I started with that, and then the words came. They didn’t want to when I just tried thinking about it.
Walk a Myelin* My Shoes 