Bought today...

What the heck.

December 5

"Cool Yule"

sung by Louis Armstrong (who else??!)

December 4

A Maiden Most Gentle

trad. French, arranged by Andrew Carter

sung by The Choir of King's College, Cambridge

A maiden most gentle and tender we sing,

Of Mary the mother of Jesus our King.

Ave Maria

How bless’d is the birth of her heavenly child,

Who came to redeem us in Mary so mild.

Ave Maria

The archangel Gabriel foretold by his call,

The Lord of creation and Saviour of all.

Ave Maria

Three kings came to worship with gifts rich and rare,

And marvelled in awe at the babe in her care.

Ave Maria

Rejoice and be glad at this Christmas we pray,

Sing praise to the Saviour sing end-less.

Ave Maria

Well, THAT explains a lot...

My lovely American readers?

Please talk amongst yourselves for a moment.

And Canada? Be frightened.

I sure am.

December 3

"Angel Playing Flageolet" by Edward Byrne-Jones, 1878

In Dulci Jubilo

sung by The Choir of King's College Chapel, Cambridge

The title of this beautiful carol is translated as "In Sweetest Rejoicing", but is commonly known in English as "Good Christian Men, Rejoice". It is a German/Latin macaronic carol that dates back to the fourteenth century. "Nun singet und seid froh" is said to have been written by the German mystic Heinrich Seuse in 1328. According to the folklore surrounding the carol, Seuse heard angel voices singing the words, and he joined them in a dance of worship.

This particular translation was written in 1837 by Robert Lucas de Pearsall, and in it he retains the original Latin, while switching the German lines to English:

In dulci jubilo

Let us our homage shew:

Our heart's joy reclineth

In praesepio;

And like a bright star shineth

Matris in gremio,

Alpha es et O!

O Jesu parvule,

I yearn for thee alway!

Hear me, I beseech Thee,

O puer optime;

My praying let it reach Thee,

O princeps gloriae.

Trahe me post te.

O patris caritas!

O Nati lenitas!

Deeply were we stained.

Per nostra crimina:

But Thou for us hast gained

Coelorum gaudia,

Qualis gloria!

Ubi sunt gaudia,

If that they be not there?

There are Angels singing

Nova cantica;

And there the bells are ringing

In Regis curia.

O that we were there!

There are Angels singing

And there the bells are ringing

In Regis curia.

O that we were there!

O that we were there!

December 2

"Snow"

from the movie "White Christmas"

sung by Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney,

Vera Ellen (voiced-over by Trudy Stevens) and Danny Kaye

Recently, the girlies and I have spent several lovely, quiet afternoons cutting the most beautiful paper snowflakes, which we are using to decorate our main-floor windows. Mother Nature seems to be taking the hint, and I spent a fair bit of time this afternoon shovelling out our drive, and walkways to the front and back doors... I'm all for a White Christmas, but my enthusiasm (and my lower back) will no doubt give out, come January 2nd... If I'm really good, maybe Santa will bring me a shiny red Toro snowblower. (Sadly, folks, this is what it is to be a Canadian... Some gals yearn for diamonds and lingerie. I'd settle for a snowblower and a pair of silk long johns.)

If you and yours would like to try making paper snowflakes, here is a website where you can down-load the most beautiful, lacy patterns:

http://www.papersnowflakes.com/patterns.htm

Enjoy!

Are you listening, Mr Paulson???!

December 1

"I Wish You Christmas"

by John Rutter

performed by The Cambridge Singers and the Farnham Youth Choir

Happiness is... December.

I'm so glad you've dropped by to listen to the first day of my annual "Musical Advent Calendar". If you are new to "I Can Fly, Just Not Up", then you will want to bookmark this site for the next month or so... Every day, I will be posting a new piece of Christmas music for your listening enjoyment. The player is up over there on the right of your screen-- just click on the little arrow button. Each selection will be available for you to hear for twenty-four hours, as many times as you'd care to listen.

The American author Bess Streeter Aldrich wrote, "Christmas Eve was a night of song that wrapped itself about you like a shawl. But it warmed more than your body. It warmed your heart... filled it, too, with a melody that would last forever."

That's what music-- and Christmas-- is all about: that incredible feeling of the lifting of the spirit. The cares and worries of the daily grind falling away, even if just for a few moments.

I hope that your daily visits here will help you to feel just that.

"I wish you music, I wish you song,

With voices echoing joyous and strong,

I wish you church bells ringing true and clear,

I wish you Christmas,

A Merry Christmas,

A Merry Christmas to remember all the year!"

Sae let the Lord be thankit.

Thanksgiving.

I remember my little Scottish grandmother not only on Thanksgiving (yes, both the Canadian and American Thanksgivings!), but on any holiday on which serving a "major meal" is involved.

My grandmother was a good, plain cook. And by that I mean that she cooked an abundance of family fare, and she did it with excellence. She could feed the entire brood of us-- and there are many, in our clan of "oatmeal savages". We would all eat hearty, in abundance, and push back from her table feeling satisfied, warmed-through, and most of all, loved.

When she was well into her eighties, she continued to cook turkey dinners whenever a few family members could be gathered together, even when her diminutive size and aching back made it difficult for her to hoist "The Bird" in and out of the oven. Indeed, on my last visit to her in her own home, she staunchly refused to allow me to assist her in any way with the meal. And, because she was Grandma-with-a-capital-G, I obeyed. I stood back, even as I saw her clearly struggling with that enormous, black roasting pan. And in watching her, I came to realize that the ritual was just as important to her as the people who gathered together to eat.

As we settled around her table, set with wedding china and the "Coronation" pattern silverware I can still feel in the palms of my hands... we would all bow our heads, and she would softly begin to recite the Selkirk Grace... her Grace, in the lilting brogue of her father's:

"Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it;

But we hae meat, and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be thankit."

The family would not stir, much less lift a fork, until Grandma had looked up. She would smile at us, and inquire:

"Who's like us?"

To which we would respond with a resounding:

"Damned few!!!!"

And then, we would enthusiastically tuck in, and feast till our skins felt tight.

Family dinners are not the same without her, but her memory lives on in her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. It is my own mother who recites the Grace, now, in a very different dining room, in a different part of the world. At this past Thanksgiving, she quietly asked me if I had learned the verse by heart, so that one day I would be able to "serve the family", as the eldest female member of my generation.

I have. And I will. I know in my heart the importance of family... of "passing down" the traditions, the memories, and most importantly, the love.

I am so thankful for all of it.

Wishing you all health, happiness, and love in abundance

on this day, and every day.

xo CGF

One month 'till Christmas...

Have you untangled your *$#@!! lights yet???

At Knit's End...

"I recognize that knitting can improve my mood in trying circumstances."

— Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, a.k.a. "The Yarn Harlot",

from her marvellous book

At Knit's End: Meditations for Women Who Knit Too Much

This past week, I've been making a concerted effort to "get me some happy", in advance of the onslaught of the Christmas holidays. For, as it turns out, it is impossible to "make merry" for those around you if you're not actually feeling merry, yourself.

I'm trying, people. In the face of all. this. mess. I'm really trying.

A good friend recently asked me whether I have been able to get back to doing any of the things that I have really enjoyed in the past. You know, for fun.

And it occurred to me, that "fun" is something I haven't felt capable of for a very, very long time now. The very idea of "enjoying myself" in the face of disaster just didn't seem right-- the guilt took any possible feelings of pleasure away.

How sad is that?

Too sad. Even for me.

There is no way out of all this but through, after all.

And if I have to keep pressing through, I might as well knit something while I'm at it.

I grabbed my friend by the arm on Saturday afternoon, and gave it a gentle twist... And the next thing we knew, we had swept ourselves over to our local knitting mecca, where we spent a surprisingly happy and relaxing few hours browsing through the stock, which is artfully arranged in floor-to-ceiling wall units that are always full to bursting. The owners know exactly what sort of stuff to put where-- what combinations of jewel-like colours will "sing" together, and which incredible textures will entice you to reach out your hand and stroke them... This is not just a yarn shop, but an other-worldly experience that awakens the senses, and entices you to imagine exactly what sort of marvellous creation each skein is crying out to become...

In spite of being on a budget, I confess. I came out laden with bags full of the most exquisite yarns, inspirational patterns, and beautiful bamboo needles that are easier on my hands and make a soft "swish" sound, rather than an annoying metallic "click" when I use them...

Yes, I had fun. Fun! And it felt great.

Almost as great as it has felt to start these projects:

Socks! I have always had a sock project on the go... and usually one on-the-needles and stuffed into my ridiculously large handbag, to whip out and fill time whenever I find a couple of minutes on my hands. The pair I am currently working on was actually begun in August, when all hell was beginning to break loose around here... We have dubbed them my "stress socks", and to be truthful, I'll probably have to throw them on a bonfire and get rid of them, once they're all done! No matter HOW gorgeous they may be...


A warm little sweater for Wee Three. She is my "sweater girl", and always cuddles up enthusiastically in whatever I make for her, without protest. The "Cabin Fever" pattern company has some spectacular designs that are available online from their website, and I cannot recommend them highly enough. Their "top-down" patterns are knit on the round in one piece, with nary a seam to stitch up when you're done! Miraculous. Easy. And gorgeous. What more could you want? Except perhaps the divinely soft green flecked yarn I bought to make it out of... I can't wait to see it on my littlest girlie, her brown eyes shining... She is already hounding me to "FINISH IT!!"

And last, but not least... The Scarf.

Anyone who is a true knitting devotee knows of The Yarn Harlot, a.k.a. Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, Canadian needlewoman extraordinaire. Well, recently she's been rhapsodizing on her blog about a certain scarf she simply cannot seem to put down, and after seeing pictures, I was hooked:

This is some of the most beautiful yarn I have ever had the pleasure of working with-- Noro Silk Garden; 45 silk /45 kid mohair/ 10 lambswool, and the colour that evolves as you work with it is simply spell-bindingly beautiful. The pattern is so simple, yet the results are spectacular. Like Stephanie, I simply cannot seem to put this project down, and if this keeps up, some lucky people are going to receive some very special hand-made Christmas presents this year... Or, maybe I'll feel so greedy and possessive of these divine, six-foot long creations, I'll just hoard them all for myself... It will be worth venturing out into the Great White North, simply for the pleasure of showing them off!

Yessirree.

I may be more than a little nutty these days... but still.

"Knit's End" has never looked so good.

A Joyful Noise

"St Cecilia"

by John Melhuish Strudwick

Today is the feastday of Saint Cecilia, who is the patron saint of musicians, and more specifically (and dear to my heart), church music. She is often represented in art with an organ, or holding organ-pipes in her hand.

And so, in her honour, I post one of my favourite pieces of music, played on the magnificent pipe organ at King's College Chapel, Cambridge, England. Turn up the volume, people, and enjoy!

The Toccata on Placare Christe Servulis Op. 38 No 14,

by Marcel Dupré, and played by Philip Ledger

"Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth:

make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise."

-Psalm 98

My Daughter, The Athlete.

Upon discovering Child Number One slouching lugubriously in her chair at the lunch table, wearing a foul expression:

Mother: What's up, Buttercup? Why the long face?

Child Number One: (mournfully) We have GYM CLASS this afternoon...

Mother: So?

Child Number One: (clearly exasperated) That's FIFTY MINUTES of my life I'll NEVER get back...

If she weren't so damn good at math, I'd swear I've cloned myself...

The Garden in Winter

Blow, blow, thou Winter Wind

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:

Most friendship if feigning, most loving mere folly:

Then heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,

That does not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:

Though thou the waters warp,

Thy sting is not so sharp

As a friend remember'd not.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:

Most freindship if feigning, most loving mere folly:

Then heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

--William Shakespeare

Sure on this Shining Night...

It's snowing.

A New Mantra.

Things have been a little too "heavy" around here, for way too long, folks.

So, I've made a conscious choice to do just this.

To give you a brief update on what's been happening around here in the "positive" department lately...

-I've spent the past month undertaking the Herculean task of applying for graduate school at five different universities. To date, all but one are written and submitted. After nearly twenty years, going back to "academic" writing has been more than a slightly daunting experience. But let me tell you, after hacking through all those pages and pages of essay questions, the way I figure it, if I manage to get accepted, the rest of the degree should be a breeze by comparison.

-I am spending most mornings volunteering in my children's public school, and have begun teaching an informal literacy program in the kindergarten classroom every Friday morning. I. Am. Loving. It. And so, have pitched two 10-week programs to our local library. Two branches have approved my curriculum so far, and it looks as though I'll be running programs on Saturday mornings, beginning in the spring and continuing through till the end of the summer.

-I have officially agreed to relinquish the title of Almighty Christmas Queen this year. For the first time in a long time, we will be "on the road" this holiday season, and will spend it in my childhood home with my family. It's going to be cramped, it's going to be more than slightly crazed... but it will be good to pass on the responsibility of Making the Holidays to someone else. And, let's face it, no matter how hard I try, no one does Christmas better than my mother.

-That said... even though Christmas seems to have arrived at a "bad time" (in my wee corner of the world, that is), I'm going to do my very best to rise to the occasion and celebrate with all of you again this year. Beginning December 1, I will again be posting a "Musical Advent Calendar" for your daily listening enjoyment. I have already started perusing my collection of Christmas carols, and plan to bring you many beautiful new selections, as well as a few of the best-received ones from last year.

Stay tuned, my friends...

Nooooooooooooo...

Need I say more?

In Remembrance.

The Floo'ers o' the Forest

I've heard the lilting, at the yowe-milking,
Lassies a-lilting before dawn o' day;
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning;
"The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away".

Dool and wae for the order sent oor lads tae the Border!
The English for ance, by guile wan the day,
The Flooers o' the Forest, that fought aye the foremost,
The pride o' oor land lie cauld in the clay.

I've heard the lilting, at the yowe-milking,
Lassies a-lilting before dawn o' day;
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning;
"The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away".

Although the original words are unknown, this melody was recorded in c. 1615-25 in the John Skene of Halyards Manuscript as "Flowres of the Forrest", though it may have been composed earlier. Several versions of lyrics have been added to the tune, but these are the words of Jean Elliot, who wrote them in 1756. It is the official lament of the Canadian Forces, played to honour fallen soldiers.

The Towing Path

Tow Path at Argenteuil, Winter c.1875

by Claude Monet

"The Towing Path"
by John Ireland, and performed by John Lenehan

"If music be the food of love, play on," the Great Poet wrote.

And so, in my family, we do.

Music, to us, is not only the food of love, music IS love. Music is an embodiment of love, between the person who plays, and the people who listen.

A few short weeks ago, when things seemed very, very gloomy for me, indeed, I packed up my little family in full-on "emergency mode", and headed home to my parent's house in Stratford. For there is nowhere on earth that carries the feeling of such calming reassurance for me, as the place where I grew up.

After a long drive, we arrived in the dark, with two out of three little girlies fast asleep in the back seat of the car. My mother gently led the two eldest upstairs, while I carried the comatose form of Wee Three. After changing them into their pyjamas, we tucked them into their beds-- the youngest ones curled up together, side-by-side, like two little kittens in a basket.

Downstairs once more, I poured my heart out to my parents, who sat at the kitchen table and listened. Once I had exhausted myself of frustrated monologue, my mother quietly got up and walked into the living room, where her beautiful baby grand piano stands in front of a picture window.

She sat down to play. She played this piece: a piece I hadn't heard since the very early days of my childhood. As her fingers gently brushed the keys, the melody filled the rooms of our house, and I felt some of the tension I had been carrying slowly begin to ebb away.

And I realized that she played because she and my father have no words for me at this difficult time. I have my own decisions to make, my own path that must be followed. But instead of sitting in silence, or trying to fill up the void with "small talk", playing this beautiful, soothing music was my mother's way of conveying how much she and my father will always love and support me.

"If music be the food of love, play on. Give me an excess of it..."

--William Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night"

Congratulations, America.

It's About Time.

"God bless us, every one!"

Thanksgiving, 2008

And yet... we must remember that we still have so very, very much to be thankful for.

Manners Maketh...

We were all sitting 'round the luncheon table in Stratford today, my mother having concocted a feast of pancakes with maple syrup and Canadian bacon, fresh from the local farmer's market.

I had spent the nearly three-hour car ride (through rush-hour traffic on Friday afternoon) whipping the girlies into shape... All three had been warned to be on their very best-est behavior, for the benefit of my overly-generous and long-suffering parents, who are hosting us for the weekend.

Having crammed themselves with as many pancakes as was "safe", their skins feeling sufficiently tight, Child Number Two and Wee Three were slightly taken aback when in response to their request to be excused from the table, my mother placed a banana in front of each of them for dessert:

Wee Three: (glowering blackly at the fruit) YUCK.

Child Number Two: (horrified by her little sister's lack of table manners) No, sweetie... You're supposed to say, "Yuck, PLEASE".

I must be doing something right with these kids... I'm just not exactly sure what...

Music for Today.

Hallelujah.

Finding Truth.

This past August, I was fortunate enough to attend an informal lecture given by the great American actor and director, F. Murray Abraham. Many of you will remember him as the "musical villain" Antonio Salieri in the 1984 film, Amadeus. And hopefully, some of you may also know what a truly generous (and genius) mentor and teacher he is, both in America, and abroad.

In his talk, Mr. Abraham spoke passionately about how tremendously important the theatre is to our society... Especially today, when the world has never been more turbulent, dangerous and confusing. He struck a chord in me, when he said that one of the main reasons he goes to the theatre, works in the theatre and CREATES theatre, is to attempt to discover "Truth". He said that in this day and age, when there is such a glut of information and "News" constantly bombarding us from all angles-- much of it inaccurate or downright lies-- it is often in the theatre, and very often in the ideas that new playwrights create, that he discovers the most Truth about the world in which we live.

I have been thinking about that lecture, and all of the wisdom that Mr. Abraham shared with us, a great deal this week. Because in all honesty, I am having a very, very hard time weeding out "Truth" from ANY of the news that I have been hearing and reading lately.

My little family and I are still in the throes of having to try and sort out our place in this outrageous mess that politicians and broadcasters have now finally termed "The Economic Crisis". (Honestly. It's as though they only just figured it out on Monday, for crying out loud.) Things in my little world feel like they're spiralling slowly but surely out-of-control, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it.

But, luckily, one of my closest friends boarded a plane and arrived for a visit on Monday. Travellor is a very "old", and very close friend of mine from a-waaaaay back... We originally met working the North American tour of "Phantom of the Opera", more years ago than either of us cares to remember. Being in his delightfully silly (but undeniably sweet) company always cheers me up. His visits give me an opportunity to talk about the past, and our shared love of all things Theatre.

For some reason, just as my dear friend strode through the arrival doors of the Toronto International Airport and wrapped me in a bear-hug... and ironically, JUST as the American Congress was rejecting a bill that we had been praying would be passed... A song from the musical "Cabaret" suddenly sprang into my mind.

Where it has been "playing" ever since.

It's an old song, with lyrics that my brother has often quoted to me, whenever one (or both) of us is frazzled and upset about something.

I have decided that this song- this snippet of truly marvellous theatre- is an example of what Mr. Abraham was talking about that day. Re-discovering this song was a discovery of Truth, for me.

So What?

(from the musical, Cabaret)

You say fifty marks, I say one hundred marks.

A difference of fifty marks.

Why should that stand in our way?

As long as the room's to let

The fifty that I will get

Is fifty more than I had yesterday!

When you're as old as I-- Is anyone old as I?

What difference does it make? An offer comes, you take!

For the sun will rise and the moon will set,

And you'll learn how to settle for what you get,

It'll all go on if we're here or not,

So, who cares, so what?

So, who cares, so what?

When I was a girl my summers were spent by the sea, so what?

And I had a maid doing all the house work, not me, so what?

Now I scrub up the floors, and I wash down the walls,

And I empty that chamber pot.

If it ended that way, then it ended that way,

And I shrug and I say, so what?

For the sun will rise and the moon will set,

And you'll learn how to settle for what you get,

It'll all go on if we're here or not,

So, who cares, so what?

So, who cares, so what?

When I had a man, my figure was dumpy and fat, so what?

Through all of our years he was so disappointed than that, so what?

Now I have what he missed and my figure is trim,

But he lies in a churchyard plot.

If it wasn't to be that he ever would see

The abundance of me, so what?

For the sun will rise and the moon will set

And you'll learn how to settle for what you get,

It'll all go on if we're here or not,

So, who cares, so what?

So, who cares, so what?

So, once I was rich, and now all my fortune is gone, so what?

And love disappeared, and only the memory lives on, so what?

If I've lived through all that, and I've lived through all that,

Fifty Marks doesn't mean a lot! If I liked that you're here,

And I like that you're here,

Happy New Year, my dear, so what!

For the sun will rise and the moon will set

And you'll learn how to settle for what you get,

It'll all go on if we're here or not,

So, who cares, so what?

So, who cares, so what?

It all goes on,

So, who cares?

Who cares?

Who cares?

So what?!

Yes, the sun will go on rising and setting, and the world will keep on turning, no matter what happens during the days and weeks to come... The question is, how long will it take for me to "learn how to settle" for whatever comes out of all of this mess?

I have no choice. I have no control.

Only time will tell.

A remarkable tribute to a Remarkable Man.

Philanthropist.

(And a magnificent actor, too.)

Paul L. Newman, 1925-2008

Please, listen.

This is not just a problem that is affecting the United States of America.

This is a problem that is affecting the entire world.

If not dealt with, swiftly and effectively...

I fear.

I fear for all of us.

Please, Washington. Invest in your country. Before it's too late.

A Lesson in New Life Skills.

For the past week, I have been absolutely riveted to CNBC, CNN, and BNN television networks. I have been trying my utmost to glean any and all information I can about the proposed "bail-out" that the Powers-That-Be are trying to create, in order to save the world economy from implosion.

I have been bombarding my husband with questions... Questions that, as it turns out, even HE doesn't know the answer to. Because, let's face it, no one has ever been through an historic event quite like the one that is taking place right now... And, unfortunately, there ain't no formal business qualification that can prepare you to have to deal with a situation like the one we find ourselves in.

Finally, The Husband had had enough of my pestering.

"You've got to stop it!!" he insisted, completely exasperated with me. "Stop watching!!"

How, I queried, shriekingly, could I POSSIBLY stop watching, when the outcome of the next few days will determine the course of our future?

"It's like this," he sighed, looking straight into my eyes. "Making up law like this is like making sausage."

I winced.

"Exactly," he continued. "If you watch the sausage-making process too closely, it gets pretty gross. So the best thing to do is just AVERT YOUR EYES, and let them get on with it. But, DON'T WATCH TOO CLOSELY. Or you might have an even harder time stomach-ing it later on."

Grudgingly, I agreed with him.

And I turned to my little girlies, and asked them what we could do for FUN, instead.

I kid you not, folks. THIS is what they came up with:


As it turns out, THIS is a GREAT way to spend a sunny afternoon:

Out in the garden, on the lawn... because it's much more pleasant if you don't have to listen to the loud clanging on the kitchen floor, every time somebody starts giggling so hard, the spoon falls OFF.

Big fun, people. BIG.

That is, unless you are ME.

Unlike my children who inherited my husband's cute-as-a-button, squoodgy little nose, which is perfectly designed to "hang" a teaspoon on...

I sport a hawking, aquiline schnozzzzz, bestowed upon me by my own overly-generous father.

A schnozzzzz, with solid BONE right. down. to. the. tip.

Which makes it IMPOSSIBLE to balance even the largest soup-ladle on.

(Believe me. We tried. Which added MUCH to the afternoon's hilarity, I assure you.)

They don't call me "Funny Girl" for nothin'.

I'm Still Here

Once again, my friends, I am overwhelmed. After removing this post this morning, as I had said I would, I had some time for reflection... And you know what? I've decided to leave it up.

Thank you for receiving my "news" with such overwhelming kindness and generosity of spirit. I received many, many lovely comments and emails yesterday, that lifted my spirits and truly made me feel that I am most definitely NOT alone. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I have saved every, single one, and will no doubt, be re-reading them often, in the days and weeks to come.

xoxo CGF

* * * * *

This is the post I've been avoiding.

The post where I try to explain where I've been, lo' these past many weeks.

And it's hard.

Because, as I mentioned several months ago, just as all hell around me was beginning to break loose: I don't "do" the needy, depressed, self-indulgent thing, as a rule. On the rare occasions that I do, I have a really, really hard time admitting that I'm feeling needy and depressed, except to my very closest circle of friends.

And, even with those friends... I have an even harder time admitting when what I really need is HELP.

I was brought up by two of the most wonderful, stoic and steadfast people on the planet. My parents were, and continue to be, pillars of strength. To be truthful, I never once saw them waver, throughout my entire childhood. They brought me up with the intention of empowering me with my own sense of strength. I have always striven to be the sort of grown-up that my parents wanted me to be... and worked so hard to shape me to be.

It's a wonderful thing, to know that you are Strong. It is a gift, to have a family that raises you up to believe that you can do anything, endure anything, survive anything. It makes you bold. It makes you confident. And it has helped to make me as a pretty well-adjusted (for the most part), happy person.

But, as it has turned out, lo' these past few months, I am not actually as strong as I thought I was. And even more amazingly, admitting that fact has not resulted in a cataclysmic end-of-the-world scenario.

My own little family and I have been through quite a time. It has actually been slowly spiralling downward for a little over a year now. When something like this happens, it often begins almost imperceptibly. You do your best to believe that things will get better, then make up your mind to carry on. You put out the little fires around you, scuff the dirt over them a bit, and keep going. Sure, there's some soot left on your shoes, but it's hardly noticeable to anyone around you.

The trouble is, sometimes those little fires don't go out completely. Sometimes they burst back into flames again, and with each larger recurrence, it gets harder and harder to put them out. Your feet get burned, and your hands, too. It hurts. But, if you're like me, you don't want to let on to anybody that you can't handle the pain and anxiety it's causing you.

The massive wildfire of the economic crisis is now blazing out-of-control in the United States, and the repercussions are affecting the entire world. It's been like watching a long, slow-motion train-wreck, with no caboose in sight. My husband and I are spent from the stress and exhaustion of trying to maintain our small family business during this terrible time. As things have become more and more irrational and negative in this world of ours, so has our own "little life".

The struggle we have been waging to stay afloat has taken a terrible toll on my physical and emotional health. It has also taken a toll on our marriage. And no matter how hard we try to hide our feelings and fears, all of this has taken a toll on our children, as well.

It has not been a happy time.

Being scared wears you down. Living in constant fear of the unknown-- fear of things that are happening around you that are completely beyond your control-- inevitably steals from your ability to be strong, or even to feign strength. I don't care if you're on Wall Street, or, like us, The Little Guy, trying to eke out a decent living in The Great White North.

Living this way eventually wears you down to the point where you just can't do it anymore.

It wore me down to the point where I "caved" by the end of the summer. The "role" I had been playing simply became too hard to portray anymore. The load became too heavy to carry by myself.

I went to my parents' home, handed over my three little girls, and lay down.

I couldn't get up again for nearly a week.

During those seven days, I really needed help. And I got it-- I got the compassion and support that I so desperately needed. Not just from my mum and dad, but from several close, trusted friends, as well.

It's been a long road "back". And I know in my heart that I'm probably nowhere near my actual destination... But I hope I'm on the right path-- for now, at least. There may well be a few unexpected detours in my future, still. I'll just have to wait and see.

Physically, I'm doing better. I've gained back some of the 25 pounds that "worried" off of me, almost imperceptibly (to me, at least). I've got a few more grey hairs, but at least it's not falling out anymore.

Emotionally, it's still a bit touch-and-go at times. But, with the tremendous support of the circle that I was able to "let-in" on my troubles, I'm getting there. I'm talking about it a bit more, and not feeling as though admitting that the panic and fear that I carry is such a colossal failure in my own character. I'm not just living day-to-day anymore, but minute-to-minute, and second-to-second. And I'm really trying hard to forgive myself for having to exist this way, for now.

I used to be the five-year-planner... The person who could always be depended upon to arrange things, and take up causes, and throw major events... Now, I'm teaching myself to be "okay" with letting other people take up these mantles, and cutting myself a break. I don't have to be The One, anymore.

I'm concentrating on other things, instead.

On a course that I'm taking, which will qualify me to be a specialized teacher of people with learning disabilities (I hope to be able to begin taking students before Christmas).

On my children, who continue to be my life's delight, and who are thrilled that mummy's smile is being seen a lot more frequently these days (hell, who WOULDN'T smile at a four-year-old who is loudly singing the new Sunday School hymn, "He's Got The Whole World In His Pants"?!)

On my family, who have been more supportive than I ever could have imagined... And most especially my brother, who has, at long last, ended his world-travels and now lives a blissfully short distance away (let all the Little Girlies in residence say, "SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!"... and this Big Girl, too, actually...)

And, last but not least, I'm trying to concentrate a little bit more on Me.

Myself, The Person. Not just "The Mum", or "The Wife", or even "The One Who Cooks and Cleans and Drives and Does The Laundry". But rather, The Person I used to be before all of this-- the one with interests and ideas, and needs of her own. Maybe needs that I never even realized I had. Amazingly-- to me, anyway-- needs that are important, and deserve to be fulfilled.

It's all still strange and unfamiliar territory, these days.

And more than a little bit scary, sometimes.

But, I'm still me.

I'm still here.

I've run the gamut, A to Z,

Three cheers, and dammit,

C'est la vie!

I got through all of last year... And I'm here...

Lord knows at least I was There,

And I'm Here! Look who's Here!

Counting Blessings...

Good Mother

Written by Jann Arden Richards and Robert Foster

I've got money in my pocket

I like the color of my hair

I've got a friend who loves me

Got a house, I've got a car

I've got a good mother

and her voice is what keeps me here

Feet on ground

Heart in hand

Facing forward

Be yourself

I've never wanted anything

I've, no I've, I've never wanted anything

so bad

Cardboard masks of all the people I've been

thrown out with all the rusted, tangled, dented

God Damned miseries

You could say I'm hard to hold

But if you knew me you'd know

I've got a good father

And his strength is what makes me cry

Feet on ground

Heart in hand

Facing forward

Be yourself

I've never wanted anything

I've, no I've, I've never wanted anything

so bad

I've got money in my pocket

I like the color of my hair

I've got a friend who loves me

Got a house, I've got a car

I've got a good mother

and her voice is what keeps me here

Feet on ground

Heart in hand

Facing forward

Be yourself

Heart in hand

Feet on ground

Facing forward

Be yourself...

Just be yourself.

Is that a light I see at the end of the tunnel??

I just hope and pray it's not another on-coming freight train...

Today's music is one of my favourite "train-inspired" songs... Crank it up, my friends!

Especially YOU, Travellor. And YOU, Buddy.

And my DLB. And the divine Mrs. G.

And you, too, Mrinz. And Nan. And Shauna. And Canape. And Karly.

And Painted Maypole, of course. And Leann. And the expectant-any-moment MTM, along with wunderhusband SciFi Dad. And my "old" friend Prairie Preacher.

This is for all of you, my friends-- and all of the rest of you, whom I am too scatter-brained and exhausted to remember and provide links to this morning...

Thank you for being "out there" for me.

Here's a little bit of "bling" for each and every one of you-- it was awarded to me several weeks ago by the lovely Nan, of "Things I've Found In Pockets". I have been as remiss in extending my heartfelt thanks to her, as I have been in passing the award on.

Paste it into your sidebars, and know how much I appreciate you.

xo CGF

Still trying to find a "bright side"...

"It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily.

"So it is."

"And freezing."

"Is it?"

"Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."

--from A. A. Milne's "Winnie the Pooh"

I am still here, my friends... it's just taking time to sort some things out.

I'll be back. Promise.

Miss you. xo CGF