It's a new year and that means a blank page. I like blank pages - so much so that I've only ever journaled once in my life. It made me unhappy to ruin a blank page so I quit.
I think it's about potential. A blank page, a roll of uncut fabric, a small child - they all have so many possibilities! A new year is like that too. But while I may be able to leave my journal blank, the year will go on whether I make my mark on it or not. And I do like looking back and seeing what happened. So let's get to it and see what 2011 will be!
It's full of potential, I'm sure.
P.s. For New Year's Eve, here's how I ruined a page in my sketch book ...
I remember a commercial years back where a gorgeous brunette is sitting at a restaurant table, with her head lightly resting on one hand. She is saying things like "Would you like to come over tonight?", "How about 7?", "It would just be us." and words to that effect. The (slightly nerdy) guy at the next table thinks she is talking to him. Of course, the point of the commercial was how small cell phones are becoming.
Since then, they have become even smaller. And with "hands free" headsets, etc, it can be hard to know who a person is talking to. It's become very common place to see someone walking down an aisle, talking and waving both hands to emphasis their point. Or marching down the street doing the same. So much so that it really doesn't occur to me to suspect anything unusual. (Except a possible lack of manners. Which may not be entirely unusual either.)
So imagine the shock when a fairly nicely dressed woman was carrying on a conversation in front of me while shopping the other day, and I realized SHE HAD NO PHONE.
It's the bizarrest thing. We just finished Thanksgiving in America yesterday and as I was talking on the phone with a friend this morning, I kept hearing Canadian coming out of my mouth!
I've lived here long enough that I felt pretty confident that many of the "Canadianisms" I've lived with had pretty much receded into the background. I don't tack on too many "ehs", and I think my "outs" and "abouts" are changing shape to a more local pattern. I'm teased about "bits" but I've hung onto that one deliberately and I still spell "cheques" with a "q" just because I like it better. Looks classier or something.
I mean, really, doesn't it sound better to say the "cheque" is in the mail rather than the "check" is in the mail? Or maybe that's just the Canadian reaction I have that links "checks" with slamming into rink boards.
Anyway, as I was saying, I have been noticing that fewer people are looking at me with that curious look that invariable ends with "Where exactly are you from?" Not that I sound particularly American (except to that one dear man in the senior's home in Saskatoon) but I think of it as sounding rather more generic. Like the Midwestern accent they reportedly try to teach to Indian people working for HP customer support.
The challenge is - I now HEAR a Canadian accent. Not just the distinct tones of the eastern "a" vowel, but the nuances that mark one as distinctly north-of-the-49th. And I HEARD it coming out of my mouth!!
I'm not sure whether to consider it nostalgic or alarming. But I'm looking forward to Christmas and to calls from family and friends that sound like home. And with Thanksgiving out of the way, I can be vocal about looking forward to it, too.
So Merry Christmas, eh? And here's a taste of Canadian for you:
It's sniffle time of year again and I happened to sneeze as we were driving somewhere the other day. Aside: FYI, I am not, nor have I ever been, a dainty sneezer. Try as I might, I still worry about closed windows overpressurizing when I feel a sneeze coming on. It would seem it is physically impossible to re-learn to sneeze. Sort of like keeping your eyes open when you sneeze.Can't be done.Unless you know something I don't know... Anyways, this sneeze was a particularly enthusiastic blast and without much thought I said, "Excuse me. Almost lost my eyeballs on that one."
After a moment of silence, a small voice came from the backseat.
I've undertaken the massive project of de-stuffing my house. Partly the need arose because we've lived in this house BY FAR longer than we've ever lived in one location before. I didn't realize that moving had become a way to clean my closets up until now.
Partly, the need arose through the fact that I've been helping a friend get ready to move for the last three months. She has a lot of STUFF. Her STUFF is much higher quality that my STUFF but it still left me with the nasty feeling that this was going to be my life in 30 years if I didn't do something about it NOW.
So while SG was out of town I began by emptying our walk in closet. And slept in the studio for 3 nights.
I discovered something that I'd know for awhile but had managed to fairly successfully repress. I'm a packrat. Don't know why but do know I can't deny it any longer.
Or maybe I do know why. It defies common sense to say that I need 1 cup hook (for instance) so I buy a package of 6. I use one and leave 5 stashed in a drawer. After two years, I throw out/donate/pawn-off-on-unsuspecting-friends the 5 hooks. Then, one week after getting rid of them, I need 1. So I buy a package of 6. See how this goes?
So now I'm looking at 2 Christmas ornaments, a piece of blue plastic that broke off a toy train that I'm pretty sure we got rid of but hate to throw it out until I'm POSITIVE we got rid of it, a wooden star that came off the end of a wall hanging rod that served as a fairy wand when the star I'm holding came off but is still in the house somewhere, an odd sock (I've a basket for those somewhere) and a Ziploc bag of random buttons.
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