It's Labour Day today in Canada, same in the United States. As surely as May 24 Weekend/Victoria Day (Canada) and Memorial Day (US) mark the "beginning" of summer, so does this day mark its "end" in both countries. Mind you, there's another three or so weeks left in the actual season as it relates to the Earth's settings, the autumnal equinox falls on September 23rd this year.
Children are either heading back to school this week, or are already there in some cases. Back-to-school shopping is the major expense for parents around this time, and children contemplate whether they are happy or sad that their holidays are over. In Jamaica, it is time for adults to throw around the particularly odious phrase (or, at least, it was to me when I was a student), "Free paypa bun!" (Your free papers are burnt). It used to imply to me that school was some sort of prison your parents sent you to, one of which you were particularly deserving, if for no other reason than you were under-aged and someone else was in charge of your life. Well, joke was on them. I loved school, and looked forward to returning.
This particular summer was less than halcyon, though. Aside from the two weeks we spent in Jamaica, the temperature never rose above 30 *C on consecutive days. I found it particularly offensive this year to hear people complain about how "hot" it was. I might have thought that two years into living in northern ON I would be immune to such statements by now, but indeed my resentment was much worse this year. "Honestly, we have seven months of winter/cold weather, is that not enough for you?", I wonder. I guess some people would complain no matter what kind of weather we have. I find it alarming to realise that several days found me wearing layers, long sleeves, and even sweaters, with temperatures averaging around 10 *C below seasonal averages.
The last three days have been rainy, and grey. I was unable to take Nipper for a long walk yesterday, as much of the day it poured with heavy rains. Towards late afternoon the rain and clouds did clear and let in some sunshine, but this morning was heavily overcast, and the rain started again this afternoon. We managed to get in our weekday half-hour walk this morning, but I spent a lot of it looking at the skies and hoping they wouldn't open up on us while we were still some way from home.
I am hoping that we get a late summer heatwave, the mythical "Indian summer", but I am not holding my breath. All the signs are pointing to a swiftly-coming, long, cold winter. Indeed, there were trees sporting fall colours by the end of July!
Fall is bringing with it new challenges for me, and I am very hopeful that meeting these challenges will take me in new directions. I have been working on getting back into waking early, and will need this "ability" even more as the month of September progresses. The daylight periods will continue shortening, but my "days" will be even longer, and I will need full energy and enthusiasm to take them on.
If summer was only about hot weather and wearing less clothing, I would say I didn't have much of one. As it is also about a break from routine and getting ready for new things, then I will say I had quite the summer, short though it was.
Monday, September 1, 2014
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Vacation and Anniversary 2014
For our anniversary this year, G surprised me with tickets to Jamaica...in February. A little far ahead, but still, it was exciting to think of going home after two years, and celebrating our anniversary on the beach!
Well, it was exciting once we were finally on our way, but leading up to it, I was trying very hard not to be overwhelmed with planning and executing so we would have a smooth trip. I like traveling by air, enjoy the experience for itself and not just that I get to a specific destination. G is, of course, entirely about "Why aren't we there already?".
In the week leading up to leaving, I organized ruthlessly, planning and revising as I went along, to ensure that we left on time for the drive to Toronto (requesting a morning shift where I usually work afternoons), that I only had the necessities in my bags to avoid charges for extra luggage (extensive lists of what I needed, revised often), purchasing currency to ensure we had Jamaican funds on hand rather than relying on credit cards, and on, and on.
Underlying all this planning, though, was an anxiety that ratcheted higher and higher the closer we got to leaving. I was trying to control it, by doing what I always do, trying to pin every detail down. My fears came to nought, and our trip went as well as can be expected.
I was so happy to see my brothers again. My younger brother collected us at the airport, and immediately drove us to Burger King on Gloucester Avenue, exactly where I wanted to go for lunch. I have had a burger from BK exactly once in the last two years. This one was everything I needed it to be. I was home.
We spent the two weeks at my Mom's house in Sheffield. This started off somewhat inauspiciously, as my Mom was in Florida visiting my older brother, and basically left her house looking as though she had left with no notice at all, and did not intend to return. I spent 3 days cleaning and organizing her house to suit myself, and thought long and hard about whether the woman who raised me to believe that "Cleanliness is next to godliness" taught me that because she believed it or because she felt it was something she had to teach me as a good parent (something she became before she was probably ready for it) and had simply dropped the philosophy now that she had no-one living at home with her.
The rest of the time we spent on the beach at Alfred's. Being known there means being able to get what you like to drink without needing to ask for it, and having some of the most incredible views up and down the beach a few steps away from the bar.
For our anniversary, we stayed overnight at Alfred's, and went to a restaurant a little further along the beach. The meal did not live up to expectations, but we made the best of it. I also got my hair cut short for our anniversary. Finally, after 5 long years, G and I compromised and I was able to go short. Not as short as I wanted, but at least I could get it cut, not just trimmed. I had grown weary of long hair, and frustrated with how much time and attention it required to care for it, as I usually do after a few years of keeping it long. Once again, I have hair I can wash without worrying about how long it takes to dry, and that needs no styling to get into bed so that I do not wake with a crick in my neck.
If the first week went by slowly in a daze of heat and sun and sand, the second week sped up and went by like any normal week. Before I was quite ready for it, we were organizing and packing our things to return to Canada. By focusing yet again on the small details involved (did I want to bring this large Jane Austen compendium back with me, what would it do to the weight of my suitcase, what about my other book collections, like my Tolkien paperbacks?), I was able to ignore the thoughts about homesickness and how I would feel once I was back on the plane and headed for Canada.
Honestly? It felt like coming home to be back. Even Toronto and southern Ontario, which I see so seldom, felt familiar and welcoming. Jamaica had been the same as I left it (roads slightly worse than ever, prices higher than ever), and Canada had become familiar enough in two years to feel as though I was also coming home. Last January, returning from my uncle's funeral in New York, I had simply been coming back to G, this was where I lived now, and that was that. This July, I was coming home, from being home. It's an awesome and profound feeling, I imagine, to realise that you are at home in more than just the country you were born in.
In the week since we've been back, I have been focusing on my priorities for the rest of the year. I need to schedule some time to look at what has been accomplished in the first 6 months of the year, and where I want to be at the end of the next 6 months, the first half of my 39th year of life. I'll probably get that done on my birthday, a few days from now. I usually like to reflect as I mark each year, and aim to make time for that once again.
Well, it was exciting once we were finally on our way, but leading up to it, I was trying very hard not to be overwhelmed with planning and executing so we would have a smooth trip. I like traveling by air, enjoy the experience for itself and not just that I get to a specific destination. G is, of course, entirely about "Why aren't we there already?".
In the week leading up to leaving, I organized ruthlessly, planning and revising as I went along, to ensure that we left on time for the drive to Toronto (requesting a morning shift where I usually work afternoons), that I only had the necessities in my bags to avoid charges for extra luggage (extensive lists of what I needed, revised often), purchasing currency to ensure we had Jamaican funds on hand rather than relying on credit cards, and on, and on.
Underlying all this planning, though, was an anxiety that ratcheted higher and higher the closer we got to leaving. I was trying to control it, by doing what I always do, trying to pin every detail down. My fears came to nought, and our trip went as well as can be expected.
I was so happy to see my brothers again. My younger brother collected us at the airport, and immediately drove us to Burger King on Gloucester Avenue, exactly where I wanted to go for lunch. I have had a burger from BK exactly once in the last two years. This one was everything I needed it to be. I was home.
We spent the two weeks at my Mom's house in Sheffield. This started off somewhat inauspiciously, as my Mom was in Florida visiting my older brother, and basically left her house looking as though she had left with no notice at all, and did not intend to return. I spent 3 days cleaning and organizing her house to suit myself, and thought long and hard about whether the woman who raised me to believe that "Cleanliness is next to godliness" taught me that because she believed it or because she felt it was something she had to teach me as a good parent (something she became before she was probably ready for it) and had simply dropped the philosophy now that she had no-one living at home with her.
The rest of the time we spent on the beach at Alfred's. Being known there means being able to get what you like to drink without needing to ask for it, and having some of the most incredible views up and down the beach a few steps away from the bar.
For our anniversary, we stayed overnight at Alfred's, and went to a restaurant a little further along the beach. The meal did not live up to expectations, but we made the best of it. I also got my hair cut short for our anniversary. Finally, after 5 long years, G and I compromised and I was able to go short. Not as short as I wanted, but at least I could get it cut, not just trimmed. I had grown weary of long hair, and frustrated with how much time and attention it required to care for it, as I usually do after a few years of keeping it long. Once again, I have hair I can wash without worrying about how long it takes to dry, and that needs no styling to get into bed so that I do not wake with a crick in my neck.
If the first week went by slowly in a daze of heat and sun and sand, the second week sped up and went by like any normal week. Before I was quite ready for it, we were organizing and packing our things to return to Canada. By focusing yet again on the small details involved (did I want to bring this large Jane Austen compendium back with me, what would it do to the weight of my suitcase, what about my other book collections, like my Tolkien paperbacks?), I was able to ignore the thoughts about homesickness and how I would feel once I was back on the plane and headed for Canada.
Honestly? It felt like coming home to be back. Even Toronto and southern Ontario, which I see so seldom, felt familiar and welcoming. Jamaica had been the same as I left it (roads slightly worse than ever, prices higher than ever), and Canada had become familiar enough in two years to feel as though I was also coming home. Last January, returning from my uncle's funeral in New York, I had simply been coming back to G, this was where I lived now, and that was that. This July, I was coming home, from being home. It's an awesome and profound feeling, I imagine, to realise that you are at home in more than just the country you were born in.
In the week since we've been back, I have been focusing on my priorities for the rest of the year. I need to schedule some time to look at what has been accomplished in the first 6 months of the year, and where I want to be at the end of the next 6 months, the first half of my 39th year of life. I'll probably get that done on my birthday, a few days from now. I usually like to reflect as I mark each year, and aim to make time for that once again.
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Marking Year 2
As of yesterday, I've been in Canada for two years. I want to wonder at how quickly the time went, but that would be almost too cliche at this stage, right? I mean, it's only been two years. Of the sum total of my life, that's 1/19th of the whole. I suppose it is how much has been packed into the last two years that makes it seem like such a long time that has somehow gone by really quickly.
It was a very normal day, my two-year anniversary. Normal in the sense that mundane events of my life were represented: I got up, showered, ate breakfast, went to work, took a break for lunch, completed my shift, came home, made dinner, ate it, went to bed.
A few things here and there were out of the "normal": I had to be at work a few minutes earlier to participate in a 2 hour training session meant to prepare us for upcoming changes to operations in the fall. Interesting stuff, I am looking forward to engaging fully with those changes. More and more, I am coming to see this job as part and parcel of my life here, not just something to make money at until I find a job similar to what I used to do in Jamaica, because that is highly unlikely. I do enjoy my work environment, the work I do is repetitive but the human element guarantees that it is never boring, and though chances for advancement are small to non-existent at this time, I think in the long-term there are possibilities.
Another not-so-normal occurrence is the inescapable conclusion that I have developed carpal tunnel syndrome (CTS). I was familiar with this condition only in the vaguest possible way, a former manager was afflicted with it but I never cared enough to ask what the symptoms or treatments were. Around two weeks ago, though, I began to be plagued by an annoying tingling pain sensation in my right thumb, fore and middle fingers. At first I dismissed the sensation as possibly resulting from a minor infection of a puncture wound to my thumb caused by a sharp surface at work. When it spread to my fingers, and remained concentrated in the tips of all three, I thought perhaps I had scalded them one evening while doing the dishes by running the water too hot. When I noticed the sensation was actually especially bad in the wee hours when I would get up with Nipper to let him outside to toilet, I was baffled. The last straw was going to a workout with my personal trainer and finding that my usually stronger right hand had a painfully weaker grip somehow.
I conferred with a friend who is a certified radiologist, asked Google what were possible causes, and they both agreed on CTS. The more I read the symptoms described on WebMD, and the more my friend talked about the anatomy of the hand and why my wrist and fingers would feel as they did, the more convinced I was that they were perfectly correct. As of yesterday, I am wearing a wrist brace, especially while sleeping or using the computer, to relieve the pressure on the median nerve and hopefully return my hand to unencumbered working order.
It's beautiful outside most days these days. If you discount the blackflies and mosquitoes. Last Saturday, G decided it was safe to refresh the garden for this year, so we drove out to the garden centre to get some new plants. I chose to get a variety of herbs, as I have always wanted to have fresh herbs available. I picked out the plants according to the refrain of a song, for some reason I can't remember the movie I heard it in, but I cannot forget the line, "Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme". We could not get thyme as another customer bought all they had left at the time, but got the other three. In addition, we bought lemongrass (which we call fever grass in Jamaica) and basil. I barely managed to avoid being eaten alive by the mosquitoes, and complained to G the entire way home that mosquitoes in Jamaica did not attack during the daytime! Over the course of last weekend, he weeded the garden, planted my herbs and his shrubs and flowers, and I zapped the dandelions and crab grass with Weed-B-Gon. Between us we have dozens of insect bites, but we're quite happy with the garden and lawn.
In two weeks' time, it will officially be summer. I suppose eventually I will get used to the abbreviated spring here, and hope that summer is not often abbreviated like it was last year when the leaves were turning to fall colours as early as the first week in August! I suppose that should have been a warning about just how bad this past winter was going to be, but having not seen a winter that brutal in as much as a decade, even people like G who have lived in E.L. for longer than that were taken by surprise. As much as I like the changing of the seasons and consider it one of the best features of living in Canada, last winter was just brutally cold for days on end, to the point where I teetered on the edge of losing my joy in the season. As a consequence, I am consciously trying to revel in the spring (such as it is), summer and fall this year.
In leaving, I close with some of the beauties that sprung up in the garden this year:
It was a very normal day, my two-year anniversary. Normal in the sense that mundane events of my life were represented: I got up, showered, ate breakfast, went to work, took a break for lunch, completed my shift, came home, made dinner, ate it, went to bed.
A few things here and there were out of the "normal": I had to be at work a few minutes earlier to participate in a 2 hour training session meant to prepare us for upcoming changes to operations in the fall. Interesting stuff, I am looking forward to engaging fully with those changes. More and more, I am coming to see this job as part and parcel of my life here, not just something to make money at until I find a job similar to what I used to do in Jamaica, because that is highly unlikely. I do enjoy my work environment, the work I do is repetitive but the human element guarantees that it is never boring, and though chances for advancement are small to non-existent at this time, I think in the long-term there are possibilities.
Another not-so-normal occurrence is the inescapable conclusion that I have developed carpal tunnel syndrome (CTS). I was familiar with this condition only in the vaguest possible way, a former manager was afflicted with it but I never cared enough to ask what the symptoms or treatments were. Around two weeks ago, though, I began to be plagued by an annoying tingling pain sensation in my right thumb, fore and middle fingers. At first I dismissed the sensation as possibly resulting from a minor infection of a puncture wound to my thumb caused by a sharp surface at work. When it spread to my fingers, and remained concentrated in the tips of all three, I thought perhaps I had scalded them one evening while doing the dishes by running the water too hot. When I noticed the sensation was actually especially bad in the wee hours when I would get up with Nipper to let him outside to toilet, I was baffled. The last straw was going to a workout with my personal trainer and finding that my usually stronger right hand had a painfully weaker grip somehow.
I conferred with a friend who is a certified radiologist, asked Google what were possible causes, and they both agreed on CTS. The more I read the symptoms described on WebMD, and the more my friend talked about the anatomy of the hand and why my wrist and fingers would feel as they did, the more convinced I was that they were perfectly correct. As of yesterday, I am wearing a wrist brace, especially while sleeping or using the computer, to relieve the pressure on the median nerve and hopefully return my hand to unencumbered working order.
It's beautiful outside most days these days. If you discount the blackflies and mosquitoes. Last Saturday, G decided it was safe to refresh the garden for this year, so we drove out to the garden centre to get some new plants. I chose to get a variety of herbs, as I have always wanted to have fresh herbs available. I picked out the plants according to the refrain of a song, for some reason I can't remember the movie I heard it in, but I cannot forget the line, "Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme". We could not get thyme as another customer bought all they had left at the time, but got the other three. In addition, we bought lemongrass (which we call fever grass in Jamaica) and basil. I barely managed to avoid being eaten alive by the mosquitoes, and complained to G the entire way home that mosquitoes in Jamaica did not attack during the daytime! Over the course of last weekend, he weeded the garden, planted my herbs and his shrubs and flowers, and I zapped the dandelions and crab grass with Weed-B-Gon. Between us we have dozens of insect bites, but we're quite happy with the garden and lawn.
In two weeks' time, it will officially be summer. I suppose eventually I will get used to the abbreviated spring here, and hope that summer is not often abbreviated like it was last year when the leaves were turning to fall colours as early as the first week in August! I suppose that should have been a warning about just how bad this past winter was going to be, but having not seen a winter that brutal in as much as a decade, even people like G who have lived in E.L. for longer than that were taken by surprise. As much as I like the changing of the seasons and consider it one of the best features of living in Canada, last winter was just brutally cold for days on end, to the point where I teetered on the edge of losing my joy in the season. As a consequence, I am consciously trying to revel in the spring (such as it is), summer and fall this year.
In leaving, I close with some of the beauties that sprung up in the garden this year:
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
"Spring Ahead"
Had anyone told me, as I contemplated all the changes and adjustments that would be necessary to settle into life in Canada, that one of the hardest adjustments I would face would be Daylight Saving Time, I would have disbelieved them.
While I was in Jamaica, I would tease G about his "fake hour" and complain about the fact that him being an hour ahead meant that he was ready for bed when I was still wanting to be up and talking. I enjoyed watching our favourite series (Showtime's Dexter) an hour before he did, but then had to wait for him to watch the episode so we could discuss it, and bite my tongue to not spoil it for him.
When I first landed in Canada, it was June, so Spring Ahead (the changing of the clocks forward) had already taken place. I essentially "lost" that hour of time sitting in the airplane on the tarmac at Lester B Pearson International, waiting to de-plane and "land" as a permanent resident. The pilot announced the local time, I changed my watch forward by an hour, and it was over. I had so many things to deal with that day, that the loss of an hour in this arbitrary fashion was the least of my concerns. Once fall rolled around and the time came to "Fall back", I was conscious only that we were on the same time as Jamaica once more.
2013 was a different story, however. I was present for the change (back) to Daylight Saving Time, and it was traumatic, to say the least. I got up at the usual time that Sunday to do my regular list of housework. However, my usual time was no longer "9:00 a.m." or so, it was "10:00 a.m." I was an hour late getting started. It seemed to only snowball from there, as I fell further and further behind the usual times I would be through with certain tasks. It was very nearly 9:00 p.m. that night before I was through, an unheard of time for me to complete the cleaning and laundry. Until fall 2013, I felt the loss of that hour keenly, and suffered from a constant, creeping sensation that I was always late. Anal as I am about time, this sensation unnerved me.
2014 spring ahead this year on March 9th was not much better. I actually set an alarm to wake me on a Sunday morning, something I have not done in years. I got up, set all the manual clocks forward, and started my housework at what was now 9:00 a.m. Time seemed to RACE away from me. Each time I looked at a clock, another hour had gone by, and I wasn't done with whatever I had started the hour before. It was past 6:00 p.m. when I finished the housework and went for a run, it was nearly 9:00 p.m. when I was out of the shower and ready to collapse into bed.
Things did not improve during the first week. My colleagues kept commiserating with me, saying it would be a week or so before I adjusted, that was how long it took them. I pointed out that this is my second YEAR dealing with this phenomenon in twenty years, I saw no improvement. When I forgot basic things like turning off a burner on the stove and what pieces of paper to give a customer, I realised I was seriously short on sleep and close to burning out. All for the loss of one hour.
I finally decided that my workouts would no longer be scheduled for the morning unless I was working an afternoon shift, and therefore had plenty of time to wake up and sort myself out, taking my time to make my brunch and get myself ready for work. I also set my alarm a half an hour later, for 7:00 a.m., as the darkness that persisted at what was now 6:30 a.m. simply added to my misery.
Speaking of it being dark at 6:30 a.m. following spring ahead: spring is ahead. Tomorrow is the Vernal Equinox, the official start of spring in the northern hemisphere. The earth's tilt towards the sun begins tomorrow, and a few more precious minutes of daylight will be added to each day. I am still tired, still feel that DST is a rip-off, am still convinced Jamaica's politicians made quite possibly one of their best decisions ever when they ceased to inflict it on the population. If only I could convince Canadians it is unnecessary!
While I was in Jamaica, I would tease G about his "fake hour" and complain about the fact that him being an hour ahead meant that he was ready for bed when I was still wanting to be up and talking. I enjoyed watching our favourite series (Showtime's Dexter) an hour before he did, but then had to wait for him to watch the episode so we could discuss it, and bite my tongue to not spoil it for him.
When I first landed in Canada, it was June, so Spring Ahead (the changing of the clocks forward) had already taken place. I essentially "lost" that hour of time sitting in the airplane on the tarmac at Lester B Pearson International, waiting to de-plane and "land" as a permanent resident. The pilot announced the local time, I changed my watch forward by an hour, and it was over. I had so many things to deal with that day, that the loss of an hour in this arbitrary fashion was the least of my concerns. Once fall rolled around and the time came to "Fall back", I was conscious only that we were on the same time as Jamaica once more.
2013 was a different story, however. I was present for the change (back) to Daylight Saving Time, and it was traumatic, to say the least. I got up at the usual time that Sunday to do my regular list of housework. However, my usual time was no longer "9:00 a.m." or so, it was "10:00 a.m." I was an hour late getting started. It seemed to only snowball from there, as I fell further and further behind the usual times I would be through with certain tasks. It was very nearly 9:00 p.m. that night before I was through, an unheard of time for me to complete the cleaning and laundry. Until fall 2013, I felt the loss of that hour keenly, and suffered from a constant, creeping sensation that I was always late. Anal as I am about time, this sensation unnerved me.
2014 spring ahead this year on March 9th was not much better. I actually set an alarm to wake me on a Sunday morning, something I have not done in years. I got up, set all the manual clocks forward, and started my housework at what was now 9:00 a.m. Time seemed to RACE away from me. Each time I looked at a clock, another hour had gone by, and I wasn't done with whatever I had started the hour before. It was past 6:00 p.m. when I finished the housework and went for a run, it was nearly 9:00 p.m. when I was out of the shower and ready to collapse into bed.
Things did not improve during the first week. My colleagues kept commiserating with me, saying it would be a week or so before I adjusted, that was how long it took them. I pointed out that this is my second YEAR dealing with this phenomenon in twenty years, I saw no improvement. When I forgot basic things like turning off a burner on the stove and what pieces of paper to give a customer, I realised I was seriously short on sleep and close to burning out. All for the loss of one hour.
I finally decided that my workouts would no longer be scheduled for the morning unless I was working an afternoon shift, and therefore had plenty of time to wake up and sort myself out, taking my time to make my brunch and get myself ready for work. I also set my alarm a half an hour later, for 7:00 a.m., as the darkness that persisted at what was now 6:30 a.m. simply added to my misery.
Speaking of it being dark at 6:30 a.m. following spring ahead: spring is ahead. Tomorrow is the Vernal Equinox, the official start of spring in the northern hemisphere. The earth's tilt towards the sun begins tomorrow, and a few more precious minutes of daylight will be added to each day. I am still tired, still feel that DST is a rip-off, am still convinced Jamaica's politicians made quite possibly one of their best decisions ever when they ceased to inflict it on the population. If only I could convince Canadians it is unnecessary!
Friday, January 17, 2014
Snow, and more snow, and New Year's Resolutions
Happy New Year, to everyone that reads this (assuming anyone else does). Wow, it's already half-way through January 2014! How has it treated you so far? Wait, you say, what about Christmas 2013? Christmas 2013 was very quiet, we went out of our way not to celebrate. We didn't put up the tree, we made no formal exchange of gifts (although we did buy things for each other). While not exactly totally into the "Bah, humbug!" camp, we may have set up tent on the outskirts.
The last half of December passed in a blur of work, extreme cold, early darkness and deepening depression. It's the worst attack of seasonal affective disorder I have dealt with since being in Canada. I could not seem to shake a sense of dread as Christmas and the New Year approached, seeing the way 2013 had begun. On days when there was sunshine, I began sitting at the picture window in the living room, eager for light and warmth.
We had a quiet Christmas, entertained by friends of G at their house. We were well-fed, and, being people who enjoy reading, they did not mind one bit when I curled into a corner of their couch and read on my e-reader. I enjoyed not having the stress of preparing the usual elaborate meal that comes with the holiday expectations. On New Year's Eve, I prepared stew peas and dumplings, a very Jamaican dinner which required a bit of time and effort, but turned out as one of my better efforts at that particular dish. We watched a movie together, fell asleep, woke close to the close of the year to kiss the new one into being, then went back to sleep.
2014 started quietly enough, for which I was profoundly glad. I did a workout as scheduled, as I want to maintain the consistency of my efforts at building my best body, regardless of time or space. I then sat down to what used to be an annual task but had fallen by the wayside in 2013: New Year's Resolutions.
Yes, I know that this process has come to be seen as something of a joke, given that all too many people who make resolutions fail at sticking to them. However, I have never been one of those people, I usually make a plan for my year under some broad headings, and use this plan as a framework for carrying on through the year. I am a goal-setter, I like having goals and targets and things to work towards, it gives me purpose and self-direction and a sense of being in control of how my life progresses, rather than being carried will-ye-nil-ye (willy nilly, as we say it now) by whatever happens in life. I enjoy looking back at progress achieved thus far, and plotting a course towards the eventual achievement by making any corrective or evasive maneuvers necessary.
I won't go into detail on what my actual goals are, suffice it to say they cover most of the major areas of life, and this year are written down into what was supposed to be my Game of Thrones book journal but was not necessary for that purpose. It sits on my desk, beside my laptop, ready at hand for consultation, random brain-storming, doodling, updating, and revising. Yes, updates and revisions will be necessary, life has a way of throwing curveballs at you, but one must be prepared to either duck out of the way or swing a bat at it and knock it out of the park. The operative word there is "prepared". If you don't have a plan, you're not very prepared, that's how I roll.
Just over two weeks into 2014 and already we have had more snow, and it is snowing lightly today, with more expected for tomorrow. On the whole, following the "polar vortex" experience of the last half of December, I find myself not minding the snowfall. At least the temperature sits in a tolerable +5 to -10 *C range. Yes, I just wrote that I find up to -10 *C "tolerable". Coming from someone who has spent most of her life in an annual average of about 35 *C, this is quite the tolerance, if you ask me. Once the temperatures descend into the teens below zero, I find it too cold. I cannot seem to get warm inside, no matter how many layers I put on, and I hike the furnace up to 23 *C or ask G to turn on the baseboard heaters. At that point, I am past caring about the gas or hydro bills. I just want to feel warm again.
G is doing all the driving right now. The extremes of cold followed by snow or icy rain have turned the roads into things of dread for me. The roads are either bumpy with new-fallen snow sprinkled with rock salt, or slushy or icy. No, thank you, I will be a passenger again. I realise that I can only become better at handling these conditions by actually attempting to drive in them, but my terror of causing or getting into an accident and the attendant financial nightmare of such a scenario overrides my desire for independence. My risk-aversion is in high gear in winter, and will likely always be that way until I am more accustomed to life in northern Ontario.
In just under an hour, it will be time to head to work. It is Friday, which always makes us happy at work. I am looking forward to unwinding from the week with G, and spending a quiet weekend catching up on the house work.
The last half of December passed in a blur of work, extreme cold, early darkness and deepening depression. It's the worst attack of seasonal affective disorder I have dealt with since being in Canada. I could not seem to shake a sense of dread as Christmas and the New Year approached, seeing the way 2013 had begun. On days when there was sunshine, I began sitting at the picture window in the living room, eager for light and warmth.
We had a quiet Christmas, entertained by friends of G at their house. We were well-fed, and, being people who enjoy reading, they did not mind one bit when I curled into a corner of their couch and read on my e-reader. I enjoyed not having the stress of preparing the usual elaborate meal that comes with the holiday expectations. On New Year's Eve, I prepared stew peas and dumplings, a very Jamaican dinner which required a bit of time and effort, but turned out as one of my better efforts at that particular dish. We watched a movie together, fell asleep, woke close to the close of the year to kiss the new one into being, then went back to sleep.
2014 started quietly enough, for which I was profoundly glad. I did a workout as scheduled, as I want to maintain the consistency of my efforts at building my best body, regardless of time or space. I then sat down to what used to be an annual task but had fallen by the wayside in 2013: New Year's Resolutions.
Yes, I know that this process has come to be seen as something of a joke, given that all too many people who make resolutions fail at sticking to them. However, I have never been one of those people, I usually make a plan for my year under some broad headings, and use this plan as a framework for carrying on through the year. I am a goal-setter, I like having goals and targets and things to work towards, it gives me purpose and self-direction and a sense of being in control of how my life progresses, rather than being carried will-ye-nil-ye (willy nilly, as we say it now) by whatever happens in life. I enjoy looking back at progress achieved thus far, and plotting a course towards the eventual achievement by making any corrective or evasive maneuvers necessary.
I won't go into detail on what my actual goals are, suffice it to say they cover most of the major areas of life, and this year are written down into what was supposed to be my Game of Thrones book journal but was not necessary for that purpose. It sits on my desk, beside my laptop, ready at hand for consultation, random brain-storming, doodling, updating, and revising. Yes, updates and revisions will be necessary, life has a way of throwing curveballs at you, but one must be prepared to either duck out of the way or swing a bat at it and knock it out of the park. The operative word there is "prepared". If you don't have a plan, you're not very prepared, that's how I roll.
Just over two weeks into 2014 and already we have had more snow, and it is snowing lightly today, with more expected for tomorrow. On the whole, following the "polar vortex" experience of the last half of December, I find myself not minding the snowfall. At least the temperature sits in a tolerable +5 to -10 *C range. Yes, I just wrote that I find up to -10 *C "tolerable". Coming from someone who has spent most of her life in an annual average of about 35 *C, this is quite the tolerance, if you ask me. Once the temperatures descend into the teens below zero, I find it too cold. I cannot seem to get warm inside, no matter how many layers I put on, and I hike the furnace up to 23 *C or ask G to turn on the baseboard heaters. At that point, I am past caring about the gas or hydro bills. I just want to feel warm again.
G is doing all the driving right now. The extremes of cold followed by snow or icy rain have turned the roads into things of dread for me. The roads are either bumpy with new-fallen snow sprinkled with rock salt, or slushy or icy. No, thank you, I will be a passenger again. I realise that I can only become better at handling these conditions by actually attempting to drive in them, but my terror of causing or getting into an accident and the attendant financial nightmare of such a scenario overrides my desire for independence. My risk-aversion is in high gear in winter, and will likely always be that way until I am more accustomed to life in northern Ontario.
In just under an hour, it will be time to head to work. It is Friday, which always makes us happy at work. I am looking forward to unwinding from the week with G, and spending a quiet weekend catching up on the house work.
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