Books and hearts and flowers...

... a few of my favourite things.

Brief journeys - impressions of Toronto

“Before the real city could be seen it had to be imagined, the way rumours and tall tales were a kind of charting.”

Michael Ondaatje, In the Skin of a Lion

~ Peonies and rain showers.
~ Geese. Of the Canadian variety, of course. Bronze and feathered, both.
~ Rest and restoration. Good sleep, warm hospitality, leisurely pace.
~ Walks and chats. Lots of that...
~ Waterfalls and sunlight create magic in the sky.
~ Love, and a wander down memory lane.
~ Iconic skyline.
~ Did I mention the Peonies? Never, ever, seen so many.
~ A beach, a far horizon and a big sky. Some of my favourite things.

♥

Garden of green, gates and glass

Sadly, not mine. But such a beautiful place to spend a couple of hours wandering... restorative and inspiring.

Morning sky

Not what we have

but what we enjoy,

constitutes our abundance.

Epicurus

(341-270)

Some days this is all it takes to set the tone right.

Other days it takes a bit more effort.

Today I'm going for the former.

All wrapped up with a bow...

Christmas – that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance – a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.

Augusta E. Rundel

What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future. It is a fervent wish that every cup may overflow with blessings rich and eternal, and that every path may lead to peace.

Agnes M. Pharo

The joy of brightening other lives, bearing each others' burdens, easing other's loads and supplanting empty hearts and lives with generous gifts becomes for us the magic of Christmas.

W. C. Jones

I wish you shelter from the storm

A cozy fire to keep you warm

But most of all when snowflakes fall

I wish you love

But most of all when snowflakes fall

I wish you love

I wish you love

I wish you love, love, love, love, love

I wish you love

Charles Trenet/Albert A. Beach

So, it's almost here... Christmas. I will be working my last day of the year today, have bid my friends and colleagues farewell as they head to be with their families, distributed my gifts, bought in food supplies, stocked up on movies, and am ready to batten down the hatches. There's an air of hush in the city now and I'm looking forward to a few quiet days.

To you, my blogging lovelies, friends, and family of my heart... for every visit, for every thoughtful word, for every laugh, for every gift of kindness, for sharing, for reaching out, for being there, for being here - thank you.

And however you celebrate it, I wish you and yours a very happy holiday - wrapped with a little sparkle and full to the brim of whatever makes you happiest. Most of all, I wish you love.

I'll see you on the other side...

♥

Poised and ready to play...

Today I start a little further unravelling. So, so excited.

I even wore pink for the occasion. I now own some pink. (This is all of it - scarf from A, shoes from me).

Progress. It's all about progress.

And exploration. And fun.

Overcome by the sky

Two very strange things happened yesterday morning:

1. The sky made me cry
2. I went to work wearing odd earrings

On my way to the station this pink cloud scene appeared before me as I rounded a corner where high-rise buildings part enough for city sky to be more than just a distant sliver. So beautiful. So unexpected. It lasted only a minute or two after this and then the intensity faded. By the time I reached the station entrance (that white roof in the foreground) it was all but gone.

I'm often out very early but we don't often enjoy a beautiful sunrise around here. It's always a treat and I count it as one of the plusses of those pre-dawn starts when I'm surprised in this lovely way. What took me even more by surprise than the sky though, was that it made me cry. Without any warning I had tears pouring down my face. The sort of tears that just well and overflow without control from somewhere deep and invisible, triggered by something random and unexpected - like a song, a voice on the 'phone, a phrase in a book, an image on a poster, the sight of the sky... The same sort of thing that on another day would not have that effect, might even pass unnoticed. Do you know what I mean? I don't cry that easily but there are things that occasionally catch at my heart, unearth a soul-sadness and make me overflow. Sometimes hormonally charged, but not always. Not yesterday. Something else was going on. And it took me most of the three hour journey north to properly regain my composure. Silly Goose, as my Nana would have said.

I'm struggling a bit at the moment. Struggling to hang on to all the strings on all the balloons I've agreed to hold - personal and professional. Not the biggest collection I've ever managed and at another time, not a problem. I like the colour and diversity of a varied bunch. I'd even go so far as to say I need it. I seek out projects that give me this variety but, at the moment... too many. And not a good mix. I feel too light, ungrounded. Like I might lift off and be towed behind them into the upper atmosphere, where they'll burst and I'll plummet back to earth, landing painfully. Or, more and more it feels as if I'll just let go and watch them all float away into the distance. Already I've seen one or two slip free and disappear into the ether.

I was handed another balloon at work last week - it's an interesting project, which just needs a bit of additional attention, and it's a compliment that I have been asked to deal with it. And I will deal with it. It deserves the attention. In normal circumstances I might not even notice its addition to the bunch. But right now, to find the energy for it, it probably means adding another personal project to an ever-growing, sad and neglected little pile. I just don't have the wherewithal to manage it all. Work-Life balance? Err, no. I'm feeling a touch overworked, overwrought, overwhelmed...

And that's just the day to day stuff.

It's okay. I've been here before and I will get through it. I recognise the pattern in myself. But on this morning, that sky was a call to arms for me. Random uncontrollable crying in pubic places is a clear signal that something requires attention. And it's not the first time it's happened recently. I need to rearrange the bunch, maybe hand off a few strings, or invest in heavier shoes.

It doesn't help that I'm sleep deprived a lot of the time these days. It's becoming hard to remember a time when I didn't see in 3am with my eyes open. Despite being awake more hours than required, I seem to be achieving less and less. My brain is fuzzy and wild, and my emotions ricochet around in the space my vacated mind has created, adding an over- or under- reaction to every experience. I'm second-guessing myself or failing to act, even where I can quite clearly see what needs doing. I don't have the energy. Some days all I can manage is to hang on grimly to those balloon strings.... Sometimes not even sure anymore why the hanging on is so important but certain that it is. Letting go of it all, liberating as it might appear to be, is not really an option.

Anyway, yesterday... I went through my day - attended meetings, sat in on a workshop, went for lunch with some colleagues, caught the train home again. Fortunately no sunset to speak of, so no more tears. But as I prepared for bed, removing remaining make-up from tired eyes and letting down my hair, I noticed that I was wearing odd earrings... had been all day - one turquoise, one black. Obviously unmatched. Not a deliberate style statement. Not a very big deal in the overall scheme. But very, very un-me. Another sign that all is not functioning as it should be.

And as I stood there in front of the mirror, I had a very clear mental image of one of my little balloons (the one labeled attention-to-detail-and-ability-to-concentrate-even-long-enough-to-change-both-earrings) breaking gently free of the bunch and floating away into a pink sky...

Tickled pink...

I think I am going up,

I think I may rise ---

The beads of hot metal fly, and I, love, I

Am a pure acetylene

Virgin

Attended by roses,

By kisses, by cherubim,

By whatever these pink things mean.

Sylvia Plath

(1932-1963)

The happiness quotient promises to be high this week:~

• Order out of chaos
• Wishes come true
• Rose-tinted glasses
• Friendship, sisterhood, love
• Simple pleasures
• A little luxury
• The big picture
• Minute detail
• Cracks painted over
• One door closes...
• Stopping to smell the roses
• Rain or shine
• In the pink
• Gifts from the heart
• Let the good times roll

Clichés all, all true.

Share the happy juice...

[Flickr credits]

10x10=100

In celebration of her 100th post, Sandy K asked that we post a photograph that reflects the number 100 today...

There were a few contenders for me. Today I travelled 100 miles in 100 minutes (and then back) to attend a meeting of 100 ideas (although only half were interesting), and I wore a necklace of almost 100 beads (yes, I counted them in the less riveting moments of the meeting). Not the most positive of 100s. So I've decided to go with these instead... They're a work in progress still, the placecards that I'm making for my friend's wedding reception tables. The request was for something floral, fun and modern that reflects the colours being used throughout - purple, navy and pink, with a dash of silver. The bride and groom couldn't decide which of the sample designs they preferred. So, in the end, they're having them all: 10 designs for 10 tables - 100 wedding guests. I think it's an auspicious number for a wedding party, don't you?

♥

Birds of a Feather

A's Day

{click to embiggen if you'd like a closer look}

~ setting out ~ en route ~ a little bridal bling ~ ormer shell earrings from her island home ~

~ no-one wears them better ~ strawberry picnic boat ~ colours of the day ~ beautiful flapper ~

~ girlie glam ~ cute waiters in the background ~ balloon love ~ flavour & fragrance ~

~ hen & chick magic ~ ready to fly ~ several champagne cocktails later ~ dancing the night away ~ 

♥

A printing block and a pink butterfly...

...small, sweet souvenirs. 

• One a gift from a friend; one a gift from the sea.
  
• One well-worn, patinated and full of character; one shiny, colourful and newly formed.
  
• One to remind me of who I am; one to remind me of what I love.
  

So I won't forget.

• I'm sad not to still be on holiday. But happy to be home.
  
• I'm sad to have left the beach and the peaceful lack of telephone signal behind. But I'm happy to be here, now, with my laptop and its online connectivity.
  
• I'm sad for the current displacement that requires the need of them. But I'm happy to have small reminders of the things that are important to me.
  

So I won't forget.

Sink into Pink

Who can resist?

In all its shapes and forms...

...let's celebrate love today

warm and fuzzy, across the miles, and even when it hurts

We wouldn't want to live without it, would we?

Happy Valentine's Day!

♥

[Flickr credits]

Tagged for happy thoughts...

C wearing her pink fluffy angel wings on the outside

I've been tagged. It's my first ever tagging... A blogging rite of passage I believe?

Claire has asked that I celebrate five days of h.a.p.p.y thoughts and I'm happy to play along. They might not be five consecutive posts but between now and the beginning of 2009, I'll certainly oblige. 

My happy thought this morning is brought on by a weekend visit, a caring email, a virtual journey shared, and the subsequent contemplation of my friends - C, E and M in particular, who provided these. Although they now all live far away (two on entirely different continents to me) and I don't have the opportunity to spend as much time in their company as I would like, they are always with me; they share my life, enriching it with their unwavering support and inspirational example even from afar. Incredible women all, albeit in very different ways.

• Women who are a touchstone to my heart.
  
• Women who stand by me even when I'm sometimes hard to reach.
  
• Women who don wings to dance in celebration of my life.
• Women who offer love and laughter as an antidote to hurt and tears.
  
• Women who bring warmth, colour and texture to my inner and outer world.
  

They are family. Family of the chosen rather than related kind. Special women who've known me a long time now but with whom I felt a kinship even after we'd just met. 

You know the feeling, don't you? When you encounter someone who you could share your profoundest dreams or fears with over a cup of tea, or stand in companionable silence with and still feel connected to. Someone who shares a thought, an insight, a smile perhaps, as if reflecting your own reaction almost exactly. Or whose difference offers what's lacking in you and completes the moment, completes you in the moment. Brings balance. 

Sometimes these people pass in and out of our lives quickly. Sometimes the moment lasts only as long as the train journey, the eye contact in a coffee shop, in silence, and then is over. Leaving us nevertheless richer for it. Touched. Sometimes, if we are lucky, it grows into something broader, wider, deeper - fuller. And lasts a lifetime. 

I think we feel it here in the blogosphere too. And although we might never meet in person, it's no less special a connection for it.

And I am thankful for it. I am enriched by it. And, for me, this is a happy thought.

I'm not going to tag anyone specifically, but if you'd like to play along, please consider yourself tagged...

Happy thought Monday to you!

Pink is not for redheads

After considering her reluctance to wear a silver and black beanie out of the house because of her mother’s Silver Rule (a beanie she presumably likes or would not have bought?) Anairam, over at fra(a)iing, posed the question… ”I am wondering if you also have funny illogical rules - carry-overs from your childhood - that keep you from wearing or doing something?”

Yes, yes, yes. There are several things in fact. I had some very influential people in my life while growing up. Great people. Generally quite sensible people. But with the occasional odd and completely illogical idea that they shared with my impressionable mind. And some of these ideas stuck.

In relation to things I wear, the most enduring rule is that, as a redhead, I should never wear pink.

This is me. My hair is red. I have the freckles to prove it.

And that means that all of these lovely things are apparently out of bounds to me.

Is it just me or are there quite a few shoes in that selection? No surprise really, I do love shoes. And those pink shoes are gorgeous! But, I cannot imagine even buying a pair of pink shoes. Why on earth not? They would be nowhere near my hair. But the rule says, “Pink is not for redheads”.

I know it’s not true. Redheads can look as good in pink as anyone, provided it’s the right shade for their skin tone. But I still don’t own anything pink. Not even pink shoes. Yet!

Well, actually... that’s not entirely true. I do own a pink wig. Bought and worn to a company fancy dress party earlier this year. Perhaps if the real hair is not on show, then I can get away with pink is what I was thinking? I don’t remember. It just seemed the right choice. I don’t think I will ever have the courage to do what Laini Taylor did to her hair to achieve this. It wasn’t red to start with, true, but I think it looks fabulous! She’s fabulous - a wonderful writer and all round creative marvel - and magenta hair is so good on her!

Apart from the pink ban there are all sorts of other things that are apparently true for redheads. Read about some of them here or here if you're interested. The sections on sensitivity to pain and beliefs about temperament I found most interesting. And it's true that I can be a bit fiery. But what’s with the prejudice and discrimination aspect? I don't get it. Apparently the ancient Egyptians were known to burn redheads alive. Because they were redheads. Bizarre. I have been called “Ginger” in my time and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t meant as a compliment. But I don't know why anyone would want to insult me just because of the colour of my hair. Perhaps it’s born out of jealousy? We do make up only about 2 or 3% of the world’s population. Rare. Like rubies.

On the flipside of that, there’s this. Cool!