Time, Warped.

A fall day in 2018.

I sit drinking my coffee, listening to the guy playing the fiddle in the square below as the tourists pass him by. His repertoire is seemingly limited. Or maybe he only plays what "works" for his audience of vacationers. Whatever his reason, this guy plays non-stop traditional-Québéçois-sounding fiddle tunes. The next guy who will take over that corner after him plays piano. Last week, it was non-stop Pachebel's Canon. The fiddle stops, and a kid is screaming.

Eight floors above, I take another sip of my coffee and type, still somewhat drowsy. I woke up at 11:36 a.m. The bedroom is dark with the blackout curtain closed; it's easy to lose all sense of time.

The summer of 40 and 100.

This was the summer of my 40th birthday and my great-aunt's 100th. Her birthday was July 2, which was a great way to reclaim that date. There was a big family reunion the week before her birthday, so I went down to where she and her children live, and my parents came up. More family met up there, then we all drove out to the middle-of-no-where West Virginia, to a camp resort where even more family people I'd never met before converged. Most were from the side of my great-aunt's late husband's family, and I didn't know them since I am from my great-aunt's side. (My grandfather was her brother.) It was great to meet and get to know the extended family.

While I was down there, before we went to the camp in no-cell-phone-reception-West-Virginia, I introduced them to my boyfriend via the magic of the Internet. We had hoped he would be able to come on the trip, but he had to work, so we did the next best thing. My second cousins were eager to meet him, and I wanted him to meet them all. As I sat down with my great-aunt and was in the process of connecting to my boyfriend using Google Chat video, I glanced over to my right and saw a stereoscope casually sitting on the table beside me. I thought about how much change my almost-centenarian great-aunt has seen in her lifetime as I watched her video chat with my boyfriend.

Most of the way through Q1.

So far 2015 has included some of the busiest months I have ever had. But this time has been good, mostly because in all the busyness, winter has gone by with me often in a survival-auto-pilot state. That might sound negative, but not having time to think too much in the depths of winter has actually been a relief. Supposedly February was the coldest in over a hundred years, but I was so busy going from one job to another that I hardly noticed. In fact, I was often loosening my scarf or removing one mitten because I was warm from jogging to try to catch the next bus so I wouldn't have to wait 6 or so minutes for another one.

Plié.

Tonight I had my third ballet class. This fall I decided to push myself out of my comfort zone and sign up for an adult beginner ballet class. I had been vaguely considering the idea of taking ballet for a couple of years, but it seemed rather scary. Besides, it was too late. Who starts ballet as an adult anyway?

Last January, I almost signed up, but instead I registered for a semester-long live-model drawing studio. That seemed more manageable at the time, when I was in the depths of winter. Through it I was able to reconnect to visual art again and find healing in it. But the idea of taking ballet stuck with me, and I decided that this fall I would do it. I created a worst-case scenario idea in my head, and then once I had envisioned the absolute worst that could happen, I realized that it was nothing compared to what I've survived in the past. I had nothing to lose, so I bought my leotard, ballet shoes, tights and other ballet stuff and signed myself up. The receptionist asked if I would prefer to register after taking the trial class, and I said no. I didn't want to be able to back out.

5 Years.

Five years ago today I moved to Québec.

What my life is like now is nothing like what I thought it would be on that day I crossed the border and moved to Canada. I came here to be with the person I loved, and once I left my country, he became my home. It wasn't a conscious decision; it just happened in my heart when I displaced myself for him and we got married.

When that exploded and the ground beneath me finally stopped shaking, I realized that I would need to gently dust myself off and redefine "home" for myself. I had to figure out a path forward.

Because sometimes you have to throw your own parties.

I threw myself a birthday party. I knew the first part of this month might not be easy for me, so I planned ways to intentionally take care of myself. I wanted to feel surrounded by loved ones and welcome in a new year, and a birthday is a perfectly normal reason to have a party. (Unfortunately a I-survived-the-depths-of-hell party is a little less socially acceptable.) And since I didn't have someone to throw me a party, I decided to throw one for myself. This probably broke some etiquette rules, especially because I made it a potluck party, but I don't even care. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.

Sage.

A year ago yesterday, my life was suddenly blown apart with one incredibly brief sentence. Tomorrow is a year from the day my now-ex-husband walked out of our home to be with his girlfriend.

If you had asked me then to imagine what my life would look like now, I would have been completely incapable of it. At that point, I could not begin to imagine my life without my ex. My mind couldn't even process what had just happened, let alone my heart. In the beginning, each morning I woke up from a few hours of sleep to re-remember what had happened, after having forgotten while sleeping. Eventually I began to wake up remembering. It took time to accept that things weren't ever going to go back to how they were before, and I don't think I will ever fully understand what happened because it was all so dissonant to absolutely everything I had believed.

Résilience.

This morning I watched this video about a goat that made me cry. The concern and commitment of the caregivers was moving, but it was seeing the little goat's determination that left me with tears running off my face and dropping onto my sternum. The goat kept going, despite adversity, with an attitude that I interpret as thankfulness. And not happiness, but joy. I was taught from an early age that joy is different than happiness because it is independent of external circumstances.

The other day I saw that a library in my town had added the word "résilience," written in huge silver capital letters, all across one side of the building. It's much larger than a billboard, and I took it as a message of encouragement from the universe to keep going. It is a reminder that that we can bounce back from adversity, that the human spirit is strong.

Death and resurrection.

Where I grew up, Easter Sunday was important. There was usually a new Easter dress and sometimes there were hats, but there was always an abundance of pastel-clad people. And green plastic tinsel grass inside bright cheery-colored Easter baskets with chocolate, Paas-dyed eggs and jelly beans.

Until this year, I didn't really have much experience with death. And it turns out, resurrection feels pastel-colored only if you don't know what it's like to go through some sort of death.

Here and there.

• I bought vacuum cleaner. A Miele. I love it. It's black and silver, though I chose it for other reasons. However, it coordinates very well with my home's color scheme.
• I vacuumed the whole apartment the day I brought it home. There are no longer little rocks on the floor in the 3-foot (half) radius around front door. And Booboo was pretty comfortable around it, which is a huge change from how he was with the previous vaccuum.
• At the store, the registration process for the 10-year free warranty (!!!) asked for the reason for buying a vacuum. There was not an option for "My ex left me for another woman and took the vacuum cleaner with him." So the guy at the store said I should just choose "Replacing a broken vacuum."
• My new Miele rolls behind me so easily, like a happy little puppy following me around. It was on sale, plus I even got an extra $40 off because I took one that had an almost invisible scratch on the bottom. Honestly, I probably did more damage to it on its maiden voyage around the apartment the other day.
• You know the risk I talked about in the last two paragraphs of this post?

Making room for Style.

Often I'll come home from work and do some sort of household task as a way of transitioning from work to home. Many days it's dishes or laundry, but today I suddenly found myself switching out the books in the bookshelf closest to the spot on the couch where I most often sit.

My books were previously organized loosely by category on four bookcases, three in a row on one side of the living room and one on the other side, closest to my favorite spot on the couch. Tonight I came home looking for a place for The Chicago Manual of Style, which I just got in the mail today. I finally ordered it for myself after having it on my wish list and wanting it for 3+ years. The other day I just realized that I write, so I should probably own this excellent resource.

Anyhow, there I was with the thick style book and instead of just squeezing it in somewhere, I decided I needed to rearrange my books in that solo bookcase. Right then.

The coup continues.

Well, it's clearly not over, this rebellion of my belongings.

My computer arrived at work today, and since I wasn't working today at the office, I drove to pick it up so I would have a back-up plan if my old computer decides to stop working again before the translation is finished. I had my coins ready to stick in a meter, but no metered spots were available near my office. Then I saw there was a loading zone spot. I thought, huh, I am here to pick up something for 2 minutes, this is exactly what this spot is for! So I parked and ran in to get the computer and was back out super quickly. I was unlocking the passenger door to put the computer in, and my key broke off in the lock.

My possessions are staging a rebellion.

So. My laptop broke on Monday night late, and I had to buy a new one on Tuesday because I have a freelance translation contract to finish for Friday. It was supposed to be delivered Wednesday, but it was not.

On Tuesday I came home and walked in the door and the lights wouldn't work. I thought it was the light bulb. I tried two and determined that it wasn't. Then I thought it might be the fuse. (The fuse box is a mystery to me because it is the old kind of fuses because the apartment is 100 years old.) After someone else checked for me (and I made notes of which fuses do what!), I know that all the fuses are fine.

The process of elimination revealed it is a problem with the contact in the lamp itself (for one of the non-working lamps) and a timer explained the other non-working lamp. The timer is now adjusted and that lamp works now.

Wednesday night I tried to go to meet someone to borrow a laptop to use until the new one arrives and to see if there was anything to be done for the broken one. I got in my car and turned on my windshield wipers. They started up then stopped in the middle of the windshield on the first swipe. So I couldn't drive anywhere because driving any significant distance without windshield wipers in winter in Québec is just not wise.

I bought a couch. It is not beige.

I bought my very first couch.* And I really like it. It's from Ikea, and almost the same as what my ex and I had (but that one was his from before, so he took it with him). Instead of a 2-seater sleeper sofa, I got the 3-seater regular couch. ('Cause that fold-out bed was not very comfortable anyways!) The 3-seater couch is long enough for me to sleep on, so I can sleep on it when I have guests who visit. And the color? White! And red! 'Cause, you know, the covers are removable...and WASHABLE!

Which is a good thing, because the white cover (I am in a white phase with decor) is not coping so well with my wardrobe chock-full of black clothing and Booboo's hair. I will need to buy stock in whatever company makes lint-rollers if I use the white all the time.

Anyhow. I am so thankful to have a couch again. Next up: painting a couple rooms (white, of course) and buying a vacuum cleaner. I am currently thinking it makes more sense for the environment to invest in a better one that will last for YEARS. I am pondering Miele (possibly a refurbished one???) because I had one years ago in a furnished apartment I lived in in Europe and never had any problems with it, and the reviews are really good for that brand. Do any of you have any experience with vacuums you love?

*I have owned one other super comfy couch that was given to me, and I loved it. But when I moved here, we decided my ex's couch was better than mine, so we gave mine to his friend (who was actually one of his ex'es). She loves the couch though, so at least it went to a someone who appreciates it.

Downhill.

It was one of those weeks that started out good and then all of a sudden went downhill in the middle and by today, there was a pile-up of bad things. The bad things were bigger disappointments and hurts, and as I walked home from work I was thinking about them.

Though I didn't feel like it, I managed to summon the energy to stop at the grocery store because I needed to buy a few things for the weekend. It was a quick stop and soon I was walking home again. As I was thinking about the most recent turn of (bad) events, I fell on the ice. There were people around, but no one said a thing. I picked myself and my grocery bags back up and continued walking home (carefully) on the dark, ice-covered sidewalks.