Chance Is a Fine Thing!

Funny thing, chance.

After lunch with a friend a couple of weeks ago I went over to the vacuum store across the street from the restaurant we met at, to get some bags for my vac.  Entering the parking lot I noticed a music store in the same plaza, so I went in after I got my vac bags.

And I came out with a new piano book.  100 of the greatest pop songs.  Easy Piano.

So much fun! And not so easy.

I bought myself a second hand keyboard a few months ago to keep in the city for practicing my choir music with.  By which I mean plunking out notes, mostly with one finger.  Thank God we have very professional learning tracks to use for most of the practice.  But I missed being able to slowly go over certain passages with my piano which lives at my house, which I don't live at, as you know.  So I got this keyboard.

As it sits just a few feet from my desk, it has beckoned me on many occasions to come over and play.  Since the only music I had on hand at first was my choir music, I struggled along with some of the accompaniment but, let's be honest, that was way beyond my ability!

Over Christmas I downloaded some free sheet music Christmas carols and played around with them which was great.  By great, I mean it was simpler than the accompaniment, and it showed me that my brain could no longer communicate with each of my hands independently, which was a little depressing.  However, each practice showed improvement, which was encouraging.

But the new piano book has inspired me to make time for a regular piano practice, and I am really getting into it!!  I have three songs on the go, and two of them are really coming along, I just started working on the 3rd one yesterday. 

Despite the fact that the keyboard has some limitations - I run out of keys playing the bass clef and the keys need a lot more weight to depress them and keep them depressed - as a learning tool it has been excellent.

Ever heard that saying " Chance would be a fine thing"?

Well, it was.

Where I Am From

I came across a writing exercise this morning.  Called Where I am From, it directs your to fill in the blanks to create your own story about how you came to be you.  On a different day, I would probably complete it differently, and to that end I have downloaded the template and will revisit it again in the future. 

I added a few pictures and voila!


Where I Am From

I am from new shirts from Woodward’s dollar forty-nine day, from scotch mints tucked beneath the couch cushions.  Newborn kittens in the hayloft.

I am from the stucco and beam farmhouse with the sliding patio front door and wild pink flowered wallpaper in the kitchen.  From aromas as welcoming as stewing chicken or as repugnant as canning salmon.   Pipe smoke.

I am from music.   Mom singing in the kitchen, or the garden, or the barn.   Records.  Soundtracks from The King and I and My Fair Lady.  My piano. 

I am from paperwork and party lines and a home based business .  The dining room desk with it’s clutter.  Typing Dad’s correspondence on the clunky manual typewriter.  The mistakes never forgotten by the carbon copy.  The expectation that you would answer the telephone politely, in case it was a business call.  Take proper messages, written down. 

I am from the tall sweet grass in the field, where we would lay down and name the cloud shapes as they drifted past.  From the cool of the tree canopy at the back of our farm on hot summer days.  From the outdoor swimming pool where we trained most mornings at 6am. 

I am from overseas phone calls at Christmas and a family of giants.

From Edna and Jim and Jennifer.


I am from the bargain rack shoppers and the good night kisses.

I am from dogs and cattle and horses and chickens.  All with names, and personalities.  From parades around our side field where the parents would sit in their folding lawn chairs,  watching us kids circle the field, riding horses with flowers braided into manes and tails, towing dogs with painted toe nails and floral collars, pulling wagons with the littlest kids inside or maybe riding a bike with a playing card clothes-pegged to the spokes.

From “I will come up to tuck you in” and “you get as much out of something as you put into it”. 

I am from the bonnets and white gloves of Anglican Sunday School, the satin gowns and purple robes of Jobies.  From the pile of books on my bed borrowed from the book-mobile, where I discovered “The Religions of the World” which I read cover to cover while sick in bed.  I was about 11. 

I'm from pond skating in Port Arthur ON, by way of a red door in England near the train bridge and an apartment in Bombay with turkey’s on the balcony.  I am from spicy curries and rich beef stews made from our own animals that we raised and garden veggies that we produced.

I am from the ships engineer who was lost at sea; from the kind man who was illiterate but still tried to read to his eight children, substituting the words “apple cart” for any word he was unable to read; from the desperate young mother of four who died from infection from a self- induced abortion.

I am from home movies, flickering soundlessly in a dark basement, from letters from my grandfather to my father and from my father to me, from creased and bent black and white prints of my sister and me posing in the snow, and framed portraits of my parents through the years, side by side.

 

 

 

 

Another Birthday Looms

Well, it's almost here.  Birthday #55. 

Aside from wondering where all the time has gone, it's a good time for some reflection too.

The "Up Series" - British documentary films of a group of children starting at age 7 and filmed every 7 years, embraced the premise taken from the Jesuit motto "Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man".  

 

Me, about age 7, landing a jump off the stairs.

Looking back to me at age 7, I remember a girl who was chubby and self conscious of the fact.  A girl who loved music, be it singing or playing an instrument.  A girl who loved animals, dogs especially.  Who loved her family.  Who "played school" for fun!  Who hated sports, because of the competition.  Who wanted to be "the best", but hated competition - figure that one out!  Who, if she couldn't be the best, didn't want to participate.  And sulked.  Who felt socially awkward and needed to be coaxed and coaxed to join groups.  Who, once part of a group, felt very connected and loyal to the group and didn't want to leave it.  Who liked loved the comfort zone.

Essentially I am exactly the same person!

Here's me, now.
I struggle with my weight.  Luckily the last couple of years I have discovered the secret of a diet with few processed foods and the discipline of swimming regularly.  These have trimmed and toned.  However, the last three months of crazy hard work with getting the city house ready for selling and getting the country estate ready to move into have set me back.  There has been less time for food preparation so more of the nasties have crept back into my diet, and swimming has fallen by the wayside from a lack of time.  Once a week (or less) has been the recent regime.

I love music.  Singing in my choir, Burstin' with Broadway, has been one of the most wonderful experiences in my whole life!  Although I really had to step out of my comfort zone to join in the first place.  That was eight years ago and I have got myself dug in so deep that I am going to commute weekly into the city for rehearsals.  I have tried to use the choir as a vehicle to get out of my comfort zone, auditioning for solo parts and doing introductions during the concerts.  And trying not to sulk when I realize that others are wayyyy better than I am!

 

My costume for "Hair", one of last years choir numbers.

Once we are settled at the country estate I am also going to find a guitar teacher or group to join to improve my guitar skills, and spend more time on the piano, too.

I can't wait to get another dog!  Aside from a few years when my children were young that I went off dogs for a bit, I have always loved them.  Looking back at those few years I think it was more a case of being overwhelmed by parenthood at a young age and not wanting anything else to be responsible for at that phase of my life!  But now I am so looking forward to having a new doggy companion in our family. 

 

Jacob, who we looked after in May when his family were in Hawaii

 

Meanwhile I enjoy looking after other people's dogs and have jokingly suggested to Chuckle's that we start a doggy daycare called "One-At-A-Time Dog Sitting Service" since we only ever commit to one.

My original family of four is still as close as ever.  In fact, the phone lines have been buzzing this week with plans for our upcoming trip together to Mexico in early October which has become an annual tradition. 

 

Here we are last October in Puerto Vallarta

 

It is so special for us to spend a week together in a relaxed environment, being waited on hand and foot and enjoying each others company, whether we are chatting or enjoying companionable silence.  None of us has to rush off anyplace, cook a meal, or deal with work or outside concerns.  It is a very special treasure that we have maintained our close relationships, and that we have been blessed with our parents in our life for so long, this year they are going to be 88 (Dad) and 86 (Mum) and they are still both going concerns.  My sister, Jennifer, is the most selfless person that I have ever met.  She spends her whole life caring for others, her family, her pets, complete strangers and strays as well.  Only half-jokingly we often say that if you are down and out, go to Prince George and find Jennifer and she will take care of you.  It's the absolute truth, and so it is very good to see her being looked after by others at the resort. 

While I no longer "play school", my favorite pastimes are music, reading, writing, crosswords, Sudoku's and things of  that nature.  When we moved from Ontario to BC when I was eight, I was behind in arithmetic, so my Dad took every opportunity to drill my on times tables, and mathematical problem solving.  Sitting in the King Neptune restaurant in New Westminster, between trips to the trough (it was a seafood buffet, our favorite in those days), dad was making drawings on a paper napkin and I was to choose which drawing was different from the others.  After answering several of the problems successfully, he drew a picture of two candlesticks and asked which one was different?  Hmmm... that puzzled me. 

Chuckles cracks up when I draw a star on the top of finished crosswords and write "good job!"  Is that wrong, I ask you?

So looking back I see that indeed I really am the same person I was at age 7.  It's liberating to know yourself so well.  To know ahead of time what will be hard, what will be easy.  What will feel like a challenge and to weigh whether it's worth pushing forward with.  Moving from the city to the country is definitely a move out of my comfort zone, and I have doubts about it every day.  But, it's also something I really want, and have thought about and planned for over 5 years. 

So I am pushing through the self-doubt, and getting on with it, dreaming about my big garden, my new dog, the new friends and experiences that await.