pssst... over here!

http://andsoshepaints.blogspot.com/

:)

Remember that little website I mentioned purchasing? I've finished uploading a bunch of content including a lot of examples of my work, and I am happy to say that it is officially live!

Check it out!

I think I have watched this video a dozen times now...



'scuse me while I go watch it again!

… is to be in a booth in a coffee shop somewhere, sipping on a ridiculously expensive coffee with lots of foam, just chatting with T, or T, or A, or any of my close ladies… commiserating about everything going on in our lives right now… having a sounding board for all the garbage floating around in my head… just feeling normal, and in control, and a part of something unconditional. 

The boy and I have been talking at great lengths recently about really investing in our "side business" ideas... we are trying to make plans for the future (oh how grown up of us!) and to do the things we want to do we need to pay down some debt (okay, a lot of debt... but it's mostly student debt... so it's not a completely bad thing)... and to pay down that debt, we need to find a way to bring in a little bit of extra money each month...

I have been doing portraits on commission for a long time now, though I've never really done it in any sort of consistent way... mostly just around the holidays, for family and co-workers and such... and I used to spend a lot of time in the summer when I would visit my dad as a kid/teen painting flower pots, signs, and other crafty little things for people... I used to pull in quite a bit of cash for that back in the day...

I've even branched out and done some pretty random stuff recently (like doing a casting of my sister-in-law's very pregnant belly yesterday... which I am going to paint and mount as a decoration for my niece-on-the-way's nursery)

All of that was really more of a hobby than anything else, but the boy (along with many others) have convinced me that there is a real market out there for such things, so I think I'm going to do it... for reals.

We had been discussing it for a while, and looking at the logistics of everything (website, time to draw/paint/etc, business cards, advertising) and I have been wanting to try to do something on my own, because I really would like to be my own boss someday, and I think that maybe... if I really try, and push myself to follow through... I can do this.

So I bought a domain name!  hehe...

It is the first step toward building my own business... and hopefully a big step toward building a financially sound future with the boy.

I was daydreaming in the shower this morning about the possibilities... I would love to be able to make my art be my full time job... and hopefully we will be able to start our family soon... and then I will be able to stay home and take care of our family, and still be stable where money is concerned. 

I think it would be fantastic to have a business card that read "freelance artist / domestic goddess"!  LOL

Six years, as of today, and going strong.

Sometimes you look at me in that certain way, and I still get butterflies.

I'm betting that's a really good thing.

:)

xoxo

Some things get better with time… others, not so much.  For the most part, I don’t feel as though I have changed much, because it has been a slow progression… an evolution, or a regression, depending on the perspective I suppose… sometimes I feel so far apart from most everyone I love… so very different from them…

My head is not in the same space that it once was… at times I feel so certain that I know who I am, and what I want, and where I am going… but sometimes……

There are people in my life who I aspire to be like… the absolute picture of strength, and fun, and courage… living their lives each moment the way they want, without apology or excuse… and it terrifies me that I feel these people slipping away from me…

It’s so hard to find the time… to fit each other in amongst the working, the living, and the “prior obligations”… to put in the time required to maintain a relationship with another human being… and it is all the more difficult when your lives are heading in completely different directions, full speed ahead…  when the activities you enjoy, your idea of downtime and recreation, are no longer the same… when the priorities have shifted… neither perspective or lifestyle is superior to the other… just very, very different…

I sometimes feel pushed away, kept at a distance… less important… unwelcome…but it is I who has isolated me… run off on a tangent that got away from itself…

I need to work harder to maintain connections… I need to resolve to be a better friend… I need to step outside my comfort zone, and find the time to make time…

It’s odd… 6 years after deciding to take control of my life, after having taken that giant leap and starting things over… deciding to put myself first, to work on me as a person, instead of me as part of a group… I am so afraid of being a single unit.

...

So I found out recently that the boy has never before eaten shepherd’s pie.

Seriously.

It's one of those things that I never think about until it comes up... just how different our upbringings and "cultures" are, even though we are both born Canadian. We tend to take for granted the things we think of as a normal part of life, and how these are not necessarily “usual” for other people... now, I don't mean to get off on some philosophical tangent here, it is only shepherd’s pie we are talking about here... so carrying on...

The boy really has no complaints about my cooking, and I have made efforts to incorporate some of his mother's recipes into my meal planning, though I generally stick to the things I am comfortable making quickly for weeknight dinners. (the boy's parents are Filipino, my background is a bit of a European sampler, heavy on the British and German, with a little Scottish thrown in for kicks)

I try to keep everything from prep, to cooking, to serving under the 45 min mark during the week, just to simplify my life... as a result, there are quite a few comfort-type foods that I loved growing up, and can make, that it hasn't occurred to me to make for the boy, because I assumed he is aware of them, and would ask for it if he wanted it... I am learning that it is not so...

Last year it was meatloaf... we were out for dinner at a restaurant, and he decided to be "daring" and try something new - meatloaf. I laughed, and said "Seriously - you've never had meatloaf?"... I know I can make a mean meatloaf, but always thought of it as boring, and not something he would want... but I was wrong... you should see how happy he is when he sees that meatloaf is on the menu on any given week...

It makes me smile how easy this guy is to please sometimes!

Anyway, back to the shepherd's pie story...

So I promised to make it for him after he was watching a food network show on Irish pubs, and they were sampling the different fares and he was practically drooling on himself. I made it a little differently than most people would (much like my meatloaf), because I really don’t like beef or pork, so I used lean ground turkey instead. So I went about preparing everything… cooking the meat… getting the veggies ready… mashing the potatoes… assembling the layers and putting it in the oven. The whole time, I keep hearing these complaints from the living room that it smells great, but what is taking so long?

When everything is ready and we sit down to eat, he tries it and proclaims that it tastes great, but it takes too long… and that I didn’t need to bake it, since he had never had it before, I could have just prepared the separate components, and then piled it on a plate and he would have been happy. Happier still if it was in three separate piles.

* sigh *

That’s my husband for you… lol

On the corner of main street
Just tryin' to keep it in line
You say you wanna move on and
You say I'm falling behind

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

I never really gave up on
Breakin' out of this two-star town
I got the green light
I got a little fight
I'm gonna turn this thing around

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

The good old days, the honest man;
The restless heart, the Promised Land
A subtle kiss that no one sees;
A broken wrist and a big trapeze

Oh well I don't mind, you don't mind
Coz I don't shine if you don't shine
Before you go, can you read my mind?

It’s funny how you just break down
Waitin' on some sign
I pull up to the front of your driveway
With magic soakin' my spine

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

The teenage queen, the loaded gun;
The drop dead dream, the Chosen One
A southern drawl, a world unseen;
A city wall and a trampoline

Oh well I don't mind, you don't mind
Coz I don't shine if you don't shine
Before you go
Tell me what you find when you read my mind

Slippin’ in my faith until I fall
He never returned that call
Woman, open the door, don't let it stay
I wanna breathe that fire again

She said
Oh well I don't mind, you don't mind
Coz I don't shine if you don't shine

Put your back on me
Put your back on me
Put your back on me

The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun
When you read my mind

(by the Killers)

Yup... that about sums it up right now...

Growing up, I always thought I had a clear picture of what I wanted to be, and what I wanted to do, and where I would do it “when I grew up”… Although the vocation changed frequently, as it is wont to do when you are a kid, I was sure of the other things… I wanted out of that town, and I was going to work my ass off to make it so…

I wanted to go to college… to surround myself with other creative people… to draw… to paint… to graduate, and stand up tall, feeling accomplished and happy…  I wanted a career… a busy life… I wanted to find other people out there in the world who were just like me… I wanted to fall in love… to get married and start a family (in that order…  I was not going to perpetuate the cycle!)…

So here I am, with all but one of those items checked off the list… and that will happen when it happens… it is what it is… and has nothing to do with where I’m going here…

The thing is, I have accomplished all of my childhood goals… I have an amazing life… I have the most loving, caring, perfect-for-me husband… I have a home… I have a job that pays me well enough to do very little… I live a pretty comfortable life in a cute town, with the boy, our cats, and our crazy little pug… things are good… I am happy.

But at the same time, I keep thinking that this is not where I imagined I would be when I have not yet seen my twenty-fifth birthday.  It’s as if I have fast-forwarded past a whole bunch of things that I didn’t really know I wanted to do until I passed them by…

I mean, I had an idea that I wanted them, but I saw them as a vehicle to get to final destination of happily-ever-after… I used to daydream about having a very specific lifestyle… I imagined myself an artist, living downtown(ish)… I imagined a studio loft apartment, full of light and my silly Ikea furniture… I imagined myself hoping on and off the subway… running to catch streetcars to go to my job at an agency, or to go to Kensington Market… I imagined summer nights spent on a roof-top patio… drinks with friends… live music… parties… the city noise… the people… the whole city surrounding me and enveloping me in its busy, noisy, urban-goodness…

I imagined a bustling social life that would eventually lead me to my husband… which would eventually lead me down the path that I am on now… just a few years later…

It’s funny… I think I just pretty much described my friend T’s life right there! LOL!  She’s such a cool girl… She always seems so in control of herself, and sure of where she is headed… perhaps I can just live vicariously through her?  ;)

Maybe it sounds like I’m whining… but I’m not… It’s not that I feel like I missed out on something… that’s not it… I can’t put my finger on what it is that I am trying to express exactly… I don’t feel that I have somehow missed things, because, given the choice, I would not exchange that lifestyle for the one I have now…  I like my life… it’s that I thought that once I got to where I am now there would be some sort of a feeling of accomplishment… of having arrived… but in reality, it’s a strange mix of emotions… there is this over-whelming sense of responsibility, but it’s all so anti-climactic…

And sometimes I still feel like that awkward girl… just trying to fit in… trying to find where it is that I fit in the world… I feel like I should feel relief, and like I belong… and like I’m “THERE”… but I don’t.

I bet it sounds really selfish of me, to have so much, and still feel like there is something missing… only I could have so much happiness, and still somehow feel incomplete… I just feel as if I still have to prove myself… to show them all… to achieve something great… and I wonder if I would still feel the way I do if I had chosen the other path…

It’s pointless really… as is this post… and it likely won’t make sense to anyone but me, but it has been rolling around in my head for so long, that I just needed to attempt to put the words out in front of myself and try to make sense of it.

I am a work in progress… and I need to learn to be happy with that.

And WHY can't boxes unpack themselves???

 

So today on my lunch break I thought it would be a good idea to actually make a list of how many times I have moved, listing the street and city (I've left out the actual address in an attempt to maintain some smidgen of anonymity, as if it makes a difference, really), in order since I was born. 

Fun, right?

I even gave my mom a call to help fill in the fuzzy bits (ie before I was 5 or so)... and it would appear that my estimation of having moved forty times in my life, is actually quite a bit less and I am a huge over-exaggerator... but it's still weird and slightly impressive in a strange, sad way... heh.  

I think I should finally do what I have intended to do for a while, and go around and snap a photo of each one of these buildings/houses and put together a little scrapbook/coffee table book thing for myself...  starting with Grandma's old house on Garth Street, and ending with the house that the boy and I bought... I imagine what all the photos would look like, some of them over-exposed to infer the explosive memories contained therein, some of them dark and grainy, a few of them bright and crisp with sunlight beating down on the roof and lawn, a tire swing hanging from a tree in the yard... I would have the photos printed in high-gloss full colour, and the book would be bound in a tight little stack, and the cover would read "HOME"...

I think it would be a really cathartic experience... I wonder if some of them are even standing still?  I'm pretty certain that the house on Poirier street was condemned a few years ago...

Anyway, here is the list!  The items that are italicized are when we were technically without a house of our own, and we were mostly sleeping on my mom's friends couches and such; but they were for long enough periods of time that it constituted a move, and sometimes a new school... everything from Nonquon on is after I moved out on my own...

You'll notice that Garth and Paisley are listed twice... Garth is listed a second time to show when my dad moved back in with Grams and Popa when I was little, and since they shared custody at that time, it was a half-move for me... Paisley is listed twice because we moved out, and moved all of our stuff into my mom's friends' house for 6 months before she left Rick and the Doll's dad the first time (insert school change), then moved back in to the townhouse (insert school change) before she left him for good and we uprooted to the other side of the province...  Confused yet?

Drumroll please...

1. Garth St, Guelph
2. Willow Rd Apartment, Guelph
3. Waterloo Ave (stayed with Grandpa Herb), Guelph
4. MacDonell St (with some lady Mom met, above the restaurant), Guelph
5. Edinborough Rd Apartment, Guelph
6. Apartment Above Store off London Rd, Guelph
7. Wellington St, Guelph
8. Dufferin St, Guelph
9. Garth St, Guelph
   
10. Rosewood Dr, Guelph
11. Paisley Rd, Guelph
12. Arthur St, Elmira (Lived with Mom's friend Mandy)
13. Paisley Rd, Guelph
14. RR#2 (HWY 41), Shady Nook
15. Westmeath Rd, Westmeath
16. Leahey St, Pembroke
17. Poirier St, Pembroke
18. Bell St, Pembroke (Lived with Tammy - The Doll's friend's mom and Family)
19. Lea St, Pembroke
20. Market St, Pembroke
21. Second Ave, Pembroke
22. Metcalfe, Pembroke
23. Nonquon Dr, Oshawa
24. Woodlawn Rd, Guelph
25. Culham Dr, Oakville
26. Lakeshore Rd, Oakville
27. Weir Rd, Oakville
28. Glen Erin Dr Apartment, Mississauga
29. Winding Tr, Mississauga
30. Whitelaw Rd, Guelph

I am really hopeful that this move will be the last... that is the plan at least... thirty is too many times for a person to move in their life, and far too many times to have moved in just twenty-five years.

It's time to put down roots.

I finally got my new hook-ups for my cable, phone, and internet at the new house straightened out today... yaaaay!!

Remember Candice, the supposed miracle worker who was supposed to call me back last week when everything was straightened out? Yeah... well... she never called...

Grrrr... and to think, I had such nice things to say about her!

But luckily today I managed to get through to someone who could help me... and I only had to go through three CSRs before I got Jeremiah, who said "Oh! You've got a consolidated account! You need to talk to a consolidated Rep!" (because I have all my services with Rogers, on one bill), and he put me through to Janine, who fixed the problem in three minutes!

Three minutes people!!!

So, when we move in on the 17th, the cable/internet dude will come to install things, and then our home phone will be installed on the 20th.

Still left to do:

1. Get mine and the boys cell numbers changed to the new area code
2. Arrange the electricity hook-up
3. Arrange the gas hook-up
4. Transfer the water-softener lease to us
5. Change my address on my drivers licence, health card, and all other ID stuff
6. Change my address with the bank, my work, NSLSC, the Canada Revenue Agency, magazine subscription, etc...
7. Paint the townhouse back to white for the rental company before we leave
8. Pay land-transfer taxes and title insurance
9. Actually close on the house and sign all the paperwork
10. Pack 80% of my belongings

*sigh*

Apparently I have somehow wreaked havoc on the Rogers accounting system. My account is too complex, and no one is quite sure how to fix it…

*exasperated sigh*

Allow me to start from the beginning… buckle your seatbelts kids… this is a long one…

Two years ago when we first moved into the townhouse, there was an issue with getting a technician out to do our hook-up, as we “didn’t give enough notice” of the move (three weeks… apparently they needed a month to schedule the tech guy), and they only did installs in our area on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the Thursday before our move-in and the Tuesday after, were already booked... so we were without cable, net, and home phone for nearly a week… this was a very trying period for us, as tech-dependant as we are, and it nearly caused a breakdown on my part due to lack of technological stimulation (slight exaggeration for dramatic effect).

Naturally, I wanted to avoid this happening in the new house, so I called Rogers on April 14th, thinking that surely 33 days was enough notice… apparently it was too much notice, and they can’t schedule work orders more than 30 days in advance… and she as much as called me a liar, saying that there is no way our service disruption was due to a scheduling issue… that their technicians work every day of the week, and there must have been an issue on our end, not their end, and that perhaps I had misunderstood the situation before, but there was nothing she could help me with now, I would have to call back again, and sit on hold for 20 minutes again, and make a new work order, thank you have a great day.

*sigh*

Cue the mild frustration. But I bit my tongue, and said I would call back in 3 days.

I finally started packing! Yay! I decided that all of my basement junk should not be transported to the new house, since if I have not looked at it in two years it cannot be that important. So I spent the day sorting and tossing, and it was actually more fun than anticipated.

I opened every box and purged much of the clutter. Apparently, at one time I had thought it pertinent to keep all my notes and projects from every class ever taken… I decided that I will keep the major projects… anything with exemplary marks, or a colourful illustration, or bound and official looking, and get rid of the rest. I was careful to remove all the little scraps of paper between the pages and piled in the back of binders though… colourful notes scribbled and passed back and forth in marketing lectures and computer labs… that was the most fun… it was interesting to relive the conversations, and the nonsense, and the inside jokes.

There were dark things too… a sketch I drew in grade 11, the page splattered with little drops from the time I slit my wrist, in an incredibly stupid attempt to get my mother’s attention. I kept that, as a reminder, of just how much the mind matures and grows in a few short years, and how things are never as bad as they feel when you’re in the moment.

Perspective is a beautiful thing.

All kinds of papers… hand-written receipts from when we split the rent three-ways, and then two, back in Oshawa… a report card from my incomplete first attempt at post-secondary education… passive-aggressive notes on post-its and the backs of flyers and bills, kept as proof of a bitchy roommate… high school yearbook photos and random snapshots with loopy inscriptions on the back… I’s dotted with hearts and smiley faces, and proclamations of ever-lasting friendships that fizzled out years ago.

I kept the photos and threw away everything else.

There were strange things too… a white shoebox containing, among other things, a dried and pressed poplar leaf, a plastic lei, a tiny pewter teddy bear, a sketch of my own feet, and some movie stubs. Apparently these were very important to a teenaged-me. I kept this box and its contents intact… I like the idea of my hypothetical future children going through these things when I’ve become a crazy old woman, and remarking on what an interesting person I must have been when I was young.

Most things made me smile… and remember… and some things made me cry… copies of bills that I had no business paying at such a young age… an attempt at some sort of ledger, tracking my earnings at Tim Hortons in grade 9, and my attempts to save up for some back-to-school clothes that weren’t thrift-store bought… angsty poems written in purple gel pen… pictures of mom’s exes, removed from the photo albums so as not to piss off the new boyfriend… all little mementos of my complicated little life.