Apple-Cider Vinegar, Anyone?

I've had digestive issues since my first back surgery, nearly 14 years ago. I've seen several doctors about it, and have received nothing more than bandaid solutions that treated the symptoms but failed to identify the root cause. I was told, quite simply, that I have Gastritis. But they never seemed the slightest bit interested in finding out WHY.

Needless to say, I'm quite weary of fearing food because of the pain it may cause in my gut, so, about a month ago, I decided to do something about it. A friend of mine, Friz Berg, is nearing the end of his 4th year at the Boucher Institute of Naturopathic Medicine and treats patients in the Teaching Clinic there. Knowing how passionate he is about what he is learning, I figured he was the best person to help me out.

I was immediately impressed by his professionalism and the thorough nature of his diagnostic approach. He has been completely present at every appointment, leaving no stone unturned. I can't tell you what a relief it is to actually have someone listen intently without cutting me off in mid-sentence and then prescribing Pepcid AC. I can tell he actually cares and sincerely wants to help me feel better.

So, today marks the end of week one on my restricted diet. I'm avoiding dairy, soy & wheat, have to eat protein with every meal, drink a capful of Apple-Cider Vinegar in water before each meal and I'm taking a handful of supplements as well. It's forcing me to be absolutely aware of everything I consume and I'm finding that I quite enjoy the challenge. Considering that I am supposed to be eating 6 small meals a day, I've been spending A LOT of time in the kitchen! I can't just grab a snack and go...it takes a fair amount of planning. I'm sure that this will become easier as the weeks wear on, but it's definitely taking some getting used to.

However, I'm already becoming far more creative with my meals. I don't think I've ever eaten so many nuts and seeds! So far, my favorite creation was a fabulous organic salad built on a bed of leafy greens with yellow and orange bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, carrots, avocado, sprouts and lightly roasted sesame and sunflower seeds and almonds. I made a tasty dressing of Olive Oil, Balsamic, Apple-Cider Vinegar, Lemon Juice, a touch of Dijon and some yummy spices and topped it all off with some nutritional yeast and freshly ground flax, sunflower and pumpkin seeds. I tell ya, it was a gorgeous looking salad and tasted even better. This morning I had another of my new favorites, Plain Organic Yogurt with sliced kiwi fruit, sesame seeds and a bit of honey. MMMM!

I think I could get used to this!

Life-giving Rain...

The view from my window is one that I historically might have called 'miserable'. All is gray and damp. Drops of rain accumulate on bare branches like winter jewels while chilly air creeps in through a poorly sealed back door. March is upon us...bulbs are breaking soil...yet, here I sit, wrapped in a scarf...our fireplace flickering with precious heat. This...is Vancouver. I admit, I was more than reluctant to leave the warmth of my bed this morning. How lovely it would've been to remain there, curled up in my cozy duvee, lost in the pages of my book. I allowed myself 20 minutes of leisure before the day's 'To-Do' list got the better of my senses and forced me out of bed. And now I find myself here, inspired to write about my shifting perspectives...

The rain was once a symbol of my fragile emotional landscape. The dreariness that lurked within every dark cloud seemed to reflect my deeply tumultuous spirit and rainy days would find me gazing out the window, lamenting over every perceived misfortune. My heart was heavy and my head was full of reasons why. Like well-placed dominoes, one sad thought would set off a downward spiral and I would be left wallowing in a crumpled mess of self-pity. The rain really had nothing to do with it, but it gave my mind a reason to ruminate.

Today, however, is different. Instead of losing myself in a self-spun quandary, I'm looking beyond the fog and seeing evidence of Spring all around me. Delicate, bright green buds are beginning to uncurl, pushing their way through layers of fallen leaves and amongst the shriveled remains of last season's clematis, graceful new vines are growing.

Our little patch of earth spends most of the year without the kiss of sunshine. In midsummer, it boasts lively plants and the occasional flower, but the winter finds it forever wet, even on sunny days. Yet, somehow, despite the marked lack of light, new life always pushes its way through. The plants simply grow, absorbing whatever light they get and thriving despite the ominous gray, happy for the endless rain that falls.

I'd like to think that is a better reflection of me these days...that my disposition is more akin to the effortless growth of a seedling than the stormy uncertainty of a raincloud.

Finally found a new home!

If you're reading this, I hope you've stumbled upon my new, lovely website. Thanks to the talented Ms. Dalyn for building me such a stellar site!

I suppose I could've been blogging since my last website went offline, but, what can I say...it just wasn't a priority. Now that I know people are visiting this space again, I will be more diligent about updating it. :)

xoz

Time to move on......

So....seems totally unreal that I have not updated this site in over a year, but it's painfully true. In fact, I think it's approaching two years now.

Truth is, my 'real' life is simply too involved and doesn't allow much time for a 'virtual' one. First it was a seasonal depression...then a wedding...and now, an intensive education. That...and my good friend who has hosted this site since it's inception is finally pulling the plug.

So...until I can find a new home for this space...it'a going offline. Thank you all for visiting. I know at least a few have enjoyed the pictures! And I have enjoyed sharing them. Perhaps I've simply outgrown it....

I will eventually be publishing a site dedicated solely to my photography as part of this program, so...you havent seen the last of me!

Until then....

xoxo

SAD thoughts.....

I was recently asked to write a few words regarding Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD. This was the first time I'd attempted to write about it and as I sat down to do so, I realized just how desperate I was to share my experience. I found it incredibly liberating and therapeutic. My deepest gratitude to Tanya Pea for inspiring me to write such a candid narrative....

Here are my personal revelations:

I had never even heard of SAD until I moved to Vancouver. Coming from California and it's cozy proximity to the equator, the brutal reality of living this far North was just too much for me to wrap my head around. On the contrary, it seemed to wrap itself around me with the unyielding determination of a boa constrictor. It knocked me flat on my ass and I hadn't the slightest clue what hit me. It was impossible to identify what, precisely, was amiss. The only thing I knew with absolution was that I felt truly miserable.

Of course, hindsight is 20/20, but it's extremely difficult to see the quagmire when you're so immersed and I had no previous experience by which to measure this one. Nothing remotely comparable to weigh it against and find a familiar comfort in. No...this kind of lackluster melancholy was altogether foreign to me and, admittedly, rather disconcerting. I've never been so utterly lost in myself.

For me, that was the most infuriating aspect...my profound inablity to identify and resolve this ambiguous ailment. I nearly had myself convinced that I was clinically depressed and needed professional help. As in....I surrender, show me the Prozac. Through the worst of it, I couldn't even muster the energy to write...my tried and true, fail-safe cure for the blues.

I was in a quandary. More so than I have ever been in my 30 years.

My first bout of SAD happened to coincide with some painfully sobering realizations regarding my move to Canada. Namely, the permanence of my emigration and all of the sticky intricacies surrounding that as well as the knowledge that my family and friends will always be 1000 miles away...that my nieces and nephews will only know me in the smallest of doses. Such things are difficult to reconcile on their own, much less with the added duress of some improbable-sounding curse called 'seasonal affective disorder'.

Everyone kept telling me I must be suffering from SAD and that I should be staring into some special light every morning. Quite honestly, I thought they were being facetious, mocking me...'yes, thanks for stating the obvious...I am sad, it's true.' In fact, they could not have been more serious. Patrick encouraged me to visit the tanning salon but I had zero motivation to do so. The very notion that a weekly fake-n-bake session might help raise me from the doldrums seemed far-fetched and ludicrous. In retrospect, it likely would've helped, but I still didn't understand how substantial this affliction really is. I don't think I truly began to comprehend until the days gradually started to get longer. Ever so slowly my overall mood begin to lift and I could no longer deny the affects of a virtually sunless winter.

I remember one particularly dismal day in November. I was walking to work at 8:20 and the sun was only beginning to rise. That afternoon, as I headed home on foot at 4:15, the sun was already making its rapid descent. When I realized that the days were only going to get shorter.....I became destitute. Every fibre of my being told me to find a dark cave somewhere, curl up into an invisible ball and close my eyes until spring. The sky dropped endless curtains of rain, drowning out the last bits of light in me and my already faded aura seemed to lose all trace of color.

I felt so....heavy....bottomless...terribly confused...irrational....anti-social....irritable....impossibley tired....lifeless........vacant.

Like I was imprisoned in a tiny, padded box viewing the world through splintered cracks and hearing nothing but muffled scratches...my perception blurred by layer upon layer of cotton...anesthetized...dull.

There is a moment of disquiet that comes just before a black-out when suddenly the world seems muted and distant as the rush of blood to your ears obliterates every sound aside from your strangled heartbeat. Steadying oneself requires the ability to focus and calmly breathe through it....to find your solid center and regain a reliable footing. Otherwise, your world goes dark and you find yourself flat on your back, wondering how the hell you got there.

I feel like I existed perpetually in that state from September to February. I simply couldn't break myself out of it. I cursed the calendar for it's stubborn, reluctant progress and I celebrated December 20th, the shortest day of the year, because it signified the apex of my misery. Every day thereafter couldn't help but grow longer. I just had to survive until then....

And now I know how to endure. Next Autumn, as the leaves begin to yellow and fall from their source and the imminent black-out is threatening, I'll be better prepared. I know now that the onset of winter marks the inevitable sinking of the spirit. So I'm bracing myself...planting early reminders that I've just gotta breathe through it. Perhaps, with practice, I may even learn to embrace it...pour myself a glass of good Merlot, nestle in next to the fire and read a libraries worth of books. Perhaps, instead of allowing myself to be sapped dry, I can use the time to revujinate...replenish....restore. A more humane way to hibernate.

Despite my harrowing winter, Vancouver has stolen my heart, taking the lead as the most beautiful city I've ever had the privilege of calling 'home'. Of course, that's easy to say now that the sun seems to be more of a reliable resident than a sporadic guest. Everything feels so much...lighter(no pun intended.) The city, that for months felt so stale and hushed, is suddenly bursting with life. The people, it would seem, are blooming along with the trees. And I am proudly flaunting my new foliage along with the rest!

I am in awe of the beauty that surrounds me. The fragrant cherry blossoms and magnolias that drop pastel petals like snow...the lush green of fresh maple leaves just outside my bedroom window and the budding hydrangea by my front door. The vibrant array of tulips and daffodils springing up on every corner...the pungent smell of freshly cut grass permeating the air....the generous smiles and sincere 'how do you do's' of every passer-by.

While the winter found me lethargically snoozing 'til noon, I've now been transformed into a cheery morning person(Who knew!) I wake up hungry for the day, eager to get outside and drench myself in Vitamin D...a desperate effort to soak up the warm resonance of spring.

Like I'm stockpiling...
.............building secret reserves...
............................plotting ways to outsmart the sun.

Feels like spring!

This morning's view from my bedroom window.....

Think I'll go soak up some sunshine. I've got a hankerin' for some Vitamin D....

PS...

What an incredibly GORGEOUS day! Ideal conditions for a Sunday stroll with friends. We walked along Spanish Banks, a small handful of us, all happy for the clear, sunny afternoon. We were even lucky enough to see two eagles, soaring gracefully above our heads and perched quietly in the trees.

There was a crisp chill in the air, but the blazing sun made it tolerable. Nothing a scarf and mittens couldn't cure! Still, it's hard to believe it was snowing just two days ago!

I love this city. I don't think I'll ever get used to the stunning skyline...

Where does all the time go?

It's true...I have grown increasingly neglectful of this space. I'm sure, externally, it appears as though I simply no longer care. On the contrary, I am racked with guilt everytime I think about it. I'm not entirely sure why that is. Perhaps it reflects something deeper...a general sense of dissatisfaction regarding my own complacency? Sounds like something I would be guilty of, for sure...always my own worst critic.

My life over the last year or so has become far more centralized around day to day living, leaving little energy for the upkeep of this immaterial, intangible world. Yet, it haunts me...mocking me for being so completely engrossed that I can't find the time to type a few lines on occasion. I owe no apologies, yet I feel undeniably sorry for allowing such delinquency to persist. So...here I am, clumsily attempting to make amends for my imaginary wrong-doing. *Sigh*

So, now that I've got that confession out of the way, perhaps it would be prudent to actually write about something remotely interesting. What a novel idea! How about a glimpse into my current state of mind?

My thoughts at present:

My personal evolution has always been a subtle, undefinable thing. I'm sure there are those who would argue, but I feel that's generally true for just about everyone. Who can say what, precisely, effects a change in someone? I'm sure it's a plethora of things that collectively reshape you gradually. But every now and then something extraordinary happens and in one, pivotal moment you are forever transformed.

I can't recall ever being so keenly aware of life's truly altering moments AS THEY OCCUR. But that's the sense I've had for the last week. There are so many things cramming my skull full of contrasting emotions. I am simultaneously thrilled and terrified by a handful of possibilities. And what scares me most is that everything depends on my ability to nurture my own potential...something I have never been very good at.

I would've thought that, by 30, my need for external validation would have diminished. But, quite honestly, I still find it extremely difficult to believe that I am good enough or talented enough or worthy of praise. It's only after the adamant insistence of others that I can almost see the beauty in my creations. What is that about? I wonder if I'll ever outgrow this relentless perfectionism. It has cost me so much more than I can even begin to quantify. Retrospective evaluation of one's self can be brutally telling...particularly for one so predisposed to self-loathing as I.

I'm reluctant to specifically account for the various reasons behind my current mental upheaval as some superstitious part of me fears I might jinx it. So, for now, I've got my life on pause. I simply have to work a few things out in my head before I can move forward. I'm beyond ready to leave this crippling fear of failure behind and actually make something of myself. I just have to ensure that I have the proper footing first. At least I've learned that much.

I know I'm being horribly vague. I promise I'll be more revealing once I've sorted my self out. This...finally writing something down...has helped tremendously. Perhaps I should do so more often....

A New Decade...

30 feels no different....I still look 24 anyhow, so I suppose I'm doing alright. ;)

Patrick made my birthday unforgettable...jumped out of an airplane with me in the coldest, most crisp air I've ever breathed. It was wonderfully surreal and a complete surprise! The rest of my day was equally enjoyable with surprises continuing into the evening. A home, decorated to the nines with Halloween and Birthday wishes and filled with smiling, costumed friends followed by a stretch-limo overflowing with nine of my closest companions! Memorable, to say the least! :)

My only complaint was that everyone in San Francisco was not here to celebrate with me. But I suppose I can't have EVERYTHING, now can I?

Summer's End....

What a summer it has been! Vancouver is so incredibly beautiful when the sun is shining! Now I know that there is nowhere on the planet I would rather be during the summer months.

Patrick and I are starting to really feel at home in our new space. It's a whole new world to be homeowners, and I think we are adjusting to the change quite nicely. Granted, we're taking our time finding all the right spots and perfect alignment for each picture, painting and mirror. And, yes...We still have a few boxes that remain unpacked. But that's the beauty of knowing we'll be here for awhile. We've got plenty of time to get it just right.

So, after much indecision and worry, I made my way South for my fifth year at Burning Man. I took a chance, as I wasn't really supposed to leave the country. Regardless of the risk, I couldn't really resist. Karen and Super Dave made it damn near impossible to say no. I can't even begin to thank them for their collective generosity. I didn't expect it, but this turned out to be my best year yet. And, I'm happy to report, crossing back into Canada could not have been more seamless and smooth.

I have to acknowledge the people that made my week so spectacular. After all, that really is what this year was about for me. I honestly can't even begin to explain how truly amazing my camp mates were...are. If you can imagine 40 or so of the most talented, generous, selfless, and nurturing individuals...then perhaps you're close to understanding what my week was like.

If you've spent more than five minutes with me, you know how ridiculously full of compliments I am. If I think you are lovely, I tell you...over and over and over again. Well...I was surrounded by people who are all equally forthcoming with their opinions. It felt like a creative cocoon, from which each of us could emerge to accomplish just about anything. Never have I felt so...accepted, respected, supported and admired by so large a group. It really is difficult to put into words, but one of my camp mates described it as falling in love over and over again.

I truly enjoyed everyone's company and spent my afternoons lounging at 'home', our basecamp at 3:30 & Fetish. I awoke every morning with noble intentions to get on my bike and explore the playa, but I could never make myself follow through. It just seemed that my camp provided all the entertainment I needed. I had many of those moments of uncontrollable laughter when you're convinced your bladder won't hold! I was even lucky enough to be a canvas for one of the most phenomenally talented artists I've ever met whom I will refer to as 'Chime'. He gave me a new sharpie tatoo everyday! And to add to my collection, Freddie scrolled the word 'Sassy' across my lower back in typical tatoo fashion. Early in the week, Mark dubbed me 'Sassypants' and it definitely stuck. I think it was fitting, as I felt particularly fiesty and playful this year.

As I made my way South, I had no idea that I would be contributing to an incredible project, but that's how things unfolded. My camp had been planning and preparing for months. I was simply fortunate enough to join their formitable efforts and help them bring their vision to fruition. We built a tibetan style tea temple in the middle of the open Playa and served high-quality Oolong tea. So many of our visitors thanked us profusely for the refuge. They said it was a little oasis from the chaos that surrounded us and that's precisely what it was. Quite unintentionally, I spent most of my week there. I just couldn't seem to make myself leave! Honestly, there was nowhere on the Playa I would rather have been. I suppose I needed the undeniable calm it offered.

On Tuesday evening, I happily entered the temple's inner circle and served tea with my new friend, Mark. It was, without a doubt, one of the most gratifying experiences of my life. Our guests were so patient, watching us steep and pour tea with such quiet gratitude. There was such a complete lack of expectation. People just seemed so sincerely thankful and relieved to have a moment off their feet, away from the dust and out of the wind. Some stumbled in for a moment of rest and remained seated at our tables for hours. It truly was a uniquely peaceful space amid an overwhelming swirl of noise and neon. I am just so thankful to have been part of such a lovely project.

Needless to say, I had a hard time saying goodbye. Parting ways with my sweet Karen was especially painful. Spending an entire week with her was precisely what I needed. We have a particularly wordless and comfortable connection that is all the more intense when we're on the Playa. Besides Patrick, she is the only person who finishes my sentences and I hers with eerie regularity. Sometimes conversation between us is simply unnecessary. I suppose that's what comes from maintaining such a close bond for 13+ years. As she says...we're little twin souls!

Readjusting to life back in Vancouver after such a...saturated...week has proven more challenging than I recall from previous years. For me, attending Burning Man is always a form of catharsis. It's subtle and difficult to define, but I always feel it on some level, however slight. The Playa is like sandpaper, softening and redefining my edges. Perhaps it's the dust...the ubiquitous substance that gets between all the cracks and forever changes a thing. I am by no means immune. I can wash my clothes and rinse my skin, but just like the cameras I've so reluctantly sacrificed to the desert, some bit of dust always remains in all those hard to reach places. It's an irreversable affliction and I am happily infected. I can only hope that the inspiration I gained throughout the week remains vibrant for the rest of the year.

Speaking of inspiration, I took more pictures this year than ever before so reducing them all to a manageable size is a terribly daunting task. I have begun, however, so you can expect a colorful new album sooner than you might think.

Until then...here's a snapshot to wet your palette...

Surviving the Whirlwind....

As my last post surely indicated, my life has taken many turns in recent months. All for the better, but overwhelming, none-the-less. Patrick and I exchanged our vows in a quiet, modest fashion on May 9th. It's what we would've done eventually...Immigration simply changed our timeline. I've quite enjoyed the subtle changes between us, but I'm pleased to say that it really hasn't changed much at all. We are still as playful and starry-eyed as we were two years ago. :) And, as if getting married weren't enough of a shift, we purchased our first home the following week! We absolutely love it, although we have yet to fully settle in. Our series of events has inspired more than one joke about a bun in the oven. Allow me to lay that one to rest...it'll be awhile before we take that step. ;)

And, once again, Patrick managed to thoroughly surprise me. He seems to be rather adept at doing so! After collecting me at the Amtrak station on July 13th, he led me into a house covered in red rose petals and before I knew what was happening, he dropped onto one knee and officially proposed to me. I'm sure my answer was obvious considering the fact that I'm already his wife!! He presented me with the most beautiful ring, complete with a perfect diamond that once graced his grandmother's hand. He said he felt I deserved it. *blush* I truly appreciate the gesture. And this time, it has nothing to do with Immigration. We are planning a proper ceremony for sometime next summer. So, I suppose you could say we are happily married and newly engaged! It's all still a bit surreal...

I hope you are all well! We still have no internet at home, so I apologize if I seem disconnected. I have many emails to respond to and I promise I will as soon as possible!!

Cheers!
-Mrs. Wilson

Disbelief...

...The last few weeks have been...surreal, and heartbreaking.

I recently learned that my application for Permanent Residence was refused.

We have yet to receive the offical refusal letters, but I gather it has something to do with the validity of my relationship with Patrick and our failure to demonstrate just how genuine it is. That...or, even worse, that we don't fit the true definition of 'Conjugal Partners' as described by immigration quidelines. At this point, all we have is conjecture and we're forced to wait for that ever-elusive documentation before we can move forward.

We have every intention of appealing, although the added cost is a painful notion. Lawyers don't come cheap. Thankfully, we have the support of Patrick's parents, emotional and otherwise, so we'll be fighting this tooth and nail. Regardless, it's extremely frustrating to be so grossly misjudged. I have yet to confirm their reasons, but if it's as I think it is, we've both been accused of falsifying our romance and going to great lengths to fabricate things. How ironic, that the most genuine relationship of my life has been dubbed invalid and disingenuous. They couldn't be more wrong. Patrick is my REASON, not my MEANS. I just hope we can convince them of that in our appeal.

I'm doing my best to live my life without over-analyzing, as I am so prone to do. But, quite honestly, this is truly testing my patience. This entire process has been a series of difficult lessons, forcing me to shift perspectives repeatedly. Patrick is eternally calm and practical, reminding me often that this is just another hurdle...one more speed bump. We've overcome so many difficulties to be together...we'll get through this. In fact, it's these continuously challenging obstacles that strengthen our relationship. Still, that doesn't make this any easier to endure.

When I first learned of this I was so completely devastated that I couldn't even bring myself to write about it. I was so buried in my disappointment that I didn't know how to share it. It's all been too overwhelming. I didn't even phone my Mum until a few days ago. And I've had to remind myself that...this is not just happening to me. It's Patrick's struggle as well. If I'm lying, then so is he. It's incredibly infuriating to be accused of such a thing. And the worst part is the hopeless feeling that overcomes me when I realize I am nothing more than a stack of misread papers, inaccurately assessed by some faceless, heartless someone who never even met me. It makes me feel quite ill....

I want nothing more than to simply live my life and move forward, unhindered. Yet I have so many bureaucratic snags to untangle before I can SIMPLY BE. I find myself longingly observing people...walking their dogs, lounging on benches and chatting casually over coffees...and I'm jealous of them. I envy their comfortable routines. It's the pursuit of that...a life were I can be with the man I love AND be allowed to study and work and be self-sufficient...that propels me. It really isn't so much to ask, is it?

Thankfully, I can say that this has yet to adversely effect our relationship. We are still very much in love and simply happy to be together, despite the ensuing hassle. Seeing him everyday is worth every bit of adversity. He is and will forever be...my rock. What we have is so mutually beneficial and supportive...always has been. It baffles me that they would see us for anything other than we are. And I'm still shocked that they would think this is simply a relationship of convenience.

We'll get through this. It took me a moment to steady myself and regain my trust in that. But, now that I've had awhile to sit with it...I think I've accepted this as just another step. Sure it would've been nice if they hadn't made such a grossly inaccurate assessment, but all we can do now is accept it and move forward.

It's all just part of the game. Were it not for the arduous journey, how would I ever appreciate just how far I've come? Who knew I'd wind up battling Canadian Immigration in defense of something so unarguabley genuine and beautiful?

Yummy Sunshine!

Today is spectacularly sunny and wonderfully warm. I have to admit that my mood seems to be directly linked to the weather, becoming heavy and somber when it's overcast and conversely light and cheery when the sky is blue. If this is what summers are like in Vancouver...then I seem to have landed in the perfect city. :)

I haven't much news to report...things remain virtually the same. Granted, I've relaxed into my leisurely existence here much more than when last I posted. Everything is softened by time, including my disposition. Thankfully, I've found a comfortable acceptance regarding my immigration process. I can do nothing but wait and I'm learning how to do so, gracefully. As with anything...practice makes perfect.

I do want to inform anyone who visits this space regularly that my site will be relocating to a new server sometime in the next few days. I can't say precisely when, nor can I estimate how long it will be down, but it will be unavailable during this move. This also means that I will not be receiving email at my site address. If you have an alternate email addy for me, please use that instead.

I'll be sure to post again as soon as my site is reactivated! Until then...take care and Dream Well....

xoxo

Pushing forward....

Nearly a month into it and I finally feel as though I can sit down and try to put everything into words.

This is a new place for me and I am, admittedly, having a bit of difficulty adjusting. It's a challenge, despite my knowledge of these circumstances before I arrived. You never can tell how you'll respond until you're 'in it'. I had hoped I would feel settled, to some degree, but having encountered that ugly snag at the border, I feel anything but. It's hard to relax when so much remains undetermined, and worse yet that everything is out of my hands. It's unnerving...to say the least.

Historically, I don't do well when I'm not working and this is no exception. But I'm doing my best to stay positive and keep myself occupied. Thankfully, I have other ways to pass the time. Were it not for Kate, I think I would be a whole new kind of miserable. She introduced me to Indoor Climbing and I instantly fell in love with it. Now we climb together at least twice a week. It's incredibly therapeutic for me. Besides the obvious physical benefits, it's the one thing that allows me to stop thinking about my aforementioned frustrations and just be in the moment. It's precisely what I need. And Kate's companionship is a godsend. I love that I'm here with Patrick, but a girl needs her girlfriends! My girls are decidedly distant and I miss them terribly.(Olivejuice)

I don't mean to sound negative...I am, after all, finally in Canada and I couldn't be happier about that. Waking up next to Patrick every morning is worth all of the internal struggle. I just have to remind myself of that sometimes. I don't know that I fully comprehend that I'm HERE yet. At times I still feel like I'll have to drive home in a few days. And what a lovely thing to realize that isn't so! Patrick and I remain strong...we are learning how to live together. Considering how seldom he's home, it hasn't been that much of a challenge! So far, everything seems to be falling into place quite naturally.

We spent the last week of January on Maui with Patrick's family. It was a perfect respite and I'm incredibly grateful to the Wilsons for taking us! We enjoyed various activities in the mornings and lounged on the beach or poolside in the afternoons. I grew a few new freckles and even tried my hand at surfing! Granted, Patrick had to assist me, but I did get up a few times! What stands out the most for me was our second day of scuba diving at the Cathedrals off Lanai'i. Not only was the location indescribably beautiful, but while diving we could hear whales singing! It made my heart race! I've heard plenty of recorded whalesongs in my lifetime, but this was altogether different.

We saw numerous Humpback whales throughout the week. There were alot of competition pods with males wrestling for their right to mate. They were surprisingly active at the surface, slapping their fins and flukes and occasionally breaching. I had never seen whales before and was childishly excited. We could even see them from our resort! I tried to take photos, but they were usually too far off to really get a good shot. We went ocean rafting and came very close to an active pod so I did manage to capture one exceptional image....

I'll be posting more pics from our trip soon! I certainly have enough time!

I hope that all is well...please sign my guestbook and let me know how your lives are unfolding. I miss everyone and would love to hear news of you....

xoxo

Home, at last.....

After one of the most emotionally trying days of my life, I can finally say that I'm HOME. Granted, these are not the circumstances I had imagined or hoped for, but at least I am here.

The day started out well enough...we were packed and ready to hit the road at noon, right on target. We climbed into the Pathfinder and headed for the border, leaving a very teary-eyed Holly and little Caleigh behind. I had the tiniest nagging worry about what would happen once we reached the border, but I did my best to ignore that. I wanted so much to believe that it was nothing more than a lingering bit of the anxiety I've had for the last two weeks. You would think that I'd have learned to trust my intuition by now. ....Apparently not...

Much to my dismay, those feelings of impending doom were not so far off target. In fact, the one possibility that distressed me most became a reality. After selling my car, quitting my job, packing up my life and presenting myself honestly at the border....I was turned away.

The officer asked me a series of very poignant questions...with the subtle indication that I must answer honestly yet CORRECTLY. Her words rolled out slow and heavy....'Are the belongings you have with you all of your worldly possessions? Meaning...if you moved across the world permanently, are these the things you would take with you?'....I looked her straight in the eye and paused. It was one of those moments when everything in your periphery vanishes and the world falls silent. I knew that my fate was hinged upon my answer, and yet I COULD NOT LIE. I said YES, despite the acute knowledge that I was shooting myself in the foot by doing so. My honesty destroyed me. Being truthful was the single most nocuous thing I could have done. And how awful is that?...to be so compromised by the truth? It's bureaucratic bullshit like this that inspires underhanded behaviour. I was simply trying to do everything by the books, respecting the system and trusting that it would work in my favor. Now I know better....

I was refused entry because moving my belongings into the country indicates that I have no intention of ever leaving(which, of course, is true). Regardless of the fact that I am a Permanent Resident Applicant, I am not allowed to live here until my application is accepted. And who knows how long that will be...months?...a year, maybe? The legislation makes sense, but it cares nothing for the human side of things. Apparently, we failed to notice the fine print on our 'Conjugal Partner' Application. According to the Immigration officer, Patrick and I are not allowed to live together until my Permanent Resident Visa is granted, simply because those were the circumstances under which we applied. How ridiculous is that?? Even if I got pregnant tomorrow...no, I'd have to remain in the States. We just want to be together! It seems so painfully simple and yet they make it virtually impossible.

So, after about an hour of doing my best to hold it together, I finally broke down. She said...'You guys have been doing this for two years...what's another six months?'.....I just lost it. She was trying to be sympathetic, but she had no idea just how painful that statement was. She tried to tell me that she knew how hard it was for us to be apart. I had to gently correct her. I don't think she has any clue just how miserable it's been to endure the forever repeated 'Goodbye'. It's been hard on both of us. Yes...we've made it work, but it's been nothing short of agonizing.

She really was trying to find some way to help, dropping little hints and saying things in such a tone as to indicate that she actually meant the opposite...and that, 'Hypothetically', I could get away with staying here for six months, as long as I didn't have my things with me and abided by all the visitor regulations. She made it clear that I wasn't the problem. She said that, as an officer, she wasn't worried about ME. It was just a matter of the goods I brought with me. Apparently I did everything right...just a bit too early.

In all honesty, I'm perfectly happy with how things turned out. As long as I'm here with Patrick, I could care less where my things are stored. It's the complete lack of help for someone in my situation that upsets me. I was terribly misinformed, regardless of the fact that I bent over backwards trying to get a straight answer from someone as to what I could or couldn't do as a PR applicant. Just last week I tried yet again, hoping to find some clarity. The Consulate General in Seattle referred me to the Customs Call Centre, who then transferred me to the Customs Office at the border, who then referred me right back to the Consulate General and NO, there was not a number I could call so that I could speak directly with someone at the Blaine Immigration office. That's the infuriating scenario that has played out numerous times over the last ten months.

I finally stopped at the border about a month ago, for unrelated reasons, and I had a chance to speak with the Customs Supervisor at the Peace Arch Crossing. He was incredibly helpful and friendly, a stark difference from the aforementioned run around I was accustomed to. So I chose to operate under the assumption that he knew what he was talking about. After all, he was only about the tenth person who told me that I could move up on a visitor visa, no problem. He also claimed that I would be treated as though I were 'Landing' and my goods would be processed accordingly. I admit, it was my err to have believed him rather than walking the extra 20 paces into the nearby Immigration Office and asking them directly. A mere ten minutes would have saved us a day of pointless driving. But, in my naivete, I thought the two entities were connected. Customs and Immigration...two entirely different worlds...and now I know.

At least I had Patrick with me through yesterday's disappointments. Had I been alone, I would have crumbled completely. What an incredible man...he turned the car around and drove us back to Seattle. We stored my ill-fated 'goods' in Holly's basement and then turned right around and made the drive North AGAIN. It occurred to me at one point to simply dump my trappings somewhere and rid myself completely of the obvious burden. I've felt bogged down by my possessions in the past, but THIS...this put a whole new spin on things. The fact that I was turned away because I had my 'worldly possessions' assumes that 'things' hold more value for me than people. I told the officer as much. What about the family that I'm leaving behind? They hold far more draw for me than these meaningless objects yet, according to Immigration, if I have my belongings with me, I'll never leave Canada. Perhaps that's just my emotions talking. But it's just so much red-tape! Never before have I felt so bound...

Needless to say, it was an exceptionally exhausting day. But I'd like to think that I learned from it. And, as I've observed before, Patrick and I work very well under such arduous conditions. They only serve to further my appreciation for what we have, reminding me just how invaluable this relationship is. I could not ask for a more grounding, supportive and comforting partner. He encourages me to do more, inspires me to be more and loves me despite my failings. Who can blame me for wanting so to be near him? For that...I would relinquish all material possessions.

THAT...is where the system got it wrong...

So close....

I feel as though I haven't written in months. Perhaps that's because I haven't! My focus truly has been elsewhere.

Last night I made the drive South, from Vancouver to Seattle...for the last time. In two short weeks, Patrick and I will make the final drive North...my belongings tucked into the Pathfinder, ready for one last border crossing.

To say that I am excited would be a gross understatement. But I've also got this lingering anxiety...ever so subtle yet there nonetheless. I suppose it's only natural...I am, after all, leaving the country permanently. It's an entirely new feeling...one that I haven't the experience to properly describe. I think, to some degree, I'm stepping gingerly...carefully calculating every move so as not to disrupt the delicate passing of things. It's difficult to simply trust that all will unfold as I want it to...as I NEED it to.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that, for the first time in my adult life I can honestly say that all is as it should be. I have no complaints. My needs are in no way compromised. I have all that I need to build myself a happy, productive, FULFILLED life. And yet this devilish little worry insists on pestering me, trying to convince me that something drastic and catastrophic will foil my plans. It's a horrid feeling...really.

I'm doing my best to quell that bit and focus instead on all the minor things that need to happen between now and the 16th. I'd like to believe that I DO control my own fate. I just have hoops to jump through before the wheel is handed back to me. As long as I remember that...I can relax and let the days pass in a quiet, unremarkable manner. A little bit of patience goes a long way.

Plus, I just returned from ten days with Patrick so I'm all 'stocked up' on lovin'! Should be enough to get me through these last few days in the states. We celebrated the holidays with his family and all of our friends in Vancouver and Victoria. It was a lovely little glimpse into what it will be like to finally live there. And I have to admit, regardless of my fast-approaching move, it made it rather difficult to come back to Seattle. Patrick is consistently good to me and I am one very spoiled girl! It used to be that I could tolerate several months without seeing him. Now...two weeks feels like two months! I'll be there soon enough...

I hope all is well and smiles are plenty. If you feel so inspired, take a moment to sign my guestbook and let me know how your lives are unfolding. I'd love to hear from you!

xoxo

Shameful Passport...

Something happened...I can't say precisely when...but somewhere along the way my dissent turned to bitter shame.

I think it began in Israel during that ill-fated trip nearly ten years ago. Although I had no way of knowing how much deeper my disgust would one day be. I recall being disturbed at the site of McDonalds and various other American fast-food chains. I was also considerably confused as to why the Israeli's held America in such high esteem. Of course, I had little knowledge of American Politics at the time. Otherwise, I may have better understood. Israel simply wouldn't exist were it not for America's support.

Since then...I feel like I've existed in this apathetic stupor, not fully understanding my own discomfort, yet knowing that I was anything but proud of my heritage. I never cared about the goings on in Washington...why should I? These things didn't affect me. Like so many Americans, I floated along in my impenetrable little bubble, paying little attention to what transpired within, let alone beyond, our borders.

Then George W. and 9/11 happened...and our subsequent preemptive wars. Something in me shifted and my apathy turned to vehemence. I marched on Market Street, screamed in disagreement and marveled at the media's mistelling of things. My sudden, intensely emotional involvement confused me, but I did my best to embrace it. I even voiced my heavily opinionated views on my extended family's website, thinking it was a safe place to vent, only to find that MY OWN FAMILY supported Bush. They did not take kindly to my rants and what followed was a grossly imbalanced and sad exchange between myself and a few Aunts and Cousins. My relationship with them suffered seemingly irreparable damage and I'm not sure it will ever recover. I'm sure my 'family' was as ashamed of me as I am of this country. What irony! I suppose like the details of ones citizenship, biological family members are not something we consciously choose. Nevertheless...that war of words gave me a platform to really explore my beliefs and only served to strengthen my convictions.

My recent trip to Asia delivered the final, substantial blow...like ice-cold water disturbing my already fitful slumber. I remember the inclination to be defensive when confronted with the almost pungent distaste for Americans. But I also felt far more compelled to agree with them and subsequently expose them to the redeeming aspects, namely, those of us who are deeply opposed to the way our government shapes things. I wanted all those other travellers to know that not ALL Americans were shameful, ignorant creatures. But...in all honesty...who can really blame them for thinking so? I just truly disliked the immediately judgmental response I experienced upon revealing my nationality. It was a somewhat snide, cynical chuckle that implied...'Riiight...a yankee. Let's see what you have to say...' I always felt like I was starting off with imbalanced footing...like I had no choice but to prove my worth AND prove them wrong.

There were times when I was tempted to lie and claim to be Canadian, simply for the SIMPLICTY of it. But, alas, I was with Patrick who is fiercely proud of his heritage and doesn't take lightly to people hiding beneath Canada's good name. Apparently, it's a common occurrence...American travellers sew Canadian patches to their backpacks to avoid what seems to be a universally negative reaction. I couldn't pretend to be from Canada...but that's when I decided that I WOULD be...someday.

The recent election proved it...If more than half the nation can proudly say they voted for Bush, then...this truly is not my country. I simply do not identify with blind patriotism and backwards religious beliefs that exclude anyone but heterosexual, Christian Republicans.

I don't want to fight that battle any longer. Perhaps it reveals a cowardice in me...but I don't want the shameful association that now comes with the passport I carry. I can't do anything about where I come from, but I can damn well change that fate for my children. Yes...I know the US has it's redeeming aspects...but my aforementioned opinions overshadow everything else for me. It's time to move on...

'There's this brutal imperial power that my passport says I represent, but it will never represent where my heart lives...only vaguely where it went.' -Ani DiFranco 2003

Quickly Crawling...

It's bizarre how time seems to stand painfully still while simultaneously hurtling forward at alarming speeds. I feel as though I've been marking an X on the same day for months now, yet, somehow October has already come and gone. Tomorrow is my firey big sister's birthday, a few days later the goblins come knocking and that can only mean that my birthday is just around the corner. How'd that happen?

I've been so preoccupied with sorting out my finances and working my way towards Canadian soil that the year has passed almost unnoticed. I suppose it's better that way. I do my best to stay busy so that I'll forget to be impatient. Sometimes though, I feel like those last few months are stretching themselves into years just to spite me. No matter how hard I try to ignore the calendar's taunts...there are days when I lose the battle. Today was one of those. Ya know...a 'grumpy for no reason' kind of day.

I'm tired. My Monday morning drive back to Seattle has become a terrible chore. I loathe dragging myself out of that warm, cozy bed at 4am, leaving Patrick in a comfortable slumber to climb into a cold, foggy car and traverse the dark, deserted streets of Vancouver. And now I have the added elements that winter brings. Heavy rain on the freeway at 4:30am is nowhere near the top of my list of favorites. Nor is the awful traffic that is simply unavoidable once I hit Everett. It's that last 35 mile stretch that really kills me. Somehow...I manage to survive. But I can't pretend that it's not wearing on me. I know...I do it to myself. I have the option to simply not go. But it's not just about seeing Patrick anymore. I have friends in Van, and...I need the break from Seattle. That's the trouble with living where I work, Friday rolls around and I desperately need a change of scenery.

Yesterday was particularly brutal. I arrived in Seattle at 7:15am and was immediately asked if I could walk the neighbor's dog. She's got two boys, an infant and a toddler, and her husband is out of town, making things quite complicated for her. Of course, I said yes. So I walked Lucy yesterday morning and was then asked if I could watch the boys last night. Again...how could I say no? Holly worked late yesterday, arriving home at 7:30, just in time for me to walk Lucy again and settle in with Sam & Oliver by 8pm. I didn't get to bed until nearly 11pm. Considering my 4am rising...I'm not entirely sure how I managed. I think it effected my mood today. Ironically...I walked Lucy AND watched the boys AGAIN tonight, immediately after Holly got home. Suddenly my childcare services seem like a hot commodity! Just call me Super Nanny! Super Nanny with a migraine...

Alright...enough whining. But what's a blog for if not to vent? Regardless of my aforementioned frustrations, I am thankful for the additional work. I need every extra penny I can pinch. I've done the numbers and I should have JUST enough to pay off my car before I move to Van January 15th. Let's just hope nothing drastic happens before then!

Also...as a personal warning to everyone I know, CHECK YOUR CREDIT REPORT. I recently discovered that some *@#hole had been using my SSN and name to open accounts. I am dealing with it, correcting everything and doing my best to fix all that they screwed up, but it's not my idea of a good time. Proving that I AM me and that some faceless someone is NOT is an entirely new kind of challenge. Plenty of red tape and loads of frustration. Not to mention how violated I feel. It really is a gross feeling. I did get a good chuckle however, when I discovered that, among others, 'I' had attempted to open an account at Casual Mens Big & Tall! Imagine that...Little 'ol me needing to shop at a place by that name! I don't suppose they require measurements when awarding someone credit over the internet, now do they? Nor do the Credit Bureaus list physical attributes. Perhaps they should...

Happy Halloween!...And a very Happy Birthday, Mirm!!...Next time I write, I'll be 29...

Still here...

...making the best of Seattle as it slowly turns cold & dreary.

I'm now living with Holly and Caleigh, although it's too soon to say how it's working out. All seems to be going well, but I'm still acclimating. I suppose it'll take awhile to really define my boundaries and learn to recognize Holly's. I can say, however, that I appreciate not living in that awful neighborhood anymore. And the complete lack of a daily commute is definitely something worth celebrating!

So...as I sit down to type this, it occurs to me that I'm not really sure why I even bother. It's not as though I really have anything noteworthy to say, and my entries have all but lost any trace of poetry. As Karen says, somewhere around Japan my writing lost its romance. Perhaps I've just grown up a bit? Regardless, I don't even know what the point is if no one ever reads it. At least, I have no indication that anyone does. For all I know, I'm simply spewing drab antecdotes and reporting trivial accomplishments to an audience of one....myself. And really...where's the sense in that? If you are one of the rare few that visits, please, do me a favor...say hello...leave a comment or two...(the option to do so is at the bottom of this entry and every other entry I've ever posted) I'm working on including a Guestbook, but it'll be awhile before that's a reality.

I know this website is horribly self-serving and vainglorious, but for some undefinable reason....I enjoy maintaining it. Mostly, it serves the purpose of reminding me that I have passions...that my life is not just comprised of obligatory activities and survival techniques and that the aqcuisition of money and its subsequent promise of comfort are not the only things worth striving for.

I think that's what scares me the most about getting older. It's the part of me that grows increasingly complacent...the part that seems to be growing ever more adept at crowding out any remnants of once vibrant dreams, replacing them instead with sized-down memories that are more easily tucked away and forgotten. It's like a cancerous amnesia that's slowly obliterating my creative self and I am at a complete loss as to how I can fight it. This unimaginative life is not what I envisioned...the little girl in me is grossly disappointed...

That being said...I do believe I'll go nurture my stolidity by sitting in front of the television. I've been chasing a toddler around all day and, quite frankly...I'm exhausted. How ironic is that? Nothing could be more vacuous than succumbing to the ridiculously pointless yet hypnotic ways of modern TV. No wonder I'm vanishing into myself...I'm completely lacking any trace of motivation! Ten consecutive hours with a one-year old will do that to ya.

Until next time...

Moving Forward...

How do you like my new site?!?

I'm still working on it, so please continue to check back for updates. :)

I am also pleased to say that I've had some developments with my immigration process. My application was contingent on their acceptance of Patrick's application to sponsor me. Much to my amazement, they've already declared him to be eligible, having met the requirements for sponsorship, and have sent my application on to Buffalo, NY! We still have a tremendous wait ahead, but the first major hurdle is now behind us. :) Reading the letter they sent Patrick, informing him of their positive decision...just makes the whole thing seem that much more attainable. Now...just cross your fingers and hope that they think as well of me...

Also, for those who don't already know, I'll be in San Francisco between the 28th of August and the 4th of September. I know...it's a bit of a shock that I'm not making my way to the desert this year, but I miss my family so much more than the debauchery of Burning Man, so it really doesn't seem like much of a sacrifice. Granted, mid-week will likely find me missing the Playa just a little, but I've no doubt that Ariana, Skyler & Aiden will be keeping me plenty busy and smiling! :)

Canadian in Training

So...after much deliberation, I've decided to stay in Seattle through the end of January. Less than two weeks from today I'll be saying goodbye to my apartment & sending my bed to live in Vancouver. Lucky bed! I'll remain here, staying with Holly & Caleigh during the week and continuing my weekly jaunt up I-5 to spend my weekends with Patrick.

I have to admit, I'm none too pleased about the prospect of another five months of this, but I truly believe that it's in my best interest. I've renegotiated my contract so that I will not be paid any less, nor will I be charged rent, in exchange for assuming further responsibility regarding house-keeping. This will allow me to pay off my car AND save a few bucks for my imminent move North. This really was the only logical decision...but that didn't make it any easier.

Still, regardless of this delay, I am making myself more and more at home in BC. It's the little things that make the weekly transition less traumatic. I've joined a gym two blocks from Patrick's apartment, acquired a Canadian cell-phone and opened a Canadian bank account. And, slowly but surely, I'm rebuilding some semblence of a social life up there. I really am Canadian in Training, as Patrick once referred to me. :)

BC is the home that I covet....Seattle is merely a transitory step. At least it's beautiful here, making this wait far more tolerable than it might have been.