spontaneous

Last night I got an envelope in the mail informing me of an interesting seminar, the 2011 National Conference on Hair Pulling and Skin Picking Disorders. Sound fascinating doesn't it? Probably not to too many. But being someone who has survived the isolation, anguish and adolescent horror of baldness as a result of a hair pulling disorder- it's exciting.

Even more so that it's happening in San Francisco and especially since I'm going to reward myself for living with Trichotillomania for 29 of my 40 years.I paid my registration, booked myself 3 nights in the super fabulous Good Hotel nearby (seriously check out that hotel link.. it's the coolest place: a free photo booth in the lobby, the entire hotel is furnished with recycled materials..). I have my plane ticket and even my BART pass for round trip travel to the airport.

For having spent nearly the last 29 years in almost closeted isolation of why I don't have any hair and not really knowing anyone else like me, I'm pretty excited to spend 3 days in seminars with people who acre about this topic as much as I do.

I'll be attending a mix of personal growth and research seminars:

SHHHH it’s a Secret Merrill Black, L.C.S.W./ Reiki Master
Secrecy can give power. Revealing the secret can be even more powerful. In this experiential workshop we will begin to peel away the layers of shame and the power of keeping the trich/skin picking a secret. Sharing the secret can help reduce the shame associated with it as well as help build your self-confidence and comfort level around having trich/skin picking.

Neurobiology of Trichotillomania and Related Disorders:
Implications for treatment
Sam Chamberlain MD, Jon Grant MD
With focus on ‘brain-based’ approaches towards understanding BFRBs, Dr. Chamberlain will highlight brain circuits thought to be involved in these conditions and how these have been explored using cognitive tests, brain scanning, drug studies, and animal models. Dr. Grant will describe how these findings have led to improved models of these conditions and new treatment directions, focusing on impulse control, mood, and addiction pathways.

Energy Psychology for Trichotillomania and other Body Focused Repetitive Behaviors: Part 1 of 2  Joan Kaylor, MSEd, LPC, NCC
Learn how to use emotional freedom technique (EFT) and Tapas Acupressure Technique (TAT)® for BFRBs. Session One will explain what these methods are. Participants will be invited to learn EFT specific to their pulling triggers. Please, no parents. This workshop is ONLY for adults struggling with trich or picking.

Energy Psychology for Trichotillomania and other Body Focused Repetitive Behaviors: Part 2 of 2 Joan Kaylor, MSEd, LPC< NCC
In session two, participants will be invited to learn and experience Tapas Acupressure Technique ® as a strategy for healing from BFRBs. Please, no parents. This workshop is ONLY for adults struggling with trich or picking.

Animal Models Joseph Garner, PhD
This session provides an overview of current animal models, emphasizing how human and animal work is integrated and complementary. Recent findings based on this work in the areas of diet and neurotransmitters as well as other developments and progress will be discussed.

Attending to the whole person: A Comprehensive Approach
Part 1 of 2 Renae Reinardy, Psy.D., LP This workshop provides a comprehensive approach to learning how to identify and balance mind, body and spirit in a way that facilitates personal growth and gains better control over BFRBs. Participants will work on developing their own “users guide” by learning strategies to develop their own self-balancing plan.
 
Attending to the whole person: A comprehensive approach
Part 2 of 2 Renae Reinardy, Psy.D., LP
The second part of this workshop delves deeper into the balance of mind, body and spirit and the effect this balance may play in recovery from BFRBs. Participants will work further on developing their own “users guide” by learning strategies to develop their own self-balancing plan.

 TLC’s 20th Anniversary Dinner

Join us for a delicious meal and celebration of TLC’s history – and future.
Help us blow out the candles on a birthday cake by the hotel’s award-winning pastry chef!

Translating Research into Improved Treatment: Q and A
Chaired by Jon Grant, MD, JD, MPH
Panel members: Sam Chamberlain, MD, Nancy Keuthen, PhD, Joseph Garner, PhD
Gain an understanding of how research has led to new treatment options, ask questions about the importance of research and recent discoveries, and gain insight into where the future of BFRB research may lead. 

Faces of Success: Closing Session
Moderated by Christina Pearson
Success and recovery are our goal.. .But what does that mean? Hear inspiring stories of real success and learn how to recognize success and recovery in your own struggle with these behaviors. This is the final event of the weekend, wrapping each of your own experiences into one package. Return home feeling motivated and prepared to continue working on recovery.

Fun huh? and if that's not enough.. Christina Pearson will be hosting and leading some of the seminars.. by far one of the most inspiring individuals I have ever met. She started this whole kit and kaboodle and has recovered from life long trich.

I'm pretty excited. It's going to be an amazing weekend and it all cost less than a 7 hr tattoo.

The town that died in 1964

downtown Port Arthur, Texas, originally uploaded by jilly71.

There's a little town way down near the Gulf of Mexico, in Texas. It's Port Arthur. A town famous for not much else than being the birthplace of Janis Joplin and it's because of that that I have been there twice in my life. Otherwise, I can't imagine what would take a person to travel 4000km to a small, worn out, dried up and nearly abandoned oil town on the crest of the Gulf.

So, that pretty much sums up this town. But, it's got a seed of mystery to it. It was once a thriving hub in the  center of the largest oil refinery network in the world. It boomed from nearby black gold. It thrived with parades, cafes, restaurants, music halls and bars. The American dreamt small town ideal. Apple pie and baseball, baby.

Did the nearby Beaumont pick up the boom? Did one too many hurricanes slam into main street and knock down too many buildings or did the smell of rotten eggs from the nearby oil refineries just get to be too much? Today main street Port Arthur is as dismal as it can get. It's entirely shuttered and boarded up- save for a weird karaoke bar and a museum of the Gulf Coast. (The same stuffed alligator is on display that was there 10 years ago).

The town's tallest building, the beautiful Sabine Hotel, with all it's windows open to breathe in the hurricane winds, stands obsolete and majestic on the corner of "The Past" and "No hope for the Future". Across the street, a brownstone with overhanging canopy is boarded up as well. Walking west down main street, we found the haunting reminders of what was once a business.. the carefully laid tiles of a cafe's entrance now exposed to the elements- the building long gone.I can't find a stitch of info on The Three Sisters. I'm dying to know what happened.

It was a cold day in Port Arthur, when I went back because I was in nearby Houston. The sun shone brightly and lit up the golden tones of the sandstone bricks. I was alone, walked the streets and imagined the hub of activity that happened so long ago. I found the boarded up Furniture store, The Hampton's. .Ironic, a name so synonymous with wealth, so haggard and absurd.. "Ham..", it's 50's font sign hanging by a thread. I found the old Greyhound Station; once taking teenagers with their carefully pressed clothes tucked into hard backed suitcases that didn't roll on wheels to adventures maybe in nearby New Orleans?

The station lay in ruins, the blue and white sign with the running Greyhound logo faded from the bright Texas sun and too much rain; moss growing inside.. I turned around when I heard the jazz horn and found the only other living person in Port Arthur.. he said he didn't live there.. he just came to play his horn. He looked at me like it was weird to see anyone else in Port Arthur, and it was. It was a sad town. The music stopped along time ago, but you could still hear the whistling from the memories blow across the barren, wall less rooms.

You can see the rest of my photos here..

absent is another word for Facebook

I'm driving to work today and I'm thinking.. I never post on my blog anymore...I used to really like to post on my blog..why don't I anymore, what's changed?

I'll tell you what's changed. I post everyday on Facebook and then I'm social media'd out. I'll try and change that and come round here more often.

Sorry all you non- Facebook addicts.

28. knit a pair of socks and wear them.


I can cross that off my list of things to do.. my sock knitting class (thanks Mom! it was a great gift) is over and I have successfully learned to knit a pair of socks.


Onwards to more pairs..

x

In January:

I went to see the polar bear swim in English Bay. I was sick, so I took photos. I was in a 100 day challenge to rid my body of wheat, dairy and sugar and blogged frequently about food. While in Seattle, I went to the Tacoma Museum of Art and bought a drinking glass molded from a baby doll head. I saw Patti Smith read from Just Kids and she stayed in the same hotel as me. I saw her in the lobby sitting 5 feet from me.

In February:

The Olympics came to town and I avoided it like the plague. I wrote more about food and how I was trying to avoid certain ones. Alexander McQueen dies, making himself a legend and a genius in one fall swoop. He probably was one.. but people have that tendency to say grandiose things when you die. I learned that a lack of calcium can really do a number on your nervous system. I stopped smoking pot once and for all.

In March:

I made videos with my new Ipod. I went to Toronto and payed my sister a visit in Montreal. We went to Swartz's Deli and had smoked meat sandwiches. I finally saw Habitat 67. I had a cheese fondue for lunch.

In April:

I realized I'd been off and on sick since New Year's eve. My uncle Ken came to town. I had my 1st public exhibit of my photos. They were up for a month. It was exciting. The tulips came up in Skagit County and I went to go see them. I discovered a better toothbrush.

In May:

I went to Scottsdale.  The cherry blossoms were out and I finally went to Vancouver's 9 o'clock gun. Then planned a trip.

In June:

Off to Mordon, Manitoba to see an old friend and go to a music festival. Then to Toronto,  where I saw a baby falcon be rescued, saw a friend of mine, and rode the streetcars. My sister came to visit for the weekend and we got caught in the rain. Then I went to Alberta for a family reunion and finally I was headed to New Orleans. There was a oil spill happening in the gulf of Mexico. It was also my mother's birthday. June was a great month.

In July:

I bought a Vespa. I was too busy riding it to say anything else.

In August:

Michael and I drove south..we end up in Olympia and went around the Washington peninsula. I said 'hey.. take this turn off' and we went across the Tacoma Narrows bridge, otherwise known as the Galloping Gurtie.

In Sept:
I cam back from an excellent Alberta rode trip with my mother. I tandem skydived out of a plane and went to a psychic who told me to write a book.

In Oct:

I bought 75 tiny birds I found in a small town on the Alberta road trip path. I ordered 2 dresses from China, and began to try and write again. I realized that I'd stopped doing alot of things and started to take a class here and there. I took a pajama making class and learned to knit again.

In November:

I started knitting. I had retail therapy and I cut ties and learned lessons. I bought a cat.

In Dec:

An old friend died. I learned another lesson. I made all my Christmas gifts (mostly) and I went to the UK with my boyfriend. I got sick.

in 2010:

I travelled. I visited friends and family. I went to old places I'd been before and new places I'd never been. I learned some lessons, lost some weight, gained it back. Spent money. Stopped writing, started knitting and took a bunch of photos.

the present that went to famous places..

This is me and my fella. He's holding my mother's Christmas present that didn't get mailed on time. Instead, it took an unexpected journey to the UK where it was documented as we visited various places.. Stay tuned for "Where did the present go" updates.

Here we are at the unexplained, much celebrated Neolithic stone circle known famously as Stonehenge. By far, one of the most amazing things I have ever been in the presence of. (Graffiti from 92AD in Pompeii is up there).

resolves

Healthy
1. eat more fruits and vegetables
2. spend a month without eating out
3. ride my bike more
4. fit into last year's jeans
5. drink more water everyday
6. Bikram's Yoga

Crafty
1. make my valentines
2. knit instead of pull
3. knit everyday
4. embroider pillow case and a matching duvet
5. sew a dress
6. learn to knit socks

Mindful
1. identify my skills
2. night classes
3. do my taxes
4. trip to..
5. volunteer

towels for tea

I've decided I like tea towels. I think it started at the Red Deer Farmer's Market when I bought a gorgeous hand woven linen one that has just gotten better and better each time I washed it. Pretty towels for the kitchen. I don't know why but I have taken to them and more so with the "souvenier" aspect of tea towels.

Have oyu ever noticed that? No matter what- the gift shop has a commemorative tea towel. Most likely.

So.. I was in this shop in Brighton and saw these really lovely towels and because we had 2 instances where Michael had shouted.. "Look! There's a fox" I bought this one. Isn't it lovely?

I bought the 2 Lady's in the Tea Cup and the Birdsongs as well for choices for Michael's sister Trish (she nabbed the Tea Cup but traded for a Cupcake towel she had).

Here's the company who makes them, ironically Lush Designs.

journey's end

A long 9 hr flight into daylight and I'm home and completely sacked. The worst thing in the world is to arrive at an airport and to have no one to meet you. There should be a service where friendly strangers greet you with flowers, carry your bags, and get you safely into a cab with a cup of tea.

Wouldn't that be lovely?

So.. a quick recap..

We arrived in Heathrow and took a buzz around London in our rental car.. off to Hamstead to get a tea and make a call.

We headed for Bristol and I tried to stay awake but fell asleep in the car.. Michael almost did too so he rolled down all the windows so it was brutally cold and woke me up.

We stopped off at "the services" which is like a highway turnoff/ rest stop/ food/ gas place all rolled into one. We bought hot chocky and weird disposable scrubby toothbrush thingies from the bathroom vending machines (not the hot chocky mind you).

We rolled into Bristol and Michael tried to back up the one way hill to his sister's house not realizing the steep hill was covered in ice. He got out to look at the situation and the emergency brake wasn't one and we started to slide towards a parked car as he started to step out of the car with me yelling. Parked at a dangerous angle, Michael went to announce our arrival and situation. I found a shovel in a yard and the road side "grit" barrel and started shovelling sand on the road behind and in front of the tires. All worked out in the end with nary a dent.

We stayed with Michael's sister Victoria, Martin her husband and 2 kids: Katherine 7 and Beatrice, 3.

Bristol highlights
Vic and the kids..
SS Great Britain
Clifton Suspension Bridge
Bacon Sarnies on the docks with brown sauce
Ciders with Hannah and her sister Biddy at the Tobacco Factory.

From Bristol we headed to London and stopped at Stonehenge.. that's in another post.. it was super and I was so happy to see it. I would have also liked to see the Marc Bolan (of T Rex) tree shine but we didn't get there.

In London, we stayed with Michael's nephew Robert and girlfriend Zamira in north London. I got sick. Really sick with the flu but managed to get on with things albeit a bit achy, sniffy and sore.

Highlights of London

Seeing the places Michael grew up
The old pubs
Hampstead High Street
Harrods
Fortnum & Mason
Abbey Road
driving around, taking the tube, getting on a double decker
Oxford St, Islington, Camden, Kentish Town, Kensington
The V&A
The British Museum
The Tower of London
Walking near the London Eye- no we didn't go on it
The houses of parliament
London Cemetery and the graves of Karl Marx and Malcom McLaren
Cheese shops
missed bits: old friends Heidi and Esther

After London, we went to Forest Row- a lovely hamlet on ley lines to stay with Michael's other sister Trish and her husband Peter. Best bits were:

Walking on the nearby paths and visiting the farm with the giant pigs and cattle
Their cosy cottage and Kitsy the black cat
The great meals they cooked, comfortable beds and English countryside

We went to nearby Lewes and the on to Brighton and saw the Royal Pavilion and took Trish's daughter Lucy out for dinner.

We went back the next day and I finally met Michael's mother who made sure to tell me that when she dies, I should go to Vienna and see the opera.. which was odd.. She was very sweet though. We ate at Infinity Foods and I bought a tea towel of English Foxes and explored the Lanes.

And now it's 2:40 in the morning in the UK.. although it's 6:38 in Vancouver. I should eat and go to bed. x

A new year

I've been in London with my fella, Michael. We went up to Bristol to visit his sister and her little kids, Beatrice and Katherine. Little B was sickly and unsurprisingly, now so am I. By the time we got to Stonehenge, I had a sore throat. So, if jet lag wasn't nipping on my heels, the flu was.

Michael and I spent 2 days manoevoring the scourge of humanity on the London streets. How many people are I this city anyway? To go 5 blocks is a mighty effort of sensory overload, never mind 5 tube stops. In those 2 days, we drove or walked over London.

Harrods, Fortnum & Mason, and Liberty and on the days after Boxing Day! Oxford st, Regent's street, Soho, The Britsih museum, the London Eye, Tower of London, Hampstead, Carnaby, Portobello, Bond St, the V&A museum and Kensington. Did I mention I have the flu??? God.

We drove down to Michael's other sister in Forest Row and by the time we had a lovely beef curry...I was happy to take the invitation to lay down for a nap at 3. I didn't wake up until 9 the next day and then we were back to heathrow to drop off the car.

I still hope to see some friends that live here. It's been an avoided mission due to a foul mood, sicky cough and so worn out i have nary a thread of conversation in me.. It 3:30 in the morning and just now am i feeling a bit of talk in my head.

Sigh.. Onwards.. And in search of a fishtail parka...

The day trip

Once...I was in the town of Bath, UK. I happened to trip on some cobblestones and hurt my knee hard enough to not be able to carry my backpack for about 5 days. I looked at the sign on the front hostel desk that read "trips to Stonehenge, $15 return" daily and for some reason never went. I don't remember why not. It's not like I had something better to do. I always regretted it.

Well..I was able to rectify that one regret...And went to Stonehenge today.(right..uploading with iPad is a bit finicky.. Will sort sizes later..)

Merry Christmas!!

 

Thanks Santa for the Ipad. It's loaded with games, news sites, knitting apps, music, a movie and the new Keith Richard's new book. It'll come in handy for the long flight to London today. 

We're off to visit the fella's family in England..we have a car! Oh.. this will be fun!! The year that ends in adventure starts the next one off right. 

xxoo

flooding in the emerald city

I decided to Pike Market it up for Christmas prezzies.. so I rented a car on Friday night with the intention of driving down to Seattle super early Saturday morning. It didn't go exactly to plan when I slept in until 10 am. But I figured the weekend rental car deserved a journey and I took off for the border and sights south. There's no journey into Washington that could be complete without the obligatory stop in Bow-Edison.

This time I drove past a farm with a wee house front and was selling cheese made on the spot.. Samish Bay Cheese. Amazing! Bought a chipotle Gouda and a herb version and had an amazing chat with the owner Suzanne about how we stay linked to physical locations and how special the Skagit Valley is. As usual, my visit in Edison was lovely and magical. I have made friends with David, the owner of the Apothecary and always stop into Tweets, the cafe that has the very best breakfast I have ever had.

Onwards to Seattle.. which put me in town at 4pm! Um.. I beginning to wonder if I'm going to drive back the same day. But figured I'd Pike Market it up with my 1/2 loading zone only parking spot and fast! I picked up a few of my favorite things to give as gifts and ran for The Crumpet Shop (another spot that never goes unvisited) and found it closed! Not a good thing.. and not looking good for leaving Seattle.

Later in my search for Abita Beer, (that you can't get in Canada- but I really enjoy) that went unfound and I was driving around and saw a neon Abita sign.. it was literally a sign as there was also a free parking spot. It tuned out to be a New Orleans themed restaurant, Marcela's. I don't think Chicken Cordon Bleu is native to New Orleans or creole- but it was delicious. What the hell are Potato Ya- Ya's? I treated myself to bread pudding with whiskey sauce dessert and the drive home was getting farther and farther unlikely.

So, I phoned the only other number I brought with me.. A B&B I stayed in with my mom & sister- Seattle Hill House and the owner graciously agreed to match the cost of a likely less comfortable hotel that would mean I would have to pay for overnight parking in downtown Seattle. Full on chicken, beer and bread pudding I checked into my queen size bed with 4 large feather pillows and private bath. Tucked in with the latest Rolling Stone article on a unpublished John Lennon interview done days before he was killed and listened to the rain hitting the windows. This morning I met a couple from Florida who work for the Home Shopping Network, a couple from Olympia, a woman from Denmark and another from Paris. A B&B trumps a hotel any day.

The rain.. did I mention the torrential rains? It's not alot of fun to carry around you camera in. It makes everything slippery and hard to drive in. I drove though a small shallow lake already. News reports that some road are out due to water coverage. I think it's all south though.I'll make due. I brought my rain coat. I have a few more stops to make..

Watson Kennedy is by far my favorite Seattle shop. I found free parking right across the street. The car will stay there and I'll walk up to Pike, the crumpet shop and the local Lush. I'll bring all my packages back and head north.. back to feuding kitties, knitting projects, familiar blankets and my fella. But not before I visit Fancy, Shmancy and Nancy.. 3 shops doors down from one another and another favorite Seattle thing.

.

life at 17

2008-04-24-0838-05_edited, originally uploaded by jilly71.

Ii was (and still am) crazy about Janis Joplin and had hung all the album covers on my wall.

I was fascinated with the 60's and hippies and had tie died my pants, indian bed spread, peacock feathers, bean bag chair and beads.

That's Raven, my 1st cat and the apartment I had off of high school property.. because I lived by myself.

I also smoked.

imagine

imagine, originally uploaded by jilly71.

the most exotic carry bag evah

I feel like I need to plan sleep overs. I need to go somewhere with a change of clothes in a bag or something. My latest impulse purchase arrived and it's a mighty mighty bag. Big enough for a lap top, multiple yarn projects, you name it.. it's much bigger and more beautiful than I thought. I love it though. Better get my bohemian rhapsody on for the spring. x

a few of my favorite things...

Every time I see this artist at a Craft Fair, I covet/ admire her porcelain pickling jars. Something about a $40 jar seems to be breach of my Scottish frugality though. But as mentioned to the artist today, she has taken something very basic and a bit thrift store and made it exquisite, beautiful and delicate. I gave have one to my sister last year fro Christmas because it's true Canadiana and i knew she would love it. Today I bought one for myself.

She mentioned to me that she's received a large order from a restaurant to have her Beaver jars as lamps. I told her she should look into trademarking her porcelain jars. 

Very happy to have one now of my own and $40 be damned. 

I'm enjoying knitting now that I took a cool class from Three Bags Full. They sell this beautiful yarn.. Malabrigo Merino wool. I made a yummy scarf in Frank Ochre and bought the Bobby Blue and Forest Green for 2 projects because it's so soft and cozy. It's like cashmere.

I took a sewing class and made these super comfy draw string pajama pants. I came home and found this crazy vintage soft cotton in a floral pattern I picked up at a garage sale and figured I had enough for the pants so I made them again. I can whip these off in 2- 3 hrs. Who wants a pair for Christmas? Just kidding.. I have NO TIME.

There's this great store in Gastown called Old Faithful. They sell these sweet little linen bags which also afront and offend my fugal nature. Unlines and made of linen, they are ridiculous at $25 each. I suppose they have to come all the way from Fog Linen in Toyko, but still. I bought one though, just so I could snip throught the serged seam and unstitch it to cut a pattern and make LOADS of them. Crafty huh. I just have to stitch the original back together again. Oof.

handmade Christmas

Last year I "made" my gifts which meant I framed my photos. This year, my newly refreshed craft skills will be employed. Which means I better get cracking!!!

Liberty in London

IMGP1774.JPG, originally uploaded by jilly71.

Liberty in London have the BEST mannequins. I'll have a few more of these shots, I hope.. Don't suppose I've mentioned.. I'm going to London for Christmas. I'm going with my fabulous British boyfriend who can drive on the other side of the road and knows all the cool spots.

social commentary

Yesterday an old friend of mine died and I found out because it was his Facebook status. I struggle to comprehend that a trivial and meaningless thing as Facebook now involves life changing status updates. I wonder how I would have known otherwise if I didn't have the Internet but then I wouldn't have been back in touch with Chris at all if it wasn't for the great connector- Facebook. I knew Chris really, about 15 years ago. The years between then and now also mean that I'm no longer in contact with any friends we had in common. But.. the Internet-it connected us again, allowed me to send a message to him, put me in contact in other friends and put us back in contact.

And so.. Chris died, but not so unexpectedly. Before he passed away, he was infrequently updating his Facebook status on his deteriorating health from throat cancer. He had courageously posted pictures of the gaping hole in his neck from the throat tumors clawing their way to the surface. He shared the terrible details of surgery to save his carotid artery and he reminded people to have a wake. Incredibly, in it all he kept his sense of humor like this: update from Nov 19: "the fact that 3 people have died in this 4 bed room in the last 48 hrs and I'm still here".


As the weeks went on, the tributes and memories poured in from his friends. Many of them people I knew or "knew of". I read each one, little pictures colored in with words. Snapshots to scenes I wasn't in, parties I didn't go to, gig's I was too young to attend. Some posted photographs and I remembered how I used to know him.

I was in Toronto in July and happened to see him on the street as I drove by- amazing in a city the size of Toronto. I saw how badly he looked. He was in ill health then. He looked like death then. I got in contact and was able to see him and experience both the spirit of Chris as I remembered him and the sense he would be leaving. We walked down Bloor talking of the past, the mundane, the future.  I was grateful to see Chris again and in so many ways, he hadn't changed. He always had enthusiasm and excitement for things he thought were cool. He always seemed to walk quickly, slightly forward as thought he couldn't get to where he was going quick enough.

We walked past a church I had passed on the way to find his apartment. My senses alert and tingled the same way I have always been when aware of making memory yet I had ignored the church. Chris excitedly pointed out the beautiful stained glass windows of what was now an apartment building. "Isn't that cool?" he asked me. We walked near Dovercourt Ave where he was staying and he got excited about a book in a window and we went in an looked at it, he quickly engaged the shop keeper on the attributes of a certain cartoon style that segued into  something political- my mind was elsewhere.. but it was the spirit of Chris- intelligent, always engaging, insightful and talkative that I knew so many years ago.

He bummed some money off me for cigarettes, the irony, and scurried to the phine booth to make a call and probably buy drugs. He'd been an addict for as long as I've known him but I gave him the money. We stood on the corner of Bloor and Dufferin, in the sun as the people streamed past and I knew it was likely I would never see him again and I hugged his tall and always lanky but now bone thin frame for a long time and I started to cry. I told him all the things I thought he would want to hear and things I knew I would regret if I didn't say. "I think you're beautiful and I love you. Your life has already been perfect and thank you for being in mine so long ago." And I said, you're lucky. You're lucky if you get to go. Life is hard and brutal. I wanted him to know it was OK to put down all the pain and I hoped it would mean he could let his heart lift from the weight of his existence and heal.

 I updated my Facebook that it was great to see him sometime later that day. Social commentary. I saw you.. I took some photos..other people see this..you'll see this..Why does anybody put anything on Facebook? To share and connect and keep a tether thread to the lives of others no matter how tenuous. In the last weeks, the updates started to come from his sister and others who watched over him... in the hospital. And thanks to Facebook, old friend, past friends-  people made peace with Chris, expressed their gratitude, love and support and all these messages were read to him one by one as he lay in palliative care. That's a beautiful thing. 

Finally yesterday,  his status was updated by his sister:

Chris Bates Died today, Wednesday, December 1, 2010 - 44 years old

It was as my response said: worst.status.update.ever (and I'll fucking miss you.)

I feel bewildered that I watched his life wind down on Facebook. I saw weekly updates to the situation unfolding with each new refreshed day. We weren't close. I'm not an ex- girlfriend or a family friend. We went to the same gigs, hung around in the same bar and eneded up at the same parties. He wore a red beret and a quick wit, always on the go. He found out where I lived and came around or I invited him to dinner. We hung out a few times and I was about 22. Once, smoking hash and cigarettes, we burnt a hole in my favorite bedspread and messed around. He was probably a drug addict back then and I kind of pushed him away. He came to my door and announced he felt ostracized and I had to look up the word. Last time I saw Chris back then, was at a poetry reading; he spent a lot of time in the bathroom and looking sleepy. I didn't know what heroin was like back then and he left town. 

I never saw or talked to him again for probably 15 years but I watched and participated in the most personal and private event of his life because it was on the Internet, on Facebook. In some ways I'm grateful and in others- I feel the white bright numbness of the burst of hot firecracker fast and brilliant, stunning from a distance. Poetic. Like an over exposed photograph you hold at a distance. I still have that bedspread and that memory of that hot hash burn was as brief moment with someone who also burned hot and fast through his 44 years.  

RIP old friend. x 

storm clouds and easy streets

 I wrote this long winded piece about past boyfriends and what I'd like to affectionately call "the asshole" but really I was channelling my inner asshole and as I discovered recently, there's no point so I've reduced it like a fine balsamic vinegar reduction and summed it up a a few morals of the story..

• You can't stand on the shoulders of other to feel tall
• Know when you're being treated badly and when you're doing the treating badly- stop both.
• If you recognize someone is in pain, don't add to it.
• You'll recognize the friends at the end by the one's that helped you along, not the ones that tried to pull you down as they climbed up.
• Love between 2 people is like a river- you're both the water making the effort to get around each rough spot- it's gonna be fun when you get going. If one of you is in a puddle splashing alone- it's just a mess and you'll go home wet and alone.
• Stop trying to swim upstream- that's just for dead salmon.

"Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind." ~ Henri Frederic Amiel

urban wasp, New Orleans

I snapped this on some street in New Orleans. I was intrigued by the locals- people who call that strange city home. Did they come there before or after Katrina. Did they loose everything. Was she a local, a vistitor, or a passing through on my way to the fair kind of girl. I never asked. I just watched her for a few minutes from across the street. I liked her look.


In case you're wondering, it's a bag of HK Anderson braided twists in Honey Wheat flavor sticking out of her bag. Interestingly, a search for where you can buy them in New Orleans brought up only 3 Walmarts. For shame on cute girl shopping in Walmart!

next up.. sweaters

I learned to knit again after a 30 year hiatus. I have knit 2 hats and a scarf so far.

I figured if I can master knit and purl, I can master this..wish me luck.

twhoot twhoo

tea & comfort

Grabbed from here full on..it looked WAY too yummy to not repost. Copy, paste and serve with tea.

Cranberry Citrus Walnut Bread
(adapted from Amy Palanjian's family recipe at ReadyMade)

2 limes, zested & juiced
1/2 grapefruit, juiced
Boiling water
2 tablespoons melted butter
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg, beaten
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup chopped fresh cranberries
1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Preheat oven to 325 F.

Add the lime zest, lime juice, grapefruit juice and enough boiling water to make enough for 3/4 cupful (for me this was just shy of 1/2 cup of fruit juice + the boiling water). Pour into a large bowl. Stir in the sugar and whisk until cool. Add in the egg and give everything a good stir.

Dump in the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt and lightly mix until just incorporated. Stir in the chopped cranberries and walnuts and stir until evenly combined.

Oil up a loaf tin and spoon in the batter. Bake for 55-60 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean. Remove from oven and let sit for 15 minutes. Remove the loaf from the pan and let cool on a wire rack.

it's not cold, that's my attitude

Ohh.. its' so cold.. 

Burrrr..I can't believe how cold it is..

It snowed?.. in Vancouver? OMG 

Ok.. yes it snowed. Yes, there is ice on my scooter. Yes, it won't start. Yes, the temperature dropped to -5 but honestly.. I have to bite my tongue when people in Vancouver complain about the cold. The grass is green under that snow and the roses are blooming up the road. People still sit on heated patios.

I remember when I was growing up in Alberta..losing my house key and being some unfortunate teenager who dressed inappropriately because it was nerdy to have a parka and mitts and snow boots. So, I suffered in Converse Sneakers and no gloves in the garage praying to God to let me live another day so I could learn my science lesson about wind chill without loosing my toes.

I remember snowstorms that shut down the city. Snow drifts so high that my apartment door had to be pushed on before it would open. You didn't dream leave the house without some serious skin coverage, even if I was going to walk the 5 blocks to the local whatever to relieve the boredom. The nose piercing I had back then would freeze in 20 seconds. The tip of my nose a few seconds after that.

I've waited fruitlessly for buses in blizzards, walked in -30 with a windchill of -400, endured having clothing seasons of special protective clothing and huddled in corners smoking with my fingers going numb. (I don't smoke anymore and one of those pitiful scenes of Edmontonians huddled around a ashtray in the arctic winds was a motivating factor of why to quit).

Thus, when you live in Vancouver and it snows for all of 3 weeks and a cold snap hovers around -5.. I have 4 words to complaints about the cold..

We've got it good. (..well my first 4 words were a little bit more colorful than that).

PS. Alberta was the 2nd coldest place on the planet last Tuesday. Stay warm family.
 

"It's like a witch in a white kitten suit."

We're thinking of changing it's name from Plum to Pesto.

new kitten..Plum

siblings

I've always found multiple cats endearing. Silently envied the 'crazy cat lady' who lives with 9 cats. Been enamored by the bundles of kittens curled up together. Have always wanted to have more than 1 cat. So, on a chance stop by the SPCA, deja vu was in the air when a 5month old kitten was available for adoption and looks suspiciously like the cat I already have.

Yes, she's all white, has pink ears, never makes a sound and has big yellow eyes. Yes she's now mine and no, they're not quite friends.. yet.

baby your things

I stumbled upon a pretty Etsy site- someone recycling vintage tribal fabric like Hmong Baby Carriers and reworking them into the loveliest of bags..aren't they amazing?

Oh yeah.. the 1st one? It's mine..!

past posts

I wrote this on 26 April 2007..

The muffled sound of music can be heard. Just audible, drum beats and bass clap their hands in the invisible air. The tiny white ear buds are instantly recognized. A member of the Ipod army. She sits down next to me on the bus. Grey pant suit noticed as I glanced quickly at the filled space next to me. The bus is sweaty with condensation from the breath of so many riders and the rain falling outside. Umbrellas dripping moisture onto paper shopping bags. Manicured nails clutch the tan leather handbag that almost passed as quality, but there's something secretly cheap about mass manufactured goods to appeal to the gleam of high fashion magazine ad admirers. She wears a fitted grey wool coat, blond hair hitting it softly at the shoulders. I glance at her face. Her make up is neither subtle or heavy but almost seems like a toned down version of a garish night out. She looks like a legal assistant with a dark secret. The aroma of music wafts between us and I ponder if she listens to anything else other than heavy metal.

craft 2

Maybe 5 hrs of knit2, purl 2..x 10 then knit 2 purl 1 and repeat.

 Malabrigo worsted pure merino wool in kettle dyed Frank Ochre.

Here's the pattern I'm following..

Easy Hand Knit Scarf

a kind tale..

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.

Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it. In his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.  She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. 

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.  The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. 

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.  She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you." 

Epilogue: There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.

 If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy. 

"Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."

The origin of this letter is unknown.   

craft

Back when life was simple, I used to spend school breaks on my grandparent's farm. My grandmother would keep me and my sister busy by enrolling us in knitting projects. She worked in the local college and I have memories of sitting in the lobby knitting and purling my way to a pair of slippers. Evenings would be spent under Scottish wool blankets watching TV with my grandmother's clickity clacket knitting ticking off the stitches hummed in the background.

I don't know why I dropped it all these years later. I wish I hadn't though. I could have used something to do with my "devil makes work for idle" hands. I think it was a lack of really cool yarn shops and the non development of bamboo needles. But knitting and crafting has had a resurgence. Knit groups are popping up. Shops with great names like

Purl- NYC
The Knit Cafe- Toronto
Three Bags Full- Vancouver
Lettuce Knit- Toronto

Ewe get the picture... Knitting is cool again and Alpaca is the new wool. What's behind it? I don't know. I desire to get a few steps back from the complexities of 21st century life? I think so maybe. Most of life is quite immediate. Cell phone, emails, texts, the Internet- it all keeps us plugged in to info and ideas in an immediate time frame. Knitting is like meditation with motion and in the end you get a pair of mittens.

And so, I signed up for a class and the next ting I know- 3 weeks later, I've mastered the cast on, cast off, knit, purl, stocking stitch, seed stick, ribbed stitch, basket weave and now circular knitting. I have 3 new pairs of knitting needles and $100 in yarn and now all I want for Christmas is socks.. lessons that is. It was the best thing I've done and I'm enjoying it and every now and then I can transport myself to the living room on the farm and that special air and quiet except for my grandmother's clickity clackets.

congregation

congregation, originally uploaded by jilly71.

I'm very excited to be planning my next photo show at the neighborhood hang out..  Pane Vero Cafe on Commercial Drive. The plan is January. All my lovely prairie photos and maybe an art installation.

just hit the puck in the net

 I'd busted my ass over something. I think I remember it vaguely.. I was about 10. We'd been instructed in school to decorate a shoebox for a picnic. The idea was to pack a lunch in your decorated shoe box and some lucky fella would pick your shoe box and the sun would shine through the clouds on a biblical day while you ate your lunch on the grass while blue birds chirped in your ears.

My grandiose plans didn't come to fruition and I was let down and disappointed. I think it set an early tone for the concept of goals. What was the point of setting them if for all your hopes and dreams and skills they didn't come true? An early experience coupled with the instinctive reaction of "what's the point" set deep into a brain chasm.. "well.. that was pointless". 

Sounds dreadful and dire doesn't it. I suppose I was a rather dreadful and dour child as well. But it set a tone for the concept of goals.. "Don't you have goals Jill?". I'm not kidding- I would feel perplexed by the MEANING of the word 'goal'. Like it was a touchdown. A goal? A score? 1 point for me, 0 for ....I remember being asked.. "where would you like to be in 5 years or 10 years" and I literally thought at a young age.. how can you even decide that.. what's the point when a car could speed around a corner and schmuck you.

I'm afraid since some pivotal moment of early failure.. I've put off the concept of "goals". I have to restructure it in my head as a "I'll try this out for a while" concept. As thought, if I put a period to the sentence, I'll erase the paragraph.

Nonetheless- I understand the concept of working towards something, albeit vaguely and I give it a go now and then.

Today is Nov 1. I'm trying out a few things. I'll tell you about them later. For now.. Idea #1- is to participate in National Blog Posting Month.

time capsule

It was 1940 and the German's were marching toward Paris and the war was coming. She was the granddaughter of a courted actress and apparently kept herself by a wealthy older suitor.

She lived in her grandmother's, Marthe de Florian, apartment and kept it in the same style as her grandmother had lived in it in 1890. She locked the door to the apartment, located near Pigale and fled to the south of France where she remained, and never having returned to Paris. Why did she never go back? Who paid the bills? Who were her neighbours, never wondering what lay beyond the door that was never opened.

The woman died recently, at the age of 91. Her apartment details found amongst her estate. When the door was finally opened, for the first time 71 years later, they remarked it was like stumbling into Sleeping Beauty's home.

70 years of dust covered the exquisite furniture and belongings, all now antiques. Found amongst the belongings, was a painting of her grandmother, which happened to be by 19th century Italian artist Giovanni Boldini- which happened to fetch €2.1 million at auction.

 Isn't that incredible?

I guess the mystery will unfold..


Here's the story..

Raise your arms for victory.. drink to love, drink to me.

The Black Harbor present: DM Stith "Thanksgiving Moon" from ISHOTHIM on Vimeo.

So, quite lovely. Don't you agree?

still a favorite photo

Dirt River, originally uploaded by jilly71.

apronstrings

Zom G. has left a new comment on your post "the convenience of adult life has spoiled me":

"This is such a lovely blog and I am excited to see where your new direction takes you. I was looking for hints and tips to drafting a floor-length apron pattern, but am quite happy to have found the story of your mythical dress instead. Will google-wonders never cease?"

Thanks for the lovely comment. Come back often.. The magic of the mythical apron dress continues.. 
Jillx

thinking ahead for spring

Mourning the loss of the mythical apron dress..I've been looking at linen dresses on Etsy. I don't usually go in for muying clothes off the internet because you can't really tell if they'll suit you or fit you but I'm chancing my luck on 2 relatively inexpensive and gorgeous linen pieces to mend my apron dress broken heart.

Dress 1 is called Cheste Pleated and has 2 side pockets and a funky hemline. 1 size fits all- sounds good. It's clever and pretty and color choices of apricot, purple, silver or grass (pictured). I opted for silver because grey is my favorite color. I figure it'll be good if I go back to Cuba.

Dress #2 is a long shirt dress with shoulder pleats. I'm not crazy about the pale blue color so I figure it's light enough to dye a darker shade if I want to.

Both are organic linen, handmade, from this seller..NewExtrave. The total for the 2 + shipping was less than $150. I figure I'd get as much use as the long lost apron dress.. at least. I'm sure they'll fit.

that's a lotta tea

I like something that I would vaguely described as Canadiana. Some sort of farm kitchz vibe that I surround my self with. Now don't get me wrong, I don't like to surround my self with everything I see.. I'm pretty choosy. Has to kind of be the thing I might never see again and somehow reminds me of Rural Canada. In the last few years, chickadees and tiny birds are a fondness

Not so long ago, I took a trip with my mom to one of my favorite small towns- Nanton, Alberta- south of Calgary by an hour or so and full of antique shops. I can scour them for hours. Just as we were leaving we saw one last one.. Lope. I spotted this one little porcelain bird figurine. It tuned out the women had a ice cream bucket of them.

Like Tetley Tea figurines, the little birds came from a tea box- Tender Leaf Teas from the 1960's. Buy a box of tea and get a free tea bird. Fantastic idea. There were 30 of them in total. But this women at Lope stood them all up and I pondered my choices.. at $8 each, I had to be choosy. I picked my favorite 7 and bartered her down to $35.

Well, I couldn't get the little birds out of my head.. so I called the store, and a few emails later..  now I have 26 little bird figurines..

did you shave your beard?

You seem different somehow.. or is it just me? Do you like the changes?

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel..

I found this tonight while going through old folders.. It was the best $639.66 US I ever spent.

Granville Island buskers

in a pickle, originally uploaded by jilly71.

the convenience of adult life has spoiled me

A long time ago.. I could do a bunch of things I don't really know how to do now.. I could knit a pair of slippers (with the watchful eye of the best grandmother anyone could ever have). I had successful runs at cinnamon buns and fresh brown baked bread but had the assistance of said grandmother. (But she had a  magical kitchen with prairie sun and farm washed tea towels that did something special to yeast, sugar, milk eggs and flour.)

I could follow a sewing pattern thanks to the best mom one could ever have who taught me how to thread a sewing machine and I remember distinctly her patience with a apron pattern cut from brown paper brought home from Girl Guides. Learning to crotchet, darn, and embroider comes naturally when you come from a family with nimble fingers. Having constant access to knitting needles, yarn, sewing machines, needles, pots and pans and support was idyllic when you think of teenagers today.What happened to my skills?

Somewhere along the lines.. I realized I couldn't knit a pair of mittens if I wanted to. I tried to crotchet socks.. they lay unfinished in the back of a craft cupboard with way too many balls of yarn (I decided once I would make an afghan.) I could also buy 4 yards of fabric and a pattern but would then loose patience with the confusion of what exactly a salvage is. If I had to make bread from scratch on a dare it would end up like paper mache and if someone asked me to make jam, I'd probably freeze and stare wide eyed into the horizon and pretend I didn't hear you.

So, I've decided to take matters into my own hands, so to speak.

This weekend, I'll be taking a one day course in sewing. The project is a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms. I bought a perfect green, red, blue, and yellow striped cotton (no- it'll look festive on dark rainy mornings) and enrolled myself at Vancouver's latest "sewing lab"- Spool of Thread.I figured 2 legs, a crotch seam and some hems and I'd be back in action.

Later, every Thursday night for 4 weeks, I'll be at Three Bags Full every Thursday learning how to cast on, knit, purl and will walk away with a hat or a scarf. I choose red yarn and wooden knitting needled. It will go well with the jaunty striped pajama pants.

Beyond that, I'll go back to the one other thing I learned on the farm..I'll learn how to drive, just not a car. But someone stop me if I go riding in my new "outfit".

The story of the Linen Apron Dress

Once a long while ago before I had a savings account that had more than 1 month's rent, I still used to be able to tie two pennies together and spin myself a nifty living. I worked in a laundry factory as a mender sewing holes and patches and buttons all day long. I clocked in at 7:29 and clocked out at 3:31. I had a neat apartment with a fireplace, hardwood floors, a cat, a bike and bus pass. I was marginally happy, I suppose, being a factory girl when other people my age were going to university and thinking about "the future".

Me and my 2 pennies kept each other company and every now and then we'd have a little fun. One day I saw this dress. This amazing dress. It was about $100 which was alot of pennies to me at the time. But it was so special. It was blue linen and floor length, but it wrapped around at the waist with a bib apron and a bare back, with cross the back straps and a long wrap tie. I was rib cage thin back then. I loved that dress. I tried it on and I couldn't bear the thought of leaving the store without it. My 2 pennies and that dress had a chat in the change room and we all decided we were going to be friends.

I wore that dress with a secret glamor, like I had Cinderella's ID in my pocket. I put that dress on with a white tshirt and sneakers and a rainbow was my sidewalk- you get the point. That dress was powerful. Years later I carefully rolled it and packed it in my 3rd hand backpack to Europe when I thought I should only take things I wouldn't mind loosing because they would get stolen in the sketchy hostels I was headed to.  I took a chance with that dress, I'll tell you. I guarded my back pack with my life and that dress doubled as a pillow on many occasions.

I remember one day in Paris after many days of a scruffy wayward traveller look, I wore it and went exploring. I'd tied the waist straps criss-cross up my waist like a corset and put on a beret. I was walking up some steps at the Louvre and feeling like a fashion model that hadn't been discovered when the wind caught the wrap around panel and I walked long giraffe strides across the plaza. Further enhancing the spectacle, there were 2 guys walking directly behind me and and I was so aware of how fabulous I must have looked! While I never turned to look at them- I could overhear them speaking delicious warm croissant French words. I've always lingered on that memory believing they were talking about my fabulous dress. They were you know. Anybody who saw that dress would have talked about it in whispers woven with gold.

One day, after enjoying the dress for many years, I decided I was clever enough to have 2. In a disastrous turn of events, the awesomeness of those stitches evaporated. Before I could stop myself,  I snipped the seams until each panel and piece was separate from the other. The crime scene on my bedroom floor, you can sense I'm sure. Like an explosion in slow motion. The bib of the dress decapitated from the apron, the hems spilt open and frayed. It was a fool thing to do  and I new I would never make a copy of the original.

I was dismayed, devastated and discouraged. I carefully folded up the parts and wrapped them up. I promised myself I would put the arms and legs back on the doll one day and she would come back to life. In grief- I kept myself busy doing other things, never fully admitting I had not the skills to accomplish the task. One day I came upon those pieces of navy blue linen with frayed ends and mismatched pieces that I couldn't quite figure out what I had done or how to fix it and figured.. you know "It's time to move on." and "You can't keep hanging onto these scraps." It was a bad time of purge and I threw them away.

That was 13 years ago and I still lament the loss of dress. I frequently search- often late at night- through Google- for  some variation of "linen apron dress" in hopes of finding it again. I should maybe add the word "mythical". Not one picture of me exists in the dress and I've never seen it again. I still mourn for the $100 Linen Apron Dress to where I'm thinking me and a few of my penny friends might visit a professional dress maker/ crime scene sketch artist and send out a search party for my long lost comrade.

Here's a picture that looks not really like the the dress but a clue to it's one day recovery. (Or the day I dress up like a wash maiden from the 20's- which I suppose it what I looked like that day in Paris..)

new things to look at

I've updated my sidebar links.. look left.. to have a lot of the websites that I linger around trying to stir up the inspirtation ot open the craft cupboard. I hope you like them.

feeling a bit neglected

I'm sorry about that. It's shameful how time has passed while I mulled over an update and then said.. oh tomorrow. Suddenly tomorrow was a long time ago. Which is kind of been my feeling lately. I'm plagued by thoughts that I'm not having as much fun.. I'm not enjoying myself as much as I should be.

Just the other day I was testing gravity and my clumsy factor by jumping between garages behind my parent's house. Talking about the Cult and having water fights with friends.

Friends- I was throwing parties in my parent's basement and hiding the booze and waving the pot smoke away. I was throwing parties. I think the last time I did that was in junior high or early high school.

I think about my childhood alot lately and how far away it was and how I used to think.. one day I'll be all grown up and I don't know.. something *magical* would have happened. Something would have fallen into place and the phase I was "going through" would be over. You know and life would look like it did on TV. I'd be an adult and it would all make sense.That doesn't really happen. I think we just forget what we thought was so confusing.

So.. yeah time is slipping away every day. I'll try and start documenting it again.

I've missed you too.








 

Dorothy, Alberta

prairie landscape, originally uploaded by jilly71.

She said.."he whispers to you in your dreams." I suspect that's why I like to go to sleep.

July 8 1965, originally uploaded by jilly71.

i took this photo from a parachute.. wha? TOTALLY AMAZING

DSC00400, originally uploaded by jilly71.

bird's view

I jumped tandem out of a plane today. We went through a cloud and then I saw the ground 10000 feet away. It was incredible. Then I got to take a photo of my feet. That circle.. that's where we landed. Totally amazing.. totally exhausting.