emjayne

Much has changed, and most of it for the better.  Most importantly, I married my best friend on September 19th.  I also started a small Treasure Trove to offset the (!!!) cost of my braces, and have applied to a PR program at McGill.   Life seems to be speeding up and sharpening, if ya ken.

More updates to come!  I've missed this space.

More wedding photos here.

Staying home with Sohrab today. He got hit with strep throat. Held him tightly at the clinic yesterday, quietly freaking out inside as he shook with fever. I've never actually heard someone's teeth chatter with fever chills before. Thank goodness for antibiotics.

When I arrived home, I knocked (which I don't normally do), and Sohrab opened the door just a crack before closing it suddenly. I thought it was a game, so walked back down the hall. I stood halfway down the next flight of steps and practiced a petulant expression. The door opened slowly, I stayed put, in full pout mode. His head edged around the door, and he gestured for me to approach. I walked into the livingroom and felt my breath leave in a happy Valentine's whoosh. He'd placed a single rose in a glass bottle in the middle of the room, turned off all the lights, and pointed a flashlight at the bloom. It glowed, scarlet and lovely in the large dark space.

Then he turned on the lights, and our friend Jerry, who'd been visiting when I came home unexpectedly early, uncurled from his hiding spot beside the couch, with a sheepish smile on his face.

Good way to start the weekend :)

Sunday at the office, not all the lights are on, so I'm able to watch the sky fade as night creeps in. Wrapping things up, prepping for the efficiency experts (blonde, professional, dubbed 'the Bobs' in an affectionate nod to Office Space). Thinking about Coraline, but don't think I want to go on my own. Food? Uncertain signals coming from belly. Books? Always a safe bet. Indigo, here I come!

Feeling sick. Time for couch. Couch and another vacation kinda movie. And mint tea.

There were cherry blossoms on the sidewalks, I remember that much. A sliver of blue sky above, barely registering as sky, and more like reflections of the skyscrapers, slamming up against a mirror. It was too pretty for words, so I tried a camera, and that didn't work either. I tried to find things that made for easier photo subjects. Mailboxes in primary hues wrapping around numbered street corners. Interesting people framed in interesting doorways. Frames within frames. Stories to capture and make part of mine, because I was a little too lost and scared in this Big City to start anything I wanted to be responsible for. Yet when I think back, the first memory, the strongest, loneliest and happiest one, is stepping resolutely forward into a haze of Applish sound, and watching the multitudes of pink petals move in their independent and beautiful ways on the sidewalk and street ahead of me, as far as I could see.

Himillsy Dodd angered her God
And rhyme hid the seriousness of the moment
From me
At least the first time
(Though all were creations of a mind that blinks out at the world
Behind round black frames that make worthless targets of the
Central blues)
And Martin Sloane struggles in the woodshed
With complex taxonomies of memory, wounds, and childhood goblins
Re-arranging remembered spaces for
Optimal Wonder and Fear
This Redhill fellow inhabits a city that shunned me (perhaps it was mutual)
but the path he laid down for me (and worlds, but this morning it felt like
a direct and intimate communion) drew me into Galway
Loving copies of a child's artful constructions
A one way communication, bottled and hammered onto gallery walls
In an effort to Establish Contact Before He
fell off the edge of the world and into the 7 holes where Cygnus used to glow
Before we let out all the light
Like hands reaching down through a ceiling we KNEW to be the sky
And extinguished all the stars
In both tales, no one gets their good byes
And into the waking world we come, to tea, and day old bagels,
the warm waking skin of a loved one serving as the landmarks
leading me back from the sad and beautiful pages
into a sunny Sunday morning
while I wait
for the unwritten page
to turn

Weekend case is packed (the little silvery freebie I got during the botched clothing launch in Toronto) and I wish tomorrow's workaday were over so I could be on the train, chuff-chug-zooming my way westward for a much needed together weekend. Can't wait to go for a morning walk by the lake...

Am also feeling apprehensive about camping on Labour Day weekend. Haven't been in over a decade, and the group I'm going with seems to be of the "just leave the car and hike for a day/ all you need is a knife and maybe a towel" camping mentality.

I really feel that there ought to be a short & creepy nursery rhyme to accompany this photo of Maery.

Chris stood in front of the gorgeous entrance to  Redpath Hall and the light on the door seemed to create a halo behind his head.


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