can you hear the horses? 'cos here they come

i am exceedingly lucky to live in a place that is mostly free from major light pollution. it's even better when you drive for a few minutes down the road, heading southwest, or due east into the country side where the only light comes from barns spaced wildly and erratcially down the sideroads of the rocky land that has been eked out by generations of farmers.

on monday night, i found myself laughing at tales of misadventure while sitting in a sauna constructed out of an old hockey rink. there's a gargoyle on the pinnacle of the roof, who watches over you when the door gets cracked for bursts of fresh air in between the claustaphobic bursts of steam resulting from dipper-fulls of well water tossed on the woodstove's hot rocks.

when i stepped outside to trace the flagstones across the muddy lawn back to the house, my feet bare and my skin smelling faintly of sunlight bar soap, i had to stand for a while underneath the swath of stars. the steam from both my breath and my skin traced small patterns across the dark as i craned my neck, searching for cassiopeia, orion, the pleiades, and the north star.

sometimes i am taken aback by such small things.

blame it on my add, baby

i am standing in front of one of the stainless steel work tables we have, sliding pieces of lake trout into vacuum packing bags and listening to aaron tell me about his strange dreams from the night before. he explains that he dreamt that he won a car in the roll up the rim to win campaign tim hortons wages on unassuming folk every year. with a twist.

"the cup turned into bacon" he says. there is a brief pause, my hands held midair. "and then into chips."

i throw back my head and laugh.

it's been an odd few days. i went on a date last wednesday with the older brother of an acquaintance from high school. we pushed a stranded jeep down a rough trail in shin deep snow. i met his pet alligator. we got lost in the forest. there were snacks. we made out like sixteen year olds. we've spent a portion of the last three days out of four together. i know i'm hardly one to talk, but he is an exceedingly odd duck. i'm not even sure what to think, but maybe that is actually ok.

regrets collect like old friends

i am watching harry potter and dumbledore is about to die and it is still sad enough to make my throat ache.

i've put aside being an adult this afternoon and have spent the past few hours on the sofa crocheting baby diaper covers and eating popcorn for dinner. there's something about saturday afternoons that call for strange food eaten in a particular order. i'm also convinced that saturdays call for no pants and afternoon naps, chasing maude with her father stick, sending off random texts to internet strangers, looking up recipes to dye popcorn kernels, and chortling madly at reddit links.

yes. saturdays should be like that.

this is what love is for, to be out of place

i woke up to the particular kind of light that means there's a blanket of snow on the ground. everything was soft and quiet and i could hear birds flitting to and from the cedar tree that stands tall outside my bedroom window.

it's my ex-boyfriend's birthday today. sometimes when i close my eyes he is so present that my breath catches and my heart skips a beat. today is one of those days. it is strange and hard because i would love to send him my very best regards, and tell him again how grateful i am for everything that relationship and its eventual demise did for me, in terms of growth, and learning, and acceptance. i'm not sure that he would understand, or even be able to try to comprehend any of that though. actually, most people in my life have problems understanding the depth of meaning i took from that relationship, and why- even though it was only a year, and splitting was the best choice for us both- it took me so long and so many sad days before i could get excited about coffee again.

so i'll send out my good thoughts, and hopes for a cake, and a nice dinner with his sweetheart, and time with the dogs, and a good conversation with the little girl, and trust that on some level, those regards make their way to him.

this whole being an adult is so weird.

you take it on faith, you take it to heart

i found myself at a hot yoga class tonight.

there's something so nice about pretending to be a lizard under a heat lamp while contorting yourself into random different bends and stretches. i thought afterwards about going out for a glass of wine with the mom unit and heather, but once we got to the cafe, the inadvertent strobe light effect of the fan across the fluorescents sent me stomping up the hill in my boots, breath fogging out in short bursts as i counted my steps.

the cat definitely approved of my choice to come home, as she's currently sucking the blanket and making bread beside me.

'cos i've been hanging on you

bell sent me an email today that told my i had nearly reached the limit for my monthly internet usage.

perhaps marathoning through four seasons of house whilst reclining on the sofa subsisting on popcorn and orange juice wasn't the best choice in terms of productivity this week? it totally did wonders for the plague, though.

i sat down with a coffee on my bent knee

i have a mad girlcrush on a man named john.

the first date we went on was at a coffee shop. he walked in the door (which i of course had been guardedly watching out of the corner of my eye over my mediocre americano like a freaking hawk) and i nearly choked. in a good way. we spent four hours drinking coffee and talking about things like mental health awareness, linen preferences, political stances, and whether breakfast for dinner was the best or the worst. (for the record, it's the best and i will not be convinced otherwise).

on our following dates, we drank wine in my living room with a random playlist i mashed together and disclosed all of those things you're supposed to disclose. we also made out like sixteen year olds. or, well, what i imagine sixteen year olds make out like since i didn't really kiss anyone when i was sixteen. i waited until i was twenty, and it was not particularly memorable in a good way.

however, john is at a point in his life where he needs some time, and doesn't feel like he can date anyone. insert the super sad trombone noise here.

while i am attempting to respect this declaration, i am also embracing my sixteen year old self and have sent off what i feel is a respectful, witty, and did i mention respectful? text that has resulted in the possibility of coffee next week. i am leery at holding out a great deal of hope, but that whole "embrace optimism! take chances!" sentiment usually wins out.

perhaps, though, i should have refrained from telling him that i sounded like a two bit whore with a whiskey problem. maybe?