"All About Networking...."

A long busy day today, and it's that moment just before bed when I think back to all I've done and said and heard and saw and this is what I came up with: "it's all about networking". That sums up my day. Well, most of it. I'm not sure the bike problem was networking, but you never know.

First, boys to school. Kieran wanted desperately to ride his bike because he's just learned without training wheels. Liam, not one to be outdone, also wanted to ride. So, I walked pushing Aidan in the stroller and the big boys biked. Except by the time I got to the school I was dripping with sweat, had a scowl on my face, was possibly cursing under my breath, and my heart would not return to it's regular calm beating. I nearly had a thousand kittens on the way to school. Watching Kieran hit the ditch and ride straight down the bumpy, grassy hill with his feet out to the sides like a double kickstand, heading straight for either a pine tree or into the blackberry bush. Me yelling, "hit the brakes!" and not having enough time to do anything about it--I almost let go of Aidan on the hill heading into the depths of traffic hell which is the mad rush of parents dropping their children off before hurrying to work themselves. And the scene from Battleship Potemkin running through my head as I imagined the pram bumping it's way to the stairs.

After that fiasco I went to a meeting for spouses and listened to women give tips about the job search on the island. "It's all about networking", they said. I sat there feeling pretty good--replaying last nights outing to the Children's Literature Roundtable, and anticipating another night out at the fiction writer's critique group that I would attend later that day.

And so the day is over now and I couldn't help but think "okay, I'm networking..." all the while I smiled and listened, and looked and commented. Now, what will come? We can't see what's around the bend, so I leave it in God's hands.

Now, should I let the boys bike again tomorrow? I'm not sure my ticker will take it!

A few words jotted down

This morning after Kier went off to school I took Aidan for a long walk to the view I've fallen in love with. Each step and some words started forming in my mind, and they kept reworking themselves until I had to stop, get out my notebook and scribble them down. What I came up with was either a first chapter to a YA novel, or a short story. After the jotting down, I walked some more, and stopped in at the hospital (I feel at home in hospitals), sat down on a bench and jotted down a better ending to the chapter. God it felt good.

I just love the high I get from writing. When I've written something that feels good and right and solid, I just feel this incredible elation. I'm not sure when it started for me, but I remember writing a poem in my mid-twenties and I felt like I had climbed to this summit that nobody else had ever been to. The view I was seeing was mine, and I wanted to share it with everyone I knew.

Now, here's a question. Is this normal? Do other people feel this overwhelming sensation that they have to write their thoughts down? Or am I just the crazy one?

Blue water's my daughter, I'm gonna skip like a stone. . .

Okay, I like Tom Waits, or some of his songs. The lyrics are amazing and at times strike a chord deep within me. When I left Owen Sound, I felt a need to be near the water, and was fortunate that Trent University was situated on the Otonabee River. My first summer away from home I worked at the Peterborough Marina, and my love of the water was fed well then. Growing up in a harbour town imprinted certain things in me, I'm sure. Like the names of boats. It was second nature to read the names of the ships as we passed them. I think the longing of a connection with my father was always there too. When I was old enough to row the boat at the cottage, I used to take my journal or whatever book I was reading out with me. I'd row to the little rocky island, or just a little out and drop anchor. And just float. God, that was when I felt real, and alive, and connected, and like anything in the world was possible.

When I moved out West, I was again in a city with a river, but none of the big ships. Still, I loved to walk along the Meewasin Trail and watch the pelicans scooping up their dinner, or see the lone beaver minding it's own business. I loved the walk across the bridge in the early morning, and again, the world was full of possibilites and hope.

And now, I'm on an island, and I feel so at home. On my morning walks with Aidan, I like to go to the highest point on the Goose near our place so I can see the Inlet. If nobody's looking, I salute it. I can't imagine ever wanting to leave.

I Blog, Therefore I Am!

I was hesitant to begin a blog because I wasn't sure where to start, or how to start, or what to say, or how much to say. Deepest, darkest secrets? Biggest, boldest dreams? Will anybody read this? Will anybody care? Is what I have to say important?

I've decided that this personal blog will be an exploration of who I am. It is not meant to chronicle the lives of my kids--though I'm sure there will be days where it seems that's all I do. I have been using Flickr for that. It might end up being a chronicle of myself as a hopeful writer and teacher. Though I began with my parent's stories, I do not intend it to be all about them. I simply needed a starting point.

Ultimately, I suppose, this blog is for me. If you choose to read along, welcome to you! If you wish to comment, go right on ahead. At the end of the day, we measure out our life with coffee spoons. . . might as well make each spoonful worthwhile.

Best,

Carol