A Letter from New York

I got a letter a few days ago, not an email, but an actual envelope delivered by the post office, with a stamp, an address, and a return address label stuck neatly in the upper left hand corner. I didn't recognize the woman's name on the label, Kathleen Warnock. Do I know a Kathleen Warnock, I asked myself... Then I saw the address under the name, New York it read, and my heart rate sky rocketed. New York was where I sent off my short story, 'Letting Go of Baggage'.

"Oh my gosh, this is it" I thought, standing there looking down at the envelope in my hand. "It's either my first rejection, or my first acceptance letter..."

I had almost forgotten about sending off that story; I've been so busy establishing myself as the best darn weed puller in the neighbourhood that I hadn't prepared myself... Whatever it was that was written on that piece of paper inside that plain white envelope was going to rock my world. I stood there looking at the envelope in my hand.

"Oh for cripes sake, open it', the voice inside of my head chided, so I ripped it open, taking extra care not to tear the paper inside....

"Dear Ms Levy'

This letter is to confirm the receipt of your submission to Best Lesbian Erotica 2010. The email you included with your submission bounced, so would you be so kind as to email me with your current email?

Your submission is currently being read. If it is chosen as a finalist, I'll let you know within the next month to six weeks. If it is not a finalist, I will still let you know...
....
Cordially,
Kathleen Warnock
Editor, Best Lesbian Erotica 2010

My email bounced. ... I must have proof read it all over a dozen times, and laboured over the format till I thought it was perfect, ... and I made a mistake on my email address! LOL!

Kathleen Warnock, Editor, Best Lesbian Erotica 2010, is a very nice woman to send me a letter asking me to email her with my current address. She could have just as easily shrugged her shoulders and said to herself "oh well, another one for the trash bin."

I'm keeping the letter anyway, it's the first time an Editor has ever written to me, but I'm refusing to count down the passing time of a month to six weeks.... Who am I kidding! LOL.

Baths are for butches too!

I had a bath last night, first I've had in a very long time. Now don't get me wrong, I do shower on a regular basis. I'm not a grubby, but I've always disliked the idea of just lollygagging there in the hot water with the soap suds, the day's dirt, sweat, and dead skin cells, all floating about in there with you. I've always opted for a shower because I thought it more efficient for washing those ucky things off of you and down the drain. I've also always thought that baths were for wooses; you know, the whole idea of pampering yourself... It just didn't sit right with my grin and bear it attitude .... Well let me tell you, baths are for butches too and I'm a convert! :)

Since I've begun my handy woman/garden maintenance business, my muscles have been aching, and I've pretty much accepted that as a fact of life. I've even come to enjoy the feeling at the end of the day, seeing that tired ache as a sign that I've put in a good honest day's work.

Recently though, my hands have been aching too, so much so that I've been awakened at night with the discomfort. So last night while washing up a few dishes I noticed just how good my hands felt in the hot water, and I had this incredible urge to submerge the rest of my arms into the sink, and then because I only managed to do so up to my elbows, the rest of my body cried out for the same luxurious treatment.

So in a moment of weakness, I ran a bath. I filled the tub as high as it could be filled with water as hot as I thought I could bear. ... I stepped in and slid into the tub... Oh my gawd... My toes and feet were the first to feel the effect, then my butt and thighs, my calf muscles, then up my back, to my shoulders and neck, and then my arms and hands. ...Did you know hands float? LOL. I didn't know that. (Grin)

Eventually the water began to cool, so I drained out about half and filled it again with hot water. What Indulgence! My whole body relaxed into a gelatinous state as the tension in each muscle eased and my joints and tendons clicked happily into a more comfortable position. I don't think I could have moved even if I wanted to... I lay there for the longest time in complete and utter bliss, submerged up to my face in hot water until I saw my floating finger tips begin to prune, and the water in the tub began to cool once more. ... I felt a few moments of regret as I watched the last of the warm water swirl around my ankles and down the drain, so I promised myself then and there that I'd have another bath soon.

I then showered, toweled down, and changed into my softest flannel boxers and cozy t-shirt. My partner took our dog Fizz out for her nightly piddle, so I didn't have to shed the comforting warmth that enfolded me, so I slipped it all in with me between the sheets, kissed my partner and pooch goodnight, and fell swiftly into the best sleep I've ever had.

I slept like a baby all though the night, and this morning my muscles and joints are nearly ache free. Life is good. My body and soul are in top form, and I'm rearing and ready for another day of hard work. :)

Common decency

Today I got another long term client, an older woman who has fallen down and hurt her hip and shoulder and can't do a lot of things for herself. Her daughter has been saying to her, "Mom, you gotta find someone to help you." So I'll be working for this woman three hours a week, gardening, - and this part I couldn't help because she needed me - mopping her kitchen floor and vacuuming. ... I wasn't thinking I wanted to do house work, but she was so grateful to have found me I couldn't refuse... I'm sure that the stuff about "Mom you gotta find someone to help you" is just a precursor to: "Maybe you should think about selling the house and moving into a retirement home." So it feels good that my working for this woman will be buying her some time before she has to do that. :)

I told a friend about it this evening, and she replied back saying it was wonderful and kind of me, and that I was an angel, that we reap what we sow, and that good deeds are rewarded....

Now, I'm feeling pretty good about myself, but not that good. I don't think I've done something special enough that it deserves such praise, and certainly not something so great that I should let that praise go to my head. I was just being a decent human being, and after all, I will be getting paid for the work I do. My good feeling came simply from being in a position that allowed me to exercise my own principles, but that's all it is, principles.

I'm not looking for a reward. I already got it. I feel good about my decision and I'm sure it will be appreciated, and that's all I need.

That's all anyone should need, don't you think?

Whistle while you work

I've been pretty low for most of this week. On Sunday my partner's father informed us that he can't help pay our property taxes like he has done in the past, so we have three months to come up with the money, making it somewhere around five hundred dollars a month we have to somehow find to make the payment. Added to that, when I told him about my new self employment he laughed, saying that if I was going to inspire people to hire me to care for their gardens, I would first have to get mine in better shape, and to top things off, my partner's mother offered to pay me to work in my own garden.

I know what my partner's parents opinion of me is, and it's difficult for me not to share it, being that I haven't held down a long term job in more than twenty years, and that my depression had made it so that I couldn't even drum up the enthusiasm needed to take care of my responsibilities here at home. It's difficult for me not to feel like a failure when I've spent most of my life dependent on others, and especially so at this time, when every penny coming into this house is desperately needed.

What had felt like an accomplishment the week before, suddenly didn't measure up, and the pride I felt about having started my little enterprise and gaining a bit of independence from my partner seemed like something only a child should be proud of. All the steam had left me, and I went back to work on Monday feeling like I was working my ass off for nothing. By Tuesday evening I was exhausted, and feeling more than a little sorry for myself.

Even now as I write this I'm struggling to not let these thoughts bring me back down, but the reason I am writing this is not to wallow in my self pity. Thursday afternoon I went back to work and something miraculous happened. I found myself whistling again, ... and that's kind of big in it self, because I don't whistle very well at all. (Grin)

You see, I really do enjoy gardening, and seeing the results of my hard work. I took a few minutes break from my weeding and trimming that afternoon and looked around at what I had done, and it looked very good. There's something very satisfying about tackling the chaos of an overgrown garden and turning it back into something beautiful. I might not have taken a course, or know the latin names of the plants that I'm dealing with, but I have an instinct for it, and I do know what I am doing, and that can only improve with experience.

I'm conscientious, and I'm not afraid of hard work, and this is what I am offering to those who hire me. I just started this business, and even though I might not be raking in the money right now when it is needed, there's no telling what will come of this little venture of mine. It probably never will become a cash cow, but it should gain me a bit of financial independence from my partner. More importantly, it's reminded me of some things about myself that I admire, some very basic things that I had forgotten, and need to hang onto to maintain my self respect.

I was foolish to let someone else's opinion take that away from me after so recently regaining it, and I've made a promised to myself to do everything I can in the future not to let that happen again.

So today, instead of going back to working at that over grown garden, like I had planned, and to tell you the truth, I can't wait to get back at it, I went to visit a couple of prospective clients, a retired man who wants me to maintain his flower beds, not much, but it's good to line up something long term, and a woman who wants me to work for her tomorrow. The later was only suppose to be a couple of hours work, but because of my having popped in to see her today, she's already talking about having me come back to do more, and she hasn't even seen what I'm capable of yet. :)

Ouch! :)

Now I know why the phrase working stiff was coined. There are approximately six hundred and forty muscles in the human body, and every one of mine are complaining just now. I only worked four hours today, yesterday two and a half, but when the muscles in my toes started to seize up I figured it was time to call it a day. It won't do anyone any good if I end up flat on my back. I gotta work into this slowly. my muscles have atrophied from sitting at the computer for so long, all expect for my fingers of course; those are in tip top shape, but they're even sore today.

I just had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, (I forgot to take a lunch with me) and it was the most marvelous thing I've ever tasted. It disappeared so quickly though. It was sad, so I got another, this time almond butter and honey. ... Oh my gawd! When people tell you how good you are going to feel when you start working again after being unemployed for a long time, they forget to mention all those little details, like how good your food is going to taste, how much pleasure a bath and a beer afterward will give you, or how much you will look forward to putting your feet up on the couch and dozing off while reading.

Life is good. Funny that, how working my ass off for a few buck can make the little pleasures in life all that much more enjoyable, ... and I haven't even got paid yet. (grin) ... Soon I'll be complaining like all you other working stiffs, that I don't have enough time to do the things I'd rather be doing, like writing, blogging, writing emails to my friends, or even my laundry. I'm actually looking forward to joining the ranks. But for now I'm feeling pretty good about doing what I'm doing, ... and I'll feel even better once I have a nice long soak in the tub. ... That reminds me, I have to buy some beer.

Cheers!

Handy Woman For Hire!

I've been unemployed for quite awhile, and because the jobs I've had in the past (way back when) were all physical labour jobs, it means that at the age of 49, 50 in a couple of months, I'm basically unemployable.

I finally decided I'm tired of this; I need to work. I need a few more bucks in my pocket to feel good about myself, more than my newspaper route can provide me with. So I created this flyer offering my services as a handy woman in the neighbourhood, not fooling myself that it would replace a full time income, but at least it would be a step up from delivering newspapers.

So today I got my first phone call. A fellow on the next street over wants to hire me to clean up his back yard - lots of leaf raking, and flower beds to put to order, stuff like that. We arranged it so I'll drop by tonight to have a look at it with him, but there's no question in my mind, I'll take the job, as long as he will have me do it. I'm almost 50 like I said, but I think I still have enough spit in me to work hard and make some sort of income at it, despite what I've been told over and over again by employers wanting to hire someone younger and stronger.

So I phoned my partner to tell her the good news and that "I need hand held gardening tools!" She chuckled knowing why I said that, and asked me to tell her all about it. Afterward she said she would buy the tools that I needed, but said that we would have to get a better set than the ones we've had before, the ones that broke after a bit of use, and that meant that she would have to use the credit card. So I replied, "that's okay, I'll pay you back just as soon as I get paid for my first job."

I had completely forgotten how good being able to say such a simple little thing could make you feel. :)

In need of a structured plan

Today I've been looking over that albatross of a novel that I wrote about half of, ten years ago, and I got that old familiar rush of adrenalin and firing neurons. It felt so good that I am seriously considering working on this piece again. It's been ten years, but there are still some things about it that I really like, and I haven't been able to just delete the file and be done with it. So I think I'll give it another go. Who knows, it might be good for me to have a long term project, something that's always there for me to think about and build on, rather than always coming up with something new.

I've forgotten where I was going with the story, but there nothing that says I have follow that old plan. I can make a new one. I'm the writer, and it's my prerogative to make it into whatever I wish. One thing I've learned by reading other writers blog posts is that they are constantly rewriting their work, ripping out parts, rearranging paragraphs, changing the perspective, often coming up with something entirely different that what they started with.

First, I need to come up with an outline, a structured plan that I can follow. I was just winging it when I started writing the novel, and I see now that it's no wonder I got stuck in the middle of writing it. I didn't know what I was getting into. I got swamped by the complexities of trying to bring all the different threads together and move them towards a conclusion that at the time, I wasn't even sure of. I developing characters without knowing if their presence would continue through out the story, and I barely touched on others that ended up playing more important roles.

The more I learn about writing, the more I realize just what sort of effort must go into writing a novel, and I am totally in awe of those who take on the task and complete it. For me it's both exciting and daunting, and so to give myself an extra little push, I've posted the stories prologue on my 'Out of My Head' blog. ... My thinking is that if I make such a public announcement about what I intend, I've no other choice but to follow through on my words. (Grin)

Right now the story's working title is 'The Bonding' and you can find the link to it's prologue on the right under the heading, 'My Stories'.

Self-consciousness is not all it's cracked up to be.

Hey...

So what about writing a blog post under the influence. You have no idea how I much I needed this. I needed a Friday night. I needed to break loose. I went out tonight with a bunch of women and played pool. I met a fellow butch from Nova Scotia where I grew up and went to college, and we did the slap on the back respect thing all night long. We might even have known each other back then; ... what a hoot!

My partner of the game flashed her cleavage at me as an incentive to make the shot; I didn't make it, but I didn't care; I blushed actually. (Grin) ... When she next had a difficult shot to make I recovered sufficiently enough to straddle the corner of the table and unzip my fly showing off my boxers as her incentive. She didn't make the shot either, but damn it was funny.

I don't care if this is rude and crude; I had fun, and I needed to. There's a freedom to letting go, that we have to allow ourselves every now and again. If we continuously make ourselves play by restricting rules, binding ourselves to certain modes of behaviour that we think is how we should behave, we forget what it's like to just let it all go and be. Even though our normal behaviour might be something we think is in keeping with who we are, there are parts of ourselves we leave unexpressed. And if there is anyone that should be accepting of who we are, in all our crude unpretentiousnes, it's ourselves. ... Too bad most of us need to have a few beer to allow ourselves that freedom.

Waiting for something to happen

"What's this?" said the rat.
"It appears to be a hole in the wall" said the other.
"What's it's doing there?" asked the first.
"Don't know", replied the other, "but if you stand by and watch, you'll be the first to find out."

And so while the first rat stood and watched the hole, patiently waiting to see what would happen next, the other went off and had first dibs in all the finest dumpsters in the city, partied all night long with the cool rats down at the dockyard, got a charge out of chewing on an exposed electrical wire, found a way into the local brewery's barley shed, and solved the age old mystery of how to get the cheese out of the trap, without putting one's neck on the line.

After a time the other rat wondered just how his friend the first rat was doing, so he decided to pay him a visit.

"How's it going?" he asked.
"Not bad" said the first.
"Anything happening? asked the other.
"No, replied the first with a sigh.
"C'mon, I'll buy ya a beer" offered the other, putting his arm companionably around the first rats shoulders, but to his amazement the first rat shook his head and said.
" Very nice of you to offer, but I can't leave now; I don't want to miss anything" ....

Again, Thank you TF, for providing the inspiration. :)

There's an elephant crashing in my garden shed!

Just when I was about to give up on ever writing anything again, Tom Foolery posted something on her blog called The Thirteen Knockers games. In the name of fun, we participants were to choose one of the thirteen doors. Behind each door there was a photo, taken by TF herself, and a word to help inspire our creativity. We could write anything we wanted, from a witty caption to a piece of prose, the only rule was to 'make us laugh'. Behind the door I chose was a photograph of what looked to be a small storage shed with tiny sign hanging from it, that said 'crash'. The inspirational word that TF's gave was 'Elephant'.

The reason I am posting this on my blog, however is not to elicit your opinions about how well it's written, or even if it makes you laugh. The reason I'm posting it is because I haven't had so much fun in months. It just came out of me, and I just have to share the experience. :)

... I forgot what it was like to write something simply for the fun of doing it. Lately I've been putting so much pressure on myself to create meaning in my life though my writing, and to prove to myself that I am worthy by producing meaningful work. These are still things I feel I need to do, but during all this soul searching and evaluation I've been doing, I forgot one crucial thing.

I forgot that one of the main reasons I like to write is because it's fun. I love playing with words, and when I'm in the middle of writing something there's nothing else in this world that I'd rather be doing instead.

TF Thank you. You can't possibly know how much I was needing to be reminded of this.

So anyway, here's the story:

There's an Elephant Crashing in my Garden Shed!

Have you ever seen an elephant crashing? Let me tell you, it's not a pretty sight. There's nothing sadder, or more life threatening then a depressed elephant. They have a tendency to just roll over and give up, and if you're not careful, they can take you down with them. The experience can leave you feeling totally flat. But if you happen to find yourself in a small storage shed with a crashing elephant, and if you have even an ounce of compassion, there’s nothing for it; it's up to you to get the two of you out of there, preferably, in an upright and three dimensional state.

Not an easy task however, especially if the shed that your elephant has chosen to hide him, or herself away in is small and dark, and it usually is, since elephants don't really like to be seen in public when they are down. Back yard garden sheds, large walk-in closets, and abandoned aircraft hangers are their choice of hiding places. (The latter chosen only by those elephants who really don’t wish to be found.)

It’s a popular belief that if an elephant hides away, what they are wanting is to be left alone in their misery. The small signs they post, somewhere on the outside of their hiding places, have been seen as considerate safety warnings for smaller creatures such as ourselves, to keep out of harm’s way. But even though elephants are by nature normally very gentle, and wouldn’t even want to hurt a mouse if it happened to cross their path, the fact that the sign’s meaning and placement are so obscure, somewhat counters this altruistic notion, and suggests that the elephant might actually be hoping to be found.

Once you enter the shed, and chances are that one day you will, since backyard storage sheds are a popular choice, not only for depressed elephants, but also for storing lawn mowers and leaf rakes in as well, you’ll have to keep your wits about you. Move quickly (crashing elephants tend to fling themselves dramatically about), and say just the right things... And never, I mean never, give the impression that you are the least bit concerned about your own safety; even though at this point you are probably thinking, what the heck have I gotten myself into? You might as well sign over the deed to the plantation right then and there if you show any sign of fearing for your life, because that's one of the main reasons elephants get depressed in the first place.

You see, elephants take up a lot of space, and it is something they are constantly aware of. The thought that they could easily crush another being if they are not careful is a constant concern of theirs. Because their size is always an issue, an elephant can begin to question their worthiness to occupy so much space, and as every human being knows, such thinking will only back you into a corner of debilitating self doubt, or in the elephant’s case, into a small, dark storage shed.

Somehow, you have to convince your elephant that despite his or her size, his or her inherent proficiencies will prevent such an unpleasant occurrence from ever happening. Gently, you must remind the elephant (that’s frantically pacing inside your garden shed,and at that very moment threatening your life and limb) that the ability he or she is questioning, is something they innately have, and just as soon as they stop worrying about whether or not a moment of clumsiness will cause the death of another living being, their natural gracefulness will simply take over. The mere fact that you even entered the shed in the first place will go a long way in backing up your words, but you might want to calmly point that fact out to the elephant, because contrary to popular belief, some elephants can be rather thick.

Even an elephant can use a friend now and again, so if one happens to have chosen you and your storage shed, instead of rushing off to the nearest phone to call the animal control, try to see the interloping as a sign of respect and trust. And if you happen to have any peanuts in your pantry, rush off to get those instead; you never know, the elephant in your shed may not have eaten in quite awhile, and many a friendship has developed over the sharing of a few dry roasted nuts.