raccoon-eyed day

Outside, snowdrops are coming up in the neighbours' yards. There are bulbs growing in our yard too, though we're still waiting to see what they are. All this evidence of life coming out of cold earth makes me hopeful. This evening, I watched hazy wisps of cloud drift across the full moon as the wind picked up around us. The weather is up to something out there.

I'm hoping for a good sleep tonight. Last night I lay awake for hours and enroute to work at 4:30 a.m. felt strongly motivated to find a job with better hours. I saw my raccoon eyes in the mirror later on, and the resolve strengthened. Nine to five, Monday to Thursday would do nicely, if I must work, though really I would love to just be home baking and painting and living my life. I dropped off a resume at an art store today, but was so tired that I attached my grocery resume instead of my art/retail one. Tomorrow I'll go back and explain myself and buy some gouache.

The rabbits are out as I type this, their soft footfalls surrounding me as they roam.  (They also got on the keyboard again... Seven: /1` ]=\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\, Zephyr: 45, Seven: ?? 65 122222222222)

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I'm staying up "late" to write this (with a 4 a.m. wake up tomorrow, bedtime shifts much earlier) because it feels important, a kind of commitment to myself. The cats have just come in from their evening posts on the front steps, and we're settling in. Today began with a nervous drive to work and flew by in the way that balancing baking trays and trays of tarts and pastries on a timeline does. Not a single stall on the way home today (!) and I was stuck behind a bus too.

This evening we came home smelling of hay and horses. We filled big bags with loose timothy hay swept from the floor of my uncle's trailer*. At $30 for a medium-sized bag at the pet supply store, it felt almost like driving home with a car full of sweet-smelling gold. I am so grateful for the generosity of our relatives here. Last night we came home with three dozen multicoloured eggs after visiting J's parents.

Driving out to visit my aunt's horse with our car full of hay, the sky glowed vibrant pink and orange behind tall Douglas-firs and old Garry oaks. It rained a little this afternoon, in a soothing, refreshing way. Sometimes life on this island seems so delicate and precious. Soon endangered Garry oak meadows will fill with resplendent waves of purple satin flowers, white fawn lilies and pink shooting stars. But looking down at the smooth rock and gnarled roots, I'm reassured.

* if anyone in Victoria is looking for a good source of hay please let me know

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a sleepy day; nothing much to say

The light this afternoon reminded me of springtime in the Selkirk mountains, the bare trees and dry pavement washed out in cool brightness. I walked home from town in a t-shirt; the air was mild and pleasant.

Work today was redeeming, for both it and I. It helped that today was a tart shift, and began at a somewhat more palatable hour. I like baking the tarts and pastries, and today I somehow did so much more quickly than usual, on pace even with what is expected. If only I could keep the tart days and ditch the early muffin shifts. The early mornings leave me feeling battered. I spent the late afternoon and early evening cocooned in blankets on my bed, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.

The rabbits are getting so comfortable out in the house. Seven hops in circles around me on the blanket and Zephyr roams, occasionally coming back for little nudges.

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good things prevail

The sun came out during my walk home today. Blue sky appeared and gulls wheeled across it like slices of cloud. From an ornate old upstairs window came the sound of someone practicing a clarinet. What looked like a sale price of $29.99 turned into $10.99 when I got to the till. J picked me up along the way and we went and bought two pairs of awesome old binoculars for ten dollars. I opted to walk the 7.7 km home rather than spend money on the bus or face stalling downtown in traffic again. I got my patient, wonderful partner out of bed by 4:30 this morning so he could come to work with me and bring the car home. Between his calming presence and the lack of traffic at this predawn hour, the drive went perfectly.

It's so nice when good things prevail. This morning around five, my body did not appreciate being at work. Bed is at its finest between one and six in the morning, and I think my subconscious may have been trying to help me out by getting my body to play sick. Suddenly nausea, a sore back, brain will not compute... but I'm the only one there at that hour and the baking must get done somehow so it isn't especially useful. It's also hard to tell how one ought to be feeling at that hour after another restless night of sleep (I don't sleep well anticipating that early alarm). When I left work, the people I walked past looked like versions of my own worn-out state - anxious, drawn faces and tired eyes. I tried to smile at them. On boulevards and in gardens beside the sidewalk, green shoots coming up already. And then, the arrival of the aforementioned sun...

I've been putting out feelers for new work in Victoria, and am cultivating my resume, hope, and some intro emails.

Right now the rabbits are on a blanket in the living room with me. Seven, my delicate black bunny who named herself by jumping on J's keyboard and googling "7", has been all over my computer. She somehow enabled code in this post, which I turned off because I haven't learned it, and here is what else she had to say:



For all I know, she might be a very mathematically advanced rabbit. Now Zephyr is skittering around the kitchen, her furred feet sliding out on the old linoleum. The dishes are taking over in there, but I feel okay getting to them later, knowing that I looked at job postings and tweaked my resume this afternoon. Tomorrow is my Friday, then there will be a clean house and birthday celebrations for J. Things are looking up.

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