I can't believe It's 2007. I say that every year though...I told one of my coworkers that time must seem to go faster when you reach adulthood as you are no longer waiting for the milestones and events that make one "grown up" that take so long to come when you are that age.
She told me not to worry, as time slows down again once you are old enough to start counting down to the milestone of retirement. Hah!
For some reason I feel like doing the obligatory "look back", even though as usual I spent most of the time thinking "I gotta quit being so lazy-tomorrow! Or next year!" Ah as someone who lives by the power of inertia, I have to confess that I avoid change like the plague. Of course this year change has forced it's way into my life, like it or not. The year has been bookended with life altered and lost, my dad's death in March and now my aunt's terminal prognosis. With the death of my dad, I know nothing can be picked up and put back the way it was again. Well such changes are irrevocable so I am forced into learning to live with them.
In May, I finally finished my certification as a CCA (and I think the redesignation of the term from SCA is stupid but I need to make a New Year's Resolution to rant less about stupidity) after a year and a half of on and off classes, first by correspondence and then in a classroom setting. I discovered that I still hate school, though I admit I do miss many of the people I trained with.
My training did prove invaluable at the end of my dad's life as I was able to do all of his personal care, and my teacher was very helpful. That was especially appreciated as my entire family was next to useless through the last few months.
Then of course it was left to actually get a job (well in the public system rather than the crummy private facilities that is-I already had one of those). When I did my practicum at the lodge in February I hated it and was dreading having to work there. I have since gotten over it and am slowly improving, even at the 6 am shift. I managed through my first death and only sobbed like a baby about it for a day or two...I just finished my probationary period in December-now I am in with the union and they will never be rid of me! Bwahahahaha!
Mama and I also decided to take a trip out to the Maritime region. She and my Dad were going to go out there on their honeymoon and never got any farther than Montreal. They said they'd go one day-eventually (now you know where I get it from). Dad especially wanted to see the Confederation bridge after it had been built. This of course never happened, so we decided to go out there "for" him so to speak. It was lovely, as we went in the fall. Some regions of the country actually have seasons other than winter, summer and transitional week.
This has not been a particularly prolific year for me artistically. I have spent most of it obsessing over Athanasius and yet getting sidetracked continually, so all is normal in my own special world where one can exhibit traits of both ADHD and OCD at once. Now that I am actually getting somewhere on the project I am beginning to feel a little better, provided the World's Most Retarded Cat leaves it alone.
As mentioned I had a quilt published in a national magazine and tour across the US before being returned in November. I won't beat that horse anymore. Other than that, I did a few baby quilts-the one for my newest nephew/hellion James is of the most ugly fabric, but it has dragons and flames on it so I knew my brother would like it. It turned out much nicer than I expected, fabric notwithstanding. And I thought about the gospel as I made it.
I kept somewhat busy with decos and such, not as many as I would have liked though. I have also been keeping a "visual journal of mundanity" which has provoked some bemused expressions from others who come into contact with it. Still...trying...to force...self...to use...sketchbooks!
I finished numbers 44 to 66 of CIP . Yeah not a ragingly high number of pieces, but I am steadily working on it, if The World's Most Retarded Cat doesn't manage to destroy any more pieces (she is particularly fond of carrying the work for If I Had to Die For Someone up and down the house-hiding it does no good-I am convinced she must seek it out specially).
Speaking of The WMRC, when we went on vacation we asked someone to check on Morgana-which they did not do, so she disappeared. We live in a trailer, and with winter approaching, one does not go without a cat unless one is a magnanimouse person who has decided the little rabid hanta-virus spreading critters of the field need love too. At your house.
We are not those ones, so we got a new cat. She has turned out to be an idiot savant. She lays in her litter box, the friggin dumbbunny. However she displays an amazing capacity for getting at small things and playing with them to their destruction. And despite her abject stupidity, she is pretty cute.
WMRC is her official title, but her name is Marty. She's black and white, and my brother the catnamer picked the name as his son is obsessed with Madagascar. Usually we call her in the manner of the slow motion scene from the film; Maaarrrrttttyyyy.. oh sugarhoneyicetea-uh yeah the hellions were also enamored of the show and we have all seen it enough times to have memorized ninety percent of the dialogue.
Oh and the Hellions have been a town away from us since March or so. This has wreaked some interesting havoc with our lives, but we are finding ourselves adjusting accordingly. Not without complaining, as Moores are wont to do.
We are adjusting to all the changes we hate so much. Life in a state of flux has almost become routine over the past few years (if that's possible). Maybe I will even learn embrace change and make necessary ones myself. Tomorrow though. Or next year.