Show me the way to go home

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“Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was.”  ―  Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care

~~

I’m almost at the end of my ordeal, which is good because I’m almost at the end of my rope.  It has been 11 days since I have been out of my house due to a horrible wind storm bringing down my power lines.  The work has been done to reconnect the panel and bury my new hydro lines, but I am now waiting on the administrative portion of the process to ensue before I can have power restored and finally move back into my house.  I don’t care if it looks like this when I return – I just want to go home.

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The process, from start to almost finish, has been a real experience.  (It was difficult to type that last sentence without using some really good expletives.)  Although my electrician has explained to my insurance company the value of burying the new wires underground to alleviate any more claims in the future, the insurance company will only cover the dollar value of replacing the existing above-ground power supply.  $$

Because HydroOne insisted on have a schematic of the trench where the lines would be buried (which was veritably a straight line) this delayed the process by 5 days and I had to remove and dispose of the contents of my fridge and freezer.  $$

After a call to HydroOne this morning to find out when they could restore my power, I was sent a contract (with the wrong name and address, mind you) and was told that I now have to pay them $325.00 before they will even come to my house to restore power because I upgraded my equipment.  $$  I have had several people do work at my house and I don’t recall EVER paying those contractors until the job was completed.

After lowering my blood pressure and after the anger subsided, I could still feel a pang of unrest in my stomach.  That familiar feeling I had as a child had reared its head again and I felt homesick.  Send me the fucking bill, with my name on it this time, get some employees out to my house and please turn my power back on.  I just want to go home.

What rhymes with Mousseline?

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Perhaps I have been stuck in this hotel room for too long and am beginning to lose my mind, or maybe this trip down memory lane was just the journey I needed to lighten my mood.

I will preface this post with a small back story.  I used to work at a hotel years ago and the Executive Chef and the General Manager, both from England, were a lot of fun to work with.  After working long hours and busy shifts together we all became friends.  We would spend our down-time after our dinner shifts by sitting the Chef’s office drinking Port and eating Stilton on Rice Crackers.  Ah, the good old days.

It was during one of these evenings that I revealed  how much I liked to write poetry.  They were intrigued and asked many questions about the type of poetry I wrote and the subject of my poems.  I could not really pinpoint a common theme because I wrote about anything that struck me as worthy of writing about.  It was then the gauntlet was thrown.  Between the two of them, they would choose a subject and I would have to come up with a poem worthy of both of their praises.  The challenge was on.

I arrived at work the next morning to a very official looking envelope on my desk.  The content of that envelope was my writing challenge.  Knowing these boys as well as I did, I opened the envelope with a bit of trepidation.  Written on a piece of hotel letterhead was nothing at all what I expected to find.  It was a recipe.  They wanted me to write a poem from a recipe and, judging by the smug looks on their faces, they fully anticipated failure on my end.

I took the recipe home and vowed that I would emerge the victor.  I wrote, rewrote and when I was satisfied with my final product I took my own piece of letterhead, printed my effort on that letterhead and put it in an envelope, leaving it on the Chef’s desk for his perusal when he returned the next day.

You’ve no doubt heard the term radio-silence.  That is what work was like for the next 24 hours.  The boys said nothing.  I was too proud to ask what they thought and waited patiently until they finally broke the silence and handed me a full bottle of 25-year old Taylor Port.  They had conceded.  I had won.   Here are the methods of the recipe and my poetic adaptation in italics:

maple mousse

(image credit: mapledelights.com)

MOUSSELINE OF MUSKOKA MAPLE SYRUP

Method:

Mix the egg yolks and sugar together and stir vigorously until it becomes white and creamy.  Add the maple syrup and, in a bowl, stir over a pan of hot water, stirring constantly as you go.  When the mixture thickens, take it off the heat and set aside to cool.  Add the gelatine leaves while it is still warm and stir.  Fully whip the cream and fold it into the cool syrup mixture.  Then half whip the egg whites and fold them into the mixture.  Place in the fridge for 1 hour and serve with the Lime Coulis.

Mix the yellow, let it mellow, in a bowl with sweet, Add the syrup, gelatin and water, stir over a pan of heat.

When it thickens, give it a lickin and take it off to cool,  Whip the cream, and fold it in, don’t eat it yet you fool.

Take the whites to make it right and add those in as well, Put this in the fridge to cool and your mousse is done pray tell.

LIME COULIS

Combine lime juice, orange, sugar, cinnamon and water and cook for 20 mins.  Run through fine chinois and add lime zest.  Return to heat for five minutes and then chill.  Pour over the mousseline and top with dark chocolate shavings.

Combine the stuff, although it’s rough, and simmer on the stove, Leave out the zest, as this is best, cook for 20 mins by jove.

When this is done, through fine chinois it will run, and then you add the lime, Return to heat, til 5 minutes is beat, and then you’re out of time.

Chill the sauce, this is boss, then pour over the mousseline, Top with choc, you’re ready to rock, dig in with spoon until clean.

Caffeine Deity – Trifextra challenge

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Rulers of space, controllers of destiny – you will appreciate me more than most, for all of your senses will drink me in. Affairs of humanity are best served when Buddha’s cup is full.

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Written for the weekend Trifecta Challenge: Buddhist cosmology tells of Trāyastriṃśa, or the Heaven of Thirty-Three gods, which rule over the human realm.  This weekend we’re asking for exactly 33 of your own
words about a god of your own devising that shares heaven with the other thirty-two gods.  Make it yours and have fun with it

(image credit: fineartamerica.com)

A moment of disquiet

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I have no words.

I feel imprisoned within four walls that don’t belong to me.

Lost in a familiar setting, missing the comforts of home.

Thankful for the roof over my head, but a stranger in these confines.

Going through the motions, watching the clock.

Incessant thoughts running through my mind.  Can’t sleep.

Life is out of my control.

Cracks in my resolve.

I am a creature of habit.  I miss my routine.

I make the best of my dilemma.  I rise above and adapt.

Fleeting moments of angst are replaced by gratitude.

Calming breaths.

Hope for resolution and restoration.

Longing for Mr. Sandman.

Maybe sleep will come tonight.

sleep

Stuck – 100 Word Song

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If only I could let the world see me,

see where I linger.

Caught between two worlds, separated only by a reflection.

I continue to write my words, words that come from a place deep within myself,

but those words will never be seen.

Reality lies above and below me.

I can hide in both of these worlds, torn between them,

never sure of which world I will feel truly defined.

I play a role in each of these spaces.

I let those others who dwell here see only pieces of me, not the whole picture.

Caught between my realities.

Above-and-Below

~

(image credit: naturesedgestudio.ca)

Written as a first attempt at the 100-Word Song Challenge.   Lance introduced me to this challenge and I thought I would give it a try.

This is what it’s about –  A song is chosen and the post that is written has to be somewhat based on that song and written in exactly 100 words.   This week’s 100 word song – Above & Below – The Bravery. 

Oh yeah, well wait ’til you hear what happened to me….

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Perhaps this is a rant or perhaps it is a series of casual observations that have manifested into cause for a blog post.  Regardless of the reason, these words interrupted my sleep and wanted to be written.

Each one of us has a collection of friends that is as diverse as the hues throughout the color spectrum.  And although we tend to gravitate to like-minded individuals, there are always the few friends that add the spice to our lives – those people who share similar interests but sometimes deviate so far from our idea of normal behavior that we simply shake our heads and wonder why.

During my 44 years on this revolving Earth I have met a myriad of characters – it comes with the territory when you work in hospitality.  But I have only experienced a few people who live their life by one simple standard.

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(image credit: keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk)

Every story ever told seems to pale in comparison to what this person has experienced.  If you have faced medical issues, they have narrowly escaped amputation.  If you were in a car accident, they were extracted from an accordion, that used to be a vehicle, by two fire departments using the jaws of life.  You will never have one experience in your life that this person has not endured more suffering under the same circumstance.  There is no conceit involved.  They don’t ever claim to be the best at anything in their life, but they most definitely have encountered every situation in a more personal and more painful way.

Over the years I have learned how to spot these people fairly quickly.  They don’t tend to hide in a crowd for long and I have learned to limit my conversation about any personal issues for fear of hearing another calamity that is monstrous compared to my story.

Perhaps during my next encounter with one of these people I will suggest that they should live in a bubble!

Warm nights and home cooked meals

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After feeling displaced after the recent storm, there is something inherently comforting about being in a familiar place.  Although hotel living is difficult and I am realizing how much of a homebody I really am, things could be much worse.

My hydro situation is at least another week from being rectified and although I felt great frustration today, I stopped for a moment to count my blessings and realize how fortunate I am.  I have a roof over my head, I am surrounded by warmth and I am among friends.  Waking up to this view isn’t half bad either.

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My new work family is looking after me and making sure I don’t feel like I am being a burden.  I enjoyed a nice warm meal today, compliments of Karen, and I will sip on my glass of wine and bury all the negative feelings I had today towards HydroOne.   Life is much too short to spend these moments being bitter and angry.

The nocturnal time-bomb

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Last night I had a nightmare.  I have no recollection of the horror at all but I awoke in the wee hours of the morning and I was sobbing, full on heaving sobs, and tears were streaming down my face.  I can honestly say I’m relieved that I don’t remember the theme of the night terror that I survived. Naturally, it got me thinking about nightmares and why they occur.

Nightmares are simply a combination of our history of events and many of those nightmares are caused by the stress of those same calamities.  Whether we realize it or not, we may be dealing with some issues that take hold of our subconscious and wreak havoc in our dream world.  We may not even comprehend that we are holding onto so much of what happened in our day, or our week, but it builds up like a brick wall that crumbles in our sleep and the shrapnel plummets into our waking moments.

Stress is fickle creature.  It can inhabit our daily life as much as it creeps into the blissful hours that should be our time to recharge.   When I went to bed, I carried with me each particle of energy-draining angst that I had accumulated throughout my day and the stress of what has been happening with my home.  Nightmares and dreams paint a picture of what is happening in our life.  Whether that portrait is drenched in vibrant colors or tarnished with mottled shades of black and grey, the visions in our sleep depict our mood and illustrate the tension we are storing in your body.

I am in awe of the seemingly limitless catastrophes that a human body can endure and process.  Any type of mental anguish it represses during the day will certainly appear in our unconscious state giving us signs that we are walking on a ledge.

We need to find a way to clear our negative energy before the weight of our day begins to pull down the blankets of our eyelids.  We will at least have a fighting chance of supplying the artist in our sleep with a pallet of spirited rich colors instead of the monochromatic, threatening spatters of charcoal and black.  If we can free our head of that ticking time bomb called stress, we can reclaim our restful night of unadulterated sleep.

Focusing on the positive

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The last couple of days have been stressful, to say the least.  My puppy and I are still currently residing in one of the rooms at the lodge where I work and there is still some work to be done at my house before it is safe to move back in and have the power restored.

It’s been frustrating and I feel, in a way, like I have been taking advantage of my employers (they assure me otherwise).  I have spoken to a least eight Hydro One employees to try to rectify my situation and, after several trips circling the drain and not getting a straight answer, I think we finally have it sorted out.

But as I sit here in a warm room with the football game on the television, I realize that things could have been much worse.  My house could have burned down and I could have been left in the cold with no roof over my head or friends to lend me shelter.  Life really is about focusing on the positive.

I went for a walk this morning with my puppy and the blue sky and sunshine helped to clear any of the remaining negative thoughts that may have been residing in my brain – remnants of my adventures this weekend.  The cloud in the picture below hovered above us and the way the sun shone on the small formation at the top, it illuminated the shape to look like Pac-Man.  That ethereal icon continued to eat his way through the clouds until nothing was left but an expansive view of pure blue sky.  Only a strange ghost-eating fragment of my youth could have been the catalyst that made me focus on the good.  It made me see the positive which was otherwise temporarily masked by a shroud of looming clouds.

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The sky in my mind once again matches the blue of the sky outside.  Once I remembered to focus on the good things in my life, the rest of it all but washed away.

Letting go – Trifextra Challenge.

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On now to our quick Trifextra challenge.

In The Scorpio Races,
author Maggie Stiefvater writes, “It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die.”  Give us the next thirty-three words of this story, as you imagine it.  Take it wherever you like, but make it original and make it 33 words exactly.

~

The words echoed as she hovered near him, her warm hand on top of his chilled skin.  He would never come out of the coma.  The monitor flat-lined and he was at peace.