10:08 a.m.

I am running late, because I got caught up in catching up on Catherine Jamieson’s website and am still not completely through all the entries (“notes,” she calls them, and they’re my favourite part of her site, lovely photos notwithstanding) missed while I was away. Catherine is one of those people whose writing I read with something akin to shame because I do not write like that!

(Now listen. Don’t write and tell me not to be so hard on myself. If you know me, have heard me speak, you know that my sense of humour is a bit on the dry side [I think; wouldn’t you say so Jane, Rod, Cathy, Fran?] and that in writing I can sound serious when I am being a bit flip. That said, I envy Catherine’s view of life and her turn of phrase, while completely understanding and accepting that I am what I am and there’s a place in the world for me, too.)

I have, on the other hand, got a batch of bread started, washed the dishes, and run myself a bath. So all is not lost. It’s just that I will be putting my nose to the grindstone of paying work a little later than usual today.

The photo is Emil looking into a mirror that my friend Clever made for me. I have yet to get it hung, because I haven’t decided what colour to paint the wall behind it and because it takes me forever to get around to jobs like that, which seem large and daunting and overwhelming to me.

There is a bit of yellow in the glass bits, and I am partial to yellow while not fond of flesh tones. And Scott’s heels are firmly dug in against anything but the existing white! I have been advised to paint it while he is away, which is excellent advice if it is the prospect of change that makes him stubborn, as opposed to a real esthetic preference for bland brightness.

Now, off to the tub.

After a quick overnight in Saskatoon with Cathy last Thursday, I carried on to St. Albert and took the boys to their dad’s. There I was offered a supper of pizza and beer before driving out to Shelly’s, where I was met by barking dogs in the driveway and a smiling Shelly herself just inside the door.

The place is looking a bit different, what with the new garage up. Other than that, it was somewhat like going into a second home of my own. I’ve spent plenty of time there over the years, of course, but when we moved from Alberta Shelly lightened my load by hauling away several truckloads of my furniture and other belongings she and her family could make use of.

For instance, next to her driveway is the “destination” arbour I made (we took a willow workshop together one summer weekend; Shelly made an arbour too) and could not bring with me.

We spent part of the following day inside this mini-greenhouse, transplanting a tray of tomatoes. We wandered around her large yard, dug up half a dozen strawberry plants for me to relocate into my Saskatchewan berry patch, drank beer in the afternoon, walked down the road at dusk, watched TV in the evening while eating potato chips and dip, and generally talked our faces off. We talked about books, people, money, flowers, jobs, kids, scrapbooking, and vehicles. And that was just the first day.

I was due to arrive at Cathy’s on Sunday afternoon. She’d arranged a dinner party so that I’d have the opportunity to visit with several friends at once, and was in the kitchen when I got there. Her husband Darren gave me the tour of their new home. I told him I’d need a rope tied around my waist so that I wouldn’t get lost in it, and when we got back to the kitchen I apologized to Cathy for leaving her alone so long when I’d just gotten there!

By then Cathy had her part of the meal preparation done. The table was all set and Darren was left to make spanikopita for the Greek menu while Cathy and I went for a bike ride around the subdivisions with Janie as soon as she got there. A couple times it seemed a lung might burst, but I managed to almost keep up with the two athletes for the hour and a half before we wheeled back into the driveway. My legs just about collapsed when I dismounted, but those sweet young things hardly raised a sweat themselves.

It was a fine meal in good company, with pleasant conversation, wine, hugs all around, and happy chuckling. This was the first time I missed Scott intensely, because I would have liked him to be there to share the pleasure with me. By the time I left on Tuesday for a dentist appointment in Morinville (no cavities!), I had been spoiled by heartfelt discussion, long sleeps, great food, popcorn, a jacuzzi bath to take the kinks out, and dark chocolate. What’s not to love?

When I walked out of the dentist’s office and headed to my old home to visit with my favourite neighbour, it was snowing. We had a nice supper together with her husband, daughter, and two grandsons before I struck out cross-country to go back to Shelly’s for the night.

Edmonton and area got about six inches of the white stuff, and the roads were treacherous. I ended up staying at Shelly’s for two nights. Her husband Dale had surprised us all Easter morning by coming home from his camp job for the week, so I got to spend some time with him, too. He cooked my breakfast both mornings, which went some distance toward assuaging my concern that I might be overstaying my welcome. After all, when you wish someone would go away, you don’t treat her like a queen, do you? That’s what I told myself, anyway, whether it’s true or not.

Finally, a day later than planned, I toddled off toward Janie’s house in the city. She was recovering from a flu, and met me at the door looking pale as the overcast sky and wearing plaid pyjamas.

We started talking and didn’t stop till one in the morning after we both went to our separate beds. The only silences were short ones, when we had mouthfuls of sauerkraut and pork chop at suppertime. Our jaws got a wee bit of rest during the two-hour Apprentice finale on the tube, although Janie’s gums still had to do some flapping in order to apprise me of the backstory on all the contestants. She managed not to weep when her favourite did not win. Had there been money riding on the outcome, it might have been a different story.

The next day Gord brought the boys over and we all visited with Janie for a while before going our separate ways. The highway to Saskatoon was clear and dry, and Emil and Everett were, as usual, stellar travellers. They’d had a good time at their dad’s and were sorry to leave, as usual, but two minutes after we were in the van they were back to their usual high spirits and had lots to tell me about their holiday. They’d spent time with an aunt and uncles, made Easter cookies and decorated eggs with Gord’s girlfriend (I like her already), gone to a movie, and generally basked in the lives of little princes for seven days.

One last night in Saskatoon impinging on Cathy’s hospitality, and we were home.

It seems we have missed the major goose migration, although there are dozens more Vs flying over than there were when we left. I sat on the deck that first evening and listened to them settling in for the night at a slough just south of the farmyard. The frogs are aggressively vocal now, and Everett and I have spotted two new bird species outside the kitchen window: the pine siskin, and the magnolia warbler.

There are three or four newborn calves being babied in the barn, and in the pasture, fat cows look like their sides might explode at any moment. Yep, it’s good to be home.

Some time ago I bought a charm shaped like the eternal knot, or auspicious knot, as I think it's sometimes called. At the time, I had no idea what it was; I just thought it looked pretty. Recently I saw it on the cover of a Pema Chödrön book I have, and I was moved to investigate it. Turns out there are several possible meanings, but the one I like most is "wisdom plus compassion." Something I've been keeping in mind as the legal business between R. and me progresses.

Grant is once again with R. today, and it's raining out. Actually, a few minutes ago it was pouring. I spent the morning on the phone with friends who love me, and who help me pass the first couple of hours of Grant's absence most weekends. These are good people, and I'm so blessed to have them in my life. Today is a good day, though, not one of those sad days, despite the prolific rain. I'm driving up to see my sister in Pasadena and the two of us are going to hit IKEA to look for furniture for my boy's bedroom. It's really a work in progress, and I'm excited about developing it further. Later, we'll go out to eat or something, and I'll spend the night. Tomorrow I'll help her clean her house for a women's group she's hosting later on, and we'll go to a Quaker meeting. She's been attending Quaker meetings for the past few months, inspired by my uncle's Quaker involvement prior to his death last year. His memorial was "in the manner of Friends," and Sis found it quite moving. I've been curious about it ever since, and tomorrow will be a good opportunity to see for myself what it's all about.

Anyway, I think Kate is due back any moment now. It's been a pleasure once again filling in for her during her absence, and I truly appreciate her generosity, letting me say a few words in her space.

Until we meet again, I wish you these things: strength, compassion, the ability to own your imperfections, the willingness to try new things, and love.

Always love.

- Beth

Last night I stopped by the theater again to pick up some notes on props. I had my son with me — he refers to the theater as "Mommy's friend place!" I dig that. The folks there were getting ready for another full run-through, and although I'd already told the director I wouldn't be able to stay for the whole thing, I kept my son there through most of the first act so he could see what the fuss was all about. I'd been trying to explain to him what people do in live theater — "they stand on stage and say funny things and sort of tell a story" — but he was confused, since the only "shows" he knows about take place on television.

The show, Beau Jest, is about a young Jewish woman with a Gentile boyfriend, who hires an actor to play her made-up Jewish boyfriend when her parents come over for Seder and other Jewish meals/holidays. Her parents are keen for her to marry a Jew, and she's afraid to displease them, so she postpones the inevitable and ultimately falls in love with her hired actor.

The props I'm dealing with are mainly the dishes on the dining room table, which include a Seder setup. It's simple enough, yet I need to familiarize myself more with the whole setup so I can change it quickly...and in the dark. I've never done props before! Oh, no...I acted a little bit in college, and took a couple of acting classes. That's it.

This level of participation is good for me just now, since I'll have to show up only Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons during the show's four-week run, beginning April 23. It's the rehearsals I have to make more time for, really — a very important part!

When my son gets a little older, and after R. and I have our visitation arrangement a little more solidified (legal proceedings happening soon) I'd like to try my hand at acting again. Hmm...butterflies, about both the legal stuff and the prospect of acting again.

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Oh, about the anger management exercise my son and I did yesterday: I called R. and left a message, saying what we'd done and telling him I thought it was a really good thing. He never called me back, and today when he picked up our son for a three-hour lunch/play date, he didn't even look at me or speak to me — just greeted and scooped up the kid, and hustled down the stairs. Interesting.

Anyway, I should try to do something around here while my son's with his dad. The dog did indeed go with the rescue rep. today, so I have the house completely to myself for a while. It's too quiet, but maybe I'll run the vacuum cleaner, since neither of the two little creatures likes that very much.

- Beth

A little while ago, I picked up my son from his dad's house. My son seemed frustrated and angry, and continued to act out (off and on) for an hour afterward, hitting the dog and being generally willful. Finally I told him it was okay to be angry, but not okay to hit the dog...hey, why don't we go hit pillows!

So we got the pillows off the bed and hit them for about 20 minutes, repeating, "I'm so mad! I'm so frustrated! I'm so sad! I'm so darned mad!!" He was laughing a little as we did it, but he was really into it. We even went over and started hitting the bed with the pillows. After a while, Brody walked across one of our pillows on the floor, and my son said, "Hey! Don't walk across our pillows!" so I started hitting the pillows again and saying, "I'm so darned mad!" He asked me what I was mad about and actually asked me if I wanted "to talk about it." I said I was mad that Brody had walked across our pillow, and we hit the pillow a few more times, then he said, "Yes...I think so...but...I think we'll feel better soon."

And that was that.

I think this was a big moment for both of us.

- Beth

Last night I stopped by the local theater with my son, so I could meet the director of the show about to open April 23. I'd volunteered to help out, and was told they'd like help with props. I've never done props, but I'm sure I can learn.

Everyone there was amazingly nice and welcoming, and I was quite touched. They were also very nice to my son. I love to see people treat my kid well. :-) Their warmth and kindness reminded me that I still need that. I miss it, although I have some friends and aquaintances here — I guess I just need more of it.

My sweet boy was really well-behaved while we were there, and I was very proud of him. He amused himself by experimenting with the theater seats that flip up — I told him to be careful, as his chin was directly in the path of each seat as it swung into the closed position. No injuries, thank goodness. Later he noticed the masks painted on the walls of the theater, and asked about them: "How does that guy look? Does he look happy?" I think he thought the tragedy mask looked a little scary, as he didn't want to get too close to it. I don't blame him — it does look scary, especially when it covers half the wall!

Yesterday I'd wanted to take my boy for a haircut, but I got sidetracked by work and playing with the kid, and remembered I was supposed to visit the theater about 90 minutes before I was due there. Today we'll have to go and spruce the kid up — he's getting a tad shaggy, and I want to have his portrait done again. The last time we had professional photos done was October 2002; I think we're overdue! Luckily we've found a kiddie haircut place that gives each kid a basket of toys to sort through and play with during the haircut. They also show kid videos in the waiting area, and the stylists are very patient and kid-friendly. It worked out perfectly for us last time, so I'm expecting a good experience today, too. I love the way my boy looks after a haircut — so clean and sweet, with his neck and ears newly exposed and ready to nibble. :-)

- Beth

P.S. We still have the dog, since the rescue rep. called yesterday and said her usual kennels are booked up. Hmm. This is getting difficult...

So tomorrow Brody goes back to the rescue. I'm really going to miss him, despite his quirks, but I take some comfort in knowing that I did what I could — and then some — to help him. It just wasn't enough. I really hope the rescue group finds him a special home with a yard, another dog and a bunch of people. Brody deserves that.

- Beth

My boy's coming back today, and I'd told him the Easter Bunny would visit our house while he was at his dad's house. This means I need to pick up some Hershey's Kisses (one of the few candies he likes — "chocolate with a point on it"), and maybe a Hotwheels car or two. Something that fits in the little plastic eggs I have here. I don't think the kid will eat marshmallow chicks and the more typical Easter basket fare, but I'll find things to make the basket interesting.

God, I can't wait to squoosh that kid.

We spent some time on Friday evening decorating eggs, and he loved it so much I let him take all the eggs to his dad's house. I did make sure R. knew the eggs aren't edible, since they'd been left unrefrigerated for quite a while.

Hey, I'm a nice person.

- Beth

Today my son's dad is picking him up for the weekend. I asked that he bring him back tomorrow night at 6:00, but he never responded.

Anyway, I'm having to plan lots of things to fill my time when my son isn't here: housecleaning, freelance work, an Al-Anon meeting (because a friend suggested it would be a good way to get my life focus back), maybe looking for a more appropriate dog for me and my son.

Speaking of the dog, our current dog weighs about 100 pounds (literally) and has terrible separation anxiety, so he follows me all over the house. It's become pretty ridiculous. The dog follows me into the bathroom every time, and into the kitchen. If I get close to the front door, he'll jerk out of a sound sleep to stand on my heels, even if I'm just going to take out the trash. He's like "The Sidler" on "Seinfeld" — every time I turn around...he's right there. It was cute for a while. Now it's driving me crazy, but that's not the real problem, believe it or not. The real problem is that he barks and cries and scratches the place up in an effort to follow us when we leave the house, and he's desperately unhappy when we're gone. When we tried crating him, per the rescue group's recommendation, he broke his teeth bending the crate door to (successfully) get out. This is not good for many reasons. I need a dog with a more secure temperament, who likes to be with us, but also doesn't come unglued when we leave it at home.

Well, my son's dad is coming soon, and my son is right next to me in the bathtub (my computer is about four feet from the open bathroom door), so I'd better hustle him along. I've taken to waiting outside for R., rather than inviting him in. I just need that boundary right now, under the circumstances.

- Beth

So my son told me he'd buy me an SUV if I used the potty. A couple of days later he told me he'd have a party for me, with cake and candles and balloons, if I used the potty. I hardly need to point out that I'm not the one in need of potty incentives...or maybe I am.

People keep telling me my son will be pottytrained when he's ready, that he'll wake up one day and decide using the potty is worthwhile to him and he'll just do it, since we've spent so much time on the subject and he knows what to do. When is that day going to come??

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In other news, I went through a large number of R.'s old emails last night, looking for the ones pertinent to our current legal situation. Man, that was a gut-wrenching and draining exercise. I cried my eyeballs out, feeling once again like I'd somehow failed. I know intellectually I did everything I could have done to save that relationship, that the reason nothing worked was that he himself had not chosen to be a family with us, that sometimes one knocks oneself out and does all the "right" things...and it means nothing because the other person doesn't want what the first person wants. Oh, that's a hard lesson.

I'm very worried about making the same mistake twice — falling in love with someone who says all the right things, then doesn't follow through. I don't want to become one of those untrusting emotional invalids I've seen on the dating scene, but I also don't want to just hand over my trust to someone who hasn't earned it. Dilemma.

- Beth