Purging is Good

Clutter makes me fell claustrophobic. I don't know when it started but a while ago I noticed that my anxiety level is directly proportional to the of stacks of paper, piles of knick-knacks, clothes on the floor, abandoned dishes, plastic bags, electronic equipment, etc. that seem to accumulate around my house. I like organizing. I like having things put away. I know that I still have a lot of things to go through (old photos, letters, journals) and a lot of crap to get rid of but I am well on my way to major downsizing.

Somehow I convinced John to go through his clothes today when I was getting rid of some of mine. It was a hilarious battle for the most part. It mainly consisted of me repeating the phrase "but I have never seen you wear it" or "it has been in a box for almost a year and you haven't missed it" to which he would reply "but so-and-so gave it to me!" or "but I have had it since grade 8" or, my personal favorite "but it is my glow in the dark rat t-shirt! look, let me turn off the lights!'"

Indeed it was a glow in the dark rat t-shirt. Not sure how that was supposed to sway me from loathing the tattered thing but anyway. To his credit he did manage to part with several prized items such as his purple and green windbreaker (circa 1994) and climbing pants that looked like they walked right off electric avenue.


(John having one last cuddle with his banished clothing).

What is it about clothing and nostalgia? I had to keep reminding myself as I tried to tear the grease stained MEC windbreaker out of John's hands that I too have threads I am not willing to part with. A 'the smalls' hoodie that I bought when I was 15 during the "Waste and tragedy" tour, a couple of 'the george bushes' t-shirts that my old band made. Why does having this stuff collecting dust in my basement make me feel connected to parts of my past, or parts of my past self? Maybe it is because if we wanted to take that step back in time we can by throwing on something from our past. I could feel tough and edgy for a minute with my smalls hoodie, or cool 'cuz I used to have a band if I wore a bushes t-shirt out. But really I would just seem like Uncle Rico talking about what would have happened if coach had put me in for that last quarter of the game...Just sort of wistful and longing, missing something I can't put my finger on. Watching things come to an end and the world carrying on...



I have heard it said that clothing is the number one way that we communicate with the world. At first I thought that was an outrageous statement. But come to think of it, our politics, sports affiliations, musical influences, movie favorites, travels, socioeconomic status, and religious values can all be shown using the fabric we drape on our bodies.

So maybe that is why we cling to our 10 year old glow in the dark rat T-shirts and jerseys from high school volleyball teams. It represents who we were, where we were, and how we interfaced with our surroundings for that snapshot of time. Maybe we do need those dusty items to act as maps to our past for those times when we need to remember where we came from, and how we ended up here.

Revelstoke Christmas Whirlwind

Dec 22nd:

First we had some of John's employees come through on their way to AB. I lured them in with tagine (coincidentally) and John made lattes all around. Once they were fed and caffeinated they tried to leave but after a pow wow at the car with heavy flakes falling with the daylight around them, they came back in. And the beer came out. Soon James, Verena, and Marnie arrived and it was an insta-party.

Roasted veggie pasta, salad, and plum apple crumble were all hits. We ate and drank, played music, and I think I smoked a cigarette! It was a nice night to be warm with the falling snow and fiddle surrounding us.

Dec 23rd:

The gang moved on and John and I enjoyed brunch here at our place. I fired up some huevos with white beans, prosciutto, chipotle tortilla, and warm salsa. YUMM. Anna came over and it was a lazy morning. I think Anna will from now on be referred to as 'the Oracle' for she is wise, contemplative, and patient. She is teaching me how to ski also, which rules. Not sure how I roped her into that one...

That night another massive feast of chili and garlic bread at James and Verena's with a whole other gaggle of folks. We were all pretty knackered from skiing the fingers that day (and tired from digging around forever to find my lost ski in the alders--it was found by James by the by). Such sexy beasts, I couldn't leave one behind now could I??


So as usual when the bell tolled ten most of us were nodding off to sleep. I pulled John out of the Cozy Cabin by the loop on his man-pants and we made it home in the falling fresh snow.

Dec 24th

Decided to check out RMR and found out that HOLY SHIT WE HAVE A SKI HILL IN THIS TOWN!

Yuppers. It is quite the thing to behold. I could ramble on, quoting how much vertical, how many acres of terrain, how fast the gondola goes, how much powder we get here. But really what I ought to just do is say "wow". I am impressed, stoked. I can't believe we have a ski resort in this town, that I live here, and that this playground is in my back yard.

After a few runs I came into town to brave the crowds and buy all the last minute things for dinner at O & L's. At the liquor store there was a group of guys wearing these shoes


with these hairstyles



Arghghg!....gak!

I have to say I saw it coming though when I saw two pairs of these get out of a land rover to buy coffee's at the Modern last week.


Those boots are part of the reason I left Whistler two years ago! Sigh. Another example of how a ski resort can ruin a town I suppose.

But the upside is


Dec 25th

So that is me working off the giant Christmas eve meal at Luc and Oracle's the night before. Luc managed to pull off a massive, succulent turkey complete with stuffing We gorged ourselves on the turkey as well as salads, veggies, crumble, venison kebabs, tortierre, soup, appy's, beer, sparkling wine, chocolate...At one point after shoveling off our garage roof John declared he was "man tired" which provided much entertainment and discussion during dinner as to how being 'man tired' compared to 'woman tired'...

Anna giving me some style points,and basic how-not-to-tear-your-acl points. I need all the help I can get!



That night we again filled our bellies with goodness at Rob and Sylvia's. John made impressive lego feats with Carlos while I helped Sylvia with the roast crusted in herbed horseradish, roasted fennel, carrots, new potatoes, wine gravy, yorkshire puddings, salad, and apple cake. We learned that gravy and caramel sauce are easily confused which resulted in John's roast wearing a sweet coating of caramel. Whoops.

I had to lie flat after desert as I am pretty sure I OD'd on caramel sauce resulting in a blood sugar of about 45 for a while. Anna (Oracle), Luc, Harry, Mandy, and Steve all stopped by later and saved us from ourselves before we ate even more leftovers.

Phew!

And so. Today John and I slept waaaaaayyyy in, took a walk, rested our sore legs and glutes. I finished my book. John read the New Yorker. It was a lovely day.

I have to say that despite being away from my genetic family this Christmas, I was surrounded by my many members of my Revelstoke family. And life is about as good as it could get.

Everything turn turn turn...

A marker in time. Christmas.

When I was a kid I was allowed to sleep in the living room, next to the tree. I always loved falling asleep to the blinking lights and the sounds of cards and laughter coming through the glass door that separated our living room from the kitchen. Even now, sometimes when I can't sleep I try and imagine myself back in time feeling that sense of anticipation and security as Christmas danced on the horizon and family were every where I turned.

Last Christmas John and I were in Morocco and it was less than ideal, though we did try to make the best of it. It was cold at night and the Riad we were staying at had no central heating (which was the norm) so at night the owners would bring a smoking stove with virtually no ventilation into the common room where we'd oscillate between freezing outside breathing fresh air and smoke inhalation in the warm-ish common room. I was homesick and calling home made it no better, listening to my families enjoyment of their rented cabin in Fernie and freshies on the mountain each day.


(a photo booth near Todra Gorge where we were staying)

It reminded me of when I called my father on Boxing Day from the west coast of India in 1999. I felt a million miles away from everything and everyone standing there in the suffocating phone booth, sweating, rings of dirt around my neck. I was crying and he just said, "why the hell don't you come home then?". It makes me laugh now...you can't call your parents crying on the other side of the world and not expect them to say such a thing. But at the time it was as ludicrous a suggestion as "why the hell don't you join the Spice Girls and go on tour with them?"

I searched online for some way to get home from Morocco but of course it was Christmas and it would have been impossible to change flight and go home without losing my money on the return ticket and likely losing my boyfriend in the process.So I stayed and we spent a shivering, coughing, Christmas eating tagine and scrambled eggs with the chain smoking Czechs, the hilarious Germans, and the hospitable Moroccans.

So a year passed and it seems that life again had it's own plans for me this Christmas.

After successfully finishing a semester in Kelowna I was excited to return to Revelstoke to see friends and then be on my merry way to Red Deer to see my brothers, sister, nieces, nephews, brother-in-law, sisters-in-law, mother. It rarely happens that all four of us kids are in the same country at once.


I made smoky sweet potato soup, bought all kinds of organic veggies for a roasted winter vegetable pasta (with fresh pasta from the Italian deli in Kelowna). I had to make several trips to the car to pack the Petit Syrah, the Champagne, the food, the mandolin, clothes, ski gear, and camera.

Got about 50 km down the highway and after being tailgated by an asshole in an SUV on the black ice I decided to turn around.

Now I was trying to negotiate the black ice while sobbing and snotting all over my steering wheel. Okay enough with Christmas and crying I say!!! I unpacked all the food, the drinks, the instrument, the clothes, the books, etc. and put on my snow pants. Tobogganing in the alley with Carlos, Ruby, Polly, Nelson, and Sophie cheered me up.

And thus the Revy Christmas whirlwind began.

Winter Travel

And so it begins... The snow flies, ice forms, slush accumulates, grit scatters. Sigh. Another 5 months of scary roads ahead. When are they going to figure out that teleporting technology anyway??