SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Saturday, Mar. 12, 2011 @ 8:21 am
Creating



I wake up early, mind racing, wanting to get on with the day. So little time for myself; these weekend hours are precious.

Work consumes. Meetings about staffing, work loads, how to get it all done with the skeleton of an office. Near impossible to recruit qualified people to the north, especially to a town reported to be the crime capital of the province. In the paper, an article for engineering week: "In the north, technologist are worth their weight in gold." And they ask me to come down to the boardroom where, out of the blue, they offer me another two dollars per hour. It's blood money. Our clients have evolved from primarily first nations to an engulfing chasm of a corporate American mine.

At home, I am an explosion of creative energy. For all of the precision, ninety degree angles, and two millimeter text size that is my day job, by night, and by necessity, I create. A patchwork quilt top, a tailored cotton poplin dress, a needlepoint wall hanging. Healthy meals in cast iron cookware, whole grain baking, and pots and pots of really good black tea. And I read voraciously, while eating, while laying in bed, while petting the cats. I read about sewing and soap making. I read short fiction and graphic novels.

We ski too. We alternate nights: classic and skating. Strength and coordination and cardio. I wake up with a grumbling stomach, calories disappearing into kinetic energy.

What will the summer be like? Daniel has a really good chance of getting a job in Burns Lake. Two and a half hours west of here. Of course he could find something else in town, but it would be in the trades, and he would be miserable, and it would add nothing to his resume. I encourage him - he would be home by the time I would have dinner on the table on Friday night. He could drive back early on Monday mornings. I would take care of everything during the week - the cleaning, the groceries, the law mowing - and each weekend would be like a little holiday. It's only for 16 weeks.

I'm busy. I'm healthy. I'm happy.


Roots | Shoots