The Lettuce Episode
So this lettuce incident happened the other day. It was a calamity of errors so to speak. You see when I left the house that day I was confident i had placed it far enough back on the counter that my vegetable seekers would not be able to reach it. .
What I didn’t realize is that they would have the foresight to employ the services of a vegetable hit man - Sir Finneus, the Irish Wolfhound.
So when I got home, there it was, the romaine lettuce I was to have for supper, strewn all over the kitchen floor. Princess Ayva shamelessly feasting on the greenery right in front of me. No guilt. No shame.
And Finn staring down in awe of her brazen zero fucks given.
Fear and Sharing
“ARTISTS ARE PEOPLE DRIVEN BY THE TENSION BETWEEN THE DESIRE TO COMMUNICATE, AND THE DESIRE TO HIDE”
- D.W. Winnicot
I read this quote the other day posted by @Shamoftheperfect on Instagram. It resonated with me, a lot. So much so that I took a screen shot so I could remember the words, and am writing this self exposing babble to you now.
It is true. The drive to create and share my work, both inspires and terrifies me. And given any opportunity, in my reclusive creative frenzies, I am content to hide myself away in the editing cave, writing stories and editing photos for days on end. At times quite happy never to reveal my creative treasures.
Releasing my photos and writings is often filled with, pride, excitement, riddled with the underlying need for external gratification, yet at the same time burdened with conflicted and a good healthy dose of fear and self doubt.
Its exhausting really, an ongoing battle for me at all times. Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but it is true, and one of the main reasons that I withhold sharing a lot my work.
Did you know I used to sing? Yup, I sure as hell did. My dad is a musician. My childhood is filled with memories of him singing, around the campfire, guitar in hand. He has played in bands and at jam sessions my whole life, and at the ripe age of 75 -god bless- he is still at it.
I grew up watching him on stage, and listening to late night basement practices. The deep vibration of him plucking the strings on his base guitar. Drums and symbols banging, and the ear piercing screech of microphone feed back. I would sing with him around campfires, at weddings, and small town dances.
And then one day I decided I wasn’t good enough. I would pick myself apart, and developed such raging anxiety for public performing that I quit altogether. That was it, my singing days were over.
Why did this happen? Why the self doubt? Why the fear? Where did this come from? Why do I care about being good enough, or what others think of me? Who gives an actual fuck about any of it? And most importantly why do I? I’m still working through some of these deep seeded questions.
It should be about sharing your talents. It should be about just doing what you love. What inspires you, and makes your heart full. What drives you in living your purpose and passions.
I am trying to resolve some of my regard for these give a fuck moments. The ones that hold you back from “doing you.”
I’m sure there will be Many instances of anxiety, neurosis, and mania, followed up with a healthy serving of humiliation. . But I am going to do my damndest to overcome all that. I mean, after half a century it is the least I can do for myself. It’s a constant battle this self doubt thing. But I do believe that life is about growing and becoming the best version of you. And that never comes without some some growing pains.
I am - joyful, grateful, loyal, adventurous, passionate, inspired, and creative. These are just some of the words that come to mind.
Not once when I searched for my words did I think of fearful. The soul is wiser than the head.
And so I shall forge ahead into this decade transition year with some new go to words.
Grateful & Fearless -
“The universe is for me, and so is everything else” - Adriene Mishler
Thanks for listening xx td
In light of the blog topic today, here is a liquid courage recipe.
Kick ass Dirty Martini -
The perfect ratio’s compliments of my good friend Nathan Grund.
In a shaker add -
3oz. Good Gin - Beefeater is good
1/2 oz. of dry Vermouth
Full cap or just under 1/2 oz of olive juice (from the jar)
Pour over ice & shake the shit out of it.
Pour into martini glass
Garnish with 3 Greek mammoth pimento stuffed olives (my fav) you can garnish how you’d like.
Drink immediately while it’s cold but not too fast or you will be smashed.
It’s a fine line I have yet to master.. but how hard am I really trying?
The Incident
I don’t really know where to start in this story of mishap. Depending on who you are, your level of disturbed will vary.
And I’m sorry for that.
This day began like any other, coffee, news, yoga, post yoga smoothy.. you get the drift, then off to a couple of photo sessions. Perfect really. A day like any other. Funny how the Universe unsuspectingly sends a shit storm for no other reason than to amuse itself at your expense.
Over the lunch hour I ran into Safeway with the intention of grabbing a quick bite on the go (you don’t need to know all this but I like to share) I go through check out and decide I have to pee. Like really have to pee. Best do that before I’m off to the next photo session, right?
Ladies bathroom is taken. I’m waiting, and I’m waiting, the sounds of repeated helpings off of toilet paper roll are echoing from behind the closed door and I’m thinking, do I even want to venture into that room after this women has completed whatever the hell she is doing in there? I mean it’s been a bit too long for it to be deemed oxygen friendly. So I go in the mens, its a one room show which is awesome really. This way you don’t have to worry about other “patrons” of the opposite sex venturing in.
I set my phone and wallet on a somewhat safe ledge and turn around abruptly to put the seat down and that’s when it happened, my keys, lock remote and all, slow motion it seems, are tumbling into the air! I’m watching in disgust and horror trying to strategically time catching them before they take the plunge, but nope, no stealth moves or quick saves are in the cards this day..
Ploop - straight down into the toilet.
And there they lay. True story
What - the actual- Fuck ..
Pretty sure you can imagine some other choice words coming out of my mouth. All interjected by the word, you guessed it, fuck.
Well what choice did I have? With lightening quick speed that would have served me better while the keys were in mid-flight, I plunged my hand into the icy depths of this very public male dominated toilet,, and grabbed my keys.
Big nasal belly breaths - big nasal belly breaths- I need to calm and oxygenate my brain, I realized I had been holding my breath. Like that’s gonna solve anything while plunging my hand into a filthy pube ridden toilet.
I could not scramble to the sink fast enough to start scrubbing my E.coli tainted appendages. My hand, my arm and yes, my keys. I wanted to vomit. But instead I started to laugh. For real? I mean who fucking does this? How does this happen? Why? why? why!?
I think I peed at some point, I can’t remember. I believe I was in shock.
There was a gentleman waiting for his turn in the ‘mens’ washroom when I exited this water closet of hell. The look on his face was pretty entertaining, and on any other day there would have been some fucks given on my behalf, at being busted coming out of the mens washroom.. But not this day.. nope. Not this time. The recent key trauma was just too great.
I might have a mild form of PTS. This trauma is very recent and I haven’t been formally diagnosed. As I write this account of my horrific fumble I feel anger, confusion, chills, a compulsive gag reflex and some denial. Pretty sure a night with my “wine group” will make all things right with the world again. Pray for me.
Well played universe, Well played.
xo
TD
The 50'ith
Well Ma & Pa’s 50th wedding anniversary has just passed. There was a small gathering with some close family and friends. Some last minute rushing and planning. Some lack of organization, communication, and at times assistance; Marinated in a good dose of anxiety, all neatly wrapped up in a large loaded soft tortilla of love, appreciation, and nostalgia. I’m hungry can you tell?
All in all I escaped unscathed with most of my sanity and pride in tact.
Ah, this funny guy can still make her laugh
Adorable
My parents are pretty great. First of all I thank the lord, my lucky stars, and a few angels every day for still having the both of them around. They are fun and full of life and I can’t imagine not being able to share all the good stuff with them.
Vacation selfies out on the ocean low tide, Parksvillle British Columbia
Dennis and Val were high school sweethearts. Cool hey? (Is it still cool to say cool?) And the fact that they are still together probably makes them eligible for some kind of “defying all the odds” certificate of merit.
Grad 1964/65
what a good lookin' pair
They are fantastic role models and I admire their commitment to family, and each other.
The stories these hands could tell..
This celebration of defying all odds A.K.A 50th wedding anniversary, was held here in Saskatchewan. Both of my parents were born and raised right here, but in recent years have migrated to a little community in B.C. With the distance they needed to travel, and their presence somewhat required.. this party could not, and was not, a surprise.
Campers at heart, I arranged the weekend at a small regional park/campground in a little hall on the golf course out there. We gathered, we camped, we ate, and we drank… Its the way we roll here with summer in the Sask.
Some very close friends of ma & pa's travelled all the way from Iowa and surprised the hell out of them. Of course I knew they were going to be making the cross country trek, but the utter shock and joy of this little surprise for them was one of my favourite parts. The smiles and laughter lasted the whole night, I'd have to say, it was worth every minute of fuss.
So here is a kick ass moment alert! My dad is a musician, and he doesn't go far without his guitar. - Hey, that rhymed - So no surprise, he took stage and started jamming with old band buddy Gerald. Old referring to the band.. and not those two crazy coconuts ;) It would not have been the same with out them busting out their talents.
Both my boys and Holly (my daughter in law to be;) were there - As most parents with grown kids can attest too it’s not very often the whole clan is together in one place. Big heart sigh!
Aunts, Uncles, cherished old friends, and even some of the original bridal party, all came to help party the day away.
On a side note, that end of the night shit got real as nephew Jayce broke out the clothes pins. Despite what you see here, I assure you - No children were harmed in the clean up of this hall...
Saluti
TD
Dennis + Val, sittin' in a tree, K-i-s-s-i-n-g