Life as a traveling saleswoman is not my idea of what I planned do with 60 years of living and experience. How did I get to this? you ask. It seemed simple at the time but as too often is the case I jump in without testing the water. Not that testing was a possibility in this situation, nobody knew what this job would be like, we all (8) took it on faith that it would work out. And it does work out when it isn't 40C. I deflate in the heat, can't put together enough energy to move across a room, never mind across two counties. Should have known this of course, but as summer is so very short, I have a tendency to forget from year to year what is to be endured. The last three summers I've worked in an air conditioned cave (aka office without windows). Winter I never forget.

So there we are driving around, calling on employers and selling a project to them. Please sign this form, sir, madam and you will be listed in our database. All for a good cause, to support and encourage the young, be good corperate citizens and leaders in your community. What's not to like?

It's just me, having to use extrovert energy when I'm a dyed in the wool introvert. Can manage extro on occasion for brief bits of time, rather like the fight or flight response I suppose. But adrenalin is no longer available to this 60 year old, so steroids fill the gap and any extra energy takes a great deal of doing and sometimes more drugs besides. Ain't medical science wonderful? As long as I take little white pills every morning I don't much miss the adrenalin--except in unusual circumstances like having to pretend I'm okay with doing extrovert. I mean having to approach people I don't know and sell them a project or idea; whew now that's a stretch. Me, just give me a bag of fleece to spin or some sock yarn and 5 pointy sticks and I'm a happy camper. Just don't make me talk when I don't feel like it (as in anytime before 1pm). And heavens above, give me time, time, time to write that damn book that's chasing my butt.

The end of a job/contract, but perhaps not for that long. Everyone is very hopeful that I'll be back soon. There were tears, it's so nice to feel that people don't want you to leave and will miss you a great deal. Hey, I think they like me. That's plenty of motivation to work with these great folks again. The plan is that on the 26th we'll all go out for dinner together.

That said, I'm also glad to have a break, especially now that summer is coming and the weather is warmer. I can play in the garden, walk on the beach and spin and hang out with my spinning friends to my little heart's delight. I've been really looking forward to this. Don't know what I'll do for money, but that's not exactly news in my life.

So at the moment I'm having a gin collins to celebrate my last day. I have the rest of the carrot cake we had at the office at 4:30. I can too skip supper if I want to!

I've been told by several of my friends that I ought to prioritize my TO DO list because I'm sure to be working again soon. Okay, here are the current priorities: 1st, sleep; 2nd clean up and organize my house; 3rd (oh sigh it has to be 3rd) spin; 4th organize my office so I can begin my book project as of June 1st. If I start spinning for my vest project things will likely shift around a bit.

Then again, there's an election campaign on in Nova Scotia and I've promised my candidate I'd work in the office for him. Yeah, and where does that fit into the priority list? Gotta get some work done on organizing my house--not a minute to waste on that particular project!

Ah, vacation days, 3 of them in a row. I'm too lucky for words. Three weeks is what I need, at a minimum; three months would be even better. Oh yeah, I'm without a job in a few days so I'll have a long vacation. There is that. But other work looms and what I want is FREE time.

Took a tour to the sea, to a place called Blue Rocks, there wasn't much in the way of surf but a great many 'for sale' signs. Now that's a definite indicator of spring in this part of the world. All those hopeful souls attempting to make a nice lump of change on houses they bought last year and will attempt to unload to a 'come from away' at a hefty mark-up. The real estate book for May runs to 170 pages. Every other house seems to have a real estate company sign on it. Most property has increased in asking price from $50 to $100 grand in the last five years.

So what else did I do on this vacation day? I did an hour or so of spinning, another couple of hours of knitting. Read a book called The Minister's Daughter; had a 45 minute phone meeting with work folks; went to my favourite cafe to hang out for a bit, have cup of decaf and a nice rich biscuit. Did also scribble somewhat, but not seriously (yeah I know, I know!).

Tomorrow I need to stack some firewood on the porch, spin more wool, cook up some Sauce Bolognese, and do some of those nasty household chores which lie in wait for vacation days. That means I'll get up late, lounge around drinking tea until about noon, when it will be time to start supper, have brunch and check email. Oh, if inspired, I'll scribble in my journal....

On a reading marathon apparently. Reading the Amelia Peabody series by Elizabeth Peters, Fred Vargas and Margaret Doody. Non-fiction title this week is Culture-Infused Counseling, edited by Arthur & Collins and off the web and possibly off the wall as well, APA's Guidelines for Psychological Practice with Older Adults. The latter two titles had me researching Social Work degree programs at local universities and entertaining the thought of going to university in the fall. This is balanced by the desire, oh desire, where does that get you? of going to art school if I'm going to go to school.

Where does dreaming fit into this?--art school is a dream; it won't earn any money, it'll cost big bucks unless the school I'm interested in has a policy for 'seniors' wherein the fees are reduced or eliminated. Expected age when program completed: 64.

Now earning a Social Work BA is much more practical and certainly does interest me. It has the possibility of providing sufficient credentials to enable me to continue to earn an income; but that said I don't think I've canvased the options without a degree. Then there's the despicable fact that I enjoy studying; despicable in two ways, too often it costs serious money to study and secondly it doesn't make for easy conversation with one's friends when one is head over heels in love with some obscure subject matter and blathering endlessly about it. Expected age when program completed: 64.

Will you still love me, will you still need me, when I'm 64?

A Wednesday that feels like it ought to be Friday and damn there's no way I can make that happen.

Lovely long (four day) weekend coming up. Oh will I play! There's fleece to wash, pick or spin. There stuff to get ready so taxes can be done by the accountant (not play but must be done)--I'd rather pay someone than do that depressing task myself. Truly I don't want to know until it is time to sign something and fire it off electronically to the government. You know, like pulling the bandage off fast to get it over with.

Speaking of bandages, mine are gone, and if you can see the scar over my eye, you're in my personal space and need to back off. Came out of this last dance with a hard floor quite well all things considered.

Only a month left on my current contract and I am SO looking forward to having time to actually think complete thoughts. What's a complete thought look like? Oh, shit, I forget. Will probably have to excavate to find one and you know, that'll be so old. Oh yeah, I like that sort of thing, forgot that too. Working for a living interferes with life, thinking, playing and other life essentials which have long since drifted out of memory it is so long since I enjoyed them.

On the knitting needles: a top down sweater, which is knitting up at one helluva clip--I'm impressed. At least three socks on the go in different parts of my house. Ditto for books.

Today I'm very elegant with my wildly deep orchid purple eye. I wore a shirt to match the eye, thought I might as well go for a total fashion statement. I've been offered eye shadow in the same shade if I want to paint the other eyelid but this I've declined because to be effective I'd have to apply sparkles too and that might interfere with the safe healing of the wounded bit.

Wore my handspun vest for the first time today. Will go in search of buttons for it tomorrow. I'm still not up to moving except as absolutely necessary since my knee and toes are complaining much more vociferously of the indignities they endured yesterday; need to fetch firewood as the wood stove wants feeding again but that means leaving the comfort of my recliner.

Tonight the extent of my activity will be to pick wool, probably more of the Shetland fleece. The ram fleece is now dry and could be picked as well, but I think I'm going to let that sit for a while and focus on spinning the Shetland. I have the Cheviot to wash this weekend as well--want to wash what I have before the weather warms up and rains begin in earnest--it's so much easier to dry the fleece when there's a fire in the wood stove. It only takes about three days to dry a fleece when the woodstove is sucking all the moisture out of the air.

I won't run out of wool to spin anytime soon, and that's without considering yet what's available from this spring's shearings.

Apparently the Ides of March are late this year for I was betrayed by my own feet yet again. How is it that I get pitched forward into full face plant sprawl so readily? Is this a curse? Of what? Twice in six months I have done a major face plant that has pushed my specs into my head, first into my left temple and today into the space above my right eye. As one friend said, you had an altercation with a door and you had to slap it with your head. Yes, and with my glasses. Luckily the frames held up this time, but the lens blew out and cut me good enough to require a trip to emergency and the application of 'glue' to close the wound. First time I've ever been to the hospital to be 'glued' back together.

I resolve to consider Botox the next time I'm tempted to rearrange my face, as my son said, at least then you have control over what gets swollen.

The high drama is around my ever more purple eye lid and the blue egg on my forehead. No drama at all, only owwies, for the left elbow, knee and all the toes of that foot.

Okay there has to be symbolism here, curse and symbolism? Hmmm. Might as well theorize as it does as much good to numb my head as an ice pack.

Tomorrow I will wake to one open eye, seeing the world at some disadvantage, or not. Perhaps that will be fine. Is this what is meant seeing things at a 'slant'?

What does it mean when one falls into college through the front door on the way to a counselling skills course? Resigned now to wondering with only half my head....

Just past the Ides of March, the snowdrops have been in bloom for 10 days in Atlantic Canada and today brings sunshine and snow squalls.

The washed shetland fleece that hails orginally from Alberta is heading for the carder today and to the wheel perhaps this afternoon. The fleece arrived with a thick coat of prairie blow dirt--I'd forgotten how fine that could be all these years later living in the Maritimes out of reach of most prairie winds.

I dream as I sit at the spinning wheel, creating fine yarns and also I hope lengthening my days because this is so very meditative and relaxing.

The silver fiber from a huge ram fleece (9 lbs) that I began to spin last spring is now knit into a vest and a sweater, both nearly complete. These projects put aside while socks were knit for friends for Xmas. There's another fleece from the same ram on its way and that will be the last from this source since the ram's days are ended now.

Dreamin' of an electric Pat Green carder today...always dreamin' something!