Like Ivory – Olivia Bee – Flickr Evidently, April has been designated the month to celebrate poetry. I shall pretend that April began today, and will post a poem each day until May. Because it is Spring, and creativity is bubbling up like a nearly defrosted brook. Haiku for Wednesday, April 8th Sister of the rainA flood wells up from the caveNow truth garden stirs

I thought about something for a good portion of the weekend, most of yesterday, and then again today. As is so often the case in Schnooville, this thought permeated my brain and trickled out into the real world, where a fabulous singer performed a song she had written on this exact topic at a fund raising event that I attended last night. I’m pretty sure she was singing it for me. I am irresistibly, undeniably drawn to brilliant, talented men who are almost always completely emotionally unavailable. Like a determined primate, I get my hands on these coconuts and poke…

My mom is one of twelve children. French Canadian Catholic. All of her brothers and sisters are quite close in age, and all remained fairly geographically close. I grew up with a giant tangle of cousins and other relations at each major holiday, which was always a huge celebration filled with food and music. My grandfather was an alcoholic. I never met him. He died long before I was even imagined, which is another story I hope to be able to share with you one day. As a result, many of his personal demons were passed along to the next…

I think, actually I’m pretty positive, that it was almost exactly one year ago that I ended a four year relationship. I stayed at our home for a couple of weeks, which is completely inadvisable, and shortly thereafter, which is EXACTLY one year ago today, I moved out. I left my old life, my home, and my dog behind and put everything I own into storage, moved into the basement of my friends’ house, and slept for almost a month on an air mattress. Then I moved (during the TTC strike) the air mattress and my suitcase to my cousin’s…

Tonight I am cooking a romantic dinner for two that has absolutely nothing to do with my dog. It’s not just dinner. It’s a romantic dinner. For two. It has been approximately one year and two months since I last did that. In the meanwhile, I’ve cooked romantic dinners for friends, romantic dinners for families, and just plain dinners for two sans romance. Tonight is romantic. And I’m cooking. For those of you who don’t understand the significance of this, you must note that I was born with an over-developed nurturing bone. The easiest and clearest way I know how…