Insulation

Lately I've been wrapped inside my own thoughts, spending a lot of time watching the winter roll in from my large living room windows, staring at the snow on the leafless trees, chopping wood, working on this book thing that I for some reason thought was a good idea last month. This month, not so smooth, but I keep chipping away at it each day. Some days are easier, others feel forced and wasted, but in the end I think it will all add up to something that I did that was hard and that I stuck with; even if it just sits as a typed manuscript on my hard drive, read only by me, I will know that I wrote it, and that is what matters most at this point. And for some reason I like to finish things that are hard. And long. And arduous.

Speaking of this, have also been working on my applications to grad school. Yup. Handing one in tomorrow. Perhaps I should write "I like to finish things that are hard" on the mirror in my bathroom so that I can look upon these words when I am brushing my teeth, morning and night, fighting mental exhaustion. But it does ring true for me, so here goes.

Last Friday I went for my first ski tour of the season off the Duffey Lake Road with a friend. It was amazing. So amazing that we climbed this incredible mountain, Roar, skied almost all the way back to the valley, and then climbed back up for round two. So wonderful to be out in the mountain air, amidst the clouds and fog that made its way in and out of our vision, walking up a mountain on our own steady, then shaky legs. There's just nothing else like it.

Here's the one picture of me that day before my phone ran out of battery. Notice the mountain across the valley just barely visible in the fog.

Was at a "cookie exchange" the night before with some Lillooet friends. Spent three hours baking soft ginger cookies the night before the exchange, 8 dozen of them to be exact, to hand around at the party. Got six dozen other cookie varieties in return, but learned how ill-equipped my kitchen is for baking as I lined up the ingredients on my counter the night before, even though I had three weeks to prepare. I enjoy lots of things, but baking does not seem to be one of them. Wrote a three page detailed lament of the ordeal, in between taking out and putting cookies in the oven, that I used as a creative writing exercise with my older students: how to expand an hour of your life and write it with details, details, details. In the piece I document the two trips I made to my neighbour's house, once to borrow baking powder, and again to borrow an electric mixer and a bowl big enough to house enough dough for 100 cookies, among my own mental processes. Baking is like doing surgery for me. No distractions, no music, requires FULL and COMPLETE concentration, and even then I might burn something.

Driving into Lillooet that night I immediately noticed a house completely engulfed in flames high up on the ridge across town. It happened to be the neighbouring house (in a multi-acre, rural sense) to where our cookie exchange was happening. Apparently a propane tank exploded, and the owner of the house made it out with only the clothes on her back. Amazing how quickly one's life can change. I have often thought of the freedom I would gain by having all my possessions burn. Would I choose to live how I do now, or would I take off on some crazy adventure living out of a backpack for a while? Who knows. Who ever knows until it happens, and hopefully it never comes to this for any of us.

On Sunday I went for a great cross-country ski with a colleague who was in town to visit my school for some professional collaboration on Monday morning. Yes! We are working on connecting my grade 7 student with his grade 7s. Very productive day. I also learned (finally) how to use GarageBand, a program on Mac to record and create music. The applications of this as a learning tool are infinite. Very cool. Perhaps I will finally record some of the songs I have been tinkering away on in the isolation of my living room.

We did get a little lost on our ski though, and had to walk back to the car, 45 minutes uphill. No big deal at this time in the year, with food and water in my pack, but a good reminder of how vast this area is and how easy it is to get off track. I warned him that this might happen before we set out, as I have only been to the area where we skied on my mountain bike, where the trees are alight with leaves and the long grass of the trails is worn down, but we set out with adventure in our hearts and ended the trip still smiling. Did stumble upon a cabin that was completely restored, probably originally from the 20s or 30s. It even had an old radio in it, very basic structure. Simple. Clean. Beautiful. Maybe a place to shoot a film about life in Bralorne during this time period, when it was 7,000 community members strong. I'll have to find out whose place it is first, but that shouldn't be too difficult in a town of this size.

More wood chopping tomorrow, and then skating on the pond with Shirley. And skiing of all kinds over the weekend. What a good life I have. I was thinking this as I was driving down the hill from Bralorne today after taking the students skating on the outdoor rink for Thrill Thursday. We have also been doing a lot of cross-country skiing on our field for P.E. And building an entire Santa's village, and making another movie for the holiday season.

The most recent painting, as promised. It's the largest one I have done, about 4" by 4" square. Looks pretty nice hanging on my wall, if I do say so myself. Have another larger one that I am now working on. Who knows what it will be in the end, as I certainly don't. This seems to be how I create: step out of the way and hope that something interesting presents itself. Always learning how to get out of the way, as this can be the most difficult part for me as an artist.

And hanging on the wall...

Building myself quite a little life here, but it's nice to think of the future as well and all the possibility it holds. All the hope. Well, I should start gearing my hyperactive mind towards bed. Goodnight, good morning, good whatever stage of the day this may find you in.