I will have a couple photos of some of my art soon. I've been toying with two pieces for a while and I'm pretty happy with them, so probably before the end of the year one will be here (once I'm sure it's finished). I also need to take a photo of my magnet board (a rusty old sign) which turned out pretty good. So I guess that I'm taking photos of abstracts I'm painting.
The other day I learned something that I should have learned when I was fifteen: how to relax. This seems absurdly simple, and the method is just that: absurdly simple. It's almost magical with me, it's wonderful. It's called 3/5 breathing, and my family physician told me about it when she asked about emotional issues over the last year (she knows, of course). You breath in for three seconds, then breathe out for five. I do this three times a day, for about 7 or 8 cycles each time. I haven't had a situation yet where something irritated me, but the first time I do I'm trying this (if I remember). Just throughout the day it's marvellous. It works better than drugs. Everyone should do this, it's THAT good!
And I also finally put 2 and 2 together with my nieces. Over the last few months they have been talking to me about all kinds of things: things at school, things about their friends, what they do and talk about, all while we are playing with legos or playing Uno or something. I asked them once or twice if they had told their Mom or Dad some of the things they were telling me. "Oh No, Mommy would freak out and go nuts." And she might just at that. This is typical elementary school girl talk: about boys, about their interesting anatomical "part", about things boys do in the washroom with their interesting anatomical "part" and about what girl likes what boy and who has pulled their pants down and all that. Maybe it seems weird or extreme or too early to you, but when I was 8 years old I remember all this. When you turn 8 it's like a light comes on, and the world out there seems real and alive and all the people are so fascinating. So what I put together was that I am part of their In Crowd. I'm not just their Aunt, I'm certainly not just an adult, and maybe they don't see me as an adult. I'm privilege to all their girly gossip and thoughts. It's like I'm an 8 year old too. Okay so well maybe I ought to be, playing with legos
I was telling my friend Erica about this and she said they must really like me a whole lot more than just an Aunt to tell me all that stuff, and I think Erica was right, although I never have understood what they see in me, other than a play friend who happens to be an adult who happens to be their mother's sister. So I mentioned this to my sister tonight and told her I wouldn't tell her everything, since they are talking to me in confidence, but if anything strange comes up I'd let her know. She seemed immensely relieved. I think she worries about her children far too much, but then again, she's a Mom, and Moms worry about everything.
And while waiting to see my family physician something happened which has not happened in a long time, and I enjoyed it a whole lot. This "guy" sits down beside me and says "Hello Miss Sonja" and I'm thinking who are you, how do you know my name? As he then explained we apparently worked together. It was one of my university summer jobs. I was surprised that someone remembered me from that far back. I hadn't thought myself that memorable. And then and much to my relief he begins updating me on his life, not asking me questions (which I hate, and online it is different, I'm not actually talking to anyone here
). But I'm not really that interested, and he's obviously trying to impress me with all these events in his life, to which I am wholly indifferent. And gradually I remember things about him. He's your typical Narcissist: he's done nothing, but wants all the Egotistical Admiration from others thinking he's done everything and knows everyone worth knowing, and quite possibly knows everything worth knowing. I can spot people like this, even slightly like this, with ease, same with people who are remotely like me: they stick out like mismatched socks. I don't like these people but I do like being indifferent toward them. It upsets their world. Well, rather, it upsets their fantasy world when someone doesn't express suitable impression over all that is presumably them. And generally I'm not that easy to impress. So before his family physician was ready for him, he had given up trying to impress me and sat quietly more or less minding his own business. It felt so good.
Lastly, my eldest niece finally ended the mystery of where Kitties come from. It seemed pretty obvious to her: Kitaly.
This has been an awesome week.