cloudy with a chance of funnels

so it seems to be tornado season in Saskatchewan. 
"really?"  you ask, "i didn't know there were tornados in saskatchewan"

me neither.

two weeks ago my daughter had a playdate with her best friend, and just as we were putting some finishing touches on the fathers day gluten free sticky buns (oh, yeah, you read that right) the phone rang.  it was the best friends mom.  here is how the conversation went down:

"hey janet, did you know that there's a tornado warning in effect"
"oh, no.  what does that mean exactly?"
"well....you should be in the basement"
at this moment i'm looking into the eyes of her beautiful little girl, and then into the eyes of my beautiful little girl and boy - they're all crowded around me, like they can sense the calamity about to befall them.
i say
"okay kids!  there's a tornado warning!"
"what mom!!! what does that mean?!!!"
"well...we should go down to the basement.  so let's just leasurely walk down..."
                 suddenly a horrendous B-O-O-M sounds as it thunders directly over our house (or, at least it felt that way).

pandamonium.  all three are screaming.  they're also laughing and looking around them with the widest eyes possible.  picture the look of hysteria.  one of them makes a bolt for the stairs, and then they're all running.  my daughter makes it halfway down and turns around.   she's now running upstairs to her room, then she's back down holding two dolls:
"NOT WITHOUT MY BABIES" she screams. 

"i should probably get off the phone now" i say.

i get the kids (and the babies) settled with mah-jong on my computor in the basement, then phone scott, thinking he was in a window-less room in the church and probably had no idea his life was in peril.  but, no.  he informed me that he had known all afternoon about the warning.

thanks. 
thanks for calling.

"no big deal" he says, "just keep looking out the windows and if you see some funny looking clouds go downstairs".

i look out the back window.  i look out the front window.  and i realize i don't have any windows on one side of the house!  and anyways, i'm supposed to be staying away from the windows!!!

half an hour later the storm had past.  but it's left me with this question - how is it that i left the threat of a possible earthquake in my lifetime and moved to the threat of a probable tornado in my lifetime?
i used to watch the news about florida and think, why would you live in a place where there are continual hurricanes?  are you friends in bc watching the news over the last few weeks and thinking the same about me? 


although i'm not a fan of tornados, i AM a fan of thunderstorms, and we're having a doozy tonight.  we turned off all the lights after supper,  watched the lightning,  got out the three new flashlights scott won at the men's golf tournament a few weeks ago, and read the storybook "blackout".  then the kids played hide and seek in the dark with scott until bedtime.  there's nothing like a self-inforced blackout.  you can still make yourself a cup of tea. :)

my show gets hung this weekend, and my opening night is next.  i have thirteen paintings crammed into my home - which will soon feel dismally empty once their gone.  it's like a dream that i'm actually having a show, in a gallery, where bonified artists have hung their work before me.  i'm excited and terrified and shy and exuberant all at the same time.  maybe that's why i've been so lazy lately - i'm too emotionally taxed for vacuuming.

and weary of peeking out my windows for funnel clouds.

leah came to visit me last weekend.  there's nothing for the spirits like an old friend, some good food (chocolate fondue, thai restaurant, and my camembert hashbrowns), conversation, prayer and the surprising joy of watching my new friends collide with my past.  each moment dripped with deliciousness.  and cori's coming out for my opening night so i'll have the chance to do it all again!  i'm feeling pretty spoiled.

may your skies be clear and your friends dear....and your blackouts self-induced.

prairie girl

i have passed a sacred prairie initiation, and am now one step closer to the title "prairie girl".  i'm not sure what other initiations i must go through, i'm sure they will be self-evident such as this one was...  but let's back up a bit shall we?
on friday i was in the shower, soaping up my back, when i noticed a new mole.  hmmm....i thought.  i was told to keep track of such anomalies.  so, i checked it out.  and it moved.
oh, yay.  you read right.  it MOVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

suddenly i had a flashback:  it was a cool summer evening last year.  i was with my family and some new saskatoonian friends up at Blackstrap lake.   our friends were staying for the weekend, and had invited us up for dinner.  we were just about to leave, feeling filled up with the beauty of nature, friendship and food.  i looked out over the lake, our kids were running along it's edge with  a beautiful frolicking dog.  one of the boys had a remote controlled boat zooming through the water beside them.  despite the descending mosquitos, the evening felt pretty perfect.   we started expressing our thank-yous and goodbyes, then someone says "make sure you check for ticks". 

"yah,  right."  i say.  funny prairie people thinking i'm going to swallow that one.

"no, we're serious.  you need to check.  everywhere.  and we mean, everywhere."

nervous giggle.
i scan the faces... they seem like they're trying to look serious and a little bit sympathetic, but i can also detect some smiles hiding in the corners of their mouths.  "sure," i say.

let me describe a tick to you.  it looks like a child's drawing of a bug.  it's round with legs shooting straight out in multiple directions - kind of like a sun.  my daughter (who ran into the bathroom to rescue me when she heard me yelling) calmly explained that she learned in her grade two health class that ticks can not be crushed - you have to flush them down the toilet.  "their shells are too hard mommy".  nice. 

they don't hurt, they don't leave a bite mark or even an itch.  but i had to pull the little sucker off me like a leech.  i just had to close my eyes and regroup for a second after writing that last sentence. 

so, with my brave girl encouraging me forward i caught the tick off the shower floor (where i had thrown it and immediately stepped out of the shower.  who needs to rinse?) and flushed it down the toilet.  then, i got into a pretty dress and some sparkly jewelery to try and mask the fact that i have no idea how long that thing was living on me and i feel disgusting and where the heck did i get it?  and i need to feel a little bit like a princess for just a moment so back off!! 

my daughter kindly assured me that the tick they found on someone in their class was MUCH bigger.
fantastic! 

miraculously enough, i still want to be a prairie girl.  in fact, i cried today at the thought of ever leaving.  i love you Saskatoon, ticks and all.

tonight

right now i can see a fat fat robin outside my front window, popping along with a juicy worm in his beak.  i think i might have chased the same one away from my one and only red strawberry on my one and only strawberry plant today.  too late however.  that worm will now join my strawberry in robin gullet gore. 
thankfully, strawberries are on sale at my local sobeys. who can complain?  come on over fat robin, enjoy yourself.

it is now the month of June, which means the month of May, with it's many scribbles and lists and arrows and exclamation marks, has been replaced by this blissfully sparse calender month.  no, not empty.  there is something large at the bottom, looming and beckoning at the same time:  my show. 

i've been thinking alot this week about how crazy it is that i am an artist.  i haven't really let myself hold the title until recently, but i think it's okay to say now.  i think there's enough sales under my belt, enough paintings with my signature elsewhere in the world.  how is it that i get paid to move colour around cloth?  it's so....excessive.  so unnecessary.  and yet, so fundamental and essential as well.  i actually get to create something, to transform the ordinary into (hopefully) extraordinary, and in the process i can, at the best of moments, encourage, enlighten, enchant another.  was art created for this purpose?  to speak to a deep part in another that responds to this communication alone?   and if it were taken away, truly, completely...could one survive a life bereft of any beauty?  would this be hell?

but, philosophising aside, it remains colour on cloth, and blows my mind that it is my profession.
true, there are many times, such as now, when my back aches for relief and my arm threatens tendinitis, and i doubt that my eyes can see colour any longer - when this artistry feels very much like work.  but after the suffering, if i'm really lucky, i have this moment of surprise:
 'did i just do that?'.

when i really boil it down, this art in me is sheer
                                                                           
                                                                                gift.

tonight my little girl of eight told me that she let her crush know that he is, indeed, her crush.  i asked "what did you say" and she answered "i told him a liked him." and i asked "how?" and she said "i whispered it in his ear".  and then she gave this delightful little giggle, and my heart flipped. 

it is a beautiful world tonight, of fat robins and artistic endeavor and a giggly bright-eyed girl.