Rainbow faeries come to me.
Dance upon my paper, please.
Bring to me you colors bright,
filled with warmth and love and light.
Dance upon my paper, please.
Bring to me you colors bright,
filled with warmth and love and light.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Painting with Reya
I just got the cranky toddler down for a nap (nice and early today). I set up paints for Reya at the table, envisioning a few moments of preoccupation for her, as I tackled the dishes and laundry that are waiting, no looming, around my home. I haven't cracked my math book once, and it is day three of the school term, but the children weren't sleeping well last night so I couldn't get any work done. Heading for the kitchen, I stopped at a small, sweet voice and turned to see her pure look of wanting me. "Paint with me, Mama", she said. I held my sigh, not wanting her to know my dilemma. "Of course I should paint with her", I thought. "That's how it is done." In a Waldorf school the children wouldn't be left to paint alone, yet here I am, a Waldorf teacher trying to prioritize housework and school work over my own child. "Yes", I said. Let me get some paper cut and wet for myself, and another tray." I sat down with Reya, and begin to sing our painting song- a ritual that I had nearly neglected. As yellow and blue flowed together and made green on my page, like the vivid springtime starting to emerge outside my window, I noticed the breath entering my body for the first time in this day. Maybe I needed it more than she did.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Ants and Rant
Hello blog. I really missed you. This school term has been so thick with essays that I just couldn't bring myself to type another word that wasn't required as per syllabi. Also, the event of a broken elbow made the usage of my right hand a real pain in the behind. Here I am again, with so much to write that I don't have fast enough fingers.
I will begin with the simple and mundane:
I just bit into a Chocolove dark chocolate with candied ginger bar that has been hiding in my purse for over a week, waiting for a secret moment of quiet and indulgence. Here I am alone at home, compiling my journal and samples for my fibre art class, in preparation for Tuesday's final review. I took out the wrapped piece of sweetness, deftly removed the wrapper and broke off a piece of chocolate without looking. Practiced fingers knew just what to do without hesitation or mistake. A moment later, my mouth was filled with ants. I looked down, they were scrambling down my arms as well. I will have you know that the very reason that I broke my elbow was in a crazed attempt to eradicate ants from my bathroom in high places where I had to climb precariously on the tub faucet and soap dish to reach (I'm short). I fell. The ants won. Yesterday I found them climbing up the towel rack, and all over our hanging bath towels. Dead skin cells for dinner? Now they are taking over my purse to find my sacred stash of hidden chocolate. I am outraged. I am moving. I don't know where or how soon I can make it happen, but it is without question. Read on and hear why, if the ants aren't enough.
Bell Real Estate is the crappiest property management company that I have ever dealt with. They don't care. When I ask them to fix something, they don't. They then charge me for the hourly rate that the maintenance person who "looks at", but doesn't fix the problem charges them. My basement was flooding the other night, and I called to inform the landlord that water was pouring in near a main pipe that goes up to my kitchen sink.
They made me sign a disclaimer when I moved in, that it was a "wet basement" and not for storage, so I was sure to let the guy on call know that I wasn't sure if it was coming from the pipe, or if it was just rain water coming from the hole around the pipe. When he offered to send the plumber out to check it out, I told him I didn't necessarily want that, because I was afraid of being charged, and was just wanting to notify them of a possible pipe leak that they should examine themselves before calling the plumber. They decided to send the plumber. He declared that it was indeed rain water pouring in at the rate of a gallon per minute. The landlord decided that this is something that they should not fix, because it is a "wet basement" of course. This is a little more extreme than I expected when signing the wet basement disclaimer. I was picturing dampness and mild leakage.
A few days later I got a $162.oo bill in the mail from the landlord, for the plumber who came out to check the situation. They did that when I asked for someone to unplug my repeatedly clogging toilet. They said it was my fault because they had to remove "hard stool". Never mind their admittance that the main sewage line is clogged with years of roots that they refuse to clean out because they don't want the cost. Hard stool? Who cares what the texture is? It's a toilet. It's for poop. My debt with them is growing, and I have to wade in the basement in rubber boots in order to do laundry. I must mention that this place has no weatherization and my current electric bills are running nearly $400 monthly. I am careful with my power usage, and this place is only 900 or so square feet. The windows are not sealed and cold air flows in, while warm air flows out. It's only slightly more efficient than heating a screened in porch. It just isn't right, and I am racking up bills that I can't pay, between the utilities and the charges for plumbing and other repair people. Renters seem unprotected by the laws, and I have no recourse. I don't know where I am moving or how I will afford to do so, but I have decided. I am giving a thirty day notice and bailing on this hell hole ASAP.
Enough ranting. More pleasant blogging soon to come!
I will begin with the simple and mundane:
I just bit into a Chocolove dark chocolate with candied ginger bar that has been hiding in my purse for over a week, waiting for a secret moment of quiet and indulgence. Here I am alone at home, compiling my journal and samples for my fibre art class, in preparation for Tuesday's final review. I took out the wrapped piece of sweetness, deftly removed the wrapper and broke off a piece of chocolate without looking. Practiced fingers knew just what to do without hesitation or mistake. A moment later, my mouth was filled with ants. I looked down, they were scrambling down my arms as well. I will have you know that the very reason that I broke my elbow was in a crazed attempt to eradicate ants from my bathroom in high places where I had to climb precariously on the tub faucet and soap dish to reach (I'm short). I fell. The ants won. Yesterday I found them climbing up the towel rack, and all over our hanging bath towels. Dead skin cells for dinner? Now they are taking over my purse to find my sacred stash of hidden chocolate. I am outraged. I am moving. I don't know where or how soon I can make it happen, but it is without question. Read on and hear why, if the ants aren't enough.
Bell Real Estate is the crappiest property management company that I have ever dealt with. They don't care. When I ask them to fix something, they don't. They then charge me for the hourly rate that the maintenance person who "looks at", but doesn't fix the problem charges them. My basement was flooding the other night, and I called to inform the landlord that water was pouring in near a main pipe that goes up to my kitchen sink.
They made me sign a disclaimer when I moved in, that it was a "wet basement" and not for storage, so I was sure to let the guy on call know that I wasn't sure if it was coming from the pipe, or if it was just rain water coming from the hole around the pipe. When he offered to send the plumber out to check it out, I told him I didn't necessarily want that, because I was afraid of being charged, and was just wanting to notify them of a possible pipe leak that they should examine themselves before calling the plumber. They decided to send the plumber. He declared that it was indeed rain water pouring in at the rate of a gallon per minute. The landlord decided that this is something that they should not fix, because it is a "wet basement" of course. This is a little more extreme than I expected when signing the wet basement disclaimer. I was picturing dampness and mild leakage.
A few days later I got a $162.oo bill in the mail from the landlord, for the plumber who came out to check the situation. They did that when I asked for someone to unplug my repeatedly clogging toilet. They said it was my fault because they had to remove "hard stool". Never mind their admittance that the main sewage line is clogged with years of roots that they refuse to clean out because they don't want the cost. Hard stool? Who cares what the texture is? It's a toilet. It's for poop. My debt with them is growing, and I have to wade in the basement in rubber boots in order to do laundry. I must mention that this place has no weatherization and my current electric bills are running nearly $400 monthly. I am careful with my power usage, and this place is only 900 or so square feet. The windows are not sealed and cold air flows in, while warm air flows out. It's only slightly more efficient than heating a screened in porch. It just isn't right, and I am racking up bills that I can't pay, between the utilities and the charges for plumbing and other repair people. Renters seem unprotected by the laws, and I have no recourse. I don't know where I am moving or how I will afford to do so, but I have decided. I am giving a thirty day notice and bailing on this hell hole ASAP.Enough ranting. More pleasant blogging soon to come!
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