Tuesday, March 20, 2012

transplanting the jasmine

Oh those roots with nowhere to go. Forgive the shrubbery metaphor; witness the state of things around here.

It's been so long since I held up my end of the conversation. How are you? I'm mostly well, if a little uncertain of the details.

Things I do know:

- I have a study. I've moved in to the second bedroom in the new house with my books, desk, red couch, violin, sewing machine, plants, yarn, cupwarmer, notebooks, ballpoints, and microscope. I've been sitting here in the mornings. For the first time in 2 years, I have a space of my own. (It does not have a mirror. Trying to write in a room with a mirror is like trying to swim laps with people drowning all around you.)

- The bike route from home to work is settled on, down to preferred sides of the street. Every morning that I barrel through the NAIT campus, groups of men in mechanic's coveralls turn and wonder what's happening. This is not Garneau, where girls on bikes in dresses and tights are pretty commonplace.

- Although the stress of moving is dissipating, I am left with an unsightly five pounds--the result of eating bread and jam three times a day. I am nudging it off, slowly. I am seriously considering joining Weight Watchers online. Does anyone have thoughts on WW, especially as related to developing a mindful, healthy relationship with food?

- I am frankly astonished by how much of my internal dialogue has been chock full of self-loathing. How poisonous. It's this song, all day, every day.

- Ladies and men, I am so glad to be back, you have no idea.


  1. Your jasmine is faring so much better than mine!

    It turns out I am a houseplant killer. I wish I could be better. I love the greenery. But I am forgetful and mindless and don't water them. My mother-in-law tells me to speak to them, that it helps. I think she's right, but I just can't seem to find a quiet moment to tell my ivy to just buck up and live.

    I suddenly feel a poem coming on.

    (And I am glad to see you post.)

  2. firstly, seedlings are glorious to watch grow... jasmine flowers make me happy. a room of one's own is a precious thing, and n. merchant is really onto something in that song - a consuming internal dialogue we all have at times. but Lizzy, really you are so beautiful, and uncanny and inspiring to me.


Speak your piece.