Category Archives: Writing

Morning list of random stuff

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Fun, Life, Travel, Writing by

Here’s a quickie posting and hello.

Two things I ought to mention:

 1) I really adore the cucumber that hangs outside my bedroom window. I sleep in a basement room, and the plant hangs down into my ‘dug out’ window. This is the loveliest cucumber, and I regret that it’ll soon have to be picked. But what can I do? Use it or lose it.  Well . . .  lose it either way, I suppose, but eat it as a bonus. Feels so savage.

2) Tonight I’m off to Ashbury College to attend a Q & A plus signing with Chef Michael Smith. He’s just released a new cookbook called Chef Michael Smith’s Kitchen. This book is meant to contain 100 of his favourite recipes, which makes me wonder what his other books contain, and whether he’s allowed to do repeat performances of meal ideas. Can this be the ‘greatest hits’ of Michael Smith, and are these really his favourite recipes, and if so – why? And why weren’t they included before?

It’s like a mystery to unpick. But mostly I’m looking forward to sampling the appetizers and listening to this very tall man speak. He says that food is about creating stories. So I’m hoping he’s got some great stories to tell, considering all the food he makes.

I’m excited for tonight. Super cool! Plus it will be my first review for the Ottawa Writers Festival pre-festival line-up. Awesome.

And a few things I’ll ramble on about:

3) I have started taking my vitamins again. It’s this weird personal battle with me – what to do, don’t want to do anything, hate to acknowledge there was ever a problem, and mostly I just want to move on. But I’m part of a large community of women who have fought through cancer one way or another, and when I hear about someone’s reoccurrence it’s so sad (horrible) for them, and completely unnerving for me. This is not the reminder I want, yet it happens, and it says: ‘Keep going Catherine, you lazy butt . Keep fighting this!’ But nevertheless, it happens and then shocks me out the treatment depression. Treatment depression. Sorta like  no-job depression, or not-yet-finished-writing-this-damn-book depression. I have the horrible tendency to do nothing when things fall into a slump. And it takes a lot of effort (or a wake up) to get me moving that ambition once again.  It also takes a lot of effort to be in the slump – cause mentally no one likes to feel stagnant. Horrible stuff. So starting with little things like taking my vitamins and signing up for the local yoga class and visiting  Awakeing Potentials for a session . . . slowly I’m making things better, to become better. I really like better. Or ever more – awesome. I love awesome. And the steps make me feel proactive. Being proactive gives me hope in all areas of life.

4) I’ve started eating scrambled eggs. Free range, preferably vegetable grain fed. For some reason I can suddenly stomach the cooked up puffs of yellow. All other eggs are still not welcome, but scrambled I can handle. It’s a good change.

5) Next week Zsolt and I should be going to Tremblant for a little autumn revelling and family-time. Plus, I’m bringing my laptop and feel intent on locking myself away until this next chapter is finished being forged. Maybe we’ll find a canoe and take to the water?

And this, ladies and gentlemen, has been the ‘I just got up and have all these things on my mind’ list. Brought to you by English Breakfast tea and dried cranberries, which I’ve already finished eating.

Have yourself a wonderful day. I think the weather in Ottawa is outstanding. Ten points to Ontario for having a lovely climate this late into September. Bonus points promised if it lasts into October.

Hopped up on Ukrainian rock

Posted in Articles, Writing by

Suddenly I’m busy. Today I woke up with xyz on my plate, tonight I’m going to bed with acb, lmn, qrs, and tuv – not to mention the original xyz.  Okay, I overestimate the influx of work – but it’s nevertheless influxing all over my life and I think that’s 100% awesome.

Maybe you know, maybe you don’t, but I’d love to make a living as a writer. Fiction is my heart, blogging is my voice, and type-type-typing is my tool. Why wouldn’t I want to be a successful writer? (Hmmm, or librarian, cause libraries are another great love . . . or both, most ideal and balanced.) Plus, if Zsolt and I are ever going to achieve the ‘international living’ dream between Canada in the autumn and Balaton in the Spring, then a mobile career seems best.

Anyhow, ever since arriving in Ottawa I’ve tried to get things going. Narrative Nipple is shaping up, just need to link the site to the URL, and my blogging is expanding away from Cancer – which is awesome by the way, plus I’m taking a course on freelance writing and this morning I wrote 600 words of my next story. But don’t be fooled by that stupidly low word count; it’s about easing into the story (particularly cause I have no idea on what will happen, who the characters are, what the vibe is like .  . . instead I just write my way in.).

So today I am in a good mood, though slightly overwhelmed as my google calendar begins to fill with obligations, shows, meetings and other cool stuff.

Busy – which is how it should be. Next up on the agenda: Actually earning money.

But you know what, I cannot forget my purpose here – it’s like, essential.  So, today I’ll call the office and book a couple appointments with my mother. It’s time to work through some issues, particularly since  I want all incoming awesomeness to grow and bloom. Panic attacks like the other day are counterproductive. Fear and complacency with ‘what might happen’ are equally unacceptable.

It’s a lesson that needs constant knocking into my brain.

Anyhow – deep breath – here I go.

*Want to hear the crazy music I was listening to while writing this post (accidentally had it repeating and didn’t realize till I was done writing) – check out the music video here: http://www.ukrainia.org/

Bittersweet realities

Posted in Canada, Finding Home, Life, Writing by

I’m sitting at my desk in the basement of my parents house. Around me are piles of boxes, and piles of  . . . of, well let’s call it stuff. Some of it looks useful, other bits feel random. Why did I ship the thermal socks with holes in the toes? Can’t really say why, except that it felt right at the time.

Happy labour day weekend to you. The leaves are starting to crunch and children are about to shuffle off to school. Tomorrow I have an appointment with my long-time GP to renew the Tamoxifen subscription. It kinda gives me butterflies.

You see, coming home I had – in a sense – wanted to forget all about the cancer. But tomorrow I have an appointment with my GP, and at the end of this month I meet with my oncologist for a little catch up and review. It seems no matter how far I travel the presence of this situation refuses to fade away. However, the tree outside our house is reassuring with it’s whishy, windy leaf-blown sounds . . . my family is near-by (though Dan’s about to take off to BC for three weeks – wish him luck as he treks through the mountains) and it’s nice to see them, Zsolt is cuddly as always . . . and I think, I think in a matter of days (like later in the week, maybe Friday)  . . . the unpacking and the arranging will all settle down and I’ll be able to just write.

Write and work on Narrative Nipple. And meet with friends? That’d be lovely too.

So my point? My point is that despite the never-ending reality of ‘checking up on the fucking cancer to make sure it’s gone, dead, and over’  . . . it’s good to be home.

Very good to be home.