May 9, 2008

Ancient Forest - rare interior rain forest about 90 minute drive from my town

Today someone reminded me that my wedding anniversary is coming up.

On May 9, 1970, Doug and I married.  I was 19, soon to turn 20.  We have been together ever since, through thick and thin.  And yes, there has been plenty of both.

On May 9, 2008, I had three stents installed.  When the doctors found out it was our wedding anniversary, they wished us well and told Doug he now had a 'brand new wife'. 

Well, not quite.  Instead of returning to full health, I started a journey of adverse drug effects and instead of a life where I could easily continue what I had been doing I felt like I was bumping along the bottom of the barrel, making some progress at times, not, at the others.

And yet, and yet.  Here I am, this much older, still here, still putting one foot in front of the other - as much as I am able, on any given day.  So many others have transitioned on to whatever comes next, if anything does.

As my activity horizons have shrunk over the years, I have had to come to grips with not being able to weave the way I was used to, think the way I was used to. 

For the two years prior to the stents, I had been feeling as though the sand was running out of my allotted hour glass of life.  Since the stents I've dealt with cancer and more cardiac.  Facebook co-operatively reminds me of my 'memories' of the time I recuperated from the broken ankle, the chemotherapy, the various and sundry drug adverse effects, by-pass surgery, and now once again the cancer journey.

My well of energy seems to be running dry.  I look at all my stash - the dreams I had when I bought all that stuff.  I mourn my loss of energy and desire to jump into the studio and toss a shuttle.

Yes, I do still want to weave - I just find it harder and harder to weave like I used to.

Right now all my energy is pretty much being spent on the conference.  (Getting sick with a nasty cold didn't help!)  We are five weeks away from welcoming fibre artists from western Canada and the Pacific northwest (and beyond) to Prince George.  I want them all to have a good experience and enjoy their time here.  I spend about two hours a day working on the conference and try to get at least a little time at the loom as well.  (And no, I'm not the only one working on the conference - my blog, my stories).

But my goal of 'semi' retirement is looking less and less workable.  The rent on the annex has gone up to a point where my semi-retired income is not going to cover the rent for long, so the steam press needs to go away and the rest of the stuff stored there needs to be moved out so that I can stop that monthly expense.

Dealing with that is an 'after the conference is over' job. 

Bottom line?  I am still here.  I can still weave.  I do still want to teach (some).  I'm not done with this life - yet.

We went out for dinner last night.  That may be as much 'celebrating' we do as a nod to the date coming up.  With my traveling to teach so much, all special events have been declared movable feasts. 

I am considering the conference one giant celebration of life as well as fibre arts.  If it's a party, I want it to be a great one.  Many of the people attending are friends, some of them virtually, some of them in real life. 

It's gonna be a time (as they say in Newfoundland).