The gift

This morning at work, after I filled up my favorite neon-green mug covered in pink flowers with fresh filtered water, sat down in my computer chair, and opened up the big picture window behind me to let in the cold, rain-spiced morning air, I was surprised to see an old friend of mine show up at the door, enter the room, and pull up a chair beside me. Her name is Gratefulness, my mom introduced me to her when I was a kid, and we have kept in contact for years now! I'm a little bad with remembering to invite her over, but like a true friend, she just shows up from time to time...I love it.

She and I always have such wonderful conversations. This morning we are catching up on the past few years, laughing about a few things that went wrong, fondly remembering people that have come and gone, babies that have been born, you know, all that good stuff. I love talking shop with her - she has this way of reminding me that my life is good, that there are people who love me, and that God has blessed me in so many ways, both big and small.

She encouraged me this morning to make the most of what I have...to play my piano...use my art room more often....take beautiful pictures and document the moments that mean something to me...read the books piled up on my bedstand that I've neglected for weeks...walk through the cherry blossoms on Gravely street to a produce stand on the Drive and pick out a perfect apple, or mango, or turnip....to be satisfied staying home tonight preparing a fresh meal for Chris and me to eat together...to thoroughly enjoy today, just because its here. She is wise, and her advice is sound.

Somehow, after every conversation we have, I can breathe easier. I stop worrying about what I lack, I stop trying to pass everybody ahead of me in the race, and I even stop running for heaven's sake. She reminds me of God's standing invitation to the lovely picnic under the willow tree by the still waters, just beyond the green pastures, which I constantly neglect to take him up on. Silly me.

Its good to have a friend like Gratefullness, and I'm glad she came by today...I've missed her lately. She brought me a present too, like she usually does - just handed it to me before she said goodbye. I knew what it was before I even opened it, because she leaves the same gift every time...its one of my favorite things in the whole wide world...its called Peace.

Umbrella Etiquette - Rule No. 1 "Size Matters"

Today we enter into a new realm of etiquette, a realm that stretches beyond the standard "do not use your dessert fork to pick off scabs" and "do not tell your future mother-in-law dirty jokes on first meeting" to name a couple, straight into....(drum roll please)....

`
Umbrella Etiquette.

Please take some time to carefully absorb said Umbrella Etiquette, as I firmly believe it could one day save your life or the life of someone you have never met with a mullet walking on the sidewalk near you during a rain storm.
`

So - If you would allow me, I would now like to present you with exhibit A, which will start us off on our Umbrella Etiquette journey:

` `
Exibit A: "Big Momma"


`
Okay, so immediately upon viewing this picture, one will turn their attention to the insanely-white coat that lady is mistakenly wearing after labour day - big no no. Please people, you know the rule, all you have to do is follow it.
`

Secondly, you will notice the extremely red car in the foreground of the picture, artistically parked with its back end forward whereas all the other cars are front-end forward. This is a mystery...I like mystery.
`

Thirdly, and most importantly, one can't help but notice THE HUGE FRIKIN UMBRELLA THAT UNDOUBTEDLY BELONGED TO SNUFFLEUPAGUS BEFORE HIS PASSING. What? Did you pick this up from a Sesame Street prop auction??!!

```
I cannot believe the size of this umbrella, it's practically a weapon!! I mean, COME ON, have the meeting in the office guys, you know, on dry land, inside the building with coffee machines and swivel chairs?? All I can say is "you've been swindled!" - yes the umbrella salesman told you it would be a good way to incorporate fresh air and exercise into your daily office life, but have you no consideration for the lack of space provided on the average North American city sidewalk?? GOOD GRIEF!!! I'm having a mental breakdown here!!
`

So first of all, let me remind you that I live in a Canadian West Coast city that has two seasons - Rain and Almost Could Pass For Summer. That being the case, this is what I have to deal with just about every day working Downtown - people walking around without a care in the world, sporting their Humvee umbrellas with diabolical umbrella spears pointing right at my head as they walk by, hitting me in the face, and poking out my eyes as they continue on, completely unaffected, listening to "Singing in the Rain" (the Clockwork Orange version) on their precious little iPods, as I slowly bleed to death. `
Okay, so a bit of an exaggeration, but you get my point.
`
Anyway, now that I've gotten all that off my chest I will thus present you with RULE NO. 1:
`
NEVER SPORT AN UMBRELLA UNDER WHICH MARY POPPINS AND ALL THE RESIDENTS OF CHERRY TREE LANE COULD SEEK SHELTER SIMULTANEOUSLY!!!
`
Ponder that, soak it in, store it in your memory, then go out into the umbrella-crazy world and do your part to keep our streets safe!
`

This is a war on umbrellas people!!

``
Okay, all done.
` `
Stay tuned for more Umbrella Etiquette and remember today's lesson - SIZE MATTERS - was brought to you by the letter Q!

Stop funking around!

Hello all.

(picture of me emerging from my dark ocean of solitude onto a piece of driftwood which I think may represent my mother or possibly a piece of driftwood)

Its been a while. I've missed you, and I've missed my little bloggy blog. I have been in, how do you call in dis countree - "a funk" - which is a word artists of every kind use to describe the times in our lives/careers when dangit, we just don't have anything funny or inspirational to say, or, dare I say, we have stopped being depressed and contemplative losing touch with the very source of our creativity; that being, of course, our inner melodramatic angst and deep deep deeeeepp deeeeeeeeeep emotional suffering. Haa haa...all of you out there who are artists, forgive my trite explanation of our most afeared disposition.

Some of my friends have felt extreme disappointment over my neglect of LbOAWP, as they have come to depend on it as a portal straight into the very depths of my mind, a place where I am read like a book, a very easy book, like maybe Reader's Digest or Fun With Dick and Jane, or somewhere in the middle of the two.

Sadly, outside of my blogging, I am but a silent shroud of a woman, almost like a ghost, a friendly ghost with freckles, constantly wearing my beloved black hoodie with the letter "A" stuck on the front, looking as though it has been "bejeweled" directly over the left side of my chest by my overly-supportive grandmother who watched one too many infomercials about the crazy machine and gave into the sparkly lady with the big hair and the froufy cat named Sapphire with "bejeweled" tail fur...after which she was like "what the hec am I going to do with this" and then got to the business of embroidering my shirts against my will. That's actually not true, but its fun to think about, eh?

You see, when it comes to the hoodie, the black says, "I am deep" the faux jewel-embroidered 'A' says "I bought this on sale from Mariposa two years ago with my sister-in-law who's name starts with an E even though we couldn't find a matching jewel-embroidered 'E' hoodie for her after which she did the responsible thing and bought a pair of socks". I think...maybe.

I have a colleague at work whose name starts with an L, and she has one too. We constantly have to call each other in the morning to make sure we aren't wearing the same hoodie (aside from the whole L vs A thing). I thought we should probably make up a schedule, for fairness' sake, and thus it has been decided that I get to wear my hoodie whenever I want, and my colleague gets to deal with it. What can I say, schedules solve problems.

Okay, back to business. I have returned home to blogging land, and I know that you and the millions of others who read my blog will be breathing a sigh of relief, taking off your sackcloth and ashes, and opening your blinds and windows to once again take a glimpse of the sun. I do this for you because I love you and because, as a Canadian wannabe writer, I must continue to be unabashedly self promoting. :)

So....

Stay tuned for some more of the good stuff!

Amber

poem - passion is absent

passion is absent from me

`

and he has taken all of my emotions with him

`

his currency, my creativity, stolen from me voilently

`

squandering it all away in exchange for an empty room

`

i sigh and i wonder if he will ever return to me

`

and even if he does...will i recognize his face?

`

`