Fixing a wobbly shelf, Part One

So about 2 months ago I put up two "floating" shelves in my living room (you can find the post below). One of the shelves I put up did not feel secure at all, but I decided to leave that little problem for another day.

Yesterday was finally that other day. I had a vague idea of how to do it, I asked around a little, but I was still nervous. So to be sure I knew what I was doing, I turned to the best invention in the past 20 years...the internet. I read up and watched videos, and when I finally felt confident I went out to get what I needed.

My plan was to remove the offending shelf, then cover the holes, paint over the spots and put the shelf up again. It could have been a little higher anyway. One thing I did learn about covering the holes that I didn't know, was putting a patch over it before the putty. I don't know how much of a difference this makes, or if it makes it easier, but I felt more confident having it.

I may have put the putty on a little too thin in some places, but now that it's all dry and painted over it actually looks pretty good. You would have to get up really close to notice the little squares from the screen patch. I read somewhere to stuff the hole with paper, and I did. I still don't know if I should have, but the way I see it, I can't see it, so for now it isn't a problem.

I was worried that because the paint in the can has been sitting for a few months the colour might not blend in exactly and I'd be able to see the spots. I know I shouldn't have been worried about this...and it turned out perfect anyway. Not that any of this really matters because when the shelf goes back up you won't really be able to see any of it.

I'm waiting to put the shelf back up because it's really hard to do these floating shelves with only one set of hands. The bar you have to hang isn't light and it's hard to hold it with one hand while screwing things in with the other. Especially since it's higher on the wall.

So for now my one little shelf on the wall looks lonely, but the wall behind it looks great!

“Toast. The Story of a Boy’s Hunger” A book review

The thing I love about reading is the chance to escape into someone else’s world. If it is a really good book I feel as though the author has taken me by the hand and is leading me around. Toast, by Nigel Slater, is everything I want in a book. I picked it up because it sounded amusing and it was about food. I’ve really gotten into the flavours of food, in the last couple of years, and I’ve come to appreciate people who appreciate food.

Slater is definitely someone who appreciates food. As you read you have to wonder if he became a chef more for his love of eating food then making it. Slater writes of his childhood almost matter-of-factly, using the food of his childhood to take you through his most cherished memories, and sad events events of his life. He talks of the sad things without anger; he doesn’t want anyone’s pity. He describes traumatic events like he describes sitting around the table eating dinner, both simply as things that have happened in his life.

As soon you start reading, you can tell that Slater is a professional writer. His writing is entertaining, funny and elegant. His has the ability to make your mouth water on one page, while he pulls at your heartstrings on the next. He depicts all of the events and people in his life with honesty. His good guys have a bad side, and his bad guys have a good side.

I really enjoyed this book. I could even see myself rereading it, but probably not when I’m hungry...

Tornadoes in Ontario destroy more than people's homes.

Last night tornadoes hit south western Ontario. In one city alone 600 houses were damaged and 44 of those homes must now be torn down because they are “unliveable”. Cars were toppled over like they were toys throw about by children. Hundred year old trees fell, taking the power lines with them. Thousands were left without power, some until this morning.

As devastating as this sounds, houses can be rebuilt, cars replaced, trees replanted and power restored. What can’t be brought back is the life of the eleven year old boy who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When the news first broke that an eleven year old boy had died while taking cover in a forest from the storm, my first thought was, ‘What on earth was this boy doing outside in the forest when the storm reports had been on the news since the morning?’ I couldn’t help but wonder why his parents hadn’t gone out to look for him when the sky started to turn dark and stormy.
While the details are still unclear as to what happened, today the news reported that this boy had been at a day camp when the storm hit. The man who ran towards the dying screams of this little boy to try and help him didn’t seem to know the boy or have anything to do with him.

Where were the people who were supposed to be watching this boy? I know eleven year olds are old enough to wander off a little, but it wasn’t like this storm was a surprise. Sure it’s intensity was a surprise, as were the tornadoes, but there had been thunderstorm warnings all day. Just a few weeks ago a family was struck by lightning from a storm that seemed to be forming in the distance. The little boy in that case is still in the hospital.

I have to ask, didn’t we learn? Who was in charge of this eleven year old? When his parents dropped him off in the morning didn’t they have the right to assume that someone was going to look out for their child? In all of the destruction this death seems so pointless, so preventable.

Warm fuzzies

My cat just licked my leg like it was a salt stick. In between licks I could feel her hot little breath on my ankle. Then I felt her little teeth try to take a little bite. She's so adorable, I love her to bits. I know she would never hurt me which makes it even cutier. She's such a little sweetie. She makes my heart melt.

Starting again.

Can I start again?

Rewind the tape?

There is so much inside me, this energy that is making every bit of my body tingle. So much stuff is pent up inside me I feel like my body is going to start hovering. I’m worried that my pounding heart is going to break through my chest and give me away. I want to vomit all of it onto this page, but there is something blocking it. Something living inside of me is pushing it back down.

Despite the energy coursing through my body I feel fatigued. The strength it takes to keep this pulsing energy from exploding out of me weighs down on my body. It feels like walking around in a pressure tank.

I feel myself falling into a hole, and as hard as I scrambled to get out of it, I just go deeper and deeper. I wonder how I got here. I want to start over, where do I go for the redo? I want to shout out “Rewind the tape! I want to go back!”

And then as soon as it started, suddenly it’s gone. I look around, and wonder what it was all for. There is nothing I would change. No reason to go back. Everything is the way it should be. I feel silly.

Everything is the way it should be.

Blank Page

I can’t find the words, but I want to explain.

My fingers fly over the keys, as the page fills with words,

But just as quickly as they appear I make them disappear.

It isn’t a question of how much I want to share,

But how far back I want to go,

It’s such a complex web of events that brought us here today.

Where do I begin, when the story hasn’t ended yet?

Tomorrow

Do you remember what tomorrow is?

You always forgot what day it was. You always had to be reminded. But I didn’t mind. The day doesn’t mean to me what it means to others. I enjoy the excuse to get together and have good times. That’s all that mattered…and still matters to me.

It’s funny because it was a year ago tomorrow when it all started to end. I knew that the day would probably come, but this day was the day I had to accept it. I had to accept that for you out of sight was out of mind. I wasn’t worth the cost of the phone call.

So many times I needed to hear your voice; I didn’t care what it cost. All I cared about was talking to you. If I had told you how much I cared, would that have made a difference? Would you have cared more? Or was it always too much work for you?

I tried to forget. I really did. I pushed it so far out of my mind I couldn’t remember how it all fell apart. I don’t know what made me do it…look for you. Now your very public life without me has become almost an obsession. I go back and look one or two times a day, sometimes more. I try to make myself stop but I can’t.

Looking into your eyes again reminds me of all that we have lost. And for what? I started to blame myself.

Maybe I was asking for too much. Maybe I should have given you another chance. I had pushed the memories so far back I couldn’t remember. Was it me? I had to know.

I pulled up the letters that led to the final silence. I reread every detail. And then I remembered. I gave you a chance, more than one. But you blamed me. It wasn’t my fault, yet you blamed me. I gave you the key to get back in, but either you didn’t recognize it or you ignored it. That was your last chance. I don’t think we can go back. You proved I wasn’t worth it to you. But if not me, then who is? Who could ever be worth it more than I was?

So here I sit, knowing that I did all I could. Knowing that you didn’t. And I wonder. Will you remember what tomorrow is?

Sidenote: I just realized it was 2 years ago...how time flies...