Summer Plans

Some friends bought a little castle on the Sunshine Coast so we went and paid them a visit earlier this month. We helped to hack and hew around the place to clean up the debris from last winter's storms, and the previous owner. It's incredible what volume of stuff humans can accumulate. The place is sweet and it was really special to share this time with good friends who are embarking on a new adventure. We hiked up to their local lake and I plunged myself in and paddled about. Luna joined me briefly. It was my first swim of the summer season.

Mark and the fire at twilight.

Writing my morning pages in the sun with the castle nearby. Without meeting him, I think I like the mind of the person who had this property last. He surely left his mark on it, not just in the building but in the many trees planted around the place.

Someone asked me what my summer plans were back in June and at the time I had nothing very concrete to say. Beyond the usual trailer meets and camping trips here and there. I like to stay close to home in the summer as it is the best time of year in the PNW, when the sun finally shines and you can live outside. We visit nearby Vancouver and sail the little boat we keep there. Some summers we meet up with family from the south but not this year. So there is a lot to do even without big plans.

Since that question was posed and in an effort to move my art practice along I have decided to reclaim my little barn to use as a drawing space until fall comes. I have been de-ratting it and generally clearing it up all the while thinking about mark-making. I have painted the inside so far and it feels better already. Often I have dreamt of a house where I suddenly discovered several unused rooms and I think this represents the innate knowledge of my own potential which I keep sort of closed up and away from public view, often forgetting that it exists at all. At the moment the whole 5 acres feels like a potential canvas for expression.

My Cowichan Sweater

I had this whole post planned. Several weeks ago now I heard a story on the radio that got me thinking about my Cowichan sweater and my west coast roots, and I thought I would write about it. Sadly it was not very interesting writing and I have come back to it today to finish it up and discovered that my uninspired writings were not saved. Well dear reader, you have been saved.

In the meantime I am picking up clues, like stitches. Did you know you can start making something and in the end it can be much larger than where you started? Thinking about art all the time is like this and that is what I have been doing. Thinking about art is an odd activity, I guess it's similar to thinking about enlightenment, maybe they are the same thing. I am trying to see what is unseen and make an opinion about that. I am trying to hang onto the opinion just long enough for it to be shot down by some other observation and subsequent opinion that has formed. It's like watching the tide come in and go out, like watching the day pass, minute by minute, the light changes, the trees move. It is a symphony. It goes on without any input from me. My role is inconsequential but I am so fascinated to watch.

I am waiting for something to emerge. Last week I suddenly understood a series of dreams I've had over the years. The dreams were uncomfortable and odd and I could never see what they meant at the time but now I can see more clearly what they were about. The common theme was deep dark spaces that I was required to go into. In almost every dream I was surprised at the existence of the dark space, down a hall, behind a room, under the stairs. These were dark spaces with no head room and I never went in. They were close spaces with cold dry walls. Out in the open of my yard it struck me that these dreams were about this work. The deep work, the unknown knowing that goes on during exploration and reflection. I never wanted to fall into those spaces afraid of what I might find and fearing getting stuck in there. Now I think I am beginning to scratch into those deep places, put my fingertips on them, feel the rough edges of what could come to be known.

Maybe you are curious about the sweater. It was a gift from one of my brothers. It is a classic west coast design and it is one of my most cherished belongings. Here are some links to the original DNTO story that inspired me, a film about the history of the Coast Salish knitting, and the writer whose thesis inspired the film.

All for now. Keep on making, keep on seeking.

Resurfacing

"Whatever returns from oblivion returns to find a voice," writes Louise Glück in her poem "The Wild Iris." I think that will be a key theme for you in the coming weeks. There's a part of you that is returning from oblivion -- making its way home from the abyss -- and it will be hungry to express itself when it arrives back here in your regularly scheduled life. This dazed part of you may not yet know what exactly it wants to say. But it is fertile with the unruly wisdom it has gathered while wandering. Sooner rather than later, it will discover a way to articulate its raw truths.

Chew on that.

Returning

I am back to walking despite the bitter cold. The question of purpose comes up not just for me but for others in my milieu. The young are confused and misinterpret their daily acts as trite and unimportant. I often think if only X would happen then I could do Y, Z. Well here's a news flash. X is happening! I picked up trash today on my way home. I picked up a big plastic cup, a plastic sheath from one of the salmon reparation saplings that flew off in the wind, and an empty bottle of vodka before I found a discarded grocery bag to put it all in. I filled it up pretty quickly. I have been meaning to do this for a long time but haven't. The trash annoys me. Beer cans, coffee cups, fast food bags that like magnets pull the dog off course. So today I did it. It felt good, and it gave me a totally different perspective on my walk. I may never write a great novel and there may be no purpose to any of it but I will be able to walk down my road without hating humanity and that's something.

P.S. Someone on my road drinks a ton of 100 Proof Vodka in plastic mickey bottles. I hope it isn't a kid.

Circular

I told my daughter tonight that if she wanted to know what sort of mood I was in to check the state of the kitchen sink. If the sink is clean I am feeling good. If there is chaos in the sink I am not in a good place. I think it's important to give kids these clues, to help them navigate the emotional landscape of the people they live with. My mother was not an open book. There were certain things she communicated clearly but teenagers are naturally self absorbed which makes picking up subtle cues challenging, if not entirely off their radar. I don't want to burden my kid with the process I find myself in currently, this period of hormonal readjustment, this life as a creative, self employed, slightly fragile human. This drying up. It's complicated and sometimes scary.

So far, the fall has been good. My daughter has been busy which means I am busy supporting her, in her multiple activities. In many ways being in service to another human makes your own life very simple and directed. It's easy to suppress your own feelings when someone else needs your support. I wake early, make breakfast, make lunch, drive her to the bus or to school, have my day, attend school related functions revolving around sports and music, make supper, plan lunch, sleep. Strangely, I feel the opposite of put upon. I feel like we are this team. I signed up for this and she is working really hard. It's my job to help her be her best. The structure of her life dictates the structure of my life and this holds me together while the rest of me fluctuates wildly. There is no chaos when I look at her. I see the course we are on, I know what to do. I am grateful for her.

I stopped over at the urban farm today, the home of my friend who I have been helping in exchange for fruit and vegetables, since the spring. We picked tomatoes and she gave me the low-down on making sauce, which I will do tomorrow. We weeded a bit, social weeding while catching up pulling out bind weed, that stuff that just spirals around everything. She dug me up a perennial to take home. An Echinops; globe thistle, to be planted in full sun. I made a note on my phone, my memory is poor for these things, these days. The garden is moving along, into a new phase, there is still so much life there.

The Natural World

Golden Ears Park, B.C.

I casually titled this photo "What Emily Carr Saw". Of course the woods she encountered were wholly different from these. The trees she saw were giants, as big around as 10 men standing with arms outstretched, some of them were close to a thousand years old.  I can't say what she saw there but the resulting paintings are mysterious, sometimes dark, gnarled and smoothed, deep and cavernous forest-scapes. I read recently she was never accepted by the darling, Canadian, Group of Seven. They were easterners, she was out west. They were in different worlds geographically, she was a woman.

Interestingly or strangely I have little interest in painting the natural world. I prefer to walk in it, listen to it, absorb it and carry it away with me, let it nourish me. Today a friend and I walked up near the site of the 2010 winter Olympics at Cypress Bowl above Vancouver. My friend is a Parks Volunteer and I went along with her to help observe a particular trail. She took notes and photographed trouble spots, we noted birds and flora and fauna and I felt profoundly content. It felt useful to make honest observations and to clear a few branches away from the path and to consider how we could, in simple ways make the destination of the trail a better experience for those who trek up there. I forgot my camera and was a bit worried about my feet as I had neglected to bring socks (stupido!). The hike was fantastic and I decided, as it combined my two greatest interests; walking and pruning things, that I want this as my new job.

Edge of the Deck

(perhaps a poem)

Out there in the darkness
beyond the edge of the deck
lies our collective unconscious.
We are looking out to where we know it must be,
searching, catching glimpses. And it is looking in
at us from just out there with equal interest,
seeing everything.

Be prolific

This is my mantra. Too much of my time is spent second guessing, readjusting, holding dear and it all stops me. Failure is of course the big fear but it occurs to me when I am feeling powerful that making more stuff speeds the rate of failure and clears the way for success, whatever that is.

Yesterday I cut fabric for a garment before coming out to my office. I felt a little cheeky doing it and it made me think about how I prioritize all the things I do in a day. On a scale of 1 to 10, work is a 1, bathing gets a 10 and being creative is somewhere in the 9s. Why the hell is that. Shouldn't my creative pursuits be first? Please discuss.

Next Up

It's been awhile since I thought too far into the future. Caring for an elder means you live in the moment and that is where we have been for the past 8 years. Living day by day, week by week. Today my horoscope says to fantasize about a thrilling adventure you will have one day; and imagine who you want to be three years from now. I am pretty sure I still want to be me but a less worried version. In fact I am less worried these days, work is better and my general outlook continues to improve. I used to worry about losing my ambition and sinking into the couch like lost change. But dammit if I didn't get happier and then I started getting ideas again about doing things and making things and it turned into some kind of medicine for my poor tortured soul. I have actually been toying with a 5 year plan again which I have not done for some time. The last one came around the time of a grand-mal seizure I had in 1991, the same night Rodney King was beaten senseless by the Sylmar police. I lived in Sylmar then, what were the odds? I was stressed out and exhausted. My husband at the time was in the throes of some horrible anxiety disorder that made it impossible for him to leave the house. I lost my drivers license as part of the fall-out of the seizure and the one thing I needed him to do—drive me around—he could not do. I needed a plan so I made one. I concocted it late at night when I lay in bed afraid of falling asleep waiting for my brain to fail me, it involved moving away from my comfy job as an Art Director at A&M Records to create a life that was a mix of what I had known growing up in rural Canada and a car commercial that was playing on TV in 1991 for Isuzu, that involved a guy driving down a mountain side to get his mail. This spoke to me and so the 5 year plan took shape. It actually took about 4 years to realize but let's not split hairs. In the ensuing years things have happened in 4 or 5 year increments. This year marks 10 years that Mark and I have been together and 15 yrs since my mother died. So I am looking ahead. With Eddy no longer what we are planning around in the short term we can turn our minds to what we want to do next and it feels good and light despite the sadness. I have no answers yet, just some broad strokes and loads of ideas that I am not holding onto too tightly, rather I am watching them flip and fly and entice me to keep moving forward, coaxing coaxing.

Grocery Store Confessional

I got into one of those random conversations with a near stranger in the local Trader Joe's that got me thinking as I walked away. The cashier was speaking to the customer on line ahead of me. The cashier was confessing her lack of attendance at the gym where the customer worked. I piped up and said I have to admit I have never had a gym membership. It's true I am not a gym person, I go occasionally but not religiously like some, I prefer my long rather meditative walks. The cashier cocked her head and said well you're lucky, you're naturally slim. I scoffed at this a bit and it got me thinking.

I am tall, at over 6 feet, I am 60% leg. I weigh between 182 and 190lbs depending on what season I am in. I do not consider myself slim, in fact I most often see myself as slightly pudgy. In reality I am not fat. I have a round belly but my arms and legs are long and fairly free of fat. I have a flat ass, I can't sit on hard chairs without my it hurting. I recognize that my perception of myself may not accurately reflect my physical reality but maybe that's a good thing. Honestly I try not to think about my body as I find my size sort of freaky.

I am not going to confess an eating disorder here, I don't have one. What I am realizing though is that I don't see food as convenient entertainment, I see it as a necessity and it's preparation an artful practice that is orderly and logical and subject to much control. I am not a faddist. I am trying to maintain a healthy body and I have strict beliefs about how to do that. I have that quote on my fridge and the fridges I frequent, "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants". I think before I put things in my mouth and there are many things I simply won't eat any longer. I buy whole foods, meat, cheeses, grains, fruits and vegetables. I have fewer and fewer presto fallback foods. I still get that feeling of wanting something naughty like a doughnut or cake, I generally want the bready or the doughy but if I can just think about it awhile in a rational way I can usually easily dissuade myself from the craving.

Consequently I think a lot about food and what I should eat to keep my intake well balanced and interesting. I have the big picture in my head of what I have generally been eating and what I have eaten on any given day. I carry the macro and the micro view around with me, always weighing the findings. Have I had enough beans or grains, enough cold water fish, too much dairy, too much salt, not enough protein? At the moment I am attempting to train myself away from white flour and sugar which when I went at it hard core before Christmas yielded a 5lb weight loss which was a pleasant side effect. More importantly I noticed that my general anxiety was much less severe because my blood sugar levels were more constant, this is what truly motivates me, a feeling of calm.

I have been accused of being controlling and it's probably true but in a world where we have so little control over most things I feel okay about controlling how I am feeling through diet and exercise. I am less concerned about how I look since my view is fairly distorted anyway it's hard to gauge. If I feel good hopefully I look all right and if my 501's fit me that's ideal. It's funny to realize that others make these assumptions about a person's body. If only that cashier knew that I spend my day weighing and considering what to eat making sure never to have too much, denying myself all sorts of things in the name of physical and emotional enlightenment.

Coming in 2012

Am hoping to lend a hand with some set design/construction for this project this Spring. My first foray into the world of theater and set design. Please pledge if you can, every little bit helps.

Not much.

This is all I can safely say. Tuesday I begin writing the novel in earnest and I can't talk about the story to anyone. I have to hold it close to my breast like a sacred object. In the meantime I will try and write about other stuff like the freakish chickens I am raising and our rising sadness about Eddy who is now living in care and knows it isn't right. We're all dying but his case is more acute. To tide you over here is a picture of me with my new love interest.

9 weeks to meat

The chicks arrived last Thursday just as we left for Oregon in the pouring rain. My partner in crime collected them and got them all cozy in the stock tank I had set up for them in my little barn. It's helpful having another person invested in this rather dodgey project. Chicks are fragile and the whole process of raising them feels precarious to me. I once drowned 25 birds by accident early on in the process when they were small and unable to stay warm. My waterer lost suction in the night and filled the metal stock tank with water, just enough to soak each little downy bird and they struggled to pile themselves up on top of each other to reach the light but it was all for naught and in the morning when I discovered the mishap they were just a wet mass of dead chicks. I was horrified. I stood in the barn and screamed for help, no one came. My daughter was 3ish at the time, I had to keep her from seeing them, the pile of transparent limp bodies, their eyes shut but visible through thin skin. I carry this horror with me and each time I go to check on them I feel a slight panic rise up in me as I step across the threshold of the barn. So far they are okay. I don't need to be caring for 30 chicks at the moment but I am, and in a way maybe it's good for me. In an effort to outrun the winter doldrums I have packed my fall beyond recognition so that everyday is filled with multiple activities. At night I write my list and in the morning I follow it like an automaton forcing myself to think less and do more. Surprisingly it seems to be working. I feel okay, less gray than usual and more energetic despite giving up my new found love, coffee. It would be nice not to have to work so hard at feeling reasonable but this is who I am so I have to try new things as my brain chemistry changes. I changed my diet recently too at the suggestion of my naturopath. My blood pressure is still high and at the moment my head is pounding but that is just today. This too shall pass. There is something purposeful about being needed by 30 tiny birds that you will one day butcher and slather in BBQ sauce. For today they need food and clean shavings and to be warm and I can handle that.

Amy Butler Shirt

I have been spending a lot of time in my bedroom lately. I am rich in places to be creative in my life. I am lucky to have an entire building dedicated to myself and I am also fortunate to have a large bedroom that I don't have to share with anyone. I have been sewing there and am trying to finish things in a short amount of time so that the season for which the garment I am making was intended does not pass without me being able to sport my hard work. I am interested in training myself to have better habits, to do things with more care and sewing falls into this category. I have always done it but I have not always done it well. I used to get so frustrated that I often ended up in tears. I also made a lot of clothes that were not exactly constructed well but they were good enough and I wore them. I am in a wholly different place in my development these days and I find I have amazing focus and am not afraid of ripping seams out to replace them with better ones. More precise ones. I am not trying to achieve any kind of perfection, rather I am attempting to really be in the process of making something and really do it until it meets with my satisfaction. I see precision as a viable goal. So the Amy Butler Liverpool Tunic is complete! I still need to put some buttons on it and then it will be ready to wear and I can start on the next thing. Each completed project signals permission to begin the next thing and so I go, making, making, until the end of time.

An egg in the hand

Friday today and here's the chicken report. Since building the coop-cage before Christmas I have not lost anymore hens since Gloria the Brahma was so violently eviscerated. I still see traces of his wing feathers near the coop but can't bring myself to pick them up. The hens seem fine without him in fact they are better than fine, they seem a bit kinder to each other, a more cohesive group, no one vying for attention from the fabulous rooster. They are more of a team, even the two little bantam hens are doing well. I set the light timer to come on around 4am about 2 months ago and at 5pm when I lock the hens in I give them some corn to eat before bedtime, to keep them warm during the night which aids in egg production. Since then I have been getting about 4 eggs per day which was my goal. We eat eggs everyday and there are plenty for baking and I can also share some with my tenant when I am away and she tends to the hens.

Today also marks a bit of a milestone as it is the beginning of the last weekend that Mark and I will spend as swinging singles. After this weekend Pearl will be with us more of the time as her dad is leaving the state for work. With all change there is a period of adjustment but I see this as a positive thing as time is such a gift with a growing child. We'll have twice as much weekend play time to see friends and family, go to the movies, hike, shop and chill out.

I had hoped to give up something for lent and I was having trouble defining it but I think I can sum it by saying for lent (and perhaps forever) I want to set free my complicated feelings about the past and go forward without contempt or judgment for the lives of others. It's really quite freeing, happy Spring.

Something New

I like to mix it up, and try new things. In the city I live near, Bellingham, as in many towns and cities across America, everyone is riding bikes. I yearn to be like everyone else and to be a part of this new-fangled bicycle movement. Of course, for me it's not very practical as I live 2o miles away from the city where I would be seen being a part of this scene. Recently I schemed and planned and bought myself a new snazzy bike that was made in another town near me. Very important this buying local thing, I am down with the movement. I am pretty sure the bike rack attachment I got for my car rack was probably made in China, oh well, can't bat a thousand all the time.

Mostly I ride my bike near my home in the country. It's pleasant as the roads are mostly flat and sparsely traveled. The air smells of hay and wild roses and cow manure. It's peaceful and satisfyingly pastoral. We wave at people we know as we ride the 5 miles to Everson and on the way home we can get soft serve ice cream from the local dairy and eat it as we cut across the middle school field. But somehow this wasn't enough for me. I longed to ride the streets of Bellingham.

A few weeks ago with Pearl enrolled in a summer day camp in Bellingham I brought my bike along to town. I parked the car in what I thought was a strategic location and set out on the bike. In short order I realized I had almost no idea how to get into downtown from where I was. Luckily I ran into a friend who hipped me to a path which took me past the mall near where I had parked and through a funny forgotten neighborhood to a place where I could pass under the freeway which separates downtown from where I began my journey. I rode down into town on fresh pavement and it felt good for a time. It was hot. As I rode along getting closer to town I started to become aware of the difficulties of riding a bike on streets with parked and passing cars. I soldiered on. I felt brave being so close to the street. I realized how comfortable I am passing through space inside my car. Once downtown I needed some lunch and then I needed a place to eat said lunch. I parked myself on the lawn behind the museum and ate my California rolls and thought about how I might look to passersby and museum employees. Did I look homeless? Was I breaking any loitering laws? Was it odd, a woman eating lunch in public with a bike, alone. I ate slowly enjoying the shade, struggling with my chopsticks as I always do. A whole bunch of Asian students appeared suddenly from the hill below my spot and I felt instantly self conscious about my lack of mastery of the tools I was eating with. They didn't care, they were lost in a tour taking pictures of each other and chatting away.

After lunch I continued on with my mission to participate in bicycle society. I came across a sign on the sidewalk that clearly stated no cycling here so I got back onto the street and found myself in the midst of a small drama between an angry motorist and a meter maid, I rode through it invisible to the players, one of whom was dramatically tearing up a yellow parking ticket and throwing it on the street. I stopped into a few shops, one of which I brought my bike right into and the other I locked my bike up to a stand with the other bikes and went in to look at overpriced panniers. They let me use their bike pump, that was nice.

Pretty soon it was time to go and collect Pearl and so I headed back to my starting point the way I would have had I been a car. I did take a small detour through a park trail which was okay until my mind started to wander and I entertained how foolish it might be to be alone on a trail. Would someone jump a person on a bike? Who knows. I called out to squirrel, accusing it of being a rat. It went up a tree. The path let me out onto a very busy north south road and about a block along a woman yelled at me to ride on the sidewalk. This perplexed me and I yelled back to her suggesting she was a redneck. A fine insult I thought. I eventually did get onto the sidewalk, it seemed safer and I passed a nice man holding a sign advertising spicy food. He was well dressed and smiled widely at me and wished me a good day. I returned the sentiment. I marveled quietly at how this generous fellow without knowing it had canceled out the earlier insult. I eventually got myself back to my car and got the bike loaded back up and picked up Pearl on time.

It's good to do things if only to get clear in your own mind whether you like them or not. It was a romantic notion this town riding but I think I am better suited to country rides and trail excursions. On the third day of Pearl's class I took my car downtown and felt okay about it.

Summer

Around the fire

Not writing much lately. Summer has paid us a visit and so I have exited my head and am inhabiting my body more fully. Work has been a little slow and I have been taking advantage of that as well instead of worrying about it. I have set up my summer living room on the porch and am happily living outside. We have sailed, gone to the public pool near Mark's, and floated in the Nooksack River in a secret location. We've been entertaining our friends. I'm thinking a bit about writing but nothing is coming to me. I am reading, but only a little. I am focused more on getting little chores taken care of each day, picking berries, feeding the chickens. It's amazing how easy it is to fill ones time with the simple tasks of life, I can barely remember how I found the time work. Today I will pick raspberries, buy 3 sacks of chicken feed and give blood. I may even do a little graphic design while the sprinkler waves back and forth, back and forth.

Roadtripping 2010

Enjoying Austin Powers in the Super 8 in Creswell OR.

We are back safely from our annual summer roadtrip to Oregon to visit Pearl's birthfamily. We have been 3 years running and I see no end in sight, every time we go we have more fun. This year was extra special because Becky and Tom, Pearl's birthmom and her partner of many years got married. Mere puny words can't describe how I feel about being a part of this equation. This year we met a few new cousins and reconnected with several members of Pearl's extended family. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about the relationships we have with all these people but being at the wedding was different. The connection was more public. Here is this child who so clearly is Becky's flesh and blood and then there is us, her parents and guardians. At a wedding, everyone wants to know where you fit in the family. I found myself saying I am the mother of the brides oldest daughter. A mouthful, but accurate. The best reaction we got was from the weddings officiant who is also the brides, sister in law's father. He actually hugged us and shook our hands for our role there. It is inevitable that we talk about adoption in terms of early loss and eventual redemption and open adoption is not exempt from that. Becky lost a lot in the early days of this adoption but nowadays it all feels pretty good and happy. I can honestly say that I love and revere the people that Pearl came from, I honor her birthfamily and her origins.

In the process we take these very special roadtrips. We make the journey fun which I see as a metaphor for the whole process of raising Pearl. We get in the car and make a few stops along the way, we sleep in funny hotels and we are getting to know the attractions along the way. It is no longer a long uncomfortable drive through unfamiliar territory.

This year, in addition to the usual fare of hotel swimming pools, mini fridges, watching late night movies in bed, and complimentary breakfasts we stopped in for a visit at Mt St. Helen's Ape Caves which was spectacular. We toured some of the 12,000ft of underground caves formed by lava flows 2000 years ago. We stopped a lot on the way home as our driver was quite fatigued but we all remained cheerfully in holiday mode and felt happy about we had just taken part in.

Making Friends

In my perpetual quest for a satisfying life this question has been plaguing me lately. How do you make friends in a new town? As kids, if you move to a new place you have the arena of school in which to sample the various flavors of friends. As an adult if you move with your job, the workplace offers an instant supply of personalities to connect with. Time and routine also create friendships. I have lived in Whatcom County for 16 years and have made friends in a handful of places, the library, the grocery, post-office, the farmers market, work interactions.

Mark bought his place in Abbottsford with one singular reason in mind, to be closer to me. He works at home by himself as I do. 6 years have passed and I look around this town and think how the hell do we meet people here? Don't get me wrong, I have many friends. I am not forlorn and friendless unable to connect with other humans I just want some friends here in Abbottsford, someone to play cards with on Saturday night over drinks. It presents an interesting sociological problem. How do a couple of people in their 40's make friends in a town where they don't got to church or school, or even work, not to mention that we spend a lot of time away.

I am solution oriented personality so I think what can I do. What if I put a little flyer up around the hood that read, Professional married couple seeks similar for light social activity, cards, tennis, rides in a big red car, BBQ-ing. And our phone number. Seriously what would happen? Swingers is what comes to mind for me, freaks, and other lonely misfits. So sad, I need a friend, will you be my friend? It's more complicated than all that of course, developing friends.

I walk the dog in a park near us and occasionally I see someone who looks nice and we might stop and talk about dogs. But then it's time to go and it seems so socially awkward to suddenly blurt out, I need a friend here in town. Here's my card, call me anytime. Well not anytime because I am not actually here that often but sometimes I am. I met a woman with a really fat Weimaraner and thought okay now we're getting somewhere but she lived up the coast. Thwarted I was.

Yesterday I ran into a woman who attended the same dog obedience class as we did 4 years ago when Luna was a pup. She had a little fuzzball dog called "Butters", a name some of you will recognize from the long hours you spend watching "South Park". She barely recognized me but was happy to chat once I explained who I was again. The whole time we talked I was thinking, give her your number she is funny, you could be friends. She lives in town and probably has enough friends already, that's the other thing, by this age people seem to have all the friends they can manage, why take on more?

I have 259 friends on Facebook. According to Mashable this is the optimum number any one person can hope to interact with in a meaningful way, which really means that of that 259, about 40 of them actually participate regularly in normal FB activities, posting pictures, making status updates, sharing links. I like Facebook but it is a slightly empty experience after a time and sometimes I just want to encounter a real person. But how?

At my place we have friends near and far who are happy to come over. We go to town occasionally and meet friends there for music and meals and holiday parties. When we got to Vancouver we have a mix of friends and family we routinely encounter. Occasionally some of the Vancouver people pilgrimage out to Abbottsford but it is a long drive home especially if you have been well fed and watered. Our American friends don't come to Abbottsford often, I feel it is an imposition to invite people up because of the border crossing, not everyone is comfortable with the scrutiny and frankly some people just can't cross so I don't ask.

Again, what to do? Join something? A quilting group, museum boosters, tennis or running club. It all takes time. I just want to see some nice couple who sort of resembles us in natural fibers out with a dog and at the risk of coming across as completely strange, say hey there, need a friend? Me too, here's my card.

Where I'm at.

You Sagittarians may wander farther and wider than the other signs of the zodiac, and you may get itchier when required to stay in one place too long, but you still need a sense of belonging. Whether that comes from having a certain building where you feel comfortable or a wilderness that evokes your beloved adventurousness or a tribe that gives you a sense of community, you thrive when you're in regular touch with a homing signal that keeps you grounded. According to my analysis, 2010 will be prime time for you to find or create or renew your connection to a source that serves this purpose well.