First Time Home Buyer

It’s been so long since I owned my own home that I now qualify for the First Time Home Buyer Program here in Canada. I’m a full-time student working part-time for a church, so this information isn’t of any real use to me. Not yet.

I’ve owned as opposed to rent for the majority of my adult life. I was married when we bought our first home, for $96,000, in 1998. You probably couldn’t buy that house for less than $225,000 now! After the divorce, I wound up cohabitating with a boyfriend and selling my house. I used the proceeds to buy into his house. When that didn’t work out, and once he had his credit score fixed, he paid me out from that house and I used those proceeds to buy my very own little bungalow which I nicknamed the Hobbit House. I loved living in that house.

Another failed relationship later and I bought a 2600 sq ft, four bedroom home near the kids’ high school. I rented out the bungalow. This new home had two decks and each deck had a lilac tree growing beside it.

I sold my sweet bungalow to pay off all my debts once the kids had both moved out.

I sold the larger home to put money down on a condo with yet another boyfriend. When that ended, he wasn’t able to free up money to give me back my down payment and couldn’t qualify for the mortgage on his own. So I started renting, for the first time since I was 26. I moved to a co-op, which was a drastic change from the exclusive condo lifestyle. I spent a year in the co-op, and then three years in a lovely one bedroom apartment with a splendid view.

Now for two years I’m living in my friends’ house while they’re out of the country. This keeps the rent very low and allows me to go to school, while keeping their house safe and well-tended. I am so glad to be back in a house. I am also glad to have had a break from taking care of a house, but it’s good to be back. When these two years are over, I’ll want to buy a house again. With the home buyer plan, I can use RRSP for my down payment without tax consequence, and save on some transfer tax. I’m gonna need an income though! So all that said, I better get doing my school work so I qualify for a mortgage when I graduate.

This post brought to you by second term looming procrastination.

Happy 2020!

Gotta be quick here, gotta make with words then make my way out the door. There’s dancing and champagne and I’m entering the new year – heck, the new decade – wearing a mu-mu and llama socks, like no fucks given. I went back through my journal, through my Google calendar, through my Instagram, trying to find evidence of my last fuck given. 404, fucks not found. 2019 rocked.

I wrote out the notable and amazing things in 2019 and it took two pages in my journal. Tomorrow I start three new journals – one for object writing, one for planning and scheming even more wickedly awesome moments and achievements, and one for “Dear diary, wow, I can’t even, like wow” type stuff that no one will ever read.
2019 I went to many workshops each of songwriting, singing, improv, and psychotherapy. I took in more live music than some people do in a lifetime. I went to theatre more than once every month.

I applied for, was accepted to, and started grad school. I took massively bold steps forward into the future I want for myself. I started a job that makes me think and grow and that I believe in. I earned money acting.

I loved friends and lovers, and I swam around in the pleasant greys of no fucks given and love being love.

I did say good bye to a dog. We did have a formal goodbye for my mother. I was really stressed out at times. I was confused and sometimes my heart hurt a lot – that seems to happen when we love, doesn’t it? I failed at quitting drinking three times. I came to terms with my relationship with alcohol.

I danced so much. I joined crazy arts and culture events. I attended three conferences, all without a career to advance. I enjoyed untold pleasant conversations.

I loved 2019. I’ve been wanting a year like 2019 for a long, long time. I dropped all my fucks in January and was in the moment as much as I possibly could. So maybe this is why I’m trying to manufacture giddiness for the New Year. I have no need to escape the dying year. I’m confident the new one holds delight and living and crying and laughing and thinking and novelty enough to satisfy even me.

Happy New Year my friends. Happy New Decade. Happy New Day. Happy Right Now, and most likely Happy Tomorrow.

I can draw your face

I can summon the smell of you in the frigid night,
sniffing the air like a winter wolf; cedar, snow, and smoke, and the smell of your skin.
I can hear your voice in silence, the words I can’t understand singing at my ears.
I can draw your face with my eyes closed. I can taste your skin.
I can send protective love on crow’s wing,
whether you think you deserve it
or not.

Tiny Herod

Grand River Unitarian Universalist Congregation Sanctuary, Christmas Eve

    This is where I work but tonight I was not working. I got to sing carols, light candles, and listen to stories. Look how whimsical and warm this space was. I needed some of that.
    The thought we left with was how each character in the story of the birth of Jesus lives in the world today, and a small version of each lives within us. Tiny, jealous Herods writhing within us, desperate to control everything to retain power. Angels, singing joy and praising the good. Magi, our inner wisdom skating the line between science and magic to discover truth. How does your Tax Collector show up? What is your Innkeeper like? Can you sense the simple gifts your inner Shepherd offers?
    The sermon didn’t get psychodynamic but that doesn’t mean I can’t. Maybe Christmas is as good a time as any to remember the Child within you and somehow feel again the miracle of their birth. Know that inside you is a Mother and a Father that is yours to be in relationship with. You can tell the story of that relationship the way you want, in your own words, and by whatever new rules you choose. 
    I think I better stop there before I start looking for my inner Donkey and Cow.
Merry Christmas to everyone who believes that, rejoice the return of the light if you’re on the hemisphere experiencing that, and Happy New Year to all who mark time in this way.         Conjure your blessings as you best fathom, and welcome to them. 

 

Puppies!


A friend’s dog had puppies. Oh! I said. Puppies! I want a puppy!
OK, he said. You can have a puppy.
Now for weeks every day I debate getting a puppy.

I tried thinking logically about it but getting a puppy or owning another creature isn’t really a logical choice in my mind. Likewise, I think having children is not a logical choice, unless your income is derived in such a way that creating your own work force makes sense. Most of the reasons to not get a dog are very logical: you need to change your schedule to accommodate a dog, they cost money in vet bills and food, you need to pick up their excrement, you can no longer go away or stay away unexpectedly, they’re an incredible amount of work as puppies and still actually a fair bit of work as dogs.

On the plus side, puppies. Dogs.

I can’t assign a weight to “puppies, dogs” so I can’t choose logically.
I do live alone and the company would be amazing. And having an alert dog would make me feel much safer. Of course, I’d have to work out some kind of puppy-sitting arrangement with family and friends for when I’m in class or on placement. I don’t know where I’m going to be living in 18 months. I don’t know where I’ll be working or how much I’ll be making.

OTOH life is so damned short and I miss having a dog.

And, wait, logically here now, I could train this dog to be a therapy dog, and when I have my practice, I would have a dog at the office that is trained as a therapy dog. And we would visit hospitals and care homes and universities! Yes, yes, this makes sense. By the time I’m done being trained as a therapist, the dog would be trained in therapy too!

Does that actually make sense? Am I inventing an impossible dream to rationalize doing something I’m almost certainly going to do even though it’s not sensible?

Yesterday at work at the Unitarian congregation, a congregant arrived with a fluffy, white puppy that was wearing a service-dog-in-training harness. After receiving permission, I commenced petting said puppy. It’s like joy in a harness! I exclaimed. The Puppy Owner agreed. I’d love to have a dog as a therapy dog for when I’m done school and open a practice, I said. She nodded.

Yeah, she says. That’s what this little guy is being trained for. I’m part of a private practice and we’re setting up a mindfulness group for trauma victims. This guy is going to be part of the group. He’ll be working in the practice once his training is complete, kind of an office dog.

I just need to decide on a name now, really.

I've been away

Not really away, but doing a graduate degree. Hey, didja know? That’s really hard!
So I’ve been doing just and only that.

I wrote a Facebook post this morning that could be a blog post. Good thing Google remembers my sign in credentials for this blog!

THE FACEBOOK POST

I woke up (kind of late and on the couch) this morning with the weirdest thought. “Maybe I no longer am a person who stays to the end of the party and then brings the party home.” I mean, I’m moving through the behaviours but it no longer rings true. Maybe I’m (and this is weird, bizarre) someone who’s actually ok with the party ending now. Or even (what even is this) ok with the party going on without me. Like, what is that? I still love to dance, I so love to dance. But I also really like waking up early all well rested and getting shit done. Is this because I’m 50 now? Is it because I’m studying psychotherapy and I overthink every behaviour of every being, myself most of all?
This is basically a blog post I’m not blogging. Maybe I’ll cut and paste to my blog. I should stop paying for that blog because I’m starting a new one soon.
Everything I write or say, I feel like adding the addendum ‘and I want a dog’. You know how some women (not all women) get baby hunger? I’ve got massive puppy hunger. Is puppy hunger what happens when baby hunger is no longer feasible?
Friends, this is what my head sounds like all the time. If you ask me “what are you thinking” the answer is, “so much”. So goddamned much.