Bucket List 6-10

6. Get over my fear of snakes by staying in Australia or any of the countries in earlier postings.
7. Get more singing lessons.
8. Ride in a hot air balloon.
9. Hike the Chilkoot Trail in the Yukon up to Dawson City.
10. Sing in a nightclub.

Count on it, I'll be coming up with more.
11-15 coming up tomorrow.

Bucket List

I do not plan to kick the bucket anyday soon, but I have constructed a list of all things (so far) that I want to achieve or try in my life.  I sometimes get diverted but it's always there in the back of my mind.  Here they are, as I said, so far:

1. Ride a camel.
2. Ride a horse (I have ridden a horse...I just want to ride more often).
3. Stay in a yurt for a few weeks and write about what's like.
4. Cut a cd.  (If Susan Boyle can do it, so can I).
5. Ride an elephant (in India or Africa).


I have many others, but I have to go get ready for a dinner party.  Stay tuned!

Open Your Eyes

I'm still haunted by it.  The sound of voices all over the ICU ward, "Open your eyes, Jason!", "Open your eyes, George" and etc.  I also wanted your eyes to open but who could know the peace that lay behind your closed lids.  I hope it was peace.  After your body became exhausted by it's convulsions, your new heart valve beating strong, you were no longer the man with his bright eyes and beautiful smile.  You left me on Saturday although your body quit on Easter Monday.

I promised I'd move on, as hard as it was.  I was hoping you'd open your eyes and say, "Kidding!"  It would be a sick joke in many ways, but at least you'd still be with me. 

I see beauty all around me, the gorgeous green and blue of the ocean, bald eagles, rabbits and racoons.  I'm finally opening my eyes to beauty instead of keeping them closed, protecting myself against the reality you are no longer there.  You once wondered in anger, "do I make any difference to you?"  Oh, yes, you do and did.  My shell, which was tough and determined to stay on, is coming off and I'm seeing the sun again and it feels warm.

Signs of the Future (title for now)

I was exhausted...but not in a bad way.  I had just came from a workshop called "Learning for Life: Web-based Skill-Building Modules".  It was a job skills workshop that left me both exhausted.and exhilherated!

Most of the workshops that I have or will go to have two times: one, for the deaf and one, (in the afternoon) for the hard of hearing.  That afternoon, the facilitator signed the whole workshop and an interpreter was on hand to interpret Karen's spirited signing and for those of us (only two) who were hard of hearing and didn't understand ASL (American Sign Language).  That will be yet another course I want to take and am already trying (when I can) to practice some of it.

Was there silence in that little room?  Oh, no!  It was actually pretty noisy and exciting.  When you get six people signing all at once(including the interpreter), it's very noisy!  Donna also signed anything I or Joanna wanted to ask or say. 

I looked back and forth between Karen and Donna, trying, alternatively, to listen to Karen and to read Donna's lips.

I'd been to many employment skills workshops since my youth, but nothing, nothing, came close to today's feeling of wanting to be prepared for work.  I felt validated, hearing the stories of other people's struggles with employment; for instance, bosses that don't want to take the time or trouble to listen a little longer or provide what could help the employee perform their job better.  It was also good to hear that I wasn't the only one, where people just assumed I could read lips.  I do better than I used to, but I still have a ways to go and need to ask repeatedly what people say.  Some say "just talking to myself" or "never mind."  They don't help with communication.  I really want to hear what people say.

I still have over a week of more workshops and look forward to them all!  It is so empowering to be around so many great people with different ranges of hearing loss.  The facilitator can drive!  I know, I shouldn't be surprised, but one of the reasons I've held off on getting my license is my inabiltiy to hear some sounds behind me.  If Karen can do it, so can I!

Kitsilano High

I am at Arbutus Coffee on Arbutus and West 6th.  I'm sitting on a bench at a wobbly table outside the coffee house.

I'm trying not to get a free high from the fellow around the corner smoking weed.  Luckily, he is away from the main entrance of the coffee house.  Because I am going, in an hour, to the Western Institute for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing, I don't want to be even slightly stoned.  That stuff is pretty potent--I still smell it. 

My table is right across the street from another old building, probably a store in the original incarnation, now set up as apartments. It has bay windows and has been maintained well by whoever owns it with great respect for the time it was built. 

Talk about a high--I"m looking at a side of Arbutus with a long row of cottage-style old homes, mature trees, and a pinscher cross, who trots happily towards me even though he is on a leash.  He becomes a friendly companion for a short time and I pet him, his intelligent eyes looking up at me.

There are modern apartment buildings in this area as well, but they do not grab my imagination or yearning.  Then again, anything to someday live here, sitting outside a coffee house, feeling high without weed.

Renewal on the Water

Sitting on a bench on Kitsilano Beach,

not wanting to move.

I'm afraid of missing something.

I can't be everywhere; I just want to be here...for the moment at least.

The slapping of balls by palms or fists over volleyball nets (several games at once),

Bare feet dancing and hopping in the sand, trying not to let the ball fall.

The salty, fishy smell of the beach and the people not caring what time or even what day it is.

I don't want to leave this haven in the city, where a young man pulls out his guitar, adding to the music of the sea.

Container ships wait in the bay, companions to the smaller boats --- sailboats, kayaks, and water taxis, and...unfortunately, power boats that scar the smoothness of the water.

Thankfully, I can't hear the ugly, macho-driven speed monsters.

Luckily, the sound of guitar strumming, chatter of power-walkers, and laughter of children are drowning it out!

Walking on Water or Flying?

I cannot truly say what attracts me to this picture. Is it the young man's body as he seems to effortlessly fly across the water?  I watched him for quite a while.  His arms stretched out in different directions, he could almost be a bird in the sky surfing the clouds.  Somehow, he reminds me of the Silver Surfer I'm sure I've seen in some comic books.  He seems like he's holding the sky and the twinkling water in his control.  While I'd never do it, skimming across the small pools of water seem like walking on water.