Tuesday, December 07, 2010

What's in a name?

Names.
We all get one when we are born.
Sometimes two or three.
My name is Stephanie. I post as Stevie, because that is the name that most defined me for a long time. It is what my soul child Hayley-Bug calls me, and her mama, my dear friend Rachel... whom we all know as Rache.
Hayley could not really get her tongue around Stephanie.
Nor could my niece Margery when she was two or three, and to her, I was Dearie.
And still am today, when it comes down to it.
My Tony calls me Juliet.
My boys call me mom.
And Jeremy Stevens, my nephew by heart, to him I am Stepamy, for much the same reasons as Hayley. He just could not say my name when he was a wee gaffer.
My Tony is my love, my honeybunny.
Val is our Vally, Catherine is our Gypsy.
My boys are Scooter and Juster Buster to me.
My Darling Lovely, my Dearest Dru, my Wonder Twin... there are so many more people in my life I have my own name for.
What I am getting at is though we all have given names, so very often we create our own versions of them for the people we love.
I call one friend of mine Wil, because, I suppose, no one else really does, at least not that I am aware of. Of course, others could, but I doubt it. It is my name, the name of my friend, his first given name that he does not really use, a way to differentiate him, or perhaps myself, from the rest of the world.
My dear friend Peter, whom you have all heard about on my blog before, never called me Stephanie. To him, when I was his student, I was Stevens. His way, I suppose, to differentiate me from the others.
I cherish that.
It's funny, somehow, but though we are all so very formally given monikers, we find a way to make them ours. We don't change our own name, but that of others. To bring it all down to something quieter in our heart. To show that while we know the name on the driver's licence, there is something more to our version. Some secret message, of love or friendship, some part of ourselves we put into it.
There is so much in a name. And each one smells just as sweet.
Have missed you all... been so absent. Forgive me.
Yours, always,
Stevie.

Saturday, October 02, 2010

October chills me.

I am at a loss for words.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

for my Jiminy Cricket

Whilst doing a sexy fandango
(A lively spanish-esque-ish dance)
I happened to spy a wee Poncey
A most obsequious, they say, happenstance

You see a Poncey is a thing which I made up
Or at least that's what I like to think
And since I've no true frame of reference
To debauchery, for the most, I must sink

A sanctimonious creature I've made up
A plethora of sins they commit
But in truth just then I was envious
And aspired to be one... a bit

So well in my cups by this meeting
Callibogus is strong brew you see
I deked out the hoser I danced with
And made my way to the window with glee

Girding my pluck in (Ayn) Rand fashion
A diabolical plan came to mind
More than a little chaos would happen
And quiet the storm in my mind

But you will not guess that which now happened
As I dogged ballicatters in the storm of my soul
A bright light appeared upon my horizon
To make me rethink before selling self whole

As succinct as an angel she told me
(though a twinkle bedeviled her eye)
"That window slut holds no solution!"
And her words I should heed lest I sigh

My wonder twin spoke of an alternate
Another path my tormention could take
And if I would listen I might even
Keep it, and eat it, (my cake)

Her saucy hair swirled all around her
Framing that glorious face
She said "goodness girl, look for answers!
And get the hell out of this place!"

So now ends the story I've told you
As darkness digs deeper t'wards dawn
There's always more than one solution
And I really not need be his pawn.

With love,
Pinnochio

Sunday, September 05, 2010

Goodbye old girl...

Have had bits of this song flitting through my head ever since we spent our last day with our darling Cinder Dog before we had to make that last, heartbreaking visit to the vet, so finally had to look up the lyrics.

Smile though your heart is aching
Smile, even though it's breaking
When there are clouds, in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile, through your fear and sorrow
Smile, and there'll be tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through
If you'll....
Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear, may be ever so near,
That's the time, you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile,
If you'll just....
Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear, may be ever so near,
That's the time, you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile,
If you'll just....
Smile

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Aug 21, 2010

Cool today, blessedly so. The grass in the pastures making one last dash for freedom and growing again, alpacas happily keeping it at bay. The wheat, just a couple of short weeks ago green now golden and ripe, waving in the breeze as their heads rustle together. If you are very quiet, you can almost hear them whispering.
My son Scott was just here, making my feel almost complete, his brother headed out in a month to do the same. Can only talk on the phone with sweet daughter Hayley, but love the sound of her voice and her giggles when I am silly.
Tony is out mowing what the animals cannot reach, paperwork sits on the table for me to tackle once again. Who knew ranching would entail so much paperwork? Not me.
I can hear the rain starting, pitter pattering on the deck overhang, a comforting if sombre sound.
Friends and family near and far seem to call to me to visit or write, and I feel the urge to wrap them all in a huge embrace, thank them for being in my life, thank them for loving me, but most of all, thank them for giving me the opportunity to love them.
My soul drifts today, waxing and waning with each hour that passes, lingering on a thought, an urge, a memory.
Something deep in my heart stirs...

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Camping with the family!









ah... high speed land... that mystical place!

Ok a couple got on and now blogger is being weird! First is one of my family reunion (more on facebook) and a couple of baby alpaca shots!




Friday, July 16, 2010

Note to self.

Never, EVER, discuss religion with husband. Nothing good can come of this.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

a conversation with the cat.

"Cadie, nice cats to NOT drink out of the toilet."
Cadie flicks her tail and glares over her shoulder at me.
"Cadie, you do not even really live here. You are Daryl's cat. You live in the shop. You just visit here."
Again, the most disdainful of looks is directed my way. A stretch, a yawn, then Her Highness sets one leg delicately in front of her and begins to groom, wondering, no doubt, what makes me think I am not the interloper here.
"Cadie, come outside please. I have to get to work. I put nice dishes of cat food and water out there for all of you, even you ranch cats that are not really mine."
a cajoling "puss puss puss" gains a modicum of attention from the grand duchess of Amber Autumn Alpaca land.
A toss of her head, a flick of her tail, and she slowly gets up and walks past me, giving my leg a gentle nudge as she passes, a reminder that she tolerates me despite my eternal faux pas... that of course, is being human.
Heading towards the door requires winding through table legs, sniffing the mat, and sitting just in the doorway so I cannot quite close the screen.
"Cadie," I begin, and then, just sigh.
After all, nice humans do not consider themselves superior.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

oh... oh... no.

Dear Neil,

I am having a hard time really grasping the news that you are gone.
Just a few short years ago you came into my life via darling Cathy (somehow it seems more appropriate to use her given name just now, as well as her darling Gypsy moniker).

And I am having a hard time writing about you being gone. So, instead, I will write directly to you, with love.

Neil, you were so many things to so many of us.
So deeply intelligent, that much is obvious. But also so very witty, a bit of a wonderful wise-ass really, and creative. You made my crack up time and time again, and thank God Facebook was there after your blog went off-line. I am hoping it might still be resurrected somehow, a lasting tribute to be visited by us all, to laugh at, cry, be inspired to think by.
Your tenderness shone through on so many levels, a post here, a comment there. I have spent the time since I met Cathy and the others believing fully that one day, not so long away, I would travel to meet you all in person, and when the beau dear Gypsy loves so well sauntered into my life, I assumed you would just be there when I showed up at the flat above the Chinese take-away one day.
You will be, via her heart.
But I will miss your laughter that I have heard so many times in your words and in my head not being a part of that which I certainly will still share with Cathy and Chantal and the babes. But then again, perhaps I will not miss it at all. Perhaps, if we listen softly enough, we will hear it yet, echoed in years of love and oneness.

A part of me thinks that you just could not wait for the adventure that awaits us all at the point when life turns to something else. That you just HAD to go and see what awaits, to make sure it is all up to snuff.

I have not watched Val's video just yet... but I think it a good lead to follow, since you offered so many of your own to us. It will follow... when the inspiration is right. I know you can appreciate that.

Reading this over, my words seem too hollow, not enough.
But perhaps that is because I feel a little hollow right now.
What I wish more than anything is that I could fly to Trashington, to be there for our girl. And she is ours, isn't she? Funny. From blog to blog, never meeting in person, I could not mourn you more or feel more sorrow for Gypsy if we had met in person. You are, and will always be, as real and precious to me as the people I see and touch every day. What a brilliant gift you are to me. To us all.

Keep the kettle warming. We will all be there soon enough. Try not to get into too much mischief up there. I don't believe in hell, and even if I did, it would still be heaven for you me mate.

Talk soon.
Much love,
Stephanie

Monday, April 26, 2010

yippeee!

Babies! Babies are finally arriving!

Monday, April 19, 2010

wowzers

So, for no particular reason, I have been re-reading my blog posts and comments... though I am only up to mid 2007!
And I have come to a great realization:
you people have become my family. I almost hate facebook right now because it just does not allow for that... what is the word?... that... intimacy we have all shared, and still share, albeit a little more sporadically lately. I am ever so guilty of not being on enough, and I use the excuse of dial up far too often.
But in reading back, and especially your comments back and forth, bring to my mind a kitchen, one where we would all gather for coffee and talking and sharing and... and... so much love.
I guess what I am trying to say, is thank you... thank all of you. I, without reserve, love each and every one of you. You are my tribe, and I will never give any of you up.
We are all so busy these days, and I know we will have lulls and ebbs, but how very good it is to know you are all out there... just a keystroke away...
thank you.
xo
Stevie

Sunday, April 18, 2010

just because I liked the memory...

was re-reading some old posts... wrote this one in early 2007... and decided to repost it cuz... well I just like I the zone I was in when I wrote it.

When I refer to my Calgary, I speak of what it is I see when I walk down the street, or drive downtown very late at night.
Stephen Ave. is my first walk when I arrive, always. It takes as long as it takes, sometimes hours, but the stark, almost brutal contrasts that are always present make the artist in me thrill, the untrained social worker in me long to be doing more, and the philosopher in me wax poetic. I have taken photos of Stephen Avenue before, and no doubt will again.
My Calgary is CUPS, The Mustard Seed, The Salvation Army. It is the skuzzy downtown cafes and pawn shops. It is the old architecture, the decaying buildings on which you can still see the old words that advertised what the business was. It is the ghosts of better days on the façade of the Grand Theatre on Stephen Ave, the homeless, the hopeless, the hopeful, the street vendors. It is the man who today, professing to be a “real gypsy, 100 percent, not like those other guys” who read my tarot cards on a bench for $10, really just a good study of human characteristics saying what he thought I wanted to hear.
He watched me when I bought an old native man coffee a few benches down. Easy mark, that’s me.
After he read a few cards, he told me, I am “more man than any man will ever be, and more woman than any man could ever handle.”
I could care less if it is true or not, I am going to run with that one.
What really strikes me about that avenue is that absolute juxtaposition of so many worlds, of past and present, of rich and poor, stunning beauty and contrasting ugliness, of the good hearts and the ones who would happily relieve you of your wallet. More than any other spot I walk in Calgary, it is that Avenue that is my Calgary, so old, so new, so downtrodden in one step and upbeat on the next. There is a whisper on that avenue, one that speaks if you listen closely. But so few will, do, or want to. It tells of a thousand heartaches, even more of laughter, of lovers, and quarrels, and total despair and of unbridled passion. That avenue is like a secret preacher, speaking only to those who truly stop to listen, telling stories only told to a privileged few.
But in my own contrast, my Calgary is also sitting in Devonian Gardens, inhaling the heady, scent particular to greenhouses, earthy and moist. It is the little shops, like Art of My Heart, the owner of which, Howard, has never failed to remember me over the past 10 or 15 years of sporadic visits. It is the bartender at The Unicorn, Greg, who knows, even though I stop in only a few times a year, I drink Oban neat, I like the barstool at the far end corner, and he keeps the drunks away from me. Calls me young lady, like it is my title, though he knows my name is Stephanie. My Calgary includes art galleries, mostly on the Avenue mind you, and the theatres, the Glenbow Museum… still all on that avenue. It is CKUA instead of CJ92, it is The Unicorn at 11 p.m. on a weekday or The Auburn Saloon at 6 p.m. any day. It is in the faces I remember and the ones I will never forget. It is in the ones I will buy a coffee or sandwich for, and the ones I know may need help but are beyond me. It is the old man who walked with contented, aimless purpose ahead of me this morning, smoking his pipe, just going where he was going with no hurry or concern. I stayed a few steps behind him to inhale the fragrance of his pipe tobacco. It is the old woman, white hair down in an up-do with what must be a hundred cans of hairspray, decked out in her old fur, her makeup overdone in 1940s style, all that she owns that glitters on her neck, ears, fingers, her warped feet still thrust into shoes with heels, still carrying herself with a bearing of class and days gone by.
It is the little girl skipping on that brick avenue in the sun, her mother not far behind keeping a close eye on her.
My Calgary has become like a patient and ever forgiving lover, one that amazes me, makes me joyful, makes me weep, gives me both hours of hope and moments of despair, one that will always be there waiting for me, eternally patient and ready to take me in its arms to share its secrets, fill my soul, and bring me home.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

the road home all started with a contest...

"While it's just a fun contest - we start shooting Dragons Den in a month - I will likely be at 8,000 followers by then on Twitter - but Kevin Oleary is tracking about the same numbers and rate of growth. How do I get to 10,000 serious honest genuine followers before he gets to 8,000? Game on!"

So read the Facebook post by my friend Brett Wilson. I met B several years ago when he hosted a fundraiser for my youth centre. We forged a friendship, and keep in touch, albeit via email as he has joined the ranks of celebrity and we really do not travel in the same circles.
Anyhow, I figured, what the heck, and posted on my own Facebook for people to help Brett out.
My friend, and former publisher, Sheila wrote me a note the other day regarding this.
It read:
"So I was on Brett Wilson's webpage like you suggested and was checking out some of the links he has, other organizations he has helped out. I noticed a 'fuckcancer' bracelet and checked it out. I have corresponded with the designer and she is giving me one for our Kickoff party and any that we sell because of our promoting it, she will give us $50 per bracelet for the Relay. How great is that?"

I responded, "not just great, but fucking great!"
You see, Sheila beat breast cancer a few years ago, so raising money for cancer research via the Relay For Life (same event I shaved my head for a few years back) has taken a more personal note for her.
Then, after going to her page, (I so rarely go to individual pages as I am on dial up... poor excuse, I know), I realized she has cancer again.
And my heart fell.
Just now it is still falling... I will stiffen my spine and cowgirl up tomorrow.
Sheila and I had our moments of butting heads, one strong woman to another, but one thing I can be certain of is she is a woman I always want in my life, though I have moved away and rarely see her.
She is funny. She is strong. She is witty. She has a huge heart, and strong conviction. I have such respect for her.
She is a force to be reckoned with.
She is my friend. And she has cancer.
I am ordering a bracelet, and I am including the link if you want to see it... or order one yourself.
Funny, how a light-hearted contest for Twitter followers would be the thing that brought me back 'round to base, back to my roots, to friends I have left behind physically, but whom have not left my heart.
The world is a curious place... made all the richer for the presence of one Sheila Tutty.
Fuck Cancer Sheila. Fuck it.


"did the ol' head shave today. Took the grandkids with me and had a bit of fun with it. I did not know I looked so much like my brother, until I was bald. Clearly Tesslin doesn't care. She just kept rubbing my head and patting my cheeks. Aren't children wonderful?"
http://www.fcancerembracelife.com/

Saturday, April 10, 2010

heh heh.

the wind is blowing.
like, really blowing.
it makes me consider
buying a kite.

(I am pretending that is a poem.)

Instead, I will stay inside and bake bread today. and create some lovely stuffed pasta dish for dinner.

I know these can sometimes be overdone, but I am feeling frivolous today. I am going to list some questions, and tag all who read this to answer them... do the old copy and paste thing... pretty please?

I'll go first.

1) If you could go for a coffee with one friend, anywhere in the world, right now, that you have not seen for years, spend a few hours catching up, and just pop back home, who is the first person to come to mind?

Peter. Because if there is one person whom I know would enrich my soul today, that I could talk to for hours and listen to for hours, it would be him.

2) Do you truly find Seinfeld THAT funny?

Not really. EVERY character irritates me. And yet I still find myself watching it now and then. Weird. Must be subliminal.

3)If you could travel back in time, where would you go?

I'd really like to know the truth about Jesus. I am sure he existed, but was he really the son of God, or was he just a charismatic, incredible leader that inspired and continues to inspire?

4) If you could have one superpower, what would it be?

I usually say I would fly, but then I think breathing under water would be good because I am a really lousy swimmer. But flying wins out.

5) What makes you giggle?

When Tony says celery. It is just the way he says it.

6) Would you ever want to be famous? Would you trade privacy and risk being the target of the paparazzi?

No. well, maybe for a week.

7) What is the one talent you wish you had that you just cannot seem to cultivate?

Singing. Definitely singing.

Friday, April 02, 2010

your hands will tell you...

I look at my hands. Snarled up, scarred, callouses. Fingernails short by necessity, cuticles often stained purple with Cristol from treating one alpaca, or red from iodine after sterilizing the cord of a newborn cria. I like what I see. They are hardworking hands. Hands that while are not trained for a vet, do see their share of healing animals, delivering babies, reaching far into the dam if need be to untwist a baby's long neck or guide it down the birth canal. Hands that learned to run new equipment, shaking a little sometimes because the machine's power occasionally scares me. Hands that hold a rake, a pitchfork, that carry newborns into the green pasture to learn to stand and reach for mama's milk. I have rancher's hands.
Hands that reach for my husband's face as he makes me laugh day after day.
Hands that once, sometimes, were soft, nails long and painted, work of a different kind allowing for such cosmetic graces.
I think this way today, because I am blessed to have had so many opportunities in my life.
From waitress and chambermaid when I was young, waitress when I was older too, to landscaper, then journalist, writer, youth worker, photographer, ski tuner, running the deli at the Banff School of Fine Arts (what a way to be 17 that was!) grocery store clerk, and once, for a short two weeks, a door to door encyclopedia salesman. I never sold a single set. I was very bad at that job!
So many things, such variety. And still so many things to try! For now, ranching suits me though. I like this calling.
I do not think I am at all unique this way. You, reading this now, have surely had such variety in your life. Your hands tell stories, create them, mold them. As surely mine have.
Tell me your stories.... what one, what job or experience, or moment in general, do you hold in your hands?
I await with bated breath...

Thursday, March 25, 2010

so simple

it snowed again, for two days in a row.
then today, warmth.
and I found little green shoots in my garden.
a simple reminder, an important, and ever taught, lesson.
I smiled.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

if only if only.........

if only I could touch the stars
if only I could see your face
if only I could hear your voice beside me
my heart would not hurt so.

if only I could travel through time
if only I could fly through the sky
if only I could be there in the blink of an eye
my heart would not hurt me so.

but if only I had never had you
if only you were not part of my life
if only I had not seen you grow
my life would have no meaning

you are my sunshine and my rain
my sorrow and my greatest joy
my inspiration to be
and my hope to go on.

you are my greatest achievement
my most spectacular creation
my warmth, my laughter, my smiles
you are everything I aspire to be worthy of.

I miss you, no doubt
I think of you constantly, each day, each hour
you are filled with promise and future
and I never regret a moment I have had with you.

But in truth I do... regret harsh words and anger
In truth I cannot take back some things I have said
But you in truth, I know you will learn
From my mistakes in raising you.

Because in truth, you are my everything.
My every day.
My every wonder.
My darling loves...all three of you.

xo
Mom

Thursday, March 11, 2010

so....

how are you all doing?

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Don't you just hate it when you get a song in your head????

So long and thanks for all the fish
So sad that it should come to this
We tried to warn you all but oh dear?

You may not share our intellect
Which might explain your disrespect
For all the natural wonders that
grow around you

So long, so long and thanks
for all the fish

The world's about to be destroyed
There's no point getting all annoyed
Lie back and let the planet dissolve

Despite those nets of tuna fleets
We thought that most of you were sweet
Especially tiny tots and your
pregnant women

So long, so long, so long, so long, so long
So long, so long, so long, so long, so long

So long, so long and thanks
for all the fish

(yeah)

So long and thanks for all the fish
So sad that it should come to this
We tried to warn you all but oh dear?

(oh dear)

Despite those nets of tuna fleets
We thought that most of you were sweet
Especially tiny tots and your
pregnant women

So long, so long, so long, so long, so long
So long, so long, so long, so long, so long

So long, so long and thanks
for all the fish

Friday, February 19, 2010

Talk about taking your work home with you...



This is Khandi's Kotton, a cria whom, recently weaned, has become even more social. She had a rough start to life, and when she was first born I had to handle her a lot, bottle feeding, physiotherapy for her legs, an IPT transfer, etc. Tony decided to see if she would follow him into the house, and voila, Kotton came to visit!
She only stayed a little while, then went back out to her pen, following Tony like Mary's little lamb.
and PS
That sweater goes in the garbage! I most certainly DO NOT have a spare tire like that around my middle!

Friday, February 12, 2010

for today....

For today, I will remember, simply, that I am.
I am not sure why things happen to people, good or bad.
Karma, self fulfilling prophecy, bad luck, good luck, angels, demons, good choices, bad choices, hard work, hardly working, destiny, rewards, punishments.
Is it piety that allows rewards? Is it disbelief that holds reward back? How often do we ask "why do bad things happen to good people? Why do good things happen to those undeserving?" Who decides? What are the checks and balances? And who is the karmic tallyman anyhow?
But I have decided that things to not happen TO us. Instead, I think things, good and bad, just happen as we walk our path of life. Predestined? Who knows. But how we perceive events can alter if they really are good or bad, or perhaps, just indifferent.
I have spent a lot of time in my life wondering why things have "happened" to me.
And especially when they are not happy things, it puts me directly on the path of playing the victim.
The last few years I have been trying to think differently, find the good in everything that happens in my life, or in the lives of those I know and love, even when those things really suck.
The last few days I have been tested a little. Allowing the fears and doubts that plague us all from time to time to to gain the upper hand is always a risk, for some more than others, but it happens in all our lives at some point.
But are fears and doubts really totally negative?
Fears and doubts make us think things through a little more, and as long we don't let them take over and just be fears and doubts, perhaps they can be teachers, their own positives not as overtly obvious as the more impetuous happinesses that also occur.
Like the teachers that don't give the easy A, the darker moments have a lesson to teach. The teacher that made you work harder, try a different method, change your thinking process to arrive at an answer we might not have arrived at had it all been candygrams and laughter.
Where am I going with this?
I have no idea.
Just working it out with words I guess.
My daughter's death taught me about love, about scrappiness, about not wasting time fearing the inevitable but embracing the time given and rejoicing we were given it at all.
The youth centre tested my every fibre at times, especially at the end, when people I trusted turned out to be less than worthy of said trust.
But there it is.
If I ignore the lesson, the scrapes and bruises were for naught.
And really, were those scrapes and bruises really all that bad?
Maybe not.
There will be more lessons. More candygrams as well as more bitter moments.
But in the end, when I tally my own philosophical books, I think things will tip in a positive balance. Just enough sweet, not too much sour, and plenty riches, the kind that don't show up in your bank account.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Voices

Some of you have been subjected to this in the past when I was in the editing stages, but I came across the cd I have been meaning to send to Brett and thought this might be a easier.
It was made as a thankyou to a man who, with his company, held a brilliant fundraiser for the youth centre that literally, at that point, saved it from closing the doors.
Miss the kids... both mine and the ones I worked with... and ps, I am ready for spring now please.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

:(

Justin went home.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

oh dear Lord...

so, um that photo of me and MM in our bras is going to the January in the Sexy Bra Club Calendar.

Sunday, January 03, 2010

new blog to check out!

Please accept this invitation to take a gander at my niece Miss Margery's newest blog, www.losingplastic.blogspot.com
I am most proud of this young woman. Not one to sit on her laurels, that's for certain!

Saturday, January 02, 2010

one for Val to laugh at!


ok, so, my FABULOUS niece Miss Margery joined a sort of fabulous bra sisterhood, and has been traipsing around this country and that snapping photos of herself in fun places in... you guessed, her bra!
Of course a snow laden alpaca farm was just the place for such a shot! So here we are, in Pen One, braving the elements for my first such pose with her!
LOL!
(Gotta say, sure wish I had her abs!)

CANADIANS DON'T FEAR WINTER.... WINTER FEARS CANADIANS!