A Meandering Mann

Years ago a friend asked me why, in British TV shows, people always closed the door when they entered or left a room.  It reminded me of something that was glaringly obvious to me when I first arrived in Canada, but after a while got used to, as we do.  The flagrant use of energy in Canada.  The doors are closed to keep the heat in the room.  Only rooms being used are heated in Britain.  So the living room would be heated, but the hallway would not.  Open the door and a draught blew into the heated room.  And why?  Because energy in Britain, in all of Europe, is very much more expensive than we are used to paying in Canada.  I remember being shocked at the oblivious use of electricity, the size of the vehicles, and the glorious heat in all the rooms.  Growing up it was second nature to conserve energy and still is here.  Today, Martin, my sister Jane’s partner pointed out to me the markers inside the electric kettle denoting the levels of water for 1, 2 or 3 cups of coffee or tea.  It continues here, but we have had to be trained in Canada, and the screams of bloody murder about the increase in “hydro” have always seemed a bit self-indulgent, but I guess if something has always been cheap you expect it to continue, even if it is unrealistically cheap.  But enough of that soap box, on to another one.  The practices around selling land.

My nephew Lucien picked me up from the airport and we drove to his new property near Fairy Hill, Compton Dando, North Somerset.  That is what it is called, I kid you not, you can look it up, preferably not on g**gle.  It is a beautiful piece of property, and the view is magnificent, across rolling hills.  For some reason I did not take any pictures, but I am going back in a few days.  He explained to me that a previous owner, not even the one that he bought from I think, put a covenant on it.  The covenant is in place until 2029.  This particular covenant enables the previous owner to benefit financially if the land is developed and the value increased as a result.  I am not sure how this would be enforced, do they visit once a year to inspect the property?  Or do they use g**gle earth to keep an eye on it?  It gets madder.  Lucien’s uncle, Jonathan bought a property around the country corner from Jane.  The property had been owned by the Flucks, a lovely couple that died after long lives, but childless.  A nephew inherited.  He severed 6 square feet of land from the property so that he could put in an objection to the planning committee if the new owner developed the part of the property on the opposite side of the road from the house.  He had never ever lived there, but felt this was necessary.  By the way, he does not have to pay tax on his 6 square feet.  Taxes are not payable on undeveloped land.  I wonder who he will leave it to, a hobbit?

Off to meet my great nephew Ruben tomorrow…..

What better way to say goodbye to a house full of memories and love, as well as some loss and pain, to take the edge off the jolt of the finality of stepping out of it one last time, than to be silly.  So my wonderful “packsters” and I were.

Hugs in the kitchen. Sue behind Katherine

Katherine and I in the living room. We can almost touch both walls of my 12’6″ wide house

Never seen the basement this empty. We could dance a jig

Boy, that basement worked hard for me.  For a long time it housed Plant Life, my aromatherapy and massage therapy products company.  Many an essential oil  and massage lotion were poured, mixed, packed and shipped from here.  There was an invoicing computer and a labelling computer and lots and lots of bottles, boxes, packing peanuts.  You could not see a patch of bare wall.

The transformation of the basement from dingy to bright was entirely due to Wilbert, my real estate agents’ partner.  The neatest, quietest person you could wish for working in your house.  Another person that Zoey charmed, and he charmed her when she visited the basement to inspect progress.  He would get her dancing, and her eyes would be bright with glee.

Upstairs we go. I always loved this staircase, and it was the best place to display art

Katherine, lying where her bed was many moons ago when she lived here

Sue in the closet, but only for a moment

They made me do it, they made me do it, honestly.  Glad it is dark

Do I even need an office now that I am retired?

A lovely young family have bought the house, including a new baby boy born between the purchase and the closing.  They toured through last Saturday with some family members, and I am pretty sure they are excited about moving in.  Ready to make it their own.  I couldn’t be happier that they are the ones who bought it.

How do you say thank you enough to people that have given days of their lives to helping you get ready for this day? Words seem futile to express my gratitude.   My three sisters travelled from England to help me sort, mentally for me the hardest parts of this.  What to save, what to give away, what to throw away. It is so hard to throw away an item that has served you well but now really has no usefulness to anyone else.  Sue ferried many a truck load of stuff to my garage in Owen Sound on her way home from work, and Katherine and Sue were with me for the final two days, working tirelessly.  It was hard to get them to stop and eat.  But thankful I am for all their help.  And the lighthearted fun so that I could walk out of the door

As my new departure date draws near, November 4th instead of December 12th, the full implication of what I am doing is bearing down on me, or is it bearing me up, or just carrying me along.  Chapters of my life are ending and new ones beginning at the same time.  Just like normal life really, but highlighted at this moment, for me anyway, because so much is ending and beginning, and not so much continuing.   Except for the long threads of friendship, family and memory that wind through me and are my foundation.  Yes, I am thinking of things in such terms at this moment, even if it does sound grandiose.

So, I am in the middle of taking down the walls of my life, ending my 35 year long massage therapist career, teaching career, habitation at 72 Hastings Avenue.

Clematis: Fireworks, on the garden arch

Saying goodbye, at least for now, to friends with whom I have had breakfast most Saturday mornings for nearly 16 years, my Monday night knitting group, my Friday night dinners with Katherine, walking Zoey and my previous dogs at Ashbridges Bay and lots of other wonderful events and connections.

But I am also building a new foundation.

“My” tree at Ashbridges Bay. Much photographed through all seasons.

Or I should say a few new foundations.  In my mind the one and a half story garage in Owen Sound is already transformed into a workshop with bigger windows, great lighting, and heating, so that I can use it all year.

Can’t seem to picture edit tonight, and display needs some work, but it is a beginning

There are stations on both floors that are ready for me to work with wool and make felt, make jewellery from stones I have collected, or will collect in the future.

Pebble beach I would love to visit again near my brothers home.  What great colours.  What great pickings

Pebbles and pearls

And of course, make things out of leather because I am attending Scuola del Cuoio, School of Leather, in Florence next summer.

The leather workshop that grabbed my attention

Or making things out of felt, pebbles and leather and who knows what else, all in one piece.

And holding workshops, and asking others to come and teach, and and and.  As far as the mind can imagine.

But that is jumping ahead.  Between now and then there is a whole year.  I am delighted and awed that friends and family are joining me on my adventure.  Over the last few weeks I have met with  family and friends, and have more to come, to look at maps, talk about routes, investigate the logistics of getting together.  No easy task when I am floating down a canal with no fixed address.  I am honoured that people are creating trips for themselves, creating a curve in their lives to meet up with the curve of my life, both on the boat and in Florence.  These days I often think about a pebble dropping in a pond and ripples that it causes.  The effect on many lives that one event can have.  This, I hope, is a happy pebble, causing happy ripples.

Do I sometimes worry about the changes I am making.  About leaving my home,

White clematis, don’t know the name. Harbinger of summer

friends, community, the street party I helped to create, the wide circle of friends that weave into and enrich the fabric of my life.  Yes, I do.  But one thing is certain about life, it is always changing, whether we like it or not.  So I could hold on tight to the way things are, or jump off into a different future.  So I am packing up my house, and packing my bags.  Making room for jewellery tools, canal books, maps and maps and maps.  Of England, but also Europe for the drive to Florence after arriving by ferry in Amsterdam.  I am scared, a little intimidated, but ready, although sad that my much loved canine companion, Zoey, will not be with me.

Addendum.

It seems as though I develop the blog in my mind, and sit and write it in one shot.  I edit a bit the next day, but I am no grammar expert or linguist so this is my best effort.  That aside I had to add that over the last while Toronto has felt claustrophobic, too much going on.  On my street and back alley two garages have been built, two houses roofed (one accompanied by  loud obnoxious music), a front garden landscaped with diggers and saws cutting stone.  It has felt hard to get away from the noise and intensity, extra traffic and dirt.  As if to kick me on the ass as I am leaving Toronto, a jack hammer started up on Hastings at 7 am this morning.  No retirement  sleep for me!

Zoey did not survive the injuries she sustained when she dislocated her left hip and the events that followed.  For two days she seemed to improve and then she went down hill.  The vet suspected an ulcer caused by the pain and anti-inflammatory medication, and we began treating that.  However, she lost ground all afternoon on the fifth day after the initial injury , could not stand on her right leg, and was extremely lethargic.  Her death was unexpected and a deep shock, and the vet believes it was unrelated to the hip dislocation or ulcer, possibly a blood clotting disorder, but has no definite answer because there was no autopsy.

Zoey was two days shy of her twelfth birthday when she died, but in her heart and in her head she was not an old girl.  She was still full of the joy of living and enjoying it to her fullest.  Greeting people at the front door with delight, especially if she knew and loved them, and she loved many, as they did her.  She seemed to know if it was a loved one behind the closed door as she was extra happy and excited in anticipation.  She played gleefully with Katherine when Katherine would hide when she arrived.  Zoey would jump, and twirl, be patted, run for a drink of water, come back and repeat.

She loved everything about being a dog.  Famous for chasing bicycles, and even catching a few, she had a record with the city.  You could see the moment she lost her mind and begin to run after her prey with me screaming and running behind her, deaf to any commands.  Of course this led to more time on a leash, and me seeking safe places for her to fully exercise.  But I loved my walks with her as she and I explored the world.  Me usually visually, her by olfaction.  When it snowed she would sniff from paw print to paw print of other dogs and animals, one at a time.

Zoey was a great traveller.  We have done many long road trips together, Quebec and Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, and Sioux Lookout.  The next big trip was the one coming up, the canal boat and then Italy, and not having her as my companion has taken some of the shine away, at least for the time being.  But she will be with me in spirit.

Which ever room I was in, there she was.  A constant companion wherever we went.  Content to be together.  I will miss her so much.  She is buried in Owen Sound next to the graves of the beloved pets of my dear friend Sue and her partner Leslie, but she is in my heart forever.

My plans have been unfolding as I had envisioned they would over the last few months. I retired from Centennial College in June, and had the summer and fall to finish planning my upcoming trip, pack up my house, sell my house and be ready to leave in December. All three of my sisters have been to Canada to help me sort and pack my house, an undertaking that I knew I would need serious help with, and they really moved me along.   Helping to pull things out from the farthest reaches of closets, drawers and cupboards.  Helping me decide if I needed the item, or should it be recycled, donated or thrown away.  Decision after decision.  But by the time that Sally left, the final sister to visit, the job was just about done, even to the point that I  know what I will be wearing for the next year.  The rest is packed away.

But life has a habit of throwing curve balls.  Friday, August 31st was a large day.  Three unrelated events occured.  Zoey, my almost 12 year old poodle dislocated her left hip and it was put back in place somewhere in the early hours of the morning.  I think she must have been on my bed and when she heard me return home she jumped down.  Unfortunately all my rugs are out being cleaned, and being an old dog she slipped on the hardwood floor.  I think she did the splits.  It was several hours before it was treated, and it was 5 am before I got to bed.  Up at 8 to take her outside and try to get her to pee.  Later that day the house was shown to potential buyers, a lovely young couple expecting a child soon.  Imagine me trying to get the house and my head ready for that!  The third event was performing my last therapeutic massage treatment.  I have been a therapist for 35 years, almost to do day, and now I am done.  All except sending in my resignation letter.  However, because of the events of the day, it seemed like a footnote to the day, not the main event.  But it was the passing of an era in my little life

Flash forward to Monday, September 3rd.  Another large day.  Zoey had been making steady progress, had been eating, drinking, peeing, and finally this morning a poop.  She also stood up and supported herself on three legs and started to walk around unaided, but I think she has overdone it, and is very quiet now.  No food, no drinking and no walking.  My worry scale has increased again, and back to cautious wait and see.  The second event of the day was my massage table left my treatment room.  Not only am I not doing massage any more, I no longer have anything to do it on, but it has gone to a great new home.  Another ending.  And finally, the couple came back to see the house and I am waiting to hear if they are interested in proceeding.  Pins and needles.

And so it goes.  Two events, the ending of the practice and the house sale were planned, but the dislocation, not so much, and a bit overwhelming to happen over one long weekend!

When I read 1984 back in the early 70’s I, like everyone else, had no idea that Big Brother would not in fact be the Government, but would be Big Business.  Government is a late comer to using the power of algorithms.  How many of us could actually define, with any great confidence, what an algorithm actually is.  I couldn’t, but I don’t like their insidious intrusion into my life, and every day I am more convinced about it as I read and listen to current affairs podcasts and radio.  I want to be more anonymous and roam freely in this world without being tracked so closely.

So what am I willing to do about it?  Good question.  Seems to me that G**gle is a front runner in terms of knowing way too much about me.  Their search engine tracks everything I look at, their mail server tracks who knows what about who I contact and what I say to them.  Yikes, it feels creepy.  So de-g**gle.  Not so easy.  This blog is written on WordPress.  When I investigated getting my own email through them, low and behold, they have a deal with g**gle to provide a suite of tools to supplement the ones that you get from WordPress, including email and cloud space and word processing and spreadsheets and blah blah blah.  I pulled right back from that and searched a little deeper.  I can get my own dedicated email, and I can direct it to another email server.  But which one?  My email is their email!  So maybe the best that I can do is spread being tracked by algorithms over a variety of Big Businesses.  So expect a new email shortly, one that I am going to try and keep personal and only give to friends like you that will not spam me.  It will serve another purpose for me as well.  I would prefer to get emails back from you rather than a comment on the blog so I will add putting my email on the bottom of the blog to the list of things I still have to learn.

If you have got this far in reading this blog here is a reward, or at least I hope so.  You really are invited to the Hastings Ave street party on June 9th.  If you have kids come along any time after 3 so they can enjoy all the kid activities including charging up and down the street on bikes, scooters, skateboards.  Participating in the water balloons.  Taking dress up selfies, taking part in the badminton tournament.  Watching the talent show and movie under the stars later.  If you don’t have kids come for the potluck and BBQ.  The idea is to add to the potluck and bring your own BBQ food.  Listen to the live music, take dress up selfies, take part in the adult badminton tournament or just relax with a beverage.  I would love to see you.

I have lived in Toronto since 1976, and I have lived in my present home since my birthday in 1998. Now I will be moving out of my home in the fall or early winter and I am 99.99999% sure I am will not live in Toronto upon my return to Canada in 2020.

When I bought my house it was a wreck. Broken windows, broken toilet, knob and tube wiring (for non-Canadians that means the house was not insure-able until replaced), the stove was removed as part of the deal, it was so disgusting, and it took me three hours to clean the fridge. Not surprisingly, when the heat was turned on to ensure it was working before closing the deal, the dead mouse under the kitchen cabinet began to smell. The house was a blank canvas, and as I could afford it, I upgraded it, and have created a home that is a very much a reflection of my taste and of my values. Floor heating and radiators instead of forced air, solar hot water, triple glazed windows, hand made cooper panels surrounding my sliding glass doors to the garden, a curved oak kitchen ceiling, back splash tiles I made in a pottery workshop. Lots of art, and a wild, crammed full of plants garden.  Twenty years of ideas, dreaming and creating my home. Now I must dismantle it, pack it away for over a year, and return the house colours to neutral to rent or sell. And grey is the new neutral. At least it is more acceptable than taupe.

Leaving a house is one thing, leaving people who are part of the fabric of my life, and with whom I share emotional ties is another. That is taking more courage than I thought. So many connections, some that are so deep they will continue no matter where we are, others that add greatly to the richness of my life but who knows how they will weather in the long run. This is even hard to write about, the words are not flowing easily. I think it why this blog is so important to me to actually do, not just think about. To stay in touch in what I hope is a meaningful way. And I hope it is a two way street, communications going in two ways.  We now have a street party and I am one of the group that organizes it. What a lot of fun we have had at the meetings, and many a bottle of wine consumed doing so. Every other Monday night I knit with 5 other women, and have a group therapy session, supporting each other through life’s ups and downs.  Every Saturday I have breakfast with a group of 10 or more people that I originally met walking my dog Sophie down at Ashbridges Bay.  We have celebrated many things together, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, and very notably, two European vacations to France and then Italy to celebrate 50th birthdays’ of Mario and Vicki, several years apart.

Leaving a city it yet another thing. I have lived in Toronto for 42 years, mostly east of Yonge, 20 years in the Beach, and 20 years in Leslieville as Leslieville has become a hot desirable area.  My street, Hastings Avenue, has been transformed.  When I moved in there was a crack house two doors down, rooming houses, a hooker up the street, and a murderer caught in the attic of the house next door.   It has changed.  This week a detached brick house was offered for sale at $1,340,000.  It sold in three days, in a supposedly slow market, for $1,777,077.  Its address: 77 Hastings.  There were few children on the street when I moved in, now it is bursting with kids as the couples moved in, renovated houses and had children.  It is locally known as Gastings as so many of our houses have been bought by gay men and lesbians.  Three of the families with kids are lesbian households.  Toronto has grown up in the years that I have lived here.  When I first arrived it was not a cultural backwater, but it was not what it is now, a thriving, multicultural, artistically diverse city with more to do in one summer weekend that can be done in a year.

The die is set.  Wheels are in motion.  The house is changing.  My office is now grey, not yellow, my red banister is gone, painted white.  Much of my art is packed.  I am glad it is happening slowly, so that I can detach myself emotionally over a period of time rather than abruptly, which I know works better for me.  And there is one last street party that I am a part of organizing.  Saturday June 9th.  You are all invited.  Come by in the evening for some live music by local band The Dogooders and a pot luck supper.  See you then, I hope.

p.s. more pictures in future when I can figure out how to put them in.

The long and the short of this posting is to ask you to sign up for my blog.  So if you want to here is the address:  www.madebymann.ca.  If you want the back story, read on….

Recently I added a few more addresses to the email list that I use to send out, from time to time, my, I think, quirky maybe even insightful, observations while travelling.  The email program politely told me that as the list had now reached one hundred people some mail servers would not forward the messages.

I have really enjoyed talking to my friends this way.   I began doing it in Ghana, Africa, when I was overwhelmed by all the plastic in the environment from all the single servings of things sold everywhere.  Single servings of laundry detergent, cookies, peanut butter, sugar, you name it.  And why?  Because of poverty.  It is more affordable than full size packages.  It felt like an interesting thing to talk about to people I care about.  And I loved hearing back.  It helped me stay in touch with friends,  from different parts of my life.  It helped me feel connected while travelling.  Now I am retiring,  planning a really big trip, more than a year in length, and very probably a change of location when I return to Canada.  So I really want to feel connected!  And I want to communicate.

What to do, what to do.  Make a second list and send out two sets of emails?  Take people off the list that I didn’t think really wanted the emails in their inbox?   I had recently asked if anyone wanted to be removed, and no one actively did, even if they thought it.  Or take a big step and begin a blog.

I can honestly say that blogging has never really been a form of communication that I indulged in.  It seemed too complicated, or at the least, a diversion from the communication media I used, but I found myself thinking about it.  A friend had used a blog for an extensive trip around the U.S. with a tear drop shaped miniature sized camper trailer, and an email plopped into my email inbox letting me know there was a new one to read, and a link to it.  Now that was something that I could get on board with.  So a while later, with some help from that friend, I now have a blog.  And yet another software learning curve is beginning, and I am floundering around like a fish out of water.  But trusting that I can and will get it.  That I will one day feel confident that I know what I am doing, and how to do it, but I have a ways to go yet.  Did you get a strange link on facebook?  That was a mistake.  Didn’t know I had pressed the publish button.  There will be pictures, once I take them, and hopefully some interesting factoids that will keep you reading.

So please follow me.  I feel like the Pied Piper saying that.  And choose the option for an email to let you know when a new post is posted.  Then, as before, you can choose to read it, or not!

Thanks for joining me!