Jour d'une vie où l'aube se lève...

Comme un enfant aux yeux de lumière
Qui voit passer au loin les oiseaux
Comme l'oiseau bleu survolant la terre
Vois comme le monde, le monde est beau

Beau le bateau, dansant sur les vagues
Ivre de vie, d'amour et de vent
Belle la chanson naissante des vagues
Abandonnée au sable blanc

Blanc l'innocent, le sang du poète
Qui en chantant, invente l'amour
Pour que la vie s'habille de fête
Et que la nuit se change en jour

Jour d'une vie où l'aube se lève
Pour réveiller la ville aux yeux lourds
Où les matins effeuillent les rêves
Pour nous donner un monde d'amour

L'amour c'est toi, l'amour c'est moi
L'oiseau c'est toi, l'enfant c'est moi

Moi qui ne suis qu'une fille de l'ombre
Qui voit briller l'étoile du soir
Toi mon étoile qui tisse ma ronde
Viens allumer mon soleil noir

Noire la misère, les hommes et la guerre
Qui croient tenir les rênes du temps
Pays d'amour n'a pas de frontière
Pour ceux qui ont un cœur d'enfant

Comme un enfant aux yeux de lumière
Qui voit passer au loin les oiseaux
Comme l'oiseau bleu survolant la terre
Nous trouverons ce monde d'amour
L'amour c'est toi, l'enfant c'est moi
L'oiseau c'est toi, l'enfant c'est moi

After The Storm

Lots of snow.

Looooots of snow.

Did I mention a little snow? The trench to go out the door goes up to my hips.


Rare, recent, candid picture of the Papou who's otherwise at the wonderful stage of making horrible faces any time he sees a camera pointed his way.


"What do you mean 'dignity'?" asks Luritja.

Sunday Snow Storm

Luritja is conserving energy.


When photographed, first look composed.



We're in the middle of a snowstorm. There's something very cosy about a snowstorm when you're warm and safe inside.

I got Yannick's two main Christmas presents on Ebay. It was on Nov. 11 and 13. I received notice of shipment yesterday, Dec. 15.

This means the presents won't be there on time for Christmas morning.

All I got were vague and lousy excuses. The M*** F*** of a seller (subsequentely refered to as MFS) offered a partial refund on the price of shipping, which has yet to materialize so I don't really believe it. And when confronted by email with the fact that I would have no presents for my boy under the tree, he suddenly went MIA.

I am so spitting mad at MFS that I could do him bodily harm. Rage, when without an outlet, is corrosive. Powerlessness only makes it worse. I am so angry it feels like molted iron.

On His Door

" No trespassing to all cookie eaters except me"

Restless

Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back - but nothing seems
to please

I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact

O Tannenbaum

In my house, we believe in tiny, understated Christmas decorations.


Nothing huge.


Like this small Christmas tree...

My Other Birthday Bouquet

And oh, sooooo fragrant it is...

A. R. F. N. F.

My birthday bouquet.

Renovations

My mother's quarters and stairs used to be covered in an ugly beige carpet.



Our wonderful handyman changed that for oak. Much nicer.

Daily Cats

Luritja keeps watch over the potatoes.
(Yes, my cats are finally coming out of the closet and their real names shall be used from now on.)



Male bonding.
(As intelectual as male bonding usually is.)



Luritja tries to deal with his hectic life.




Circe pouts.

Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'm going to post a few that are far from technical or artistic feats, but that are snapshots of my life, and revealing as such.



This, one would think, is an ordinary bathroom. WRONG! This is the spatious, gorgeous bathroom that has replaced the little dark hole that was there before, with an sinister unfinished ceiling, a square shower so tiny I couldn't even wash my hair and about a square foot of space to change. So this, in my eyes, beats the most luxurious, vast and expensive bathroom there can be.




Painted a sober and serene desert shade called Shiatsu, it's a pleasure to step in every time.

Une belle et grande... famille

When a black cat tells you it's time to update your blog... you just shut up and do it.

Yesterday, I learned of an interesting fact during an otherwise boring training session.
In Quebec, the current percentage of households composed of a father, a mother and two children (born of those two parents), in other words the traditional family model in Western societies is:

7 %


Do you see how meaningful that is? It means we continue to operate on a model of family and society that simply no longer reflects the reality, that has in fact become the exception! All the values, the traditions, the instruction, the economic factors should be reviewed to adapt to the new reality. I should stop feeling like a failure for not providing my son with the traditional model, I'm the norm!!! (Ok, I say this tongue in cheek)
But on a socio-economic level, and many others, I find that a very significant statictic.