On Introversion

On Wednesday, I returned home from 6 glorious days in the Canadian wilderness. Just 4 friends, 2 canoes, a bunch of lakes, and no watch adorning my arm. This is our 4th journey together, the friendships growing stronger each year. For each of us, it represents, from slightly different angles, a break from the reality of every-day routines. Most summers, it represents a relaxing canoe trip for me after being "in charge" on multiple other trips.

Fall was in the air, and all of us pulled out our jackets, toques, and socks at one point or another over the 6 days. The nice thing about late August is that the days can still be lovely and warm, so it was just a matter of waiting a few hours and then finding a sheltered spot in which to warm up and eventually leap into the lake. And leap we did. Diane and I spent hours swimming or just floating on our backs staring at the beautiful sky. I also lept out of the canoe at one point (I've always wanted to do that!) as we paddled across a lake. Every day (while standing in the warm sunshine) we talked about doing a night swim under the stars. Our last night on the island, Diane and I actually got outside to contemplate a night swim, but the chattering of my teeth and the rapid jiggling of my kneecaps brought that thought to a rapid end.

There was lots of laughter, wine, chocolate, naps, good food, a few tears, great conversation, swimming, staring, laughing, drinking of wine and strong coffee, paddling, and a few attempts at converting the two canoes into a sailboat. There were two tents, one hammock, and two people who snored.

There was safety and a rich feeling of goodness. As we celebrated communion on the rock beside the water, there was deep joy in the pleasure of serving one another. Support and reminders that we journey together, that we are designed to need and help one another.

Three of us are introverts, the fourth an extrovert. Last summer, someone brought a book called The Introvert Advantage. We devoured it and learned a lot about the plus side of being introverted, about how crowds of people either drain or replenish our energy. I have since enjoyed and celebrated being an introvert, and now offer no apology when I head up the stairs to my third-floor retreat to be alone. I am also developing an understanding of how wonderful it is to be silent in the company of good friends.

The canoes are now at rest, the camping supplies stowed for another year, and we are back into "real" life with more wonderful memories to sustain us.

Being alone in great company.

Introversion

Heart, soul, and mind

Being human is complicated. Being human, and living with a bunch of other humans, makes it much MORE complicated.

We think with our brains, but feel with our hearts. I tend to fall to the extreme of the logical side; thinking too much at times, liking things that work out like math. If "X" is true, then "Y" will follow.

But words are tricky devils. Taken on their own, delivered black and white like a bunch of letters on a paper, they mean one thing. When delivered by real people, with emotion, the same words take on a life of their own, sending intended and unintended messages to the receivers.

My head knows that. My heart, however, can go wild with possibilities and cause me no end of pain and sadness when words come at me in what I perceive to be personal attacks.

It's hard to get the head connected with the heart, to really feel what you know to be truth.

That's where love comes in. Words spoken in love have a completely different power that is capable of bringing healing and peace. Of making the heart and head connect.

Lucky are we who are loved.

Lessons to learn over and over again

Smell the roses

Feed the ducks

Shingle Envy

I live in a "mixed" neighborhood. At least it used to be mixed..... we are definitely on the way to becoming pretty middle-class. What makes me happy about that is that I no longer wake up to the sounds of inebriated neighbors leaving their weekend parties at 4:30 a.m., we no longer dodge broken beer bottles on the sidewalk, the police drive by less frequently.

What makes me sad about the transition is that the police drive by less frequently, I feel like a snob for liking the middle class better, and a bit of sadness that we can't just live together.

But on to the topic of the blog. Shortly after buying this house, it became painfully clear that the roof was in very bad shape. (I came home from work one day to find that the soffit and fascia had fallen off one side of the house. I hired someone to redo it, and he came off his ladder shaking his head. The rafters were so badly rotted that there was nothing to attach new soffit and fascia to.)

AFter a few years of research and freaking out over the cost of such a project (old house, steep roof) I secured financing and got it done. New rafters, sheeting, the whole nine yards. While we were at it, I got them to change the roofline to give me more room on the 3rd floor, and added a half-bath up there.

I chose shingles with the longest possible warranty - if I have to spend this much money, I want the most possible bang for my buck.

My next-door neighbor is a semi-self-employed contractor who does home renovations. He recently took a job with the roofing company that supplied and installed my shingles.

Like the proverbial shoe-maker's children without shoes, my neighbor's house is in a sad state. He has covered much of it with vinyl siding, but has not made it to his roof yet. The blue shingles are missing in large patches, revealing old wooden shakes. The blue shingles are frequently found in my flower beds or sidewalk after a good rain.

When we meet outside and have our neighborly chats, he rarely fails to turn and look proudly at my shingles. He tells me who made them (I have no idea,) how extensive the warranty is, and that his employer is the only company in this city to carry this particular product.

I'm happy that he's so pleased with my shingles.

Shingle envy.