The Devil's in the Details

It's Tuesday, it's Spring-like, and this young man's fancy is not turning to thoughts of love, it's turning to sinks and faucets, and granite and stone, and tile and sinks...

And don't forget lighting. That's on my list too. Recessed pot lights, and a few hanging pendants over the island; under cabinet fluorescent strips; and what about the front entryway? Did someone say Sun Tunnel? How about sky-lights?

It's enough to make your head hurt - even if you weren't migraine prone.

And let's not begin to discuss sinks, and why they are half the price of your new stainless steel, side-by-side refrigerator - but all they do is sit there and hold water - they don't freeze it into perfect cubes; or dispense it at the ideal temperature...

I don't understand. And heaven forbid you want additional insulating properties on those sinks! You'd think I'd asked for KFC's secret recipe of 11 herbs and spices!

We spent a few hours this past weekend, camera in hand, looking for alot of things. Sinks among them - and we know what size we want, and yes, we understand the difference between 18/10 and 18/8 and mirrored decks and polished ones - it would just be easier if someone threw one in the cart and said "Here you go, Enjoy!"

Too many choices sometimes lead to no choices being made.

We did find a faucet for the island sink, which by the way will be a round sink used mainly for prep. here's a picture of the sleek faucet:



We're not spending more than the sink on the faucet, and we're not impressed by expensive names with expensive price tags. Form, function and efficiency please, thank you very much.

We looked at many different pendant lights - and happily snapped away with the camera so we could pretend we didn't have to make a choice until later. Here's a few that caught our eyes:

I kinda like the retro feel of these



And these next two have similar shaped lights, which might mean we're leaning that way without realizing it.




We're looking for something traditional to go with the style of painted maple cabinets with a hand-rubbed glaze top coat. But we haven't decided on cabinet handles yet - so we'll let the lighting decision simmer while we attend to more pressing issues.

Like tile for the backsplash... more on that next time!

Out with the old, in with the new

I sat and contemplated things yesterday in the erie silence that was our house. No distant hum from lights to colour the background; no constant furnace fan whirring around me everywhere I went; none of those everyday sounds that we've learned to ignore as we go about our days; nothing but the sounds of productive work echoing from the basement laundry / utility room.

Except the rumble of a gas-powered generator outside on the deck, as the electricians worked to remove the old electrical breaker panel that has served this house since 1962, and it's newer companion, the sub panel I had installed a few years back when I brought the Delta cabinet table saw back home and set up a scaled down woodworking shop space in our small single car garage.

I brought in a company to handle this aspect of the renovation, a company I use on a regular basis for electrical work commercially in the course of my regular life as a contract project manager for a commercial general contractor. The guys are almost like family - I see them regularly, know their stories and their natures, and they know me - so it's not your typical residential job for them, it's different, it's easier in a lot of respects, but more difficult at the same time - for while they know I'll give them free reign to correct and fix what they see, and I won't hover and stand over their shoulders while they're working, they also know that I'm not a one-off customer they won't have contact with again. The stakes are higher to produce a quality product.

But that's why I asked for the lead electrician I did, because I know he'll clean everything up like it's his own house and make it right; even more than right when possible, and he knows I appreciate his knowledge and his attention to detail.

Sure I dropped in on them now and then and checked their progress as they went about tagging, cataloguing and tracing the existing lines to make sure each one was accounted for and able to be installed in the new service properly and orderly, but I gave them space to work required, and they knew if they needed clarification on any aspect of the job I'd be there to assist them, and when they needed some 2x4 cut offs to attach the new plywood backer board, all they had to do was ask.

I think its important to give people space to perform their work, and not micromanage what doesn't need your input. It's a lot like raising children, sure they need boundaries and discipline and the knowledge that actions have consequences, but you have to let them grow and learn on their own for best results.

With this first tangible step in the renovation process underway, it struck my how much our lives are going to change this summer, and while I'm comfortable with the amount of upheaval that's headed our way, I'm not sure Karen or Riley is aware of what's barreling down the tracks right at them. But that's how we roll, I'll try and keep them comfortably unaware of the multitude of things going on behind the scenes as we approach that day when we can finally swing a hammer and start dismantling those past chapters of our lives tied into those doomed walls; like a good parent, protecting my crew from unnecessary stress and uncertainty, while at the same time, preparing them for the positive things coming their way.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Here's what was powering the house before:

(click to see full images)

And what we've got moving forward:

Now we have lots of room to grow; and so does our electrical service.

A look back

So here's where we started back in 1995.

Lovely 1960's bungalow, 1400ish square feet main floor, 3 bedrooms, 2 full baths, finished basement, attached (small single) garage.

It's changed colours a few times.

The trees have been removed, and or replanted - depends where you're looking.

Here's a picture last fall:

Yeah, I know, it looks a little barren without the trees. I think so too, glad you agree!

Here's what we found inside back then:

The lovely 60's kitchen.Check out that toaster oven over the Harvest Gold range! "Here's George Jetson..."

A view down the main floor hall. Yep, that's green and then blue carpet... wowsie!

The built-in mahogany china cabinet - in the dining room which is across the hall from the kitchen. (see past said china cabinet into kitchen doorway above)

The Gorgeous pink upstairs bathroom. Note the Hospital green painted insides on the vanity cabinet...

And not to be outdone, the blue basement bathroom... (and we BOUGHT this place?)

Yes, yes we did. I'll save you the shock of seeing the basement today, you can only handle so much. The previous owners left this house in the 60's with the decorating and furnishings too - the half-moon coffee table and purple sofa greeted us when we toured the open house.

Yes we got the place for a steal.

We saw the bones of the house and its potential. It was well built, all Douglas Fir framing, and straight and square, so we knew we could start over and have the house grow with us as we went. So we tackled the obvious issues; carpet, paint, added some built-ins and then lived in the house for a few years and figured out where we'd go from there.

Sure, well meaning family members told us to paint the kitchen cabinets for the time being, but we knew better, we knew we'd be tackling that room soon. Soon, as in this lifetime, it turns out, and not 'soon' as in the next year or so, but our intentions were good. We bought new appliances for the kitchen and adjusted our expectations once Riley arrived. But we kept fine tuning things, like paint colours (I think we're on the 4th or 5th colour in the master bedroom and at least that in the living room, dining room and main hall) and home office vs master bed room vs nursery locations - for awhile there each of the three main floor bedrooms got a crack at being one or the other.

Finally we stuck with the current arrangement, Riley's room at the end of the hall (blue carpet above) Master BR left hand side of end of hall beside that, with the 3rd BR becoming the office, across the hall from the former pink bathroom. We gutted that bathroom and redid it about 5 years ago. Good bye pink, hello earthy greys and greens and maple cabinetry and in-floor heated tile. I'll try and find a picture for you. But don't ask about the lack of doors on the medicine cabinets. They didn't get built. And then after a few years of living with the sans door concept, we tore out that set and recessed new units into the wall and ordered mirrors custom cut to fit into the solid maple doors I was making.

Anyone remember what happened with that project last year? High 4 1/2 if you do!

Next time, more pictures of the current main floor, and maybe a quick look at the basement before and after.

But first, lets hold hands and sing songs. I've got the electrician in tomorrow to replace the existing electrical service panel and sub panel in the basement, so we'll have a fresh new start for the new wiring that's coming in the expanded kitchen space. That's the first real step in this project.

It looks like we're serious about this!

Home Sweet Home...for now.

Ahh, spring time in Paris! The cafes; the blossoms; the architecture...

No wait. Check that.

The calendar says Spring, but there's not much springing up and growing anew just yet, and this isn't Paris, it's Winnipeg, which once Spring starts happening is very wonderful and fresh as it removes its winter trappings and begins to green up and bloom, but it's not Paris.

And this ain't a love song.

This is the beginning of a story, a journey to find something new, of recreation and rebirth. It's been a number of years in the making (don't ask, it's been awhile, trust me) and its finally here; we're renovating the house.

Sure, we've done minor rehabs to the interior in the past, including the main floor bathroom (complete gut) and the basement including full bath down there too, and numerous coats of paint and new trim and roof, and seemingly endless variations of yardwork including 2 decks, 5 or 6 raised flower beds, the shed, and the fence. But this year we're tackling the kitchen.

And if you know us, you also know that its not going to be just a simple kitchen redo, with new cabinets and flooring and lights etc.

No, I've been blessed with a broken switch that allows things to grow, to blossom into much larger, more grander incarnations of their original plans. Like vacations, but that's another story...

It all started with an Island. Actually that's not true, it all started moments after we moved into this house, and made a list of the things we wanted to change about it, to make it our own. Like removing the green carpet on the main floor, and the pink and white shag carpet in the master bedroom, or the blue carpet in the back bedroom. Under all of which we found oak hardwoods. Or the pink bathroom fixtures upstairs, or the raised velvet on the black and red wallpaper in the rec-room that went so well with the dark wood panelling, and the black vinyl-upholstered front on the wet bar, which matched with the vinyl coverings on the support columns...

With all those areas fighting for priority, the kitchen got pushed down the list - though we knew we wanted to change it. And so we planned it out, while we worked on the other areas. And as life is known to do, plans change. Riley was born, certain areas of the renovations took greater immediacy than others, then vacations grew... and grew again, and again...well, you get the idea.

The time has come, the time is now.

And so, this year we've decided and embarked on the plan. Not the same plan for the kitchen that we first started with, mind you, or the second or third... And truthfully, if we had built any of those we'd be redoing the kitchen again, for those first plans wouldn't have solved the main issue we had with this house: that the main traffic flow to the basement went right through the too small kitchen.

Next time: some pictures of the old, and a look at how we got here.

All things come to an end

"...for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." Shakespere, Hamlet Act 2, Scene 2

Ones health, much like the weather, is usually viewed from a perspective of wellness; of one's ability to enjoy their current situation. If you are not feeling well, then you must be ill - a duality we've come to accept almost in its inevitability - but more correctly, wellness is merely the scale upon which one's health is measured, and you may find yourself anywhere along the scale from gravely ill near one end, to stupendously well at the other but we as a society don't have many gradations of wellness beyond the midway 'well' mark, now do we?

Once you're feeling 'well' there's no need to discuss your situation further, you're no longer ill, so you're fine! Get along and enjoy your life, stop moping and complaining and get 'r done! But there must be increments of wellness beyond that middle ground that we could use to distinguish and rank our health, could there not?

Or are we just so ego-laden and deluded of our own self importance and so thirsty for the need for acknowledgment from others that we have unlimited numbers of health problems and complaints to share with anyone who dares ask "How are you?" Or maybe you've already come to the realization that if you ask dear friends that particular question they'll honestly share how they are feeling with you, when what you really meant to have said in greeting them was "It's good to see you again!" I'll be honest - many days I'm thankful for the ones who respond with "I'm fine, thanks!"

We do it with the weather. We use it as a greeting when meeting more-distant acquaintances, "Nice weather we're having!" or "Sure has been cold these past few weeks..." It's a conversation starter that's assumed safer than politics or religion or (see above) even one's health! But again, the reality is that weather just is. There's no good or bad weather; alot of it depends on mood, and expectations and wishful thinking and planning outdoor events that would be so much better experienced in 'good' weather, rather than 'bad' weather. But who's to say what makes weather good or bad? And why give the current meteorological conditions the power to influences our enjoyment of activities?

I'm feeling better these days, still the occasional cough, and some residual stuffiness and sniffling but my face finally feels like it belongs to me again, and my head is much more calm. I'm doing well. It could be worse, it could be better, so I'm doing just fine, thanks.

The 11A2 Greendell Falcons met their demise this past Sunday, at the hands of the Fort Garry Flyers, well, not so much at the hands of the Flyers, than due to that wonderful unpredictable force that is life. The Falcons fell behind 1-0 in the first despite having outshot the Flyers 6-2, save for a deflection from a point shot that found the back of the net. The action was so intense that there wasn't a whistle in the opening frame until 7:42. The second period was more of the same, close checking, the Falcons much more physical, but the Flyers found a way to score again, making it 2-0. But with 25 seconds left in the 2nd, the Falcons got one back, and took the momentum with them going into the third. They outshot them 7-2 in the final period but couldn't beat the goalie, or the posts, or the crossbar, and even with the net empty in favor of the extra attacker and all kinds of pressure, it was not to be.

Final score Flyers 2, Falcons 1. End of playoffs, end of season.

Sad dejected faces, some tear stained, some not, all disappointed in varying degrees, met us as we entered the dressing room afterwards. As coaches we are so proud of them for their determination, their hard work, their effort and never backing down, working together as a team, and we told them they had nothing to be ashamed of or sorry for, and so many reasons to be proud of who they had become. From 15th place to 6th when it was all over, more wins than losses in the 5 playoff games, not only beating the top seeded team, but knocking them out of the playoffs...

It was a great game. The outcome wasn't what we had hoped for, but then life doesn't always give you what you want, does it? I'm feeling better, and the weather has been very Spring-like, and hockey's over for another season. It's not our place really to judge whether anything's good or bad. It just is. And you know what? That's just fine with me, thanks.

There's light at the end of the tunnel!

The good news is, I'm still alive!

The bad news is, I'm still not out of the woods. But we're getting closer!

The migraines of Tuesday have left me - but that sinus infection thingie decided it needed to teach me something, and moved into my chest and lungs and promptly unpacked and decided to make itself at home. This week has been a write-off, and for awhile there I wasn't sure I was going to make the weekend. Bronchial passages clogged up to here left we gasping for air on more than a few occasions - and no, I didn't take the cough medicine Karen advised me to take - I'm stubborn, remember? I needed to cough this crap up and get it out of my system.

Luckily work has been slow this week, so taking time to heal wasn't an issue - I doubt anyone would have wanted to see me in that condition anyway! Sleeping has been the toughest part of this, I couldn't lay down without getting everything clogged up which caused more coughing fits, which aggravated the headaches... it was a viscous cycle.

T-3's helped with the headache pain, and the codeine helped keep the coughing down - but until the airways get totally clear I'm not about to say I'm over this whatever-it-was. I did learn that cold air helped my breathing, and that a hot steaming bath almost killed me - I'll store that useful information for a later date.

I slept well last night, so I'm making progress.

Riley played his latest playoff game (that's game number 4 for those of you keeping track at home) this evening - remember they lost their first game, so one more loss means the season's over - they met their nemesis from Fort Richmond tonight(a team we have battled with over the past few seasons and who ended our season 2 years ago in overtime - we don't think kindly of them, or them of us for that matter)and it was a tight checking, defensive battle, with Riley's team (the Falcons) getting goals in the first and second period to take a 2-0 lead into the final frame.

Some subjective officiating game Richmond a powerplay midway through the third, and they managed to squeeze one past our goalie. The intensity was high, the battle fierce, and when the dust settled and the buzzer went to end the game, the Falcons skated away with a 2-1 win!

The boys have gone from being seeded 15th out of 16 teams in the city, to now being one of the final 6 teams left playing! They get another chance to keep the season alive tomorrow (Sunday) at 12:50, when they take on Fort Garry, 11-4-3 in the regular season, but against our Falcons they won 1, lost 1, and tied 1.

Should be one heck of a game! Go Falcons!

Stop me if you've heard this one before...

So let's recap: Saturday Feb 27th migraine hit me late in the evening while watching tv; Dog Whisperer, in fact, though I hold Cesar and his staff and pack entirely blameless. Managed through it okay, by Wednesday I was more or less back to normal except for the odd muscle twitch in and around my left knee.

Saturday March 6th, while returning home to pick up the boy to take him back to the hockey team's parent party, round 2 of the migraine meltdown hits, and the Captain and I fend off the invading forces as best we can with his trusty first mate Cola, but we were forced to give i just after midnight. Sunday wasn't great but I could function, and went to Riley's playoff game and watched them beat the top seeded team and advance to the next round.

Monday felt generally crappy and hung-over like but also seemed to be developing some kind of chest / sinus cold. Did some reading on migraines and found that men and women experience them differently and that our bodies deal with the pain in different capacities too. Many men who are treated for sinus headaches are actually suffering from migraines, and these can also be accompanied by the sinus infection apparently. But since most men rarely seek medical treatment for anything, there is far less data available on exactly how many men suffer from migraines and what their symptoms entail. Long story short I felt and sounded "sick" not just wiped out from the headache.

Tuesday I felt even worse, but took care of a couple site meetings that I had to complete, and then crashed by noon, welcomed home with that all-too-familiar vision thing happening in my right eye for the first time ever! The aura didn't grow too large, and a dark room and an afternoon of rest and meds helped. Karen took Riley to his piano practice, then to hockey practice and finally to parent-teacher meetings (I love that woman!) And I hit the couch, curtains drawn and the cat wisely sensing I didn't want him anywhere nearby.

Got up to take meds at 5 cuz I felt 'off' somehow, and while I was up checked my email. Sat in the office read the two or three messages that didn't need my attention anyway, and realized I was being attacked by yet another dazzling lightshow! This time back in the familiar left eye field of vision, starting as a very small blurred spot, but quickly growing outwardly into a "C" shaped ribbon of zig-zags, until it covered my entire left visual side!

&#@*!&

Coupled with the runny, stuffy nose and the occasional coughing fit, I was the poster boy for pharmaceutical intervention. The resulting headache was brutal, and thankfully the T-3's kicked in enough to let me get some rest..

I'm sick. And I don't like it. I'm also concerned about these headaches and auras - yes, a doctor's appointment has been made - and no, I'm not working today - though I am writing this to let you know I haven't been totally incapacitated, though at times I sure felt like it.

I'm going back to my cave.

Second Verse, Same as the First

I feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day.

Another Saturday, another playoff hockey game for Riley's team (this time they won - which they'll have to do from here on in, as one more loss means their season will be over) and instead of another quiet evening watching Olympic sports and The Dog Whisperer, this particular Saturday we had plans for an evening out with parents from the boys' hockey team. A parents party! Which loosely translated means booze, food, stories and laughter; and no kids! So after a relaxing afternoon of napping and resting, we had dinner and got ready.

Party was to start any time after 8. So we packed up the Margaritaville Machine, a few bottles of rum, some mixers, a good Hawaiian drinking shirt and headed out. We arrived at our hosts house and unloaded the supplies, got a quick tour of their minor kitchen renovation, and headed downstairs to set up the MM and get a drink under our belts.

Their son was home, and would be banished to his room for the evening to play video games and get to bed at a decent hour - though how they expected that to happen in a noisy house full of partying parents was beyond me. Perry, our host, hinted that practice makes perfect, so perhaps they've done this a time or two...

Our Hostess asked where Riley was - we said home alone in front of the Wii, a place he was happy to reside in our absence - and she said that we should go get him, as another couple was bringing their son over too. Okay, what the heck, this might work out better for us, as having the boy with us gives us a chance for an earlier out than if we'd left him behind. Perry was talking about having the hot tub and a firepit and something about watching the sun come up...

Now it should be noted that we've been out of the hardcore partying loop for a few too many years. We had no plans to be celebrating that long!!

So I left to get Riley. Luckily no drinks had been consumed yet. As I drove away, I realized that something wasn't right. A slight uneasiness surrounded me - I figured it might just be the anticipation of an evening out - but as I drove it soon became clear (or not) what was happening.

After having spent the day with a sore left eye - a sort of ache behind and inside the eye itself - coupled with still lingering muscle twitches in my left leg around my kneecap - I was looking forward to relaxing with good friends and getting to know the new parents on the team a bit better.

Cue the Groundhog Day do-over...

Driving along St Mary's Road, just after 9 in the now night darkness, facing rows of oncoming bright white headlights and burning red taillights, I noticed my eye had stopped hurting, which was great - but that ache had been replaced with that telltale beginning spot of pulsating blurriness, and with each block it progressed into a larger arching trail of brilliant dazzling contrasts, until as I pulled into our driveway I was missing a good third of my vision.

Here we go again...

Now I can be stubborn. Really. I know that might come as a shocker to many of you, but it's true. And I was in no mood to be shutdown by some malfunctioning neurological disorder. Not this night. This night I had plans! So I called for Riley to grab one of his Wii controllers and his jacket and jump in the car - we were headed back to the party.

I explained that Brayden had wanted Riley to come over, since Sean was going to be there too, and Riley was all for it - video games with friends and getting to stay up late on a Saturday night? What's not to love? I also explained that I was in the beginning stages of yet another migraine and while I wasn't in any pain yet - I was experiencing the aura phase. Smart boy that he is asks, "If you can't see everything, should you be driving?" Well, I'll leave the ethics and legality of his question for another post - and explain that we were driving maybe all of 2 miles to get back there.

Spare me the lecture. I have a stubborn side - I'm not listening.

So we returned and pretended nothing was wrong and enjoyed the evening. I apparently do not have a poker face - the pain and discomfort gave me away, and as much as I tried to put on a brave face and be part of the festivities, it was obvious I wasn't my usual normal happy go lucky self. A few parents at the party are also migraine sufferers, and listened wide-eyed as I described the aura I had just experienced, and they couldn't believe I wasn't somewhere in the fetal position begging for mercy. One of our assistant coaches is an Optometrist, and he sympathized with my plight, but knew there was little that I could do but wait it out. I've accepted that fact, but I'm not sold on having another migraine a week after the last episode.

I figure you do what you have to sometimes. And if I was going to suffer the headache and after-effects of a migraine, I may as well stay and enjoy the evening and have something to show for my pain.

So I self medicated with small amounts of rum, staying away from the Flaming Sambuco's, the Tequila shots, the Apple Pie shots and the silliness that would soon overtake the party, knowing our evening would end prematurely eventually, once the pounding reached its crescendo. Don't ask me about the one-armed air-hockey player, or the Boob-Olympics - those stories will stay private with us for a long time!

The boys play again this afternoon in a couple hours time. Something tells me our side of the rink might be very, very quiet...

Update: The boys won! Knocked off the top seeded team in the playoffs, 3-1. They live to play again next Saturday. Fingers crossed we don't have another replay of the migraine situation.

Why playing with your food isn't a bad thing

a broken misstep backwards

a moment out of time

echoes in silent darkness

a victim without a crime

Words need rhythm, they need to feel the air before they can comfortably live on paper, or in this case any number of digital formats. The lyrical quality that makes good writing great is difficult to achieve; and even harder the more one tries to perfect it. Great writers seem to be able to take their readers to a different plane, some higher place outside the pages of the book, where words melodic and light play lively and intertwine to form scores within the stories. They don't know how they do it; at least they can't explain their craft, those writers just know how to weave phrases and imagery so skillfully. It's an art. A worthy pursuit.

My brain is cluttered at the best of times - words, music, images, ideas, plans, memories, all jockeying for supremacy and for recognition, in hopes that I might do something with whatever thread or remnant lies there, bare, able to be plucked and held and used in some glorious grand design.

Most of the time I find mush.

But like a child in a highchair, strapped in place, stuck, unable to free himself from the plate of greyish 'stuff' in front of him, I poke and push at the mush, passing time, trying to find the common element, the purpose, the essence of that mush. Often it ends up on my shirt, and in my hair, and all over the floor. Puddles of bland ideas and bits of music and the odd idea jumbled together there on the floor beneath my swinging feet, nothing to show for my efforts.

Sometimes I get lucky and I find something identifiable in the mush, down deep in the middle, a small fragment of a creative spark, a line or a flash of an image, a design that I can use in something, somewhere! And I reach and grasp and pull on it and hold it and try to contain it and once I've captured it and brought it forward with me I can let it grow on paper, or in my mind further, allowing it to breathe life into itself, letting it expand and seek its own path as it broadens into what it was destined to become.

We don't control those times, or even pretend to really be a part of the process, other than to have given the 'thing' a place to manifest, like a gardener planting a seed. We didn't create the seed, we merely gave it the opportunity to grow. Like that idea or creative spark. We didn't 'invent" it, it was always there, hidden in the mush. We just set it free and let it develop into its destiny.

Sometimes, I think, we try too hard to force the process instead of sitting back and accepting what comes our way, allowing ourselves the freedom to recognize the opportunities all around us. Caught in the mundane aspects of this life we disconnect from our nature and play out the roles we've defined ourselves by, ones we tried on early in life and liked, or felt suited us best - never stopping to really ask ourselves who we are and why we're here, and what we're meant to become. We rush and fight to get everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Often feeling empty, lifeless, grey, and dull.

Maybe what we need to do is to stop and look at that empty, lifeless, grey dull, mush from a different angle; a fresh perspective, and poke at it a little, and push at it a little, and maybe we'll find that something, deep down inside and grasp it and hold it and take it, and let it grow.

Into whatever it was destined to become; to find its own true rhythm.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear...

Migraines are cunning creatures.

One minute you're living your life in all it's ignorant glory, watching Cesar's seemingly effortless canine behavior modification, and the next you're suddenly aware that parts of the flat screen image have become like your car's blind spot, except you've lost parts of your field of vision directly in front of you, not over your shoulder, like some distorted digital image captured on your child's handheld game device, it's stylus churning a once recognizable picture into a blurred mass of colour. But there's no 'restore' button to press; no 'undo' feature to this experience.

I watched a portion of my world disappear again Saturday evening, awed by the sensations appearing somewhere between my reality and my consciousness. I've moved beyond the fear and panic of that very first episode a few years ago, when I wasn't sure what was happening and whether I was about to have a stroke or an aneurism or something worse. Was it visual? Neurological? Physical? A combination? Was I losing my eyesight? Would it be permanent or just a temporary inconvenience? Was it a result of my surroundings or something I'd ingested or been exposed to? A reaction? What?! Once I was able to quiet my racing mind and realize that while something was most definitely happening to me, I was in no immediate danger, I was able to deal with my new state in more concrete terms.

The tunnel vision was a treat, and I likely shouldn't have tried driving home, but hey, you live and learn, right?

As further portions of my surroundings dropped from my field of view this past weekend, replaced by a void of clarity, I watched and waited patiently, knowing full well what might come next; half expecting it, half dreading it, but always mindful to be present in the moment. No two occurrences are alike. Some last much longer than others; some pose very little discomfort during the aura phase; others affect me much more severely in terms of vision impairment; each one brings something new to the table.

Sometimes its simply a loss of vision in one small area, and it will clear with the passage of time, perhaps with a headache, perhaps not; maybe the light-sensitivity this time, or maybe I'll escape unscathed and be able to resume normal activities relatively quickly. But when the blurred areas of vision continue to bind together in ever tightening currents of jagged contrasts, I know I'm in for a wild ride. So I watch the magical, hallucinogenic effects of my brain appearing in my eyesight with interest and appreciation, surveying the zig-zag lines for new patterns and colours, trying to remember them for later, much later, when the pounding finally subsides, and the pain recedes to more tolerable levels.

Then I admit defeat and seek remedy for the impending events, taking solace in dark, quiet spaces, fatigued and drained without much apparent effort, to ride out the storm.

Morning may bring relief.

Or it may not.

Usually the new dawn brings a shallow, fragile, hollowness, and mental dullness. Tired eyes still sensitive; remnants of aching echoing throughout; time the only cure. Sunday brought small comfort; the lingering symptoms never far from the surface. Monday seemed more hopeful, and life was attempted with gusto, though I find myself still affected this evening as I write.

The appreciation and interest have waned considerably.