Weird Sunday.

I have made this photo the desktop on my computer – a picture I didn’t think much of when I took it, blown up it takes this lovely 3-dimensional quality on. I feel like I could just step into the picture and be back in Anza Borrego and away from the endless rain of Vancouver spring.

A few blogposts ago I made a comment about needing to end things with ex-lovers – to which I was really speaking about one person in particular. Today, it actually happened, even though I did not expect it to come in the form that it did – when it became apparent to me (through an IM discussion) that this relationship was going to continue to hurt me even with the peace offering of “friendship”. In the end I was called extreme and my desire for understanding the basis of friendship stupid and hung up on in IM to which I responded with an email requesting an end to all contact for a good long time. (Note to everyone: hanging up on me is tantamount to screaming abuse in my world – far more wounding than anything you could say – after a four year marriage to someone who often shut doors in my face and refused to talk to me when upset.)

Perhaps I am extreme when it comes to protecting myself from further hurt. I think there are worse things than that, even if it does result in a little obstinancy at times. I suppose at least now he can tell himself that he tried and I am just being unreasonable *sigh*.

So then I pulled a book of Neruda’s poems off the shelf. A book I have not looked at in at least a decade (Odes to Common Things) and I was reading the Ode to the Violin when I thought – hey! I need to play my fiddle which I have not touched in a couple of weeks. Imagine my disappointment when I opened the case and found the strings all unwound as the support peg at the bottom had broken off completely! I knew that was a possibility as long as a couple of years ago (having noticed a weakness in the wood) but I was still surprised. It needs a bunch of work – that fiddle – so I guess I’m taking it into Long and McQuade downtown tomorrow to see if the luthier is in and can do some magic with it.

At least before all this happened I managed to organize my desert photos for printing as I have promised Darren copies from the trip, as well as pictures of my house (which will one day be his residence too).

I guess today was meant to have a little upset in it, and really, I felt much better once I sent that email to my ex-lover. I think I’ll just spend the evening curled up with a good book (but perhaps not the Neruda).