The best thing about aging is the self-acceptance. I’m 47 now. I wouldn’t mind having the body that I had at age 20, but I wouldn’t want to be young again. It was agony.
House of Rougeaux
My first language was drawing. Though as an artist I now focus on words, I spent my entire childhood, and much of the subsequent years, drawing thousands of pictures. Large stacks of those early works were of horses; some were my psychology slapped directly onto the page and are embarrassing to look at now.
I have a filter problem. Living in the rather starched social environment of Victoria, British Columbia, saying what’s on my mind often gets me in trouble, and that is due in part to the fact that tact is not my strong suit. I love people who are direct though. If you have opinions and they come shooting out, we would probably get along very well.
I’m a little bit evil. I’m very concerned with being a responsible citizen and a good person, but in those inner recesses I still have some undigested grief and anger—which I suppose is where it originates --and that can come out, usually at my husband, Chris. Thankfully, he keeps forgiving me. A friend of ours once even called us “Good” and “Evil”. She said he was a goody-two-shoes (which is true) and as to the evil part, well, it takes one to know one.
I’m really into women. I married a man, but I love my girlfriends. Going on a walk and talking about life with a girlfriend is my idea of a good party.
I love making my kid laugh. Asa is 13 and has reached the eye-rolling stage, but we share a sense of humor that runs rampant in the house. No one makes me laugh more than Asa. I always used to (sometimes still do) imitate people, and at last someone imitates me (and it is hilarious.)
If being a homebody were a sport, I’d be a triathlete. We are lucky to live in a beautiful apartment in a 100-year-old mansion. Top floor views into treetops and sky. Asa slides down the bannisters. My home is my absolute refuge.
I’m something of a minimalist. I highly value a small, uncluttered living space, and a small, uncluttered schedule. I have fantasies of owning no furniture and having immaculate floors, but I have a family and that saves me from such silly ideas becoming real.
I worship books, I worship writers, I hate books, I hate writers. For me, a great book is the highest form of art, and great writers are my gods. Other than that, I am a horrible, horrible, snob.
My super-power is Do-It-Yourself. Nothing you can buy can’t be made better by some homemade alterations, principally clothing. Same with summer camps. Asa and I put on plays in our front yard in the summer, with friends and cardboard props. DIY is where it’s at.