Saturday, November 13, 2010


Winter is coming. And with it comes the awful dread I feel as the cold clamps down, the snow falls and the inevitable ice develops on the roads.
About mid September I begin to stress about it. I get my gut in such a knot that by the time the snow flies I am already sick with worry over the drives I will have to make around town, to work in Bracebridge or any other place I need to go.
Don't get me wrong. I LOVE the scenery that comes with the colder temperatures, and every day as I drive past a lake on the left hand side of the highway at 7:20 in the morning, I am left brethless at the beauty of the mist that hangs over the fields that sparkle with the morning frost. The sun burning through the mist and lighting everything to a brilliant gold. The lake bright and golden as well. Words cannot begin to describe how breathtaking this scene is. I regret every morning that I do not have my camera to capture this and that I do not HAVE the time to capture this even if I had my camera. So every week I buy a lottery ticket and every week I wonder if this will be the week I can quit my job and work at whatever pace I decide. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE what I do for work. What I don't love is the fact it is a 40 minute drive if I don't speed. then back to my "Winter anxiety" I hate... absolutely HATE the morning winter routine. Get up at 4:30 to see if it snowed. If not try to fall back to sleep for a bit.. If it has, get dressed and go outside and shovel my crazy, sloping, scares me half to death in the winter, driveway.. then sand it liberally and after showering and a fresh change of clothes, cautiously drive down into the busy traffic rushing past praying I don't hit a slippery spot that sends me sliding down onto the road with no control only to hope I can avoid being hit.
Then, once safely at work seeing the snow fall creates another round of the sick to my stomach "crap will I be able to get UP the driveway" feeling. It makes winter a miserable time and if I manage to get through this one without dropping dead from a heart attack as a result of the stress I feel for that reason alone.. it will be a miracle.
'Nuff said.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

#frudayflash - Little Miss Muffet

Little miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet

Eating her curds and whey

Along came a spider

Who sat down beside her



“Isn’t it a lovely day?”

“Pardon me” Inquired Miss Muffet. A look of surprise and bewilderment on her face at the very idea of a spider speaking to her.

“Well” said the spider, “Now that I have your attention I would like to suggest that maybe you consider getting to know me a bit before you go flying off like you usually do. I suspect you will find that we have a great deal in common.”

“Reaaallly.” Muffet drawled.

“Yes” he answered. “For instance, I quite like sitting in the sun and enjoying my afternoon repast, such as yourself with your curds and whey there.”

Muffet looked down into her bowl and back at the spider who had just consumed a fly while she pondered his words.

“Yes, and walks, I love walking, scurrying back and forth across my web like I do gives me great pleasure. I have observed you walking by on a regular basis”

Muffet nodded her head in agreement. “Yes, I do love a leisurely stroll now and then.”

“And you crochet” the spider stated motioning with his front right leg to the delicate incomplete doily beside Muffet. “And I weave my web with the same care and pride as you do your crocheting”

“So you see, we really are very much alike.”

Muffet gazed at the spider, her wide blue eyes almost identical in colour to her perfectly pressed pinafore. Her blond hair shone brightly in the afternoon sun and complemented her beautiful rosebud lips.

“I don’t think so” Muffet answered and smacked a rock down on the unsuspecting spider. You’re ugly”.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

#fridayflash - Desperate Times....

"Last one" Christina mumbled out loud as she dropped the red spattered white pearl into the sink. She leaned in to admire her handiwork in the mirror.

She smiled a toothless grin and ran her tongue over the now empty sockets where her teeth used to be. So soft and yielding was the flesh under her tongue. Like raw chicken that had been pounded with a mallet but redder and oh so bloody.

She looked down into the sink and started to count. 29, 30, 31.

31, no 32 pearly whites. Some of them almost lost in the splatters of blood that coated the bottom and sides of the sink. She picked them up one by one and counted one more time. Then tossed them in the trash. She turned to the sink again and picked up the pliers and ran hot water over them to clean them up. With the water still running she used her hand to swirl it up the sides and then down the drain.

As she wiped the pliers and the sink dry she gazed in the mirror at her now toothless face and was startled by the scream in her head.

Christina sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat pouring down her face, eyes wide, heart racing as she remembered seeing her own toothless reflection in her dream.

Damn this tooth hurt. Six days. Six days of agony that no amount of pain killer and types of antibiotics was able to relieve. Six days of feeling she could not last one more moment without losing her sanity. She climbed out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom and popped 2 more T3’s into her mouth along with 2 Gravol to keep herself from throwing up once the T3’s hit her stomach. Crawling back into bed she started to cry. She rolled herself up into a ball, her knees drawn tightly against her chest and rocked. Her mind drifted to her dream again and the pliers in the tool chest in the closet.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

#fridayflash- A Special Anniversary

Lavina and Samuel were celebrating 40 years of wedded bliss.

More accurately Samuel was celebrating 40 years of wedded bliss. The last 10 had not been so blissful for Lavina.

10 years ago.. to this date, Samuel had brought home a puppy.

“Happy Anniversary Sweetheart" and handed her the little ball of fur that he had already named muffin. Lavina thought about that day as she stood over the stove serving Samuel his third helping of Stew. He was loving this stew. Just lapping it up bowl after bowl with a crusty roll and lots of butter. Streaks of the melting butter running down his face mixed with the thick gravy from the stew and coagulating on his chin. He spit out bits of the roll as he announced again. “Best damn stew you have ever made Vina, you really outdid yourself this time. “

He slurped some of the beer from the chilled glass and wiped his face with the back of his arm. Smearing bits of butter, gravy and beer foam up the sleeve of his freshly washed and ironed shirt. Lavina had worked most of the day preparing the house and his clothes and the meal. Specially for him.

“You not having any” he asked.

“No” she responded quickly and grinned at him. “I think the heat has put me off food today. “I made this specially for you anyway dear. You enjoy it.”

He looked past her to the rhubarb pie cooling on the counter then said. “You are too good to me Vina. You made my favorite pie and everything”.

40 years was a long time to be with someone these days and until that damn dog had been brought into the house they were very happy. Lavina and Samuel. At the young ages of 18 and 19 they promised till death do them part and Lavina meant it and would stick to her vows through good times and bad. 10 years ago was the start of the bad times. Lavina hated dogs. She couldn’t stand the site of them or the sounds they made and smell of them just about drove her round the bend. The little ones were the worst. Samuel knew this but he brought it home anyway under the guise of an Anniversary gift and presented it to her like it was the Hope Diamond. She made the appropriate sounds and thanked him. Put the puppy down on the floor and rushed to the sink to wash her hands .

Since that day the damn dog always came first in Samuel's life. He bought it beds. One for every room in the house. Mind you, the dog never slept in any of them. It was constantly in Samuel's lap, or in his arms as he carried it about. It sat in the front seat of the car while Lavina had been moved to the back. Not that she went out in the car anymore. Sitting behind that animal with its fur blowing around in the breeze flying into her face caused her to see red. And outfits. The dog had more outfits than she had. He even bought it little booties for the cold weather.

The dog didn’t think to highly of Lavina either. It would often growl at her as she walked by and more than once it had lunged at her and taken a nip at her leg and Samuel was always quick to defend the dog. Justifying its action. Seeming to have no concern for Lavina and the blood running down her calf.

Samuel never fed the dog table scraps though. The vet had said it was a strict no no and Samuel wanted his love to be healthy and happy.

Lavina was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of Samuel pushing his bowl away as he shoved the last bit of crusty roll drenched in gravy into his mouth.

He looked around the room and got up from his chair. He wandered out into the living room and she could hear him call. “Muffin… ….Muffin.. .… muffin. Where’s daddy’s baby hiding? Muffin??? Where are you girl??”

She heard the sound of his voice calling and fading as he wandered the house… room to room, calling his precious dog. There was silence for a few minutes and she imagined him confused and wondering about his dog.

She heard him behind her as he came back into the kitchen.

“Have you seen Muffin?” Samuel asked in a voice devoid of the enthusiasm it held when he ate the meal she had prepared just for him.

She turned, a look of concern on her face when she answered. “No dear. I haven’t, have you checked out in the yard? Maybe she ran out when you came in”

“I will go look” he answered and walked out to the back porch.

Lavina turned back to the sink and flushed the remaining stew down the waste disposal. A large grin pasted across her face.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Musings and complaints mixed with a bit of whining

Its been a while since I last blogged.  Not because I lacked anything to blog about. What I severely lacked was the time. As for my Friday Flashes, it was time, but mostly imagination. or lacking the time to even think about what my next story will be about. Life goes on. Right now, gardens need work... they always do. So does the laundry, and the house, my son requires being picked up somewhere or dropped of somewhere, because most of his friends live out of town. And then there is my boyfriend who has his own list of things he requires. Work, business, breakfast, dinner, lunch. dishes, toilets, floors, and somewhere in there I really should get some exercise. All stuff everyone of us has to deal with every day.  So I guess it comes to me being somewhat incapable of what... organization?  Proper planning? or is it letting other people dictate how I go about my day according to what they think my priorities should be. I suspect its that last one. I find more and more often I will be in the middle of something and as I walk by someone says.  I need your help with this now, with no regard or question as to what I MAY be in the middle of. So I guess what it comes down to is me being able to say.  "You know what. I am busy at the moment, just give me a bit to finish off what I am doing" Gotta try that.

Hmmmm. Would this open a kettle of fish I don't have time to deal with???

It's a dilemma.

I will have to think about that.

If I find the time.

Monday, May 31, 2010

Tough stuff

This weekend... we threw a mans life in the garbage.
Sounds awful, when I say it that way.
My boyfriends father was a medic in the Korean war. He was biological father to two and adoptive father to two. He was a musher and for years had sled teams.  There is not much else I know about him other than the fact that he was 6'4 or thereabouts. He couldnt drink grapefruit juice because of his medications.(And he loved the stuff) and he battled Cancer for many years before I even met him.  That is what finally took his life a few short days after his birthday in February of this year. He was big into the military history, and the music that went with it. (Having been in the military I suppose) And he never spoke of the war or his part in it.
Anyway... this weekend.. after many weekends of sorting and agonizing over what to do about the things in his home, we decended on it and threw what we could carry out of it and sold off the rest. A life time of papers and photo memories and cans and jars and bags of coins. I hate this type of thing. I want to keep every picture or written memory but as was pointed out to me..... where do they go? Packed away once they come to our home, in a box and stashed in the basement never to be looked at. So I relented and it all went out to the dumpster.
We started hauling out at 9 and worked throught to 6:30. We met a few interesting people along the way like Dan who will be out new small engines guy. He came by with his young son Ryan who really really liked the globe on the desk.  That is now his. Dan took all the old metal off our hands and came out and removed our appliance garden as John liked to call it. Dan stripes everything apart for the metal salvage and sells it off for cash. I could go on more about Dan, met his wife later on who is 4 or 5 months pregnant... then there was "Off the Grid Mike or Doug" I cannot remember his name, he was by a few times on Saturday, and I got in conversation with him in the garage. He had driven in on a beautiful Harely Davidson motorcycle, and had wandered about to see if anything intrested him, and he made a couple purchases. He had that burley biker look to him and reminded me of the one guy on Myth Busters, the quiet sullen one who's name escapes me.
I was in the garage and duped the contenst of a large plastci bag to find it contained a rather large nest of mice. Needless to say, I screamed at the shock of seeing this pile of fluff move and a mother come flying out with what looked like about 6 babies stuck to her underside as she ran around looking for some shelter.
Well, "Off the Grid Mike or Doug" wandered in to see what the commotion was about and asked if I was OK. I explained what had startled me and while I spoke he gathered up in his hands the babies that had fallen of her teets and the other strays in his large hands and gently placed them agains the wall where mother had found a crack to hide in. "Don't worry about them he said, they are survivours, they will find another home." Another family came by and purchased the sofa, several chairs and lamps I think. They had just, after 3 years completed building their log home with the timbers he had cut and stripped himself. They DID have them milled and shaped to fit one on top of the other like the logs toys I played with as a kid but thats about all that they had done outside of thier own hard work. Salvaged doors and windows from other old buildings one of them being a Bigwin island building. They pulled out the album and we looked though three years of hard labor as they lovingly built thier home. That day we met three intersting families who make their lives in less traditional ways than most of us who hold 9 to 5 jobs. However and whatever it takes to get the food on the table. All of them your Jack of many trades. Each one of the men certified in many fields of skill and not stuck to any particular one day after day..... and everyone one of them seeming so very happy, and of all the people we met on that day, they were the most socialable. They scrounged around the house and saw the potential in the same things that many had turned thier nose up at.
So the house got cleared out and cleaned up. I got over having to throw stuff out that I wanted to see kept. I just got too tired to care. And afterall, the best memories are stored inside my head anyway. And I think we all made some new friends

Thursday, May 13, 2010

#fridayflash - Erica

Erica stared hard at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The morning light beaming in the window was not her friend today but she could fix that. She leaned in close to the mirror and smoothed her foundation over her face. Standing back to examine her work she decided to apply some more concealer here and there to even out the colour, then puffed on the powder to fix everything in place.

Gary had bought her one of those fancy make up mirrors for the cabinet with the different levels of lighting to adjust to varying environments. Day, evening and office. She would be heading out into daylight upon completion of her makeup so picked the appropriate setting on the mirror.

Turning her face left and then right to see if there were any less than perfect spots she started on her eyes.

She thought about the evening before and then back to the day she first saw Gary. She worked in the cosmetic department of a high end department store catering to only the cities most affluent.

Erica was a makeup artist. She had studied for a year and a half at one of the best schools in Hollywood and was very good at what she did. She had applied for this job hoping that by working at this counter selling product and being able to demonstrate her skills to Hollywood’s elite that she might be able to achieve her dream and one day get a position as an artist on movie sets. Only the most beautiful of people were employed here. And Erica was striking. Hollywood’s famous shopped here and she had waited on many of them. She figured it was only a matter of time before she was “discovered.’

She first noticed Gary walking arm and arm with a gorgeous blond. He was your classic tall dark and handsome and Erica wondered if he was possibly a model or an actor. Later as they strolled past on their way out he happened to glance in her direction and then again.

“Ohhh a double take” Erica thought to herself and gave him her most charming smile. He smiled broadly back at her. She felt herself flush and her heart skipped a beat.

Although she kept a lookout for him it was sometime before she saw him again.

Then early one morning she caught sight of him carrying a large bouquet as he confidently strolled past the other counters flanking both sides of the isle. She watched as the girls at other counters would fan themselves and giggle after he passed. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen and her pulse began to race as he got closer. His eyes met hers and she quickly looked down. Embarrassed to have been caught staring. Her breath stuck in her throat. And she waited until she was sure he had passed. When she looked up it was straight into his deep blue eyes. He was smiling at her as he held out the bouquet.

“For you my beauty” his velvety voice announced. “I have done nothing but think of you since our eyes first met. “ What time do you get off of work? Will you do me the honor of sharing a meal?”

“Oh my god he is so charming” Erica thought to herself and she could see him in another time swirling off his coat ‘Sir Raleigh’ style and taking her hand to escort her over a puddle in the road.

“ Um.. ah” she stammered, now at a loss for words and very aware of the look of shock and envy from the other girls at the counters he had passed.

“Six” she blurted, then blushed because her voice was far louder than she had intended.

“Six it is then” he replied and taking her hand in his he bowed slightly saying, “I will pick you up here” and turned to go.

Erica’s legs turned to Jelly and she put her hands on the counter to steady herself.

That was just short of 6 years ago. Gary picked her up that evening and swept her off her feet. He courted her in a way she had only dreamed of. It was every girls dream. A whirlwind romance full of flowers, and gifts followed by a fairy tale wedding.

“There is no one for me but you” he whispered in her ear as he held her tight last night, “and no one for you but me”

The flowers arrived this morning as they always did after an evening like last night.

“You know how much I love you” scrawled in Gary’s hand across the card.

Erica looked at the ticket on the counter. Her bus left in an hour. She had to get moving.

She looked again at the skillful application of makeup that did a great job of hiding her black eye. One of the many she had acquired over the last 4 years since they had married. The long sleeves of her blouse covered the ugly bruises on her arms.

Walking through the house, suitcase in hand, Erica opened the front door and squinted in the bright light. She turned and took one final look at what had been her home, then closed and locked the door.

Friday, May 7, 2010

#fridayflash - Angela

Emmet sat reading his paper by the light of the morning sun that beamed in the window. Hot coffee held in his hand ready to sip at a moment’s notice.
His wife was out in the yard working in the garden and he observed her, a scowl of disgust on his face.
“She is talking to those damned flowers like they were people. "Friggin woman is half crazy" Emmet thought to himself.
He watched her as she moved up the drive past his car. Hose in one dirt crusted hand.
"Better not get any dirt on my baby" He announced out loud and jumped at having startled himself by the sound of his own voice. The scalding coffee slopped onto his hand.
“Shit” he yelled out loud again grabbing the towel from the sink to wipe it dry.
“Friggin woman” he thought again glaring at her as she moved down past the car again.
He watched with an eagle eye to be sure she was gone and around the other side of the house before he relaxed and allowed himself to sit and get back to his morning paper.
He read about some local kids who had gotten themselves killed.
“Stupid fools” he muttered “likely driving too fast” He noticed a name he recognized from down the road a bit then realized one of the children killed was a neighbors son.
“Of course” he thought, “Idiot like his father”. Emmet had never been a fan of Pastor Dan Wilson and his family. And sure as hell, the minute his wife Kate found out she’d be on the phone with all her busy body friends organizing a food chain. That’s what she called them anyway. Anytime there was a death in town she would get all her “nasty ass old cronies” to cook meals for the family and each day one of them would take a basket of casseroles, fruit, and sandwiches over.
Emmet moved onto the next headline as he lifted his now cooler coffee to his mouth.
“Bodies of missing couple found after 50 years”
Emmet’s eyes just about popped from his head. His coffee hand remained frozen half way between his mouth and the table. His eyes scanned the article looking for names.
Naw. Couldn’t be.
Not after all these years.
Then the name leapt off the page.
“Shit!” Emmett spat out
Clarence, they had found Clarence.

“Sweet ride you got there Clarence.”
Emmet coveted Clarence’s Car. A 1956 Buick Centurion. Some rich uncle had given it to Clarence for no special reason. Emmet was envious. The car was a thing of beauty. Sucking the breath out of Emmet’s chest every time he saw it. It had a claret red upper body, a brushed metallic finish on the lower portion and an all glass top and was powered by a 325 horsepower V8 engine. All this was topped off by wing-type" back fenders and the most amazing thing to Emmet was the camera in the rear to report traffic to the driver via a television screen in the dashboard, replacing the rear view mirror. Emmet thought of the car as a woman and secretly named her Angela. He certainly lusted after her the way other men lusted after women. Her hood sloped seductively and Emmet moved forward and lovingly ran his hand over it. Like he was making love to her. He stood back a bit admiring her curves then leaned in and stroked the soft red leather seats. Emmet got a woody every time he thought about being inside her. Emmet was in love. His friend knew of Emmet’s love for this car and Clarence, being his best friend since the age of 6 had promised it to him in his will. That was assuming his wife Betty died first. “Bitch” Emmet thought to himself. She doesn’t appreciate Angela anything like I do. And silently hoped Betty would be the first to go.
One afternoon at the close of the work day, Emmet approached his friend, and putting his hand comfortingly on his friends back in a monotone voice said, “Clarence, I need to talk to you.”
The tone in Emmet’s voice caused Clarence to think something serious was up. Emmet guided him to the back room of the Hardware store they mutually owned and worked at.
“Buddy” Emmet said solemnly,” I think you best sit down” The look in Clarence’s eyes was the saddest Emmet had ever seen. It was difficult to have to tell him of the rumors around town about his beloved wife Betty. “I’m sorry, so sorry Clarence but it’s some guy I never seen before. He was bragging it up in the pool hall last week. I got the idea that he was from over Abbotsford way but I can’t say for sure.” He looked at his friend more deeply now. Watched the tears well up in his eyes as he shook his head like he was trying to shake out what he had just heard and make it go away. “I felt you aught ta know.”
There were several moments of pained silence as Clarence listened to the sound of his best friend’s heart breaking. Then he slowly got up and stood over him. He put his hand on his friends shoulder saying “If there is anything I can do….” leaving the sentence trailing off at the end. Clarence shook his head again and continued to do so as Emmet walked out of the back room door and quietly shut it behind him.
It was several weeks later that Emmet’s wife Kate was trying her hardest to comfort Betty, Clarence’s wife. “I am so sorry to be the one telling you this, but I figured it was best coming from me than anyone else and if it had been anyone but Emmet telling me about this I would not have believed it myself.
” I love him so much” Betty sobbed. “He has never treated me any differently than the day we were married. I have never doubted his love. I don’t understand…. HOW? WHEN?? I can’;t believe he would ever do this to me.”
“Emmet told me he had been missing bowling for weeks now and asked him about it. He said that Clarence just mumbled something and walked away. The he told me he heard from someone that they thought they had seen Clarence over in Newholm at a bar there a couple weeks ago sitting in the back with a woman who did not look like you, so Emmet drove out to check it out this last Thursday. And sure enough there he was all snuggled up in a booth with her. I don’t know what else to tell you Betty. I am just so sorry. Please, I am here if you need me.”
That night at dinner Kate told Emmet about the conversation that had transpired earlier in the day. Emmet sat silent, moving his fork over and around his mashed potatoes but not taking a bite. He did not once look up. “Eat your potatoes dear before they get cold.” She pushed herself away from the table and walked to the sink with her plate in hand. Standing there gazing out at the darkening sky she felt an intense pity for her dear friend and started to cry.
“Sush up woman” Emmet said sternly. “Life happens. There’s nothing you or me can do about it.” At which point he got up so abruptly his chair fell over. He stormed out of the room leaving it where it fell and a full plate of food to get cold.
Months went by. Clarence’s sadness grew to rage at his wife’s betrayal. Her hurt festered and poisoning her thinking as she thought of his. The rest of the community had no idea how bad things had gotten between them. They kept to themselves. Then one evening a loud knock shook the front door. Not expecting visitors Betty jumped up from the sofa and peered through the curtain on the sidelight. Rushing back to the living room she whispered loud enough for him to hear,
“Emmet, There’s a police constable at the door.”
Emmet rose from the sofa, squared his shoulders and opened the door.
“Good evening Sir” the squarely built man in uniform said. “I understand you and your wife are friends of Clarence and Betty Roberts.”
“Yes we are. Is there a problem?”
“They have been reported missing by Mrs. Roberts’s mother. She said they were due for a visit 2 days ago and never turned up or called her. She has not been able to get an answer on their home phone so called us.”
Kate gasped behind him and Emmet turned and gave her a stern look. She walked back down the hall to the kitchen and waited for him at the table.
“I went to their home and his car is shut away in the garage but I got no answer at the door.” The officer continued. “Have you spoken to either of them recently?”
“No, I am afraid I have not”, Emmet answered. “I just assumed they had taken a weekend trip” Well it would seem not” the officer answered. “Please, if you think of anything don’t hesitate to call us. Thank you for your time and good night sir.”
Emmet closed the door and watched through the sidelight as the officer walked down the lane and over to the next house on the block. Moving away only when the officer looked back at the house.

That was about 50 years ago and it had been a long time since he had even thought about Clarence and Betty…Until today.
Emmet reread the line on the coffee stained paper before him.
They were found locked in an embrace.
The story would be the talk around town for days afterwards. Everyone would speculate. How sad, people would think. Sad and romantic. Such love and devotion. And thinking that in their final minutes they held tight onto each other, each trying to comfort the other. Not allowing the other to die alone. Locked in an embrace, going into death together and remaining in that embrace underwater for 50 years.

Betty had gone shopping and Emmet headed to his friends. He put a thought to them. He figured that maybe it was a good idea that they have some time for them, away from everything even if just for the evening. How about a row in Clarence’s old wooden boat out on Drag Lake he suggested. A favorite lovers location from the time they were all back in High School. Secluded and well off the beaten path. Maybe bring back some wonderful memories. Heck he even offered to drive them out. “Take a romantic ride” he said to them both. “Maybe things are not as bad as they seem. Enjoy the night, listen to the call of the loons, relax. Clear your head and remember how much you love each other. I will drive you out in my truck with your rowboat in the back and just have a snooze and wait for you on shore” Trust me he said.
So Betty and Clarence loaded themselves into the truck while Emmet retrevied a couple of Cokes out of the cooler in the back of the truck. They all drove in silence the 46 miles to the lake and as Clarence and Emmet unloaded the boat Emmet quietly said to his friend.
“I saw it for myself Clarence, your wife in the back seat of that man’s car, humping like a teenagers."
As his friend slid the wooden rowboat into the murky lake Emmet walked to Betty and gave her a hand out of the cab of the truck. He whispered so only she could hear,
“I know what I know and I am sure she meant nothing to him, but that woman did things to him any man would find hard to resist, I can hardly blame him.”
Emmet gave the boat a shove with his foot and sent it gliding out into the water. The knock of wood against wood as the oars banged against the side of the boat echoed across the still lake and off the shores along the way. Clarence and Betty sat facing each other in dead silence until he picked up the oars and started to row away from shore.
Emmet turned and went and sat in his truck for an hour or so then going to the tool box under his seat he removed the binoculars and wandered back to the shore. In the distance he could hear their voices rise. And without hearing the words he could tell they were arguing. He watch, as way out on the lake now they both stood wrestling, arms wrapped around eachother as they and thrashed back and forth, the boat rocking wildly. A loud splash resonated across the lake and Emmet watched for some time waiting to see if anyone surfaced. Another hour passed without any sound other than the lonely call of a loon.
Emmet then got back in his truck and drove the 46 miles home.
He opened the door and put his bowling bag in the hall closet. Kate watched as he walked to the kitchen and she got up and poured him a beer.

Glancing up from the paper he thought to himself. “50 years is a long time… there should be no evidence by now. The sedative he had laced their cokes with would no longer be present. Why would they even test them for anything? It was 50 years. It had already been determined as an accidental drowning and they had been buried. The crack he forced between the boards of the boat would be swollen shut. Heck, they never even found the boat; possibly it just drifted away, washed up on shore somewhere and rotted away. All he knew was that one way or another they were both gonna die out there, He figured that one would be murdered and and the would pass out in the sinking boat and drown.
Emmet sat and reflected on a job well done until he heard the sound of his wife coming back around to the front of the house. He got up and walked to the open window as his wife walked past the car again.
“Jesus Kate,will you keep the fuck away from Angela, you’ll get dirt all over her

True to his word Clarence had left the 1956 Buick Centurion to Emmet.
Credit is due to K. Husley for this amazing photo of this car. It was the only photo I found that did justice to the lines of this vehicle.
Maybe I am wierd but I think its beautiful.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

#fridayflash - Lilac

The sound of the traffic outside Emily's window woke her again.

As it had for as many days as she can remember.
She lay there for several moments enjoying the fresh scent of spring wafting in the window and gently blowing the clean sheer white curtains. She gazed at the play of shadow and light on the ceiling then resigning herself to another day.
She slowly climbed out of bed.
Emily slid her feet into the worn lilac slippers, shrugged herself into the matching robe and shuffled her way to the bathroom. She enjoyed the feel of the cotton nightgown as it brushed against her knees.
Emily’s bathroom was lilac as well. It was her favorite colour and looking around she felt the same pride she felt every day in having lovingly decorated it herself. Many years ago now, but she kept it as clean and fresh as the day it was completed. Lilac print wallpaper picked to match the scent of the lilac flowers that drifted into this room from outside the window every spring. Her mind drifted then
Her husband had decided to surprise Emily and so, on a particularly hot Mothers Day. He started hard at work while she was on her daily trip to the corner store. Emily arrived back only to find him laying face down beside the hole he had dug, the lilac bush removed from its pot and laying beside him. No one could say how long he had lain there. Emily had been gone for almost an hour and a half, stopping to chat along the way to the young mothers out on the beautiful spring day, their babies snuggled up inside their carriages, mosquito netting to keep the bugs off.
Late that night, long after everyone had left and her oldest daughter lay sleeping in the guest room, Emily wandered out of doors and finished planting the lilac bush in the cool night, with only the sound of the spring peepers to keep her company. Her tears falling into the soil that she pushed around the root ball and patted firm.
Coming back to the present, Emily looked at herself in the mirror. Wiped the tears and examined the lines around her eyes, and thought to herself,
"Here is another new one. I am sure it wasn't there yesterday"
She opened the sterile white cabinet and removed her toothbrush, loaded it with mint and swirled it around on her teeth.

Emily wanted to die.

She was not depressed. She was not ill, she was just very, very tired.

Her life had been full. Her wonderful husband taken from her far too soon. Over 30 years ago. Emily had 7 children she was proud of and so many grandchildren and great grand children it got difficult to remember just how many and what their names were. She did however recognize them as hers when at family functions.
She had been a social activist for many, many years. Holding strong and fighting for what she believed in. In the 1930s she was a member of the CCF, which later became the New Democrat Party. She was a strong advocate of Children’s Rights and Foster parenthood. And surprising to almost everyone with the exception of her children, she supported the legalization of marijuana.
Most recently, however, Emily became a member of the Right to Die Network.
Emily had all her teeth; she had her health and had led a long mostly happy, fruitful life.
But she was feeling them. She was just plain tired all the time.
Many letters had been written. And possibly many more were yet to be written. She was determined to see this through. Her children had accepted her decision. She wanted so badly to be able to plan her death by assisted suicide. To be able to have her children with her, to reminisce, and finally say thier goodbyes.
Now eating her bowl of oatmeal, covered in sweet melting brown sugar and milk, she composed her letter as she had morning after morning for more than two years. She enclosed it in the envelope and addressed it and would mail it like she had all the others when she went on her daily walk to the corner store. And as always, she would stop and chat with all the young mothers out with their babies.
On her way back to the bedroom to dress she glanced at the small overnight bag by the door.
It contained a freshly washed lilac cotton nightgown, her second robe and a new pair of lilac slippers. Tucked safely away, wrapped lovingly in her favorite scarf was the picture of her husband and herself. Harold, so dapper in his Sunday suit and Emily in her best spring dress wearing the same scarf wrapped over her hair to keep it from blowing. They were heading off to a Sunday picnic in his brand new 1940 Ford Deluxe Convertible. They were seated as close to each other as they could be without being one person. His arm protectively over her shoulder, and she leaning in to be as close as possible. Obviously, deliriously happy and in love.
The bag was ready, should word come that she will be granted her wish. And if she was fortunate enough to get word in the spring, she would go out and cut a bouquet of Lilacs to sit beside her bed in a vase so when the time came she could drift off to lilac scents’ and memories, at peace.
95 years was a long time, she was ready to rest.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

#fridayflash - To Realize a Dream

Susan sat in the reception area. Her back straight, knees and ankles tightly together. Her gaze rested on her purse placed precisely in the centre of her lap and her delicate hands were folded neatly on top.

She glanced up at the clock and sighed. It seemed like she had been waiting for hours, but in truth it had only about 30 minutes.

Sighing again, she let her gaze move around the room. There were other women waiting to be seen. She looked at the woman sitting directly across from her who chewed noisily on a wad of gum. She dissected the woman’s features. Eyes outlined with dark, heavy makeup. Lips painted on with a deep red. Skin that at first glance appeared flawless but on closer examination showed years of hard living and many lines. All this surrounded by waves of bleached blond hair. The woman’s breasts were outrageously large and bursting from her blouse that was far too small. Her skirt was shamefully short and rode high on her thighs leaving nothing to the imagination. Susan realized she was staring, and blushing, jerked her gaze back up to the woman’s face only to meet hard cold eyes staring back. A smirk crawled across the woman’s face, like she had some dark little secret.

Susan quickly looked away. She observed that all of the women in the room seemed to be cut from the same mold. The only difference between these cookie cutter women was the colours of their tight tops and short skirts.

Mother Nature called now and Susan rose from her seat and swayed gracefully across the carpeted reception area to the ladies room. She passed a woman who was now on her way out of the office that Susan was patiently waiting to be invited into. The woman looked unhappy. This could be good for Susan and she allowed a faint smile to play on her lips. She opened the door and entered the brightly lit room.

She moved across the floor to the last stall in the line. She went in and closed the door behind her and hung her purse on the hook on the door. She lifted her skirt, lowered her white cotton panties and sat down.

She listened.

Absolute quiet, which meant she was alone.

With relief she let go and emptied her bladder.

She pulled 5 crinkly folded sheets out of the dispenser and wiped herself dry then standing, she turned around and flushed the toilet, took her purse from the hook and opened the stall door. Her solid heals clicked on the tile floor and echoed around the room as she walked to the sink. She put her purse on the counter beside it and ran the water.

As she washed her hands, she glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. Honey blond hair neatly coiled into a soft bun at the back of her head, stray strands framing her beautiful face and perfect skin. She dried her hands with the rough paper and reached into her purse and quickly touched up her full lips with the soft pink she bought just the day before. She dropped the tube back into her purse beside the photo of herself she had taken the week before in one of the photo booths in the mall. She snapped her purse closed and quickly picking it up she accelerated out into the dimly lit reception area hoping that she had not missed them calling her name.

There were fewer women waiting now.

She no sooner got seated when a burly man sporting a day’s growth on his face leaned into the room from the aforementioned office and called.

“Susan, Susan Christianson.”

She quickly got up and a wavering smile flashed across her face. On legs that now felt like rubber she crossed the room towards him. He smiled back and ushered her into the office.

He pulled out the chair for her and she sat down, crossing her long legs. She smoothed her dress back down over her knees.

“Thank you for being so patient Susan.”

With no shame he began to devour her with his eyes. Taking in every young, fresh inch of flesh he could see, which wasn’t much, thanks to the dress she wore, but he had a vivid imagination and her curves were still evident under the sweater dress she had worn.

She felt his gaze and shifted in her chair feeling a bit uneasy reminding her that this was one step towards her dream. So many actresses had started out this way. At least that’s what she was told when she made the initial call to the number she found on the page that plastered itself against her leg in a gust of wind the previous week.


It read.


It was like fate, she thought as he started to speak again which pulled her back to the present.

“ I saw your screen test and I have to say I was very impressed. You say you have never acted before?”

“No.” she replied.

“Just some plays in high school but I loved it and have always wanted to pursue a career in it.”

“Well” he spit out.

“Say hello to the start of that career then. The lead part in the remake of ‘Debbie does Dallas’ is yours. Congratulations!”

He walked around the desk and shook her hand. She smiled feebly at him and he guided her to the door.

“My secretary will call you next week with the details.”

Susan now feeling a wave of mixed emotions floated past the woman she sat across from earlier who watched her go.

The woman pulled a worn picture of herself out of her purse and looked down at it.

Soft smile, perfect skin. Warm eyes

It was the picture she sat for in one of those photo booths the day of her first casting call.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

#fridayflash - The Letter

Words had always come easy to her.

The ability to express her feelings on paper or otherwise flowed like a waterfall. And she always felt refreshed afterwards.

But a bad marriage lodged a big rock in place and the words no longer flowed. Her creativity became stifled. Her ability to speak her mind or write her feelings, even the private thoughts that were so important to her, trickled to stop.

Speaking her mind, saying how and what she felt was no longer acceptable. It became a source of ridicule and criticisms. Because she was no longer allowed to feel anything other than worthless and ugly. She was useless.

A negligent wife.

A bad mother.

A sponge.

A pig.



She fought desperately to hold her head above the pain and keep a tight hold of who she once was but his constant criticisms and abuse held her down so firmly she thought she'd drown. She grew weaker. And like a person lost on the waves of the ocean, no life preserver, no land in site, she succumbed to the fatigue and let herself go under.

Her eyes fell to the words scrawled on the paper. “To my babies”

3 words.

It was all she could scribble in her now increasing fatigue. A fog was closing in. She searched in her daze for more words. They were there on the edge of her consciousness before she consumed the cocktail she had mixed, so she figured she was ready.

Now they were gone. It would seem there were now no words to make them understand why she had chosen this path. She just didn’t want them to feel they were responsible in any way.

She looked down at those words again. “To my babies” She noticed splotches of water had caused the ink to run. She reached up and felt her cheek.


She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried. Yet now they were streaming down her face and blurring the words on the paper that rested on her lap. A hard ache developed in her chest. Her throat closed on a choking lump. A light breeze kissed the dampness on her cheek and made it tingle. She was feeling something after an eternity of nothing. Then the realization hit her. Nothing she could write, no matter how clear or well said could make them accept that they no longer had a mother. Nothing would take away their pain any sooner.

On legs that she could barely control she got up and made her way through the hallway. The thick air grabbed at her, slowing her down. But now she was determined and battled it to her destination.

She picked up the phone.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Some releif

Worry has consumed me for days. Wearing me out, making me cranky.
No matter how old my children get I still fret, fuss and worry about them.
My oldest boy is a bit of a loner. He keeps to himself for the most part but occasionally enough I'd get a communication from him.  Just often enough to keep me from becoming frantic.. as I was today.
For the first Christmas since I can remember, he did not join us at all during the holidays.
Why? Lack of funds to get him here. No work in Guelph for him. Not yet anyway.
In Sudbury he never lacked for a job of some sort so I never had to worry. At least not that I know of but this time.. after years of me saying "if you ever need anything" he contacted me and he needed some help, which I happily gave. Since then, despite many communications from me I have had no response. No one had heard from him for some time. So, doing what I seem to do best, I began to worry, and as the days went from a few, to more than  month, I began to imagine the worst. I cried, I felt paniced, I had bad dreams.
Tonight, I got a call from my father, his grandfather to say he had recived an e-mail from my son early this morning. He called me because he knew how worried I was. I still am, but less so.
I hate this part of being a mom. The worry. How I am now vulnerable to so many more things than I was when it was just me I had to worry about. I wake every day and wish to myself that my children make it safely through the day, I wish for their health and thier happiness and I recite the same mantra when I climb into bed at night. I have done this every morning and night since the first one was born and I will do every morning and night till the day I die. It is the one habit I have. The one routine that I am faithful to every day of my life.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Easter Weekend

Easter Weekend... It couldnt have been any better weather wise. I ate too much.We had a birthday celebration on Saturday for Rogers brother, and went for an Easter Brunch on Sunday. Again, way too much food.
So, today, we went for an hour and a half long walk. That was when I realised just how out of shape I am. I want to lay down and have a nap... no....need to lay down and have a nap.
I won't though. I will struggle throuugh the rest of the day and crash hard at 9. Work tomorrow, bright and early because I do not have to get Liam up for school.
Tueusday, Liam will be presented with his orange strip in Karate then I am off to the big city for my annual check up on my eye at the Princess Margaret.
I go every year.
During a routine eye exam a spot was discovered on my eye that was not there during the previous exam. I was referred to a specialist who diagosed it as a tumour and now I visit every year for 5 years.
3 more visits after this one and if it does not grow, I won't have to go back.
Either way... It is a trip out of town and to the city. A bit of a nice change. I grab Cinnabon cinnamon rolls and shop at a few places then head home til next year, same date, same time, same place.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Game Night

Tonight, we play Hedbanz.
The object of the game is to guess what you are (The card in your headband) Everyone, with the exception of you of course, can see it and you have a minute to ask questions about it to figure out what it is. It gets silly at times and we eventually played by our own rules.

Does he know there is no card on his headband?? We could seriously mess with him.

It took almost 6 rounds before he guessed this one.

Alyssa playing her version of the game. "Am I green?"

I just like the way he is in focus and eveything else is blurred

Brother and Sister

"Seriously?? You think I can pull off this look?" You're just saying that."

Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Throughout my life. I have on occasion been hit hard with a realization. Previous to that moment that pulls my guts up through my throat, I have lived my life oblivious to the truth. Blissfully so.

This happened very recently. Something that I believed, proved not to be so after all. And it felt like a hard kick in the chest and knocked the wind right out of me. Again I found myself choking on that familiar lump in my throat as I have so many times before.

Now, one would think that as I got older I'd be less prone to this sort of thing happening, with age comes wisdom, or so they say, but apparently, that's not the case with me.

I have once again and likely always will put myself in a position where I set myself up believing, likely because I just want to so badly, something that isn’t so. Then finally seeing the facts and the truth of the matter and once again finding myself in tears because sometimes learning the truth hurts so damned much, and angry at myself for one again, being so stupid.

Friday, March 26, 2010

I never thought the day would come....

I never saw this coming.... and some of my friends won't beleive it when I say this.
I am sick of Swiss Chalet Chicken
I cannot believe it when I say it but I have had enough Swiss Chalet Chicken to last me a long time. I had it twice this week. I don't think I have EVER eaten Swiss Chalet Chicken more than once in a month. 
But here I went and ate it twice this week (Tuesday and Friday) and actually took advantage of the bottomless fries deal because I was short changed on my first plate.
Right now I don't think I ever want to eat it ever again.   But I am pretty sure I will aquire my taste again in time.
Maybe not.
We shall see.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Nice nite

Had a nice nite. Cooked dinner and talked ate dinner and talked played a game and talked. Did ome laughing and more talking more laughing then tidied up and all went home.
Thanks to Liam, (Son) Alyssa (stepdaughter) Miranda (daughter), Seguin (daugters significant other) and Roger (my significant other) plus two kitties (Smokey and Bandit) for their lap warming services 'cause it got colder as the evening progressed.  We hope to make this a regular thing... preferably Friday nights becuase we won't have to get up for work/school the next morning.  
Game nights are awsome.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

How friendships change over the years..

I rememeber when I was a kid, friends came easy.
You met another kid. You played a while. You became best friends.
It was easy, the whole process just fell into place. You played, you talked. You talked about EVERTHING. Who you liked... what you liked.... what you didn't like and who you didn't like, and why. I mean it was pretty basic. You didn't like a type of food becuase it tasted  "Icky" or you didn't like someone because they were mean to you. But that talk came easy and judgment was not a factor when you spoke to your friend.

As teenagers it got more compicated. There were those kids that were popular, for whatever reason. Usually based on looks or their parents financial situation. The poorer kids or the less lucky in the looks department got picked on, ridiculed, teased and left out. It is was during that time friends who were your friends once, were now no longer that because they fit into one of the aforementioned catagories and you didn't. 
You do eventully find your niche if you are lucky and have your absolute best freind, the one you tell all your secrets to, complain about your parents or boyfriend to and who is your shoulder to cry on when you need them.  They never judged or drew their own conclusions about what THEY think it means when you say something. They listened and comforted. I had a friend like that once. But life moved on, we moved away and I never was able to build that type of friendship again.
You see it in the movies, and on TV, adult women or women and men, as close as anyone can be short of being one person.
I have wished for that, looked for that, needed that, but have to date not found it again. And I don't think I ever will. Do those kinds of adult friendships exist in real life or are they a fabication of novels or the TV screen? Sometimes I so badly need a confidant. Someone I can bitch to, cry in front of and not feel silly. Somone who will let me vent and not pass judgement. I need that so badly but what I have to turn to is someone I have to pay when life overwhelms me and I get lost in sadness, frustration, confusion or anger.
This isn't menopause talking. This is a long time loneliness. The man in my life has a job that at present keeps him on call, so when I go to work I may have plans with him for the evening to find later in the day he will be working the night shift so I might get home in time to see him go out the door and when I wake to go to work he is heading to bed and chances are it is the same for several days in a row where we pass on the stairs or in the doorway.
I know lots of people, but I don't know that I have anyone I could call a friend like the ones I see on TV or read about.  And I know there are so many times I need to talk and there is no one I can turn to. There are times where I am so lonely I feel I could not bare another second of it and I choke on the lump in my throat.
I have people in my life I do call friends and who I admire and respect and do trust if I was to talk to them about all my troubles, trials and tribulations but none of these friendships are of the type I discribe. At least I don't think so. I don't like to assume anything. Some have the potential I think. I wonder if the real problem is that friendships like that take considerable time spent with another person in order to develop. And how many of us as adults have that sort of time anymore. Between kids, jobs, housework, etc etc. what time is there left beyond that. It is too bad really, because from where I stand, us as adults need those kinds of friendships more than we did as children.

It's a glorious day...

So I am kicking my butt outside.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

It gorgeous outside and I'm in here..


I have to write something.

My mind draws a blank even though throughout the week I thought of lots of things to write about.

My friend Cathy made a suggestion that I should write about a young girl her son knows and my personal encounter (virtual) with her, but 3 days after the fact the enthusiasm is gone. The energy that would drive what little creative mind I have left at the end of the day is spent and I come home and do the housework, cook the meals, and load the dishwasher, because thankfully I have one of those blessed devices. (I'd love to know who actually invented the dishwasher) Everyone knows Thomas Crapper was instrumental in making the toilet a popular item, contrary to popular belief he did not actually invent it, he did however invent the ballcock. That thing that floats and moves up as the water fills the tank and then shuts off the flow when its full. I believe the toilet is a Chinese invention. Anyway I am getting off topic… do I have a topic?

I have no idea who invented the dishwasher. Just a minute.. I will look that up…..

I’m back…

A Woman invented the dishwasher. Do you hear me men? A WOMAN. In 1886!! And not because she was the one washing this dishes. In this case she was wealthy and wanted a machine that could wash the dishes faster than her servants without breaking them. I knew there was a reason the phrase was. “Necessity is the MOTHER of invention”

Anyway, Her name was Josephine Garis Cochran. And she built it herself. After measuring the dishes she made wire compartments, each one designed to fit plates, cups, or saucers. These compartments were placed inside a wheel that lay flat inside a copper boiler. A motor turned the wheel while hot soapy water squirted from the bottom of the boiler and rained down on the dishes.

You go girl.
Josephine ROCKS!!

She eventually founded a company The Crescent Washing Machine Company that was later purchased and is now known as Kitchen Aid.
Now I know. And now you know.
A big thank you goes out to Josephine

Where was I? Oh Yah… too tired and unenthused to come up with anything to write about.

Maybe I will be inspired tomorrow.

Some other ads I found while looking for this image.

She is locked out of her bedroom because she didn't use Lysol.....
to douche. Hmmmm really?  Is this still recommended?

I have lots I could say about this one.  Captions are invited.

This one leaves me without words. Lots of thoughts... no words.

This is just plain cute.

Genius... I'd love to see this one used these days.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Happy Birthday to Me

Today.. was MY Birthday. And honestly, I have to say it was the best one I had had in a long time. As I have grown older I have spent a few of them alone, on my own, no man or family near to share them with. And as I have grown older, I have become OK with that.
Today I anticipated being alone, Roger had to wwork a night shift, Laim was away for a funeral. So I figured I would put in my work day and come home buy myslef some food and treat myslef to a sit in bed, in front of the TV wine in hand and do whatever and watch whatever I wanted.
Well. alas, that was NOT to be.
At work I was serenaded in a way that only Cathy can seranade, with her own unique version of happy Birthday. Then with chocolates and a wee bottle of scent in hand she gave me a Birthday hug.  I was so pleased. There was another more appropriate word here but I can't spell it so 'pleased' will have to do even though it is a gross misunderstatement. Latar Gail arrived with a Birthday balloon and another hug. Yay!!! Who doesn't love balloons. It bobbed about my desk all day inviting further birthday wishes from others in the office. Then that rascal Cathy lured me away from my desk on the pretence of buying me a birthday coffee. Well actually she DID buy me a coffee and when I returned to my desk there was a card on my keyboard with more Birthday wishes. I'm surprised I didn't cry. I am going on far too long about this but it was a long and happy day for me. so lets cut this short. Cathy and Dave treated me to dinner at thiers and MY favorite place 'Swiss Chalet Chicken'!!!.
Yay, yet again.
Then to top it off the staff sang a Birthday song when they bought dessert. The lyrics were something like this.
"I don't know but I've been told, somone here is getting old"
"something something somthing ine???
something something 59" ??? WHAT!!!!???
ah who cares... it was fun.
I got home to a parcel on the kitchen counter. From Rogers sister. Chimes... for my chime tree. Out front of the house.
My mom called and sang, my Dad and Betty called and sang. My daughter and step daughter texted me birthday wishes and I spoke to my oldest again later on the phone. and an email from my oldest son. oh and a birthday song and general silliness on the phone with Rogers brother and his wife.
I felt really loved today. What a wonderful feeling.
Happy Birthday to me.
Thanks everyone. I love you all.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

My son is 13 years old.
just over a week ago we lost my father in law. Someone my son cared about and had enjoyed the company of for every birthday celebrated, Christmas, Thanksgiving and most weekends for dinner and some weeknights at dinner time. He was saddened by the loss. Yesterday an uncle through marriage, someone he had known for more than half his life, died unexpectedly of a heart attack. One call to me at work from my son and I could tell her was hurting bad. It is strange watching a child in greif. Up one minute, down the next. You'd never know he was grieving then wham! Tears well up.
Last night he slept badly. Today he slept most of the day. I'd check on him and he'd open his eyes, look at me blankly then tell me he loved me then would drift off again. The boy has told me he loves me more in the last two days than he does in two weeks. He is sad because he will miss these people. Today he seem to be really feeling it. I hurt for him.

Thursday, February 25, 2010


I'd love to be able to write about my day. What I did. Who I saw. I cannot find the time to do anything of interest these days. I have not played cards, talked on the phone for longer than a minute or two, watch TV. read a book or magazine. I eat, work, cook, sleep.
I AM BORED.. I am so friggin' bored.  yet I am way to busy to have any sort of time for myself. Where does the time go?????  The work around the house piles up higher and higher. Things I need to take care of get put on hold because I do not have the time. I am tired.. I am frustrated... I am lonely. I am bitchy... and I am wining about it. My life feels like it is spinning out of  control.
Someone please stop it.....  I want to get off.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

What comes now?

My father-in-law is no longer scared.
That's because he passed away this last Saturday.
And now I wonder......
When we leave our bodies. after our bodies die... where does the personality go? Where does, what makes us who we are, go?  Is that trapped inside the lifeless shells that once housed us forever, or does it leave and float out to who knows where and dissipate like the charge of electricity that flashes through the sky during a lightning storm.
I know that differant faiths have their ideas on that.
I don't live by those beliefs.
I have no clear thoughts on that.
I still wonder. The same way I always have when I look down at somene I loved and see the face I recognize but feel the lack of  'them'.  I wait for eyes to open and smiles to appear and wonder if they are wishing they could as they lay trapped inside that body.
What I hope is that they are now floating above the body that served them for many years, looking down on the people they loved and who loved them back and that in this new space are able to feel actually feel the love sent their way.
And in the same way that blanket that I imagine slowly warms and comforts them as they die, the love from the people that were part of their lives flows over them, refreshing them and leaving them feeling healthier, stronger and happy as that love flows over and through them and they get carried away to some wonderful place. Full of sunshine, or starlight, brooks babbling, spring peepers and fresh warm breezes. Coffee brewing, bacon frying. And the people who they loved who passed before them. Whatever sounds, smells, or sensations gave them pleasure in life. Nothing negative, no fear, pain, or conflict.
Is that what 'Heaven' is?

Monday, February 15, 2010

Life... and .......

My father in law is dying.
It is not news that is new to us, but very recently he took a turn for the worse after a couple months of appearing healthy.
Saturday was his birthday.
Tuesday of this week I was up to see him and as I hugged him hard when I went to leave he said
"Careful, we may just get stuck this way" and I said
"Now that wouldn’t be so bad would it?
I have not had the opportunity to get back in to see him, he took very ill on Wednesday with flu like symptoms. He has not been well since and has grown weak.
He is back on Oxygen.
We were supposed to bring him home today for family day and a small BD celebration. Is that what you still call it when the guest of honor is dying. Either way… he won’t be coming home today. He doesn't have the strength.
Roger and his brother went to see him last night and told us he is having difficulty talking, his speech is slurred. He doesn’t know where he is, or why. He thinks he is in Toronto. He is very weak and unable to get out of bed. This is a big change from when I saw him on Tuesday at which time he flew out of bed and into the washroom with seemingly little effort.
He knew he was dying.
Last week he said he was scared.
So, is this confusion he is experiencing a blessing?
I hope so. I do not want him to be scared any more. And I hope no one will tell him the truth about why he is there.
I don't think it will be long.
I really hope it will be as effortless and easy as just feeling real tired. I hope he gets to experience that wonderful feeling one gets when they are so exhausted the very act of lying down is heaven. I love that feeling when you are aware of yourself falling asleep. Like a big warm blanket is being slowly drawn up over your body. I hope that when his time comes that is how he feels. Extremely relaxed….. and warm…. and safe as he drifts off. Unaware of what is really happening.

And not afraid.

Saturday, February 13, 2010


My feet are cold.
Just saying.

Feeling Better today

Well, my mouth doesn't hurt as much as my dentist warned me it might.
I want to eat something.
I should avoid nuts I think, but then that would mean ignoring most of the people I love.
I vow to stop chewing hard candy and make every effort to suck them instead.
I will go have some cream of wheat.
That's gotta be safe.

Friday, February 12, 2010

The Dentist

My mouth is frozen. As close to frozen solid that a mouth can get. My dentist froze the top left of my face and what ended up being several needles later the bottom right of my face. I feel like the right half of my face is gone. My tongue feels only half there. I am walking around the house, Kleenex in hand to wipe any and all saliva that escapes my lips. And there are generous amounts of it. Because my lips won’t work right, so forget about talking. It’s easier to just nod right now.
How did I end up in this predicament?
Eating. Eating is not my friend lately.
I cracked a filling 2 weeks ago eating a granola bar and the one piece of the filling got wedged between the tooth it was in and the one behind. I walked around for all that time feeling like I had a stick stuck between my teeth that made me crazy because I wanted to remove it. My dentist said it was a good thing I had left it there because it would have exposed a nerve and cause me great discomfort.
Then, on Tuesday of this week I was chomping on a candy heart. I love those things, or I used to because I broke a tooth.


So $596.00 Later I cannot feel my mouth which temporarily is a good thing. My dentist warned me I could be hurting later. He had to jam the needle during the 3rd bout of freezing the bottom right, into some jaw muscles in may face to finally get me frozen enough. I still cannot fathom the idea of 4 hands and countless instruments in my mouth. How is that possible?? I have no picture to illustrate. A cannot open my mouth wide enough. I have his cell phone number just in case I need drugs. He said he will be away for 5 days but do not hesitate to call if I need to.
He is going to see the Olympics.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Cat conversations...

My cats follow me into the bathroom every morning and sit and talk to me while I have my bath.

I never thought much of it until this morning while I was having my conversation with Smokey.
"Did you sleep well?' I ask him
That’s nice, glad to hear. I slept like crap. How late did you stay up, cause I thought I heard you running about around midnight?"
"Meow, meow, bblllrrrrr???" (best way to describe a sound he makes)
"Really" I respond with feigned fascination.
"And what about Bandit?"
Right on queue she is meowing at the door wanting in as well. She was sleeping on the chair as I trudged by.
I lean back and turn the knob on the door and she enters being very vocal as if saying.
"Well… let ME tell you about my night because he has NO idea what I did, Don't EVER listen to him about what I do because he'd have you believe I do nothing but lay around all the time while he hunts mice and bugs."
They begin some cat conversation between themselves and my mind wanders....

What are my cats REALLY saying to each other while they join me in the bathroom in the morning?

Bandit asks Smokey
"Have you figured out how she gets her fur off?"
"Nope I haven’t. It’s seldom the same way two times in a row. Sometimes she pulls it over her head. Other times she removes it from the front, and sometimes from the back. And it’s always in two or more pieces. I’d like to know how it is that she does it. I have looked and cannot find anything on me that will open and let me take my fur off like she does."
“Let me look" says Bandit. She moves in and sniffs him along his back and his chest. .
"Nope there appears to be nothing that will allow you to open and remove your fur"
Smokey says “I wonder why she doesn’t remove the fur off of her head though?"
“Beats me.” Bandit trills in response as she jumps down from the cabinet and up onto the side of the tub and looks at me more closely.

“I think she’s had kittens"
“How can you tell?” Smokey inquires.
"Well, look at her. Her mammary glands are swollen, and she only as two. I have 8.” She states proudly. ”I am so glad I have not had kittens. I’d hate to have MY mammary glands look like that.” She spits out in disgust.
"You don’t suppose that’s what we look like if we could take our fur off do you? Smokey asks.
"I pray to Bast not." responds Bandit.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

The ghost of this Past Christmas

My Christmas tree is still up.
Not in all the colourful glory it had during the festive season, but somewhat diminished.
It sits, a sad dull green shadow of its former glorious self…. alone and sad in the vestibule. The top folded up, the lights partially untangled from its branches and hanging in the front.
The ornaments were removed two weeks ago. And the ribbon that wound through its boughs was removed this Friday night when I felt a wee bit of energy beyond the drugs for pain and symptoms. The energy was short lived. In the time it took me to pull the ribbons from the tree and pile them on the floor the cats moved in to investigate. And I quit.
There were photos to be taken. Smokey had burrowed into the glittery bed. And Bandit soon followed.

Nothing can get done around here, no one can arrive here, without one or both of our feline cohabitants coming to investigate. They are a very active part of this household. Involved in every family gathering, whether it is a birthday, holiday or just time in the living room or kitchen. Smokey is the first one to greet anyone at the door and claim them as his. Bandit soon follows but is less eager than Smokey to lay claim to people or objects.
I suppose she is just waiting to be sure it’s safe. And I suspect that’s the way Smokey likes it to be.

So it might be a few more weeks before my tree is finally down.
There have been so many things higher on the priority list to deal with first. Its disassembly comes in bits and pieces. The lights will be off next week, and maybe the weekend after that the tree will finally come down. Getting this stuff all put away will happen when we can get to it.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Chinese food....

My fortune cookie read....
You are the crispy noodle in the vegetarian salad of life.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Somebody Kill me....NOW

Just kidding... please don't. I dont recall the last time I hurt so much all over. I thought medical science had pills for this.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

I'm sick.....

shoulda seen it coming.... felt it all week and thought I'd feel better tomorrow and then the day after that said to myelf I'd feel better tomorrow.
The yesterday after the whole driveway fiasco I went to bed tired as hell not feeling any worse than I had the days previous but thinking I'd call in sick and rest before it takes me over.
Too Late... I woke this morning feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. Seriously. I ached sooo bad. top to bottom. head to toe. Go to bed....sleep.... get out of bed drink.. get into bed.. watch some TV.. sleep again. eat a bit...
all combined with the taking of verious drugs to ease pain, clear my nasal passages. Holy cow. I want to die. I'm going back to bed.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Driveway from hell.....

I have never, ever held back on how I feel about the driveway that leads up the hill to the house I live in.
Heck I volunteer my feelings abou it to absolute strangers.
I hate it that much.
In the winter that is.
In the warmer months, when there is no snow to coat its surface it is quite pretty. The lawn on the right and garage built into the hill on the left then you kind of wind around to the right a bit as you climb to the parking area on the left behind the previously mentioned garage. At the top you are greeted by lovely gardens, a patio with a shelter , Muskoka chairs and a pond stocked with gold fish and a little waterfall from the rocks. There are planters full of brightly coloured flowers and birds in the trees. It is a little slice of heaven then.
Come winter it the Dr. Jekyll of driveways. I dread driving down it in the mornings and attempting to make my way up it at night when the weather has done something drastic. Tonight, after a nasty drive home and too many errands to run I made my way across town feeling the familiar churning in my gut as I got closer to home. Along Centre street my phone rang and it was Roger calling to inform me that he had gotten up with no difficulty. So although it alleviated some of my building anxiety, there was still a large portion when I ventured up the drive now covered with about 5 inches of snow. When I left this morning I knew it was ice underneath but made it down safely because it was cold I suppose. I made it up the first rise and turned my wheels to steer around the garage and attempted the second rise. The steeper of the two. This one because it is combined with the turn is always tricky for me. But all winter I had successfully made it but this time, part way up I lost any traction whatsoever and began to slide backwards, in spite of the fact that my wheels were still attempting to carry me forward. So I eased off the gas and attempted to brake.
I was still sliding backwards.
I attempted to steer to avoid the rock pillar on the right and get between the partial rock wall buried under the snow on the left. I managed to avoid both those obstacles but still slid out of control backwards, towards the road, now painfully aware of my son in the back seat and in the line of any traffic that might not see our predicament and would be unable to stop for us as we slide out onto the road. I tried to keep calm so as to not make Liam panic. Using my favorite cus word. “Crap, crap, crap” fired from between my lips in machine gun fashion.
I cannot see the traffic because my line of site is blocked by the stone pillar at this point but I am hearing it fly past behind me. The car suddenly stops. Thankfully.
I am wedged between the two snow banks near the bottom of the drive. Well stuck.
So I order Liam out of the car and he climbs up the snow back and over the front end of the car to walk up the drive. I feel better because he is safe. He sends Roger out.
Being me… I have a minor flip out because the drive has not been sanded.
I make a lot of noise on a regular basis about how important it is for everyone’s safety that it be sanded. Not just scraped of snow. Whenever I have to clean the drive I always sand it. And hjave mentioned that I’d appreciate the same. But I realize it falls on deaf ears. And I wonder why it is a man thinks that if he doesn’t slip and fall or get stuck part way up the driveway no one else should.
I march up the hill with a full head of steam to dig sand out of the bin. Heaven knows we have an ample supply of the stuff. Meanwhile Roger has gone down to rescue my car and I hear a familiar voice call out.
"Hey can I give you a hand? I was driving by and saw your car and figured I could hook you up to my truck with a chain and pull the back end around.
And before Roger can say “No, I’ve got it”
I am not sure he was going to but I wasn’t going to take that chance. I yelled down the Hill.
“I would be ever so grateful”

Flashback to seven years ago.
I worked at a real Estate office and a man came in looking for property.
Solid build. Black hair kept on the long side and a full beard and moustache. Nice eyes and real personable. We spoke at length about some properties on the board as well as some other stuff. Life, kids, jobs stuff. We never exchanged names. Over the years we have run into each other time and time again and always stop to have a bit of a chat. I have met his wife and kids and he has commented on how my son has grown. It’s like we are old pals without ever having been pals in the first place. It’s a strange yet comfortable familiarity.

Back to today.
That’s who was offering help at the end of my driveway in the blizzard.
He waited patiently while Roger made attempts to get my car unstuck but only managed to get it wedged in and up on a bank now. Roger got out of the car and, “He” being my friend whose name I do not know said
” I’ll get out my chain and hook you up.”
I don’t know why but Roger came up and asked me about him…. if I knew him… because of the way I was speaking to him. I said honestly. I have known him for about seven years but I cannot tell you his name.
I went around the corner behind the house to get sand if it was needed and I did not want to see what they were going to do with my car.
Needless to say at this point, my car was gotten out of the jam it was in and safely up the drive and parked.
But I was still fit to be tied.
Being hormonal, I raged at poor Roger.
Vented about how he knows how I feel about the driveway and the need for sand and that him being able to get up it doesn’t mean everyone can. I told him how horrible it feels to be sliding down the dive potentially into traffic with a child in the back seat. And he’d be the first one hit if we were in the path of anything.
His response was,
“Well a comet could hit the house too.”
And I lost it.
Why, because his attitude struck me as so cavalier. My fear was real. It was not as farfetched as a comet hitting the house.
I pointed out that the house was on a busy road, I had no control over the car as it slid surprisingly fast down the drive and it made me sick to my stomach with fear. I was helpless to stop it and keep my son safe
What is it men don’t get about how mothers feel about our children.
I was mad and am now spent.
This is poorly written, but I am too tired to care.
I’m going to bed.