Much Ado About...

2011-11-20T20:03:00.000-08:00

Its been a tough day.. tougher than most. If it could go wrong.. it did. And as a result.. I had a melt down followed in short order by a good cry. The kind that makes it hard to breathe between the wracking sobs.

I am feeling somewhat better now.

Mostly... I am just real REAL tired. Not lack of sleep tired although that's part of it.. Its tired of life tired.

My boyfriend sees this. Bless his heart he tries everything he can to help. But there is only so much he can do.

I want to go back to bed and start this day over... but I can't.
So...
Get up in the morning and endeavor to have a positive attitude and get off this track.

I have some unpleasant tasks to take care of in the coming months.

One at a time.. I need to deal with it instead of obsessing about it.

Go at it from a different angle.

Get up and regroup.

A day at a time.

Weekends

2011-11-20T13:54:00.000-08:00

Weekends take too long to arrive, and don't last near long enough.'

As usual, the plans for things I needed to get done were put aside for things that came up and HAD to be done first. This weekend, it was the loss of the Internet connection.

For some reason everyone looks upon me as the computer geek of the household. So when the Internet cacks out or their computer is not acting right there is a knock on my door and an ask for help.

Friday, as I am rushing out the door to work I was confronted by two members of the household telling me they could not connect to the Internet.

FRACK!!! as Cathy would say.. at least I think its Cathy says that. I think to myself.. "seriously?? is the world going to frikin end at 6:50 in the frikin morning because you cannot connect to the Internet??"'

"Did you refresh your network?" I ask as I rush past to the bathroom? I am referring to the little pop up menu on the bottom right that shows the available connections. I do not know if thats the technical term for it but they both know what I mean.

"No" they say in unison, the looks on their faces a mix of bewilderment and panic.

"Try that" I say and I load my toothbrush with '3D white' and turn it on.
In an instant they return, big puppy dog eyes and say "That didn't work."

"Well I don't know what to tell you guys, I don''t have time for this right now, I have to head to work"'
I say this as they trail after me, laptops open and cradled in their hands. I pass through to the kitchen and pour a cup of tea into my travel mug and look out the window at the snow coming down.

I feel their eyes on me. Waiting for some miracle to happen just because I know they have no Internet. I go to the closet and pull my coat out, hearing them follow close behind. I turn.

Puppy dog eyes, pleading for me to fix this.

"So what do we do then?" one of them asks.

"Read a book" I reply as I rush out the door.

In my rear view mirror I see the image of the two of them standing in the kitchen looking lost.

So, that night I determine it has nothing to do with the Internet coming into the house but with the router we bought almost a month ago. We drive to the store and the sales clerk sends up home with a replacement, which for some god awful reason refuses to install as easily as the first one. It does not want to install at all. In the process my Internet to the house disappears as well.

After at least an hour checking connections, settings etc. and 2 hours on the phone with Sympatico support. I ended up fixing it myself when the phone connection with Sympatico support got cut off. I hate to do it but I reset the modem and my connection was back. Next I spent 45 minutes with Cisco tech support. Things are running again.

I should of played up the dumb blond card years ago. It's too late now.

Who I am

2011-11-19T16:47:00.000-08:00

Lately the need to write, or the ability to do so escapes me.

I enjoy spinning a tale but it does not come easy to me.. it has at many times been a creative outlet reflecting on, or helping me deal with the issues in my life.

I expect my life is no different than anyone else's, but at times it feels worse than most and it overwhelms me..

I am 53 years old and have still yet to feel comfortable in my own skin.

I had thought by now I would have a certain amount of confidence. NOT.

I had thought by now Id have gotten over being the kid who was bullied and teased in the school yard. NOT.

I am sensitive to being teased. I do OK with a bit, but after a while I begin to feel hurt', centred out and embarassed and eventually withdraw from the person doing the teasing because I find I begin to second guess their motives.

I suspect this goes back to the school yard.

What this amounts to is, I am painfully shy and try very hard to pretend I am not. In that attempt, I am sure I come across as awkward and weird to some people.
I try to come across as confident, but again I am not. and again...I am sure I come across as awkward and weird.

I have a couple of very dear friends who know this and see beyond it to who I really am and I cherish them with all my heart. One, is my daughter. Who would have guessed my daughter would be one of my closest friends.

The other is a woman who used to be my boss. Her and her husband hired me to work as the receptionist/whatever else needed doing plus on air stuff, at their radio station.

Neither of them judges me, both of them are an ear when I need it and I know they would be there in a pinch if I asked. And I am sure they know it's a two way street.

So, at my age, I live my life not sure of most of the relationships I have. The one with my parents is a given. They love me and do not judge me either.. I do not doubt that for one second. But to avoid worrying them I keep life and its trials to myself.

My daughter and my other friend are my rocks. They see past my shyness and awkwardness. They tease mildly and lovingly seeming to sense when to stop.

I used to think the number of friends you had was important and was a direct reflection of who you are.

It is not the case.

It is the quality of the friends you have. The ones who really care and will listen and support you during the good and the bad. The ones who are with you during the good times and laughter and remain when the times are not so good and you need to vent and whine.

That, in my mind, is a true friend.

I have two.

I am very fortunate.

Thank you to our Veterans - past and present

2011-11-03T13:12:00.000-07:00

Today, on my way home from work I sat in traffic behind a little blue-grey Neon with a sticker that read

"My daughter is fighting for your Freedom"
I wanted to get out of the car and tell the older gentleman driving the care ahead of me
"Tell her I said Thank you"

But since we were waiting in traffic I thought it was not a good idea.

I am against war, but sadly it is part of life.

So I just wanted to say, "Thank you" to all those men and women, past and present, who have gone and go to war and risk their lives to defend the freedoms and rights of our country and our people.

Not very eloquently pu,t but I think anyone can see what I am trying to say.

Me - my Thyroid - my frustration

2011-11-01T16:11:00.000-07:00

Someone said to me.. after I had vented YET again about my difficulty in losing weight because of my hypothyroidism, that I must be doing something wrong.

I was upset by their statement because I got the impression that they figured I was using it as an excuse.. that I was full of bunk, because they had a friend who was hypothyroid but started exersizing and lost weight and now they are no longer hypothyroid.

They had no idea what I eat, but seemed to think they did based on what little they really know about me.

I was hurt because I admire this person a great deal. They have been very successul in their weight loss program that we, as it turns out started at about the same time. They have lost in excess of 40 pounds to my 1.5

As I already stated, I attribute my difficulty to the fact that I suffer from hypothyroidism (Diagnosed 24 years ago) I was told by my doctor at that time weight loss would be difficult and a nutritionist told me that I would have to put in 10 times the effort of a person who is not hindered by an underactive thyroid.

Hypothyroidism comes about for many reasons.

Pregnancy can bring on a bout of it. Viruses can also inflame the thyroid gland and cause its function to become reduced (hypothyroidism) temporarily.

My 14 year old son tested hypothyroid and during later testing his function was back to normal. The doctor said it was likely brought about by a virus.

Unfortunately, mine is not temporary. It was not caused by a virus or pregnancy. Don't know why it came out other than it runs in my family. And I will have it for the rest of my life.

Hypothyroidsm slows metabolism and affects essentially every system in the body. Symptoms include generalized fatigue, weight gain, thinning (brittle) hair, dry scaly skin, thin nails that break easily, constipation, alterations in the menstral cycle, aching muscles, and a slow heart rate. There is a decreased ability to concentrate, reading and calculating are more difficult, Hypothyroidism can cause or worsen depression.

Symptoms also include loss of appetite, painful pre-menstrual periods, muscle weakness, a yellow-orange coloration in the skin (particularly on the palms), yellow bumps on the eyelids, hair loss (including eyebrows), recurrent infections, depression, slow speech, lowering of the voice, premature aging and drooping swollen eyes.

The effectiveness of my medication changes according to when I take it.. how I take it. What foods I eat within a certain time frame of taking it. I have been overmedicated with my heart rate accelerated to a dangerous level and undermedicated so its tough to get out of bed and get my body going. I have learned to watch my intake of all food and meds and vitamins accordingly.

I have it easy compared to many other people out there who suffer with truly cronic conditions and diseases. So I am not looking for sympathy. What I do have issue with is when people who have not dealt with how it feels at times, think they know what I am up against.

I exersize. And I do not slack when I do. I am not one who takes a leisurely walk and thinks it will be enough. I get up early so I can get in 20 minutes on the eliptical in my bedroom. I go to the gym every other night and spend 20 to 30 minutes walking briskly on the treadmill, because my ankle does not yet allow me to run. (another story) I move to the Rowing Machine and do 20 minutes on that.. on the highest tension, then I weight train for 20 minutes or more. It is an intense workout. I sweat heavily and breath hard, attempting to achieve what should be my target heart rate. I get it to around 120 give or take and keep it there for a minimum of 35 minutes. My resting heart rate is 60 beats per minute. I will soon be 54. I have more stamina than my boyfriend who is 8 years my junior and also more than both our boys who are 15.

Weight loss is not easy for anyone. I agree. Try weight loss with a condition that by its nature makes it more difficult.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 30

2011-08-16T03:29:00.000-07:00

Technically, these should have been posted last night.. when I took them, on the official last day of my 30 day challenge. Some medical news bummed me. But on the good side, my oldest son was visiting. In the end I was very tired and went to bed. So here are the photos now.
Driving down a dirt road at night. a series of photos with a long exposure time. Trees rushing past. I like them. Maybe it's just my mood. Either way this is the last post of my 30 day challenge. I failed to post every day I missed 3 in total.... 5 if you count the late posts. Maybe I will try again.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 29

2011-08-14T19:16:00.000-07:00

This was tonights dinner.. and tasty it was.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 26

2011-08-11T18:06:00.000-07:00

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 25

2011-08-10T20:22:00.000-07:00

Day 25. Close to being done my 30 day Photo Challenge.

I wish that was the case with the construction crews outside my home bright and early evey morning. From early morning till early evening they are digging, scraping, hauling dirt, filling holes, pulling up road and curbs and sidewalks. Stirring up dust and pissing off drivers. I am amazed at how many people get impatient and blast their horns. PEOPLE....there are alternate routes.. take them if you have no patience. Quit pulling out and driving out of turn in spite of the sign that guy in the yellow hard hat and safety orange vest is holding. It says "STOP" Maybe I'm stupid but I never thought that STOP was an invitation to muscle your way ahead, putting yourself and other people in danger. I never understood that sort of impatience. I have no patience for impatience. LOL.

Here is one of the machines working in front of my house... every day.. all day for up to 20 weeks.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 24

2011-08-09T18:03:00.000-07:00

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 23

2011-08-08T16:39:00.000-07:00

The New Tenant

We have a pond off the patio. and this little fellow had taken up residence along with another.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 22

2011-08-08T16:18:00.000-07:00

Sorry. This on is a day late. It was taken yesterday but circumstances prevented me from posting it before days end.

Lily

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 21

2011-08-06T15:09:00.000-07:00

A before and after

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 20

2011-08-05T19:49:00.000-07:00

I missed Day 19. I had the shot planned out. I trip to Rama with my daughter to see Jeff Dunham and at some point I was going to take a candid shot of my beautiful girl, 'cept, in the rush, I forgot the camera at home. We got home after midnight so technically day 19 was over and done with.

Here howeve,r is day 20.

I beleive this is the set of wires that provide our phone services. I could be wrong. I just took the photo.

#fridayflash - Pre Wedding Jitters

2011-08-04T04:48:00.000-07:00

Monica went over the conversation in her mind.

She and Karen had been discussing her upcoming wedding day and Monica was getting nervous.

"No" she answered to Karen's question about cold feet. "I absolutely have no questions about marrying Dan, I love him with all my heart and have no doubt we will be able to work through everything and anything we encounter. It's the things that go wrong on wedding days, the stories you hear about the flowers not arriving on time, or the DJ not showing. That's what I am afraid of"

"You know what " Karen stated. She was much older than Monica. The same age as Monica's mother as a matter of fact, and she often took it upon herself to give Monica 'motherly advice'. "That may happen, and then again it may not. But what's important to remember is how much you and Dan love each other and this is your day to celebrate your love and enjoy. If things go wrong, try not to focus on them so much, don't let them ruin your day"

"Make Lemonade" Karen said. "You know what I mean right?" she asked, nodding her head.

"I do" Monica answered " that's great advice."Thank you."

The guests were seated. The music was playing. And the flowers had not arrived.

Monica stood in her wedding gown at the sink in the kitchen in the church basement. Brushing the veil away from her face she squeezed another lemon into the pitcher containing sugar.

She added cold water from the tap and stirred vigorously.

"I don't see how this will help" she thought.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 18

2011-08-03T19:25:00.000-07:00

Apples.

Photographed on the kitchen table this morning at 6 a.m.

Manipulated with a photo editing program I just aquired.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 17

2011-08-02T19:26:00.000-07:00

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 16

2011-08-01T10:29:00.000-07:00

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 15

2011-07-31T19:58:00.000-07:00

This is Smokey... who you have seen before.

Best cat EVER!!!

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 14

2011-07-30T18:28:00.000-07:00

This is one of three planters I put in on the pillars on the road side of the lot. LOVE these. Will do them again next year. Nothing special about this photo.... nothing interesting other than I am so pleased with the way they turned out.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 13

2011-07-29T18:12:00.000-07:00

This is Baxter.

Baxter belongs to my neighbours who shall remain unnamed.

Baxter is a cross between a Chihuahua and a Jack Russel terrier and is a wonderful little dog. His mom/owner has trained him well.

Every day when I arrive home, if Baxter and his owner are outside, he tugs at his lead to be able to come over and say his hellos.

He did not want to stay still for the photo at this point however. Dinner was waiting inside

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 12

2011-07-28T18:29:00.000-07:00

Echinacea

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 11

2011-07-27T19:13:00.000-07:00

This is Smokey as seen through the old screen on the sunroom windows. Back before they were plastic the screens were made of some sort of metal. Therefore the picture is as you see it. He is peeking out at me standing up on his hind legs, paws on he window sill.
He loves that room as much as I do

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 10

2011-07-26T17:06:00.000-07:00

There is a reason thay call this plant 'Bee' Balm. Just when you thought my photos were boring I post this one.

Hey, getting this close to a bee was an adventure.' Bee'lieve me, I was ready to jump back casue I had my face only the width of the camera and a couple inches away from this guy. OK boring for you but not for me. He was actually quite sedate. I managed many photos as he moved in and out from 'bee'tween the petals.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 9

2011-07-25T16:51:00.000-07:00

Today Roger went fishing.. some people have to work.... not him.... at least not every day....so he fishes. And he brought home some large mouth bass to filet up for dinner. We prepare it like fish and chips.

Love it.

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup baking powder
1 teaspoon salt

Whisk together the flour, milk, water, baking powder, and salt in a bowl until smooth.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 8

2011-07-24T15:22:00.000-07:00

This is a glass, on the patio table catching the light from the evening sun. It is out of focus.. intentionally.
Nothing special to be said about it beyond that.
I think I will take my camera to work tomrrow and see what I can catch.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 7

2011-07-23T16:10:00.000-07:00

OK OK boring again....

so I spiced it up with the use of a filter in PhotoShop.

Today was the local Garden Tour. We have done it for 4 or 5 years now. Some gardens were OK, some were very nice, some were not to our taste and one was spectacular. The photos I took of that one did not do it justice so I chose not to post it. But I liked the centre on this flower. And I liked how the filter punched up the colour and made it a bit more interesting. If I could find my manual for this camera I would read it and figure out how to use all the settings in a way that would make even the most boring photos more interesting.

My camera is a Canon OES 50D.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 6

2011-07-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

Wow!.. I made it to Day 6. BUT it's still boring. Seriously boring.
BUT as you see I have my book. I have a drink and have just finished a thin crust spinach pizza. My PJs are on and my legs are up as a recline stretched out on the day bed.. see previous photo... and I don't have to work tomorrow. Life is good.
I hope to find something a bit more interesting to post a photo of this weekend.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 5

2011-07-21T15:04:00.000-07:00

This is Gooseneck Loosestrife

I fell in love with this flower when I saw it in a friends garden. I had never seen it before and a day or two later... there it was.. in the WalMart garden centre. I bought three.

Now, if the squirrels would stop using it to break their fall from the clothesline it might do OK.

Note: Yes I know it's more flowers. My life is dull as all heck.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 4

2011-07-20T16:32:00.000-07:00

This is Bandit. Sidekick to Smokey. But honestly, she's the one who rules the roost so to speak. I initially brought Bandit home as a companion for Smokey because being alone all day Smokey got bored and got into stuff and made messes. Getting on shelves and on top of cabinets and dressers and knocking stuff onto the floor. I figured that would stop once he has someone to play with during day.

Ended up he taught her all his bad tricks and I was coming home to bigger messes.

Age and being fixed has mellowed them both.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 3

2011-07-19T19:57:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have a collection of chimes in the maple tree outside the sunroom window. This is one of them. from below, up into the tree.

30 Day Photo Challenge - Day 2

2011-07-18T17:17:00.000-07:00

This is the Sunroom in my home.

It holds a cot piled high with cushions to sink into. (seen here) a small desk, a side table a lamp table and two chairs.

And books.

It is my favorite room in the house and if it was up to me, it would remain open all year. But it is uninsulated and has windows on 3 sides so at some point after Thanksgiving it gets closed up.

A Maple tree sits outside the front window and holds my collection of chimes. When the breezes blow the sound is .. I wish I could describe it but I can't other than to say it calms me when I am tense and lifts my spirits when I am down.

The dappled sunlight shines through the leaves on the trees amd streams in and casts a soothing light over everything and the windows open to let breezes through.

On days when I am fortunate enough to have the luxury, I curl up on the cot and read. When my eyes get heavy from taking in the words I nap, then sometimes I will wake and continue to read some more and sometimes drift off again.

I have a tough time keeping still as a rule but but when I set myself down on this cot it's like a switch... the response is automatic. And I relax and forget for a while the challenges life brings.

30 day photo challenge - Day 1

2011-07-17T12:44:00.000-07:00

We have gardens.. far too many of them and this year its almost an addiction. My son has taken to sheilding my eyes from them as we walk past plants at the stores, holding my elbow as he quides me past. "Mom, we have enough plants, don't look at them, you have no room for anymore".

And he is right.

This is an African Daisy. I have always loved the daisy type flowers because of the simplicity of them but I am fond of this particular flower due to the variety of colours and unusual blends of colours on some of them. And some have a variation of the pettle shape that is unusual.

For more images click the link below

http://www.google.ca/search?hl=en&q=african+daisy&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&biw=1424&bih=600

My 30 Day Photo Challenge

2011-07-16T23:42:00.000-07:00

Later today.. when I get up after a long day and a very late night I will post a photo.
It is my 30 day challenge.
For me.
Cause I want to.

Each day will be a photo I took on that day and will include a description.
So off to bed I go for now.
Stay tuned to this station.

P.S. The photos posted may NOT be used or reproduced without my written permission.

Not that I expect them to be good enough that anyone would WANT to. But you never know.

The Decision... continued

2011-06-23T18:18:00.000-07:00

Ted pushed himself up from the porch swing and moved swiftly into the house. Chris sat silently letting the swing finish its reaction to his sudden movement. She swung slowly back and forth, back and forth in shorter arcs until the swing came to a stop. Tears welled in her eyes and she knew she saw some in Teds before he quickly bolted for the solitude of the house. It was a lot for him to digest and she began to wonder if telling him was a mistake. Her resolve to keep her secret wore down as she grew more fatigued.

She was scared and she never felt more alone. He had thought she was just getting lazy and they had fought many times about what she hadn't been getting done .Each day he would come home to a house with laundry not done and dishes in the sink. He would huff his displeasure as he slam things around in the kitchen while he cleaned up and put things away.

Earlier that night as she lay in bed she heard him and knew he'd be upset with her when she finally showed herself or he came down after his shower.

She drifted off when things grew silent and was abruptly woken by the door being flung open.

"Jeez Chris, what the hell is it you do all day? I work my ass off at work then come home to the mess here to take care of. And tonight you haven't even started dinner. I guess watching those damned soaps must drain the life out of you and keeping the house tidy is just too much for you now???"

Previous to tonight shed always managed to hold her own, make excuses of some sort that he'd buy and it would be done. But tonight he had had enough and yelled.

Dammit Chris, you've barely lifted a finger around here the last 3 months. And I am fucking tired of doing both our jobs. You have always kept a clean house.... always had dinner ready or on the go when I came in the door. Don't get me wrong I never took that for granted I always appreciated it but lately.. it's like I'm living with another woman. Heck you don't even look yourself. You won't talk to me, you're sullen, short of temper sometimes and that's not you. I don't know what to do. Are you unhappy? Do you want out?? Christ Chris. I love you, you must know that. I have been patient and tried to understand but you are doing dick all around here and not talking to me about anything. Come on.. something's up. Just tell me."

His rage had resigned itself now to worry and seeing the look on his face made Chris cry.

It was not a gradual thing. Ít welled up in her throat and forced its way out so hard she almost choked on it.

A sound alien to Ted came from his wife, he stood dumfounded and speechless not knowing what to say. He moved in and grabbed her in a big hug. Just in the nick of time too because her knees buckled and he had to hold her up. It was like the force of her sobbing stole the last bit of strength she had in her body. He slowly brought them both down to the floor and just held her. It was a long time before the crying stopped.

When she was breathing normally he gently cradled her chin in his large hand and lifted her face towards him.

He looked into her swollen eyes and stared for a long time. Searching for the woman he fell in love with. She saw the concern and love he had for her and mustered up a weak smile to ease his mind.

'Splain Lucy"' he mimicked in his best Ricki Recardo imitation.

She moved to get up and he helped her, now so aware of how weak she was. She took his hand and led him out to the porch.

Not sure what to say or how to say it, she led him to the swing and sat down.

They sat and watched the sun as it slipped slowly down the sky.

The sky burst into brilliant oranges and deep purples and she did, as she had every night since her diagnosis, marvelled at the beauty of it. And as she had also done every night since then, she lamented the fact that she had taken it and so many simple things for granted. She should have lived her life differently. And she would NOW live it the way she should have.

"Ted, I'm so sorry. You deserve better than you have gotten from me these last months, her voice caught in her throat and she swallowed hard working to formulate the words. There was no easy way to say this.

"I should have told you sooner.." and she stopped again. Breathing deep and trying to calm herself. She sat quietly... practicing the words in her head.

She looked at his face and before she could change her minded said the three words he would NOT want to hear

"I have Cancer."

He sat in stunned silence. She waited for him to say something. His hands balled into fists and and he got up and went into the house.

She sat on the swing, her mind swimming and second guessing her decision to tell him and through tear filled eyes she watched as one by one the stars sparkled to life in the darkening night sky.

Sleepless in Huntsville

2011-05-17T03:19:00.000-07:00

The last couple years have seen me sleepless. More nights than I care to count I have tossed and turned growing increasingly more frustrated as sleep eludes me. The pharmacist gave me melatonin, the active ingredient in turkey that makes most people drowsy after Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner.

It works... sometimes.... but often enough I will find myself popping a Benadryl in desperation. It works quite nicely but as with any drug not prescribed it should not become a habit.

In January I joined the gym. For two reasons. I was a member of the gym for many years, it is where I met my significant other. Roger. I recall that I slept well those years without any sort of medicinal aid. I needed to lose weight and tone up so I thought "why not?"

Well that didn't work so well for the sleep part but I was toning up and feeling stronger.

Well, now, I am in a walking cast for reasons I won't go into now because I am quickly steering in a direction other than the reason I sat down to write. I have been up since before 5 this morning. Just like yesterday morning. Yesterday I drove into work for 7 ( heading off track again)

I was sitting in bed watching a recorded episode of 'House'. I had just gotten in from the final screening this season with Reel Alternatives. It was after 10. The cats trotted in and jumped on the bed as they often do when Roger is not around. He doesn't like them in the bedroom. And they know it. When they hear his foot land on the top stair to come down to bed they are out like a shot. Silent and crouching low to the ground.

Laying there last night, watching 'House' I looked at them sleeping curled up at the bottom of the bed and felt a calmness. And I remembered always having my cats on my bed at night while I slept when I was younger. So I decided that while Roger is away. (struggling in Lake Erie to get a boat back home, weather and fuel lines conspire against them) I'd let the cats sleep with me.

I turned off the light sighing to myself and thinking "hmmmm... this is nice" Less than an hour later I was woken by the movement of one of them crossing over my feet. Sometime later one of them was laying on my feet. the foot in the cast sensitive to the weight. At one point Bandit thought it would be a good idea to climb onto my chest with her tiny little feet poking at me like broom handles. It hurt. I lay there grimacing, anticipating shed settle down and curl up there and sleep. Nope, she walked round and round till I growled at her and she got the hint and moved off the bed. Later I was woken again to the rustle of one of them on my night table. Smokey was pushing at things, and in short order I heard plastic clunk of the 'TV remote hitting the ground followed by the similar sound of the PVR remote as well. More rustling and I knew he intended to create a spot big enough to lay down in. He is a big cat and I had a lot of things on that table. I whined his name and leaned over and gave him a gentle shove of the table. These events were mixed with several nose to nose pokes and vigorous play.

What was I thinking?? So much for that idea. Then I remembered. I started confining these two from my room when I lived in my apartment. For the exact reasons I stated above. How soon we forget.

It's now after 6 and I will be on the road to work within the hour. Time to dress and change to my day time walking cast. Roger won't be home tonight as originally planned. The bedroom door will be closed tonight and the cats can sleep anywhere but in here. Will try warm milk tonight.

Makes me wonder.....

2011-03-11T11:52:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, things happen in a persons life that makes them stop dead and think. "WTF?"
I know I am not the only person out there who encounters this kind of thing. But here I am, blindsided and reeling. If my life was a cartoon I would be wobbling, my eyes bulging and rolling around, and I'd have stars flashing and birds tweeting in circles above my head.
In a cartoon its funny,
in real life.. not so much.
It brings to mind a song. Written by Albert King "Born Under a Bad Sign"

Great song.. always loved it.
I can relate. Now, I know my life is not as bad as so many other out there.
Far from it. But Jeez... does it have to have these constant trials and tribulations, problems and issues, changes and pain?
I am grateful for what I have. I really am, But I could use a break from the crap.
Maybe I should have been a Blues Musician. It would be a great creative outlet for this stuff thats socially more acceptable instead of whining about it. When I complain about the trials in my life people avoid me. BUT if I wrote songs and sang about them and made money off it, I'd never lack for friends.

Time for a career change maybe.

The Decision

2011-01-14T12:34:00.000-08:00

She sat queitly thinking over what the doctor had said to her earlier that day.
That word that everyone hopes they never have to hear fell heavily on her ears and sunk into her gut. As he spoke to her she stared at his mouth, watching how his lips formed the words. He had been speaking for a long time.. saying words that she was no longer hearing because a buzz had settled in her head. She turned her gaze to the window and watched the traffic passing on the road below. A tiny blue car made its way to the corner and stopped at the light. A fog closed in and she could faintly hear a voice.
"Chris.. Chris are you with me?"
She felt a touch on her arm that jolted her back from the cloud she had retreated into. She blinked and looked back to her doctor.
"I need you to pay attention to me." he stated flatly. "This is important. Take these brochures home and go over them with Ted then decide what it is you want to do. There are options"
She nodded, not looking up.
"Do you want me to give you some time to absorb this before you leave" he asked.
Looking at her, he decided for her "Listen. Take your time. Compose yourself. You can leave when you are ready" He gave her a long look then got up and said "I will call you tomorrow to see if you have any questions" He closed the door quietly behind him.
"Thank you" she mumbled after he'd left. She sat and watched the tears fall onto the brochures that she was folding over in her hands.

She did not remember the drive home or how long she had been sitting in the bedroom. She had read the brochures and tucked them safely away in her purse. She just did not know what she was going to say to Ted, or her children. After years of being able to speak her mind and discuss her problems she now found herself without words. She had no idea what or how to tell them. She looked out the window and noted that the sun had gone down. She could hear her son moving around in his room, talking online with one of his friends while he played his game. At times she had found this irritating as he could get quite loud but this time she listened intently, enjoying the sound of his voice and remembering him as a baby. Remembering how he smelled as an infant, and reliving the feeling of him cradled in her arms. She closed her eyes and held the memory hard.
"What do I tell him?" she asked herself.
She gathered herself and left the room and wandered to the kitchen where Ted had started dinner. He looked up from the counter where he was preparing carrots to roast when she entered the room.
"Hey Hun" he said smiling and moved in to give her a hug. She took his hug and held on tight, tears welling up in her eyes. After a couple minutes he pushed her away only far enough to look at her face. She could see the concern and she swallowed hard and blurted out.
"Damn menopause has me feeling moody. I don't know if I can handle possibly 15 more years of this" she moaned, hoping he'd fall for her deflection.
He wiped the tears from her cheeks and held her some more. Only when she let go did he move to continue with the carrots.
"I love you" he said and gave her a kiss on the forhead as she backed away. She almost choked on the lump in her throat when she returned an "I love you back"
She watched him go back to the meal prep and was so grateful for him. He has always been so patient with her. So loving and considerate. Loving her even when she dished out her worst to him when life was being hard on her. He took it with understanding. Knowing it was not him that the anger was about.
"Not this time" she said to herself. "Not this time" She would not take this out on him. He had always deserved better from her.
This was one battle she'd fight on her own. One battle no one needed to know about except her. At least not yet. Her sons, one grown and moved out, her daughter and Ted need not be involved. If, and only if the day came where she was told that there was no hope.... Then, and only then would she tell them.
She was determined that day would not come.
She went to the drawer and picked out the cutlery and proceeded to set the table. She glanced at Ted on her way past and he gave her a warm grin. She smiled back. She called to her son who came in and got the plates to place around the table. After the table was set she thanked him and he gave her one of his best bear hugs.
"I love you" she told her son.
And as they had since he began to talk he responded with a smile "I love you too"
"I love you three" she countered back.
I love you forever" he replied and gave her another hug. She watched him as he returned to his room. "Dinner in 15" she called out.
"Ok" he answered and the door clicked shut behind him.
Her determination had carried her through a great deal.
It would this time too, she thought.

Winter

2010-11-13T08:28:00.000-08:00

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.

#frudayflash - Little Miss Muffet

2010-08-12T15:09:00.000-07:00

Little miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet

Eating her curds and whey

Along came a spider

Who sat down beside her

And….

Said…

“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”.

#fridayflash - Desperate Times....

2010-08-05T17:17:00.000-07:00

"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.

#fridayflash- A Special Anniversary

2010-07-15T18:40:00.000-07:00

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 Samuels 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 Samuels 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.. .…..here 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.

Musings and complaints mixed with a bit of whining

2010-06-13T06:37:00.000-07:00

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.

Tough stuff

2010-05-31T03:54:00.000-07:00

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

#fridayflash - Erica

2010-05-13T17:55:00.000-07:00

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.

#fridayflash - Angela

2010-05-07T20:37:00.000-07:00

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.
CLARENCE ROBERTS
“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.

#fridayflash - Lilac

2010-04-29T15:44:00.000-07:00

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.

#fridayflash - To Realize a Dream

2010-04-22T17:46:00.000-07:00

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.

CASTING CALL

It read.

LOOKING FOR NEW FACES FOR THE REMAKE OF A CLASSIC FILM

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.

#fridayflash - The Letter

2010-04-15T17:24:00.000-07:00

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.

Lazy.

Fat.

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.

Tears.

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.

Some releif

2010-04-13T19:06:00.000-07:00

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.

Easter Weekend

2010-04-04T14:14:00.000-07:00

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.

Game Night

2010-04-01T22:21:00.000-07:00

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."

Jeez!!!!!

2010-03-31T15:04:00.000-07:00

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.

I never thought the day would come....

2010-03-26T17:11:00.000-07:00

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.
Really.
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.
or...
Maybe not.
We shall see.

Nice nite

2010-03-24T20:04:00.000-07:00

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.

How friendships change over the years..

2010-03-21T12:27:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-03-21T09:35:00.001-07:00

So I am kicking my butt outside.

It gorgeous outside and I'm in here..

2010-03-13T09:01:00.000-08:00

WTF.

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.

Happy Birthday to Me

2010-03-04T18:32:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-03-03T12:32:00.000-08:00

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.

Venting......

2010-02-25T19:00:00.000-08:00

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.

What comes now?

2010-02-23T08:42:00.000-08:00

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?

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

2010-02-15T05:12:00.000-08:00

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.

P.S.

2010-02-13T07:41:00.001-08:00

My feet are cold.
.............
Just saying.

Feeling Better today

2010-02-13T07:33:00.000-08:00

Well, my mouth doesn't hurt as much as my dentist warned me it might.
Yay!!!!
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.

The Dentist

2010-02-12T15:25:00.000-08:00

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.

Crap!

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.
Nice.......

Cat conversations...

2010-02-03T15:40:00.000-08:00

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
"Meow"
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.

The ghost of this Past Christmas

2010-01-31T17:22:00.000-08:00

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.

Chinese food....

2010-01-30T18:19:00.001-08:00

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

Somebody Kill me....NOW

2010-01-29T04:31:00.000-08:00

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.

I'm sick.....

2010-01-28T18:02:00.000-08:00

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.

Driveway from hell.....

2010-01-27T17:40:00.000-08:00

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.
But…
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.

Saturday Morning....

2010-01-23T10:14:00.000-08:00

I slept in today.
For me 8:30 is an accomplished sleep in time becuase anything beyond 6:30 is rare. I was awake until 2 a.m..
So why is it that in older age, when we tire far more easily, and NEED more rest, it eludes us?

2010-01-22T18:13:00.000-08:00

Smokey can talk.
Yep. You read that right. He can talk.
He says "NOW"
Clear as a bell. "Now!!"
And thats when he wants everything. "Now!"
From the moment you first greet him in the morning, till he sees you off to bed.
He wants his food "Now"
He wants to be patted "Now!"
He wants you to play with him "Now." And he will repeat if over and over again until you give him what he wants, just like he is behind me at this moment. "Now, now now now now."

I have the Bathtub Blues

2010-01-22T17:16:00.000-08:00

I miss the days when I could climb into a tub full of hot water and soak, fully submerged, with nothing but my head above the surface of the water.
Recently, I started taking baths again.
Why?
Because the shower curtains in the front bathroom can't keep their slimy cold selves off of me when I have my shower. I frantically fight with them as they reach out and stick to my body from both sides. There is no pleasure or relaxation in that. I always ended up feeling stressed and pissed right off so I returned to the welcoming white porcelain arms of a childhood friend….. a bathtub in the back bathroom.
I have been bathing in there all winter. But only this morning, for some reason, I noticed that I cannot fully submerge myself at all. I can get my shoulders down but then my knees have to bend. My feet are under water but there is this line that runs about midline on my body and everything above that is exposed to the cold air.
When did this happen? When did they shrink the tubs so drastically?
I want an old fashion claw foot bath tub. One I can fill high and disappear into.

Not my bathtub... wish it was.

The big bad wolf... I don't think so

2010-01-21T16:33:00.000-08:00

On my way home this evening I was lucky enough to see a LIVE wolf on the side of the highway.
I have only seen them at night in the past, and even so it's been a few years.
This one was coloured very much like the one on the right in the photo above. He was on the right side of the road on the forest side of the snow bank hoping for an opportunity to cross. His neck was stretched long as he looked up over the bank and watched the cars speed past. Eyes darting from my car to the one beside me and then the one behind. The roads were busy in both directions. I watched him as long as I could in my rear view mirror and never saw him make any attempt to move out into the highway. I hope he changed his mind and turned back into the woods, or if he continued on in the direction he was facing, I hope he made it safely.

Is this 'my thing' or not?

2010-01-13T16:51:00.000-08:00

I used to love to write.
When I was younger I thought I wanted to be a writer but art caught my interest and I steered down another path.
Now. I try. Lord knows I try to write stuff that might intrest other people but quite frankly, my life is pretty dull. And the parts of my life that effectivly take up my time are not worth writting about. And some of what I have written about was probably better left unwritten.
You see, I figure anyone who can write... can really write well.... can make even the most mundane tale an interesting read. A good writer can, just with the use of words cause emotions to well up within the reader. Cause them to laugh, cry, feel anger, frustration etc. just by skillfully and effectively stringing words together on a page.
I admire and congratulate all you true writers out there.
Bravo. The world would be a dull place without you.

Playing Chicken with a spider... in the bathtub

2010-01-10T15:27:00.000-08:00

I am not a fan of spiders.
Truth be told, they scare the bejezzus out of me.
8 legs.
Who needs 8 legs anyhow?
Two is sufficient for part of the world’s creatures. I suspect the large majority of our earthly creatures have 4. And insects, who I am guessing make up the largest part of this pie chart have 6.
Horses walking on two legs would look odd and so would insects, so I can accept their unusual amount of appendages nessesary for motion. But spiders.... 8 legs are overkill if you ask me. And it is very possibly the extra two legs that freak me out the most. I don’t know why. There is no sense in being afraid of something that has 8 legs. I just am. That extra set of legs takes them from being potentially cute to just downright creepy.
And that’s my introduction to this blog.

A couple mornings ago I ran a bath and lay back to soak and enjoy. I needed to clean up but soaking is a large part of the experience. It’s a time to relax and also get rid of the chill in my bones which is ever present this time of year.
So, the bath was run and at just the right temperature… and I settled down and lay back in the gloriously hot water. I submerged my head to the point that my face was the only thing NOT under water and let my eyes look up to white expanse of the ceiling. The ceiling in this bathroom is so clean and clutter free. It’s nice to look at. My eyes follow the line of the crown molding around the room and then rest directly above me. I see a speck above my head and in an instant I can see it’s a spider.
So much for the leisurely soak.
I quickly set about washing my hair and body keeping an eye, as best I could , on this spider. The condensation accumulating on the ceiling is making it difficult for him to stay adhered to the drywall and I see him fall away. I attempt to leap out of the tub but since I am wet and slippery with soap it is not easy thing to do and I lose my grasp on the edge of the tub. Thankfully his super spider power.. meaning, his web stuff… remains attached to the ceiling and he only falls a few inches. He pulls himself up this invisible line to the ceiling again and attempts to find a less precarious location to sit and torment me from.
Only a short distance from his location he falls again.
Again, thank goodness the web material takes hold and he falls a short distance and climbs back up again.
I rush through the cleaning of my person and jump out of the tub still keeping a watchful eye on this creature from my nightmares.
I dry off in the hall. And go get my camera. Just so you can see how terrifying he is.

Lynda 0 – Spider 1.
He won that game of chicken. But his victory will be short lived. If I ever see his 8 legged body again… and Roger is home….

Be afraid little spider…. Be VERY afraid.

Trials and Tribulations.....

2010-01-06T17:19:00.000-08:00

I have to apologize to my adoring fans for not having written lately. OK…. there is only ONE of you who follows my blog and I don’t know that I can say that you ADORE me….. please allow me my imaginings.

Anyway… I have not written because I have had nothing to write about.

Today changed that.

It all started last night when I took some bedding out of the dryer and headed up to make Liam’s bed. By the time I hit the top of the stairs my heart was pounding. It felt like it was going to bust its way out of my chest. As I leaned over to tuck the corner under on the top of his mattress I felt light headed and short of breath. I guess it was obvious to Liam because he asked if I was OK and I told him I was short of breath so he offered to finish making his bed.

I thanked him and headed downstairs my heart still pounding. Hard and fast. I lay down on my bed and tried to relax. Frankly I was scared to death but after about half an hour the heavy fast beating slowed and was more normal. I sat up in bed and watch an episode of Mad Men on my laptop.

Further trips up stairs resulted in the quick hard beat. Scared again but trying not to panic I climbed into bed to stay at 9:30 and turned out the light. I did not hurt. There was no numbness or tingling in my left arm or jaw.

I fell asleep quickly.

………………………

Fast forward to work.

At close to 10, I experienced the same symptoms. So I called my doctor and he told me to come in for 3.
Fast forward again because everything in between then and 2:15 is nothing to write about.
Once I got in to see my doctor he asked me some questions, checked my heart rate then gave me some forms to take to the lab and a number to call to schedule a 24 hour heart monitor.

Here’s where the trials and tribulations begin.

Backtrack a wee bit..

When I entered the doctor’s office they requested my OHIP card. I couldn’t find it but, no big deal. I was still able to see my doctor but was told to call OHIP because it’s time to get a new card.

Now let’s fast forward back to the lab.

My doctor requested and ECG and some blood work to check my iron and thyroid levels. He told me that low thyroid could cause the symptoms I experienced or even menopause.
The lab took my requisition then told me to take a number. In the past the lack of my OHIP card was not an issue. This time it was. I tore my purse apart to try and find the card. They would not take my blood or perform the ECG without my card, but told me I could pay cash up front and get reimbursed later. So, again, I dig into my purse to find my debit card. Nope, I was sure I saw it earlier. I looked again. No debit card. Now guess who is hormonal and starts to cry in frustration. Embarrassed, I apologize and turn away to call the Hospital to book the heart monitor. To be on the safe side I ask if they needed my OHIP card before they hook me up and I was grateful to find that they didn’t. They just need the number. I book the hook up for Friday at 3. At this point the girl in the lab tells me I can likely renew my OHIP card in Bracebridge tomorrow and then with paper in hand head directly to the lab there downtown in the old armory building. I thanked her then moved out into the lobby to insert my parking pass into the machine that will tell me how much I have to pay to get out of the parking lot. AGAIN, I dig into my purse and fortunately find the ticket and insert it.

$4. Is due so I dig in to find change. Nope not enough change. I possess a Loonie and a quarter. “Crap” Oh, but HERE is my debit card. And the lab is now closed. “ Crap” The machine won’t take Debit. It wants a credit card. I knew I did not have enough on the credit card to pay the lab but maybe there is 4 bucks on it. I swipe and YAY!!! It marks my ticket in whatever magical way it does so the gate will let me pass into the outside world.
Everything gets packed back into my purse, yet again, and I venture outside. Across the parking lot I see the last flicker of my headlights and break into a run, at least to the best of my ability. Fearing a potential heart attack and lack of strength in my muscles gives me a quick, clumsy walk at best. And honestly the chances of me getting there fast enough to prevent the inevitable is pretty slim.

Like I said it was the last flicker of my headlights.
I clamber in, putting the bottomless pit that I call a purse on the passenger seat beside me and plunge the key into the ignition.

Click – click – click – click. Grind. Over and over again. And here are the tears again.

I try again, 4 more times just in case by some miracle it starts after all. I hold my breath the first time. ‘Cause you just never know… that might help.
The next time I bite my lip. Maybeee maaaaybeee.. nope. “CRAP!!!”
Now about I scrunch up my face like I just smelled something bad. AND hold my breath at the same time. “CRAP CRAP CRAP!!!!”
Then I just cry and hope the ‘Almighty’ will take some pity on this pathetic human who just wants to go home at this point and curl up into the fetal position and feel sorry for herself.
NOPE…..”CRAP!! and a few other nastier words escape my lips.

I pull out my phone. It’s at least not fallen into the great void that is my purse, and I call Roger who thankfully is awake.
I sob out my situation and ask for help. He tells me to call CAA cause it will be at least an hour before he can get to where I am. And CAA is sure to be to me in far less time. I hang up on him as the words fall out of his mouth.

More sobbing.

I take some time to calm down and descend into my purse one more time. Looking for my CAA card. I find it and call. She asks the address of where I am. I don’t know the address. I try my best to give her my location. She tells me it will be about 2 hours before anyone can get to me.
And offers to give me a reference number if I need to call back.
Pen.
I don’t have one that I know of and so help me, if I have to dig into that devil purse again I will lose my mind.
I spot it on the floor.. in the slush.. a bit of a broke pencil which must have originally come from my sons nap sack. I pick it up and chew off some of the wood to expose the lead. I look at the ticket to freedom thinking I will write it on there but am afraid of voiding it in some way.
To the rescue is the little hideaway campartment in my arm rest where I keep all sort of other crap, including odd bits of paper and change. I open it and on the top is an empty envelope that once contained a bill. I write down the number and thank her at which point she asks if there is anything else she can do for me. What? Seriously? That’s a long list right about now and I don’t think she can deliver a dose of sanity over the phone to me.
“No thank you” I mumble as pleasantly as I can muster and I wish her a nice day and hang up.
More sobbing…some all out bawling. Then I call Roger back and between fits of crying and those little annoying hiccupy things you get when you cry hard, I let him know It could be 2 hours before CAA arrived.
At some point he, in the painfully drawn out conversation, says “surely someone at work can give you a boost.” at which point I tell him I am in Huntsville.
“Oh” he says “I assumed you were at work. Where are you?” I tell him where I am. He asks if I have booster cables. And I tell him I did but they are in the shed in my emergency kit because we had to empty my trunk to get the flooring. A lot of good that kit does me there, I think, and then I think that it’s a good thing He didn’t say to me what I just thought. I suggested he look in the shed. He says it’s a mess and he’d never see them. I than ask him about the ones in his old car which is still parked in the garage, and he says he emptied the truck and they might be in the shed.
It’s turning into a big bad circle of CRAP.
I tell him I am putting down the phone and I proceed to empty my trunk into the parking lot.

Washer fluid
brake fluid
5 bottles of gas line antifreeze
two blue micro suede cushions
two fold up camp chairs, one green, one black.
bottles of water, frozen
a small Dust Buster car vac
a foot operated air pump.
And a shitake mushroom log in a black garbage bag, but NO booster cables.
I put it all back in my trunk and pick up the phone.
I hear Roger breathing heavy as he is doing whatever it is he is doing on the other end. He finally picks up and says.”I have found some. It turns out I didn’t empty my trunk after all. I will be right over.” And about 15 minutes later he shows up.

After figuring out what side the batteries are on in each of the cars he hooks me up and in minutes I am running. He leaves and I follow close behind. It hasn’t been 15 minutes for him so he gets to pass without paying. I insert the ticket and the machine feels compeled to inform me I now owe an additional dollar. Yay. I have one of those in my secret compartment under my arm rest. I fish it out thinking.” This is OK. Something is working” The I realize there is no coin slot.

Say it with me now….”CRAP!!!”

I now DUMP the purse on the seat and search with reckless abandon through the pile of ‘stuff’. Carelessly shoving things aside as I hunt for the damned credit card. Some items falling on to the floor into the slush. I don’t care. I spot the card and shove it into the slot. A message flashes on the screen. ‘Waiting for Approval’ and I panic. “What if it isn’t approved? What do I do then? Call Roger to come back with credit car in hand? The building is now all locked up and the parking lot empty with the exception of some employees cars outside. I could back up and drive up to the hospital and draw some money out of the Debit machine, but there is now a line of cars behind me waiting their turn to insert their tickets to freedom.
after what felt like an eternity “Approved” flashed on the screen and the gate lifts and I breath a big sigh and head home.

At home I left the car running to charge the battery and I asked Roger how long it would take.
“Maybe an hour” he says.
“CRAP” I say. “I will run out of gas before that”
So bless his heart, he goes out and turns off the car and hooks me up to some charger he has.

In the morning I must remember to unplug the charger so I don’t drag it down the highway behind me…….

And to buy gas before leaving town.

Do animals feel love???

2010-01-02T21:25:00.000-08:00

I mentioned earlier about Smokey and Tripper. They have been acquainted for almost 2 years now.
Bandit on the other hand is not so easily won over by Trippers charms. Just as it took her some time to warm up to Loki, my daughters Russian Blue tom cat I expected it would take time for her to finally accept Tripper and be willing to lay a foot or two from each other on the floor as Tripper and Smokey do. Bandit acts her usual self by wandering into the living room to be with the rest of us and even climbed up into Georgina’s lap to sit while we watched a movie. On occasion when Tripper would come closer than she was comfortable with at that moment she'd give a low growl or hiss at him and he’d back off. Smokey had moved to a chair in the dining room and was asleep there.
Suddenly all hell broke loose and Bandit hissed and hit Tripper then was up and over the chair and around the room with Tripper close behind. He had her cornered near the fireplace tail wagging. Georgina pulled Tripper back because Bandit was obviously upset at which point Smokey came slowly and stiffly across the floor puffed up as big as he could and approached Tripper. A growl rose in his throat followed by a hiss and a volley of strikes to Trippers face that left the poor dog reeling. It was a good thing the cat had no front claws or blood would have been drawn. Bandit had run through the door into the hallway between the boy’s rooms and I picked up Smokey and could feel the tension in his body. I put him down in the hall and he went and sniffed at Bandit and the two of them went into Liam’s room.
Absolute silence engulfed the room for a minute then Georgina spoke.
“Wow I have never seen anything like that. He must really love her to stand up to an animal more than ten times his size like that.”
Smokey went in and was ready to take on the animal that he has lain with… has greeted nose to nose when John and G arrive for the weekend for the last year and a half, because Tripper had spooked Bandit and in Smokey’s eyes was probably attacking her.
Rogers’s sister Carol was equally impressed.
I had seen him do this before when Bandit was not yet comfortable with Loki.
So, does he feel love for the little female cat that was brought into his life 4 years ago or is it just instinctual? Protecting, what is in a cats mind, the female of his pride?
As humans discussing the event afterwards, we were inclined to transfer human emotions and motives to this display.
An hour later all was as it was before. Tripper lay on the floor and the cats walked past him as if nothing had happened.
I have to say... it was the most exciting part of the evening.

Interesting... very interesting. Not really

2010-01-02T14:07:00.000-08:00

That's the dogs bed Smokey is on. Tripper's OK with that.

We have had house guests since New Year’s Eve Day.
I am not complaining.
They are my boyfriend’s brother and his common-law wife. She is an only child and calls me her sister. We are similar is size, shape, and temperament and sometimes it is uncanny how the words come out at the exact same time and the exact same words with the exact same inflection. It is like me being with me and Roger with Roger…. except Roger and his brother don’t look so much alike. John is as tall but heavier set and has dark hair and a moustache.
We spend a great deal of our time together watching TV, eating, talking or shopping. We talk about them retiring up here and getting a family compound.
It’s like being with ourselves.
But... in all the ways Georgina and I are the same and Roger and John are the same. Where John and G differ on what they like and enjoy John and I are the same. Likewise for Roger and G. When we are out John and I will gravitate towards the same things. And vice versa for Roger and Georgina. Roger and Georgina are minimalists. John and I like ‘stuff”. Roger and Georgina are not so social. John and I like socializing.
Strange but a comfortable fit.
They have a dog named Tripper who is very good with my cats. Smokey loves Tripper and they are never far apart when John and G come to visit.
Not an exciting blog… just observations and thoughts.

2009-12-30T17:44:00.000-08:00

The Olympic Torch makes its way through Huntsville.

December 30, 2009

Felt I should... just becuase...

2009-12-29T18:58:00.000-08:00

I havn't blogged in days.
Not since before Christmas.
Not much to say.
Still real, real tired.
I shoveled snow today, but then that's not a NEW thing.
I still hate it and THATS not a new thing either.
It's pretty stuff. I will give it that.
Time for bed.

Oh Look... there's a chicken in the living room... and butter tarts in the kitchen....but not for long.

2009-12-20T06:20:00.001-08:00

I just ate a Butter tart for breakfast and stashed the last two in the cupboard and came down to blog or started to. I decided I’d go up and grab a cup of tea first when Roger asked.
"Where are the butter tarts? I went to get one and couldn’t find them. I looked all over for them, they're not in the fridge or any where I looked."
"Here they are." I exclamied with feigned good humor, all the while thinking “ Nuts, I won’t get to have anymore because I was secretly hoping he had forgotten about them and I could have the rest.
I am a butter tart freak. There, my secret is out. I LOVE butter tarts. But not just any butter tarts, home made with a real crust and crumbly like the ones Dave Made and bought over last night.
Roger loves them too but he will eat any old crud butter tart out of the store.
What is WRONG with him?
Why can’t he leave the truly GOOD, melt in your mouth, sugary sweet bowls of heaven for those of us who TRULY appreciate them??
I made like I was HAPPY to share the last few with him. It’s what you do when you love someone.
Had he never asked, I would have happily gobbled the last two by lunch time without volunteering that fact that they were there. But he did. And I just cannot lie.
I am a bad girl.

Now I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of our household.

I haven’t named him yet.
But he can dance. Boy can he dance. And he is a chicken
I managed to get one still shot of him but as you can see from the other picture, he moves and he moves fast I lay down on the floor and turned him on but by the time I get focused on him he is right in my face. He looks happy doesn’t he? Dancing for all his little chicken heart is worth.
Flapping his wings, and moving those little chicken feet.

I feel compelled to go see if by any chance there IS one more butter tart left. Wish me luck.

Hmmmm... seems I didn't afterall

2009-12-19T22:23:00.000-08:00

I was sure I'd written a post today.... then not so sure.
Turns out I hadn't. So. Here it is. Short and well just short. Shopped, got a foot detox bath thingy. cooked. not so well but it was palatable. Got a dancing christmas chicken from Cathy and Dave... who were here for dinner and cards BTW. Love the chicken. He dances around the floor, beek moving, eyes rolling and he does the chicken dance... you know the one. da da dada dada da, da da dada dada da, dadadada da da da da..oh and his cheeks flash. you can't help but laugh. We figure we can get him bunny ears and use him at Easter too. and maybe put a sheet over him and he can be a ghost chicken at Halloween. Smokey is a bit unsure and Bandit it not impressed at all. and that makes it even more fun. I will post a pic tomorrow. I wonder if this will accept video. Oh and chocolates as well.
Had fun... We always do with Kathy and Dave. They brought the boys along and the 5 (theirs and ours) of them did boy stuff which beyond playing vidoe games could mean seeing who can fart the loudest or longest. They ARE boys. I have a full day tomorrow. I better try to sleep.

Christmas Shopping and my kids

2009-12-18T18:17:00.000-08:00

I was in the stores tonight.. trying to get the last of my Christmas shoppiong done. I see that as it stands I was not too far from done when I went out this evening. So it was a lot of walking around looking at stuff that might be cool to add to the pile I have already bought for my kids. I am going all out this year for them. More so than I have in past years. But not crazy overboard. Ok with the youngest... Yah I did kinda. It will be the last crazy Christmas for him. I suspect I am compensating for what has been a tough year for him. But he is a trooper and gets past these trails with greater ease then in years past.
He's a good kid.
All my kids are good. I feel very fortunate.

The Drive

2009-12-16T16:36:00.000-08:00

This was not taken today, but this is part of my drive to work every day.

When I first found out that I was going to have to commute to Bracebridge every day I was upset. As I have said before I lived close to the location in Huntsville. Close enough that it was a 10 minute stroll. Tops.

A couple weeks ago I officially began the commute, anxious and pissed off at the same time. I drove that first day hating every kilometer of the drive in to work and every inch of it on the way home.
I did not feel a whole lot better about it the next day. Then winter hit. Talk about taking something I hate already and making it so I hate it more.
Well done Mother Nature.
Driving in winter weather...... you read how I feel about that on the previous post.
Today the roads were clear in both directions and I actually enjoyed it somewhat. It wasn't so bad after all.
It only took a dose of the worst winter weather this area has seen in a while to put things in perspective.
That's how I feel about it today.
I might feel differently tomorrow.
I can be fickle.
Or so I have been told.

P.S. I thought on the way home that my blogs were a tad long. If someone wanted to read a novel they'd go to the Library.

So here’s to a short blog.

At home... in bed.. lap top, well, in my lap sillys!

2009-12-14T08:04:00.000-08:00

Winter hit, and it hit hard not too long after my job moved south and I had to start driving 40 minutes to work. This is nothing by some peoples standards but it has been a tough pill for me to swallow. Why? Because even though I do enjoy driving (as a rule) I hate driving in winter conditions. Winter is fine if the sun is out and the roads are clean. But cover them with snow and have a bunch of it blow around so I cannot see and mix that with some (insert bad words here) who think the roads are as safe as they are in the heat of summer, and I get physically ill on the drive. I fight to keep the contents of my stomach down. My heart races, my palms sweat. Sometimes, most recently this last Thursday on the drive home, I felt tears well up in my eyes. So by the time I get to work, I am already drained of all physical and creative energy. I am sure I will get used to it. Age makes that process much slower. But I am sure in time I will. Both the new drive and the winter conditions at the same time have been overwhelming. Combined with menopause... look out. Roger must really really love me.
Friday was an official snow day. Once I had decided I was not up to the drive and had left a message for my boss I found out the offices here and in Bracebridge were both closed.
Yay!
Then reality hit. There was a ton of snow that had to be removed from the drive. Mountains of the fluffy, and as it turned out, heavy stuff, that went on forever.
I hate this driveway. It is on a steep (seems to me) incline and twists and turns to the parking space by the house. It is the slope that scares me during winter. The rest of the year I can hear it as my car switches gears to make the incline. She is groaning and saying "ohhh this hurts".
I can only imagine it’s worse for her when her wheels start to slip on the wet snow or the ice beneath. It’s a busy street at the bottom of this drive way and I slid out into traffic once. It scared the (insert another bad word here) out of me. It has coloured every trip I take up and down this drive in the winter. I expect the worst to happen.

But the snow needs to be removed so we can get our cars in and out during the cold winter months. Roger made it out in the early morning and an ample amount of snow had fallen since then. He had cleared only the minimum it took to get his tiny car out.
So shovel in hand I braved the blowing snow to make it as safe as I could for any and all to get in and out safely.
I was shortly joined by my son who worked alongside me until 1pm when we decided to take a break, warm up and eat something. An hour after that Rogers sister arrived home and pitched in when Liam and I went back out to finish the job. Between the three of us we managed to make some headway as far as getting the snow removed from the area cleared first thing in the morning. I was soaked through and aching and I know I was not the only one. We went inside.

We went back out later to clear what fell while we were inside. Closer to Roger’s arrival time I sanded the drive to ensure he'd make it all the way up.
Saturday’s mission - To clear the snow that fell overnight and take back the banks to the best of our ability. Again. Minus Roger - the strongest one in this motley crew. He was out shoveling his father’s roof, and garage, and drive.
Taking back the banks is the hardest and heaviest work. The Snow blower has not worked yet this year, THAT being the reason why we had to do this ourselves. I was in the drive by 9:30. Roger’s sister was with me again. Both of us in our 50’s and anticipating the 'snow removal heart attack' which is common in the area under these conditions. We'd work and stop to catch our breath and allow the pounding in our chests to subside. As we made our way deeper into the banks the snow got thicker, harder and heavier and the banks got taller meaning every shovel full we tossed up resulted in at least half of it falling back down. Our shoulders by this time felt like they were made of Jello and devoid of all strength. We were growing frustrated and stopped to rest and vented further. It was during one of these ‘break and bitch fests’ that our neighbor strode up the drive... assessed our progress, shook his head and disappeared down the slope.
We were failing at our task miserably. I suspected he was ashamed for us. We started to shovel again laboring under the weight of this white curse.
Then….. through the blowing snow.... a sound... familiar. Almost forgotten.
It was getting louder. We stopped and listened, looking at each other, wondering if we were both hearing the same sound. There was something oddly comforting about it as it grew louder. We were unable to locate the direction in the now swirling wall of snow. We could barely see each other.
Then the snow parted like a curtain and our neighbor approached bathed in ethereal light, accompanied by the sound of angels singing. Snow blower and man functioning as one, removing the banks with seeming effortlessness.
Ok. There was no angels singing... no light...heck, the snow wasn't even falling at this point. But that’s what it felt like when he came up the drive.
Our knight in shining armor with his trusty steed.
Or more precisely, Tim in his grey coveralls and his Toro - Power Max Snow blower.
He glowed a bit…. and it shone.
No… Not really.
But I was ever so grateful
We worked alongside each other to finish the job. I’d chop the banks down that were especially tough and he’d blow them up and away.

It was dark as I made my way indoors. Everything hurt. I was shaking from being cold and wet for so long. I spent the night attempting to warm myself in bed drinking copious amounts of tea, and hot chocolate. I was cuddled up there wearing my flannel pajamas, socks and my house coat.

I had the fire turned up to high. Roger fed me two generous shots of rum and ibuprofen and as I watched the Polar Express I drifted off to sleep only to be woken by a wasp that stung my elbow.
That’s another story.
Yesterday I shook all day, still unable to keep warm, my joints aching.
Today my throat is sore and my nose is plugged and I am still cold. Drugs have dulled the ache in my joints and the throb in my head. Bed can be a boring place when you are all by yourself so I love the fact that I can be nestled in bed with my laptop, on my lap and can view and communicate with the world. Sometimes I can even work from here.
Final note. I love the LOOK of winter.

Is this real.. or is it just a figment of my imagination.....

2009-11-29T13:26:00.000-08:00

Yesterday... Saturday, Roger and I indulged in one of our (don't have to work day) activities.

This involves driving to Canadian Tire, treating ourselves to one of the FREE cups of coffee from the large urn just inside the door, and wandering the store mindlessly.

Often we are together, picking up and discussing things that have attracted our mutual interest. Other times we will separate, heading off in opposite directions with a specific destination in mind.

On this particular day we had finally decided to buy a wreath we had both been eyeballing for weeks, fake, but oh so realistic looking. No sparkly adornments. Just (fake) cedar boughs, and twigs, and if I am not mistaken, real pine cones. It is quite large and so beautiful. In our eyes at least. We had agreed that it would be hung in the centre window in the living room over the sofa facing inwards. So with the wreath laid gently down in the cart we headed further down the aisle and stopped to look at something else. I recall we had a discussion about something he really liked at that point and I found hideous. I exaggerate, it wasn’t hideous, I didn’t LIKE it but I said it was hideous to get his goat. (On occasion we differ in our taste) we put the item down, I looked up and then towards where he was standing. I repeat WAS standing….. maybe 2 seconds previous. He was gone and I was caught mid sentence now looking like I was talking to myself. I looked down the aisle immediately beside where he was. No Roger to be seen. I looked down the large middle isle. Again, no Roger. He had disappeared and the thought jumped into my head.

OMG, I am mad, totally bonkers. Has he been a figment of my imagination and in reality I am the crazy woman who is seen every Saturday morning in the Huntsville Canadian Tire talking out loud to no one, about the item in my hand or in front of me on the shelf.

I experience a brief moment of panic wondering if this was really the case, and as I move towards the front door wondering how I even got here, I catch a glimpse of him hiding behind a large shelving unit.

What a relief, because surely had he not become visible I would have wondered where the heck I lived and how many of the people in my life are real or imagined.

Is this all part of menopause?

And that reminds me.

I plan to start a separate blog on that subject.

That's the plan.

Let’s see if I can make that a reality.

Keep posted.

Too short....

2009-11-22T06:00:00.001-08:00

It's the last day of the weekend.
The LAST day!!!
I LOVE weekends.
I LIVE for weekends.
Why?
'Cause I get to sleep in. Its part of what I do. I stay up late only because I can. And I do that only because I can sleep in. I watch crud on TV...... surf the net, read trash to keep me up, only because I get to sleep in.
Weird huh??
Used to be, years ago, I actually stayed up because I had something exciting to do. Go out with friends to a bar or movie or a party. Those were the good parts of the weekend and the sleeping in was a necessary part of it. Now I create a full evening (boring as it is) to make it so I can enjoy the pleasure of not having to get up at a specific time.
This weekend I actually managed to sleep until 8:14... both days. My time is improving.
I do miss the old days though. But kids and finances have made those few and far... very far in between.
FYI.
I wouldn't give up my kids to be able to relive those weekends again if someone made one of those offers. I love them to bits. I Live for my kids, and as they get older I appreciate every bit of time I do get with them. I am fortunate that my oldest, Miranda lives in town and we are quite close. We spend bits of time together often.
My son Eli lives in Guelph and I am lucky to see him once a year. He doesn't call, he very seldom sends an e-mail in my direction. And it hurts but I am coming around to seeing it's the nature of the beast he is. He is a dedicated student and employee. Not very social. Likes to keep his possessions to what he can carry and relationships to a minimum. Or so he tells me. I miss the little boy I remember. 'Sober sides' is what some people referred to him as. He was quiet and shy with intense eyes. He loved hats, even more so than my youngest. He wore a different hat every day and had quite a a collection of them. He settled on two favorites as he got older. A railway engineers hat that belonged to a great grandfather who actually did work for the railway, and a baseball hat that used to belong to an undercover cop with a drug squad. This group of cops had these hats embroidered with the grim reaper on it and some words that have long worn so badly I cannot read them. This hat in particular appealed to him in his preteens when boys get into skulls and dark stuff, as he did. I still have both these hats and in searches for other things I will often find them again. I stop and feel the soft worn fabric, turn them over to find a blond hair that has clung to the lining of these hats for 13 years now. I leave it there because picking it out and tossing it in the trash would feel like throwing HIM away. That's when the tears start. As they are now. I miss him so much and hope one day to reconnect with him again. I feel so unconnected knowing nothing about where he lives, what he does, who his friends are, and if there was or IS a girl in his life. I feel that a big part of me has gone missing.
...........................................
Back to my first thoughts. I Do love weekends, really... I do stay up late, I do attempt to sleep in because and ONLY because I can. I do the other things I wanted to do but didn't have the time do do during the week. I get very selfish on some weekends. I do what I want... when I want. As I type this I am still in my pajamas. I may not even get OUT of my pajamas today.
Yah... I love weekends.

The things one wonders about when left to sit long enough......

2009-11-17T15:43:00.000-08:00

The opportunity came to get my H1N1 shot..... much to my relief.
I started into the season with panic, at one point finding myself in tears because I was unable to get it... I was not among their definition of risk groups. Than, all the talk about shortages and my doctors office saying they would not be vaccinating the general public until early December, so I became resigned to not getting it, telling myself its blown all out of proportion and I won't get vaccinated. I didn't freak out about SARS. I wandered the city and the casino without a care in the world feeling invincible. It won't touch me.
But with H1N1 the first report of a child dying, suddenly, in the car as her parents drove her to the hospital, shocked me. It got my attention. She was 9 years old and had been to emerg once and was sent home with 'the flu', being told there was nothing to be concerned about and to follow all the standard flu rules. Rest, plenty of fluids etc. etc. I forget what brought about the families return trip to the hospital but the little girl tells her father from the back seat that her heart hurts. and she dies. Just like that...... she dies. I read that and felt sick to my stomach.
Later, days or weeks later, it is a 13 year old hockey player. Young healthy, thought to be on the mend. He dies while taking a bath.
My son Liam is 13 years old. That was when the panic set in. I called my doctors office in an attempt to get him the shot. We have spent many winter nights in emerg as he gasped breath. The doctor on call often used vaporised Ephinephrine with a cool mist to open his airways. He has not had a bout of this in 4 years but I worried and wanted him to get the shot soon as possible.
I tried a family friend who is a Doctor, but his office had not received theirs yet. So I waited. And calmed down. I had decided we would not get it afterall.
Then the word came that the shots were now being offered to the general public. I raced over there after work and was in and out in under 20 minutes. No huge line up. 15 minutes of that time was waiting to see if I suffered any of the side effects. I felt instantly relaxed.
Now, to get my youngest son Liam and my daughter Miranda over there. I picked him up at his friends, because he had skipped out of Karate and I got her from work and over we went. Liam whined the whole time about how he hates needles and begged me to not make him get it pleeeaaaase.... The line was longer now so we had to sit a while. That's when my brain clicked in and I started to think about what I was doing. Side effects? I was not concerned about that so much. I am not, and my kids are not allergic to any of the ingredients. The levels of the metals present in the vaccine are lower than in the smoke we breath while walking around every day and in the foods we eat. I have no concerns there. But then the radio show Miranda told me about where this guy spoke about the vaccine being a conspiracy, the governments way of killing off a large part of the population, squeezed its way inside my head.
I looked at my son, who was still trying to get me to give up on the idea, and thought. Am I unknowingly sending my son to death??? Is there some truth in what this guy was spouting? I am drawn out of my unpleasant train of thought by Miranda telling me about a video her boyfriends friend showed her about a woman who had the original vaccine back in the 70's ??? and what it did to her. It did something unusual to her brain where now she could no longer walk normally. Her forward walk was awkward, arms flailing and clumsy. Her speech was garbled. BUT... and this is the weird part... she can walk and run BACKWARDS fluidly, and speak with no difficulty.
Weird huh???
Miranda than texts her boyfriend and says "what if I end up like the wobbly lady?" I think they now call her. And he texts back " I will run with you." Tears well up in my eyes as she tells me this. Then her name is called and off she goes.
Soon Liam's name is called and he rushes off to the station he was directed to. I am close behind. Is it my imagination or is he actually, at 13 years of age, flirting with the young nurse who is giggling, GIGGLING in response to what he says. She asks him, after going over the required check list of what to notify the patient of before they get their shot. "Do you have any questions before I give you the vaccine?' He smiles and says" can I leave before you do? She giggles again and he smiles. He pulls his arm out of his shirt, she gives him his shot and instructs us to sit down, ONLY after another nurse goes over her check list of what to watch out for.
We join my daughter again.
Liam pulls out his phone and notes the time and tells us when it will be exactly 15 minutes. Miranda talks about the ingredients in the vaccine because she noted that even though the ask you "are you allergic to any of the ingredients in the vaccine?" they do not tell you what the ingredients are. So she asks. 15 minutes can be a long time when you just want to get home after a long day, and even longer when you have a 13 year old counting it down minute by minute. I listen to them both and gaze at the people as they file in now. The line getting longer and longer. into the hallway. I watch a woman arrive with a cooler, which I assume is more vaccine and it must be because she hands it over to another woman wearing the orange safety vest like the others with this group. I look at the attractive blond taking information from new arrivals, and entering them via computer into the system. Then my brain does what it did early and I wonder again. Does that blond know she is involved in a conspiracy that is supposed to kill off a large part of our population? Is she entering our names and assorted other information into some database so they can later monitor how successful it was and somewhere a signal is set off when one of us enters the emergency room in what will prove to be a vain attempt to keep ourselves from dying from whatever was REALLY in the vaccine.
Then I think. If it was really about killing some of us off, wouldn't they ask us questions about our employment? Whether we are on welfare etc. Do we have a criminal record? Then depending on our answers, the next person who gets the info sent via cyberspace at the next station notifies the nurse with a computer at the final station of this process, what vaccine to administer. The real one, or the one to kill us off in the future.
But they don't ask that. Cause if it WAS a conspiracy. then all that would already be IN the system. Our names flagged by the government if we are to be eliminated. Don't they already pretty much know everything about us. they gather it every year in our income tax forms. When we apply for unemployment. A mortgage, a loan. As long as we owe them money we are safe. Welfare and UIC recipients, maybe not so safe.
I think I'm safe. I think my daughter is safe, and my son. He's just a kid. Not any burden to society. He has not been in any trouble with the police. And contrary to how he presents himself has been deemed as being of superior intelligence. They might see him as useful in the future so I figure he's safe and I relax again.
Whew. I am exhausted and want to go home. Liam announces that time is up and we gather our coats and head out the door. I see my Big boss and his lovely wife who I chatted with in my hairdressers at length one day before I knew who she was and think, " You are both safe too."
We head to the car and home.
Thursday my knees hurt terribly as I walked down stairs.
I wonder.
Friday they hurt worse and my brain heads off to that scary place. I search the Internet to see if its related. Maybe I WASN'T safe afterall.
Today they hurt less and I breath a BIG sigh of relief.

And so it begins....

2009-11-13T05:23:00.000-08:00

Whoever thought that the most time consuming part of starting a blog would be naming it... and picking out your domain name. I figured the other 227 titles I came up with would NOT have been taken. I was wrong. So Here it is, Much Ado About....anything and everything, 'cause when it comes down to it my life gets pretty confusing, hectic and often a lot of fuss has been made over nothing at all when I look at it afterwards. This is my intro. And now I have to make an exit to get to an appointmnet, then get my son back to school then get my ass off to work.....
Later....