We sure live in the land of milk and honey. There ain't no better place to be. Alberta. Christmas morning, we woke up to clear sky and a pink reflection on the mountains to the west.
I put the turkey in the oven around noon and we took the old girl down to the river for a walk. The pathways were clear and the temperature was warm, nearly 10 +C. She wanted to walk for miles. Not bad for a nearly 14year old shepherd cross.
At home the wonderful smell of roasting turkey filled the house and I set the table and started to prepare the vegetables.
We didn't expect anyone over until late in the afternoon for gift opening. This is the first time in our lives that we have not had a Christmas morning of gift opening. It was just the two of us, well three but she slept through it all.
Erin and Walter had both worked until late in the night on Christmas eve. Erin bartending and Walter dj'ing. Like a full time job at the university wasn't enough!!
It was the Christmas of body parts and appliance attachments. Erin gave Walter a pair of lamps which were featured in her favourite Christmas movie, A Christmas Story. Walter was somewhat flummoxed because he hadn't seen the movie, but non the less impressed with getting a pair of lamps of stylized women's legs in fish net stockings..
He returned the favour to Erin and gave her a dressmakers form. Which quickly became the bodice to the legs.
Ashley surprised me with some laundry art. She knows how I like laundry art and she gave me a plate by Ron Philbeck. He makes marvelous earthenware in his studio in NC. I just love it and can't wait to hang it up. My job for this afternoon.
Wayne and Ellen arrived and things went into full swing with paper and ribbons flying. Every year I swear that we should slow down the gift opening procedure and open one at a time. I know that it took me way more time to choose the gift, the card, find the wrapping paper, cut it to size, round up the tape and carefully wrap the parcel and add a ribbon that it takes for the recipient to rip off the paper and scan the gift. I know that we are better people than this but the monkey of greed just jumps on our backs.
Our dinner was perfection, so tasty and even more wonderful becaue everyone pitched in to help. Ashley had made an amazing sweet potato pie from scratch...really scratch, she worked hard and it was worth it. This is a new food path we are on, imagine our family usually so stiffly directed by tradition casting aside the mincemeat pie, plum pudding and brandy sauce and stepped into the american sweet potato pie world
We should have had many more at our table to share the bounty.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
How I found out that Santa really exists
I heard a bunch of whining phone-ins on the radio yesterday. Each one whinging about how their childhoods were ruined by their misguided and delusional parents who taught them to believe in the Santa fairy tale. Wimpering over their lack of coping skills which they needed to deal with the harsh realities of life, like paying credit cards and making their own beds.
There were some grumblings of litigation.
The callers were mostly in their twenties and thirties and still living in their parent's basements after their second or third divorce. Hungover and sunburned from their Mexican holidays, they were returning to face the reality of having to buy their own Christmas presents and being reminded by their broke and exhausted parents that there really is no big elf to do it for them.
They blamed mater and pater for perpetuating the myth in the first place.
Oh good grief I thought. " Do we need helmets for this too? Must we always be saved from ourselves?
As I drove along listeing to the radio I recalled my own childhood Santa memory.
This is my tale of how I found out the truth about Santa.
I must have been around 6, I know for some pretentious worldly toddlers that might seem old by today's standards, but we were slow then.
It was early December in Calgary and 55 years ago people didn't start decorating and filling the stores with seasonal stuff until the middle of December. But the kids in my neighbourhood had started to talk about the big event. We began to make up a list of the things we wanted for Christmas. Our lists were filled with things that we saw our friends may have had and that we had seen in the Eaton's or Sears' catalogues. We didn't have a TV so there were no ads yet.
Shopping trips downtown had drawn us to the the toy department of the big stores and enormous Christmas window displays of toy trains and sweet dolls with silky vinyl hair.
We were nudged by our parents to add things to our lists that they could afford to let us believe might come our way. I never dreamt of scarves or mittens, but of fancy white leather figure skates.
We cut out the pictures and glued them into our scrap books. Every kid had a scrap book. We used Elmer's clear yellow glue in the glass bottle with the red rubber top and pencil crayons to decorate the pages with our drawings of mistletoe, Christmas trees and cotton wool snow balls. We made miles of paper chains to decorate the tree.
I can't remember wanting anything in particular enough to put it in the scrapbook but I obliged my mother and wiled away many gloomy dark December afternoons creating these pages. We cut out old Christmas cards together and created scenes that I remember to this day.
We had Christmas plays and we could say the word 'Christmas' outloud and not pretend it was something else. We had Jewish friends who also glued cotton balls and sparkles to their scrap book pages and filled it full of things they wanted.
Usually there was a project at school to create something that would forever be a family heirloom and most golden of gifts. This year the girls were making knitting needle and yarn holders out of Quaker Oat cereal containers. The Quaker Oat company sold their oat cereal in a six inch diameter tube in those days. There was a sleeve of poster paper to be fitted around the container and lots of tissue glued on that and thick layers of sparkle and yarn samples upon that. The knitting holders required many days to dry as one can imagine with the amounts of glue we used. Keeping the secret of this magnificent gift was an enormous responsibility
One day I argued with my mother over something and I was so mad that I told her I was NOT going to give her the knitting container that I had made. I heard myself reveal the secret and I was helpless to retrieve the words.
By some miracle my mother had forgotten what I had said and was as surprised at the gift as I had hoped she would be on Christmas morning.
My family's church, Chalmers Presbyterian had begun the ersatz religious hype of Christmas, little paper displays of wise men, donkeys, diamond shaped yellow stars, shepherds with sheep and crooks and the nativity scene decorated the basement where the Sunday school was held.
There was always a White elephant sale about the second week of December and I took my hard earned coins to the sale and bought the gifts I would give my family members. I bought my mother a slightly cracked plastic ivory palm tree brooch and a huge bottle of lovely pink coloured acne cream, for my father, a pair of knee high red golf socks, and for my sister a golden book of the Happy Bunny with only a few wrinkled pages.
The excitment of Christmas glowed in my happy little soul as I wrapped the gifts and hid them under my bed.
Roles were announced for the Christmas concert at school and we practiced our lines and sang the carols every morning after singing God Save the Queen and saluting the flag. I was a tall child so the role of one of the villagers was always mine. I don't think I have ever seen that role reprised anywhere since, but my teacher managed to help me believe that this was a critical character.
On an evening after dinner just before the third week of December we would pile into the 1949 blue Chrysler sedan to go to the tree lots to buy the family Christmas tree. In the trunk would be yards of rope and old sheets to put between the tree and the car roof top.
We always tried to choose the perfect tree, almost always falling short of that goal and bringing home a tree with a huge bald spot. Of course it had to be carefully measured , then shortened as the trunk sawn flat many times then nailed to the 2x4's which would hold it up. The tree was set out to thaw on the back porch waiting for the lower branches to gracefully open out and for the sap to drip onto the mat before it was allowed to come into the house bringing its lovely foresty smell of spruce.
The approach of Christmas was definitely in the air, I know that a day didn't go by when I didn't think of it. There was baking to do with my mum, decorating sugar cookies for the school Christmas tea and bake sale.
Then came the evening that we went shopping for new shoes. New fancy shoes happened twice a year. Just before Christmas and just before Easter. Christmas shoes were always black maryjanes with a strap and some kind of decoration. We had neighbours that owned a shoe store downtown. After Dad came home from work we would drive downtown, awed at all the hanging Christmas lights. The store would be filled with other little kids, all playing in the foot xray machine. Our mother had been a nurse and she was deathly respectful and afraid of xrays so we were not allowed to go anywhere near it. I loved the smell of new shoes and rode home with my nose buried in them.
The final and most important event of our Christmas social season was the Christmas party in the church basement where Santa was the guest of honour.
The smell of wet wool rose from the radiators where people had hung their winter coats to dry. Puddles formed around the winter boots on the floor from the melting snow.
My sister and I were all dressed up in our homemade red velvet dresses with the lace collars and our new shoes. The excitement level was nearing hysteria, a few fights had broken out among the boys and some of the girls looked feverish with red cheeks and glassy eyes.
Finally, to a great fanfare of ringing bells Santa arrived dragging a huge brown potato sack, lumpy with gifts. He was magnificent in his red velvet suit, the exasct same colour as my dress.
I felt like royalty.
A long line up formed and each child climbed onto his knee and shyly told him their secret desire.
Finally my turn was near, I scanned Santa from head to toe, admiring his wonderful elfish self perched way up high on the Christmas throne.
His shoes, black and shiny, looked familiar. They looked very familiar. My dad had shoes like that.
I climbed on Santa's knee. Santa warpped me in his arms and said. "Hello little girl, what would you like for Christmas." Santa had an Austalian accent. My dad had an Australian accent.
I looked up and into Santa's eyes. They looked like my dad's eyes. His cheeks sported an unearthly bright red glow, almost the same as my mother's lipstick.
Santa said,"Well, Deed you have a happy Christmas."
Gee Santa knew my nickname!
On the way home I heard my parents talking with low voices in the front seat. They were concerned that they had outed Santa to me.
But, I was so happy, I was probably the luckiest kid in the world.
I think I figured it out...Santa was my dad.
There were some grumblings of litigation.
The callers were mostly in their twenties and thirties and still living in their parent's basements after their second or third divorce. Hungover and sunburned from their Mexican holidays, they were returning to face the reality of having to buy their own Christmas presents and being reminded by their broke and exhausted parents that there really is no big elf to do it for them.
They blamed mater and pater for perpetuating the myth in the first place.
Oh good grief I thought. " Do we need helmets for this too? Must we always be saved from ourselves?
As I drove along listeing to the radio I recalled my own childhood Santa memory.
This is my tale of how I found out the truth about Santa.
I must have been around 6, I know for some pretentious worldly toddlers that might seem old by today's standards, but we were slow then.
It was early December in Calgary and 55 years ago people didn't start decorating and filling the stores with seasonal stuff until the middle of December. But the kids in my neighbourhood had started to talk about the big event. We began to make up a list of the things we wanted for Christmas. Our lists were filled with things that we saw our friends may have had and that we had seen in the Eaton's or Sears' catalogues. We didn't have a TV so there were no ads yet.
Shopping trips downtown had drawn us to the the toy department of the big stores and enormous Christmas window displays of toy trains and sweet dolls with silky vinyl hair.
We were nudged by our parents to add things to our lists that they could afford to let us believe might come our way. I never dreamt of scarves or mittens, but of fancy white leather figure skates.
We cut out the pictures and glued them into our scrap books. Every kid had a scrap book. We used Elmer's clear yellow glue in the glass bottle with the red rubber top and pencil crayons to decorate the pages with our drawings of mistletoe, Christmas trees and cotton wool snow balls. We made miles of paper chains to decorate the tree.
I can't remember wanting anything in particular enough to put it in the scrapbook but I obliged my mother and wiled away many gloomy dark December afternoons creating these pages. We cut out old Christmas cards together and created scenes that I remember to this day.
We had Christmas plays and we could say the word 'Christmas' outloud and not pretend it was something else. We had Jewish friends who also glued cotton balls and sparkles to their scrap book pages and filled it full of things they wanted.
Usually there was a project at school to create something that would forever be a family heirloom and most golden of gifts. This year the girls were making knitting needle and yarn holders out of Quaker Oat cereal containers. The Quaker Oat company sold their oat cereal in a six inch diameter tube in those days. There was a sleeve of poster paper to be fitted around the container and lots of tissue glued on that and thick layers of sparkle and yarn samples upon that. The knitting holders required many days to dry as one can imagine with the amounts of glue we used. Keeping the secret of this magnificent gift was an enormous responsibility
One day I argued with my mother over something and I was so mad that I told her I was NOT going to give her the knitting container that I had made. I heard myself reveal the secret and I was helpless to retrieve the words.
By some miracle my mother had forgotten what I had said and was as surprised at the gift as I had hoped she would be on Christmas morning.
My family's church, Chalmers Presbyterian had begun the ersatz religious hype of Christmas, little paper displays of wise men, donkeys, diamond shaped yellow stars, shepherds with sheep and crooks and the nativity scene decorated the basement where the Sunday school was held.
There was always a White elephant sale about the second week of December and I took my hard earned coins to the sale and bought the gifts I would give my family members. I bought my mother a slightly cracked plastic ivory palm tree brooch and a huge bottle of lovely pink coloured acne cream, for my father, a pair of knee high red golf socks, and for my sister a golden book of the Happy Bunny with only a few wrinkled pages.
The excitment of Christmas glowed in my happy little soul as I wrapped the gifts and hid them under my bed.
Roles were announced for the Christmas concert at school and we practiced our lines and sang the carols every morning after singing God Save the Queen and saluting the flag. I was a tall child so the role of one of the villagers was always mine. I don't think I have ever seen that role reprised anywhere since, but my teacher managed to help me believe that this was a critical character.
On an evening after dinner just before the third week of December we would pile into the 1949 blue Chrysler sedan to go to the tree lots to buy the family Christmas tree. In the trunk would be yards of rope and old sheets to put between the tree and the car roof top.
We always tried to choose the perfect tree, almost always falling short of that goal and bringing home a tree with a huge bald spot. Of course it had to be carefully measured , then shortened as the trunk sawn flat many times then nailed to the 2x4's which would hold it up. The tree was set out to thaw on the back porch waiting for the lower branches to gracefully open out and for the sap to drip onto the mat before it was allowed to come into the house bringing its lovely foresty smell of spruce.
The approach of Christmas was definitely in the air, I know that a day didn't go by when I didn't think of it. There was baking to do with my mum, decorating sugar cookies for the school Christmas tea and bake sale.
Then came the evening that we went shopping for new shoes. New fancy shoes happened twice a year. Just before Christmas and just before Easter. Christmas shoes were always black maryjanes with a strap and some kind of decoration. We had neighbours that owned a shoe store downtown. After Dad came home from work we would drive downtown, awed at all the hanging Christmas lights. The store would be filled with other little kids, all playing in the foot xray machine. Our mother had been a nurse and she was deathly respectful and afraid of xrays so we were not allowed to go anywhere near it. I loved the smell of new shoes and rode home with my nose buried in them.
The final and most important event of our Christmas social season was the Christmas party in the church basement where Santa was the guest of honour.
The smell of wet wool rose from the radiators where people had hung their winter coats to dry. Puddles formed around the winter boots on the floor from the melting snow.
My sister and I were all dressed up in our homemade red velvet dresses with the lace collars and our new shoes. The excitement level was nearing hysteria, a few fights had broken out among the boys and some of the girls looked feverish with red cheeks and glassy eyes.
Finally, to a great fanfare of ringing bells Santa arrived dragging a huge brown potato sack, lumpy with gifts. He was magnificent in his red velvet suit, the exasct same colour as my dress.
I felt like royalty.
A long line up formed and each child climbed onto his knee and shyly told him their secret desire.
Finally my turn was near, I scanned Santa from head to toe, admiring his wonderful elfish self perched way up high on the Christmas throne.
His shoes, black and shiny, looked familiar. They looked very familiar. My dad had shoes like that.
I climbed on Santa's knee. Santa warpped me in his arms and said. "Hello little girl, what would you like for Christmas." Santa had an Austalian accent. My dad had an Australian accent.
I looked up and into Santa's eyes. They looked like my dad's eyes. His cheeks sported an unearthly bright red glow, almost the same as my mother's lipstick.
Santa said,"Well, Deed you have a happy Christmas."
Gee Santa knew my nickname!
On the way home I heard my parents talking with low voices in the front seat. They were concerned that they had outed Santa to me.
But, I was so happy, I was probably the luckiest kid in the world.
I think I figured it out...Santa was my dad.
The Return
It is so nice to be home, I don't seem to be able to stay away longer than 8-10 days before I need my own bed and a lick from my dog and I need to get my act together for Christmas. Our hostesses Heidi and Donna respectively went out of their way to make our visits so enjoyable. Thank you my friends. We both felt so comfortable in your homes.
We had a wonderful dinner with our real estate ladies. The Terrace Garden put on an amazing dinner and with comfortable company, the evening was a very pleasant experience. And profitable I hope. Well, I am sure it will be.
Thanks everyone for making our sojourn east a pleasant experience.
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| D and D's house in Eden Mills |
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| Just a charming pastoral scene |
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| Another pastoral scene |
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| There is nothing like a wonderful dinner, cooked and eaten with dear old friends |
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| From the sublime to the frantic |
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
the weather
Oh the weather outside is frightful but the fire is so delightful....blah blah.
Okay settle down everyone, especially you in the back row, we are fine, we are not stuck in the snow and our little jeep is getting us around nicely. But with a nod to the weather gods, because they could turn their nasty vindictive eye to us on a whim, we are respectful of the vagaries of the weather in these parts.
The so called 'lake effect' blizzards whirl around and wipe out different towns willy nilly.
I hear the folks in Sarnia, Petrolia and London haven't seen daylight for 48 hours, the storm trapped some hapless unprepared souls and even the military can't get them out.
Today B and I toured the village of Eden Mills, and dropped into the Art Gallery. We were mightily impressed and astonished at the age of the building. Two foot wide planks on the floors and stone construction. Some of the mixed media sculpture is absolutely stunning.
Then off to Rockwood another charming little hamlet just oozing cute and I loaded up on local maple sugar fudge. Yes Ashley I have a box of it coming home for Christmas.
We motored on past the pastoral Mennonite dairy farms and into Guelph and a hot Thai soup for lunch.
D&D were in Hamilton today, Donna at the dentist and David administering exams to the poor students at Hamilton Uni.
Our business party is tomorrow and we will fight the roads to get there and then home to Calgary on Thursday.
Okay settle down everyone, especially you in the back row, we are fine, we are not stuck in the snow and our little jeep is getting us around nicely. But with a nod to the weather gods, because they could turn their nasty vindictive eye to us on a whim, we are respectful of the vagaries of the weather in these parts.
The so called 'lake effect' blizzards whirl around and wipe out different towns willy nilly.
I hear the folks in Sarnia, Petrolia and London haven't seen daylight for 48 hours, the storm trapped some hapless unprepared souls and even the military can't get them out.
Today B and I toured the village of Eden Mills, and dropped into the Art Gallery. We were mightily impressed and astonished at the age of the building. Two foot wide planks on the floors and stone construction. Some of the mixed media sculpture is absolutely stunning.
Then off to Rockwood another charming little hamlet just oozing cute and I loaded up on local maple sugar fudge. Yes Ashley I have a box of it coming home for Christmas.
We motored on past the pastoral Mennonite dairy farms and into Guelph and a hot Thai soup for lunch.
D&D were in Hamilton today, Donna at the dentist and David administering exams to the poor students at Hamilton Uni.
Our business party is tomorrow and we will fight the roads to get there and then home to Calgary on Thursday.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Rural Ontario today
Years ago David and Donna nearly came to blows while they were trying to put the lights on their Christmas tree. David says they were spinning the alimony wheel. Just at the moment that they were about to sink carving knives into each other, an old friend Bob Hamper knocked on the door. He sat them both down, put a drink in their hands and proceeded to put the the lights and decorations on the tree and that is how Bob saved Christmas. He is their family's hero and has an open ticket to their home/
Donna thought this was such a good idea to have Bob arrive to decorate the tree that they decided to hold an annual party to accomplish the task. Over time people have arrived as strangers and left as friends, some people accompanied others only to bring more inductees the next year.
We enjoyed a wonderful meal and lots of good wine and music in the living room. David played his trombone, Mike Malone played his horn and Don Thompson played the piano. Everyone had so much fun listening and playing the music. We listened to Don's new CD 'Pink'. I am going to get a copy when we get home it was only released yesterday. Diana Panton is the singer. You should google these folks
There were some large and sore heads this morning.
We ate a lovely breakfast cheffed by Chuck and Dave. Chuck is a music prof at U of Michigan Lansing and his lovely new bride Deb is a visual arts prof at same uni. Funny thing, there is more than one common thread connecting all of us. The obvious ones are good music and great reads but growing in importance is the love of food. Good food, Well prepared and thoughtfully presented food. Of course everything ingredient is carefully sourced and reverently chosen for the recipes that are often competetively created.
There is nothing like a bunch of foodies hanging over your plate waiting your critique.
So, rural Ontario on a winter's day in December is snowrain. No snow on the roads, but thick cold slush is building up on the patio. The path through the woods over the bridge to the mill pond is squashy and damp. It is 5:00pm as I type this and the dark descends. The McMurdo's house is a a solid old brick Ontario farm house. Or at least it looks like one, actually I think it was built in the sixties and so it has better insulation than most. Lovely dormers on the front of the house add to the charm.
I do like the old architecture, not so sure about living in it but the charm just oozes, particularly in the comfortable neighbourhood in which the Cassidy/Mohr clan live. Although I think their house is a sixties house as well. Liza and Derrick who are Heidi's bro and wife live in the town of Clarence in an ancient house with exposed beams and lots of character. Liza was kind enough to take our pictures and she is another one you should google as I am so impressed with her photography that I was eager to see what she could do with us.
I will be posting pictures when I find the cord to connect to the lap top but in the mean time you will have to use the ones I have planted in your head.
particularly the ones of Niagara Falls. I know it sounds kooky but we drove up from Williamsville in the late afternoon with a goal in mind of seeing the falls in daylight and then in coloured lights at the night fell. Along the way Dan drove us through the ever popular tourist attraction of Love Canal and then to the American Falls on Goat Island.
There is so much spray from the falls that when it hits the trees and freezes great chunks of ice fall to the ground with groans and slaps. You want to keep your wits about you and your eyes open wary of a falling chunks of ice.
The ubiquitous Keg dinner rounded off our day and we drove home to fall into our beds to sleep perchance to dream.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Giggling Gertie Gwenn
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| Gwenn and Shelley stopped by for tea this afternoon. Little Gwenn had a giggle fit and of course I couldn't remember where my camera was in time. Typical of kids and pets, they stop doing the $1,000,000. thing when the shutter opens. She was glad to flirt over her mother's shoulder though...what a cutie pie. |
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
I am Going to Become a Hermit
Then I cleaned the kitchen.
I am looking forward to sitting around reading books until the weather breaks, it could be days, what luxury. Just stretching out on the couch by the window in front of the fireplace, under an afgan. I wonder how long it will take until I can't stand it any more, and need human companionship. Ah... never, I have a dog.I could stay here forever.
Oh no, I have a workshop rah rah meeting tomorrow. Oh no, I forgot about that. Oh what a waste, I should have spent the day reading in my messy house.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Ashley's new show
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
My Birthday in the Kananaskis
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| What a lovely day, the weather was warm when we left home...+14C and dropped to about +5 by the time we got to Kananaskis Lodge for brunch. We ate too much but drove down Hwy 40 to Hwy 541 and back home but along the way... |
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| This was the first frost of winter, like a dusting of icing sugar.We were pretty high up but not yet at the highest point slong the road. |
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| I love those ears, she can't hear a thing but it has been her job for all of her life to the the sentry. She loves her back seat, she has a lot of room back there, more than any other vehicle she has owned. Yes, it is true we get cars to fit the dog, it is all about her, this one has lots of windows and the back window on this one has a nice ledge to rest her chin upon. |
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| This mountain sheep just stood there, he had been posing for the cars ahead of us and now he was just waiting to jump the rail and go down for a drink in the river. |
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| I love this cloud, it just hung over this mountain and didn't move, a foreshadowing of winter. |
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| This sheep just walked along the road, we couldn't pass him, he had been on the yellow line until I found the camera and then he moved just a tad. It was his road afterall. |
Monday, November 1, 2010
And we're off
Once again we are going to a reunion. This time in the middle of December. Well, many reunions and all in one locale. Firstly we are going to Buff to see the wee one,Kat. We are looking forward to that, I miss her smile. She has a killer grin.
Then back to Upper Canada to a rural idyllic mill town to help decorate the Christmas tree with old friends, actually Bryan's best man and his family. They are inviting friends, old university pals to a Saturday night gathering. There will be so much BS and old stories told over and over and over ad nauseum. Ahhh lots of fun. Hmmm I am visualizing deep snow, sleigh bells, children ice skating on the mill pond, music in the parlour. No? Traffic and crowded malls? Well, you are probably right.
Then on to Toronto to meet new business friends gathering for a dinner party, where we will finally meet in person as opposed to our e-mail relationships. Again, another event to look forward to.
I sure hope the predicted boat loads of snow hold off until we get home.
Then back to Upper Canada to a rural idyllic mill town to help decorate the Christmas tree with old friends, actually Bryan's best man and his family. They are inviting friends, old university pals to a Saturday night gathering. There will be so much BS and old stories told over and over and over ad nauseum. Ahhh lots of fun. Hmmm I am visualizing deep snow, sleigh bells, children ice skating on the mill pond, music in the parlour. No? Traffic and crowded malls? Well, you are probably right.
Then on to Toronto to meet new business friends gathering for a dinner party, where we will finally meet in person as opposed to our e-mail relationships. Again, another event to look forward to.
I sure hope the predicted boat loads of snow hold off until we get home.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Snow before the end of October
We usually get snow before the end of the first week of November but it snowed here this morning Oct 25. Arghhh!
I wonder if this means a cold winter or just an anomoly. But it is only a skiff, just enough to warn us to get the furniture off the deck and put the unbrellas away.
Today is the day the Genny's head get changed out. Finally after waiting nearly 2 and 1/2 months, Hyundai finally called to tell us that the brains of \B's car has come in from Germany. Or at least that that is the story.
Will post later to let you know. Hope springs eternal.
I wonder if this means a cold winter or just an anomoly. But it is only a skiff, just enough to warn us to get the furniture off the deck and put the unbrellas away.
Today is the day the Genny's head get changed out. Finally after waiting nearly 2 and 1/2 months, Hyundai finally called to tell us that the brains of \B's car has come in from Germany. Or at least that that is the story.
Will post later to let you know. Hope springs eternal.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
I am still in my nightgown and its nearly noon.
Its been a miserable week. Got a call from the Bethany Lifeline people...my aunt was on the way to the hospital. Once more she had felt like she was going to pass out, we had been through this early in the week and I had gone racing up to her place and took her to the doctor with no resolution. This time she pressed the button, ems arrived and off she went. I got to the hospital shortly after she did, after trying to track her down, some bullshit about the Privacy Act and they couldn't tell me which hospital she had been taken to and blah bah blah. I said to the Patient Advocate (another trumped up provincial job with a pension and mandate to obfuscate) what would you do if you were me? and I bullied him into telling me where she was. And to boot I am on the list as a responder!! Jeeze. What a stupid system that is trying to protect us from ourselves.
She won't be going home, another family member bubbles to the surface with dementia. Dementia is such a creeping horrible disease or condition that at least in our family allows its victims to skillfully cover up their memory loss and confusion until one day the bubble pops and the only salvation is a trip to the hospital not to go home again. She is what they call in the system a "bed blocker". She cannot go home until a new home with memory care and dining service is found for her. Thank goodness her son has done the leg work, and h e has a goal in mind. Until then the system will do its thing and hopefully the transition will be smooth for her. Ha! Yeah right. But not for her son who is faced with the massive job of disposing of her stuff. It will be a huge job, but a hey day for the homeless (lots of socks to donate, and nail clippers and stuff stuff and more stuff.)
At the same time, Erin and Walter are having a horrible time as Walter's father is in heart failure, after 3 weeks of having one heart attack after another, he thought he had the flu, he drove himself to the hosptital and was given an immediate triple bypass. So far today, 3 days after the surgery, he has been shocked 7 times over night and 12 more times this morning and is occasionally conscious. We can only send him our thoughts and help the kids where we can. They are all terrified . And so sad. Bill squeezes their hands. Its the only thing he can do.
2010 is just a shitty year.
She won't be going home, another family member bubbles to the surface with dementia. Dementia is such a creeping horrible disease or condition that at least in our family allows its victims to skillfully cover up their memory loss and confusion until one day the bubble pops and the only salvation is a trip to the hospital not to go home again. She is what they call in the system a "bed blocker". She cannot go home until a new home with memory care and dining service is found for her. Thank goodness her son has done the leg work, and h e has a goal in mind. Until then the system will do its thing and hopefully the transition will be smooth for her. Ha! Yeah right. But not for her son who is faced with the massive job of disposing of her stuff. It will be a huge job, but a hey day for the homeless (lots of socks to donate, and nail clippers and stuff stuff and more stuff.)
At the same time, Erin and Walter are having a horrible time as Walter's father is in heart failure, after 3 weeks of having one heart attack after another, he thought he had the flu, he drove himself to the hosptital and was given an immediate triple bypass. So far today, 3 days after the surgery, he has been shocked 7 times over night and 12 more times this morning and is occasionally conscious. We can only send him our thoughts and help the kids where we can. They are all terrified . And so sad. Bill squeezes their hands. Its the only thing he can do.
2010 is just a shitty year.
Monday, October 11, 2010
What are we Grateful for? What do we Appreciate?
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| This picture was taken about 7:30 AM when the rainbow caught the early sun and geese flew over. The scene changed seconds later when the sun rose higher and caught the mountains in pink and stole the rainbow. |
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All the food was perfect, everybody brought a contribution and it was a delicious dinner. I laughed and laughed. I have the funniest family in the world. |
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| Shelley, Gwenn and the Mexican wrestling Thanksgiving Turkey |
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| Wee Willy Winkie ready for Bed |
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Back again
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| Doesn't look too bad eh? |
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| Oh horrors I forgot to hide the laundry basket. |
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| He is hiding in shame... |
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| In out in out up down up down ..its exhausting |
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| It was a long time ago but I still wonder why did they chop these old trees down? |
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| An old lady in a leg brace |
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| No dogs allowed...no wonder |
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| This pastural scene is right across the street from Mike and Louise |
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| Gabriola |
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| The opening bars to John's first composition |
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| Rick, Dick and B |
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| Happy campers |
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| Peg and Mike |
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| Peg admiring the canvas on her boat |
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| moi and Peg and her boat |
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| a rolling bundle of yorkie...Zeke and Charlie |
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| As still as they ever got |
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| The view... |
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| Her back to the view |
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| Pretty big eh? |
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| She is just too cute |
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| Tawny's pic |
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