Something…Deadly…?

Tags

birthday, birthday party, family

Something old. Something new. Something deadly? Something blue.

Monday was my birthday, and I discovered something exciting! Math has never been my strong suit, so ahem…imagine my delight when I discovered I was actually turning a year younger than I thought!

My parents drove 4 hours ( or so, round trip) to spend it with me. Big Guy also had the day off. And a friend joined the rest of us ( Hubby and Little Guy too) for dinner. How blessed am I?

We feasted on pizza, because nothing says celebrate getting older like bacon and cheese, and the homemade cake I baked (& will talk about next Monday)!

So what’s old, new, deadly and blue? Some of my birthday presents, of course!

OLD

My aunt gave me this watch and photos, as well as its story.

My Grandmother’s sweetheart (or friend) gave her this watch. He worked in the local bank, but it couldn’t hold on during the depression. The bank closed,  and he moved home to his family’s farm. They kept in touch, but on the night before my Grandmother’s wedding, she sent him a letter telling him that as a married woman, she could no longer correspond. She sometimes wondered what her life might have been like as a banker’s wife?

The time changes, it’s just not the correct time. I still think it’s a really cool piece of history, and I will wear it often.

NEW

Who doesn’t love a new pair of shoes?

Little Guy gave me a new chair for my back porch, and I already have a stack of books for my summer reading.

DEADLY

Big Guy was the most creative this year, and has his Mama’s security and health at heart. When the zombie apocalypse hits, I’m ready!

BLUE

I have to give Hubby credit. He patiently trailed me through the mall for 2 hours on a Friday night, so I could look for “something special” for my birthday. It wasn’t easy, but in the end I chose a blue striped nightshirt from Victoria Secret.

This summer, I’m going to relax on my back porch in my comfortable chair, wearing my oversized nightshirt and my sexy shoes. My watch won’t tell me the time so I legitimately lose track of it…and if anyone messes with me, I can flash them a smile…and my zombie killer blade.

Welcome year 46!

Tea for Two

Tags

family, friends, grief, memories, tea

We use the expression all the time (or some of us do!) – “Good Grief”. But it seems in the midst of it, there’s nothing good. There’s shock and numbness before the searing pain of loss sets in. Then grief hovers at the edges of the soul, and pounces when it’s least expected. Many lovely people have asked me how I’m doing. How can I explain that I have internal bleeding from a gaping hole in my heart? That I’m bone weary, and yet lie awake at night? Instead I say “I’m fine”. Sometimes I am. And I know that one day, I will be.

I’m trying to focus on what’s “good” in the grief, to see beauty in the Opera of the everyday and in the ways we fall apart.

I was there. So often, all I could do when my friend struggled, was to be present. This week, I tried to be present for her family, in whatever small ways I could. They let me see her in the ICU, so I could tell her I love her. They let me share some of my memories in the service. They let me do a few small things, for her.

I got to hug my family. My kids, my husband, my parents. My friend and partner in crime. Even Big Guy’s friend (who I call my adopted kid). Time together is always precious.

I tried to delight in little things, like sassy red shoes, and an indulgent pair of silk stockings. I wore my little black dress, the one that only comes out of the closet for funerals. I ate a sweet butter tart square, even though I gave up all forms of dessert for Lent. I stopped and smelled the roses, especially the pink ones.

I listened to stories about Ruth. I listened as others shared how much they will miss her, how much she meant to them. I connected with strangers, with whom I might have nothing else in common and will never see again, but we could be honest and vulnerable together.

I honoured my friend, my “Mom”, who would have been proud of me. She would haveloved the gathering of family and friends, and relished all the attention.

After the reception, my posse (minus my parents who needed to get home to finish packing for their big trip), met at Tim Horton’s . It seemed an appropriate place to gather, where we had gathered with her a thousand times, to share our laughs and frustrations over a cup of tea. It was so full, we moved the party to the house. We kicked off our shoes and tucked up in the living room. And started to breathe again…

Family is more than blood. Families are made of those who you welcome in, share “silent unspeakable memories” with, express vulnerability with, work to climb the highs and lows of life with, and who you love with all your heart.
– Maya Angelou

It’s quiet today, something I yearned for these past two weeks. The hydro is off, so there are no distractions (kind of chilly though). Even Chloe, our crazy cavy, is quiet. I have flipped through photo images of my friend; there are more journal entries and stories than photos. I have cried, and laughed a little in the sanctuary of my bed, reliving adventures and comments. I have wondered if I could have said something more or different when I spoke at the funeral.

But it’s time to get up, to get dressed, to make a cup of tea…for two.

Ruth was a colourful thread running through the tapestry of our lives. While God has now written her from our stories, her love and spirit have left an indelible mark.

 

TGIF

Tags

humour

It’s been a hell of a week.

I know some people will find that an offensive statement, and I’m sorry. But I am so tired.

I had quite an adventure this week. Not all adventures are planned…or pleasant.

Sometimes they start with a phone call and someone yelling at the other end. They require you to pull up your big girl panties, so you can go places you would never plan to go. Like the ICU of an hospital in the heart of a major city, where you hold vigil for a friend, in stunned silence, for an eternity. Like walking unfamiliar streets late at night, searching for a car in every lot and parking lot near the theater where your friend suffered a massive heart attack. Like sharing the story over and over again to complete strangers. Like stopping at a gas station and boldly knocking on the car window of a stranger (who was high), in a bad neighbourhood at midnight, for directions to the highway… so you could go home and lie awake.

And every morning since, waking up as tired as the night before, with a heaviness in your soul that no amount of chocolate could ever touch.

Oh, what a night! It’s a story worthy of pen and paper. One day. Even now I catch myself smiling when I think about some of the people we met, and just the utter ridiculousness of parts of it, until I remember why we were there in the first place, and my heart breaks again.

It’s been a hell of a week. I certainly hope yours was better.

Thank you to those who know and love my friend, and have been praying for her and her family. Have a blessed weekend.

Flashback Friday: Christmas 2018

Tags

awkward family photos, Christmas, family, humour

People say I’m crazy, but they haven’t met my family! – Anonymous

As hinted at last week, I am posting this year’s annual traditional “4 family on the couch”.

They are hardly perfect pics, but show me a perfect family photo, and I’ll show you a family that lies!

Having one child makes you a parent, having two, you are a referee. – David Frost

In the end, the merriment was too much for me. I woke the next day having finally succumbed to the doses Hubby & Little Guy had had in the weeks leading up to Christmas…and I threw my back out schooching over in bed. I spent the rest of Boxing Day in a chair with the remote, my sewing and a heating pad, watching Friends re-runs!

Looking forward, I have no idea what 2019 might entail, and rather than worrying about it, I’m going to boil the kettle and settle in for a long winter’s nap.

My doctor asked if any members of my family suffered from insanity. I replied ‘no, we seem to enjoy it’. – Anonymous

Happy Weekend!

Flashback Friday: Christmas 1974

Tags

Christmas, family, memories

I’m not sure if this is 1974, although that’s what is marked on the slide. I think I look older than 18 months. Regardless of how old I am, obviously whatever my brother is eating looks good. My guess is milk and cookies, possibly a snack before bed, after we fixed a plate for Santa. Or maybe…he stole this off Santa’s plate.

That spot, right where I’m planted, is pretty much where I was trapped one Christmas night several years later. Dad was working the night shift, and I was sleeping with my Mom. My grandparents were sleeping on the pullout couch on the main floor. The tree was in this room next door. Our stockings were hung in the corner on that same chair.

I had crept down the stairs to poke around, and I might have been more successful if my Grandparents hadn’t decided to turn on the lights and have a conversation, between trips to the bathroom. I crouched, frozen (and freezing) in my pink nightie, terrified I would be discovered by them, or Mom. I had been gone a long time! It was a very long (and very boring) conversation. Neither one could hear the other and they had to repeat everything, making it even longer (and more boring). Fortunately I got away with it, and I didn’t tell a soul for many years.

Did it cure me of snooping? Sadly, note for a few years! Now that I’m older (and can no longer creep down the stairs without making them creak), I’m happy to let Santa do all the sneaking!

Happy Weekend!

Friday Flashback: Santa’s Village, 1978

Tags

Christmas, family, memories

In the Summer of 1978, we visited Santa’s Village in Vermont. I was 5. I vaguely remember a few rides, a large climber, and feeding the deer. Lunch was a picnic. The highlight, of course, was talking to Santa.

Mom and Dad let my brother and I each pick out a Christmas ornament from the Souvenir shop. My brother chose a straw mouse soldier. I chose a cardboard angel with a lace dress, a sparkly halo, and gauzy wings. She’s a little battered, but I still have her!

It was a magical Christmas in July!

We took Little Guy to a Santa’s Village near us a few summers ago. Instead of camping, we stayed in a hotel. He wasn’t overly impressed and refused to visit Santa. It was a scorching day, and I can’t imagine what the temperature would be inside the Workshop.  He’s also way more mature than his mother!

Have a Magical Weekend!

Hole-Some Foods

Tags

baking, family, food, sweets

I remember making doughnuts with my mother and grandparents. My job was to cut the holes or to watch the doughnuts frying in the oil and let Mom know when they were ready to be rolled. We called the tiny doughnut holes, doughnut buttons.

It was a tradition I wanted to share with my boys. This weekend,  my mother and I got to share it with Little Guy. First, we let him measure and mix the dough.

Next we rolled them out and he cut them with the same tools I had used as a kid – a drinking glass and a thimble.

Finally, we fried them in oil in a fryer. As a kid, we used an electric frying pan. This was a lot safer!

My Great-Grandmother’s recipe said “Salvation Doughtnuts”. Apparently, these doughnuts were first made by Salvation Army volunteers in World War I. They set up service huts in abandoned buildings near the front lines where they could serve the soldiers baked goods.

The best part is eating them warm. The next day I made Jelly Busters, a yeast-based doughnut that requires a lot of time to prove the dough. Otherwise the process is the same.

And once they’re cooled, we add apple jelly inside, and sprinkle icing sugar on top. Just like when I was a kid…

I miss my Grandparents, especially as the holidays get closer. So being able to share this family tradition with my boy was really special and I hope we created special memories for him.

Nobody can do for little children what Grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children. – Alex Haley

 

 

 

 

Celebrating Like a Royal

Tags

#RoyalWedding, #whatsinmycup, tea

Both of my grandmothers and great-grandmothers were royal watchers, so it only seemed appropriate to continue the tradition. My Mom had made fascinators and set the table with vintage teacups. We had dressed up in our special nighties the night before. I staggered out in time to watch the Royal Wedding Saturday morning, with my Mom. We shared a fresh, hot pot of tea brewed in a special blue teapot my grandmother had given my mom, and we curled up under handmade quilts by her too.

We watched the post-ceremony festivities with a pot of Coffee Pu’erh tea in a vintage pot. Breakfast was pancakes and “bangers” with maple syrup from our woods. Yum! Scones with strawberry jam and cream came later.

When Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Sussex agreed to marry into The Royal Family, there were a number of rules which she had to learn to abide by, including how to hold a tea cup properly. If you are right handed, the teacup and saucer are to be held in your left hand. If you are seated at a table, the saucer must remain on the table. The cup should be held up with your thumb and forefinger, the bottom supported by the middle finger, with the others fingers tucked in. You may use the forefinger and middle fingers of your other hand to steady it. Pinky in and no fingers loop through the handle.

You must always maintain erect posture and raise the cup to your lips to take a sip of tea.

Mom, I wouldn’t want to celebrate this modern day “fairty tale” with anyone else! Love you. Cheers!

On a Jet Plane

Tags

children, faith, family, parenting

When Big Guy was 2, he used to run after me with his arms outstretched, pumping as fast as he could on his little chubby little legs, and calling “Wait me! Wait me!” Today I feel like a 2-year old. Today he’s leaving on a jet plane for England  – partly for vacation and partly as his friend’s escort to a wedding (he’s that kind of sweet)! And I’m excited for him. Excited for the adventure he’s embarking upon but… if I’m completely honest, I’m also a little terrified.

It’s a big, big world and I’ve invested my heart and soul into keeping him safe. I’ve adjusted to him spreading his wings, living his own life…but I’ve been blessed to still have him close enough to visit often…usually with dirty laundry.  England is so far away and it’s been kinda crazy there of late…what if something bad happens! I can’t drive there in a couple of hours. In fact, the thought of hopping a plane in an emergency is more adventure than I can handle. But I would do it. If he needed me to do it!

I know he’s an adult! I know he’ll be fine! I also know the next well-meaning person to tell me these things is going to get socked “right in the kisser”!

www.flickr.com-Mark Anderson

I know these things. I believe these things. But he’s my baby! Not yours. Mine! He’s my surprise baby! He blew apart my adolescent plans and set my life on a different course. For a while there, it felt like us against the world. We’ve cheered each other on (he even offered to bury me in the woods if I didn’t survive our Mud Hero run). In many ways, we grew up together and words simply can’t explain how very precious he is, and how much I love him.

I hope he knows it.

That’s the problem with “good-byes” and “see you soons”. Your whole focus goes into the preparation and the planning. You focus on savouring the joy in the time you’re together. And suddenly, it’s time to go!

I’ve been emotional all week. It’s ridiculous, I know! Believe me, I know!! I’ve chided myself more times than the number of chocolate chips in a really big cookie. I think in part, there have been a lot of changes in the last few years, and I am missing a lot of people. I miss my grandparents who have passed away. I miss my friend who has moved away. And I miss my kids as little people. I miss those good days when we played hard and laughed often in a smaller and safer world. I miss their weight and warmth as they fell asleep cocooned in the safety of my arms. Time marches on.

All my bags are packed; I’m ready to go… ‘Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane.
– John Denver

His bags are packed by the door (including new socks and underwear!). There’s already too much to say and no time left. So at 8:30 this evening, I will wave at the sky from the window. I will pray without ceasing. And when he gets home, I want to hear all about his adventure.

I really do hope he has the time of his life!

Happy Father’s Day

Tags

Dad, family, Father's Day, fathers and daughters, humour

As usual, I’m running behind posting. The idea is there (or sometimes it’s not) and I’ve written and re-written it in my head, usually in the middle of the night when I’m too lazy tired to get out of bed and look for a pencil and paper.  That, and risk exciting our guinea pig who thinks breakfast starts the moment someone stirs after a long period of silence. But I digress…

Yeah, he would look good in this! (@Pixabay)

It seems everyone, with “Daddy’s day” just around the corner, is talking about great gifts for Dad. I’m sure my Dad wouldn’t object to a new car or an Alaskan cruise, but he has me for a daughter, and I just don’t have that kind of cash. Unless the car is a Hot Wheels®.

But no, my Dad endured the annual celebration complete with lots of hugs and the usual round of crappy gifts – smeared artwork, tie cards, and jars of peanuts. One year I knit him a pair of slippers. There are only 7 shades in the rainbow…my slippers boasted 13! First, my Dad never wore slippers. Second, I didn’t have an allowance. Third, I was 11 and I didn’t know how to knit. He kept them in his dresser drawer (probably because  Mom told him he wasn’t allowed to throw them out)! They may still be there. He listens to my Mom!

Another year, I made him a jar of pickled bums! I couldn’t find the photo but it looked like this (only my “bums” were also various colours of the rainbow). I was a creative child!

I told him to throw those out last year.

One year he even got his own blog post. You should read it – I worked really hard on it and you’ll see just why he deserves so much better!

My Dad is a great guy…quiet, unassuming and patient. SO very patient! The rest of the year he put up with my fairy-princess-drama-queen-girly-girl behaviour. He even let me practice “walking down the aisle” when we walked home from figure skating practice (I think he hated every moment of it), but the practice paid off!

This year, I baked him brownies. There were from a mix. And he had to share them with the rest of the family. But in my defence, I still don’t have an allowance and it’s the thought that counts. Right?

Love you Dad!