Dear Quarantine Diary – Year 3/Week 4

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, humour

Dear Diary – So…okay. We’re not technically in Year 3 of the pandemic, but I really didn’t think anyone was going to bust my chops if I jumped ahead a little. After all, it feels more like we’re starting Year 23. The inside joke in my family is that old age starts at age 23, and this whole covid thing is certainly feeling old!

Dear Diary – I totally missed my blog’s anniversary this month. January 9 marked my 10th year writing ridiculous amusing, random insightful, and stupid thought-provoking posts. Today marks post 1803! That’s a lot of crap good stuff! 😜

Yesterday was also a special day worth celebrating. It was Eldest Son’s 32nd birthday. He is now the age I was when Youngest Son was born, and Youngest Son is now the same age I was when Eldest Son was born.

I feel old.

Chocolate cake might make me feel better.

Dear Diary – It snowed again. I realize it’s winter, but my motivation to dress up in bulky clothes that smell a bit like a wet dog, and boots that feel perpetually damp, is sadly lacking. I’ve even considered not getting dressed in the morning like Youngest Son, who can the number of days he wore pants last year, on 2 hands. He wore them because I made him.

Winter also meant it was very dark when I got up Sunday morning and headed to my car before 7:30. I was leading worship. I watched the sunrise, although it was just a gradual lightening of the sky from black to gray, to a lighter shade of gray. At least it wasn’t snowing.

Leading on Sunday was probably highly entertaining. Between my glasses, the straps on my face masks, the wires for my in-ear monitors, and the wireless mic pack with a headset, I was wired for disaster. I did actually have a wire wrapped around my ankle by the last song. At least it was only my ankle and not my throat. Perhaps if I’d had more time…I told my team that if there’s a fire, they should leave me because I wasn’t going to make it out.

Other than that…things went well!

Dear Diary – Eldest Son put a new text-based game on my cell phone. I needed Youngest Son to figure out how to play it. I’ve started a game. Let’s just say that the colonists I’m responsible for settling aren’t going to make it!

Dear Diary – The fabric I ordered online arrived. I washed and ironed it, and started cutting out my patterns, but something was wrong!

Like a carpenter, it’s “measure twice , cut once”, and like a good carpenter I meticulously measured even before I ordered my materials. I should have had enough to make 4 “sheep print” bags. Instead, I can make only 2. The printed fabric shrunk 3”! I may be able with construct a 3rd bag by doing a patchwork pattern, which takes more time. I experimented with a patches last week so it might not be too bad.

I’d still really like to set up an Etsy store and be able to contribute financially at home (or at least save up some money for a rainy day), as well as be at home. While I sometimes miss the sense of accomplishment and the affirmation of colleagues, I feel healthier and more at peace at home. I can pace myself on the days I’m feeling crummy, and I’m not as stressed out trying to fit all the little things that crop up and have to be done, in between everything else that has to be done.

I looked at a job posting this week. I know I would be really good at it! But then I went through waves of reluctance to excitement to anxiety. At one point I felt like sitting on the floor and crying like an overwhelmed 2 year old. I don’t think that’s normal.

I can remember feeling the same way when I had to decide what I wanted to do after high school, except there was a whole big empty future waiting for me. Now I have a much-smaller, less exciting future ahead of me, filled with motorized wheelchairs and absorbent underpants. That’s assuming I can afford a motorized wheelchair. I may have to settle for a dining room chair superglued to skateboards because I didn’t work during my “best years”! Maybe I should be designing washable underpants for seniors instead of japanese knot bags? At least I’d be prepared for the future.

Dear Diary – Youngest Son has now reached the age where he requires a photo on his health card. Which means I can’t do the renewal online. Which means standing in a long line in the cold, and guess what?!?! It’s snowing.

I had to yell at Youngest Son twice to get him out of bed. The second time I used all 4 of his names. I meant business!

Youngest Son hates having his photo taken so when I was asked to provide a family photo to the church, I sighed audibly, with a great deal of annoyance. I think the last family photo I have was taken like 4 years ago…

I wonder if they’d accept a sketch with stick figures?

As it turned out, when we got there, no line up! In fact, we were interrogated questioned at the door and taken straight to a wicket…where we were promptly and pleasantly served. She didn’t care that his passport was expired and accepted his report card as his second piece of identification. She never asked for the form that he “forgot to print” (even though I reminded him 4 times). We were in and out in less than 5 minutes. Truly a once in a lifetime experience!!

It took longer to get coffee at the Tim Horton’s drive-thru but mostly because it was busy…and there were a lot of drivers playing on their phones and not moving up when it was time.

I realized the sassy green boots that inspired my blog haven’t been out of the closet in years. Of course, in the last few, there was simply nowhere to go! I thought about wearing them today, but…snow. Maybe I’ll wear them to the passport office because, apparently, our passports expired last year. The last two trips were just such a positive experience.

I almost said that with a straight face.

Almost.

What’s in My Cup: ?

Tags

humour, tea, tea addict, tea lover, tea time

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.

John Lennon

Sometimes those plans are good and solid and then…wham! Rug under feet…gone!

Or it’s way more subtle, like a flick to the side of the head.

Like this morning.

I prepared a What’s In My Cup review. I steeped the tea, sampled the tea, arranged the photo and wrote my thoughts. And then…flick…did you check to see if it’s still available? A review is all good and lovely, but if it’s not available, I feel like I’m playing with a laser pointer and kittens. It’s all fun and games, for me, until the red dot disappears. How bereft are those kittens when the joy and anticipation are dashed as the light goes out.

OK, I’m probably exaggerating! But in a world where disappointments abound, from covid restrictions to frighteningly truthful bathroom scales, I don’t want to “pile on”. But…

Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.

Charles R. Swindoll

So instead of a review for Orange Chocolate Mousse Tea, which is no longer available (and was lacking in the chocolate department, in my opinion anyway), I’m reacting by sharing this honest story about my Monday morning brain fart before making another cup of tea to go! I have groceries to pick up before I really settle in to sew!

I’ll also post my photo because, in the spirit of honesty, snapping pretty “tea photos” is a lot harder than it looks! It may look simple, but it simply takes a lot of effort to make it look simple.

And it’s prettier to look at than gray skies and more snow… Have a Happy Monday! 🙂

***

Wanna have your favourite tea and tea cup featured on Jenns Midlife Crisis,? Just send me your thoughts and/pic, and I’ll post on the last Monday of the month! Is there a special memory associated with it? Or is it just plain “good”? Don’t worry about being wordy or making it look “pretty” …just tell me why you like it. We’re all friends here! 😉

Dear Quarantine Diary – Year 3/Week 3

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, faith, family, humour

Dear Diary – My bathroom scales played a mean trick on me. I stepped on the scales today and it said I’d lost 6 lbs. I knew that wasn’t right; my jeans said so!! When I tried again, it said I weighed 98 lbs. I know that’s not right. The third attempt put me at my pre-Christmas number. Sold! I wasn’t trying a fourth time!

Cremation is my last hope for a smoking hot body.

Unknown

Dear Diary – We started the work week with a huge dump of the white stuff. And it wasn’t the dandruff kind. Hubby changed his plans to head to the office, and instead, headed outside to start blowing snow. He got most of the way before the battery ran out. Within half an hour, you couldn’t tell he’d been out.

I was just settling down with my Bible and my tea, when I noticed the lady across the street, hustling up her drive-way. She grabbed a shovel and headed down the street. Where was her car? So I tossed on some clothes and headed out to see if I could help. I expected to find her car stuck on the unplowed street at the corner. Instead, it was a couple blocks away. I debated about whether to keep going or not. I was already breaking a sweat as I stumbled along the road in the heavy snow in the ruts carved by brave drivers. The sidewalks were knee-deep and it was only 9 a.m. But I also felt alittle invigorated, like an intrepid frontierswoman, braving the elements. I was more than halfway to my stranded neighbours, when they got in their car and drove off. My mission of mercy was meh!

By the time I got back home, Hubby was getting ready to send out a search party. I topped up the bird feeder and warmed up with some hot chocolate.

And a really BIG marshmallow!

There was a air of community by evening as people emerged from their houses up and down the street, to start diggin their way out. The worst was over and the skies were clearing.

Even the birds had some work to do…

The next morning, the snowplow came by…and dumped a 4′ wide swath of knee-deep snow across the bottom of the driveway. It had rolled in places into balls, perfect for snowmen heads. That air of community was still there…with several men out clearing their homesteads. They all watched me, but none of them offered to help this little lady. After 45 minutes of slogging, I had 4 tracks cleared for our car and the neighbour’s car, and I called it a day! I’ll be feeling it until next May.

All in all, between 40-60 cm fell in one day, closing down highways and schools (except we now have virtual school so that sucked!!)!

Dear Diary – My days haven’t been all work and no play. I finally tried out my new textured rolling pin. I made shortbread cookies but I think regular sugar cookies would be better. The pattern melted off the shortbreads.

I failed at caramelizing onions in the oven but cooked perfect T-bone steaks!

I made a big pot of tasty carrot soup completely from scratch, but lost some of it when my food processor leaked. It was probably time to wash the kitchen floor again anyway…

And I consulted for Hubby when he attempted Mary Berg’s omelette-soufflé. Light as a cloud!

Dear Diary – It was way overdue. My hair was a disgusting washed out green colour, so I took the time to colour my hair. This time I didn’t get any on the sink, but I have 2 blue finger nails. Speaking of blue, last November, Eldest Son and I went together on an order for temporary tattoos. They’re just like the sticker kinds kids would get in a Happy Meal, only instead of a picture, it’s plant-based ink. It darkens over 48 hours from neon green, to navy blue, to black. I can feel like a rock star without the hangover or the regrets..for the next 1-3 weeks.

Dear Diary – Hubby shocked me by agreeing to watch one of my favourite movies, You’ve Got Mail. I love the quirky banter between Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, and of course, the happy ending. They fit together like pancakes and maple syrup. I always laugh at the delicate jab at fancy coffee drinkers, and the quote about daring:

You are daring to imagine that you could have a different life. Oh, I know it doesn’t feel like that. You feel like a big fat failure now. But you’re not. You are marching into the unknown armed with…nothing.

Birdie Conrad

It kind of sums up my life. I keep daring to imagine a different life, yet never seem to get anywhere, and consequently, feel like a failure. I know I’m not. I know we are not all destined for “great” things, and really, who gets to decide what is “great”? . Couldn’t raising children to be respectful, fully-functioned adults who contribute to society, be “great”? Couldn’t taking the time to talk to someone who is grieving or discouraged, be “great”? Depending on the definition, we ALL do something “great” for someone. I believe God is in control of my “destiny”, and while that destiny means I may never walk a red carpet or win a Nobel prize, it doesn’t mean I can’t stop marching into the unknown. Uphill. All the way.

If I cannot do great things, I can do small things in a great way.

Jodi Picoult, Small Great Things 

Dear Quarantine Diary- Year 3 / Week 2

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, humour

Dear Diary – Who says New Years resolutions begin at midnight on Day 1? Like so many other idiots dreamers, I also planned to lose weight, get more exercise, eat better, etc. Instead, this lactose intolerant gal started the year with hot tea, cold wine, cheese, and chocolate. It was an auspicious beginning.

As for exercise, I forgot my only Fitbit charger at my folks so there’s even less incentive…

And the battery is dying.

I nearly didn’t make it to midnight, having stayed up way past my bedtime the night before watching Alien, with my boys. Nothing says “sweet dreams” like suspense and blood-thirsty monsters right before bed!

We had our traditional pizza and game, but at Auntie M’s, since she wasn’t anxious to wipeout on the ice again. We were home by 11 for the annual family photo, more snacks, and the chinking of glasses at midnight. Also the “thunk” of J’s (aka Big Guy) chocolate orange against the doorframe. With his girlfriend losing her Dad to covid, and her Mom only just home from hospital, they thought it best to postpone celebrating for a few weeks. J went home on January 2 – we managed to finish our Harry Potter marathon just in time!

Hubby, however, started the year in quarantine. He went home on Boxing Day, and delivered gifts to his brother’s house. I suggested he drop them outside but he didn’t listen. His brother called two days later to say he tested positive. We stayed the extra week, and Hubby’s precautions meant he tested negative.

Staying longer turned out to be a good thing for two reasons. One, I easily booked and got my covid booster shot (when my Mommy could take care of me). Second, Hubby was fighting with the phone company.

We lose our phone and internet every time it gets damp…so every spring, winter, and Fall. They were booked for Jan. 2 but no one showed. Hubby got a text on Jan 3 that the “tech is on his way” so he tore home from work. No one showed and Monday night he got a text that it was fixed. It was not! On Jan 4, he called and the system said the ticket was closed. He booked another appointment for Jan 6, but remembered, immediately after hanging up, that he was getting his covid booster that day. He re-booked for Jan 7. On Jan 6, a tech showed up and “fixed it”. The tech found an unmarked box around the corner that was hanging wide open, with all the wires exposed and corroding. We’re now holding our breath….

On Jan 8, M. and I packed our things and made the sad trek home to dirty laundry, dust, and distant memories of Christmas.

Dear Diary – My new bra arrived and it’s more like body armour. It’s white, with hooks in the back, a zipper in the front, and criss-cross straps. It kinda’ reminds me of Austin Power’s bikini top, but less feminine (and disturbing)…

Almost as disturbing as Hubby playing with the packaging.

My first mistake was adjusting the straps and then trying to put it on like a regular bra. I nearly smothered. The straps were too short; the massive cups glued to my face. Next, I put the straps back where they started and put it on like a vest. I nearly threw out my back wrestling the criss-cross straps. Finally, I tried zipping up the front, but I couldn’t see if the zipper was in the notch. All I could see was the white pillowy mounds of my sizeable “melons”. On the plus side, once it’s on, I could go jogging and not worry about putting an eye out.

I purchased this garment on the internet at half the cost of what I normally pay for a bra. But I think the money I saved will probably go toward the chocolate I will eat when my self-esteem sinks as low as my knockers.

Dear Diary – I went for a bone scan this week and I felt like I was in a 3D printer. It’s a device that would certainly make it easier for the body snatchers to duplicate people, though some of us would require more filament to do so!

When I called, I was asked if I could come in an hour. They had a cancellation. So I hit the showers and ran out the door. But when I got there, I wasn’t scheduled. I stood patiently while the receptionist clicked a lot on her keyboard (probably messaging her friend about this loser who showed up thinking she got a last-minute appointment), then made a phone call in hushed tones. I offered to book another time and come again, but she said not to worry. So I tried not to worry, as various people wandered in and out of the waiting room. At least one of them had not hit the showers first.

I was told to take a seat – it wouldn’t be long. And for once, it was true. I was in and out in less than half an hour from my original appointment time. As a bonus, I came home to a hot lunch made by M. Mmm…kraft dinner!

Dear Diary – Should I write a song about my sewing machine? Then I could say I’m a singer songwriter, or sew it seams…

I recently wrote a song based on the list of Top 10 Phrases to Banish in 2022:

At the end of the day“ is a phrase that’s getting old
“That being said“ is simply no longer gold (wait, what?)
Social distance, remote learning, ‘Hey buddy, are you vaxxed?’
“I made stuff” just needs to be axed.

”Circle back” and “dive deep” both need to end
I don’t know what they mean, just ”asking for a friend”
(”Don’t be such a Karen!)
“Contact tracing” and “zooming”, ‘Hey Dude, you’re on mute”
“T.P. Crisis”, “supply chain”, “ no worries” is a beaut!

When does the “ new normal” cease to be “new”
It’s been almost 2 years since covid first sailed thru
(“We’re in this together”)
“Now more than ever”, I think we all agree
There’ll be a much longer list by 2023!

Dear Quarantine Diary: Year in Review (2021)

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, humour, New Year's

Dear Diary – Midnight arrived and some of us cheered. Others chose to go to bed early. Because after all, it didn’t feel like there was a lot worth celebrating in 2021. It was a tough year, filled with moments of intense loneliness, frustration, anger and grief. I felt it too. But often, when I felt overwhelmed, God’s graciously reminded me that He is in control and He is still at work. In those times, He filled me with enough joy and hope to smile and soldier on. Sometimes, I even laughed. Out loud. From my toes. Not usually when I was standing on the bathroom scales or offering my family burnt offerings, but still…He supplied more than I needed and I am thankful.

My holiday got extended because Hubby came in contact with someone who called two days later to say “hey! guess what? I’m positive with covid”. So I got my booster shot yesterday. I feel crummy today. Good thing I spent the whole dreary afternoon on Sunday re-reading diary posts because I’m not up to catching up this week. Not that much has happened. I meant to just review the Monday What’s In My Cup segments, but I kept reading. I was amazed at just how much laughter and silliness there can be in a year, even if it didn’t always feel like it at the time…

In January, having spent Christmas apart from my folks, I rang in the New Year with pizza and white wine. By mid-January, the province had declared a state of emergency. I was having my own emergencies at home. I started shopping online for fabric and food. My “sewing business” slowed down, and so did the 50 year old sewing machine! On the phone with my Dad, he talked me through how to take it apart. I felt like I was defusing a bomb. Then my last needle broke. So did my patience. I baked macarons which were an epic failure. Crispy portughese custard tarts and unicorn poop soon followed. On the plus side, my sanctuary was coming together. I was going to need it!

In February, I talked some Facebook Friends into joining my revolution and we declared February 12 “PJ
Day”. We shared our photos.

Cheers!

I attempted to make pillow covers, which was an assortment of trials, error, and tears. For Valentine’s Day, Big Guy suprised us with drinks and cookies from Tim Horton’s. I made pastitio for dinner, with a bechamel sauce that refused to thicken. It tasted good anyway. I also tied myself in knots making pretzels. I cleaned the bathroom cupboard under the sink and discovered 5 bottles of men’s body wash. I’ve been smelling like spruce and pine trees ever since. My friend died of cancer, and made a bleak month stretch longer.

It was time to smarten up in March and I began preparing healthier food: eggplant parmigiana (which I hated), chicken pie (the pastry was sooo good) and a pumpkin spice roll (is pumpkin a fruit or a vegetable?).

My hobbies include eating and complaining that I’m fat!

I stopped putting off that tooth that had been complaining and went to the dentist. I had the best laugh when he asked me if I was stressed. He fit me with a mouth guard. I’m still “…afraid of choking and drowning on my spit in my sleep. When I said I wanted to die peacefully in my sleep, this isn’t quite what I had in mind”. Hubby was the first to brave a covid test. He was negative and for the first time in a very, very long time, he could smell his coffee. I participated in Evil Squirrel’s 8th contest of whatever but I didn’t win. And I got shot, a cortisone shot, that is. I spoke too soon when I said, “that wasn’t so bad”!

I started physio torture therapy in April just as the province issued a stay-at-home order, essentially “cancelling” Easter. Bur miracles still happened: Hubby let me help him purge his closet. I baked hot cross buns, a tear-away cake shaped like an ice-cream sundae, mini chocolate swiss rolls, and a pretty, but tasteless purple birthday cake. Big Guy helped me celebrate with an ubered “breakfast in bed” from Cora’s. With stress already running high as people panicked to book vaccinations, everything going wrong in a 27 hour stretch almost pushed me over the edge. Good thing I started an 8 week comedy course online to help me cope. I wrote my first song, Queen of the Latrine, which seemed to be a big hit.

I finally got shot on Mother’s Day! Gatherings were still limited to 10 people but I was fine. I worked on 3 original songs: Teen from the Batcave, The Gamer Song, and In Too Deep. Spring had sprung and I took lots of time to wander my backyard enjoying lilacs, tulips, and apple blossoms. I managed to plant seeds despite our back door being patrolled by a stubborn carpenter bee.

June started with snow. Patios opened and restrictions lifted, and people were people: “restless, housebound natives behaved like teenagers when Mom and Dad are away, and partied hard with their friends”. I googled how to deal with bad hair. One suggestion was to wear a low cut blouse. Big Guy ubered McDonald’s for Father’s Day, and we celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary at the end of the month with Italian food, and a unique photo session with Little Guy. We dressed up and posed with Halo reproduction guns, zombie axes, and face masks. Why? Because 25 years without killing each other was worth celebrating. And we couldn’t go to Italy.

I got shot again on July 1st – Canada Day. I had a greater reaction and lost a day. My basil was finally growing and it was really happy. Little Guy and I spent some time at my parents. On morning, we woke up to jet engine in the back yard and a giant blue fireball. They were venting gas line for repairs. The busiest week was Vacation Bible Camp, where I spent 5 mornings out of bed before 7 and taught kids in character. That character was Ima Victor, a spunky, nerdy, spastic eight-year old with a serious lisp. It was exhilerating and exhausting!

August brought my baby home after months apart. Big Guy helped me purchase a new xbox controller to improve Halo Night. While he was visiting, I accidentally thawed (and consequently had to cook) 24 burgers. I didn’t enjoy it. I got my first hair cut in almost 2 years. I celebrated Mom’s birthday with lunch at O’Connor House, and I baked a lemon cake. Little Guy and I fought with bugs in the evenings, and I fought with a “simple” japanese knot bag pattern during the day. I shared a magical evening watching the
meteor shower with Little Guy.

September started a week holiday at my parents with the boys. We played games, had a water fight (that ended badly) and a haunted walk. Big Guy taught Little Guy how to climb trees, and I accidentally flashed a trucker grocery shopping. One evening we drove around town looking at houses for sale. It’s fun to dream. I savoured homegrown watermelon and made homemade salsa. My alarm clock went psycho, and we finally got some sewer issues repaired. They aren’t all fixed…I’m still queen of the latrine.

I should know by now that nothing is simple but crap doodle, I keep hoping!

Jenn, jennsmidlifecrisis

Thanksgiving was celebrated with my folks but only 1 boy. We got stuck in traffic coming home, but I managed to “hold it” until we got to the service centre…where I had to go looking for service in Tim Horton’s. I baked a lentil pie and visited 2 friends in the garden. It was good for the soul…the visits, not the pie! As an old dog, I’m still required to learn new tricks and this month included setting up and using a new worship tracks app. It was terrifying. I also went shopping for glasses for Hubby and was totally ignored by the female staff. Some thing never change!

I spent a week with Mom while Dad was hunting and it was some firsts for me: first time in a Mall since the world shut down and the first meal in a restaurant. Fortunately my “covid passport” worked! I baked
pumpkin pecan muffins that were so greasy, they almost slipped out of our hands. I also baked louisiana hand pies and white bean and leek stew. I spoke to a group of ladies, something I have missed. Purolator also missed, delivering my package to the wrong house and starting a whole mess for me to sort out. I enjoyed an impromptu visit with my parents in my sanctuary. They were delivering Little Guy’s birthday. He insists that I give him a new name here.

Finally December arrived and I dove into Christmas preparations: shopping, wrapping, and baking. In addition to the usual squares and cookies, I tried hazelnut toffee, chocolate babka, German stollen, and a yule log. I also fought with squirrels at the feeder and gnomes. Best of all, I made it home for Christmas, where I will spend the first week of January because Hubby was in contact with someone who, two days later, called to say he was positive with covid. Happy New Year!

My “word” for 2020 was “finish line“. In 2021 I embraced “Be Faithful” because no matter what was happening in my world, I was still responsible for what was happening in my heart. I’m not sure what my “word” will be for 2022, but I’m sensing that I need to lean into “joy”. Joy is more than laughter or warm fuzzy feelings. It goes beyond feeling happy, excited or content. It isn’t based on my circumstances or my actions, but is a gracious gift and a lasting state of the heart and mind that overflows from my Heavenly Father. I believe my joy in Him will be my strength.

Let Year 3 begin…after my nap!

Dear Quaratine Diary – Week #52

Tags

Christmas, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, food, holiday, humour

Dear Diary – The raging inferno of my dying youth has been wreaking havoc for weeks, so on Christmas Eve, I wore my ugly Christmas t-shirt. Just the thought of an ugly Christmas sweater made me break out in sweat.

So did baking pie. I baked a green tomato pie using green tomatoes that were stored in my parents’ freezer. The foil on the top said “Happy Thanksgiving 2020!” I soaked the raisins in rum, which sparked a series of “Jenn’s in the rum” jokes.

And I alarmed Youngest Son when I passed him in the living room and shared that “I’m done decorating Dad’s log”. What I meant was that I was finished decorating his birthday cake, a yule log cake, but you can imagine the terrible mental image I painted for him.

Hubby and Big Guy arrived in time for dinner. It was a slow drive because Hubby’s car was making rude noises on the highway, and he had to take the “scenic route”. I could finally tuck in for a long winter nap with my favourite peeps.

With no little ones in the house we slept in and took the morning slow. I broke out my first German stollen.

https://www.daringgourmet.com/stollen-german-christmas-bread/

We opened gifts and I finally got to see what this was:

We exchanged gifts before lunch, which included silly socks, goofy t-shirts, even a whopee cushion…because the joke never gets old. I could finally give Auntie M her new gnome; I was having too much fun with it.

Gnome-gnomes

Up to gnome good!

Hanging with my gnomies

Don’t worry – Auntie M’s gnome was quarantined prior to the holidays and properly masked with a handmade, blue tissue-paper mask.

Even though we thought we’d never need to eat again, the dinner hour arrived. With leftovers laid out, one by one, we fixed a plate and enjoyed round #2. We also enjoyed a rousing game of Scattergories, which was particularly hilarious with our tryptophan-induced brains.

The day ended with a bang! I asked had asked Eldest Son to help Auntie M take her things to car, then I went in my room to put on my fuzzy jammies. Nice Mama! It had been raining all day but we didn’t realize how much it had iced over. I heard the crash from the far side of the house and I knew it was bad. Both Auntie M and Eldest Son had fallen, but Auntie M wasn’t getting up. Dad is a retired firefighter and we let him take the lead. I called 911 and we paced inside, while Eldest Son and Dad kept Auntie M company and scraped ice off cars and the sidewalk. When they went to move her vehicle so ambulance could park closer, the doors were frozen shut. They also wandered carefully, with flashlights, looking for her car keys, her purse, and the crockpot lid, which all went flying! Thankfully, the hospital wasn’t busy and Auntie M was not seriously injured. She was sent home at midnight. Dad and Eldest Son made sure Auntie M and her pumpkin car, made it home. She’s badly bruised, and in no hurry to get back out there! I wonder if she’s working on the evil puzzle I gave her…

The rest of the week has been spent sleeping in, watching Harry Potter movies, and eating non-stop. We’ve also played board games. Mom got upset when she spotted someone’s trains on “her” track. It was her train. Eldest Son was given a couple of genuine Guiness and the closest thing we could find for a proper drinking vessel was a flower vase. Boxing Night, we watched Christmas Vacation, my all-time favourite Christmas movie. Right up there with…Die Hard!

These guys really like Cousin Eddie

I also had one final sewing project to complete by the end of the year, which should have been easy peasy. Instead, it took several hours because I’m so talented. I sewed things in wrong and had to rip them out over and over. I spilled warm tea all over the table, and me! Then, with only 1.5 inches left to sew, the machine started to grab and snarl, and make a right mess of it. After multiple stitching and ripping, and with more holes in the fabric than on a tattoo artist, my Dad took the machine apart. Back together again, and with the end so close I could taste it, I started to sew, hit a pin, and snapped the needle.

I finished the bag the next day!

It’s hard to believe that a New Year is right around the corner. I’m not sure yet if we’ll be ringing it in with Eldest Son’s traditional crack of his Terry’s chocolate orange. His girlfriend’s father passed away suddenly from covid; her mother was released from hospital earlier this week. He may be heading home to spend some time with her. If she had called him on Christmas Day and asked him to come, I would have given him my blessing. While there is no better place than with my family around me, I’m well aware that we’re all growing up, and I never want to be an obstacle in my children’s lives. I just pray they’ll still share a slice of their life with me. Afterall, they were once my whole world.

When we took this photo December 31, 2019, I had just quit my job. I had spent November coping with kitchen renovations and December baking up a storm. Youngest Son was facing his Grade 9 first semesters finals, the only ones he’s written to date. Eldest Son was preparing for a career-advancing exam. And my folks were planning their annual trip to Myrtle Beach. We had no idea what was to come…

I still somehow feel like we’ve lost time, 2 years to be exact. As if we have all been hibernating and it’s time for new beginnings and greater adventures. I feel like we should be celebrating the start of 2020, not 2022.

Like we deserve a do-over.

Don’t we? It’s time to re-engage with the great big world beyond our front doors, even if that engagement is a phone call, an email, a handwritten letter. I’m not suggesting we disobey the rules or take unnecessary risks. I never want to put others in harm’s way, but our souls don’t belong to a virus. We can’t let covid hold us hostage any longer. It’s time to resdiscover joy. One day at a time.

Happy New Year! See you in 2022!

The joy of the Lord is your strength

Nehemiah 8:10

Wilderness Wednesday: Squirrel Cogitation

Tags

humour, nature, photography, squirrel, squirrels, Wilderness Wednesday

In between snacks, meals, and pots of tea, we’re enjoying the antics of these guys. Dad has 2 bird feeders, strategically placed to feed the birds, not the squirrels. One day they’ll figure it out, I’m sure, but for now they pace on the railing, and occasionally try to climb. But mostly, they stare at the house and scold us savagely with their frustrations and opinions on the matter.

In retribution, I smile sweetly, while nibbling on homemade hazelnut toffee. 😉

Not much goes on in the mind of a squirrel. Huge portions of what is loosely termed “the squirrel brain” are given over to one thought: food.

The average squirrel cogitation goes something like this: I wonder what there is to eat.

Kate DiCamillo, Flora & Ulysses: The Illuminated Adventures

Dear Quaratine Diary – Week#51

Tags

Christmas, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, holiday, humour

Dear Diary – It’s Christmas Eve Day Eve Day, and I am home!

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t the house where I grew up! It doesn’t matter that the cookies never got decorated, or that my hair didn’t get dyed, or that my Christmas skirt may not even fit. All that matters is that this year I’m truly in the one place in the world where I most want to be, and in one more sleep, I’ll be with most of the people I treasure.

I know I am blessed.

I know it will not always be this way.

But today, I am here and I will live in today. The present is a gift.

The week has been a blur of activity – finishing gifts, making sponge toffee, and Hubby’s birthday cake. He’s a Christmas Eve baby! Last Saturday I leaned into my German roots and attempted stollen. I even soaked my fruit in spiced rum.

On Monday, Hubby and I watched the Love Nature channel. It’s not really our thing but it’s on free preview and the videography is amazing. In the ad for their channel, they talk about how there are no sleepy Mondays on Love…I say they need to read the room! Sleepy Monday sounded good to me!

My mind has been humming at full tilt, somtimes overheating my body, and I have to step outside to cool off. It’s been keeping running lists of things to do and things to pack: baking, clothing, food, gifts, games and entertainment. Somehow I prepared meals in the chaos, and the pile of dirty dishes never ended. Amazing in a family of only 3.

My brain has been so scattered as a result, and I’ve made several stupid mistakes and extra trips up and down stairs. I posted Wilderness Wednesday a day early, and didn’t realize it until I was waiting in the Tim Horton’s drive-thru at 1 in the afternoon, between a chiropractor appointment and a grocery/gift delivry to a friend. There was no time to stay for tea, hence the Tim’s delivery too. I had to make a last-minute trip for fabric – both for a post-Christmas order for a knot bag and in case everything shuts down again. A very real possibility, so I purchased enough fabric, on faith that I would make some sales, for January projects. No one corrected me to say I was a day early, which I appreciated! 🙂

It turned out I wasn’t the only one confused on days because they had too much going on. Mom read my Monday blog on Tuesday, and thought it was Tuesday all day, and couldn’t figure out why I kept saying I might be coming the next day because didn’t I have an appointment?

My travel plans were precarious, even without the ever-threatening covid restrictions. I had planned to travel on Wednesday, but it was supposed to be a blizzard with high winds. If it was, I’d leave Thursday. But the forecast kept changing, with heavy winds Wednesday afternoon and snow on Thursday. So I dragged Younger Son from his sweet slumber and we ran a marathon to get on the road. He even remembered to grab granola bars because we’re not making any pit-stops on the way. He even brought the chocolate kind I like.

It was sunshine all the way!

Christmas road trips are always accompanied by two favourite Christmas cds: John Denver & the Muppets, and The Arrogant Worms. Even last year when the road trip was only halfway home to trade gifts and goodies with my parents because we couldn’t be together.

Dad looks less like Santa Claus this year!

But Younger Son’s tastes in music has changed over the years and he actually prefers silence. I can’t drive in silence, especially for over 2 hours. Normally he doesn’t sleep either but since he’d run a marathon before noon, half an hour into our trip, his head started to bob. I waited patiently until he was “out”, and I slipped in The Muppets first. My uncle H was a fun & fantastic guy, and we’ve missed him for years. I can remember him taking my brother and me to the city to see the first Muppet movie in the theatre. I was 6. He introduced us to this cd, singing alongside, and excitedly telling us to “listen” just before the funny parts. I still listen closely for the “funny” parts!

The other cd has unusual Christmas songs in several genres of music, that also make me smile, like Vincent the Christmas Virus (5 year old Younger Son thought Vincent was a Christmas Pirate) or Daddy Threw Up On Christmas Day. Or the song about Santa getting arrested, the Christmas Fruit Brick, and Santa singing the blues because:

I use to be jolly, now I’m depressed
Had a twinkle in my eye, now I’ve got a bullet proof vest
Cuz if the pace don’t kill me, some gun totting yahoo will
They keep shooting at me like I’m some sort of big fat red criminal

Got the Christmas blues, I’m starting to see
That I gotta be some sort of loser to get paid in milk and cookies

I’ve already listened to Bing Crosby dreaming of a White Christmas, which is better than listening to George Michael crooning about his bad taste in partners when he gave his heart away at Christmas. He’s planning to do it again this year.

So I’ve stitched the last handmade gift and all the gifts are under the tree. The goodies are mostly in the freezer, out of reach. I’ll thaw Hubby’s birthday cake and turn it into a yule log tomorrow. I’ll also thaw my green tomato pie filling, for tomorrow. I can’t snack on either one. I’m also the queen of Mom’s latrine!

After an exciting game of Play 9 (I won!), we settled in last night for another winter slumber. A large moon, nearly full, climbed into a clear sky and rested over a tall pine. Moonbeams glinted off the icicles over the kitchen window, and bathed the fields in white. I stepped out on the deck, in my slipper socks, snow crunching under foot. The sky was so clear, I could see the milky way, and I listened to the silence.

Was it this clear and this quiet on that first Christmas?

While the Town of Bethlehem slept, the moon witnessed the greatest gift coming to earth in the smallest and less likely packagae of all – a baby. Immanuel – God With Us.

Was it this clear and quiet on the first Christmas as the moon shone on plain and lowly shepherds watch their little lambs sleeping. They were unaware that they were about to step into the pages of history as the first to hear the heavenly announcement. Christ is Born.

Was it this clear and quiet on the first Christmas when wise and learned men spotted a star in the sky, heralding the birth of the King of kings, and began their long journey to worship at His feet? The Hope for all the Nations.

‘Cause how many kings stepped down from their thrones?
How many lords have abandoned their homes?
How many greats have become the least for me?
And how many Gods have poured out their hearts
To romance a world that is torn all apart?
How many Fathers gave up their Sons for me?

Only one did for me.

Downhere, How Many Kings

Merry Christmas!

Dear Quarantine Diary- Week #50

Tags

baking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, food, hope, humour

Dear Diary – Last week, I took my friend up north to get her covid booster shot. It felt like a quest since it was after dark and during rush hour. Rush hour in the city is always an adventure. Strangely, we toodled our way to the place without incident, and she happily “suited up” and headed in a happy camper.

She was not a happy camper when she got back to the car half an hour later.The system said she was one day short of being eligible for her booster,even though she was already past the recommended timeline.

We had to go north again a few days later and now the deed is done. But a government-based health care system that doesn’t work properly? There’s a shocker!

Dear Diary – Once again, our Christmas plans are on hold as covid numbers climb and a new variant threatens to hold us hostage in our homes. Already my parents’ area has been put under restrictions, which means our small family gathering of seven people is too many people. It’s disappointing, but I’m trying to keep things in perspective.

We had a wind storm Saturday evening which knocked out our power. You know you’ve been married awhile, when the house is void of candles, and the only ones I could find refused to stay lit without a lot of personal attention. I tried to stay calm. I had dragged my keester out of bed early to make my babka dough, which had been proving in the fridge for the last 6 hours, and needed to be baked in 2 hours. I would require more than a needy candle to make the chocolate spread and bake the loaves. But I knew if I couldn’t, if I sat in the dark for hours, it wasn’t the worst thing. My families were safe in their homes, and we were already immeasurably blessed. I had no idea that so many families south of the border were literally having their lives torn apart.

I always struggle a little at Christmas. I know so many who are facing their first Christmas missing someone they love. I know a family facing their last with someone they love. I see lonely, hurting people, and a dark and broken world, and I sometimes feel like I could be crushed under the weight of it. But it isn’t my pain alone to bear.

On Sunday, the pastor talked about hope. Hope is something that is built in all us. It is the anticipation of or confidence in a favourable outcome in a situation. But sometimes we are disappointed because we don’t get what we hoped for or we find ourselves in a place we didn’t expect to be. But the Creator who built hope in us also gave us a reason to hope in the form of a beautiful baby.

Jesus is the voice that whispers hope in our dark times. He came and died on our behalf so that we could have hope in every situation. When we believe in Him and give Him our hearts, we can live without being crushed by hopelessness.

I know that He is the only One in whom I can place my confidence. It won’t preclude me from anxious or fearful times, but I can trust that He will provide all that is needed to walk through those times. I can trust that He will comfort those who are hurting this season, and will produce wholeness and beauty in their lives through their experiences. Our current pain is temporary. Jesus’ death on the cross makes it possible for us to one day enter Heaven, where pain no longer exists. Hope, joy, love, peace – all these things are possible in Jesus even in the midst of suffering.

So I’m taking this jumbled package of hurts and needs to Him. Christmas may not look the same this year. For some, it may never look the same. So I’m asking Him to pour out His grace around each of our homes, however we are gathering. And I’m asking Him to whisper “hope”.

And dear diary, the power came on in time, and the chocolate babka was saved.

Dear Diary – Yesterday, Hubby went to the office, giving me a rare day to myself and I wasted it playing video games. I got my flu shot and felt too crummy to tackle cookies and candies. I’m only halfway through my adventourous baking wish list and running out of time. The house is a disaster and I don’t know if I’m hosting Christmas Day. But I needed a “day off”.

Today is Hubby’s official first day of Christmas vacation. He started it by drinking coffee and watching ridiculousness on t.v. What on earth am I going to do with him for the next 2 weeks?

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week#49

Tags

baking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, food, holiday, humour, nature, photography, squirrels

Dear Diary – It’s hard to believe that a year ago, we were preparing for the holidays with the threat of lockdowns over our heads, as the numbers of covid cases rose alarmingly. I spent my first Christmas away from my parents in almost 50 years. We met in the parking lot halfway between our homes for 5 minutes, long enough to swap gifts, snap a pic and wave. I dashed through a grocery store to buy last minute groceries, and I bought a turkey from a friend who had an extra one.

With optimism, we were told it would all be over by next Christmas if we all pulled together. Some of us never stopped pulling. At least I can say:

Dear Diary – Is cheese on apple pie really weird? I know that green tomato pie grosses a lot of people out, but it’s a long-standing tradition on my Dad’s side. Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it! I also grew up with cold cheddar cheese on warm apple pie, not the processed kind (that’s gross), but a thick slab of aged cheddar. The only other options were whipped cream or ice-cream.

I had no idea that cheese on pie could be as polorizing as pineapple on pizza. The idea started in England in the early 17th century, with diary-based sauces in pies, which transitioned to on pies. Poet, Eugene Field wrote, “But I, when I undress me / Each night, upon my knees / Will ask the Lord to bless me / With apple pie and cheese.” Mr. Field experienced apple pie differently than us. Apples just weren’t as sweet then, as they are today. Red delicious apples didn’t appear until 2 centuries later, and with the lack of refrigeration, ice-cream was out of the question. Cheese offered a salty addition to a rather bland fruit pie. The trend travelled across the pond and is more common in farming communities, where cheese is produced, than in cities, where ice-cream is king. What’s your preference?

An apple pie without the cheese is like a kiss without the squeeze.

Dear Diary – An old Facebook Memory from December 2016 came up in my feed:

“Told I look “creepy” in my nightshirt by my child. Considering walking child to the school door wearing nightshirt. Now that would be creepy.”

Dear Diary – It’s toffee time! Armed with my very specific list, I braved the bulk food store for my Christmas baking ingredients, and chocolate hazelnut toffee was at the top of the list! The recipe came from an old Woman’s World magazine (such a sexiest title)!

The first step was to finely chop the hazelnuts, which proved to be a challenge because hazelnuts are round. Every time I tried to slice, and at risk to my fingers, the nut would ping off the counter. They were louder and larger than the bbs that went flying the weekend before, but that’s another story. Bottomline, they both hurt when you step on them, and they both like to roll under the stove. Someday I’ll clean under there and I’ll wonder why there are peas, hazelnuts and bbs.

Then I had a brilliant idea, that prompted me to tell my guys to keep their hands off my nuts: The Slap Chop! Creepy informercial pitchman Vince used to “wow” us in ads for a chopping machine that “slices and dices” food when you slap the plunger. Except that I’m too short to get much leverage. Hubby and Younger Son, who tower over me, had to step in.

They were only too happy to step in to sample too. I had to set the timer on the microwave to keep the wolves at bay until the chocolate had set…and even then some of the chocolate stuck to the counter when I turned it out. After complaining that I’m never in family photos, Hubby stepped in there too.

You didn’t seriously expect me to let good chocolate go to waste!

Dear Diary – Note to self: mini wheats as a last minute bed time snack is a poor choice because I can’t just hork it down in a hurry. It requires chewing, thorough chewing or I choke on the “sticks”. It sticks in my teeth and around the gumline so brushing is “extra special”. And this time, the milk…something was off with that milk. Better to stick with something healthy and sensible…like fruit, with chocolate.

Dear Diary – The Squirrel Games has intensified. Two weeks ago, Hubby had to make some adjustments to our bird feeder because a trio of black squirrels had found it and the leader of the pack is settling in nearby for the winter. He’s an adept trapeze artist. It’s not uncommon to catch him hanging under the feeder, and hunting with his forepaw for the goodies. I wouldn’t object to feeding the squirrels if they weren’t such pigs! But now that some birds have finally found the feeder, I want to enjoy them too. It may be closest I get to a pet since I live with Scrooge.

Older Son offered some firepower, but long story short, both of his parents failed to get it to work, and someone barely missed me, so the “toys” have been safely put away. I suspect sabotage…squirrel sabotage!

In a feeble attempt to discourage this rogue, Hubby nailed down some “scat cat” pads, plastic squares with spikes. The railing looks like something from Mad Max, but the birds don’t seem to mind. Neither does the squirrel, apparently.

Hubby decided we should take down the feeder and I was terribly discouraged. Maybe it’s the time of year, missing loved ones and knowing so many who are experiencing their first Christmas without someone, others, their last. Maybe it’s the knowledge that Younger Son will be leaving the nest soon, and can’t wait to “escape”! Maybe it’s the uncertainty of holiday plans as covid numbers rise and we just don’t know when, or if, we’ll be with family. Lately it feels like even the little things that give me pleasure keep being taken away. I just have to keep committing it all to the Lord. He knows my heart. And my squirrel!!

It snowed softly yesterday, and in between piles of dishes and cherry squares (that taste good but look like Mad Max baked them), I watched a number of little feathered friends visiting in the back. One little nuthatch especially caught my eye. He must have felt very safe there because he nestled down on the outer ledge of the feeder and watched the snow falling too.

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

Matthew 6:26 (NIV)

Dear Diary – I’m taking my friend on a quest north for her covid booster shot. Unfortunately, she’s booked in the middle of rush hour. I sense adventure, and not the “good” kind.

Reference: Cheese & Apple Pie