Dear Diary – It’s week 7 in 2022, and the number 7 is considered, in many cultures , the number of perfection, security, safety and rest. It’s a number that appears a lot. For example, there are 7 days in a week, 7 colours in a rainbow, 7 notes in a diatonic scale, 7 dwarves in Snow White, 7 Wonders of the World, and 7 stars in the Big Dipper. The tangram is a puzzle consisting of seven flat shapes, called tans. Nitrogen (N) has the atomic number 7. And in the Book of Revelation alone, it appears 54 times. I’m studying the book of Revelation right now and I’ve had to read all 22 chapters multiple times. Believe me, it’s in there a lot.
So I’m hoping, Dear Diary, that though there’s a lot of unrest in Canada at the moment, this week will truly be one of safety and rest.
Dear Diary – I have at least 12 hours of the Olympics to watch some day. I don’t have time to sit around in my pjs eating bon-bons, watching my “stories” everyday. I PVR’d the the figure skating because I used to figure skate. I also like to irritate my family when I point out, “I could do that”. Of course, I never attempted anything triple or quadruple and I can count the number of times I landed a double jump, on one hand. It was mostly a lot of falling and sliding over and over again. There were no helmets or knee pads!
I really wanted to be a ballerina but there was no dance school in my small town. My options were figure skating and highland dancing. I disappointed my grandmother when I chose figure skating. She thought it would be great if I danced and my brother learned to play the bagpipes. My brother…did not agree!
Most of the skaters in the club had committed mothers (a few of those mothers should have been committed), so they skated year round and participated in competitions father afield. I only skated during the winter months, which meant every year I was competing against girls who were younger and younger. It started to get awkward.
My Mom did her best. She “patiently” sewed my sewing costumes as skirts were mandatory, even for practice. While I sometimes coveted the heavily sequined dresses of my peers, I also appreciated her hard work. I felt pretty and I was proud to say, “My Mom made it”!
I hated figure 8s and I tolerated dance. The pairs dance that you see on t.v. is not the same as dance as I learned. Instead, they were standard dances, like a waltz or tango, that increased in difficulty with every level. I was fortunate to make friends with another girl and we became shadow dance partners. We would dance the same movements, parallel to one another, like a shadow. We were allowed to wear matching costumes, which my Mom helped put together.
As for my solo work, I rarely got to do my whole routine with the music before a competition. Instead, I did my best to work on my elements and stay out of certain people’s way. There were star skaters and if you crossed their path, they would lynch you.
My Mom missed my first competition and my Dad had to take me. I still have the note she left for me. Unlike the Olympics, We had to wait for all the skaters in my level to skate, and then wait for the list scores to be posted. My Dad treated me to a hot dog from the concession stand. I won my first silver medal.
The other mandatory thing I hated was the Club fundraiser – we had to work in groups to put on a show. One year, I skated to Rock Around the Clock; another, Dolly Parton’s 9-5. Mom had to make my costume for that too.
Dear Diary – I was supposed to make a special delivery last week but we postponed it because the weather dude predicted freezing rain. It turned out to be the most beautiful day so far this year! It was sunny and warm, not a cloud in the sky. The next delivery date was postponed as well, this time for snow. At least that time, weather dude was closer. It snowed, then rained, and snowed, then rained… We finally met after church in a Tim’s parking lot, but it was -20C so we didn’t get to visit. I’m hoping next time, it’s 20+!
Dear Diary – Saturday afternoon, Youngest Son came and hovered behind me. When I finally asked him, “can I help you?”, he asked “what’s for dinner?”. I probably should have asked him what he was making me. I replied, dismally, “frickin’ chickin’. Again”. He piped up, “Or…” as he dropped a Pizza Pizza gift card on my sewing, “we could use this”. He said it was because I had
complained commented earlier in the week that I was sick of chicken. Or, it could have been self-preservation since my passion for cooking has ebbed. Either way – Pizza! And I didn’t have to cook!
I read recipes the same way I read science fiction. I get to the end and think
“well, that’ not going to happen’!
Dear Diary – That inevitable holiday between Christmas and Easter has passed. Or should I say, the holiday between Christmas chocolate and Easter chocolate. The “day of love” lands in the middle of a month smothered in a thick, scratchy blanket of gray skies. It’s a month wherein the heavens can’t decide if it wants to rain or snow, so we get a mixture of snush. Sludgy trenches of slush and rippling pools soak through our heavy boots, unless it freezes. Then we skate and our knees and sizeable bottoms experience blunt force trauma in a most-inelegant way. Whoever thought that celebrating romance had to have been so blissfully enamoured that he or she didn’t notice the world around him or her. At least not here in Canada.
I have not been a fan for a long time, probably because I’ve been fraught with bad experiences. But it’s still a chance to bake
without with less guilt. It’s one day and chocolate goes on sale the very next day. I wore my traditional black and delivered chocolate cupcakes to a friend. We ordered Chinese food for dinner and I made raspberry mille feuille for dessert. My guys gave me chocolate – Youngest said wrote this charming note: To Mom, from your . I’m going to need to shop for XL pants, but I definitely felt the indigestion love.
Dear Diary – A number of Covid restrictions lifted today. Maybe that’s why we’re currently under a snowfall warning: high winds, heavy snow and freezing rain. Hurray!
Yesterday, to celebrate, I went shopping at Fabricland. Still hobbling with a sore ankle (from old age apparently), I took my friend with me. She proved extremely helpful. I passed her bolts for fabric and she took care of the carrying and walking to cut what I wanted. Bonus, it let me shop in peace without being shown things that I don’t want. I walked out of there (dragging one feet like Igor) with a bag full of goodies! And to my absolute delight, since I’m naming my Etsy store (some day) “Sassy Green Lemons”, I actually found Sassy Green Lemons:
Dear Diary – I learned a new word: dysania. It’s the chronic condition of finding it difficult to get out of bed in the morning. I like it!!
Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.
The 5 Stages of Waking Up