Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 38

Tags

baking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, food, humour, sewing, stupid people

Dear Diary – The People of Wal-Mart never fail to disappoint.

Last week, my friend and I witnessed a woman on her cell phone driving the in-store motorized cart off the premises. It was the slowest moving getaway.

Later as I waited in the car for my friend, I noticed an average looking guy with a wad of cash in his hand approaching people asking for money. He said he was homeless and needed to get a hotel room. Well, he made the mistake of approaching a well-dressed lady getting into a white SUV. She told him to “take a hike” and got in her car. So…the guy pushed her shopping cart behind her SUV and walked away.

When she stopped playing with her phone and started to back out, using a rear camera I’m guessing, she spotted the cart. She got out and like a true drunken sailor, screamed assaults at that man. I mean, she made a hardened biker look like a saint! She was hopping mad!

When she finished her tirade, she jerked the cart into the spot next to her, backed out and on her way by the man, she unleashed another tirade from the driver’s window.

As she was launching into her second tirade, not completely unjustified I might add as her vehicle could have been damaged by the cart parked behind it, I noticed that she had just vacated the parking spot reserved for parents of small children. AND, she left her grocery cart parked in the handicapped space.

When we finally left Walmart, a store employee was streaking across the parking lot, presumably to find the stolen motorized cart…

These are the People of Walmart, where we save money, shop smart…only at Wal-Mart!

People of Walmart (hilarious music video)

Dear Diary – This week has been Eat, Sleep and Sew, in preparation for a craft sale on Saturday. I’m really nervous about it and very thankful to have my parents to help with setting up and keeping me company. It’s not like I can abandon my “booth” every time I need to pee, and since set up starts at 8 a.m., you know I’ll need to caffeinate!

But I also worried about being around people. Sure, that covid thing, but it’s also that I’m an introvert and I don’t really like people. For the most part, lockdown was great for me! I was happy playing indoors by myself. If I saw the mailman once a week through the window, well that was enough social interaction. Of course, I was also blessed with my guys so I wasn’t ever truly alone. With the return to school and work, I am alone but so far, have found ways to keep myself busy. Now I’m going to have to spend 7 hours being pleasant to strangers… in the hopes that they buy my crap merchandise. I had such high hopes for my Etsy store because I prefer to play a fun and outgoing person in a virtual world!

Plus I need the cash for my fabric addiction.

But, since I store my wares in a box in the closet and not virtually, I gotta find some way to peddle sell my merch. Wish me luck!

Dear Diary – We broke into the second 12th of my 4.5 kg Toblerone bar last weekend. On Day 6…

…Hubby added it to his coffee. He said it was good, but the unmelted nuts at the bottom were alittle strange.

On Day 7…

Recipe

Oatmeal pancakes with Toblerone and a little maple syrup. It was really good and the silky milk chocolate of the Toblerone bar melted into a decadent pool while the sweet caramel nougat and crispy nuts added texture and richness.

Life is uncertain…eat dessert first.

Ernestine Ulmer

Dear Diary – Dad shared some of his sourdough started and I made my first batch of Cinnamon Raisin Sourdough Muffins using his recipe. Except that in true fashion, I screwed it up! I’ve had more than my fair share of baking disasters, and this was one of those times that I had to let intuition try to save the day.

This time it did!

I fed part of my starter the night before and left it in the lit oven overnight. It bubbled up magically. I followed the recipe perfectly until I realized I wasn’t supposed to dump the entire bowl of starter into my mix. Now I had at least 1 cup too much liquid…and nothing to return to my starter.

I added more flour and whispered a prayer.

The muffins were so moist they stuck to the paper, but they tasted pretty good.

I hesitated getting some starter because once you start, you can’t stop. Every other week you have to feed it and bake it or it dies. Now I’m stuck in a ruthless cycle and Hubby has informed me…he didn’t really like the muffins.

The bread it bakes is succulent and firm…it’s tang for days.

Charles Boyle, Brooklyn 99

Speaking of baking, gamemakers Ravensberger has come out with the official Great British Baking Show card game. It’s being marketed as a “fast-paced, family-friendly game” for 2-4 players, 10+ years old. It’s a race to be Star Baker! What will they come up with next?

On your mark, get set….BAKE!

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 37

Tags

back to school, chocolate, cooking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, first day of school, food, humour, school, shopping, Toblerone

Dear Diary –
What I said: I passed a dead possum on the side of the road today.
What Youngest Son said: Did it hurt?
If you don’t get it, think bathroom jokes….

This is what I live with…

Dear Diary – The first day of school passed more like a whimper than a bang, which I suppose is a good thing. This was the year that Youngest Son was going to be responsible to get himself up and to school, on time, by himself. It’s looong overdue.

But I’m a sucker.

And it’s a looong walk.

Especially in the rain.

So, while I’ve bit my tongue and paced internally instead of hollering to get a move on, I’ve still provided transportation in the mornings.

Even today when he was running late and my blood pressure was high.

Baby steps!

Less than impressed, Youngest Son’s schedule slots lunchtime at 10:10, which means by the time he walks home, he’s ready to eat the whole box of cheerios and it’s cousin, corn pops. Which also means that he’s not really eating dinner. One night he ate his veggies but not his meat. The next night he ate his meat but not his veggies. I suppose I should be happy because at least he’s getting a balanced diet.

I shudder to think what’s coming next. With co-op in periods 4 & 5, he’ll have 10 minutes to get to his work placement, wherever that may be. I’m hoping it’s online and he can steal into a corner in the library. Then I’ll only have to make one trip to the school per day…or eventually stick to the plan and not drive him at all.

Baby steps!

Dear Diary – I’m not sure why, but someone left a message on the wipe board on the fridge where I keep my grocery list. I’m not sure if it was intended for me…. “You’re not useless. You can still be used as a bad example”.

Another example of what I live with…

Dear Diary – With Youngest Son poised to leave for Uni next year, I think it’s important that Hubby and I start keep working on our relationship, so I suggested we start dating. We never really “dated” because we were poor students, and the first year of our relationship was long distance. We got to know each other slowly with in-person visits every 6 weeks or so, and snail mail. We labeled our return addresses with a nickname and the name of where we lived…I was Neurotic and he was Twit.

I probably started that.

Since Hubby is on vacation this week and even he can stand only so much t.v., he wanted to do something together. And since I have a Honey-Do list longer than both my arms, I suggested something we could do outside of our home: couch shopping!

Apparently couch shopping was more appealing than yet another episode of Forged in Fire or Engineering Dimensions. Or the rest of the Honey-Do list. Or perhaps, he’s sick of the ongoing conversation realized this is important to me.

We bought our current burlap sack couch when we bought our home 21 years ago. Neither of us liked it particularly, but we thought it would wear well…and mostly we could afford it. It was delivered the day we mvoed in. But I’m beyond ready for a change and I desperately want something comfortable where I can sit with my legs up! My ankle is perpetually swollen and the edge of the coffee table digs into the backs of my legs. We might even splurge on another chair or two so that when both kids are home, we’re not lined up, 4 on a couch, elbowing each other as we have a t.v. dinner. Especially when one of them is left-handed!

Shockingly, Hubby and I shared a lot of common likes and dislikes amongst the massive options. Neither of us wanted leather, corduroy, or royal blue velvet. We found a couple of options to sleep on and we can do it without declaring bankruptcy. It’s close though.

We celebrated with lunch at Cora’s and yes, I gave him credit for this to be a date. I even let him play his game on his phone (but only because I knew he’d probably need my help)! 🙂

Dear Diary – It’s been a few years since I made fresh pasta. I don’t know why I didn’t during covid, but that may have been because I was hoarding flour to bake brownies bread and later on, I stopped caring. Whatever the reason, Hubby asked and I like making him happy. I made the pasta; he made the sauce. It was a match made in Heaven. The sauce and the pasta. Us? There have been days…

Dear Diary – I’m not kidding. I won a 4.5kg Toblerone bar at the church’s Sunday Funday event!

As I filled out the form and stuffed my ticket in my pocket, I told Hubby I wasn’t worried because I never win anything. Later, someone asked me if I’d share it with Hubby if I won. I hestitated. I said “yes” of course, but scoffed internally because I wouldn’t win it. And I was ok with that.

On Day 1, I asked for suggestions on just what to do with a 4.5 kg chocolate bar. Only Hubby was truly helpful; He sent me a link to 10 recipes. The one that caught my eye was sour dough brioche babka with toblerone and caramelized white chocolate. My Dad just shared some of his sour dough starter. 

I smell a disaster in the making!

On Day 2, we started to confer on the best way of breaking into it.

Throwing Ax #1 or Throwing Ax #2

Holding 2 throwing axes, and knowing how good my aim actually is (I’ve won 2 of the 2 tournaments I’ve played in…and having only tried axe throwing twice, I think my aim is pretty good!), Hubby suggested the meat cleaver.

Like I couldn’t throw that if I wanted…

So on Day 3 –

Aim and GO!

Don’t worry, there is a cutting board under that. It required some muscle but I wasn’t going to let anything keep me from sweet success!

We devoured 1/12th in less than 24 hours. In fact, Youngest Son became the “parent” and took the container away from me…having failed the first when he just moved it out of reach.

Nice try, buddy. I’m very adaptable and I can use my feet to shift the box closer.

I’m not sure what the next step will be, but I’ll keep you posted!

To victory: it looks unfamiliar but it tastes like chicken.

Jeff Winger, Community

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 36

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, family history, first day of school, food, humour, memories, nature

Dear Diary – I did my back to school shopping…

Dear Diary – While it was super awesome and super entertaining watching Eldest Son fell a tree, there was one problem: how to deal with a felled tree.

On Saturday, Dad loaded up the truck with the first pile of brush for a run to the woods. The “woods” is a small patch of scrubby woodlands near what was the family farm. As we bumped along in silence, passing familiar farms and villages. There were more houses than I remembered, but for the most part, all remained the same.

We passed the house where my grandmother grew up with an older couple who “adopted” her. She went to live with them following the difficult birth of another sister and her family’s move to the city. She found her own household too chaotic, and she was happier growing up in the quiet household. She quit high school and worked in a store so she could care for this couple in their golden years, before she married grandpa and moved into her in-law’s home…where she cared for them in their golden years too.

We also passed the large, old cemetery my Dad would drive by slowly because I would hold my breath going past it.

I don’t know why I wanted to go with my Dad. Sure, it was to keep him company, but there’s also something special about this patch of land, like something calling me back to it. It’s a connection to the past and I feel a kinship with the families who came before me.

My great-great-great grandfather, Patrick, arrived in Canada from Ireland in 1837 with his wife and 8 children. They cleared and settled their crown plot by 1840. In 1843, his lawyer began petitioning the government for the title that was promised. The land passed from Patrick to Edward, who died in 1917. When he died, his wife walked across several fields to these same woods at the south end of the farm. She dug up and planted a small tree on his grave. I can remember looking for this evergreen tree in the cemetery (holding my breath), which could be seen from the road on the way to the farm. It came down in 2005. The farm then passed from Edward to John, and from John to my grandfather, Roy. The farm was sold in the early 1980’s, but we still own the woods.

These woods were used in WWII to train the Royal Canadian Electrical & Mechancal Engineering units in camoflauge and equipment recovery and repair. The pigs at the farm soon learned that big trucks might mean delicious scraps, and they would run to the fence every time they heard a truck. Once, my grandmother was taken on a tour of the camp and an young officer went ahead to remind the lads to watch there language and behaviour because there was “a lady in the camp”.

The roadways used by the trainees are nearly indiscernable around the trees, but Dad had no difficulty wending his way through the gap in the wooden rail fence and into a clearing not far from the road. We spotted this puffball mushroom on the way.

Dad measured it on his next trip and said it was about 14″ across.

The only sounds were crickets and the occasional lazy bumblebee. I saw dragons flies and ants, but no other creatures. I know that there are deer and bears, and smaller critters around. We were surrounded by cedar and pine, prickly ash, sumac, juniper, and plenty of moss-covered rocks.

Can you find the road?

On the way home, we took a different route, one that led down dusty roads and over hills. When I was a kid, my Dad knew just how to hit those hills so that my stomach would roll and I’d laugh out loud. It was better than any scary roller coaster!

We stopped in the last village at a bakery in an old limestone building. The windows are low with deep sills to display the store’s wares, and the door is bright yellow…with an old, sticky lock.

We bought 3 kinds of bars to share: maple walnut, peanut butter-chocolate, and nanaimo! We earned them (or rather, Dad did)! A yummy way to end a busy day!

Life is uncertain….eat dessert first!

Unknown

Dear Diary – It felt like Fall had arrived by the flick of a switch. On Saturday afternoon, Mom and I enjoyed a lovely, warm swim in the pool. On Sunday morning, I was reaching for a sweater and regretting not packing more than sundresses.

Monday was our last day together, a bonus day since school was starting later than expected and I remained at my folks with Youngest Son longer. Determined that Youngest Son was NOT going to spend it sleeping all day, as has been his routine for the month of August, I insisted he get up and go out with us for lunch. He was cranky, but he came.

Being a holiday Monday and a small town, our dining options were limited. It’s been years since I dined in MacDonald’s. Growing up, it was the only fast food restaurant in town, and one we usually frequented on Sundays after church. If Dad was working, we’d take it to the Fire Hall. We eat in front of an old black and white t.v. and play tag on the trucks.

After lunch we played board games until Mom needed a nap. I think Youngest Son did too.

We arrived home on Tuesday and I have been unpacking bags and boxes ever since. It’s amazing how much stuff accumulates over the summer, and how well I can pack it in my tiny car!

I’m always sad to see the end of summer. I like the sense of freedom from obligations and deadlines that it brings. I know if I didn’t have routines that I would literally waste precious time, but it’s delicious simply to know that I had the space to do so. Every season has its place and like it or not, the next one is beginning. It’s time for activities to start, jean buttons to strain, and pumpkin-spiced crap to appear in every coffee shop across the land!

The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Dear Diary – I didn’t sleep well last night: ‘Twas the Night Before…

This morning, though the sun shone brightly outside, inside the mood was somber. I did my best to stay out of Youngest Son’s way as he finished making his lunch and gathered his belongings. It’s the first day of Grade 12, a year whose outcome will determine the next step in his life journey. And having attended virtual school for part of Grade 9 and all of Grades 10 & 11, thanks to covid, it feels like the beginning of Grade 9. Again.

Also, he had to get dressed!!

He wore his new jeans today, the ones I bought and exchanged for a smaller size. Though a 27″ waist, he still needs a belt. (Once again I’m reminded mine used to be 24″ and I start singing The Way We Were).

I dropped him off at the corner. I figured the day was tough enough without the long early morning walk. That walk will have to become part of his routine in preparation for Uni next year. Mama’s not living in his dorm (actually only in spirit).

Thus begins a new chapter in his life, and in mine. I was just beginning to settle into a routine at home, having quit my job, when covid shutdowns hit. Now, after 2 years I suddenly find myself in the same place I started the pandemic: home, alone, and wondering just what it is I’m supposed to be doing with my life.

So I’m doing just what I did then…starting a routine. I had breakfast. I had my quiet time with the Lord. And now I’ve said hello to you, dear diary. Time for me to begin my next chapter. Lord, have mercy!

Beginning
Just let that word wash over you
It’s alright now
Love’s healing hands have pulled you through
So get back up, take step one
Leave the darkness, feel the sun
Cause your story’s far from over
And your journey’s just begun

Danny Gokey, Tell Your Heart to Breathe Again

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 35

Tags

aging, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, humour, midlife crisis, shopping

Dear Diary – The house felt completely empty after Eldest Son left last Thursday. We had one final quiet swim before he left and Mama Cardinal in her nest, though watching us warily, was content. We also gave her space. I puttered with sewing. Even though haven’t made any more sales, it makes me happy…and I got Christmas presents covered for the next 10 years!

Eldest son enjoyed camping trip, even if the mat he borrowed from his grandparents turned out to be the one with the hole!

Youngest Son and I continue to silently count down the final days, making every effort not to think about all the changes coming once the “s-word” starts.

I had already had my first back-to-sch*%l nightmare. We didn’t know where we were going, we were running late, and then, I didn’t know if Youngest Son had even arrived. I woke up soaked in my own sweat, my heart pounding! My own education overlapped with Eldest Son’s, and then his overlapped with Youngest Son’s, so bear in mind that between me and my sons, I have had more “First days of…” than most parents! With only a few more years to go, we think, I’ll be ready for retirement, though I suspect my stomach will still be in knots in the early days of September.

Dear Diary – On Monday Mom and I had a coffee date. We met a friend of hers, for many years, after not seeing each other for many more years. We tucked up in the back corner and alked fast and furiously. This special lady had supported and prayed for me and my family for many years, and once upon a time, her daughter and I had joked ceaslessly about how clueless boys were, mostly to cover up our teenaged insecurities. That daughter now lives on the other side of the world. I bet the boys are clueless there too! Time slipped away too quickly and she had to run, but it was so good to catch up. It’s certainly an advantage when you visit for more than a couple of days…there’s time for fun things like this!

Dear Diary – This morning our house was buzzed by the paparazzi! I don’t know how they knew I was here, unless you’ve been sharing secrets. Just before noon, we heard the thumping of a big helicopter. Mom and Dad live next to a pipeline station, so it’s not unusal to hear a helicopter or two in a week as it surveys the line from the sky. But this yellow fellow wasn’t so mellow – he was circling the house! I went out with my cell phone to snap some pics. He was close enough, the pilot waved at me. After a few more passes in a large circle, he flew off.

I wonder if he was snapping my pic too?

“Hey Buddy…check out this crazy old lady taking my picture…”

Dear Diary – It’s a simple pattern, they said. Suitable for beginners. A one hour project.

They lied.

It took me nearly 7 hours to complete 4 bowl warmers…including the cutting, sewing, ripping apart, crying, pinning and sewing, ripping apart, throwing things, pinning and sewing, ripping apart, aggravated primal growl, ripping apart, and sewing again.

They are practical and cute…

…but I’d be crazy to try again.

Maybe next week….

Dear Diary – I had to do the inevitable. Back to Sch&%l shopping. Otherwise, Youngest Son would be heading out in highwater pants. He has grown so much, and since he’s been living in his pajamas for the last 2 years, there was no urgency to update his wardrobe. I actually managed to find jeans with a 28″ waist. And they are still too big. I’ll have to see if I can exchange them.

I remember when I had a 24″ waist.

Mem’ries, light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories of the way we were

Marvin Hamlisch, Alan Bergman, Marilyn Bergman, The Way We Were

I also remember when I could wear heels without the very thought of them making my body ache from the waist down. It was only a year ago that I donned my $1100 shoes (which I bought at a yard sale for $10 with the original price tag still on). I wore them for our 25th wedding anniversary, which we celebrated, not in Rome as planned, but in our backyard with goofy photos. And then I wore them to pick up our take-out Italian food. It was the closest we could get to Rome.

I couldn’t walk the streets of Rome this year, not because of covid but a literal inability to walk much farther than around the block. So instead of caressing shiny satin stilettos, I’m in search of “comfortable shoes”. It’s code for stable, ugly, old lady shoes…and every part of my being objects.

It reminds me of shopping for bras when I was a teenager. I wanted the pretty lacy ones…but needed the sturdy body armour of my elders.

I still do.

It’s why I bought that bra online several months ago. The one I break into a sweat trying to put on. The one I need to start doing a daily upper body workout so I can actually use it. It’s like trying to squeeze toothpaste back into the tube, but instead things are oozing everywhere. I’ve tried, worrying that the sounds being squeezed from my mouth will arouse the interest of the inhabitants in my house, and they will come wandering up to see where the livestock in the bedroom. If they ever did walk in on me, they would be forever scarred. It’s not pretty. It doesn’t feel good. It’s impossible.

So is finding “comfortable” shoes. I figure I have at least another month in sandals before I have to cover my tender tootsies. My sneakers will last another year. And I haven’t given up hope yet.

But it’s getting thin…

They’ve starting designing pretty bras for pretty plump princesses, so hopefully shoes will be next?

Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world!

Marilyn Monroe

Dear Diary – We caught up with Auntie M last night after her recent big trip. She survived all the walking, including the one to get to her hotel. After a long train ride and since there were no taxis, she decided to walk to her hotel. It was only 5 blocks away. But it turned out that though the blocks were not particularly lengthy, they were uphill. The engineers who built them were kind enough to add stairs in places. She was very hot and tired after her uphill battle, with the summer sun beating down, when she arrived at her hotel. Imagine her delight when she entered the premises only to be met with a towering set of stairs and no elevator in sight.

My old nemesis…
Stairs!!

Po, Kung-Fu Panda

We remarked that at least her departure would be swift. Just set her suitcase on the edge and give it a good boot. She agreed, but unless it was raining or she was too sore to make the trek back to the station, she would be walking, not taking a taxi there. She’d need her suitcase wheels to work. Mom piped up, “ no you don’t…just ride your case down the hill”.

This is one of those times when I wish could draw a cartoon…Auntie M with arms and legs akimbo sitting on her case, mouth wide screaming and hair flying, as her suitcase rolls haphazardly over the crest of the stairs on the sidewalk. The big question is…suppose she made it to the bottom, how does she stop?

Dear Diary – Sometimes when it rains, God paints the sky with colour.

Last night was going to be our last meal together, so we went out with Auntie M. The day had been a mixture of blue skies and sun one minute, and dark clouds with heavy rain the next. I spent a portion of the day packing our belongings. I even took Youngest Son for his back to sch*%l haircut. But then Hubby texted that sch*@l’s start was a day later than tradition, and then Grade 9 only on the first, so Youngest Son wouldn’t be starting as early and we could stay longer if we wanted.

We wanted.

Rainbows were a sign of a promise and I felt like this one was for me. I may not ever walk the streets of Rome, or if I do, it might be in old lady shoes. My body will wrinkle and sag. My children will go off to make their own way. My business may fail. My hair will gray. Promise is a big word. It either makes something or it breaks everything. But I serve a big God. Whatever happens this year or next, I am not alone. It will be ok.

Hello September. Thank you for the reminder that change can be beautiful.

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 28

Tags

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

Dear Diary – I never did hear from the bank. So around 1:30 Thursday afternoon, Youngest Son and I headed over to open a bank account for him.

It nearly didn’t happen.

After a long wait in line, I explained the reason for our visit and passed on our supporting documents. The teller then rather bluntly informed me of two things: he needed photo id and an appointment. His govenment issued photo id health card was not acceptable. I politely replied that I had called in the morning to see what he needed and never received a reply to my voicemail. I asked, “how do I to make an appointment and what is a 16 year old with no current passport or driver’s license supposed to use as photo id?”.

I then proceeded to stare her down.

Shortly thereafter, we were whisked into an office with another banker, and the process was completed with smiles and sweetness.

Now if he could just get his contract and pay check from his boss, we’d be all set!

Dear Diary – In advance of my running away from home holiday, I prepared a meal plan and got groceries for Hubby. Yes, I spoil him!

Both Hubby and Youngest Son helped to bring them in, since Hubby came home to work. With a large Rogers “blackout” he had no internet connection in the office.

Youngest Son noticed the entire side of the styrofoam tray holding a whole chicken was demolished.

“That’s a big bird. It crushed the package”, he said

“Yeah,” I said, “must have been an angry bird!”.

Dear Diary – Saturday was another hot and sunny day but I got to spend part of it attending a wedding rehearsal in a gorgeous backyard. My only job that day was to take notes for “the band”.

I didn’t need to take notes. The officiant was so efficient, that he had a 2 page order of service with meticulous notes…that had meticulous notes. In ridiculously small font. In fact, it was so meticulously detailed, it actually confused people. It took us over an hour just to read through it together as a group.

Then we ran through the whole thing (minus details like reading the vows and the 20 minute sermon)…twice!

I think it was the longest wedding rehearsal not at the venue in the history of wedding rehearsals. But then, I haven’t attended them all. My friend, the bride, was positively radiant. I’m so happy for her, and I would gladly sit through hours of rehearsal, just for her!

Dear Diary – I laughed at a Facebook memory today, from Vacation Bible Camp, 2009:

This week my name is “Jellybean” and I sail on the good ship “Lollipop” with Captain Kitty Kat.

Dear Diary – My friend is getting married!!!

Sunshine burst through the curtains Monday morning and I was filled with excitement and nervousness. Not only was my friend getting married, but she had asked me to sing at her wedding.

I have never sung at a major event before, not even for the seniors’ group at my former church. Surely she knew half a dozen other vocalists who would easily put my performance to shame? But she was adamant and sincere in her request. Plus she’s the bride. I was deeply honoured to sing for her.

I first met the bride a few years ago at church, and we quickly became friends. She is an outgoing, bubbly, fun and contageously joyful person. All the time. Even when she’s exhausted. She loves the Lord and she loves people. I got to encourage her as a new musician to worship teams, and she encouraged me back. She often dropped by on her lunch hour when I worked in the Cubicle of Purgatory, frequently with Tim’s tea for me. We’d talk about our jobs, our families, her social life, and of course, boys! I assured her repeatedly that he was out there and he would be SO worth the wait!

And he was!

I spent the morning fussing with my hair, applying paint to the barn make-up, and lamenting never finding a new dress. My friend, guitarist, and ride would be picking me up at 12:30.

By 12:40 I was beginning to wonder if he had forgotten me. When he called, he regaled me with the story of his morning. A member of his family had tested positive for covid, which cancelled golfing and instead he was helping to rearrange their home and lives for the foreseeable future. I texted the pianist that we were running late, and waited by the door.

We flew down the highway like 2 masked bandits running from the law, with the truck windows down. I was thankful I had spent all that time fussing with my hair!

The bride was absolutely radiant in a blush lace and tulle gown, which sparkled almost as much as she did! Her eyes never left her sweetheart’s face, and during the vows, she was rocking, so filled with joy she could hardly stand still.

I sang during the signing of the register. The officiant had actually shortened the medley I was asked to sing, which became a problem when the signing went on and on. The wedding planner, with wide eyes, kept waving her hands at us to continue. But the three of us are seasoned church musicians and have encountered more than one long-winded minister, and so we comfortably navigated between the two pieces easily. No one knew the difference.

I also sang for the recessional, but because the venue was in a large white tent outdoors, only the couple, parents, and small entourage walked down the aisle, and they were forced to listen to me belt out longer than necessary. It wasn’t a song I could just wrap in a moment’s notice.

By the end, of the cocktail hour, we had all nearly melted in the heat. Facemasks didn’t help, and in a crowd of 200, only 4 of us were wearing one. Fortunately, I was sitting with friends, one of whom was very good at catching the servers’ eye, so we got to sample all the hors d’ouevres. Well, they did. Most of them had fish or shellfish, which I can’t eat, but they looked delicious!

Dinner was also delicious: a mixed green salad with roasted tomatoes, poached pears and toasted almonds, followed by lemon and thyme cornish hen, red wine braised short ribs, mascarpone mashed potatoes, and grilled vegetables. Having noted I was lactose intolerant, I was given sherbet for dessert, instead of an apple blossom with butterscotch caramel and ice cream. BUT, not only did the friend at my table text photos of each plate to his family members who were unable to attend, he managed to snag an extra dessert, which he shared with me. I got the apple blossom – he got the ice cream.

Once the bride posts photos, I will too!

I always wanted a daughter, and I believe in a loving God. He doesn’t plant dreams in our hearts that He is unwilling to fill, and so my friend has sometimes felt like a daughter to me. I have prayed with her and for her. We have mourned and laughed together. At times, I have offered a little “motherly” advice and given her all my love. I’m so happy and excited for her. My beautiful girl is married!

[Love] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails. 

1 Corinthians 13: 7-8

Dear Diary – The moon was orange and full, in stark contrast to the darkening sky. Youngest Son in the car beside me, tried to snap photos, as we travelled home. I think he captured it well…behind every tree.

Home is 2 places to me. Buildings, yes, but much more than plaster and brick. Home is the place where the people I love most abide. And for a few days, I am going home to be with my folks.

Youngest son’s new job is entirely online so he is free to join me.

I remembered everything when I was packing. Except that after I packed and loaded my suitcase in the car, I realized I had packed Hubby’s toothbrush, not Youngest Son’s. I made the switch! Only to find out that night that I had, in fact, not packed Youngest Son’s toothbrush. I had packed Oldest Son’s toothbrush instead.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me!

Except this time I am entirely to blame!

Today I am writing to you in my pjs, on the deck, enjoying bird song and sunshine. Am I too hot? Absolutely! Am I moving? Not a chance!

Family is where life begins and love never ends!

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 24

Tags

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

Dear Diary – Someone in my family asked me why I bring a travel mug of tea in the car to church, only to leave it in the car. Especially when I’m there early for rehearsal.

I had to patiently explain that this is the tea…that will get me to Tim Horton’s so I can buy more tea. Duh!

Tea – a magical elixor that turns “leave me alone or die” into “good morning sweetie”.

Dear Diary – Sometimes the sense of smell doesn’t seem like a gift. Hubby has no sense of smell. I believed him when, having been assaulted coming down the stairs but a big baby “bomb”, the kind where if it were a cartoon drawing, noxious green gas would be snaking across the floor, I told Hubby “your son reaks”. Hubby lifted son’s butt to his face and inhaled, and swore he couldn’t smell it. My eyes were burning. I could smell colour. Every creature within a 5 mile radius had already run for their lives as if pursued by a dark evil from the abyss. And Hubby was blissfully (and legitimately) oblivious!

As a result, I am the “tester” for all things foul…is this milk bad? Does this bread smell mouldy to you? This week it was, does my garbage can stink? That’s exactly where I planned to stick my face this evening…how did he know?

Occassionally, he can catch whiffs of something. Or the odd scent becomes noxiously potent to him, like the vanilla handcream I used to keep in my desk at the law firm. He could smell it hours and many hand washings after I put it on, so much so that I had to give it away, rather than cause him to have a severe allergic reaction.

Vanilla handcream he can smell, but the dead mice and potent posterior poops are all mine. Oh Goody!

Dear Diary – We have been getting quotes on our HVAC system since everything is at least 20 years old and needs to move out. Hubby was late for the most recent appointment, so I had to fill in. I did my best not to the let the sales guy see my eyes glazing over as he explained the whats and whys of his recommendation. Hubby arrived home before I completely passed out from boredom.

Shortly after that, I excused myself to answer the phone. I was literally saved by the bell. I forgot I had potatoes boiling on the stove (for potato-stuffed meatloaf) and they were just boiling dry. I whisked the smelly pot to the back porch as the men were coming up from the basement. The sales guy commented that someone’s been cooking and it smelled really good.

It did not.

Maybe he has no sense of smell either.

Dear Diary – This week I saw a chiropodist. Apparently it’s pronounced with a “ch”, not a “sh”, and I’ve been saying it wrong for years. I was really hoping there would be something I could do to regain my mobility with less pain, and stay off the heavy duty medication that may or may not have made me sick and/or contributed to the death flu I had in May.

I felt bad for this lovely young thing handling my alligator feet. The recommendation was braces.

When I was a tween, I desperately wanted braces (for my teeth) because all the popular kids had them. So I’m wondering, will these braces make me popular in the nouveau geriatric circles?

I really don’t mind getting older…but my body is taking it badly!

Unknown

Dear Diary – I haven’t been swallowed in my jungle garden yet, but the job is far from complete. I did almost get eaten by a horde of angry ants. On Saturday, I also had the pleasure of watching Mr. Cardinal and his son. Like a Dad teaching his son how to drive, they flew circuits together around the backyards all afternoon.

This morning I’m pretty sure I spotted son navigating the neighbourhood on his own.

I hope my birdfeeder becomes his regular hang-out too, and I will get a photo session, just like I did dear old Dad.

Dear Diary – Probably the biggest news of the month: I FINALLY opened my Etsy store! In the last week, I made 0 sales, but I have 2 admirers. I know both of them…but it counts!

I have more inventory to upload…and I went fabric shopping again, so more projects to undertake.

And I’m happy!

https://www.etsy.com/shop/SassyGreenLemons

Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart.

Erma Bombeck

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 23

Tags

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

Dear Diary – I just want you to know I’ve entered the snapdragon stage of the year…part of me has snapped and part of me is draggin’! It’s gardening season!

Yesterday I armoured up and headed into my backyard to tackle the “jungle”, a long rectangular flowerbed aligning the fence next to our neighbour. Our neighbour just spent a lot of money paying a guy to landscape her oasis, and in order to be a good neighbour, I need to do my part.

I say flower bed rather loosely. It’s more like a strip of land ruled by an overlord called Elderwart. It’s a noxious tyranant who chokes out all living things in its path, and reproduces at an alarming rate. At the moment, the leaves are knee-high, and the delicate flowers that resemble queen anne’s lace, is nearing my shoulders. I realize I am not a giant among men (or women), but it’s beyond ridiculous.

I have battled this demon for over 20 years. Nothing kills it! I have dug pits 2 feet deep to remove it’s roots and offspring. I have severed and slashed ruthlessly and without mercy. Every year I vow that this will be the year I am victorious, and by mid-May, I hang my head my defeat.

I almost conquered it once, and it nearly killed me. Three Saturdays in a row from the time I rose until the evening dinner hour, I travailed, wreaking destruction and burying it under a thick, black cloth. But the overlord creeped under the cover of darkness to pop up along the edges and cracks, and seams in the cloth. I lost.

Yesterday, I laboured for an hour and a half (with a minecraft break in the middle), but only succeeded in clearing a 4’x2′ patch. I freed the sweet peas and I’m nearing the border on a lily. My knees were covered in dirt; I had pieces of tree in my hair. And today, my shoulder and butt muscles are screaming, “what have you done”?

I vow….this year is THE year I will conquer. Or burn it to the ground

Well it’s over, it’s over, it’s over, I won’t be pushed around
Move over, move over, move over, Get back or just get out
Set this plane up in flames
It’s over, it’s over, it’s over…It’s time to burn it down!

Skillet, Burn It Down

Dear Diary – I had a TMI moment (aka Too Much Information). A TMI is the suddenly manifestation of a mental picture painted “with broad, sweeping strokes” when your brain (whether it dwells in the gutter or not) spontaneously fills in the blanks after someone says something that may be completely innocent.

The Scene

Youngest Son asked me if I wanted to play Halo. It’s been kind of our chillig out thing lately. I was rushing up the stairs at the moment.

What I said

“Sure, but first I gotta pee and grab my stool”.

The step stool was so could finally wash the windows outside overlooking the porch. The muddy raccoon prints were painful reminders of a beautiful dream…a squirrel proof birdfeeder!

Dear Diary – It took us several hours, but Hubby and I finally scraped the mud off our boots and headed to the Mall Saturday afternoon. Hubby’s phone battery has been in the “vestibule of heaven” for quite some time, requiring charging daily so it can limp through the working hours. There are days I relate!

I got up at 9, as promised, so I would be ready to go and we could be there for the 10 a.m. opening. But Hubby was updating his laptop, so I drank tea and watched The Great British Sewing Bee instead. Then we realized my cellphone, which he was going to assume, was almost dead.

A couple hours later, we made the long trek to the Mall, very narrowly escaping collision with several drivers who drove like they were alone in parking lot! Safely parked, we headed to the nearest exit, when Hubby realized. He left his cell phone at home.

An hour later (which included a detour to the post office and a potty break at home for me after the extra breakfast tea), we arrived at our destination. Only the storefront was now part of the food court. We travelled along with the unmasked masses until we could find the “you are here” sign and find the new location.

It was a half hour wait at the store as an older gentleman argued with the sales clerk, who patiently explained over and over again until he stormed off in a huff. Our own transaction was remarkably painless, and would have been shorter had their only 2 tablets been in working condition. After a dozen attempts to write my e-initials on the screen, she went “old school” and printed out the contract.

Most of my settings, contacts, etc. transferred to the new phone, which is very similar to the one I had. The only big difference is that my cell phone hoots at me when I get a text. I’ll have to change that. For Hubby, this is the new adventure of finding all the important buttons. Most of my photos, texts and contacts are still on his phone too, hopefully not providing him with light entertainment. My ring tone and text tone are there too, so whenever the phone rings, we have to ask “is it yours or mine”? He’ll have to change that too.

Most phones come with a charger. This one did too. Only instead of having a “boy” end (USB to charge) and a “girl” end (to plug into the phone), this charger is both “girls”. Cute, but useless.

We’ll have to learn to share our one charger.

Dear Diary – Summer’s heat is coming an with it, Hubby’s complaints when I use the oven and heat the house even more, so I made a few things to tuck away. I made beet pickles, blueberry scones, chai scones…and bunny buns.

Or what was supposed to be bunny buns. They were adorable on Pinterest.

Mine looked more like an obese mixture of the dragon, Toothless, in the How to Train Your Dragon movies and a gerbil-like Pokemon.

It didn’t help that as they baked, they grew more obese, and their noses ended up stuck to the bottoms of the ones in front of them. Mmmm-wa!

Hubby complained that they were too “bready”. Ah…hello! They’re buns. Bunny buns!

I wanted to tell him to kiss my fluffy white keester, but instead, I just smiled sweetly…it makes him nervous because he has no idea what I am thinking

The next time your wife gets angry, drape a dish towel over her shoulders like a cape and explain,
‘now you are … Super Angry‘.

Maybe she’ll laugh.

Maybe you’ll die

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 22

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, faith, garden, humour, sewing

Dear Diary – Not only is my child faster in video games, he’s faster in come-backs. I’m not sure it’s a good thing.

On Sunday evening, phone in hand, Hubby headed up the stairs. “I’m going to call my Dad”, he said, “but I have to go to the bathroom first”.

“That’s a pity”, I said (referring to the bathroom break, not the call).

“No,” Youngest Son retorted, “it’s a duty”.

Dear Diary – Summer is fast approaching, bringing with it hot and humid days. Which means my window for baking is coming to a close. So in an effort to find joy in the current “ho-hum” of life, I decided to tackle a couple of new recipes.

The first was onion jam. It was a tearful experience…but only because I had to chop 4 cups of onions. It was also a long experience as it required constant attention, and disappointingly, yielded only 2 cups. I’m not sure I would call it “jam” as the word infers something sticky and, well….”jammy”. It was the texture of very soft and caramelized onion. But! It was delicious on a hamburger, and if there’d been bacon and goat cheese too, I would have been in heaven.

My second recipe was not really a recipe at all. I literally cobbled together an apple-rhubard crumble pie using my apple crisp recipe x2, and instinct.

Two years ago, my aunt blessed me with some of her rhubarb plants and I have been carefully watching my tiny patch. This year, it produced enough rhubarb for a taste, while leaving plenty to go to seed so my patch will grow. Rhubarb is hard to find in the city and it’s priced like gold!

She gardens…she sews…she bakes…she paints…she refinishes furniture… there’s nothing she can’t do. Except maybe skydive.

To make things easier, I used a frozen pie shell for the base, because eating was a higher priority than fussing with pastry. I’m happy to report that, for once, I didn’t have a mental bakedown. My instinct paid off, and we polished that pie off in 2 days. It would have been one but I managed to keep the wolves at bay with a wooden spoon.

This is my invariable advice to people: Learn how to cook, try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all have fun.

Julia Child

Dear Diary – I was playing Halo with Youngest Son yesterday, and in a panic, I furiously pushed the button and yelled, “why can’t I change guns?. Slightly annoyed, Youngest Son tells me, “that’s because you’re pushing the “capture screenshot” button…like 20 times”.

So…. apparently my new controller has an extra button to capture screenshots.

Dear Diary – Today I went to Home Depot to buy herbs and flowers. I couldn’t invest much in my garden during covid. We couldn’t “shop” and the selection was limited or quickly picked over. I ordered seeds onlinelast year, but most of them never grew. Only the basil, and it was “basil on steroids”. I still have plenty left from my harvest last summer – dried, frozen, and minced and made into ice cubes.

To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.

Audrey Hepburn

I have always felt there is something special about gardening. The size, the space, the colour, the texture of the garden matters not because it’s about more than growing flowers or producing vegetables. It’s about nurturing the soul. Hands not idle, yet a quiet time for the mind to reflect or meditate. A safe space for tears to flow, and a restless heart to find peace.

Peace is something for which we are all searching. Whether it’s a break from the hurriedness of life, or calmness in a storm. I believe our Creator speaks to us in a garden. Like every person, each petal and blade of grass is a different and beautiful. We just need to look more closely.

I’m reminded that when Jesus sought the Father, asking that He been spared the cross, it was in a garden. It was also a garden where He met Mary after He rose again. C. Austin Miles was inspired by this story when he wrote the hymn, In the Garden, in April, 1912. It was my great-grandmother’s favourite hymn. He writes in the first person of walking in the garden with Jesus, and the peace and joy experienced in that place.

I am aware that my new fragrant herbs and purple petunias cannot chase away the grey clouds in my life, (nor rooting out the tangle of weeds that reach my knees), but I expect I will meet with Someone who can. Already, my heart overflows.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

C. Austin Miles

Dear Diary – I’ve been putting it off for some time now, but in order to get my Etsy business off the ground, I needed photos of my cute bags with a model. Since I can count the number of friends I have on one hand, my best option was not to harass ask them. but to do it myself. But in order to do that, there were a few obstacles to overcome.

First, I needed a plain background, and my house offers neither a plain blank wall or a brick facade. We have a wooden fence but standing knee-deep in weeds, climbing over a pile of assorted boards, or figuring out how to use a power tool to remove paintings (that no longer have a picture) was too overwhelming. I finally decided to amuse my neighbours and use the straggly, hole-y hedge in the front yard.

Setting established, the next challenge was to figure out how to use the tripod. I vaguely recalled Youngest Son using it once for a school project and it being waist-high, but after several minutes of unlocking and locking toggles, and tugging on poles, I was beginning to think it had all been a dream. I could barely get the camera higher than my knees. And I’m short! I would have asked Youngest Son but he was writing a physics test and I didn’t want to interrupt him. Fortunately, before I threw it across the room, I had a rare “ah-ha!” moment, and the problem was solved.

I attached my camera and turned it on.

The battery was dead.

An hour later, having put my hair up and changed into a black knit dress and jean jacket, I headed out with a basket full of bags, my tripod, my camera, and a looming sense of dread.

It was too hot for a jean jacket!

It took several attempts to figure out how to use the timer. After several snaps of my knees, face and butt (thankfully blurry), I figured out how to make it autofocus. Sort of. But despite the gray skies and looming black clouds, the photos were washed out.

I hefted everything closer to the road and tried again. But it was the same issue. So I moved everything again, within feet of the road but under the shade of the tree.

By now, the guy across the street was watching me from his front door, several passers-by had quizzed me non-verbally, and George down the street, was pretending to work in his garden.

I didn’t appreciate an audience.

By the end, I was becoming quite a pro at guessing where to stand with 5 seconds remaining, and how to turn to hide my chubby elbows and “water wings”. Or so I thought.

I have photos.

They’re not great.

But at least I finished my project before it started to rain.

I always thought it would be fun to be a model, but quite frankly, it’s hard work taking accessories off and on, holding odd positions, and pretending it was “fun”. I’d say “I’ll keep my day job” but I’m still figuring out just what that should be.

You know why adults ask kids what they want to be when they grow up?
It’s because they’re looking for ideas!

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 21

Tags

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

Dear Diary – We made it to week 21, the legal drinking age back in the ’70’s. But I don’t need to reach for alcohol to have a good time. I just have to watch the birds.

This morning I watched a happy robin skip up the belly of my upside-down wheelbarrow and hop on the wheel…which immediately started turning, literally scaring the crap out of the bird as it squawked rudely and its wings and legs flailed wildly in all directions. Once composed on the ground, intact and with attitude it strolled into the garden, where it could hide in shame amongst the lilacs.

Totally what I would do.

If I’d only had my camera ready…

Dear Diary – Friday I made my way to a hospital I haven’t been to in over a decade, for my bi-annual mammogram and ultrasound. The first challenge was finding a parking spot. I found one fairly quickly but it required me to carefully wedge my small car between a huge SUV crowding the line on the right, and a concrete post on the front left corner. Next, I had to hobble my way in from the wilderness and stand in a cue for clearance to enter the building. With the fresh yellow mask that was 2 sizes too big for my nanohead, I began wandering the halls to find the elevator level one. Level one was not the floor on which I entered the building. That was the ground level. I had been instructed to follow the green lines on the floor and I did. I really did…until I got off the elevator and the green lines were non-existant. I found them again, after wandering the wrong direction and being redirected by an unamused receptionist at the other imaging desk.

Once I arrived, I was quickly processed, stripped, gowned, and watching a newscaster discuss monkey pox on the television. Yes, it’s a real thing!

One comedian described preparing for a mammogram and this was my favourite:

Visit your garage at 3 a.m. when the temperature of the cement floor is just perfect. Take off all your clothes and lie comfortably on the floor sideways with one breast wedged under the rear tire of the car. Ask a friend to slowly back the car up until your breast is sufficiently flattened and chilled. Switch sides, and repeat for the other breast.

The only thing they forgot to add is shallow breaths…which, when your tender bits are being crushed, is all you can do!

I have an irrational fear when it comes to mammograms. I can handle the discomfort of baring my breasts to a stranger and having my body twisted and manhandled into a torturous device. It’s a necessary evil and I will do it rather than risk the consequences of not. Medicine rocks! It’s the fear of being trapped in said device. I once read a story, probably an urban legend, that a fire alarm went off during one woman’s mammogram, and in her panic, the technician ran off, leaving this poor woman trapped in the machine. There is no fail-safe release lever for the patient in the event of an emergency, and being so severely squished, this poor woman could not inhale sufficiently to call for help. Eventually she was released and compensated for her trauma, but that mental image is forever burned in my brain.

My doctor called me this week to say that for the most part, everything looks great. Except for a tiny cyst that the clinic would like to view next year.

Dear Diary – Do you remember last week when I posted a photo of my pickle castor to see if I would get more likes than a posting of a deviled egg plate? The deviled eggs were more popular than my blog, by a huge margin.

Dear Diary – I was watching a nuthatch enjoying our breakfast bar on the back porch. Normally, nuthatches don’t like to share, but there did appear to be another bird on the other side. After I looked out the other window, I realized with horror that there was another bird but…it was stuck inside the bird feeder. I have NO idea how this little twerp found his way inside since the openings are less than half an inch high and three inches wide. Fortunately, the roof of the house-shaped bird feeder lifts up. Unfortunately, I’m way too short to reach it!

I dragged a lawn chair closer and precariously perched on the edges of said chair, knowing full well that if I stood in the centre I was going to fall right through. Lifting the roof, I released little twerp, who flew immediately to the lilac tree and a great discourse ensued over this harrowing experience.

Maybe they were playing angry birds and overshot the ledge!

Dear Diary – Youngest Son is officially taller than Hubby!

Hubby is not amused!

Dear Diary – Eldest Son sent me a realty listing for a property near him. It was over $4 million. I told him he could the $4 million and I’d cover the rest…

Dear Diary – This Saturday we experienced an incredible storm, which now has its own Wikipedia page. Merriam-Webster defines a derecho as “a large fast-moving complex of thunderstorms with powerful straight-line winds that cause widespread destruction”.

I was washing windows on this beautiful, sunny, breezy afternoon when the alert from Environment Canada blared on our cell phones. Hubby was watching a gentleman inspect our air conditioner outside. Within 15 minutes, the house was as dark as it is by dinnertime in the winter and the wind was tossing the trees. Hubby and the furnace guy hustled inside as the rain started. In the blink of an eye, the lilac tree was kissing the ground and the rain flew by sideways in misty white furls. Hubby and furnace guy had just started to inspect the furnace when the power went out. Furnace Guy decided he’d return another day despite our offers to stay until the storm had passed, and we watched him twist his way down the street around the path of large branches littering our street.

As quickly as it started, the storm was over and we were more fortunate than many of our neighbours. Eldest Son’s friends who live literally blocks from us, were without power for 18 hours. At least one EF2 tornado has been confirmed in a neighbouring town, and my father-in-law, who is about 6 hours away, may still be without power.

That evening we drove to McDonald’s for ice cream and to survey some of the damage. Large trees had taken down fences and roofs had been stripped of more than just shingles. Even a safety bar at the train crossing had been ripped off. The line up at McDonald’s was long so we just came home.

I wondered how Youngest Son was…since he was camping in a field at a youth event. (He was – just some broken tent poles and soggy sleeping bags. All part of the adventure!)

I wondered if Eldest Son was going to be working long hours to clean up the storm damage around hydro lines. (He was long into the early morning hours).

On Sunday morning, we went to visit Eldest Son. It’s been at least 3-4 years, partly thanks to covid, since I’ve been to his place, and despite assurances that he has cleaned from time to time, I was still dubious. I had every right to be! We tidied and sorted and cleaned together for hours. More importantly, I got to meet his girlfriend. She’s pretty and sweet, and I’m so happy for him!

We left early in the evening so they could have some time alone. I entertained myself by taking photos out the window.

Scenery

Airplanes

Buildings

And I watched the sun set in a glorious array of gold.

I live in constant anticipation of good stuff. It’s not being ‘Pollyanna’ about things, but most stories don’t have the ending we would give them right away. The better endings come later.

Bob Goff

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 20

Tags

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

Dear Diary – Sometimes there are things I’d rather be doing. Like this morning, for instance. I would rather have been catching you up on my week than shopping for a friend’s very personal hygiene items. But –

A friend loves at all times.

Proverbs 17:17

I received a call early this morning (between breakfast and getting dressed) from an out-of-breath friend asking me to come over right away because she needed help. She’s normally obstinate and independent, so when she asks for help, it’s serious. I dropped everything, tossed on some clothes and headed out.

Everything is not OK, but it’s better. I’m “on call” at home and will check in later. Her friend in her building will check in too. I’m not “tooting my own horn”. I just think there’s a lot of me-firstness in the world, and if we don’t take care of each other, the me-firstness will grow. I want to nourish kindness in the world for furture generations.

Even if it involves shopping for someone else’s very personal hygiene products, way too early in the morning! 😉

Dear Diary – A recent study in the US found that 6 in 10 people claim hitting the snooze button improves their relationships because they’re getting more sleep. Another study suggest that hitting the snooze button is actually bad for your health because it interrupts REM sleep, which is the restorative sleep stage. What both studies agree on is that we don’t get enough quality sleep. In fact, for an extra hour of sleep, between 24-33% of people would give up eating with a knife or spoon, give up attending a concert or game forever, abandoning their favourite streaming service for a year, sleeping on the floor for a month, or wearing uncomfortable shoes for a week.

I’m a snooze bar hitter. I will purposefully set my alarm so I can hit snooze once or twice before I have to get up. So all I can say is, “10 more minutes, please”.

Youngst Son and I recently saw an ad for a Sleep Tracker App. It records your sleep activity: when you roll over, when you talk, when you snore, when you fart… Seriously! Why do I need to know I let one rip at 3:30 a.m.? How is that going to improve the quality or quantity of my life?

Youngest Son joked that my folks shouldn’t use it. They both argue that they don’t snore, even though we’ve all heard them. I wonder if it measures “breathing”? Hubby doesn’t snore all that much, but he BREATHES and it keeps me awake. That’s why we’re “sleep divorced”. We’ve slept in separate rooms for most of our married life. I think it’s a key factor to how we survived together this long without killing each other. Better sleep = better attitude and less stupid fights. It’s been better to miss out on pillow talk than to stop talking altogether. Most people disagree with our decision, but then, they don’t have to live with us!

Dear Diary – My neighbours built a new castle in their backyard last weekend. Their yard is cluttered with other things that will probably never get used…like the old plastic castle, a hammock frame, a fire pit, a broken hot tub, and a yellow slide. But I shouldn’t cast stones. My own yard is also cluttered with things we don’t use: a wheelbarrow, a ladder, an odd pile of lumber, and the railings from our front steps. We might need one or all of those things…someday!

Dear Diary – A local and prestigious university is offering a new course in September…on Taylor Swift. Yeah, THAT will prepare us for the future.

Dear Diary – Sometimes the smallest things can have the greatest impact. On Sunday, despite the sudden onset of deep summer temperatures, I went for a walk, around the block! I have struggled just to walk to the fridge for the last 3 months, so I saw this as a personal victory.

I was called in suddenly by my GP last week after a chest xray and bloodwork, and found out my lungs are overinflating. It’s the only part of me right now that is “hyperactive”. So while I’m currently still not taking the heavy-duty medication that likely contributed to me contracting the Death Flu, I’ve had an inhaler added to my “pharmacy”. And it does feel like a pharmacy! I have pills for this and cream for that. I have doled out tylenol, immodium, and lactaid from my purse, like a seniors’ dealer. And when I travel I have to pack a separate bag for it all. I used to marvel at how much “old people” talked about their ailments, medications, and doctor’s appointments. I’m beginning to understand…

Dear Diary – Last week, someone’s photo of a deviled egg dish got more likes on Facebook than my blog. So as a test, I’m posting a photo of my pickle castor just to see what happens.

Dear Diary – My parents made an impromptu visit ealier this week, but since I’m still hobbling and wheezing, my Mom taught me some of the ins and outs of online shopping. It’s a whole new world! The next day we made a quick trip to the local mall and I couldn’t believe how much it’s changed. But then, it has been the better part of 2 years since I’ve been there. I tried on several sundresses, mostly because the only sizes they had were small or large, or XXL. Thankfully, for now, XXL is still too big for me! Now that I have an idea how things are fitting (case in point, I have several pairs of jeans ranging from size 3-12), I can shop ’til I drop…on the couch for a nap.

I wish I had a pair of skinny genes.