Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 44

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, halloween, humour

Dear Diary – What’s a little chaos between friends?

It’s been months since I’ve led worship, between the Death Flu and Covid, so I was a little nervous heading into rehearsal Thursday evening. It went pretty smoothly considering the extra distractions, and I felt like my training as a Mom and the many years of concert band practice (& that brief period of time where I struggled in a Dixieland band) kicked in and saved the night.

For me, at least.

First there was a kid playing guitar and singing loudly behind me, but rarely on time. I had to concentrate on my own timing. BUT I’m NOT complaining because this was a learning experience for him, and a time of worship. It’s so precious to hear young people worshipping and exciting to know that I can have a part in training and encouraging as they grow.

Second, there were a few younger children having a grand time screaming and playing in the sanctuary, and for me, that high-pitched screaming…the kind that sounds like someone is being murdered, is like fingernails on a chalkboard for someone else. BUT I’m NOT complaining…because there was joy in the house of the Lord.

I’ve heard musicians say that if the rehearsal is rough, the service will be smooth. I’m not sure that’s always the case. Sure, I only sang the wrong words 5 times (in one song) during rehearsal, but things can still go wrong. I sang the right words to that song during the service, but I messed up somewhere else.

Our church uses tracks. On the plus side, it helps keep us together and we can add instruments that we don’t have. We can also adjust the volume of each instrument in the mix, which is helpful when there’s a zealous electric guitar playing on the track!

It’s been just over a year since I started using them, and as the leader, I’m responsible to set them up. Which I did for rehearsal. But then our drummer found a replacement so he could play guitar, which was a good move as it created a better sound overall. But it meant I had to adjust the tracks accordingly Sunday morning. And that’s where I messed up.

I hit “play” on the last track at the end of the service, but while it said it was playing, there was no sound. No click to keep time. No cues to tell us when to sing. Nothing. Until suddenly there was a zealous electric guitar. And only electric guitar. But the service had to go on, so I started playing keys and singing when I knew it was time to come in, See, years of playing with no tracks has advantages too…I don’t depend on them.

It wasn’t until we were starting verse 2 that I realized what had happened. In addition to adjusting the volume on the instruments, you can also hit “solo” and only that instrument will play. Guess what I did?

I timed it well…my leaning over and pushing buttons so that the sanctuary was suddenly filled with a fuller sound at a good time. Hubby and Eldest Son, both church audio technicians, said they didn’t notice. But if you watch the service on YouTube, you will see me fiddle with the iPad a few times. I kept a poker face (not my usual grimace). It wasn’t perfect, but it doesn’t have to be. We’re not perfect; we’re worshipping a perfect God.

Dear Diary – Eldest son came for a visit on the weekend. It was short but lovely! And he brought me a pumpkin. Sunday afternoon we all took part in planning and carving a family jack-o-lantern. And when you’re a family of gamers…

Dear Diary – It took hours of my life. I read, and re-read, and re-read the instructions again and again. Then I had Hubby read the instructions. He also read and re-read them again and again. But I finally sewed a tea pot cozy.

I don’t even like them.

Still, I figure if we can tackle a pattern together and succeed, we can tackle almost anything!

Dear Diary – We finally had our new HVAC and water heater installed. Everything was functioning well despite being over 20 years old, but we didn’t want to wait to lose heat in the dead of winter. So we receievd several estimates and finally signed a contract in September. Between part delays, shortage of workers, and getting Covid, the installation kept getting delayed. It’s been a mild Fall so it hasn’t been an issue.

Hubby was on vacation for the 2 days that the guys were here, so he could answer questions and get instructions. And enjoy a good laugh with the boys when they found these blasts from the past hidden on a shelf above the furnace…

They also found these…

It was mostly a pile of covers, a few pages of creepy ads from back pages, and one raunchy European magazine…all mid-1970s. In 1978, I was 4 years old.

We purchased this house in 2001 so I can breathe a sigh of relief that this smut didn’t belong to my beautiful baby boys. And it never will. I shredded all the sultry photos and salacious stories! These pieces of history can easily be thrown away.

Character is what man is in the dark.

D.L. Moody

Dear Diary – It isn’t often that I can think of a smart-aleck response in the spur of the moment, and one that gets back at Youngest Son for all the short jokes. I’m not short…I’m petite!

We were fixing our plates for dinner and Youngest Son asked something and I answered. Shocked, confused, and slightly embarrassed, he replied, “Did I say that out loud?”.

I immediately (I’m proud to say) asked him, “are you OK? Is the air too thin up there?”

On an aside, Hubby doesn’t think “petite” is the right adjective for a short person. I like it because it connotes someone who may be small in stature, but also someone with a small frame, a tiny waist, a dainty demeanour. I realize short doesn’t have to connote someone who is round like a blueberry, but I’d rather view myself as a fairy princess than plump fruit!

And why do we use fruit to describe women? I’ve never heard a man called a watermelon. It seems men’s bodies are described in relation to what they do rather than food, like “swimmer’s body”.

Shouldn’t we be focusing on being in shape rather than a shape?!?

I think the next someone who refers to my body as a fruit, might just get pureed. I’m not a pear or an avocado, or a peach. I’m a woman!

Dear Diary – I didn’t dress up for Halloween this year. It was a wet Halloween too, so we didn’t have many kids come to the door.

More chocolate for me!

The week after Halloween: Don’t act like you didn’t have your kid’s chocolate for breakfast!

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 43

Tags

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

Dear Diary – I am happy to say that we are recovering from Covid-19! I was finally free, as of Sunday, to leave my room without a mask. O glorious freedom!

But I feel like I lost most of October, between the reaction to medication which caused the Death Flu and Covid-19. I also had that one terrifying day, and one week to clean in preparation for Eldest Son and his girlfriend’s visit Thanksgiving weekend. The Thanksgiving weekend and celebration that didn’t happen because Hubby tested positive for Covid-19.

Good times!

I say we are recovering, not recovered, because we’re still both barking like a dog, and I still tire more easily than usual. But I’m well enough to tackle the usual tasks: meals, laundry, dishes, and dusting! As you can imagine, I’m thrilled. Not! How is it possible for the living room to be dust-covered when no one has been in it for almost 2 weeks? But it’s only dust…not thick ropes of spider webs or mouse droppings. This “house of horrors” has been purged of covid’s evil spirits, and I pray that we’ll never suffer under it again.

Dear Diary – I talked to my rheumatologist today. I don’t always think he listens. I explained how I developed the Death Flu, again, when I took the sulfasalazine medication. This time, I started to feel like crap after 1 pill. After 2, I had a fever of 102 and it took me days to recover my strength.

He started talking about another medication with equally scary side effects, so I asked about increasing my current medication or trying something like prednisone. I understand, it has nasty things too, but they seem less nasty…He considered a few options out loud, then he asks me what I thought about trying just 1 sulfasalazine pill.

[*crickets*]

To be fair, we were on the phone, it was early, and I think I threw him when I didn’t do my normal thing and just say “ok”. 🙂

We discussed some options and I will be trying a new medication for 3 weeks…after I go for bloodwork early next week. This medication can cause weight gain and I’m not thrilled. I’m hoping if it helps, I can start walking again to counteract it. And, after being trapped in my room with Covid for 10 days, with a box of crackers that I had to ration, I lost a few pounds so I’m not packing more on top of the more that I’ve already packed on.

Does any of this make sense?

Dear Diary – I had a coughing fit the other day, and even as I was gasping for breath between rib-shattering convulsions, my hot from my exertion and tears streaming down my face, I wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. It might have been more hilarious if I wasn’t in such distress that I nearly throwing up a bunch of times! Thank heavens it’s been the only episode!

Dear Diary – I had another near death experience on the way home from the school, thanks to a white mercedes. (Do all mercedes drivers think they own the road? Asking for a friend!) It’s been awhile since I’ve had an encouner with a bad driver…on the way home from school. Other than the Fashionable Fran, a hot Mama (also in a white mercedes) who likes to stop in the middle of the street (preferably blocking the parking lot I pull into to drop Youngest Son) to let her precious darling out of the car. And never without a long conversation before her darling walks away. Ugh!

This shiny white car’s owner obviously strongly objected to me driving 55km in a 50km zone, so in an effort to speed me up, he tailgated me. Being a Monday morning, and having not consumed my morning caffeine yet, I was in not in a “generous” mood so I didn’t budge. I mean, I might have really stirred the pot if I had slowed down, but I didn’t want to get burned! So I continued on my merry way at 55!

Mr. Mercedes drove even closer. In fact, I’m pretty sure I saw steam pouring from his ears. The problem, dear diary, was that I was going to have to slow down to turn soon, and I knew that if I even touched the brake the width of a thread, he’d be kissing my bumper. And based on the colour of his face, his words would not be kind!

So I flicked on my turn signal before I took my foot off the gas to let him know what was coming. Well, of course, he whipped around me into the center turning lane, which I fully expected. What I did not expect was that he’d whip back into the driving lane at such a speed and angle, that had I not cranked the wheel to the right, Hubby’s car would be a crumpled mess from the bumper to my door!

I slammed the horn, once I was certain I wasn’t hearing metal on metal.

Mr. Mercedes only sped up to get away, waving…

I considered following him to get his license plate, but I’ve reported several dismal drivers before, and I doubt a single one suffered the slightest consequence. So I came home for tea…yorkshire tea on a silver platter.

I figured my stellar performance, both in controlling my mouth and keeping my head in the face of danger, deserved only the best!

Have you ever noticed anyone driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone driving faster than you is a maniac?

George Carlin

Dear Quaratine Diary – Week 42

Tags

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

Dear Diary – Eldest Son ubered beverages and 6 doughnuts the first morning. Three of them were chocolate.

Someone ate all the chocolate ones.

I’m sad.

Dear Diary – I’ve reached a new low. I contemplated the usefulness of adult diapers. If I had some, I wouldn’t necessarily have to get up to pee. I know it’s gross; stop judging me.

I know if I don’t go, I won’t go back to sleep. So I lie there a long time psyching myself up for the trip.

First, it’s cold outside the blankets, even when I’m shivering under them.

Second, I’m pretty sure the floor leans to the right and I have to prop myself up on the wall.

Third, my head starts to feel as light as a feather and threatens to carry my feet away with it. Until I take a step and my sore joints bring me back to earth.

The trip is long and really feels hardly worth the effort, having sweat all the liquid out before I even get there.

Dear Diary – When Hubby quarantined in his room, I fed him tuna sandwiches on toasted bagels, and hot pork roast dinners. I realized after the first morning in my room that I might starve to death before the fever killed me. He doesn’t eat breakfast, so he never thought to offer me any. I could have asked him, but I’m not good at asking for help. Fortunately, I had had the foresight to grab a banana and a box of cheese crackers before I collapsed in bed the previous night. How bad could this get?

Dear Diary – Even though I am immunocompromised, I’m not compromised enough to qualify for the antiviral medication. Of course, once I heard the potential side effects that would make me feel much worse, I realized I dodged a bullet.

Dear Diary – Hubby reheated last of my homemade soup, the one I made as the angel of darkness spread her cloak over me Wednesday evening. I almost ended up peeling carrots and potatoes sitting on the kitchen floor.

He also made me sweet potato fries, and I learned that he doesn’t like sweet potato fries.

Dear Diary – On Day 3, I started to celebrate feeling cold and not because I had chills from a fever.

Then the tylenol wore off.

Dear Diary – I rationed my cheese crackers. I made that box last 6 days!!

I want a Big Mac!

Dear Diary – It’s like having a small child again. Every time I try to nap, someone interrupts.

Dear Diary – I forgot I ordered tea from David’s Tea on Thanksgiving Monday! The package arrived today. Too bad I’m too sick to care.

Dear Diary – On Day 3, Hubby ran a bath for me. I don’t usually take baths because of a bad experience when Youngest Son was small, but I had the energy level of sloth (and I probably smelled like one too).

By this point, I had sweat through nearly every nightgown I owned, at least once. Particularly at night. It was so bad, I had to sleep on the wrong side of the bed to get away from the puddle that had soaked into my mattress topper. On average, 47-60% of the human body is water and I had no idea from where it could possibly all be coming!!

In addition to sweating from the high fever, I spent the night playing the game “on again/off again”. You know the one where you’re too hot, so you toss off the blanket, and then you’re freezing, so you pile it on again…only to toss it 1 minute and 30 seconds later.

I had sweat and shivered so much for days, I was certain I must be a size 0 by now. Imagine my disappointment!

The bath was short, but oh so good! He even put bath salts in it. I have no freaking clue where he found bath salts because I haven’t taken a bath in over a decade, but God bless him!

After my bath, I put on a sexy, silky nightgown. Not to “reward” hubby but because I thought it might feel good. And I discovered something. It was the perfect weight. No sleeves and backless meant no soggy elbows or damp collar in the night. If I got to hot, I just had to stick my leg out of that thigh-high slit and I was good. Chilly, just wrap my feet in the silky folds.

Sure, I’ll never wear it again without remembering the Great Swelter of October 2022, , it helped solve my perspiring predicament. Even though I sleep alone in a queen-sized bed, I don’t like sleeping on the other side. It was uncomfortable spooning the laptop, DVD player, half-eaten bag of chips, phone, thermometer, box of kleenex and bottle of tylenol!

Dear Diary – There’s nothing good on Netflix.

Dear Diary – On Day 5, I ordered groceries with Instacart, to be delivered later in the day. I will never use them again!

Delivery was scheduled between 4:30 and 5. At 5, I received a text saying my shopper was starting…with delivery by 6:10. I received a text soon after that he had checked out.

At 6:43, I texted my shopper to find out what was happening. He informed me that he was shopping for 3 different customers at 2 different stores, and had to wait 20 minutes for my bbq chicken. The new estimate for delivery was 7:40.

I contacted customer service. They were no help!

My groceries finally arrived almost 3 hours after he started shopping. The frozen nuggets were not frozen, the meat was not cold, and the chicken was not hot.

The next day I discovered I was charged $4 for broccoli…I ordered broccoli. I didn’t get broccoli!

Following my review, I will be reimbursed for the missing broccoli. I’m just praying we don’t get food poisoning.

Dear Diary – There are forums on Etsy, so my task today was to post asking for feedback on my shop, because honestly, I don’t know what to do! Others have done the same with very insightful feedback from other shop owners.

One person replied and nothing she said was remotely helpful.

I think this is God’s way of saying, “stop banging on that door”.

I don’t mind, except that I have really been praying He’d open another first.

Dear Diary – It’s Day 8 and I still feel like crap! So does Hubby, who started 5 days before me! My head is still full of thick goop, which threatens to suffocate me. I still have a headache. All I want to do is sleep.

I got ambitious yesterday and changed the sheets on my bed because, you know, even animals deserve clean cages. As soon as I was done, my sweaty body into it and napped.

And then I needed another bath.

I occasionally slip downstairs, masked, to reheat a cup of tea or hunt for snacks. There are none. In my weakened state, I only ordered basics. But I keep hoping I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Last night, after another short bath and clean nightgown, I curled up on the couch downstairs to watch t.v. with Hubby. He was watching a show on submarines. I was so happy to be out of my prison cell room, I almost didn’t care.

I’ve been staring at the same view for over a week, and I’ve been told that on Day 11, I am free to move about society once again. They also mention being symptom-free and I’m not sure I ever will be again. As for moving, the thought just makes me tired, and then I need another nap.

Only last May, I was marvelling at how the green leaves on the trees grew while I was sleeping with the death flu. Here we are, 5 months later. I survived the Death Flu a second time only 3 weeks ago? And now, the leaves are orange and slowly being stripped from the branches by a cold wind…and I’m still sleeping.

When life knocks you down, stay down and just take a nap!

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 41

Tags

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

Dear Diary – Lockdowns may be a thing of the past, except in our household. In fact, Hubby equates his current situation with prison.

He had a scratchy throat on Saturday but didn’t think anything of it.

But Sunday morning, as the sun was rising and I was about to leave for church, Hubby tells me his throat is worse. Since we were scheduled to have Thanksgiving lunch at his brother’s later and Eldest son was coming with his girlfriend, I suggested he take a covid test just to be safe.

He called me as I drove home from church. Did I get his texts? His test was positive.

When I got home, Hubby was wandering around house, unmasked, yapping on the telephone. I put on my mask, grabbed my cell phone and timmies, and closeted myself in my room.

When Hubby knocked few minutes later, I told him “don’t you come in here. Go to your room”! Suffice to say, I seriously lacked compassion in that moment.

I talked to Eldest son, texted our pastor, and did my own test. Which made my nose run for the rest of the day. Fortunately, it was negative. Thus began the cleansing of our home, including windows wide open. There was no family gathering, no turkey or stuffing.

I ate my Thanksgiving eggs and bacon alone in front of the t.v.

I had no plans for dinner because we were supposed to get stuffed at my brother-in-law’s. I offered to deliver the unopened ice cream, whipped topping and pies, but my offer was declined. At least we had pie!

Since then, communication with Hubby has been by text. I deliver food outside his door on a tray. We wear masks in the bathroom. I hold my breath brushing my teeth. I don’t latch the bathroom door so I can open it with my foot. I wash my hands. A lot. I analyze every sniffle and cough.

Before Youngest Son returned to school on Tuesday, he had to conduct a covid test. Sticking something up your nose and scrubbing your sinuses with a bottle brush just seems so wrong, on so many levels. Sticking it in someone else’s nose is insane. I was worried that I’d lobotomize him and I’d be stuck waiting on people forever. But with his brain intact and a negative result, he hasn’t missed any school.

But we both feel like walking time bombs.

Hubby went for a short walk one sunny afternoon. Sticking with his prison theme, I called it “Yard time”.

We’ve been so careful. Groceries are still curbside pick-up. We don’t eat out. We always mask. We haven’t travelled; we barely leave the house. And yet the plague has still entered our home.

Dear Diary – I have never been a math genius, so after hours of fighting with measurements and calculations with a tea cozy pattern, imagine my delight and despair that the idiot wasn’t me. In conclusion, the creator of these calculations owns a 15.5” high teapot. Her pattern was 9” high, and the dimensions of her pieces once sewn together was 12.5” high. Something does not add up!

Dear Diary – The end is nigh!

By last night, though I continued to test negative all week, I had a terrible headache, aches, chills, and a fever of 102. I tossed and turned all night, shivering and sweating, wondering what the morning would bring. I’ve been taking care of Hubby…who’s going to take care of me! The endless pile of dishes is stacked by the sink and the pile of laundry continues to grow.

This morning I tested positive. I’m not sure if I should be upset that I’m sick or relieved that there’s no longer any doubt. Hubby and I are now sequestered in our separate rooms. He’s improving and able to work from home. Youngest Son is fine and has been hiding in the basement when he’s not at school.

I have to cancel my 4th covid booster on Saturday. And my chiropractor and bloodwork appointment next week. I,m not even sure how long I have to live in hiding?

Fearing I would starve to death, Eldest Son ubered Tim Horton’s doughnuts and coffee/tea. So if I don’t make it, at least I am happy!

Think inside the box. Love. Life. Donuts.

Unknown

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 40

Tags

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

Dear Diary – It’s Week 40, the same number of weeks as the average gestation period for humans. Even though I might feel like it, I am not a sleep-deprived new Mom. I’m slowly recovering from the Death Flu of last week. In addition to regaining some energy (and sadly, appetite that wants dessert), I’ve been left with a burning chest. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon and I’m simply sitting on the couch. I was very fortunate to speak to my Dr. and I’m on an inhaler. This happened last time I tried this new medication and I’m going to go out on a limb and say, this one is NOT for me!

Last Thursday, I crawled from my bed…to the couch, where I consumed gingerale, crackers, and the entire mini series “Angel of Darkness”.

Since then, I’ve banished the “darkness” and have tackled multiple piles of crap and corners of crud. I’m reclaiming the house after all the in-house shuffling during covid to accomodate work, school, and whatever it is that I do! With some shuffling in the office, I made room for the desk that was in the middle of the bedroom. Now all my sewing is in one room, and my bedroom is once again a bedroom. Plus I have a trunk full of crap to donate. Just in time for a new furnace (hopefully tomorrow – he has yet to confirm but we agreed to his suggeste date, so he might just show up. And, hopefully, I will be dressed). Also just in time for Thanksgiving. Eldest Son might be bringing his girlfriend for a night and I couldn’t let her see the house in the shape it was in. Between covid, illnesses and sewing my brains out, the house is clean, but not tidy.

But it’s well on the way!

You never get a second chance to make a first impression.

Will Rogers

Dear Diary – Do you ever get the feeling that something isn’t right? Intuition? Premonition? Sixth Sense? Nonesense. Whatever you call it, I starting feeling it Friday morning.

Normally, I drive Youngest Son to school, but I was still nursing a headache and had told him the night before he was on his own. I planned to get up in time to say “bye”, but he left 15 minutes early. I only know this because I heard the door slam on his way out. I raced to the window but by the time I got there, he was already out of sight. I went back to bed and thought nothing of it.

Until lunchtime, right around the time he’d be leaving the school.

And then he didn’t come home.

I dismissed the feeling and tried to reason why he’d be so late. But he isn’t a doddler and the time for his online co-op placement was fast approaching. Was the timetable impacted by an assembly? Was co-op in-class today? Had he been kidnapped by pirates and sold into slavery?

The school confirmed no assembly. I left a voicemail for his co-op teacher puttered aimlessly the rest of the afternoon.

The teacher called after school. It was business as usual, so where was Youngest Son? The teacher contacted his placement supervisor and called me back. The Supervisor had received a message from Youngest Son saying he would be late because he had “taken the wrong bus and was a long way from home”.

My heart sunk. He could be anywhere in the city…in any direction. I had no way of finding out!

Except…

I had received a text from an unknown person, which I had to tap to open so I completely ignored it. I opened it now. While I couldn’t read the full message, I saw a couple street names, my home and cell number and phrases like “bus left”, “Hudson” and “their son is there”.

I grabbed my keys, slapping a “Call me!” note on the front door, and headed to the nearby Mall with a Hudson’s Bay store.

Inside I was racing to that store. Outside, I was crawling because it was Friday afternoon in the city. I prayed between heated sighs and low growls. I sounded like Marg Simpson. I knew it; I didn’t care! DIdn’t these stupid people know I needed to get my child?

I frantically hobbled around the store several times, then the Mall. I don’t know if there were even any good sales on! I even had a salesclerk try paging him several times. The first time, she asked him to come to the Estee Lauder counter. I rolled my eyes. I don’t know too many teenage boys who know what Estee Lauder is?

But after nearly an hour, no Youngest Son. With a knot in my stomach the size of a basketball, I called Hubby to come home, and crawled my way there too. I hit every red light. When I got stopped by a freight train, just blocks from home, I actually screamed. Not a high-pitched scream like I’d been frightened by a spider, but something ferocious and feral. The intensity of it scared me, but I once again felt more in control of the terror clawing on the periphery.

My heart sunk when I saw my note still on the door. One more tour of the neighbourhood, then I called the police.

I had just started to reheat a cup of tea in the microwave (since tea is stereotypically consumed by those in distress), when the police officers arrived. The microwave continued to snark chirp throughout the first phase of questioning.

It wasn’t until the officer opened the weird message fully, that I realized it was from Youngest Son on his computer, and I knew exactly where he was. I had gone to the wrong mall! It had crossed my mind, but in my haste, I had stupidly dismissed it and wasted so much time!

The officers asked for a recent photo so they could share it with mall security and police in the area. Youngest Son has resisted having his photo taken for years. Any “recent” photos would have a hand, a burger, something over his face.

Hubby arrived home and we found a photo. We texted a few folks who we had informed so they could be praying. Our pastor and long-time friend called to say he was on his way…to the mall.

And we waited. I rocked in the rocking chair, squeaking a 4/4 rock beat, irritating everyone in the room.

After about 40 minutes, the phone rang and I heard the sweetest words: “I’ve got him!”

He had been lost for 5 1/2 hours. When the officer stepped outside to tell his partner, I burst into tears.

This has always been one of my greatest fears…that my child would find himself frightened, alone, and hurt, at the mercy of a stranger. If God should choose to take him home, I want to be there. I want to hold him and comfort him, and usher him into the arms of Jesus. It’s an irrational fear, maybe even a selfish one. But whoever said fear was rational?

It’s an instinctive part of being a parent, to want to safeguard our children against the monsters that really do exist and to stand in the gap to protect them. With everything we’ve got…

It’s a fear that shifts even when they’ve grown and are on their own, but it will never really go away.

Like the story of the prodigal son, we feasted to celebrate his return. Instead of the fatted calf, we had pizza, chips and chocolate (O Henry!) Youngest Son has had to patiently endure several discussions, and lots of hugs and kisses. He made up his co-op time on Saturday. We will be getting him a cell phone and this time, he promises to keep it charged and take it with him!!

I read Psalm 121 to Youngest Son almost every day when he was on the way. It reminded me that God would watch over him always, from the moment he was conceived to the day he takes his last breath.

We are so thankful for a caring friend, who literally hopped in his truck to bring him home. We’re thankful for all the people who, hearing what was going on, prayed with us. We are thankful for a loving Heavenly Father who watched over him.

We have so much for which to be thankful every day.

The Lord will keep you from all harm- He will watch over your life;  the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

Ps. 121:7-8

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 39

Tags

crafts, dear diary, family, humour, sewing

Dear Diary – I headed out Friday morning for a craft sale in my home town. Youngest Son had a PA Day and decided to join me. He was the one who commented on a passing company van:

“Well those drivers have gotta be close to a hundred. Good for them that they’re still driving.”

“How do you know that?” I queried.

“The back of the van says ‘Over 100 years of experience onboard'”.

A few minutes before that I had noticed the overhead electronic sign with a picture of a school bus. It also said, “Watch for children”.

“There are children on the highway?” I thought, “I’m driving 100km/hr and there are children?!?!”

I suddenly had horrid visions of carnage and burning vehicles as they swerved and ploughed into each other, trying to avoid the children playing tag gleefully across the highway after their brightly painted daycare van inexplicably overturned.

Friday night my Dad and I tried setting up the new picnic shelter…under stars. It was cold, cold enough to see our breath. And the grass was wet. I called Youngest son to come out and help. He had worn flip-flops. That seemed about right.

The sun was winking at us over the crest of the valley ridge as we stumbled from our warm beds, eyes still puffy with sleep, to get ready for our big day. Dad and I piled into his truck, with Mom to follow in the car. It was the only way to get everything safely to the Market Square.

I worked with a vendor on the Market Square for 3 summers, braving full day sun and steamy temperatures. We used to soak our feet in buckets of cold water and snack on slushies to try to stay cool. I suffered heat stroke at least once every year.

There were no steamy temperatures this time, though the sun was shining. It didn’t take long to set up my stuff and we settled in for a long day.

It’s hard to put yourself out there. You don’t know what would appeal to someone, and you’ve put your creativity on display. Pricing items is the biggest challenge. You don’t want to undervalue what you’ve made, but there are also expenses to be met. Inevitably, you will be judged for what you’re asking, and some people don’t mind telling you with snorts of derision before they walk away.

All day we were surrounded by the sound of popping balloons and consequently, unhappy children, as well as the intoxicating smell of churros.

The churros were delicious…and popular!

Besides dancing to avoid the persistent hornets, we watched people. Amongst the senior couples and tired parents with gaggles of small children, one dog mamma stood out, probably because she had 3 chihuahuas in a covered stroller and one strapped to her chest in a baby carrier. They were all perfectly happy. There was also a woman in a bright, matching floral outfit, which was truly a wonder to behold. And then there were the witches…

They were a friendly group of gals also enjoying the sights and sounds of the Scarecrow Festival. One even invited Mom and I to join their coven. Actually, they perform and are open to new “sisters”.

It’s the thought that counts.

I had one lady looking for adult bibs and another looking for a tea cozy. Sorry ladies.

Through the afternoon, the wind picked up. Auntie M was visiting when a wind gust flipped a row of totes into a pile and crashed my easel of mini totes. No harm was done. Shortly after we restored order, Mom arrived with lunch for me. Except she left the house without my sandwich …but remembered tea, which was the more important thing any way. She kindly dashed down the street and returned with a pumpkin danish!

So. Much. Butter. Sooo good!

Dad arrived later with my tomato sandwich. I ate it too! Sitting works up an appetite!

As the final hour ticked by, all 3 of us had aching feet and were ready for nap. With only 2 chairs, Mom and Dad improvised…

I sold one wristlet, one mini tote, and one set of 2 bowl cozies. Two out of three of those items are Christmas gifts! Everything else is heading home with me again. I’m going to need bigger closets.

Be brave enough to suck at something new.

Unknown

Dear Diary – I seriously thought he had forgotten, and it wouldn’t be the first time.

It would be raining by the time Youngest Son headed home from school, and since I had to pick up a prescription at the drug store right across from the school, I offered to drive him home. But he had to meet me at the drug store!

I made sure I wasn’t late and I parked right by the door so he’d see the car if I was still inside. It was almost 15 minutes after period 3 let out by the time I got my prescription. It’s a 5 minutes walk for Youngest Son so I thought he’d be waiting outside.

He was not.

I rolled my eyes and drove home using his route, but I didn’t see him. I sighed and hobbled into the house yelling. I was met with silence. So I left a note on the door – “Call me. I can’t find you!! Mom”. Then, mumbling under my breath, I drove to the drug store near the house because it wouldn’t surprise me that he got “confused” and went to the wrong place. I wandered through the store, but no kid.

It wasn’t until I got back in the car that I realized…I was an hour too early.

I went home and sipped tea until it was time to head to the drug store…again. It was just starting to rain.

He didn’t show.

After 15 minutes, I drove home along his route, and found him more than halfway home.

He didn’t forget.

He was heading to the drug store near the house.

He seemed very confused as to the location of the drug store near the school…you know, the one we go to all the time! So I drove to the drug store a third time. He “remembered” it by the time we got there.

Maybe next time, he can walk in the rain.

Dear Diary – I started taking that medication I picked up on Monday. Last time I was terribly ill but we weren’t sure if it was the medication or something else.

By the next day, I felt like a wind-up doll winding down and I couldn’t get warm. By Tuesday evening, I was a shivering, aching, head-splitting, heart-pounding, sweating mass of misery. It was the death flu all over again!

I called my rheumatologist Wednesday morning and his assistant assured me it wasn’t the medication.

The internet said it could be!

The Dr. agreed I should stop, and ridiculously slowly I am starting to recover from the “Death Flu”. I saw my ankle bone for the first time this year but I’m not sure it was worth the agony. Nap time!

Dear nap…I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you when I was a kid.

Unknown

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