Shiny! For the majority of the world it means an object with a reflective surface, like sunshine on the lake, chrome on a hotrod, or a honking big diamond in a ring. But the nerd in me actually went to a few different places. In the space-western t.v. series, Firefly, Shiny is an expression meaning something is cool or valuable. And, in the video game, Overwatch, it’s a catch-phrase of Jamieson Fawkes, aka Junkrat, an Australian scavenger and anarchist who likes to blow things up! But since Covid restrictions mean I can’t leave home, I can’t fly into space (yeah…that’s the reason…) and blowing things up is just dangerous, I’m sticking with a literal interpretation of “shiny”. Of course, these items are also shiny, because they have value to me.
Little children love bright and shiny things – and in my experience, most grown-up women aren’t very different!
It’s true – the art of writing letters is slowly becoming a lost art. Who has the time to put thought on paper (once you find some paper)? Then you have to find an address, a stamp and even a mailbox! Sometimes it is just easier to send a quick text or post a quick message on Facebook. I get that! I’m guilty of doing it too.
But once upon a time, I used to write a lot of letters. Hubby and I started our relationship on paper. He was a poor student in another city and phone calls cost money! I wrote crazy stories with small-town caracatures to a homesick friend studying in the city. When our worlds seemed to be crashing down around us, another friend and I encouraged each other by sharing prayers and scripture. Baring our broken hearts to each other, we helped each other breathe in the darkness, until the sun started shining again.
Though housebound during covid, I once again have time to write and have re-discovered the pleasure in putting pen to paper. And for good reason:
Letters are more personal because they contain my effort, my time, and my handwriting. Those notes are often in or tucked into one of my handmade cards, made or chosen with that person in mind. My hope is that I will lift their spirits, and as I work, mine is lifted as well.
They take more time, which means I am more careful as I consider each word and phrase. I can extinguish inflammatory words before I create firenados. With my emotions in check, I am less likely to discourage, hurt, or offend the reader. And when I share my emotions or concerns, I can be concise, sharing the whole story without interruptions and distractions, and leaving other “cans of worms” unopened.
Letters can be read and re-read by the recipient. It gives them time to consider their response, if one is needed. It limits the number of folks who may feel they have a right to weigh in with their opinion or share their story. But most importantly, it may be something that the reader needs to read again and again, a reminder that they are special and they are loved.
Let us all then leave behind letter of love and friendship, family and devotion, hope and consolation, so that the future generations will know what we valued and believed and achieved.
Normally Wednesdays have been “wilderness wednesday” but there isn’t much wilderness in my backyard. The birds don’t visit my feeder. Even the squirrels, just like my neighbours, are holing up in their cozy abodes and venture out only to get groceries. And now, with the impending declaration of a “state of emergency” in our province, and living in a region that has been hit particularly hard by Covid, that isn’t likely to change.
So I decided today to share a few pics of my new office/craft room/spare room which I generally refer to as my “sanctuary”. It’s become the place I now tuck in to write or craft away a few hours, somewhat in peace. I have family visitors popping in to say “Hi” during their bathroom break! 🙂
I wouldn’t call the space complete, but it’s well on the way, and for the moment, relatively tidy! So a good time to snap pics because I know it won’t stay this pristine for long!
As you know, it took me several weeks to paint the room blue, and it would have taken longer without the help of a friend (who booped the ceiling with the roller in plenty of places so don’t look up!)
Let me give you a quick tour:
I had hoped to purchase a day bed, but elected to keep Little Guy’s bed instead and save some pennies. The drawers are handy for storing fabric (and a change of clothes for Big Guy if he ever gets to visit again)! I debated a long time whether to go for a “beach” theme or a “videogame” theme. I decided “beach” was more grown-up! At some point, I will print and frame some of my favourite photos from our 2 summer holidays at a cottage near the beach. It’s my “happy place”. I also have my eye on some fluffy and beach-vintage-y pillows, and I will re-cover some of these in softer colours. My hope is to create a comfy corner to read.
I searched my symptoms on WebMD and it said it said I needed to be on a warm beach sipping pina coladas!
I own a lot of craft crap! Moving it upstairs forced me to sort and purge, no small undertaking. I hid a lot in the closet and there’s still a shelf in the basement (shh!) My hope is that organized, easy access will help me recapture my “creative mojo”! I put out some cards to inspire me.
The desk is nothing like I wanted, but it belongs to Hubby and he wants to keep it for sentimental reasons. I would paint it white, but the sentiment comes from happy memories of refinishing it with his father. On the plus side, the drawers are deep and it’s been a handy surface for crafting, writing, and cutting sewing patterns. My new cow desk lamp gives me whimsy; the oversized tea cup for pens and pencils, a nod to my love of tea. The tissue paper flowers were a mother’s day gift a million years ago! I started to write a book and I need to suck it up and get back to it, so I prominantely placed this reminder: Let your faith be bigger than your fear.
Finally, behind me, a new shelving unit for form and function: more craft crap, and some pretty things to make me smile.
The top shelf is my “geek shelf”: Minecraft Lego, Big Bang Theory Lego, and my Mercy figurine. I play the battle angel, Mercy, almost exclusively on Overwatch! The bottom 3 shelves contain my stamps.
The middle shelves have more personal things. Some sea shells from my Grandfather, who loved to walk the beach in South Carolina early in the morning. He made me promise not to let Nana throw them out if he died first! I also have a photograph my aunt took of my family with the catamaran my Dad built. I don’t remember the boat (except the faded red paw print on the sail) but I have many happy memories of camping and canoeing on this lake. A blue glass bowl that belonged to my other grandmother. I seem to remember it with hard candy in it? And she loved blue. I also have her small white tea cup with exotic birds. Perhaps they are enjoying the sun in palm trees next to a white, sandy beach and turquoise waters.
Which is where I’d like to be.
Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.
Dear Diary – Last week, I arranged to go into the church office to finish printing the new church directory. I arrived in the early afternoon. Only the caretaker was there but no worries, I have still have a key. As a worship leader, I sometimes have to open the church to set up or rehearse.
When I arrived, the front door was unlatched, so I went in and dropped off my purse and box of materials. I went back for my mugs of tea, and the door latched behind me. But even though my key would go in the lock, it would not turn. It used to stick in the cold, so I threw up my hood and hoofed it around the building to the back door.
It was cold. The back of the church is surrounded by open fields and the wind can feel like a gale wind even on a relatively calm day. Again, my key went in the lock, but it refused to turn. And the latch looked pretty shiny….
I returned to the front door and rang the door bell. I rattled the latch. I pounded on the glass. I called for the caretaker. For half an hour.
I couldn’t drive home because my license was in my purse…safely tucked away in the warm church office. I couldn’t call anyone…because my cell phone was in my purse, which was tucked away in the warm church office.
By the time the very wary, and slightly surprised custodian appeared, I was ready to drop to my knees in surrender, my energy exhausted.
The locks had been changed weeks before.
Both pastors knew I was coming in.
No one told me.
Missing my old job just a little less….
Dear Diary – We are officially in Lockdown, or “The Grey Zone”. I think “The Black Zone” would be a great name for comic strip like “The Far Side” or a sci-fi series reminiscent of “the Twilight Zone”. If only I could draw….I’m wondering if I should rename my Quarantine Diary, the “Quarantine Chronicles”?
It means more restrictions: dining and non-essential retailers are curbside only, churches are closed, fitness/ recreational/entertainment facilities are closed, indoor gatherings are suspended, outdoor gatherings are limited to 10. With Big Guy in one city, and my folks in another town, “Christmas” may be postponed this year.
I’m not happy.
I’ve been a “good girl” and followed every government request. I have even extended grocery shopping to every 10 days. Which is a lot of bags for this little frame. I’ve pouted over others’ posts of family photos, walks on the beach, sunsets at the cottage. I just want to open gifts by the tree, play games, and eat too much with my family, like we do every year. I don’t need to shop or party, or leave the house. I just want to be with the people who mean the world to me. I know it’s just one day! I know I was blessed to spend weeks with them in the Spring, when lockdown seemed like an amusing interruption to routine. I know there are plenty of others who feel the same way as I do. The heart wants what the heart wants. 🙂
The rain falls upon the just. And also on the unjust fellas. But mostly it falls upon the just cause the unjust have the just’s umbrella.
It hasn’t helped that I had an unfortunate surprise this weekend. My Mom posted on Facebook that my Dad was in the hospital, a message she never intended for me to see.
I saw! I called! All is right with the world! 🙂
He’s going to be okay and will probably hate that I posted this. Mom will hate that I posted this too. IF ever again, they’ll call! My home is like a squirrel’s nest – full of nuts! And my “nuts” are pretty precious!
It never hurts your eyesight to look at the bright side of things.
As for me and my household, no matter where we’ll be, we’ll worship the Lord.
Preparations for Christmas are moving forward. Most of the gifts have arrived. The tree is up. I’m slowly baking my way through my checklist.
Every year I admire the array of magazine covers with pretty cookies. Every year I try to duplicate them. Every year, my cookies taste great but look “meh”.
Saturday afternoon I made icing. It tasted weird. I divided it and added flavours – lemon, lime and almond. It tasted like lemon or lime or almond…plus weird. I investigated; it was the icing sugar. Maybe it absorbed something funky from the plastic container? But icing+cookie was ok, and I hate to throw anything out. I iced my cookies and resolved to make another batch in the morning.
The new batch with fresh icing sugar was yummy, but the viscose textur meant the longer it sat in the piping bag, the more solid it became. Soon two hands were not enough and the bag threatened to split. I scooped and thinned it, but now it dribbled slowly from the bag. They’re “meh” again this year, but taste good with tea!
Dear Diary – I aired out my winter sheets and pjs on the clothesline yesterday. How did women wash and hang out wet clothes in winter? My fingers were pretty cold by the time I was done. Hubby scoffed, “it’s only -10…with wind chill, that makes it feel like -18C”. That would explain it! My things weren’t out long. The pillow cases were wind socks and I didn’t want to hunt down my nighties in my neighbours’ yards.
Dear Diary – I asked! I asked my friend, “do I need evaporated milk or condensed milk for fudge”? I should have followed my instinct because I bought the wrong one. It took forever to find a recipe that would use the wrong one. I followed it exactly and I made inedible chocolate fudge. It’s a horrible, grainy, pudding-like brown blob of poo! Any takers?
Dear Diary – The squirrels remind me of kids. They work hard and leave the mess for Mom to clean up!
Dear Diary – Our telephone conked out sometime last Thursday and our internet started to flake out too. So we called the telephone company to arrange a visit on Saturday. In preparation for said visit, we moved some stuff blocking the modem in the basement.
A few hours later, Hubby noticed liquid sitting under the modem and some of those boxes. We feared the worst…a leak in the foundation. While I cooked dinner, Hubby cut away the drywall, but no issue immediately stood out. We decided Little Guy would have to move upstairs to his old room so Hubby could tear out the vapour barrier and insulation to find the problem. Bye-bye sewing space.
Sunday morning, after the online service, Hubby wandered down to survey the “scene of the crime”. A few minutes later he yelled up, “Found it”! Although we had peeked in all the boxes, thinking a misplaced juice box spilled or something equally silly, we didn’t check Little Guy’s old hot wheels carrier. Which I had moved the previous morning. Apparenty it’s had food liquifying in it…for potentially…years.
We think it may have been part of a cheeseburger…
Now I have a hole in the basement wall….
Dear Diary – I placed a Christmas order online on Saturday, but when it was processed, my points weren’t applied, as I asked, and I didn’t get my free stuff. So I spent 40 minutes on hold to sort it out. It got sorted…or so I thought.
On Monday, I noticed I was getting emails saying my order was incomplete and my items were going to be released. But when I logged in, my cart was empty. My order was there but said it was being processed. And it still had the wrong amount. And they had charged my credit card the wrong amount.
It was also Cyber Monday.
I waited online to “chat” for almost 2 hours. My friend was here when I started. I had time to drive her home, help her take her groceries to her apartment, and drive home again. I waited on the phone as well for 40 minutes before a cheery someone popped online.
It’s sorted. Supposedly. I’m still waiting for my refund and for an email saying my order has shipped. I expect it will arrive December 27th.
Dear Diary – I know now why most of my baking disasters are, well…disasters. I really need to read the recipes more carefully.
I made raspberry lemon cheesecake squares yesterday. Sort of. I purchased half the amount of cream cheese needed. Did you know that you can substitute yogurt for cream cheese….if you strain it through 2 papertowels…overnight? I didn’t have time to do that. I had already brought my eggs to room temperature. So I tried the same process in a hurry. I started with 1 cup of yogurt. I ended up with 1/4 cup of thicker yogurt, an empty paper towel roll and 3 extra, mucky bowls (and assorted spoons, spatulas, etc.). Then when I put it together, I forgot to cut the other ingredients in half. What resulted was a yummy square, albeit not very tall.
This time I got lucky! But next time… (and you know there will be a next time…)
Dear Diary – I always wondered, at the end of Lord of the Rings, how Samwise Gamgee and Frodo Baggins could bear to part ways. They had experienced things together in an epic battle of good vs. evil, that no one could understand unless they had been there. I know I sound extremely melodramatic here, but I kind of feel like Samwise standing on the shoreline, watching a good friend depart on the next adventure. I want only the best for my friend, but I selfishly wonder how I can carry on, on this side of the shore, on my own.
Dear Diary – Big Guy texted me unexpectedly this morning. All he wrote was “If it doesn’t have a tail…”. Anyone familiar with Veggie Tales will know how easily Larry’s Silly Songs get stuck in your head. It’s in mine, and it’s set on “repeat”.
Dear Diary – This morning, much to Little Guy’s horror, Hubby and I crawled in bed next to him. It’s his birthday! I resisted the urge to sing the traditional “birthday song”…first thing in the morning – I’ll sing it at lunch! He’ll be awake by then!
It’s hard to believe he’s turning 15! He towers over me and smells like a man. Where did my baby go? As we got ready for bed last night, Hubby reminisced about his white knuckle drive to the hospital at 5 a.m. It was snowing and the roads were slick. We passed one car in the ditch. But first, we stopped at Tim Horton’s for his morning coffee.
I imagine my Mom reminisced about her white knuckle drive at midnight. She drove up to stay with Big Guy, even braving all the highways to get here. We shared a cup of tea before she went to bed, some time after 2 a.m. What Moms are willng to do for their kids!
Happy Birthday Little Guy! We love you!
Dear Diary – Why do they always go for the nose? Or the face? Did it think my nose is an exotic cave to be explored? Was there treasure in there? We had one fruit fly that was determined to follow me from room to room to flutter around my face. I looked it up. Fruit flies are attracted to decomposting fruit and veggies, as well as moisture and carbon dioxide. Obviously they aren’t concerned about Covid-19.
Dear Diary – I’ve noticed lately that we have more trains running through town. I’ve also noticed they’re much longer trains. I’ve noticed them every time I’m sitting in a long line of cars waiting at the crossing, counting the cars.
How long, are you asking? Some trains have as many as 7 engines, spread evenly throughout. Last week, instead of walking to the mechanics again, Hubby started to drive me. But, just as we turned the corner when a train came along with 3 engines. I hopped out and sent him home. I tried counting the cars, but it’s a lot harder when they’re rumbling by face. They don’t smell good either.
Dear Diary – I ordered some Christmas presents from Amazon this weekend. I rarely shop online. I prefer to browse in person so I can see it, touch it, smell it, etc. Everything I ordered estimated arrival by Dec. 20. But once I had finished my order, those delivery dates changed to “Dec. 14-Jan. 5”. We may be celebrating Christmas in January.
Dear Diary – I am not short – I am fun-sized!
This week Hubby and Little Guy had fun asking me things like, “how is the weather down there” or “are you cold…because heat rises”, all because I’m “closer to the ground”. Just to add insult to injury, they also asked me, “are you getting shorter”?
Dear Diary – Hubby is on vacay this week and our area is, once again, a Covid “hotspot” and we’ve been returned to Stage 2. It’s modified but means we’re limiting our trips out. Essentials only. So we won’t be shopping this week for a new mattress for me (which Hubby now knows I was going to suggest), or a new couch. I have had a tumultuous relationship with my bed for some time now. As for the couch, it looked like a sack of burlap when we bought it, and it hasn’t improved in the last 20 years. At the time, it was the only one we could both afford and agree on.
Hubby and I have very different tastes when it comes to decorating and furnishing our home. Neither of us is really sure what his style is but he is very sure of what he does not like. We’ve made compromises, the greatest factor, of course, being price! We’ve never argued about money and for that, I am very thankful!
Peope who are frugal understand the value of a dollar and make informed and thoughtful decisions. People who are cheap try to spend as little as possible.
Dear Diary – Hubby needed essentials – lumber to finish repairs in our car port – so I went with him to Home Depot. It’s essential that I buy an iron. Since I was there, I also wanted to pick up some bulbs for my garden (’tis the season for planting), a paint tray (I will get this room painted before Christmas!) and maybe a lamp for Hubby, since Canadian Tire didn’t come through for me last time! Home Depot was also a disappointment. The only thing I could scratch off the list I wrote on my hand in indelible ink was “paint tray”. There were no bulbs. There were no lamps with the extendable arm. And last, but not least, while they sell ironing boards, they do not sell irons in-store. Only online.
I left with my plastic paint tray, a bag of skittles, and a huge chip on my shoulder.
I had hoped to go to the Bulk Barn this week to stock up on baking supplies for Christmas, but Stage 2….
Dear Diary – Hubby fixed the lock on the bathroom door. It’s been broken for 20 years. It only locked once, less than a week after we moved into our first home. I was home alone and without a vehicle. I didn’t know our neighbours. The nearest “restaurant” is at least a 10 minute hike. And had an urgent call of nature, and the door was locked, from the outside.
When you gotta go, you gotta go!
My options were bucket or cat box. I’ll let you decide which one I chose.
Dear Diary – I’ve been bested by a paint can lid! It’s like a car gas tank cap that twists a quarter turn and pops off. Only it doesn’t pop off. It’s the stupidest design invented by man. I gotta get this room painted. Christmas is coming…
Dear Diary – I finally found the duvet cover I washed, ironed and put in “a safe place” last June. How does one lose a queen-sized grey-blue blanket with white elephants? Let me tell you – it wasn’t easy! In the meantime I’ve been huddling under my summer quilt, which coincidentally also has elephants. Come to think of it, I own one pair of pink pjs with elephants. I promise, those are the only elephants in the room.
Dear Diary – I baked butter tarts to thank my friend for helping me a lot of face masks. I’m still sewing but I have significanly depleted the pile “to do” and I’m adding to the pile of “I want to do”. I’ve been trying a new “simple pleated pattern”. Some ladies in my family assured me it was simple, but I’ve been pinning, sewing and ripping it apart for over a week! I showed Hubby my latest result and even he was shaking his head. More at me, than at my creation. What’s lower than a “dummy”, because I could become rich writing how-to books for them.
I need more elastic desperately, but Stage 2…
Also Christmas is coming and it’s not too earlyto start stressing out about it. 🙂
Dear Diary – This past weekend we celebrated Thanksgiving and I was very blessed to be able to go home to do it. My parents and aunt have been part of my “bubble” since the beginning. In fact, I lived with my folks for most of March, all of April and May, and parts of July and August. The only thing that made me sick, from time to time, was too much Discovery channel. But then my Dad could say the same with so much HGTV bingeing! 🙂 Turkey sales were down across the country because smaller gatherings meant less desire for endless days of turkey. Tonight will be Day 5 for us. Hubby didn’t go with me and I provided him a turkey and all the fixings.
The youth group held its first outdoor meeting Friday night, so we drove down Saturday morning. For once, I was up, dressed and packed, waiting for Big Guy to arrive. He arrived with Tim’s! You know how much I love my Timmies! Can you imagine how I suffered in that 2.5 hour car ride with a hot steeped tea sitting beside me, and I can’t touch it? Torture!
I really needed it after I thought I was being pulled over by the police. I was cruising just under 120 km in the driving lane. Now before you judge me, I was neither the fastest nor the slowest car! When I spotted the police cruiser, I was nearly past him. I quickly hit the brake and time slowed down. I saw the car shift into gear and back tire start to move, just as his cherry lights came on. I panicked, and not wanting him to pull into the side of my car, I signalled and switched lanes to pass him. I could see his lights flashing in my peripheral vision, and then the siren started to wail. I wailed, “is he after me? Does he want me to pull over?”. I saw Big Guy’s head turning to the right as the cruiser flew past me…to pull over the navy minivan that had flown by me seconds earlier. Sweet relief!
Knowing holiday weekends are always a flying trip, I wasn’t planning to bring any craft supplies, but it didn’t work out that way. First, while I still haven’t replaced my broken irons, I did restock my fabric pile. Second, my friend still hasn’t stopped selling my masks. She exhausted my supply nearly a week ago, and by the time I arrived at my folks, I had orders for 22 more. My friend called Saturday afternoon and bumped it to 28! I spent a large part of Saturday and Sunday afternoon cutting out pieces. So did my Mom and my Auntie M. Mom made delicious meals; Auntie M baked a delicious green tomato pie! Family always comes through!
Guess what I’ve been doing this week?
The only distraction Sunday afternoon was listening to Big Guy try to do his grandmother’s yoga video. He only yelled at us once because our tittering in the kitchen was louder than the soft-spoken instructor. He yelled at her once too, something about “that’s already the speed I breathe”. Is it possible to breathe wrong?
When I stopped hearing the groans of a dying wildebeest, I peeked to see if he was still alive. He said the video was boring, but he might shop for another one. He must have been bored stupid, because he was watching Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. As for yoga…
Dear Diary – I was all set to paint the new office/craft/spare room, aka My Sanctuary, when I hit my first serious obstacle. I thought packing and moving the majority of “stuff” would be the challenge. I never anticipated not being able to open the paint can! The lid isn’t the standard metal lid I’m used to wrangling, but a rubber cap that was intended to survive a nuclear holocaust. After some intense straining, profuse sweating, and mumbling under the breath, I stormed into my room to be “enlightened” by a Youtube video! How did we ever survive before the internet? The 5 second video demonstrated how to twist and pop a tiny circle in the lid. That resulted in more straining, sweating and growling. I still needed Hubby’s help.
Have you ever tried to stir a quart of paint with a stick in a hole the size of a gas cap? What happens if I don’t clean it well and the paint dries and I never get it open again? Will my room be forever a motley smattering of blue and yellow? Do I really need another can of paint stacked in the laundry room? I know I don’t need a quart-sized paper weight! This is not a good design!
After several days, being unable to work for any definite period of time because I’m old and crippled, the edges in the room have either 1, 2 or 0 layers of paint. It’s a good thing my mind is still intact and I know which is which, or I could be painting edges forever. Having a bed in the room that’s basically…the size of the room…hasn’t helped. I can’t just pick up and move the ladder at whim. It requires forethought and a pair of manly arms, which just aren’t available during the day. The arms, not the forethought, although there are days…
My goal is to get this room painted before the snow flies.
But while the room is going painfully slow, I was able to complete another painting project! Sure there was sweating and grumbling involved too, mostly as I sanded paint off the hinges (who paints hinges!?!?!) and masked the inside. I wasn’t too happy peeling off bugs that wandered in either (I was painting outside), but I’m very happy with the result!
Dear Diary – I found this ad in a Christian music magazine. Whoever made the decision to use this tag line (and the imagery isn’t helping either) really didn’t think it through, did they?
Dear Diary – My friend has been a huge help in selling my face masks. In fact, I have 8 to cut out and sew this weekend. One morning this week, still blurry eyed and tousled after I stumbling out of bed at a respectable hour (after 9 a.m.), Hubby tells me, “D. texted me some questions about masks. I texted her back to ask you. She texted back that she hit the wrong contact”. I started laughing because the day before she was chuckling at another older lady who, within an hour of D. calling her, ends up calling D. accidentally. I told Hubby this and he told me to “have fun with that!”.
D. is quite a character and loves to laugh. She can handle some serious ribbing too, so I texted her “Hey! Old lady, are you hitting on my husband”?
Within a minute, my phone was ringing and we had the biggest laugh. That isn’t such a bad way to start a day! And I will definately be bringing it up again! 🙂
Dear Diary – I was asked to not be late again posting my weekly diary post…I guess that means someone is reading it! Hurray!!!!! Love you Mom! xoxo
Behind every young child who believes in himself is a parent who believed first. – Matthew Jacobson
Dear Diary – As part of the final “hurrah” of summer, we watched the production, Esther, live-streamed from The Sight & Sound Theatre in Pennsylvania. It was fantastic and we really enjoyed it, up until the climax when our internet started buffering and the screen froze. We waited for an hour, hoping it would sort itself out. We know how the story ends, but it was still disappointing.
The day I left, I had to first record myself singing and playing the piano for Sunday’s worship service. Our church has just opened, but for a few weeks, the service will still be pre-recorded, especially as so many have elected to continue to worship online.
It went well for the most part. I only had to restart the last song seven times (once was because I hit the wrong note on the last chord). I used Mom’s keyboard, propping my music and phone on her piano behind the keyboard; the phone only fell off twice. Unlike a boy scout, I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t brought “church clothes” when I came, so had to settle for a white blouse covered in little watermelons. I should have paid more attention to my own “melons” which were modestly covered, but still too prominant in the frame and not in a flattering manner. Also, I was looking above the phone, not at it, because I reading the music…and the words, which I occasionally got wrong.
I talked to the pastor after I uploaded it (but not about my melons – that would be inappropriate) and I thought we had decided to leave my face for the reading at the beginning, then switch to blank screens with the words. He would add guitar and harmony; there would be sound, but not sight.
I don’t know what happened between Tuesday evening and Sunday morning, but there I was, full frontal, singing over everyone’s heads. I cringed for the full 10 minutes. Note to self: Be prepared for everything!
Dear Diary – I seriously need to find a hobby that doesn’t require so much “stuff”. It only took me an hour to make this much mess (and that doesn’t include my tiny desk)!
Dear Diary – So school started last Thursday. By Wednesday evening, we still had no idea what courses Little Guy had, what time he was supposed to log on for virtual school, or where to log on. I was receiving frantic texts from another Mom at such a rate, I thought my phone was going to explode. Little Guy logged into the system and his schedule listed 8 courses for Sept-Feb…It’s a semester system and there are only 4 periods per semester. By 8 p.m. he had received 1 email from one teacher. By noon Thursday, 3 emails. Around 2 p.m. he received the final email, which was for his first period class. But “class” had started at 12:30. Guess he missed it?
It was not an auspicious beginning.
Hubby, in the meantime, hasn’t taken time off in the summer like the rest of us. He’s struggling to find the motivation to work. Me too. The house is a disaster, the garden is overgrown. Even our little red squirrel has moved out! I’ve developed some bad habits during lockdown too.
I was in my kitchen washing dishes when I realized – I’m late for Facebook!
Good news! We’re still eating.
My friend and I went grocery shopping the day after I arrived home. To say I was “in a mood” would be a gross understatement. But I warned her.
Anyway, I finally had a good experience at the store. My cashier was sweet and soft-spoken. She told me about the store specials. She offered to help me pack my bags (which they aren’t doing in most stores). And she even gave me an extra bag for my eggs and she didn’t charge me. I left feeling in a much better humour.
After we put groceries away at both our homes, we picked up Tim’s and went for a walk in Tim’s neighbourhood (since park loos are still closed and you just never know…) This Tim’s is in a plaza, which includes a grocery store. We were stopped at the light, when my friend noticed a guy waiting at the light with burger buns on the roof of his car. Others were noticing too and honking their horns. As my friend darted into the intersection to stop him, the guy turning right also stopped to flag down the burger bun dude too. I was shocked that so many people were piping up to help. As my friend walked back, another car (turning on the red light) honked at her for being there. My friend, who is NOT shy, threw her arms in the air and yelled “give me a break”. Then she pointed at the guy getting back in his car, with a bag of burger buns. This woman actually stopped, rolled down her window and apologized profusely, thanking my friend for helping this dude. And the car….was a Mercedes! I’m not saying all Mercedes drivers’ are jerks, but I’ve met more than my fair share of “I own the road, you despicable paeon, get out of my way!”, so much so that this merited mentioning.
Buns were saved that day!
p.s. The last Mercedes I saw and noted, was weaving through holiday traffic….and a few minutes later we passed him pulled over by the cops! I cheered. Little Guy glared at me. He didn’t understand my joy at this guy’s misfortune (even if he was being a dangerous jerk). Wait until he becomes a driver…
Mother Nature is so providential. She gives us 12 years to develop a love for our children before turning them into teenagers. – William Galvin