Dear Diary-This week I watched a short (& hilarious) YouTube video on hummingbirds. The most ridiculous thing was their mating ritual. Males will fly high over the female and perform a series of courtship dives. But as they swoop over the female, special feathers on their tail flutter, creating a unique sound that sounds like…a fart! Romantic “butt” farts? Apparently! But before any guys reading this cheer in celebration, let me be clear on behalf of your mates. It’s only romantic to hummingbirds. We may turn it into a joke or laugh (because when it comes to bathroom jokes and body noises, we are all still 11 inside), but in no way does it make it “randy baby”.
Dear Diary – I was looking forward to it, but once again, my angry ankle made me doubt my ability to withstand the walking tour…in 30C heat. So Eldest Son and my father went to see the WWII former bombing and gunnery school without out me. This base trained approximately 131,553 aircrew, including pilots, wireless operators, air gunners, and navigators for the Air Forces of Great Britain, Australia, New Zealand and Canada. It was decommissioned in 1969 and essentially abandoned for years. But it’s in the process of being restored, it’s stories being shared, and I think it’s a piece of history worth saving. Dad works part-time at a flying club, whose hangar and buildings was also used to train during the wars. It’s so cool to wander inside where evidence still exists of an era gone by, and see photos of this once bustling destination.
I told them they had to take photos…I really liked these ones of the barracks.
While the boys were out (and Youngest was still sleeping, his favourite activity these days), Mom and I went shopping. We bought important things, like butter tarts and a bathing suit for Eldest Son.
Though the label said the suit was large, it was a youth’s large. He couldn’t get it past his knees.
After the butter tarts, we all needed a large.
Dear Diary – A Pluviophile is a lover of rain, one who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days. And there are days when I certainly enjoy being “stuck inside” or sitting on my back porch listening to it.
Not so much when you’re on vacation, and Eldest Son was with us for only a few days. Eldest Son, Youngest Son and I descended on my folks last week. We brought food, games, and our childlike wonder (or childish antics – read that how you will). As a Mama, I’m happiest when I have my kids with me.
We’ve played Ticket to Ride, Slay, and Carcassone, and we’re all still talking to each other.
There have been a few trips to dollerama. We read our books, snoozed, snacked, and started the new series, House of Dragons. One night we sat by the fire table until the mosquitoes found us.
Youngest mostly slept. I think he’s trying to ignore the start of school, which he will have to attend in person if he is to get the credits he needs to apply for university next Spring.
One afternoon, it had rained so hard that the planter box I gave Mom for her birthday was overflowing! It was wet outside! It was wet inside too. Eldest Son brought his camp stove in to clean it at the kitchen sink. He didn’t realize that after several hours, it wasn’t fully drained and poured water all over on floor. Mom just laughed…she had cleaned the floor the day before. Eldest Son used the mop to dry feet, so he could rescue his burning eggs.
He’s inherited my “bad luck”.
The boys entertained us as we listened to them making dinner: spaghetti!
Eldest Son started making waffles too…somehow I ended up cooking them…
We also celebrated Mom’s belated birthday (with Auntie M before she went on her own big holiday) with my homemade lemon chiffon cake:
Even the hummingbird got sick of the rain. We sneaked out between thundering rain (and sometimes thunder) for a swim one afternoon, much to the distress of a female cardinal. We thought she was searching for her missing teen. Eldest Son discovered later that she actually had a nest in the wild rose bush right beside the pool, and we were disturbing her.
She had no idea just how disturbed she’d be the next day.
It was sunny on our final full day together and we had big plans…or rather, the guys had big plans…to topple a tree. My job was simply to record it. And maybe pick up sticks.
This rotten pine tree has been a favourite of the neighbourhood flocks, particularly the woodpecker! The trunk was studded with more holes than brown pine needles, and it desperately needed to come down before it came down on it’s own volition. Eldest Son had to remove every branch with his handsaw before tying a rope to the top. Once expertly notched at the base, Dad gently pulled the tree. It slowly leaned, crackling and snapping, and pausing halfway down for dramatic effect, before the final anti-climatic thud.
Traditionally, we have celebrated the end of summer with a DQ Blizzard, so we surprised my parents with them in the afternoon.
Before dinner, the boys and I tackled Eldest Son’s car. Youngest Son couldn’t help commenting on the amount of hair (and fries) in the car. I reminded him that when you look like Chewbacca, there’s bound to be a lot of hair. While he stood on his head to retrieve food wrappers and coffee cups under the seats, I emptied and washed the console. Did you know that coffee + heat+ sawdust creates a thin”coffee” gelee disk? Yummy! I washed the gummy change too.
By evening, we were hot and tired. Eldest Son and I hopped in the pool and washed the sky fade from pink to mauve. All the birds ceased their evening chatter, except Mama cardinal who was highly offended by our presence, and simply enjoyed this moment of peace.
But the party is over! While Youngest Son and I will stay on, Eldest Son is packed and heading home. He has 5 loads of clean laundry, a clean cook stove, a clean car, and a clean body (we cleaned the pool cover this morning. It no longer smells!). We’ll miss him, of course, but will focus instead on being thankful that we have one another.
Here’s to the twilight, here’s to the memoriesSwitchfoot, Souvenirs
These are my souvenirs, my mental pictures of everything
Here’s to the late nights, here’s to the firelight
These are my souvenirs
Last Summer, Eldest Son and I sampled a couple types of hard iced teas during our week-long vacay at my folks, for research purposes. Hey – I can’t write about it if I haven’t tried it! Obviously a “hardened” tea isn’t for everyone, and lots of people have their reasons for abstaining. It’s certainly not something I imbibe on a regular basis, but it warranted a taste nonetheless.
We started with the most popular: Twisted Tea.
Twisted tea is a non-carbonated hard iced malt tea beverage made with black tea. It also contains sugar cane or honey, real lemon, ice and alcohol: beer and vodka. After it’s Original debut, the company came out with a number of other flavours: peach, blackberry, blueberry and mango. They also make a light version which has lower alcohol content, and half and half, which is half twisted tea and half lemonade.
In addition to the addition of alcohol, there’s another twist. Hard iced tea was first manufactured by mega-brand The Boston Beer Company in 2001…in Cinncinati, Ohio. It’s imported to Canada. It is 5% alcohol and 30mg of caffeine, so it provides a bit of a kick. I also found it quite sweet.
Don’t worry – I shared the can with Eldest Son and no Upwords tiles were harmed in the making of this blog post (but apparently I spelled “I Dig Tea” wrong)!
Hey Y’All is a “southern style” hard iced tea, brewed with selected black tea and lightly sweetened with pure cane sugar. It’s manufactured by the Hey Y’All Southern Tea Company in Vancouver, British Columbia, so it’s only available in Canada…and Bermuda! Vodka is the alcohol of choice! Other flavours include: raspberry, mango, Kentucky blueberry, Florida citrus, Georgia Peach, Mai Tai, Half and Half, and Southern Style.
They claim it has an “authentic old-fashioned ice tea flavour without the heavy sweetness. Well balanced and flavourful with a smooth finish”. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Between the two, I actually preferred Hey Y’All because it had a stronger tea flavour and wasn’t as sweet.
Both companies recommend not keeping it in the fridge because temperature can affect the taste of tea over time. Rather, store it in a cool, dark place and serve it in a glass with fresh, crisp ice cubes.
They didn’t say anything about serving it this way! Stay cool and have a Happy Monday!!
Mama said there’ll be days like this,The Shirelles, Mama Said
There’ll be days like this mama said.
Peaches are coming into season soon, and I love the sweetness, tartness…and juiciness of a fresh, sun-ripened peach. Peach pairs well with ginger, so this morning as I prepared to put the finishing touches on my Dad’s wood-working project for my kitchen, I poured myself a cup of President’s Choice Ginger Peach tea.
Don’t let the brand fool you. Not all less expensive teas are “ less than”. This little sachet was flavourful – sweet and a little spicy (like yours truly)! The colour is an inviting rosy shade and the fragrance made my mouth water. The ginger was tempered so it provided heat without overwhelming the palate. True, it has a slight acidic and artificial flavour to it, but most peach teas do, and this was not obnoxiously so.
Peach is one of those fruits that don’t dehydrate well and the leaves aren’t peach flavoured. This tea is an herbal infusion, so no caffeine. It’s comprised of apple, blackberry leaves, citric acid, ginger root, hibiscus petals, rose hips, roasted chicory root, and natural flavours. It is definitely higher on the list of other peach teas I’ve tried, and like many others, I think it would make a fantastic iced tea for hot summer afternoons.
Especially with a good book or after a nap!
Dear Diary – I knew all those games of Operation would pay off one day!
On Friday morning, after I dropped my car off to deal with the whistle-wonk sounds my car’s been making for weeks, I got ambitious. I dusted and swept the main floor, backed up and updated my laptop, caught up with an old friend on the phone, and emptied the shredder for the next round.
But I emptied the bin into the green bin (compost) on the counter, and wouldn’t you know, one tiny slip of paper drifted into an open vent on the base of my new air fryer.
Thus ensued a sick and sweaty 20 minute game of Operation, with not one, but 3 tweezers. I didn’t leave the air fryer plugged in though, you know, to make it more authentic. 😉
Dear Diary – The other day, Mr. Cardinal was pipping furiously. I think it was Morse code.
..-. . . -.. / — .Feed Me
Dear Diary – I led worship a couple Sundays ago and vainly attempted to look slender in my new dress. Our pastors are currently speaking a series on the Armour of God. I have also shared from the same passage in Ephesians at a ladies’ event, but I used my own humourous twist in my examples of armour. Only this morning, my “armour” (aka corset) was not holding up!
It wasn’t the only thing.
Something had happened to the headset mic purchased to capture my itty-bitty intoning, so I had to use a boom stand. I don’t like them because there’s no happy middle ground. Either the A/V guys are unhappy because they can’t hear me…or I’m unhappy because there’s a mic stand blocking my view of either the sheet music or the piano keys.
Accomplished pianists play from memory. I am not an accomplished pianist.
Hubby was doing sound and together we found that comfortable middle ground…rather unharmoniously.
Something happened between rehearsal and service time. My mic was attached to a sinking stand, and was nearly resting on my clinging cleavage. Not only would it make it incredibly difficult for Hubby to pick up my crooning, but it also blocked both the keyboard and the bottom half of my sheetmusic, and in my mind, accentuated the straining lingerie. I knew it was straining because I could feel the bent boning digging into my ribcage.
With a sweet smile, I started talking and reached up to return the arm of the stand back where it belonged. In addition to bent boning, I could feel sweat welling up in my underarms. But while I managed to secure the mic higher, it refused to remain in position and the bolt to tighten it was immoveable. So was my determination. The service had started. I was going to keep smiling (and sweating) and we were going to sing.
I played and sang again this past Sunday. Someone took pity on me…and the saggy stand has become someone else’s problem.
Dear Diary – It has been a summer of firsts. Well, a couple firsts. Earlier in July, I sang at my first wedding. This past weekend, I played at my first funeral. I even broke out my little black dress. I can still zip it up but the lines hug some of my curves differently. It went well, from my perspective. I greatly appreciated the tall flower displays that partially hid me, as I felt very self-conscious standing on the platform without teammates. And I am very thankful I didn’t fall up or down the stairs.
I even wore heels. Just not to the funeral…or out of the bedroom.
I miss my heels.
Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world.Marilyn Monroe
Dear Diary – I have definitely raised a city kid. This week we braved the heat to pick up rotting apples from our back yard. It’s the downside to owning an apple tree, but I love the blossoms in the Spring. And every tree deserves to live!
In past years, Youngest Son has used a stick to stab them. Unfortunately, these apples have sat longer than they should have, so while they may look solid, picking them up with anything but a feather touch spells disaster. The stick was useless. Rather than argue, I told him to pick up the fresh, red ones and I would deal with the goopy ones.
There was something satisfying about the “splat” they made as I tossed into recycle bins and old garbage cans. For every one he picked up, I picked up more than a dozen. He objected to the smell; it reminded me of apple cider. He slipped and slid once; I laughed. I got apple on my leggings. He thought that was gross.
He would not survive on a farm. Not even a hobby farm!
But he could muscle the barely filled bins and cans to the curb for me, and we nearly completed clearing the yard of the apples that were not soup.
I slept in a bit the following morning. The sun was shining when I got up. I pulled on my robe and opened the curtains. I laughed.
I laughed hard.
The yard truck crew had left me a surprise… again!
Not only was it perfectly balanced…it was perfectly balanced over my head.
I left it, hoping it would last until I could drag Youngest Son from his slumber to take a photo. But, alas! Some “mean kid” punched it on his way by and it collapsed into the street. I had to retrieve them, close-mouthed, to avoid ingesting the cloud of fruit flies.
We don’t stop playing because we grow old.G.B. Shaw
We grow old because we stop playing.
Dear Diary – I really thought I had packed everything, but within 24 hours I quickly discovered I forgot something crucial: razors, and without them, I would soon be a sunbathing yeti. I may soon have to pick up a new bathing suit too. Getting into mine is like trying to stuff pork into a sausage casing.
It’s not a pretty sight!
Dear Diary – We took a mini tour of local history on Thursday. Mom and I met Aunt Mary for a tour of the newly renovated Country Store, now home to a local insurance company. Both my grandparents had worked for this company, Nana taking over for Papa when his health deteriorated. He was so proud of her. Inevitably, when I was visiting in the summer, Nana would have business to conduct at a nearby farm and I was dragged along, with a pile of books to entertain me.
This mutual fire insurance company began in the pioneering years after Confederation (1876) by farmers create a co-operative insurance company to help protect them from property and livestock losses due to fire. Years ago an older lady who attended Mom’s church shared a memory of standing in the lake to escape a devastating fire. These companies pulled together to help rebuild her northern community.
The insurance recently undertook a massive renovation to the local “country store”, incorporating tin from the roof in the interior, and wood and brick from a large local furniture business that had operated in town for 173 years.
Even the silos gave a nod to the town’s heritage:
After our tour, we walked a block to what also used to be an iconic institution in town, the local bakery. Len’s Bakery had the best chocolate dip doughnuts in town. I can remember Dad bringing home tiny vanilla cakes covered in raspberry jam and coconut, and topped with buttercream and jam. Len sold his business a few years ago and the interior received an update from it’s 1950s style.
They make those same little raspberry coconut-covered cakes. Mmm…
Dear Diary –
What I said: Tomorrow I’m spreading out and sewing, people!
What Youngest Son heard: i’m spreading out and sewing people!
Punctuation is important!
Dear Diary – Mom pulled out a box of binders and newspaper clippings for me to sort through. At least 95% should have been tossed in a recycle box years ago. I found the “files” from Detective Club I formed with my best friends in Grade 3, figure skating programs, report cards, ticket stubs, and lots of poems and short stories I had written. I read a few and recognized the influence from books and t.v. shows I adored as a kid. Princess Tara: Child of the Sun was definately a mash-up of fantasy and Little House on the Prairie!
Dear Diary – Tuesday night, it was Youngest Son’s turn to worry about “the kids” being out so late! Dad, Mom and I went to the Drive-In to see Minions and Top Gun!
This drive-in was nothing like the one I attended as a kid. There was a screen…white metal roofing and wodden posts. The lot was behind an industrial office-type building but the gravel was raked to lift the front of the car for better viewing. And the ticket booth, was a school bus with Christmas lights. But none of it stole the excitement of this summer adventure!
The only thing that threatened to dampen the adventure was our soggy clothes. With it feeling like 35C outside, you can just imagine how steamy it got in a closed car. We tried opening the sun roof but that only let the mosquitoes in. Since there were only 5 cars in the lot, we did run the air conditioning briefly a couple times during the two shows, before Mom passed out in the back.
We bought cold pop at the small concession stand. The chocolate bar I brought was a puddle.
When we got home at 1:45, Youngest Son was still up. The house reeked of bug spray, and the living room floor was dotted with upside-down cups and votive candles. He had spent the last 5 hours “chasing bugs” and he wished he had gone with us instead.
The movies were what I expected…big-hearted yellow guys and high-action airplanes…but neither will leave the same mark as our big night out!
Every time I have a date there’s only one place to go, That’s to the drive inBeach Boys, Drive-In
It’s such a groovy place to talk and maybe watch a show, Down at the drive in!
Dear Diary – I never did hear from the bank. So around 1:30 Thursday afternoon, Youngest Son and I headed over to open a bank account for him.
It nearly didn’t happen.
After a long wait in line, I explained the reason for our visit and passed on our supporting documents. The teller then rather bluntly informed me of two things: he needed photo id and an appointment. His govenment issued photo id health card was not acceptable. I politely replied that I had called in the morning to see what he needed and never received a reply to my voicemail. I asked, “how do I to make an appointment and what is a 16 year old with no current passport or driver’s license supposed to use as photo id?”.
I then proceeded to stare her down.
Shortly thereafter, we were whisked into an office with another banker, and the process was completed with smiles and sweetness.
Now if he could just get his contract and pay check from his boss, we’d be all set!
Dear Diary – In advance of my running
away from home holiday, I prepared a meal plan and got groceries for Hubby. Yes, I spoil him!
Both Hubby and Youngest Son helped to bring them in, since Hubby came home to work. With a large Rogers “blackout” he had no internet connection in the office.
Youngest Son noticed the entire side of the styrofoam tray holding a whole chicken was demolished.
“That’s a big bird. It crushed the package”, he said
“Yeah,” I said, “must have been an angry bird!”.
Dear Diary – Saturday was another hot and sunny day but I got to spend part of it attending a wedding rehearsal in a gorgeous backyard. My only job that day was to take notes for “the band”.
I didn’t need to take notes. The officiant was so efficient, that he had a 2 page order of service with meticulous notes…that had meticulous notes. In ridiculously small font. In fact, it was so meticulously detailed, it actually confused people. It took us over an hour just to read through it together as a group.
Then we ran through the whole thing (minus details like reading the vows and the 20 minute sermon)…twice!
I think it was the longest wedding rehearsal not at the venue in the history of wedding rehearsals. But then, I haven’t attended them all. My friend, the bride, was positively radiant. I’m so happy for her, and I would gladly sit through hours of rehearsal, just for her!
Dear Diary – I laughed at a Facebook memory today, from Vacation Bible Camp, 2009:
This week my name is “Jellybean” and I sail on the good ship “Lollipop” with Captain Kitty Kat.
Dear Diary – My friend is getting married!!!
Sunshine burst through the curtains Monday morning and I was filled with excitement and nervousness. Not only was my friend getting married, but she had asked me to sing at her wedding.
I have never sung at a major event before, not even for the seniors’ group at my former church. Surely she knew half a dozen other vocalists who would easily put my performance to shame? But she was adamant and sincere in her request. Plus she’s the bride. I was deeply honoured to sing for her.
I first met the bride a few years ago at church, and we quickly became friends. She is an outgoing, bubbly, fun and contageously joyful person. All the time. Even when she’s exhausted. She loves the Lord and she loves people. I got to encourage her as a new musician to worship teams, and she encouraged me back. She often dropped by on her lunch hour when I worked in the Cubicle of Purgatory, frequently with Tim’s tea for me. We’d talk about our jobs, our families, her social life, and of course, boys! I assured her repeatedly that he was out there and he would be SO worth the wait!
And he was!
I spent the morning fussing with my hair, applying
paint to the barn make-up, and lamenting never finding a new dress. My friend, guitarist, and ride would be picking me up at 12:30.
By 12:40 I was beginning to wonder if he had forgotten me. When he called, he regaled me with the story of his morning. A member of his family had tested positive for covid, which cancelled golfing and instead he was helping to rearrange their home and lives for the foreseeable future. I texted the pianist that we were running late, and waited by the door.
We flew down the highway like 2 masked bandits running from the law, with the truck windows down. I was thankful I had spent all that time fussing with my hair!
The bride was absolutely radiant in a blush lace and tulle gown, which sparkled almost as much as she did! Her eyes never left her sweetheart’s face, and during the vows, she was rocking, so filled with joy she could hardly stand still.
I sang during the signing of the register. The officiant had actually shortened the medley I was asked to sing, which became a problem when the signing went on and on. The wedding planner, with wide eyes, kept waving her hands at us to continue. But the three of us are seasoned church musicians and have encountered more than one long-winded minister, and so we comfortably navigated between the two pieces easily. No one knew the difference.
I also sang for the recessional, but because the venue was in a large white tent outdoors, only the couple, parents, and small entourage walked down the aisle, and they were forced to listen to me belt out longer than necessary. It wasn’t a song I could just wrap in a moment’s notice.
By the end, of the cocktail hour, we had all nearly melted in the heat. Facemasks didn’t help, and in a crowd of 200, only 4 of us were wearing one. Fortunately, I was sitting with friends, one of whom was very good at catching the servers’ eye, so we got to sample all the hors d’ouevres. Well, they did. Most of them had fish or shellfish, which I can’t eat, but they looked delicious!
Dinner was also delicious: a mixed green salad with roasted tomatoes, poached pears and toasted almonds, followed by lemon and thyme cornish hen, red wine braised short ribs, mascarpone mashed potatoes, and grilled vegetables. Having noted I was lactose intolerant, I was given sherbet for dessert, instead of an apple blossom with butterscotch caramel and ice cream. BUT, not only did the friend at my table text photos of each plate to his family members who were unable to attend, he managed to snag an extra dessert, which he shared with me. I got the apple blossom – he got the ice cream.
Once the bride posts photos, I will too!
I always wanted a daughter, and I believe in a loving God. He doesn’t plant dreams in our hearts that He is unwilling to fill, and so my friend has sometimes felt like a daughter to me. I have prayed with her and for her. We have mourned and laughed together. At times, I have offered a little “motherly” advice and given her all my love. I’m so happy and excited for her. My beautiful girl is married!
[Love] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.1 Corinthians 13: 7-8
Dear Diary – The moon was orange and full, in stark contrast to the darkening sky. Youngest Son in the car beside me, tried to snap photos, as we travelled home. I think he captured it well…behind every tree.
Home is 2 places to me. Buildings, yes, but much more than plaster and brick. Home is the place where the people I love most abide. And for a few days, I am going home to be with my folks.
Youngest son’s new job is entirely online so he is free to join me.
I remembered everything when I was packing. Except that after I packed and loaded my suitcase in the car, I realized I had packed Hubby’s toothbrush, not Youngest Son’s. I made the switch! Only to find out that night that I had, in fact, not packed Youngest Son’s toothbrush. I had packed Oldest Son’s toothbrush instead.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me!
Except this time I am entirely to blame!
Today I am writing to you in my pjs, on the deck, enjoying bird song and sunshine. Am I too hot? Absolutely! Am I moving? Not a chance!
Family is where life begins and love never ends!Unknown
Happy belated Canada Day, or if you’re a friend in the USA, Happy Independence Day!
Usually I savour a cup of Canadian Breakfast tea to start the holidays on the first of July, and I did savour one later, but this year I turned to an old favourite: Cardamom French Toast. It disappeared from David’s Tea menu awhile back, but it’s back!
This tea is a black tea which includes cinnamon, lemon peel, coriander seeds, green cardamom pods, coconut sugar, and cane sugar. It’s a moderate caffeine so not a bad starter in the morning. Just like its name suggests, it is sweet, aromatic, and decadent…like French Toast.
I’m still recovering from the Death Flu (not covid, thank goodness), and it kinda stole my taste for tea. I’m sure it will come back, and it’s not all bad because it has cut my caffeine consumption considerably. I’m replacing it with plain old water, and the occasional cup of orange juice for the vitamin C.
Vitamin C is a natural diuretic, and is known for its cleansing properties. It’s vital to healing and as an antioxidant, protects cells against heart disease, cancer and other diseases. Vitamin C helps your body absorb and store iron, and is a necessity for the formation of blood vessels, cartilage, muscle and collagen in bones.
The colour was a bright yellow and the strongest aroma was grapefruit. I found it bright and invigorating, with the tart and slightly bitterness of citrus fruit, and in this particular case, grapefruit! I don’t like teas that taste like soap or perfume, but this had a lovel, light floral note that enhanced the citrus flavours. The second cup I made was steeped for a very long time (I got busy and forgot about it), so it was quite bitter, so maybe don’t do that unless you like your grapefruit strong and sour.
This tea was enjoyable both as hot and an iced tea (and I tried it as an iced tea, not just as the cold tea I left on the counter)! I think it will be quite refreshing in the summer months.
This tea was gifted to me by a sweet friend (actually, her Hubby shopped for it and he has excellent taste in tea…and women)! It reminds me of Tetley’s Citrus Kiss, which was lemon and grapefuit with a green tea base. Both were delicious but I think I prefer the unique pairing of grapefruit and floral with an oolong base because it had more depth to the tea overall. Plus none of the grassy notes that can come through in green tea, or the bitterness from oversteeping green tea.
Spring arrived while I was sleeping, but I’m wide awake now and soaking in the sunshine. At least I did this weekend. It’s raining today. Citrus Burst is definitely going in my summer favs list as my tastebuds turn to all-things fruity and fun! Happy Monday!
I’m gonna soak up the sunSheryl Crow, Soak Up the Sun
I’m gonna tell everyone to lighten up
Dear Diary – I watched Big Guy folding a fitted sheet with horror. I know I taught him how to do it without stretching it across the floor, mainly because I don’t trust what’s on the floor of his apartment. In fact, it’s been less than 12 months since I gave both of my boys a demonstration! When I pointed this out to him, he gave me the lamest excuse: “I’m too short”. I’m way shorter! At only 5′ 1-1/2″ (and the 1/2″ is important), I can still figure out how to make miracles happen!
It’s an appropriate excuse when you’re 12 and your father’s co-worker said you could have ice cream cone if you could reach it (or if you’re caught climbing the bottom shelf at the grocery store because the item you need is at the pinnacle). But folding a sheet?
Can I use this excuse too?
Hubby: Why did the potatoes boil dry?
Me: Because I’m too short.
Hubby: There are enough cracker crumbs on this rug to bread chicken. Someone should vaccuum it.
Me: Not me! I’m too short!
Bed sheets should not be folded on the floor. Ever. But is it the lamest excuse ever, or pure genius? It’s starting to grow on me!
Dear Diary – Walking the last mile to September means thinking ahead to my responsabilities at home. Ugh! I still planned meals and procured produce for Hubby for those weeks I was away this summer. It’s time to boost my self-esteem by fattening him up again. Not really, but we do have to eat, so I made a trip to the local frozen food store. With grocery costs creeping ever higher, any steps to stay in budget are worth it.
While I thought ahead about what to pick up, I didn’t think ahead when I parked at a distance. It meant I had to wrestle my full cart down a steep curb and trail it, wonky wheel wobbling, across the parched parking lot. The lot sloped toward my car, so I needed one hand to hold it while I scrabbled with the other to grab my keys. My keys, however, were firmly lodged between the metal bars. It took two hands, a foot and a lot of straining and straddling to set them free.
With the car door finally open, I had to face the next challenge. The lovely cashier tried to make my job easier, by packing my entire cartload into one box. One large cardboard box that I had slid into the cart at a rakish angle, because it was too large to fit in the cart! Praying I didn’t break the leg that was now a post through the bottom of the cart to keep it from running away, I heaved the box up the side of the cart until it was balanced precariously along the top bars. That’s when I realized I was on the wrong side of the cart to ease the box into the car and the cart was blocking the door from opening. There could only be one winner, so a sexy tango ensued to right the wrongs.
As I was spinning oh SO not elegantly, I noticed a graying biker dude in a big, black pick-up truck enjoying my dilemma. “I hope he’s enjoying the show”, I thought, as I hooked my toe around the cart’s undercarriage and lifted the box.
My load was exactly halfway into the backseat when the wind caught my skirt and tossed it unceremoniosly over my head. If that biker dude was still watching, he got quite the eye-full…of my sad, white granny panties. You know the ones I’m talking about – with the stretched out elastic and the “not so white” hue, and you only keep them because you need something to wear when the laundry pile has grown too large? There was nothing to do but to keep bending forward until I could drop the box and run.
But I couldn’t run. It would be rude to abandon my cart in the middle of the parking lot, even if my face was burning brighter than the sun. So, with what dignity I could muster, I proudly marched my cart with the wonky wheel across that parched parking lot and hauled ‘er up the curb again. I walked back to my car with my head held high, and my hands cupping my buttocks. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do!
Dear Diary – September started and it felt like the thermostat was suddenly turned down. On Sunday, it was damp and rainy. It was as if weather could sense our spirits as the end of our week-long family holiday neared. It was such a change in weather that when I got home from church, I changed out of my sundress into a hoodie and leggings. I even asked Mom if I could warm my hands in the soup?
She said “no”.
It had been a great week. We stayed up too late and rolled out late. We enjoyed rousing games in the evening, and quiet conversation over coffee or tea in the mornings. We went swimming a few times, and took time to read quietly in the shade. We treated Mom and Dad to A&W one night for dinner, and made the long drive back to the restaurant when they failed to give us all the food we ordered. And we went on a ghost walk followed by late night fancy doughnuts from Tim’s.
One afternoon Big Guy and Little Guy headed into the backyard for a climbing lesson. I watched from as distance as the youngest, now taller than his older brother, strapped on equipment that looked like it weighed more than he did. I took lots of photos and cheered as he slowly ascended the oak. He didn’t get very far because it’s far more difficult than one can imagine. Not only is it a serious workout, but it requires a lot of coordination and skill. I thoroughly enjoyed watching my guys, 16 years apart, hanging out!
A sibling is part blood, part rival, part coach, and forever friend.Unknown
Dear Diary – You know you’re getting old when your sons have to help you get undressed. Sort of. I got stuck in my wet t-shirt after I got out of the pool. It had rolled up behind my head, and while I’m regaining the use of my shoulder, the edge of the shirt was just out of reach. Still, it bodes well for the future that they’ll jump to my aid when I need it.
Dear Diary – It was a gift and rare delight that transported me back to childhood. My Mom’s neighbour arrived on our doorstep one morning with potatoes, carrots and watermelon from his garden. The watermelon was not only deliciously sweet, but it had real watermelon seeds! What’s so terrible about watermelon seeds any way? All the watermelons from grocery stores are “seedless”, robbing children of the joy of spitting seeds in the lawn (or at each other). I relished the pleasure of spitting seeds this week, but not at anyone…even though I was sorely tempted. 😉
Dear Diary – Every now and then, Hubby and I will look at houses online in different communities. We currently live hours between our oldest to the west, and our folks to the east, so even if we could move, which way do we go? One evening, Hubby sent a few links to houses in my hometown. On a whim and even though it was getting late, my parents, Little Guy and I piled into the car and drove around town to look at them. Dad drove into neighbourhoods that I used to walk through on my way to school, and the trip turned into a walk down memory lane. We ended it at Dairy Queen before heading home for a card game. Which I lost.
One of the houses was right around the corner from where my grandparents lived. My brother and I would take our little lunches to their house and we’d watch The Flintstones, Rocket Robinhood. or Spiderman. Sometimes Nana made KD or hot dogs. I’m not sure I could live that close to memories. I miss them.
As a teenager, I longed for life outside of my small town, and after very few years in the big city, I desperately wanted to come home again. I know even if I was able to move back, I can never go “home” again. Everything is so very different and so much is still the same.
Chase our dreams but always know the road that will lead you home again.Tim McGraw
Dear Diary – A dark shadow was on the horizon last night: school starts today. Unless you’re in grade 11 or 12. Then it begins tomorrow!
I”m not ready for this…