Gone to the Dogs

Luck and Wisdom

2011-06-17T10:11:00.000-04:00

Yesterday it was pure luck that I showed a visitor the baby robins that are nesting on the ladder. One had fallen out of the nest onto the aluminum step. The mother bird was in a nearby tree scolding as we used burdock leaves to hide our scent as we replaced him in the nest. I try to stay away from the nest as much as possible so it really was fortuitous that I saw the problem before it became impossible to solve. God, baby birds are ugly at this stage ... all beak with almost naked bodies. The few straggly down hairs just make them look less warm blooded. Only a mother bird could find them beautiful, I think. I don't like watching hearts beat under such a fragile covering.

It was also pure luck that allowed us to discover the tick on Kenya before the necessary 2-3 days had elapsed which could have allowed the tick to pass on Lyme disease. The vet dealt with it by saturating it with tick and flea poison, allowing a few minutes for it to die and then using tweezers to remove the entire tick intact. He didn't charge me, likely because Kenya's meds this year did nothing for ticks. Instead he told me to bring back the remaining meds and exchange them for meds that would work well. I say it was luck because long haired dogs are harder to examine and this tick was near her mouth where the hair is short. When I returned to pick up the Advantix, I learned that we have a real tick infestation up here in these hills. I had to wait to get the medication because so many dogs had been brought in with ticks in the past two or three days. The vet told me he'd had to remove one from his wife's leg the day before! That tick had been sent to a lab for testing for Lyme disease.

I had my chimney swept for the first time ... and it wasn't even dirty!

Another friend is visiting this weekend ... we haven't gotten together for ages ... and I am looking forward to spending time with her. I hadn't seen nearly enough of Tamarack either and it was good to at least go shopping at Ikea with her and Carlos on Tuesday.

And that brings me full circle from luck to wisdom. I am reading The Wisdom of Tuscany just now. Nothing is new really, but he reminds me of the wisdom of living in a close community ... the kind that is easy to find in Tuscany's towns, at least in those that have not be changed by the influx of tourists with too much money.

I think one of the reasons I love the lake even though I don't always agree with everyone's thinking, is that it is, for all its faults, my community. A Harvard medical school study has documented the influence of people on happiness. Happy people and happy relationships help us be happier. A live-in partner can increase our happiness by 8%; siblings who live close by by 14%; neighbours by 34%. The only relationship that made a bigger difference was having a good friend living nearby.

He spends a good bit of time musing about our very strange propensity for living in cities or soulless suburbs where our only connection with our neighbours is that we all park our cars on the same street ... especially since people dream of quite different things than the anonymity of these places. Most Americans wish for lives where they are known, where they make a difference, where their children can grow up safe and cared about by a whole community ... for small town lives ... but the small towns continue to disappear and be replaced by bedroom communities and sprawling urban centres.

I remember talking to an Ethiopian taxi driver in Ottawa who was returning to Ethiopia as soon as his youngest now a teenager had completed his education ... why? ... so that he could go home to life in a community where he mattered ... where people would check on him ... bring him coffee and news ... a place where he was known. And then he told me of someone living in a Canadian highrise who was dead for a few days before anyone noticed. He did not want that to happen to him.

Wakefield is not an African village, nor a Tuscan small town with a piazza, but it is the closest thing to them I've found so far ... I feel lucky to have laid down some roots here all those years ago.

The Fecundity of June

2011-06-10T12:29:00.000-04:00

Summer is really here ... written over two days ...

Yesterday I went out for my first kayak ride to the end of the lake and back with Kenya following at her lovely steady dog paddling pace. Then we swam and I threw sticks for her to fetch.

A large (maybe 16 inches across) turtle with wise old eyes is busy laying her eggs near my garden box. It took me ages to convince Kenya to leave her in peace so that she could complete her task. Kenya didn't seem to want to hurt her at all ... just curious and giving the barks she gives when she invites another animal to play with her. However; having gone through labour several times myself, I felt the turtle probably preferred peace and quiet.

I went to get the aluminum ladder so that I could get up to a top shelf to find my solar lights for the garden and instead discovered a robin had created a nest on the top step against the house wall ... four perfect blue eggs in the nest and a mama bird who flies away every time I come around the corner. We may have to do without our garden lights this year. (By Friday one had hatched.)

Even butterflies seem to have exploded everywhere just recently. Clouds of fake monarchs coloured yellow instead of orange greet me every time I open the door.

Life is good (and very fecund) just now.

The Lost Writer Returns

2011-06-07T10:07:00.000-04:00

Over a month and I have either found no time or content to blog. Apologies once again. I wonder if anyone is still reading! Thank you if you haven't given up on me.

Since I last posted I have been teaching quite a bit, but now I have a break until July. We visited my youngest and his partner one weekend and had a good time. Kenya has been for her annual check-up and is in good form. I spent a few days in Peterborough visiting a dear friend ... and got my first ever speeding ticket. Not the best way to remember the visit which was a lovely break from life. We went shopping for clothes and art supplies, got a painting of mine framed, ate a great deal of yummy food, drove around enjoying the countryside, and we laughed and talked as if almost a year had not passed since we were last together. A nice visit.

I am expecting a number of visitors in the next while ... old friends mainly ... but also the chimney sweep. I haven't had the chimney cleaned since I moved in. I haven't met him but I doubt if he will arrive wearing a top hat above a thin pinched little face smeared with soot.

I also want to get down to Los Angeles to visit my son so will check out airfares and possible dates soon.

The back hoe folks were here yesterday digging out a shallow foundation for a new shed which will be hobbity and will disappear into the hill. The roof will be flat and will be a living roof where I will plant plants that are not too particular about sunlight and will drape down over the exposed sides of the building. Peter will start pouring cement for the pad fairly soon and then begin the construction. I will be delighted to have a place to store stuff. I am tired of using my screened-in porch as a junk pile. But I think this shed will be nice enough to be used as a bunkie if I wanted to do that some summer. Imagine sleeping in a snug cave on a hot summer night.

The birds around my feeder have been absolutely beautiful this year ... way more colourful than the winter visitors. The lake, however, seems to have lost its pair of geese with their four goslings and the two pairs of ducks that were here in May ... I don't even want to hazard a guess about their fate ... but the lake seem very sterile this year without them. The pair of loons are still here but remarkably quiet. Perhaps they think they will be the next to disappear.

And now I am off to deliver a CD of a Stuart McLean story to one of my students, and to finish getting my garden in.

Enjoy the summery weather.

4 years

2011-05-04T11:44:00.000-04:00

I have a feeling the next four years will be a good time to be rich. Four years of a Harper majority. Four years of a stranglehold on truth and transparency. Four years of bigger prisons, more fighter jets and spiraling costs to fund them. Four years in which the poor will get even poorer and the rich even richer. I just read this morning that the gap between rich and poor has never been greater. What will it look like in Canada by 2015?

On the positive side, Jack Layton's voice will be heard more clearly now that he is the leader of the opposition.

I hope that the Liberal party will re-invent itself ... perhaps as a coalition with the NDP ... the only reason Harper and his Tories get anywhere is because of vote splitting. I am not in favour of a two party system ... but a multi-party system only works when there is proportional representation ... and that is not likely to come about under a Harper majority government.

I will be just about 75 years old when I next vote in a federal election. I sure hope that Canada and I survive till then ... and that all the people who did not support Harper this election have figured out how best to defeat the man.

I wish I believed in miracles ... and that I could hope that Harper would acquire some humility and the ability to govern graciously rather than with an iron hand. I wish he would become a better prime minister, one I could respect. But miracles are not too common these days, so my only realistic hope is that the other parties will figure out how to stop him from gaining another majority in four years ... or that they teach Canadians how important it is to choose proportional representation and demand it; that it become one of the major planks in an opposition platform; that whoever wins the next election will be forced to put real democracy to a referendum.

My riding (Pontiac) ousted its Tory minister, Laurence Cannon, by the way, and we have a New Democrat in his place. It happened because of a grassroots swell of concern that translated into intelligent voting. I was a little worried because people were being advised to vote strategically but it was a toss-up whether to vote NDP, Liberal or Bloc. The Bloc had stood second last time. Liberal, Cindy Duncan MacMillan, is a respected farmer in the area and concerned about community issues. Mathieu Ravignat was new to electoral politics but the NDP was gaining strength in Quebec.. What to do? What to do? Eventually I voted with my heart and voted for the NDP ... and was lucky that so many others made the same choice for either heartfelt or strategic reasons..

In non-electoral news, life continues to be good. Kenya and Remi are having a ball together, romping and wrestling for hours every day. I am getting used to my new car but am horrified by its gas mileage. And I still fear backing up. And there are all still all those buttons I am afraid to push. My buddy and I are splitting our lives between two places and learning to adjust to the vagaries implicit in a new relationship. Laughter helps smooth out rough edges. The dogs are delighted he is part of my life because they have an extra pair of hands to pat them. I started teaching Andre this week and the first session went well. Today I will be working with Azra and Pauline ... just three lessons left. I will miss them, but I will also be glad to be back to one session per week.

So ... I think I will simply bury my head in dogs, paint pots, teaching, and clouds for the next four years, and forget politics until 2015.

Adjustment Time

2011-04-26T18:50:00.000-04:00

Nothing is easy these days. I feel as if my whole world has been turned upside down. A good friend suggested I start walking on my hands ... but since that is not likely to happen, I guess I will just have to adjust bit by bit.

My new vehicle scares me ... steep learning curve My new camera needs to be studied. My new computer screen doesn't look the way it used to. I have a couple of new teaching gigs starting next week so I have to prepare in a vacuum. And there is someone new in my life ... and that requires an adjustment. All of this is good ... but I am feeling a little overwhelmed just now.

So ... if you don't hear from me except sporadically ... it's just the adjustment phase ... I am climbing several steep learning curves just now ... eventually I will feel comfortable in my new skin.

On a very practical level, I pick up Remi on Thursday and he joins the family for about 10 days.

A good friend is going to be performing here in Wakefield the end of the month ... and the Ottawa Area Guild of Potters are having their annual show this weekend as well ... and it is my baby's fortieth birthday so I will be touching base with him as well. So April is going out in a burst of flame. maybe it will melt the last of the snow here.

The Other Excitement at the Lake a 6 Alarm Fire

2011-04-20T15:25:00.000-04:00

The Finished Staircase

2011-04-20T15:18:00.000-04:00

Staircase Progress - testing once more...

2011-04-12T18:17:00.000-04:00

Odd photo explained

2011-04-10T07:43:00.000-04:00

Tamarack was working on my computer yesterday, and, as part of that process, trying to figure out why I couldn't find and post photos. We posted the early photo of the staircase because that was easily available. Still lots of work to do but it is also much further along than that photo shows.

I will be glad when the work is completed because then the mess can be cleaned up ... but it has been fun working with my friend Peter on this indoor project.

Must run ... have to get out and back in before the road becomes a sludgy river of Leda clay. It already has crevasses that forced Tamarack to park and walk from Rowboat Flo's yesterday. Her car is even closer to the ground than mine and has a particularly low slung exhaust system.

Have a great week.

Let's all live, love and laugh

2011-04-06T07:26:00.003-04:00

My week started well ... more staircase painting ... baby hugs from Lily ... Tammy's birthday celebration ... a good night's sleep in town ... back to staircase painting on Tuesday ... and today is a prep for class and teaching day while Peter continues to paint the staircase.

The staircase is beginning to take form and I can see the possibilities for design emerging.

Lily is now 6 months and a honey. Her mom just got a wonderful tattoo ... tasteful ... and in a place that is unlikely to droop or get flabby , leaving her at 70 with a skewed tattoo. Black lettering curves discreetly along her instep ... a permanent reminder to live, laugh and love ... and to raise Lily within that philosophy, a philosophy that will become stronger and more necessary, rather than fading and become irrelevant as she ages.

Lily's grandmother sent me a cute reminder to do the same myself (live the philosophy ... not get a tattoo):. a set of drink napkins decorated with the reasons women drink ... a list of annoying men (men who ...) and then ... the words: "no men". I laughed. Also reminded me that life itself operates imperfectly ... with no easy choices.

Enjoy the rest of your week. I intend to live, laugh ... and who knows? ... maybe even love a little!

"When will spring come?" she whined.

2011-04-04T07:27:00.000-04:00

Still no spring up here ...

Saturday was balmy. Sunday morning the ridges in the muddy road were rigid and the puddles solid. Sunday afternoon was lovely, and this morning everything is solidly frozen again. I have switched my ice walkers from my winter boots to my rain wellies.

The deer carcass was finally picked up by the township and now just a few feathery wisps of downy undercoat mark the spot. Tomorrow's rain should wipe away all remaining smell and Kenya can be let off-leash on our walks again.

Yesterday we followed the deep hard indentations of perfectly preserved raccoon tracks as we walked along the road on the other side of the lake. Tomorrow's rain will obliterate them and turn the roads to sludge. I may be forced to park further away from my house once that happens. I usually have to for a few days each year.

The staircase is still an on-going project and its accompanying mess and clutter is beginning to get to me. It didn't help that Kenya added to the mess when I gave her a new jungle baby to play with. She loved it, talked to it and squeezed it till the temptation to find the squeaker was just too much to resist. Then she decapitated it. This was followed by disembowelment, and then attempts to unbraid the body. I came downstairs to discover clouds of white fluff and bits of pelt, ears, nose, eyes and extremities scattered all over the livingroom.. It cost about $4 but provided hours of entertainment. For both of us. I get a kick out of watching Kenya interact with a squeaky toy ... almost as much as when she treats animals on a screen as if they are real.

Watched The Black Swan on the weekend. What a good portrayal of insanity and grace. No dogs in that movie. Kenya slept.

Kenya will be very glad when spring really arrives, the lake opens up completely, we can walk more comfortably, and she can work off her energy getting fit rather than getting into trouble. We both will.

In other news I am still sitting on the horns of a dilemma regarding my car ... and spending far too much time trying to make a decision.

And ... I received the results of the biopsy. All clear ... just an age spot. Hmmph ... and Hooray!

Tonight we are celebrating (belatedly) Tammy's birthday by going to a tapas place we love downtown.

Other than that, nothing new ... still cooking (tried ground turkey in a meat loaf yesterday ... too wet ... I found it off-putting ... but it tasted fine) ... still teaching (we are still playing doctor) ... Except for a strong desire for winter to end, life is good.

Hope you have a great week.

Wondering Where the Wild Things Are?

2011-03-30T07:10:00.000-04:00

They are here at Pike Lake.

Moles are scurrying about under the snow and Kenya is very interested. She goes out on her lead and just spends her time following her nose. Such a delicacate quivering goes on ... no rowdy excitement ... just intense curiosity ... and I haven't seen her salivate yet.

The bird feder is active ... on around and below ... the red squirrel was there yesterday. Someone was out shooting squirrels the other day ... I guess he figured it was easier than closing in the holes in his house. Honestly!

A deer was killed a few days ago ... either hit by a car or fell off a cliff ... all their trails have been disrupted over there ... anyway, her body was a Kenya magnet and I was forced to hold onto Kenya by the tail ... and exert my dominance ... in order to keep her away from it. She managed one little sniff and a lick of innards ... and then vomited all night ... and that is why she is tied outside these days.

The other three lake does are everywhere ... and can almost not be designated wild any more.

I haven't seen them but apparently there are twenty-some wild turkeys up in the fields of the nearest farmer.

In other news my poor little car may need a major suspension job ... will have to contemplate whether to spend large amounts of money on a car that will be fourteen in the fall ... how much is that in people years? I canceled my snow tire change because we still have lots of snow up here ... and there would be no point in getting the tires changed if I am going to trade in my car soon. I will get the oil changed. I don't want her to suffer in her old age.

Today is teaching day ... so must run ... I have figured out that I clear $5 per hour for teaching ... $6 per hour for catering ... and $8 per hour for dog sitting! Shows clearly what is valued in our society, doesn't it?

Spring Has To Be Somewhere Around Here

2011-03-27T09:18:00.000-04:00

The feeder is flocked with shivering birds I haven't seen all winter ...the ones that look like wild canaries and I always forget their name when they first arrive ... goldfinches ... Americans.

The sun is shining and the days are much longer ...

The snow is decaying and ugly and the odd mound of dog poop can be seen ...

I am beginning to spruce up the house in anticipation of a thorough spring cleaning.

I have started to dig my snow tires out from under a huge pile of snow and have scheduled my spring visit to Grant's Garage to have my tires installed, my oil changed and my suspension checked.

I am sorting clothes first by season and then into several piles and boxes ... ones for each season that I will probably wear ... ones I can't bear to get rid of even if I haven't worn then for several years ... ones I will definitely give to the Sally Ann ... and ones that are fit only for the garbage bin.

But winter is hanging on up here with a cruel and frigid grip. I washed my down parka the day before yesterday and had to pull it out to wear yesterday ... along with long underwear, winter boots, ice grippers, a hat and mitts.

And last night the air was so clear that CBC almost got lost in the cacophony of other voices.

My hydro bill corroborated the fact that this winter has been harder than the past couple of years, especially in the last two months ... my bill was $150 higher than last year's bill for this period ... Last year I turned off my heat line to the lake in March. This year I wouldn't even think of it. And I am not one of the Ontarians being expected by her premier to freeze in the dark.

But it really must be spring ... after all it's almost April and an election is on the horizon. Won't someone please tell the weatherman?

By the way, check out CBC's questionnaire on your political position (the Compass) ...I was surprised by a couple of things: first that the political spectrum in Canada is not a line running from left to right as it is elsewhere. Instead there is one party to the distinct right and all the rest are clustered to the left of centre with the Liberals just a tad closer to centre. Maybe Canadians should stand up and shout that a coalition would indeed be a great idea especially since that is obviously what Harper fears most and since over half the population votes for those left of centre parties anyway. The second surprise was that my responses coincided most often, not with the NDP or Liberals as I had expected but with the Bloc! Of course those three parties and the Greens share a great many viewpoints, so it really was a toss-up. Except I have never even considered voting for the Bloc so I was surprised.

I have tried on all my slacks and now I am going back to my painting. Have you any idea how many coats are required for vibrant colours? Enjoy the sunshine, but bundle up.

My World Update

2011-03-23T10:40:00.000-04:00

Just a quick post to let your know that I am alive and well and painting ... and reading ... and enjoying my insomnia by making love to a small clock radio in the middle of the night. The radio waves seem to go directly into my body ... my heart hums ... I wonder if it is safe. CBC Overnight is far better than CBC daytime programming.

Last night I heard all about attempts to translate Gunter Grass' newest offering ... an untranslatable book about the Brothers Grimm and their failed attempt to create a German dictionary. They died before getting to the middle of the alphabet. Grass has structured his book like a dictionary and to do a proper translation is impossible without creating gibberish from a masterpiece.

My staircase is going slowly. I continue to live in the chaos of a small renovation.

Must cut this short as I have to prepare for my class this afternoon and put a third coat on a section of railing.

Have a great Wednesday and a fine end of the week. Spring is in the air even if ice is still underfoot.

Those Firemen ...

2011-03-19T08:31:00.000-04:00

Yesterday's firemen were standing looking up, up, up because there was a fire. I didn't realize until Peter arrived for work after I had posted yesterday. Apparently a tree fell on the live hydro wire and didn't trip whatever kind of safety device it should have. Instead, the tree became a carrier of electricity and started several small fires on the mountain across the lake. Peter saw it all, and he and someone else on the lake called it in.

So ... what happened all day yesterday ... and is continuing today ... and will likely continue until the contractor retires or dies ... is gouging (of more than one sort). A huge earth moving machine with a crane and bucket which looks tiny against the mountain is attempting to knock down all the loose rock.

The dogs and I went over to watch yesterday. The bucket was slammed against the face of the hill and then a cascade of rock came down onto the machine. This was repeated for a while and then the rubble was transferred to the truck which took it away ... somewhere ... Then the clawing started, and still more came down.

There is a limit to how high the crane can reach, but I guess they figure if they undercut enough, eventually they will reach bedrock. I kind of doubt it because they are working on shale.

And the crane is puny compared to the mountain. It can cripple it but it can't destroy it completely. The poor mountain looks scarred and the mounds of rubble continue to grow despite the truckloads that are being hauled away.

Are they insane, or am I?

Probably me. They have provided themselves with a never-ending task that will leach out thousands and thousands of tax dollars forever.

I took photos yesterday but cannot post them till Tamarack returns and can help me sort out why the computer software is not allowing me to export photos.

I will also post a photo of the little jewelery box when I can.

Looking at another microcosm ...

2011-03-18T08:35:00.002-04:00

You may remember my mentioning the blasting taking place across the lake ... the widening of the existing road, despite the basic commonsense realization that if you cut the trees whose root systems are holding the nearly vertical mountain in place, and then blast and gouge away whole areas of supporting rock structure, that the mountain will crumble and fall piece by piece.

We told them this before they chose the cheapest solution just described. Some of us are more knowledgeable about engineering, physics and soil than I am ... almost anyone is ... but even I know that erosion happens when you disturb the natural plant life that holds earth in place.

They had to have known.

However; they went ahead. They based their decision on relative cost. They always do.

I know ... the ubiquitous "they". Well "they" in this case is the municipality ... the same municipality that has expropriated land to allow an existing plastic factory to have a cheaper place from which to operate ... no jobs for the region ... nothing positive at all except an ugly little industrial park producing ecologically unfriendly materials. This is also the municipality that wants to put a septic waste facility for several regions on the Gatineau River above Wakefield; a facility that is not state-of-the-art as far as environmental controls are concerned. And a highway structure that may destroy the aquifer of the Wakefield spring on which many people depend for pure water.

I have not become actively involved in the ecological debates raging around the arbitrary municipal decisions being made recently --- there are too many for an old hermit to handle and many younger and more energetic activists are doing their damnedest to save out spring, to save our river, to save the environment, to save the character of Wakefield. Thank heavens for their youthful energy and commitment.

But I think they will likely be just as ineffectual in the long run as we were with the blasting on the lake.

By the way ...chunks of the mountain have been falling ever since the blasting took place ... and the whole process seems to be accelerating.

On the weekend, a rock the size of a wood shed came down and blocked the road. There was no emergency number to call, and the resident whose path was blocked, along with other neighbours, called the police who arranged to have a path cleared that would allow one vehicle at a time to use the road.

Since then the site has been visited by several trucks with different logos on them. Groups of official looking men spill out and contemplate the mess the mountain and the road have become.

This morning it was a white municipality truck and a much larger red vehicle. A group of five La Peche fire fighters tumbled out of the latter. They clustered around looking up at the overhanging ridges of red rock to which clung some smaller trees. After half an hour they left.

Surely in a group of five practical men like volunteer firefighters there will be at least one sane head that will point out the obvious folly of cutting down more trees, of gouging back still more of the mountain.

The better solution would have cost more, but I suspect the costs are already approaching those of the better solution, and that the municipality will eventually be faced with having to do what they should have done initially anyway.

And I have not even touched on the real concern I have; safety. What if that resident had arrived at that spot a few hours earlier ... at the moment the rock fell? His car would have been crushed and him in it, or he would have veered to the right to avoid being struck. He would have gone into the lake.

Does someone have to be badly injured or killed before this municipality makes a sane decision?

I know that this is a very tiny matter, especially when the world is concerned with the real tragedies occurring in Japan and the Middle East.

Despotic politicians. Puny man-made and ill-considered solutions to problems. A failure to respect the terrible beauty of nature.

I know the crumbling mountain across the lake is insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it really is just a matter of scale.

Monday's Blues followed by Tuesday's Sunshine, and Wednesday's Update

2011-03-15T09:49:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was a strange day. I went in to pick up Shea who is our house guest this week and ran some errands in town before I collected him. All went well until I got home. Then everything seemed to go to hell in a hand basket.

1.   My trunk wouldn't open, and that is where my groceries were.

2.   I put such things as wine and boxes containing kitchen supplies and paint cans, which were packed in the car interior on the sled and tried to get down the hill. First one leg sank in up to the thigh and I fell into a most ungraceful sprawl in the snow. With difficulty I hauled that leg out and made my way down the hill sinking in to my knees with each step while preventing the sled from spinning out of control and making a much more rapid descent straight down the hill, over the retaining wall and into the building.

3.   Peter was working on the staircase and he tried to help me by using graphite in the keyhole to open the trunk. We ascertained that the inside lever was doing something at the latch end because we could hear its mechanism. But it was all sound and fury. Nothing happened to open the trunk.

4.   I made myself something to eat and headed off to visit Grant's Garage. $28 later the trunk was working and we had no idea why. I probably put something in the wrong place and it interfered with the latching mechanism. The Toyota seat does not come out easily and when Grant got it out, I discovered huge amounts of sand and dog hair under the seat. When I get the car properly cleaned this spring I will clean that area too.

5.   I returned home and put away the groceries. That was not easy as the the staircase and kitchen/pantry area were swathed in plastic.

6.   I let the dogs out with me while I unloaded the car and they stayed with me, so I let them out alone for a few minutes while I looked at Peter's handiwork. Big mistake when one is a husky mix. They disappeared.

7.   I went out hunting and calling, took the car about 1 1/2 kilometres in either direction, asked neighbours if they'd seen them, and called some more.

8.   When I got home, Kenya was under the dining room table but there was still no sign of Shea. I called Carlos. He said Shea would come back; he always did. He was right. About an hour later while Peter and I were drinking tea, Kenya announced Shea's arrival. An exhausted dog came in, had his cookie and curled up in a corner, and Peter headed home.

9.   By now I was exhausted but I tried on the clothes I bought and discovered I wanted to return almost all of them. Problem was I couldn't find the bill. Found all the others, but no Costco bill. Damn again.

10.   Despite the exhaustion I had one of my now normal non-sleeping nights. I have learned to survive the insomnia by bringing the radio into bed with me and turning it on when I awaken. You'd be surprised how many good programmes air between midnight and 5 a.m. and music sounds better in the silent darkness too.

11.   Today has dawned bright and fairly mild and I am intending to take the dogs for a long walk as soon as Peter arrives and starts sanding. Maybe the physical exercise will make me healthily tired in a way that mental stress does not, and I'll have a sound sleep tonight.

And so the week begins!

Grey Wednesday Update:

I am tired of eating sawdust, listening to incessant noise, and dealing with crusty snow that the dogs and I don't do well in. The cake I made yesterday tastes fine but looks like a dog's regurgitated breakfast. I will ice it today and hide the mess as best I can. Yesterday I sent a a couple of bags of canned goods and other food a non-cook could cope with to a friend without a stove who is in a bind right now, but until the sawdust settles and can be cleaned up, it is awfully hard to find a clean pot or utensil let alone cook. I hate renovations, especially messy ones ... and Peter, who is doing the really filthy work, is getting fed up too, so his temper is at least as short as mine. I hope our friendship survives our renovation!

I will get out this afternoon when I have my first professional haircut in about two years, and go to my class. The dogs and Peter will remain stuck inside.

Hope your week is going better than mine is!

When it comes right down to it ...

2011-03-12T07:49:00.001-05:00

When it comes right down to it, I think first in terms of individual human lives rather than in big pictures. I am a micro thinker, not a macro conceptualist. Is that a word? That is why I ended up with a degree in literature rather than political science. I can comprehend the pain of a single human being better than I can the force of numbers so reading about the Joad family as it struggled through the Depression had much more impact than reading textbook descriptions of thousands and thousands of North Americans who were out of work.

That is likely the reason that, while I was stunned by the magnitude of this earthquake, and frightened by the thought of a nuclear disaster, it was Yoshiko I imagined, not the countless strangers who died under heaps of rubble.

Dear Barbara, thanks for your mail ask me about earthquake, Yes,yesterday when I was having tea at my home, suddenly terrible earthquake struck.... I hid under the table,I was so scared.... I couldn't sleep,tired ,so sad ,but I am OK now ,can't help ... mighty forces of Nature, terrible tragedy all over the Japan..... By the way, Did you get better? How are you? I have been thinking of you... please take care and keep in touch , Yoshiko

Yoshiko is the only person I know in Japan. She is in her mid-eighties and appears to be about 60 ... a diminutive woman who always looks stylish, even while traveling with a backpack.

In the winter of 2009-10 she skied (downhill) 78 days in Japan and British Columbia. She wanted to make it up to the ski hill a day for every year of her life but the weather was less willing than she was.

She is an artist whose water colours and other work hang in galleries in Japan and Europe.

I met her two years ago when she came to River Echo to study English. I was her driver, her guide and occasionally her dinner partner at local restaurants.

Last summer she spent a week with me painting a tray. Her snorkeling background gave her her colours and her subject matter.

I hope she will be back at River Echo this summer or fall ... and I am very glad she is safe.

Failing Revolutions, Earthquakes, Tsunamis, and More Rain

2011-03-11T07:17:00.000-05:00

Is this Armageddon? Today's news reports certainly suggest so.

Kenya was anxious all night because of the high winds ... and as a result I was too. Twice I crept downstairs to make sure that the wet snow was not forming a river ready to invade my house. The last time it was caused by a tree felled across the stream. The winds are shaking the biggest trees here.

I gave Leonard a container of the beans yesterday. They taste like candy. Today Peter will be helping me get the staircase ready for painting, and I will package his food and send it home with him. I will likely tuck in a helping of pasta with meat sauce for Leonard as his luck needs a boost these days.

But ... on the bright side, the little box is coming along and I am liking what it is evolving to. I was asked to make a jewelery box for a baby. It's not that easy to think of ideas for a grown-up present for a baby, so it has taken me a long time to figure out what to do with the jewelry box I found last summer at a garage sale in Wakefield. I took it apart and sanded and primed the exterior ages ago but was hesitant about how to proceed. I think it will be whimsical enough for a baby but grown up enough to last till she is older.

And here is what Robert Genn says about painting and art in general ... he says it well ...

Art establishes and makes tangible a time, a place, a thought, an idea.
Art, properly made, enhances and enriches the lives of others.
Art gives an opportunity to endow new life and new meaning into the ordinary.
Art gives an opportunity to design your own world, and, as in your children, create a significant immortality.
Art is hard-earned work that is its own reward and has a degree of permanence.
Art, because it's so easy to do, and yet so difficult to do well, encourages humility in the human soul.
Art is an apprenticeship that can be stretched into a lifelong education.
Art thrives on democratic ideals, freedom of expression and rugged individualism.
Art permits you to step out of the labyrinth and into a quiet corner of your own private joy.

A B of a Day

2011-03-10T08:49:00.001-05:00

The freezing rain has changed back again to snow, Leonard's tractor battery is dead, the deer are having a terrible time in the snow that has them floundering about in my woods seeking food, and the bird seed is disappearing rapidly now that the blue jays have returned.

I am cooking bananas (that refuse after almost two weeks to ripen) the Kenyan way. You fry chunks of banana and onion in margarine, add salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes and cover with tomatoes or homemade tomato sauce and cook till the bananas are still firm but easily pierced with a fork tine. They are good and can replace potato for a meal.

I also have a great big iron pot filled with beans that are baking. I used Madame Benoit's recipe ... chunks of pork (not salted) ... an onion coated in mustard, a little salt and a lot of maple syrup. A friend told me that my original recipe using salt pork plus salt was VERY salty. This one may have to have salt added at the end. In the last hour you put cored unpeeled apples on top and coat them with a butter and brown sugar mixture. The beans are sweet and fruity and crunchy on top.

I canceled my class yesterday because I was afraid none of us would get back home safely after 7 p.m. and got started on a little box that is harder than a chair because I am trying to get the same effect in far smaller spaces ... and am discovering my own limitations! However ... I shall persevere.

I am not looking forward to shoveling the steps ... and I have to since Leonard has left a wall of snow taller than I am at the top of the other route up to the road.

When is this winter that started in March ever going to end?

So ... dead batteries ... unhappy Bambis ... starving blue jays eating all the bird seed ... unripe bananas ... baked beans ... and a box ... a B of a day.

Snow Day

2011-03-06T20:04:00.000-05:00

I spent my day shoveling ... one bout with the steps ... a second with the car ... and a third spreading salt.

That snow is sodden and heavy.

But Leonard got my road plowed out and sanded by late afternoon and the people came around 4:30 for their table and chair and were pleased ... which made me pleased too.

I also made a very good pasta sauce using local organic ground beef and stew beef ... roasted peppers, celery, onions, tomatoes and garlic and then browned the meat and mixed in the roasted veggies and tomatoes, juice, wine, and herbs and simmered everything away all afternoon.

Kenya and I went out after supper and visited with Peter and Leonard and then headed home.

I always feel good when I take a walk in the snow when the temperatures are reasonable .... as they were this evening.

Life is good!

Hope these work

2011-03-05T18:26:00.000-05:00

It has taken me all day, but here they are ... well ... one is ...

2011-03-05T18:15:00.000-05:00

Another Wintery Post

2011-03-05T11:23:00.001-05:00

Another Snowy Day

I am relishing the thought of a snowed-in weekend. Peter will pick up his food in his AWD vehicle and Leonard will dig me out on Sunday. I will put two more coats of polyurethane on the little table and chair set for Victor, and his parents will come and get it Sunday afternoon.

So the whole weekend is one in which I am buffered by weather ... the only real demand on my time will be to shovel the steps by Sunday afternoon.

What will I do? Dunno ... but I have a bunch of movies, several books, a couple of new painting projects, and lots of food and firewood, so I have enough to keep me happily occupied.

I don't have any wine ... but that's not a real problem as I have been off wine this past while ... not totally off it ... but just not as interested in having a glass with dinner every day. It may have something to do with breaking my meal cooking and eating habits since I started preparing meals for Peter. If I am preparing meals at 9 a.m. there is a different atmosphere than there is at 5:30 or 6 ... it is part of my workday rather than the beginning of my recreational time. I also tend to eat strange meals at odd times. This morning, because I was putting the finishing touches on Peter's fare, I ended up eating tortellini with Bolognese sauce and a bit of spinach cooked with sweet onion. Yummy! But not really a breakfast.

This week, Peter's menu is:
* tortellini with sauce and salad
* gingerale pork chops with raclette potatoes and asparagus
* chicken stew with corn cobbler and brussel sprouts
* meat loaf with roasted medley potatoes and green beans
* Moroccan shrimp with spirited rice and spinach

Plus ... date bread, pumpkin cake and rhubarb stewed with other fruit and topped with yogurt, strawberries and maple syrup.

We are both eating well. The raclette potatoes are wonderful ... and fattening ... you pre-cook some potatoes, toss with olive oil and put them in a baking dish . Then you sprinkle on ham bits and cover with thick slices of mozzarella or raclette cheese and bake at 350 ish for about 20 minutes till cheese melts.

I am still reading about the plasticity of the brain ... and concurrently a memoir by Kurt Vonnegut's son who was/is a schizophrenic. The brain is an amazing thing ... powerful ... frightening and wondrous in turn.

I wanted to post a photo of Victor's little table and chair but my software won't cooperate. Will do so when I can ... I like it ... and I especially like the fact that it got me interested in painting again. It has been a while.

My class this week was fun. Pauline demonstrated how to make saffron rice and chicken with cheese and cream and then we studied about food while our dinner baked in the oven. When it was ready we stopped the lesson and went into the kitchen and ate a great meal ... complete with salad and wine ...a fun evening.

This coming week Azra is going to teach us a Yugoslavian craft. It is fun working with talented friendly women ... they tell me this is their only time in the week that is just for them ... unrelated to family or work ... just a relaxing leaning time with people they like. Sometimes groups just jell perfectly ... aren't we lucky when it happens?

Have a great snowy weekend ... and let's hope that this is our last burst of winter!

Babies and their pure unadulterated delight in life

2011-02-27T14:21:00.000-05:00

Lily (Tamarak's granddaughter and Jesse's daughter) had just rolled off her mom's breast as I snapped this ... doesn't she look delighted with herself? And Chelsea (Deb's grand daughter and Lindsay's daughter) is just as happy in her bath.

Babies have it right ... they live completely in the moment.

Jumble Post

2011-02-27T08:47:00.000-05:00

Today is Sunday and I am planning to take Kenya for a good long walk, water the plants, continue work on my little table and chair set, and continue reading The Brain that Changes Itself.

This last is a highly readable book about the plasticity of the brain written as a series of stories about the research and the people who have been helped by this relatively new understanding of the brain.

I just finished reading Cutting for Stone and recommend it. The novelist is a medical doctor, the story is set in Ethiopia and the USA, the characterization is very good and the plotting is flawless. It also allows us to learn a great deal about surgery and obstetrics that I found interesting. I like books that give me new knowledge as well as entertain me. And this novel is also beautifully written.

The table and chairs have been primed and painted and the table top is just about finished ... four plates, each sporting an African animal. My favourite is the zebra. I wish I were good enough to produce consistently pleasing drawings and paintings ... but I am not ... so we have an dull little hippo, a dainty giraffe and a cute lion ... and a zebra with whom I am satisfied. Today I want to get the legs and trim parts completed. Usually I start with the trim work and do the pictures last. I am not sure why I didn't do that this time ... but the effect is that I really want to finish it now that the tough part has been completed. These pieces have so many stages ... everything from the ugly work of cleaning up the pieces to doing the boring work of priming to choosing colours and applying them to designing and executing the main images ... and then the really fun part of playing with the rest of the piece -- lots of colours and shapes ... lots of experimentation goes on ... and I enjoy myself. I am best at trying and seeing and building bit by bit. The chair is going to be a suggestion of a teddy bear ... so the whole set will be my version of the teddy bears' picnic. I hope the little boy and his family like it.

My eye is almost completely healed. I won't get any results till the end of the month so I am still a bit nervous ... but what can we do, eh?

Kenya met two golden retrievers yesterday ... and scared the owner, a friend of Peter's. She and the male, Toby, sniffed each other and were okay but the little female, Molly, jumped on top of her and Kenya reacted nastily. She never bites but she snaps nearby and gets the fur wet with slobber ... and sounds as if she is going to murder the other dog. We all decided to leave it for now.

Kenya was terribly unhappy when they all disappeared and I said, "Well, you were too damned stupid to see that you could have had a couple of playmates if you hadn't been so damned bitchy." She hung her head, and I headed over to deliver Peter's food without her. I played with both dogs and had a good time ... I think they could all have managed to enjoy each other eventually ... but we are going to have to figure out how to facilitate that. I am thinking of approaching a dog trainer and seeing if s/he can help me train Kenya out of this kind of initial nastiness when she meets a new dog.

Not much else is new ... I have spent the last week doing what I always do (teaching ... preparing meals ... etc) but basically taking it easy recuperating from that flu bug and the small surgery ... more when I have something to say ...

Reverse Roller Coaster Ride

2011-02-19T08:26:00.000-05:00

February 19, 2011
Roller Coaster Riding

Well, this week has not been filled with my finest hours! Taking the roller coaster ride backwards as a retrospective trip, here it is:

TODAY I have a black eye that hurts and doesn't see too well.

YESTERDAY: This is the result of the surgical procedure I had yesterday morning, during which the surgeon removed my eyelashes and then excised the lesion and sent it for a biopsy, and said he thought it might not be skin cancer.

I almost didn't make it to have that surgery done because at about 7 a.m. my car refused to climb the hill of water-covered ice leading out to the public road. I tried backing down, but driving in reverse has never been my forte and so I landed in huge piles of snow precipitously close to the place where the run-off stream comes down through a concrete pipe with a diameter of about three feet under the road.

I crawled out the passenger side and called Peter for help. But I got a wrong number and some very kind old man told me how sorry he was that I was in trouble but he couldn't help. By the time I got hold of Peter I was smiling at my good fortune that I had disturbed a kindly soul.

Then I called Peter and he came over immediately and told me that he could not come down the hill either because of the conditions, and he couldn't get me out without help.And his truck was in really bad shape and he doubted whether it would make it to Tammy's and back. We solved the problem by having Tammy (also rousted out of bed and unshowered, coffee-ed or fed) meet us in Chelsea.

Tammy and I headed in to the General's Eye Institute and had a breakfast that made me feel a little queasy.

Then I had the procedure done. I came out of it feeling decidedly light headed, but the pain didn't begin for another while. I was awfully glad that Tammy was driving me because I could not have driven myself.

Tammy got ready for an afternoon job and Carlos drove me back home stopping enroute to get the things I needed from the pharmacy, and, now that things were mushy enough back at the culvert, shoveling enough snow away to back my car into its parking spot so that the road could be sanded.

Kenya and I spent the rest of the day following doctor's orders and taking it easy.

THURSDAY: That is also how we spent Thursday ... all day ... recuperating. Nothing to say. I slept all day.

WEDNESDAY: Wednesday started out beautifully. I went skiing with Mary, a friend I met through snow shoeing. We had a great morning and then had lunch afterwards at Molo's.

I called Tammy around 2:40 and learned that a terrible flu had raged like some kind of manic cyclone through their entire household. It hit suddenly without warning, tossed their digestive systems into chaos for 24 hours and then left them with no energy at all for the next day. I had visited them on Monday. We both hoped that I had not contracted it.

It was no longer than fifteen minutes later that the first wave of nausea hit me. I spent the next 24 hours making love to a stainless steel bowl which received first the contents of my stomach ... the wine and clam chowder I'd eaten in Wakefield a few hours before, and then wave after wave of intestinal contents. That terrified me because I seldom vomit, and never vomit up what looks, smells, and tastes like feces. Yes, yes, how would I know what feces taste like, right? Well, now I know. You don't want to have the first hand experience necessary to find out what it tastes likes, believe me.

SO ... back to the PRESENT:

Now I wait for 6 weeks to find out what the biopsy revealed. In the meantime I find out why there seemed to be a blockage preventing those fecal contents from taking their usual route. And I take it easy until I feel like my old self again. The antibiotics that I have to put in my eye four times a day cause blurring vision so I suspect I will not be reading or writing too much for a while. Bear with me once again, please.

In other news this week ... I read Eat, Pray, Love and watched the movie again as I did so. They are both wonderful experiences, not identical, but definitely complementary. And now I have started a book about orphaned twin boys born in Ethiopia to an Indian nun and the British doctor at the hospital where she assisted him. The little I have read makes me sorry I may have to postpone reading for a while. last night I watched Dangerous Beauty again ... about the Venetian courtesan ... a movie about love of all kinds ... and I started to watch Passchendaele. That will be on the agenda for today.

Kenya cried all last night because the wind howled and whistled in at the corners of the house making her feel threatened and uneasy.The only thing that seemed to calm her was having her tummy and throat stroked while she lay in my arms. I hope that we will both get more sleep tonight.

I also hope that this return to winter weather will allow all of you to enjoy Winterlude or whatever February activities you enjoy when it is cold and blustery. Me ... I plan to watch the end of Passchendaele and take it easy this next few days.

Chicken Pot Pies and Hedgehogs

2011-02-11T11:17:00.000-05:00

After almost no sleep ...

I got up at 8:30 or so ... fell asleep at about 4:30 ... and begged off snow shoeing.

Then I made a chicken pot pie ... cooked chicken, chicken gravy, freshly cooked potatoes, carrots and onions under a tea biscuit crust. It looks lovely but I am not overjoyed with the flavour. I may pop Peter's portion in as an extra with the instructions to re-heat in the oven and apply spices liberally ... and eat as soon as he receives it. Or I may play it safe and not damage my reputation by giving him any even as a gift!

I finished my first reading of The Elegance of the Hedgehog ... and now want to read it again soon ... savouring it. But first I want to finish reading Eat, Pray, Love which I started last night.

Hedgehog is a story about two protagonists caught in the world where materialism reigns. One has given up on love; the other on life. They hide their real identities and pretend to be dullards, but they are found out by a Japanese man with exquisite taste and no pretensions. The book is about more than that simple plot line. It is about life, beauty and transience and how they are linked.

I think I wrote in an earlier post that this book is really philosophy masquerading as fiction, and so what remains after this first reading is the ideas and insights which, like the spirits of the newly dead, hover around the body for a while after the light goes out..

Here are some of the quotes that stayed with me and made me think ...

"I was in the back room, euphoric, my eyes filling with tears, in the miraculous presence of Art."

"Why do two short, unexplained scenes, not driven by anything in the plot, arouse in us such a powerful emotion, containing the entire film between their ineffable parentheses?"

"True novelty is that which does not grow old. despite the passage of time."

"The contemplation of eternity within the very movement of life."

"If you forget the future, you lose the present."

"When movement has been banished from a nature that seeks its continuity, when it becomes renegade and remarkable by virtue of its very discontinuity, it attains the level of esthetic creation. Because art is life, playing to other rhythms."

"... pity the poor in spirit who know neither the enchantment nor the beauty of language."

"Perhaps the Japanese have learned that you can only savor a pleasure when you know it is ephemeral and unique; armed with this knowledge, they are yet able to weave their lives."

"Birch trees/ teach me that I am nothing/And that I am deserving of life"

"I suddenly felt my spirit expand, for I was capable of grasping the utter beauty of the trees."

"For art is an emotion without desire."

"Eternity: for all its invisibility, we gaze at it."

"... beauty consists of its own passing, just as we reach for it. it is the ephemeral configuration of things in the moment, when you can see both their beauty and their death .... does this mean that this is how we must live our lives? Constantly poised between beauty and death, between movement and its disappearance? Maybe that is what being alive is all about: so we can track down those moments that are dying."

The last few words of the novel: "Don't worry, Renee. I won't commit suicide and I won't burn a thing. Because from now on, for you, I'll be searching for those moments of always within never. Beauty in this world."

It is a book that made me want to escape the demands of the world, seek out the spare tranquility of a Zen garden, and meditate.

O Mein Papa

2011-02-07T18:58:00.000-05:00

Do you remember the Eddie Fisher song from the fifties? Likely not ...

But I was a kid being raised (or not) by mein papa ... and the song has remained with me all these years.

My dad was very imperfect ... he had been raised without a father himself and he really didn't know how to be a good father. But he loved me and I loved him. And the older I get the more I realize that that is really all that is important now.

Anyway ... I have been looking up recipes to use as I feed Peter every week ... and so I am seeking out old sources.

I keep coming across recipes that my dad left me. Some of them are in his handwriting ... and all those feelings of love and regret that he is no longer part of my life well up every time I see that handwriting.

It has nothing to do with whether or not he was a good cook or a good father ... it is all about love ... all about family.

And that is what the Eddie Fisher song was all about too.

Found it!

2011-02-07T11:16:00.000-05:00

A Very Good Meat Loaf

Combine and place in loaf pan:

* 1 1/2 lb. ground beef

* 1 slice bread chopped or broken finely

* 1 egg

* 1 small onion finely chopped (sweet is nice)

* 1 t. salt

* 1/4 t. pepper

* 4 T. ketchup (the best you can find)

* 1/2 - 2/3 c. milk or half and half

* 1-2 t. Worcestershire Sauce

Sauce to be poured over and on sides of meat loaf:

* 4 T. apple cider vinegar

* 2-4 T. brown sugar

* 1/2 c. ketchup

Bake at 350 degrees for about 75 minutes till done.

Enjoy! This is my favourite comfort food ... served with creamy mashed potatoes and a veggie ... either my Oma's spinach puree with chopped green onions or garlicky green beans or carrots slathered in butter.

Bereft ... well ... sort of ...

2011-02-07T09:48:00.000-05:00

I can't find the recipe I used to make the meat loaf that Peter loves. It was soft and had bread, milk and egg in it ... but it was tomatoey sweet and spicy as well with a lovely glazey saucy topping.

I have hunted everywhere in my own cookbooks and have now gone on-line. There are lots of recipes but I can't be sure I have found the right one.

This is important because there is only one mini-loaf left in the freezer and when I ask Peter what he wants me to make, he says he likes everything but especially the meat loaf.

This is one that kids would love.

Do you have a favourite recipe that you always make ... or do you just play it by ear/eye/aroma & taste buds, putting everything but the kitchen sink in?

Since starting this cooking for Peter, I am cooking smarter than I used to. Some of my favourite tricks are ways to deal with fresh veggies. I buy peas and green beans in bulk at Costco, and blanch/freeze the ones I don't use immediately so that I can pull them out of the freezer on Saturday morning and quickly stir fry them with olive oil, butter, and garlic or shallots to add to the meals. With asparagus, I keep it as dry and cold as possible in an open plastic bag and when I am ready to cook it, I stir fry it quickly and dress it with grated orange peel or tarragon. As soon as tomatoes no longer tempt me to eat them raw, I oven roast them with garlic, onion, and olive oil, then buzz them in the blender and freeze them for sauces. I no longer have leftover veggies that rot in my fridge ... one of the dangers of living alone.

I am also losing weight. I am not sure whether it is because I am always surrounded by food or whether it is because I feel no compunction to eat up the left overs, or because I don't cook Peter's carbohydrates till Saturday morning so I am tending to eat lots of veggies with a little protein rather than a lot of rice or potato or pasta with veggies and protein. Maybe it has to do with when I eat ... earlier in the day. I hope it is not because the food is terrible!

Our LONG lesson on Saturday afternoon was fun. We had enchiladas, salad and wine and then went out snow shoeing. Diane took us up hill and down dale through the woods, and told us how to avoid problems with bears. On one of the particularly steep places I kept slipping. i finally got up with help. Diane pulled me up by my ski pole and Pauline pushed on my fanny! Afterwards we had cocoa with a ginger, lemon, oatmeal cake. Then we began our lesson. We were all so tired and full we decided against our original plan of having dinner in Wakefield. Six hours with three great women. Nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Oma's Big Day in Town ...

2011-02-05T08:58:00.000-05:00

I decided to stop in the village yesterday and treat myself to lunch and a glass of wine. Big mistake.

But to backtrack a little. It was Friday. My car had been boosted twice in just over a week and I was pretty sure the battery was on its last legs. Five years ago I had bought it at Canadian Tire with an extended warranty. I checked out the paperwork and headed in to town to get the work done free.

Yes, indeed, it was dead. Yes, they would replace it ... almost free.

The waiting room at the Carling location is large and open concept. A television whirrs in the background making it difficult to do much more than watch it or the people around you. If the show was representative of CTV programming I fear for the future of the nation. Several cooks were preparing food for the Super Bowl. I had just read a couple of articles in The Citizen about the fact that Canadians have nearly reached the BMI of their SuperSize cousins in the States. Watching the food preparation on-screen, I understood why.

The first two cooks were preparing ENORMOUS sandwiches in which they stuffed mounds of sauerkraut, smoked meat, and french fries ... yes ... french fries. I guess the idea was to produce a dish that could be hand held and complete. The problem was that the top piece of bread kept falling off.

The larger of the cooks settled it back on and then licked her fingers. When it fell off again she used the same fingers to settle it back on its precarious perch.

I thought about the 500 pound woman I had just read about who is encouraging us all to embrace obesity, about restaurant meal preparation, about germs, and turned away from the tv.

I concentrated on the people in the room, none of whom weighed 500 pounds or seemed inclined to reach that goal by eating 10,000 calorie sandwiches while slouching about on a couch this weekend.

One was telling the service personnel that he was bringing a suit against someone because so many unnecessary repairs had been done on his vehicle. He had long lists and photos. The staff seemed nervous and exceedingly polite.

An older man was told told that he needed to have something done to his vehicle instead of just having over $900 worth of tires installed because his old tires had worn unevenly. He refused.

One young and very pregnant woman made several trips to the washroom and then sat sniffling and playing with her I-phone.

A young couple teased one another and romped on their chairs like frisky puppies.

The service manager announced that my car was ready and I headed home, stopping to visit Tammy who is recovering from very painful surgery and is not a happy camper.

By the time I got to Wakefield I was hungry and wanted a nice glass of wine.

I remembered reading the following in the Wakefield News:

LE HIBOU IS OPEN AGAIN!

We've all had a good break and have re-opened with a new menu (and still some old favorites). Hope to see you out -- we missed our village.
I decided to stop at Le Hibou. I talked to the owner, sat down and she brought me the new menu. I made my choice ... and then waited. For half an hour, I waited. The owner seemed distracted and there were no waiters in sight, just a young man peeling potatoes or something in the kitchen. Finally I left and went over to Rutherford's and sat down there.

The waiter arrived promptly and I decided I had made the right decision, even though there would be no glass of wine as they are not licenced. The food, however, is excellent ... local, reasonable and tasty.

There was a family of five sitting at the next table ...one of those families that somehow take over a restaurant. You know, the ones who make it impossible for other customers to carry on conversations because their presence is so insistent. Oh well, I thought, I will read. Even that wasn't easy because the noise level escalated and the two younger children (about 10 and 12) got into an argument. The parents made no real attempt to de-escalate things. They just got louder themselves. Patient and accepting ... but louder. Now I was listening to loud kids arguing and even louder parents showing just what good parents they were by maintaining their calm.

Suddenly the little girl screeched, first at her parents, then at her brother, and then she threw a piece of chicken breast at him.

It did not hit him, however; it hit me.

"Hey!" I yelled in my best old teacher voice.

The parents finally began to act as they should have from the beginning. They took control.

The first thing they did was send the two younger children from the table to cool off, and told them to apologize to me.

The boy dashed past my table smirking.

The girl followed him muttering "excuse me" as she rushed past.

The mother insisted that she pick up the chicken and apologize properly.

She hunted for it. I pointed to it now sitting on the chair beside me. She muttered, "I'm sorry," and ran after her brother. I said to her retreating back, "I hope you don't usually act this way in restaurants."

Everything became very quiet and I returned to my book.

Five minutes later the rest of their food had arrived (enough to feed a Haitian village) and the father went out to search for the kids. He brought them back and the entire family began to behave the the way one expects people to behave in a restaurant ... quietly ... not disturbing the peace ... having respect for other diners.

Too bad it took a flying piece of chicken and a grumpy old woman to make them realize that a restaurant is a public place and people ought to do their best to ensure that they and their children do not intrude on the enjoyment of others.

Snow Day !

2011-02-02T07:59:00.000-05:00

Snow days are gifts from the gods. Kids understand that ... and so do teachers.

They are the holidays which fall into our laps unexpectedly. We awaken to the news on CBC or we get a chain phone call at 6 a.m., or, as was the case this time, we are given a couple of days warning that we are going to be in for a big dump of snow.

Snow days mean that we can't, simply can't, get on with our normal pursuits. We are forced to take a day off from life.

The undone homework is no longer a problem. The pile of essays that has been weighing heavily on my conscience can now be marked because I have been given an uninterrupted period of time in which to mark. And ... if we are not burdened by such guilty concerns ... we can simply go out and play on our snow day.

Yesterday I canceled my Wednesday class and arranged to extend the Saturday class to include lunch, snow shoeing and a restaurant visit.

Now I am free!

This morning I got up at 6:30 as usual, filled some buckets with water "just in case", settled in at the computer with my tea, and, as the light began to dawn was able to watch the snow fall outside my window.

One window faces west into the darkness of the woods, and there the snow just filters steadily down against the darker backdrop. The other looks out on the lake to the north, and there the view is much foggier, a grey expanse against which the white snow is visible only because of its motion. I already feel as if I am snowed in ... trapped ... happily ... in my cozy nest.

I am going to make marmalade chicken breasts, bake banana cake, put the primer coat on the little table and chair, and start reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog which arrived yesterday with three other books and the DVD, Secretariat.

I watched the dvd immediately ... what a lovely break after the last two movies I endured, both about unpleasant dedicated people who left their mark on the world. I seem to prefer a horse who gives his all ... a horse that is all heart ... to people who are all head and no heart.

And maybe I will also go out and play with Kenya ... can't let a snow day be all about work ... even pleasant work like painting and cooking. And Kenya quite literally bounces when I take her out to play these days, and her enthusiasm is infectious.

How are you going to spend your snow day? I hope it will be a special day.

No News Sunday

2011-01-30T10:15:00.001-05:00

My life has become so boring lately that I cannot find anything worth sharing with you.

Weekend ...    tidied up porch
Monday ...     iced in ... baked
Tuesday ...     iced in lesson and food prep
Wednesday ...X-ray and teaching
Thursday ...    Tired
Friday ...         Felt as if I'd been run over by a truck so didn't go snow shoeing
Saturday ...     Tammy and her gang came out and helped get the wood supply down the hill and into the porch

That was the best day ... Lily the wonder babe entertained us all and then nursed and fell asleep.

Apart from that ... I finished reading The Sentimentalists ... and felt relieved to be finished with it ... watched some good movies ... have started reading Vimy by Pierre Berton ... excellent ... but I really want to read a piece of fiction that gathers me up in its covers and transports me to a whole new world of the imagination. i have ordered a couple that I have hopes for ... Elegance of the Hedgehog and Cutting for Stone .

Next week does not appear to be terribly exciting ... I teach twice ... on Wednesday and then again on Saturday here at the lake. I will make a lunch, one of my students will take us out snowshoeing and give us an interpretive tour, and then we will complete the lesson. The rest of the week I expect to be cooking and painting that little table and chair.

Hope your days are more exciting than mine are!

BRRR!

2011-01-23T08:17:00.000-05:00

Sunday morning ... and a good day to hunker in by the fire, the computer and the DVD screen ... or maybe return to the down-filled nest with a book.

I am reading The Sentimentalists. I wish I were enjoying it more.

I just ordered Eat, Pray, Love (the book) because two people have told me that they felt the book was far richer than the movie. Me? .... I loved the movie ... so I am really looking forward to the original.

I also ordered a book about how the brain regenerates itself and changes its circuitry even after traumatic incidents. Who knows what my brain is doing there inside its cracked little egg?

And the third book I ordered was recommended by Mary Ito (sp?) who hosts Fresh Air on Sunday mornings. I love her choice of music and she invariably mentions movies and books that I too enjoy. This one is called Wait for Me ... by one of the six strange Mitford sisters ... Deborah the Duchess. I can't remember all their names but one was a fascist, another a communist, another a writer ... all seemed interesting ... and Mary characterized them with these single nouns. This book is autoiography and tells the story of the author and her sisters.

I also ordered Passchaendale but have to wait for that DVD ... as I have to wait for Barney's Version and The King''s Speech.

I do have to go out at least once today.. and who knows? ... maybe I will enjoy the day and stay out and play a bit. On Friday I went snowshoeing for about 1 1/2 hours in the woods and was perfectly comfortable exercising out of the wind. It's much more fun snowshoeing on bushwhacking trails than simply slogging along a road.

I have to take over the final part of Peter's order and, with it, the instructions for a couple of things but after that I think I will just stay close to the home fires.

Yesterday was an eating day ... in fact we (my guests and I) couldn't finish all the food. We started with a Lebanese tray of goodies with pita, went on to oven roasted veggie soup, and from there to beef wellington, mashed potatoes and stir-fried veggies, and then to apple cake with whipped cream. We did not have room for the salads.

The beef tasted fine but I would make radical changes to the recipe ... FAR too many peppercorns ... not NEARLY ENOUGH filo sheets ... so the beef ended up looking like a blob covered with the wine/mushroom/shallot/ duck liver sauce. Bits of dingy grey sogginess clung to it. The whole thing should have been encased in a puffy crust. The peppercorn cream sauce masked the final product that came to the table ... but I cook with everyone watching and helping so we all knew what was hiding under there!

Before my guests arrived, an entire family came to make decisions about which furniture they wanted me to paint for the newest little boy. Both little boys were there, the parents of one, the mother of the other and the grandmother of the family. They decided on a small table with a chair and want it done in gentle blues and greens with animals. I am looking forward to starting a new project.

Tomorrow I will get the x-ray done .... and next week the temperatures are supposed to moderate a little so I hope I can go out and play. I hope you are having a great weekend whether you are living in the icebox that is central Canada or some place where the temperatures are balmier.

Old Labs

2011-01-21T09:09:00.001-05:00

You might well ask what old Labs have in common with me and why they are showing up on this blog.

A hint ... it has only a little to do with either medical labs or with Chelsea the old and lumpy Lab I sometimes care for. However; I do seem to be going to the dogs at an accelerated rate lately.

My son laughed when I told him about my lumpiness and said I was aging like an old dog.

My doctor, on the other hand, was not amused. She is sending me to an eye surgeon to have the lump on my eyelid excised and biopsied, and I have to have my skull x-rayed Monday because she thinks I fractured it when I fell. There is not a lot that an x-ray can tell as far as I can understand beyond whether it was indeed fractured, but she says it may indicate the need for more poking about with an MRI or CTScan to see if the brain itself was damaged.

She asked whether I had noticed any drop in intelligence and I laughed and said, "No, but then I live alone with a dog, so who would tell me?"

Why can't a man be more like a woman?

2011-01-16T08:04:00.001-05:00

Yes, I know it sounds like an inversion of the famous "My Fair Lady/Pygmalion" complaint mouthed by Henry, the old curmudgeon and lover of language ... and that is a little scary since I may well fit that description myself.

But honestly.

I keep meeting really interesting women who would be lovely mates if only they were men!

I am not thinking of the stereotyped images of either sex, but fully fledged and interesting ... and fit ... in all ways ... mentally, physically, financially, morally, sexually ...

I have recently been meeting men who have some or even most of those attributes, but too often they are sadly deficient. But I meet women who seem whole all the time.

The woman I met most recently said things like: "Oh, I can't be bothered with men; they all seem to need mothers", "The ones I meet have no sense of adventures at all", "I met one who spent his entire year traveling from one of his offspring to another and wanted someone to share that life! Good grief!" and "All the men I have met on-line seem like dorks."

Another started her last email with the salutation "Men, shmen" and proceeded to write in a most interesting, independent fashion.

Still another sighed and stated with finality, "They are all boring, you know, even the good ones."

A very old friend decided several years ago that men were fine as friends but she was quite quite finished with the idea of a relationship with one. She much prefers the company of the women she knows.

Anyway, so far, the men I have met whom I had some hopes for have proven to be mentally ill, physically decrepit, poverty stricken, virtually homeless, lacking friends, without much of a life and/or boring.

The woman I just met the other day may have the answer. She says she is going to start looking for Latin men. At least life would be interesting with them!

I dunno about that as a solution but I am going skiing with her on Tuesday. Maybe I will learn more. She seems to have thought things through pretty carefully, and, like me, she's still hopeful.

A grey Saturday Morning at the Lake

2011-01-15T08:22:00.000-05:00

This has, once again, been a busy week that has flown by.

I taught Wednesday and spent most of Thursday in Ottawa. I was exhausted after a day of appointments and errand-running, so tired that I went to bed without supper at 7:30 and slept for 12 hours!

On Friday the weather was beautiful and I spent two hours snowshoeing with Tom and his five old ladies ... three of us in our seventies and two in their late sixties. It was all uphill for 3.5 k. on the way out and much more pleasantly downhill on the return journey. Kenya had a wonderful morning bounding hither, thither and yon. She probably got in about 20 kilometres, most of it running.

One of the women was a new acquaintance and her xc skiing skills and courage seem to be on a par with my own. I think we will get together some time soon. It is hard to find someone who wants to ski but is as cautious, slow and inept as I am!

I have been invited to go on a moonlight potluck snowshoeing jaunt in the park with a much faster moving group on Monday evening. Not sure whether I will make it. It is 4 k. each way ... and I was exhausted by yesterday's excursion. However the 8 k. would be broken up by a convivial meal around the woodstove at one of the cabins. I will see how I feel after I have dealt with my day on Monday ... another trip to town that may end up being tiring too.

Today is meal delivery day ... so a morning of last minute veggie etc. preparation followed by packaging and delivery. This week (as predicted) has been much easier than last week was. Instead of baguettes I am tucking in a tortilla dish made with my own tomato sauce, fresh tomatoes, black beans and Monterey Jack cheese. I had it for supper last night and really liked it. I am going to do more with tortillas from now on. I had intended to have salmon but again was too tired ... so that will be lunch today!

The other news is that I received an email from someone who bought one of my rocking chairs for her son last year and now wants another for her nephew. I don't, unfortunately, have any rocking chairs available to work on ... but I will see what I can do. If anyone reading this sees a child's rocker that needs a paint job and a new occupant, please let me know.

So ... I have managed to balance the week ... reading, writing, cooking, teaching, and snowshoeing ... not sure I've got it right yet. Maybe the problem is that I am seventy years old and trying to fit too too many things into an old lady's week.

I am planning to play on the kick sled tomorrow ... or ski or snow shoe ... we are getting a dump, I hear.

Enjoy your weekend.

Reflections

2011-01-12T11:56:00.000-05:00

I have been remiss ...

I used to blog daily ... then every couple of days ... now it seems to be coming down to once or twice a week. Does that mean I have a life in the here and now?

I miss the reflective nature of blogging when I don't do it regularly. Just sitting down and thinking about things ... looking back ... pondering ... looking forward ... it is all important to me. My life seems to become a half life when I don't take the time to reflect.

Lately I have been consumed by preparing meals and teaching. I need to balance my life again. (God, how often do I have to remind myself to do that?) Anyway ... this will be a kind of resolutionary blog post ... an attempt to find balance through reflection ...

I have prepared the beginnings of most of the meals I will deliver on the weekend ... a beef stew base that is luscious ... yogurt breaded pork chops ... a chocolate banana cake. On Friday night I will dine on salmon the leftovers of which will then become salmon pasta primavera on Saturday when I will also prepare the fixings and the soup, and package and deliver everything. Between then and now I will pick up any necessary additions like bread and salad makings.

My lesson for today is all ready and in the bag I carry to River Echo. Three hours of preparation for three hours of teaching this week. Still too much but at least saner. We are working on tenses and using the film "Babies" as a base. If you haven't seen it, do ... four babies ... two from developed countries (Japan and the USA) and two from developing countries where I have worked and come into contact with the nomadic people portrayed in the film ... Namibian Himbas and Mongolian herders. The first year of the babies' lives is documented.

Kenya and I just got back from a longish walk. I was going to go skiing this week but discovered one ski boot was filled with ice. It is is still drying out. On Friday I will be out with our snowshoeing group ... about two hours of snowshoeing, followed most likely by an impromptu social get together.

One of the things that has occurred since I fell in early December is that I seem to have given myself permission to be lazy. I quite like it! I have watched a few good movies ... The Governess ... The Ugly Truth which is predictable and not great, but funny enough in one spot especially, to make me howl with laughter ... My Sister's Keeper which brought tears ... and Baby of the Bride ... another slight film but I liked it. My favourite lately was Eat, Pray, Love ... I watched it twice ... reminded me of a dear friend who has been ill recently and looks for all the world like Julia Roberts ... and thinks and behaves like the character she plays in this movie.

I have also been reading ... just finished The Matter with Morris ... and have started to read The Sentimentalists ... both about the aftermath of wars in far away places ... Vietnam and Afghanistan. Not bad ... but not completely riveting either. But that may be me ... perhaps I am a little scattered just now.

My head still hurts and I suspect from the strange long wriggly lump I can feel that I may have cracked my skull when I fell. There was no blood but this feels like a healed irregular fissure. I probably should have it and the warty thing on my eye and the smooth lump behind one ear looked at one of these days. Some people get grey hair. I become lumpy. Damn this aging anyway!

And that ... she said ... is that for now.

Whew ... end of a busy week ... time to play

2011-01-08T17:10:00.001-05:00

If I charged by the pound for contents, packaging and delivery I would be making about 25 cents a pound ...

It has been a hectic week ... back to teaching with huge amounts of prep time needed ... then making five multi-stage meals, desserts and homemade soup in a short period of time.

This is what I accomplished:

a kitchen that is a disaster
a fridge and freezer that are jam-packed and totally disorganized
several partial meals in the freezer

The boxes that are going out contain:

chili con carne with herby salad and french stick
pasta with a hearty meat sauce, spinach salad and french stick
chicken kebabs on rice with green beans and almonds
pork roasted in apple cider with oven roasted veggies and apple sauce
chicken stew with mushrooms, carrots and potatoes
dressings for the salads
banana bread
pumpkin cake
vichyssoise
extra pasta sauce
grated parmesan
instructions for keeping and cooking

WHEW!

Today I am going to get my fridge and freezer re-organized and pre-cook any veggier that might not last till next weekend.

Next week should be easier because I have some cooked meat portions etc in the freezer now.

Right now I am going on my delivery run ... and this afternoon I am going out to play.

Have a great weekend, everybody.

Post Script:

Just got back from playing on the kicksled with a new friend who had a ball with it. The fresh powder snow is wonderful for good runs on the hills.

I made a roasted tomato sauce that we had with nice bread; also a spinach salad for tonight and my Oma's pureed spinach with green onions and butter.

And I have got my garbage and recycling up the hill and organized the fridge and freeze. I feel MUCH better now ... Playing in the snow does wonders for the soul. So does feeling on top of things!

a new career ...

2011-01-04T17:54:00.000-05:00

January 4, 2011

A New Career ...

Well not really ... just another way to play at life using the life skills I've developed over 70 years.

One of my buddies who does not feed himself well and is tired at the end of a working day has commissioned me to make his meals 5 days a week. I make enough $$$ to cover my costs plus the ingredients for my own meals and he comes home to an easy ready to heat meal during the working week. So far I have made breaded pork chops with mashed potatoes and a carrot/leek/celery side dish plus chili con carne with french stick and green side salad. He likes surprises and not too much heat so it will be be fun.

I am also starting back with my lovely quebecoises this Wednesday. We are starting our time back with old fashioned folk and fairy tales ... with just a splash of feminist philosophy thrown in for good measure.

I have been off work for a full month now ... and it is time to replace the stars in my eyes with practical dollar signs ... while still having fun.

Off we go!

Putting On the Brakes

2011-01-03T08:20:00.000-05:00

I read something this morning and thought about the brake pedals in my life.

Even though you may want to move forward in your life, you may have one foot on the brakes. In order to be free, we must learn how to let go. Release the hurt. Release the fear. Refuse to entertain your old pain.

The energy it takes to hang onto the past is holding you back from a new life. What is it you would let go of today?

(Mary Manin Morrissey Minister, Author and Speaker)

I lived with someone for seven years ... a good man ... independent ... healthy ... athletic ... but he had two hang-ups that determined how we lived together and ultimately why I left.

The first was about weight gain and activity levels.

His wife had been a cute little thing when he met her in high school but after their marriage she became inactive, grossly obese, and slovenly.

Any time I was sick or had an accident that prevented me from keeping up, I could I feel an invisible whip coming down on my shoulders. Once, biking in Eleuthera, I fell on loose gravel on a steep coral road and got a horrible gash in my knee. Because it was a coral cut it took forever to heal, but I was not allowed to stop biking even for a moment.

If I gained a pound I was subjected to ridicule.

I realized that I could not grow older with him because I was not allowed to age normally.

The second was his fear of allowing a woman into his life, of allowing her to truly become his partner.
.
He was determined to keep himself free of any real entanglements so he put up barriers to prevent anyone from getting too close. He made all the decisions. We lived in his HIS house under HIS rules.

I resented this and began to withdraw into myself. I became as fiercely independent as he was. And just as armoured.

And when I was finally strong and independent enough to leave him, I did

Funny ... I was drawn to the things that ultimately drove me away ... his independence and his active lifestyle.

Unfortunately I am still encased in that armour and I still worry that I cannot keep up or stay young so I am fearful that I will not be good enough when I meet someone who is independent and athletic.

I wish I could erase the memories that make me put on the brakes when I meet someone at all like him.

Is there anything that causes you to put on the brakes before you become vulnerable?

Oma Impersonating Rudolph

2010-12-31T12:50:00.000-05:00

Auntie Mandara, Lily and Kenya

2010-12-31T12:47:00.000-05:00

Christmas Dinner

2010-12-31T12:42:00.000-05:00

Christmas movie guy

2010-12-31T12:39:00.000-05:00

But i love you ...

2010-12-31T12:33:00.000-05:00

Techwood and Scootz Christmas Eve

2010-12-31T12:29:00.000-05:00

Some Thoughts on Solitude and Art

2010-12-31T09:31:00.000-05:00

I have been busy and sociable lately ... and now I find myself missing time to myself ... and wishing I were being more quietly creative ...

Today I came across two quotes that articulated my own amorphous yearning to return to a more hermitic life.

From a book called Solitude

What goes on in the human being when he is by himself is as important as what happens in his interactions with other people.

… Two opposing drives operate throughout life: the drive for companionship, love, and everything else which brings us close to our fellow men; and the drive toward being independent, separate, and autonomous.

… The creative person is constantly seeking to discover himself, to remodel his own identity, and to find meaning in the universe through what he creates. He finds this a valuable integrating process which, like meditation or prayer, has little to do with other people, but which has its own separate validity. His most significant moments are those in which he attains some new insight, or makes some new discovery; and these moments are chiefly, if not invariably, those in which he is alone.

On Art in the rapidly changing electronic world ... from Robert Genn

Art fills a vital human need for life enhancement. Art reboots the cerebral cortex, teaches new skills to underutilized hands, arouses dormant sensitivities and promotes latent passions. If need be, art gives us something to talk about besides the kids, grandkids and celebrities, hence making us more interesting people. And it's cheap--a month of art supplies for the average Daumier is about the same as a round of golf.

For many of us it's meant a greater need for and appreciation of sanctuary. We catch ourselves daily in our work-spaces--whether tiny rooms or lofty studios--often contented, always challenged. These retreats are not soon to be closed. The studio is a place of dreams, and dreams, though always vulnerable, are good for us.

80 Before 80

2010-12-30T10:52:00.000-05:00

I succumbed to the temptation and started a new list ... 80 Things to Do Before I Turn 80 ... I have written down 48 so far (6 years worth if I am counting that way ... which I am not.) It is akin to a bucket list, I guess, but I don't want to do crazy over-the-top things like sky diving or climbing Everest. Maybe I will be so tired of the trite that I will start throwing in things like that, though.

So far, though, I have included things that are on-going like nurturing existing friendships with people I love, taking regular artist's dates away from the lake, and getting back to cross country skiing regularly. I have also mentioned a few once-in-a-life-time things, but really not many. They seem to be falling into categories that have always sustained me rather than exciting things I haven't yet done.

And there are almost no want-to-buy things at all ... just the occasional one that needs to be bought or done anyway... like replacing my ugly, rusting, energy gobbling fridge. Things that I will do one of these days ... not splurges.

I don't know whether this means I am utterly lacking in imagination or simply contented.

Anyway ... I have run out of steam and ideas ... can you help?

What would you put on your bucket list ... forgetting completely whether or not it is possible?

Have fun with this!

Today I am going snowshoeing with a couple of friends and then having them for dinner later. Duck tonight. This is a test of endurance for me (not the duck - the snowshoeing ) because I have lost so much stamina since my fall. If you don't use it, you lose it ... and I can't afford to be a weakling living up here.

Have a great day.

Photos to Come

2010-12-29T03:14:00.001-05:00

I tried to post a photo that Techwood took on Christmas Eve but he was using an application that must be patented or copywrite or something. Blogspot refused to accept it. Too bad. It was cute. My photo was on a billboard outside a bustling cafe in Paris. He used his new phone ... one of those phones that can do everything ... tell time, give directions, act as a compass, take photos, everything but cook dinner and do dishes. I was reminded of Maxwell Smart's shoe phone ... but a 21st century version.

My own photos are all locked in my camera because I left my camera case with all my cords etc. at Tamarack's. I will get it tomorrow when her family comes here for dinner. Then I will share photos of live lobsters and livelier Lily.

Thursday a friend is coming up to the lake for snowshoeing and dinner.

And then, by heaven, it is New Year's Eve.

I haven't managed to stay awake till midnight on New Year's Eve in years, and so I haven't made any plans yet. I don't make resolutions. What I do do is think about the past year and write something reflective and forward looking and put it in the toe of my Christmas stocking so that I will have a record of what has been important in the past year and what my aspirations were for the following one. It is instructive to reread these scraps of life each December.

I came across something I wrote about 1 1/2 years ago entitled "70 Things to do in my 70th Year". I had got as far as writing down #18 ... and had accomplished 4 and started 2 others ...

Of course I also did things I hadn't anticipated doing ... but that's why I don't make resolutions on New Year's Eve.

How do you celebrate New Year's? I bet Barbara and John get in movies and snacks and stay in their pjs all day. Sounds pretty good to me. I think I may try it this year.

Post Christmas Blog

2010-12-27T08:39:00.001-05:00

Well ... Christmas is really not over of course ... won't be for a while ... but today I have a breathing space to prepare for the next phase ... Deb's visit.

Yesterday I came home from the main event and immediately headed off again stopping for tea at a friend's and then on to a wonderful ham dinner at Tamarack's where Baby Lily was the main attraction. Lots of adoring grans, great-grans and aunties and three interested dogs surrounded her and responded to her commands.

I had a wonderful Christmas with Techwood and Scootz ... even Kenya celebrated by watching her very favourite movie on a HUGE screen. She was almost as entertaining as the movie as she interacted with Marley giving him hell every time he was naughty ... and he was naughty very often.

We cooked, ate and drank a great deal.

Christmas dinner was the final triumph ... a surf and turf feast ...

Techwood prepared fresh lobsters, four elegant dipping sauces and a rich scallop dish. I did the simpler things like the red cabbage, brussel sprouts with caraway and maple syrup, mashed potatoes and fillet mignons.. Scootz was kept busy clearing the decks for each next meal.

I am going to give you my recipe for the Christmas breakfast cassserole that I prepared on Christmas Eve and just baked on Christmas morning. It was the easiest dish and a hit.

Ingredients:

    * 4 plain croissants
    * 1 tablespoon butter
    * 2 cups sliced fresh mushrooms
    * 1/4 cup sliced green onion or other onion
    * 4 eggs
    * 1 cup milk
    * 1 cup shredded swiss cheese
    * 1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
    * 1/4 cup parmesan cheese

Directions:

Prep Time: 10 mins

Total Time: 45 mins

   1. 1 Split croissants in half and place bottoms cut side up in one layer in a rectangular casserole.
   2. 2 Melt butter in a fry pan.
   3. 3 Saute mushrooms and green onion until tender and liquid has evaporated.
   4. 4 Set aside.
   5. 5 Beat together eggs and milk.
   6. 6 Pour half over croissants, layer mushroom mixture and cheeses on top, then pour over remaining liquid.
   7. 7 Position croissant tops over the bottoms, cut side down.
   8. 8 Let stand over night in the refrigerator.
   9. 9 Bake at 350*F for 25 to 30 minutes or until set.
10. 10 Cover with foil if browns too quickly.

NOTE:   I used a combination of Jarlsberg and Old Cheddar instead of the cheeses they recommended and I added mortadella slices as one of the layers because Scootz believes that no meal is complete without meat. I also made the mistake of not reading the recipe carefully enough beforehand and so all my croissant halves were on the bottom. I think i t might have been prettier with them on top.

Today I am going out with my snow shoes and I am not planning to eat or drink much of anything!

Almost Christmas

2010-12-23T13:35:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas Everyone!

It is almost Christmas ... my lump is almost gone ... and I am back to walking Kenya (albeit with ski poles in hand). My fitness level is not almost back to the pre-fall condition ... but that too will come in time.

I wish everyone a wonderful Christmas ... accident free ... argument free ... filled with love, peace, forgiveness and joy.

May all your relationships be as stress free as the ones you have with your pets. It's time we all went to the dogs. They know how to do happiness best.

And a very Happy New Year ...I am going to try to keep this thought in mind in 2011 ...

"Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything has a purpose."
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

I Am Back ...

2010-12-16T09:20:00.000-05:00

I feel a bit like a developing photo or the dawning of a new day ... things emerge slowly and the image becomes clearer and clearer with time.

Today is Day 11

It has been a long slow process and it's not over yet, but I got out of my pyjamas for the first time on Day 8, up the hill with Erin and Kenya on Day 9 and into Ottawa with Tammy on Day 10.

Getting up the hill with my recycling and throwing sticks for Kenya made me feel like a kid enjoying her first snowfall. Such a sense of freedom and power.

Yesterday with Tammy was exhausting. I was shakier than I had expected to be and the things I carried seemed much heavier now. There were times when I felt almost light headed. But I did what needed to be done and then we went for lunch at a busy restaurant in the east end. The fahitas were excellent and the waitress was a hoot.

She was the most open person I have ever met. No editing went on at all.

First she reared back and did a double take when she looked at me. Then she stared intently and blurted out, "My god you look just like my aunt. Same brown hair. Same style. Same eyes. Same way of dressing." I bantered back a bit and she said it happened to her all the time.

She launched into a tale about seeing a woman on a bus who she was sure was her best friend. "Same hair. Same waist ... then I remembered my best friend lived in Toronto." Tammy said something about the dopplegangers being out in force, and our waitress took off to fill our order.

When she brought the food she yelped,"Oops, sorry, ladies, I just stuck my thumb in your guacamole."

Then she got into an altercation with her manager over the price of our wine. She managed to get it for us at the price of the house wine we had ordered. I said that should be the policy when they were out of their house wine, and she chirped, "It would be if I were in charge."

After lunch we completed our errands and by the time we got back to the lake it was dusk. We hauled everything down to the house, and again I was surprised by just how heavy and slow the sledding was with a load on board.

I went to bed early after a recuperative bath. Today I will be packaging and freezing meat, emptying dog food into the bin in the porch, and generally dealing with everything I bought yesterday. And then I will get back to my present making.

I am about half-finished making a table cloth and napkins set, and I have several loaves packaged and in the freezer, and I still have to do something with the garden gifts.

I tried to get back to painting a couple of days ago but it seems that the creative part of my brain is still on sabbatical. I did a lot of sketching with chalk and even more erasing. And then my eyes and temple throbbed as if I had been concentrating for hours on a very dense puzzle.

So ... today is tidy-up day ... and then Erin is coming for a walk with me and Kenya.

I hope your day is peaceful and productive too.

Snow Dog Surveys her Kingdom

2010-12-14T11:26:00.000-05:00

Up Close and Comfy

2010-12-14T11:22:00.000-05:00

Downy at the Sanity Saving Feeder

2010-12-14T11:18:00.000-05:00

Brain Rest

2010-12-06T12:23:00.000-05:00

Sorry all ... I called the doctor and was told that I had suffered a concussion and the only thing that would repair the micro-tearing was complete brain rest for possibly 3 weeks ... no computer ... no tv. ... just bed rest. I might sleep 16 hours a day. Also Kenya will have to be satisfied with taking herself outside because I cannot risk another fall or I will be set back still further.

So ... until Christmas you will likely not see much of me if anything at all ...

I will be back asap.

Thanks for all your posted concerns ... and Barbara ... thanks for the call and the orders to call my doctor.

Seeing Stars

2010-12-05T16:38:00.001-05:00

Seeing stars is a slight misnomer for what actually happened when I fell very hard on the back of my skull as I walked down the hill past Lyall's. That part of the road is snow covered glare ice because of the run-off after the rains.

I didn't actually see stars. It was more like a blank space of a split second followed by a shivering sensation inside my skull. As if my brain were re-adjusting its position after having been shaken. But I understood why the cartoonists draw the reeling and the spinning stars when someone receives a blow to the head.

Then the pain started.

I lay on my back on the ice with Kenya standing motionless over me.

After a moment or so I picked up her leash and said we were going home. I got to my feet and we headed back up the hill very gingerly.

I felt the lump that was forming ... already it filled my cupped left palm.

I scooped up snow and held it to the swelling. It melted immediately. I got more ... four more altogether and kept it on till I reached my lane.

At home I applied a real ice pack, took two Tylenols, and got into bed.

All this happened three hours ago and my head is still aching fiercely ... not just the back of the skull where it is swollen but also my entire head and neck.

No ... no nausea. But I suspect I have had a mild concussion.

One thing's for sure; I won't be doing much of anything until this headache subsides.

And now I am going back to bed.

Musing about something I read ...

2010-12-02T11:03:00.001-05:00

Recently, someone wrote: "... I walked my dog (pathetically fettered as I am) ... stared at the hot bar at the Piggly Wiggly ... refreshed my Facebook news feed. What would my life be, if I freed it of circumstance?"

I began to try to unravel the quote.

Exactly what is "circumstance"?

It's just all those things that make up a life, right?

How could anyone be absolutely free of circumstance if s/he were alive?

S/he could, I suppose, simply clear life of all the ties that bind ... everything from relationships to jobs to possessions that make demands on time and other resources. Then wipe out hobbies. Possessions make demands too.

So ... if I were to clear my life of everything that makes demands of any kind, I would get rid of my dog, my house, my car, my computer, books, DVDs, CDs, most of my clothes and household goods, all my art, everything to do with teaching or creating funky furniture, my bike, kayak, skiis, snowshoes, and kicksled, and all the human bonds: my friendships, family ties, group memberships.

What would I be left with?

The clothes on my back and a pack filled with the basic needs I take on trips. My bank book would be heavier, and I would feel infinitely lighter ...

But ...

I would also feel awfully lost.

I derive pleasure from my dog, my home, my computer, my books, my DVDs, my art, from teaching and creating funky furniture, and from the important relationships in my life.

But more importantly they all help to define me.

And I don't think she was talking about clearing out closets or selling off CDs you seldom listen to. I think she meant the things in our lives that demand time, energy and money (which are just other names for time).

The problem with being footloose and fancy free is that it leaves you without a home base and without the security of love.

I have been a nomad (but even then I had my life in storage waiting for me). It taught me that how much I needed to have a home where I felt, not only secure, but enriched, and free to be myself.

Except for Kenya, I have no one depending on me these days, and it is liberating, but it also leaves a hollow space that cannot be filled with activity. If I were to lose the other relationships I value, I would be very lonely.

I think my response to her question is this:

Without circumstance, without all the things that make demands on us, our lives would be empty and meaningless.

It is probably a good little exercise to remind us that we can do with fewer things, fewer demands ... but I honestly don't think it is possible to strip away circumstance and still have a life that is worth living.

What do you think?

at Rowboat Flo's

2010-12-01T13:45:00.000-05:00

creek above road

2010-12-01T13:42:00.000-05:00

Creek

2010-12-01T13:38:00.000-05:00

Check out Erin's latest blog post ...

2010-12-01T10:38:00.000-05:00

Erin has posted a photo showing the new home of one of my funky chairs. It is a great photo.

Erin's post

Privileged

2010-12-01T10:23:00.000-05:00

About a million years ago I was told by a psychic that I would only be happy living within the sound, sight and smell of water. Shortly after that reading my partner and I began spending our winters on the island of Eleuthera within sight and sound of the Atlantic waves crashing on one shoreline and a short bike ride to the Caribbean's more placid shore. I was happy there. The psychic had been right.

But I already knew it was true because I've always sought water as a place to write or study or think.

As a child, I found that peace living on Lake Promenade in Long Branch, right across the road from Lake Ontario, our summer playground. A few years later, I would skip school in order to sit by the North West Arm in Halifax. Later still, it was Lake St. Louis, part of the St. Laurence River system, that drew me to it. Since the late seventies, Pike Lake has been my watery source of sanity and grace.

Today the rains that are flooding our area have transformed my chortling little run-off stream into a torrential rushing river that storms down from the mountain enroute to the lake. It is so noisy that I have had to close the window in order to think, so right now it sounds more like background white noise. But really ... I love the sound of tumbling water. I will take Kenya out soon so that we can visit all the little waterways that feed Pike Lake.

We will likely take the same route we took on Monday when a friend came out to walk Kenya with me. We went up to the Five Lakes Fishing Club, an elite club with restricted membership ... you know ... the kind that can blackball potential members if they don't meet their rigorous class-based expectations.

My friend said, "One day this will all be only for the privileged few."

I replied that it already was.

But he wasn't talking about Five Lakes; he meant everything up here in these hills ... Pike Lake ... his own place with its magnificent view over the Gatineau River ... the Park trails where we have access to nature (as long as we don't have our dogs with us :-)

He meant that in twenty years only the very wealthy will be able to have a stream rushing past their home, or a lakefront property that provides them with peace, or acreage so big that you cannot see your neighbour's house. We are the last generation to be able to live this way without great wealth.

And yes ... I know what a privilege that is.

Grey Days ... No Thoughts

2010-11-30T10:02:00.000-05:00

Today I am starting with a tabula rasa ... a blank screen and an equally blank mind.

I need to do a Costco run today some time. Kenya must be walked. I have some last minute lesson planning left to do because I will be out all day tomorrow .I should get more paint on the chair pieces.

I am finding it a pain in the butt to work on the pieces rather than a whole chair that can be moved as one item and on which I can see the effect of colours side by side.. It will be easier to do the design work ... maybe ... but the basic painting is much slower and trickier. You can place a chair on a drop cloth or a newspaper, but pieces have to be laid out carefully on my table, and, even with care they end up blotchier than they would be if I were painting the whole thing. I try to speed up the process by painting more than one surface and then have nowhere to to dry the piece without damage that will need to be scraped or sanded back.

Next time I will know better.

I wonder if my lassitude is the result of boredom, frustration or just plain laziness and a desire to get back to my current book. I am reading a lot more lately. I bought a raft of good books for the winter, and here it is, not even December, and I have gobbled up a few and am eating my way ravenously through Room.

Room is a strange book. The writer has limited herself to a particularly focused point of view and setting which could have resulted in an absolutely claustrophobic read, but her skill has lifted it beyond the narrow confines she set for herself. It was up for (and may have won) the Man Booker prize this year.

Annabel and Light Lifting were both finalists for the Giller.

Annabel has made me reflect on things I seldom consider. It is a sensitively written story of a hermaphroditic child born in a time and place where the condition was misunderstood and hidden so that the results were more tragic than they should have been. Love, however, makes this ultimately a redemptive novel.

I am giving Light Lifting to a friend for Christmas. It is a very male book. Well written ... but masculine in a way books that appeal mainly to women are not. It is about physicality rather than feelings; action rather than contemplation. Strong detail throughout and all the other positives associated with excellent writing ... but I am more interested in the softer more amorphous things that go on within a person than I am in how accurately the writer is able to convey physical sensations.

I think any athlete with a penchant for reading would love this book which captures a runner's pain, exhaustion and exultation; the physical details of a father dealing with recurrent infestations of lice; and, most often, the pain inflicted on men by other men or by themselves. Because he handles sensory detail so well, the writing is powerful. It is not that other good writers (women more often than men) get at feelings by emoting about them; it's that Alexander MacLeod's focus is on the physical ... and on men and their perspective.

I haven't finished reading all the stories yet, partly because it is so very male, but also partly because I prefer novels to short fiction. I will write a proper review of this one when I have finished it, because I know I have not done it justice. I may have given the incorrect impression that the stories are just about physical pain endured by men ... and the ones I have read are more than that ... they illuminate truth just as all fine fiction does.

So ... on with my day ... hope you have a good one ...

Well, it really is upon us ...

2010-11-28T09:11:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, while walking Kenya, I met a neighbour who said this. He was referring to the snowy chill in the air. I agreed, but I was nicely bundled up in a parka so I wasn't particularly concerned. This morning, however, I understood the truth of what he had said. Oh, I'd had inklings for the past week or so, but today I was sure.

I just learned that it is Grey Cup weekend ... yes ... yes ... I know ... how could I have just learned? Anyway, the Grey Cup is an unmistakable sign that fall has ended; that Canadian winter has begun. So it is official.

I love the white peaceful tranquility of winter ... especially up here on a private road. Snow swallows noise. I think the different quality of light on a sunless day, like the contrast between colour and black and white photography, is lovely. After being outside in invigorating air I like returning to the coziness of my home, especially if I have a fire lit. The lake has developed a silvery skin near shore that is magical. The whole lake is now varying shades of grey, white and silver, except where the water is still a liquid mirror reflecting the warm browns of the crumbling rock face.

Just as an aside ... we now have two signs on the road over there. One is the falling rock danger sign; the other tells drivers that the road is down to one lane; that they must give way. It will be interesting to see what happens on ice (the road is always pooled with water coming from the blasted rock). What if a rock slide happens when a car is on the road?. Will the driver veer off into the lake?

But back to my real problem with winter: the aridity. I do not like what I see in the bathroom mirror. My hair and skin hate winter's dryness. One turns into straight frizz and the other breaks out in angry blotches.

And my sinuses hurt. I can't use my usual sinus meds, the ones that are preventative, because they burn the inflamed and broken tissues, so I am back to swooshing with salt water, using a version of a neti cup. My father did that ... and lived (for a smoker) a long healthy life. I am out of Sinutabs which usually help fight an allergy to woodsmoke. Will have to leave the lake some time today to purchase some.

... grumble, grumble, grumble ...

Just so I end on a positive note, though ... I am having Brome Lake duck for dinner today ... I just follow the simple recipe on the packaging ... and produce something mouth watering. We have excellent grocery stores up here in the hills ... ones that provide us with local and Quebec meats and produce ... but that is another ramble ... and I don't have time right now ... Kenya and I are off for our walk ... and then we will go to the village to run errands.

Oh ... a warm welcome to Helmut ... I am delighted that you are reading my blog ... I will write a proper response to your email later.

Death and Decay ... Happens to All of Us

2010-11-27T19:14:00.003-05:00

Jeez ... look at yourself, will ya? You're a right mess, you are.

This Post Brought to You by the Letter P

2010-11-27T08:44:00.000-05:00

I'd hoped to tell you all about an upcoming gig pig-sitting ... but alas, it is not to be.

The first meeting was not a success. Kenya desperately wanted to play with her, but Olive, the potbellied piglet, rooted about in her crate scream-grunting imprecations at Kenya.

They both started out just sniffing the air and then Kenya tentatively stretched her long nose toward the wire separating the flattened piggy snout from her own moist, black one. As Olive became more and more upset about the intruder near her space, Kenya became increasingly excited about the prospect of really playing with her.

I have seen the same behaviour with cats. Cats that are perfectly comfortable with dogs either in a friendly or dominant way seem to keep Kenya calm. Cats that are fearful excite her. She never fails to chase the feral cats on the lake, but she is perfectly comfortable with Oberon and other cats she has lived with.

When it became plain that these two animals were not likely to relax with each other any time soon, I said I thought we could not pig-sit; that three days of running interference would be just too harrowing for me ... to say nothing of the emotional well being of the animals involved.

So Kenya went out to the car and I had lunch with Olive's human.

While we ate, Olive rooted around under the table, cleaning up crumbs and nibbling on my toes. She is a dear little piglet ... black with wiry hair, a wagging tail, squashed up snout, and delicately sculpted feet. Have you ever seen live pigs' feet? They are lovely ... and incongruous on such a rotund little animal. Reminded me of Petunia Pig and her high heeled pumps.

Right now Olive is about the size of two footballs, but she will double in size by the time she is full grown. She is litter trained (most of the time) and is a vegetarian. I guess the most endearing thing about her is that she is always in motion, always close to human activity, and always vocal. I like animals that talk to me ... and she is even more communicative than Kenya is.

Later in the day, good friends arrived with dinner ... pasta and salad with a Christmas stollen for dessert. Yummy. They had a bit of a time getting up my road ... started to slide off the road and were saved by Peter, my friend, neighbour and carpenter. They parked about ½ kilometre from the house and walked (or skated) the rest of the way.

Leonard who does my plowing had called earlier to ask if he should sand the road. I said blithely that it wasn't necessary; that I had got out and in that morning with no trouble once I spent 3/4 hour scraping the windows. Big mistake. And then when I tried later to reach him I discovered that the number I had was not correct. So my first job today will be finding Leonard and straightening everything out.

My second will be painting the Muskoka chair. I have decided to play with rainbow colours and publishers' logos. Photos will follow when the work begins to progress. It has been long enough since I last painted that I am a little fearful; have to keep reminding myself that nothing is ever permanent ... neither glory days nor screw-ups.

And my third job will be to plan for next Wednesday's class with Pauline, Azra and Diane. I am finding myself looking forward to these classes because I like being with these women. We spend as much time laughing as we do working.

Doggone it!

2010-11-24T12:48:00.001-05:00

Well ... I am just back from the shortest hike in history and heading out for a playdate with Jack, the Golden Lab youngster visiting the lake. More details to follow.

It is noon and I am home again ... this time from a romping walk with Kenya and Sadie. Jack and his human did not turn up today.

I was supposed to go for a 2 hour hike with the Wakefield Winter Walkers. Kenya and I followed Tom over to Carmen Road where we met about 30 hardy souls and one free range Border Collie who immediately told Kenya she was not welcome. I calmed Kenya and reassured her that she was a good girl and two women told her that they were very glad she was there.

Less than five minutes later our welcome was revoked.

A man in his early sixties, an acquaintance, and someone I had had nothing but pleasant dealings with, arrived and barked, "No dogs in the park."

I probably looked a little stunned because I had asked one of the organizers about bringing Kenya. "She's on-leash," I stammered.

He continued in the same rough voice, the same angry fragments of speech, "The 15th . Narrow icy paths. "

I said, "But I was told it would be all right to bring her on this trail; that it was mainly on a wide road."

"Who told you that?" The gruffness had now escalated and hardened into a confrontational tone.

I told him, and his response was, "He didn't check with me. I'm responsible for one of the trails."

Officious little bureaucrat, I thought. But what I said was, "That's fine. I'll take her home."

I have no idea how many people were listening because he was facing the crowd behind me, but at that point he began to try to placate me, to smooth things over, to offer me an option. I could take Kenya on a different trail from the other hikers. An easier trail. Then another short angry burst. "Read the park rules."

"It's okay," I said. "I'll take her back to the lake where I can walk her off-leash with a dog she likes."

"You could take the easier trail," he repeated.

"No," I said. "Thanks. Better if I take her back home. I don't want to break any rules."

I was ticked off ... still am ... The only reason I wanted to go out with the Wednesday walking group was to try out different hiking terrain and meet like-minded people once a week. I get enough exercise walking Kenya daily. And she gets far better exercise when she is off leash and chasing sticks along Pike Lake Road, where she can dash off into the woods or take a drink from the streams or the lake, and where she has good buddies to race with. The winter group will also be skiing and snowshoeing and I do want to be involved in those walks even though it is difficult to schedule anything that does not include exercising Kenya in on Wednesdays just now because of teaching.

This was an attempt to fit everything in on a Wednesday hike when it would have been possible.

I will likely join them next week ... but I really wish my first experience with this new group had been a little less fraught with tension ... especially when Kenya's presence on the entire walk with the others would not have been a problem for anyone.

I had intended to leave her home when we were on skiis or snow shoes or when the walking trails were particularly narrow ... I am just sorry that this week we were sent home with our tails between our legs.

November Rain ...

2010-11-23T10:11:00.001-05:00

This morning Robert Genn, a BC artist, wrote about his teaching experience in a kindergarten class. I copied two excerpts because I liked them.

"One boy came very close and said, "I like you. I really like you." I asked him why and he said it was because I let my glasses hang from red strings."

"The kids went to their tables where gobs of colour and actual stretched canvases were provided. Then the fun began. Within a few minutes some had their paint up each other's noses. Paint was flicked, spattered and drizzled. The tables themselves became Jackson Pollocks."

I began to think about why children derive such uncomplicated total pleasure from art ... why they hate a food, a colour or a smell ... or love it .... just as violently. Part of the reason, of course, is that every life experience is still so new. The rest of us have immunized ourselves to strong sensory reactions.

But it is also because all their senses are still so acute.

Most of us rely far too heavily on the sense of sight, ignoring the other more subtle sensory information we receive continually. Our hearing becomes less acute, our tastebuds dull, and our sense of smell fades, but when we habitually ignore those other senses, we help to kill them.

And that is too bad, because it is those smells and tastes that can evoke memory instantly.

When I smell puffed rice in milk I remember a dark pantry in Mimico. The taste of Scott's Emulsion can take me back to that same kitchen. I was six when I lived there with my foster family, when Mom Hall dosed us every winter day with the stuff that made me gag, and fed us cereal for breakfast. Those memories are nothing more. Just memories of a time long ago.

But some memories are far more evocative.

The smell of fresh air and sunshine, for example. When I bring laundry in from the line or sink into a freshly made-up bed, I am instantly back in my thirties. It is a smell that is both wholesome and incredibly sexy.

I don't use perfume any more. It makes me sneeze.

When I was young, my father gave me Chanel #5 every Christmas. I loved it, but I knew a woman years later, a school secretary, then in her sixties, who wore Chanel #5 better than anyone else. On her skin it smelled like fresh dewy rose petals. On mine it just smelled like nice perfume.

Once in a doctor's waiting room, I caught a whiff of a spicy but fresh scent of something Eastern and exotic when a young pregnant Muslim woman stirred beside me. I thought it was just as sexy as the fresh air and sunshine of air-dried linens ... just as perfectly in harmony with her skin as the Chanel had been with the older woman's ... but far more mysterious than either.

Early this morning I decided to take a walk in the rain to try to remember the feeling of mist on skin, to pay attention . At first the cool wetness did feel dewy, but the droplets chattering against my yellow slicker before sinking into the sodden leaves on the ground, were louder than I had expected. My boots were still fitted with ice walkers from yesterday and the steel studs crunched on the gravel. The streams rushing down the mountain to the lake almost drowned out all other sounds.

I tried to ignore the noise, to pay attention to the feeling of rain on my face, expecting caresses. Instead the drops felt like I were being splattered by innocuous birdshot. Occasionally a large splat landed on my cheek when a leaf dropped its larger puddle. It felt a little like one of those unexpected gifts from birds. The ones that are supposed to bring luck.

And then we were out of the woods and walking along the road. The outlet stream from the lake was swollen, the muddy water almost spilling over its banks. I watched a brown stick being swirled around by the current, and then, in the time it takes to blink, it came alive and darted away ... a muskrat, I think.

On the other side of the lake I let Kenya run free. Stretching her limbs, she began to play and cavort like a puppy, dashing here and there looking for sticks. Then, as suddenly as the rat had done, she tensed and veered toward me, sensing danger from above. Less than a second later a large rock splashed into the ditch water, pushing the puddle over the road. I heard the swoosh as it hit, but Kenya heard its movement past the rock face. Her senses are still intact, still childlike.

After a while the fresh sweetness of rain on my face lost its appeal. My hair was sodden and hanging in my eyes, annoying me. I had taken off my glasses long before because they steam up in the rain. Now I just wanted to get home. The yukk factor had set in.

But I am glad I walked this morning, glad I didn't wait for the wind and sunshine to dry things before heading out.

The frost is on the pumpkins ... and everywhere else ...

2010-11-22T11:16:00.001-05:00

Today was the day I was supposed to get my winter tires installed ... I am beginning to wish that my local garage made house calls ... Everything here is slick with ice and I am not sure whether I will be able to make it up my hill on all seasons.

I took these shots across the lake while walking Kenya yesterday.

I haven't ventured out any further than the bird and squirrel feeders today. Busy making pumpkin loaves. But that appointment is at 1 so I am keeping my fingers crossed that the weather man is right; that the temperature will be up to 10 by then.

My own form of bee keeping ...

2010-11-21T09:04:00.000-05:00

I am off to put the second coat on the chair I am making from a kit. I haven't painted anything for ages and ages ... teaching got in the way. But now I am re-structuring my life. Teaching and enjoying it once a week. Snowshoeing or hiking or skiing once a week. Painting, reading, walking Kenya daily ...

Here is something I found for a beekeeping friend. Hope you like it too. And I hope you all have bees to keep or asparagus to grow ... or babies to hold tight ... whatever you need to help you find your own well of patience and courage ... whatever you need to find peace.

Advice to the Young by Miriam Waddington

1
Keep bees and
grow asparagus,
watch the tides
and listen to the
wind instead of
the politicians
make up your own
stories and believe
them if you want to
live the good life.
2
All rituals
are instincts
never fully
trust them but
study to im-
prove biology
with reason.
3
Digging trenches
for asparagus
is good for the
muscles and
waiting for the
plants to settle
teaches patience
to those who are
usually in too
much of a hurry.
4
There is morality
in bee-keeping
it teaches how
not to be afraid
of the bee swarm
it teaches how
not to be afraid of
finding new places
and building in them
all over again.

Chelsea and Gramma ... who's in love, eh?

2010-11-20T15:38:00.000-05:00

More About Singleness After Sixty

2010-11-19T10:08:00.003-05:00

A comment on my last post prompted me to write this one. Yes ... by all means, go and hug your husband. You do not want to be out there in the singles' scene at any age ... but after sixty ... you really do not want to be out there trying to find a partner.

The sad reality of being single and lonely when you are older is that it is not too likely that you will find someone you really want to live with even if you haunt every singles site on or off line.

I wrote about the man making his 91st attempt in the last few weeks, but he is not unique. He may be lonelier and more persistent than most of us, but he is not alone in his failure to find a compatible mate after sixty.

At the singles meet-up I attended last week, most of the people there were very old friends ... some dating back twenty or more years. Any attempts to get together now would be almost incestuous.

Perhaps even worse was the recent experience of a friend of mine. She joined a singles group ... and discovered that the entire membership was female.

The saddest thing about it all is that single people who are still looking for love are not allowed to age naturally. I think I was the only woman at that meet-up last week whose hair was greying naturally. One woman sported a head of beautifully coiffed brilliant red hair and didn't have a single wrinkle or sag. She was attractive but she didn't look quite real. The concerns of the men were a little different, but some of them too were struggling with aging. If they had been in relationships that had survived over the years or even ones that were still relatively new but established, would these men and women be forced to hang onto youth so fiercely? Would it still matter whether they were still highly sexed?

Jokes about erectile dysfunction and Viagra and Cialis abound in our world. But I wonder how it feels to be one of the butts of those jokes ... no pun intended.

Not too long ago I had a conversation with someone about this, and realized that it is really is no laughing matter. A man loses his sense of who he is when he loses his desire for, or ability to perform, the sexual act. And he doesn't have to be someone who defines himself by his sexual prowess to feel that way. It is simply something that has always been part of him, and he misses it in the same way that people miss limbs when they lose them. No different from how women feel when they lose a breast to cancer, I suspect. But it is really closer to what a woman would feel if she were forced to undergo genital mutilation.

Erectile dysfunction can destroy marriages. Even women who say unequivocally that penetrative sex is the least important part of lovemaking have to be affected when they cannot arouse their partners, or when their partners no longer have any interest in initiating sex. The most generous and loving men may be able to preserve that part of their marriages for a while, but eventually it will become somehow unnatural. And when sex is no longer part of the relationship, an important lubricant is lost; an important glue disappears. I suspect a great many marriages have been saved by the ability to kiss and make up.

But it is even worse for singles over sixty.

They find it much harder to establish a romantic bond if sex is non-existent. Of course they can establish friendships, but to be honest, friendship is easier with someone of the same sex. That whole thing about Mars and Venus doesn't simply disappear when a man loses his ability to get or maintain an erection; it is a psychological difference between men and women, one that has been nurtured from infancy ... especially in people over sixty. Without any of the excitement of sexual tension, why would most people search out friends of the opposite sex?

Until I began to explore this subject a bit I thought ED was as no more serious, just as fixable as vaginal aridity in women. It isn't. Vaginal lubricants are easy to use. There is no stigma attached to them. And they are relatively cheap. Viagra is priced by the dosage and can cost as much as $100 a pill. Because Viagra and Cialis are drugs taken internally, there are additional problems with possible drug interactions and use must be carefully monitored to get the dosages right. They will only work if the right conditions are met.

Remember the old days when women had to get everything right in order to use diaphrams? Remember our medical concerns about the birth control pills?

Well Viagra and Cialis operate something like blood thinners.

Many of the men who need help are also suffering from other health problems like diabetes, heart disease and prostate cancer. If they take these aids for erectile dysfunction, they are creating a potent drug cocktail.

I guess the saddest thing I learned in all this is that no one really gives a damn.

If a woman complains of dry vaginal tissues that tear, most people are sympathetic. She can get help, even prescription help that is covered by her medical plan. She can talk to other women and learn from their experience. Younger people may not empathize with aging but they understand vaginal pain, especially if they have borne children. There are jokes about mood swings in menopause ... but no jokes about painful vaginal sex.

But if a man complains about erectile dysfunction, he is laughed at, avoided or even treated with disdain. By all kinds of people. The drugs are not covered. Men who have not suffered the loss themselves are not usually sympathetic. In fact, since men tend to relate in a competitive way, there may even be a sense of one-up-man-ship.

So ... Most men simply hide the problem.

Until they meet a woman they might want to have a relationship with. Then what?

I wonder if the complete absence of men in the singles group my friend just joined has anything to do with all this.

Don't get out much ... but when I do ...

2010-11-16T08:25:00.001-05:00

Don't get out much, but last night I went to a dinner gathering of older single folk and had a good time in spite of the fact that large groups of strangers intimidate me. It is not just shyness; it's everything. It is exactly the opposite of my peaceful hermitic life here at the lake. For one thing it is noisy, and I find that the ambiant noise created by conversations coming in all around me in stereo makes it difficult to concentrate on the conversation in which I am engaged.

I went with someone I already knew which made it easier. He was comfortable with everyone there and introduced me as the hermit from way back and beyond. That was sufficient information to scare off most of the men, and the women were too busy entertaining men to be concerned with another women. Because of the unusual gender balance there were about 3 or 4 men for every woman.

I met a few different men but stuck pretty close to my buddy, and then, when the food arrived, we became a threesome. The man who joined us was a stand-up comic, better when just interacting in everyday conversation than when he actually gave a staged performance, partly because, in the conversation over dinner, he was dealing with his own strange life.

His main occupation these days was finding himself a mate through every means available to him. To this end he was meeting or dating 5 days a week. A full time job. I laughed out loud as he detailed the search.

He told us about the profile he had created. It was outstanding enough that I had seen it on the dating site and remembered it. He said, when I told him, that many people read it but not too many contacted him.

This meant that he was forced to become the instigator. (I had trouble deciding on the right noun. Somehow, any of the words that mean he became the seeker rather than the sought had strong connotations of stalking.) And this man seemed not to have a single grain of aggression in him. He was simply desperate to find love.

So on to the hunt.

First of all there was the winnowing process which he thought he had finally perfected. It was a numbers game, he said. He spent many hours researching the site and sending off smiles to every single possibility. He said at first he had agonized over whether this woman or that was THE woman for him. He stopped being so picky after sending off several carefully worded personal missives that were ignored completely.   His strategy now rested on the premise that if they were breathing and female they were worth a flirt. .He sent out hundreds of these greetings.

Then came the actual correspondence with the 10% or so who seemed interested in learning more about him. In the first real communication he sent out his CV. He reasoned that by doing so, when they actually met, she would already know everything there is to know about him and they could concentrate on what made her interesting. I questioned the efficacy of this approach. Seems to me that I'd be wondering whether this was someone interested in me or just another cold call ... another business transaction. Certainly lacked the human touch.

Emails escalated to phone calls with some, but apparently safe dating practices make phone communication problematic. Women will not leave call back numbers. He said it creates an uneven playing field. I just wondered how he could manage to keep that many strange women straight in his head.. How does one remember their names let alone their interests or the number of children they have?

He discovered that some women are happier sitting in front of a computer screen than actually meeting in the real world. He quickly dismissed that type.

About half did agree to meet.

During those initial meetings he said there were three possible outcomes:

    One party will be enchanted by the other and meet with utter disdain, disgust or boredom.

    Both will be desperately waiting for the mandatory fifteen minutes to elapse.

    Both will be so caught up in the experience that time will fly.

He didn't mention the fourth possibility: that one would wait outside the arranged meeting place, see him coming, and vanish.

Most of his experiences had been somewhat negative, but a few women had been downright cruel in their rejection.

Last week he met #91 and fell in love. No, I am not kidding. #91. I swear.

Well ... maybe not love yet ... but they had a first meeting that was the best possible kind. They found themselves so interested in each other that three hours sped by and they decided to have dinner the following evening.

#91 was the third or fourth such happy find. She was supposed to meet him at this restaurant last night but had begged off because of an incipient cold.

I do hope that he doesn't have to continue on this treadmill; that there is a happy ending. I hope that #91 works out and that they will get married and live happily ever after. If anyone deserves it, this man does.

Movie and Book Reviews

2010-11-14T20:24:00.000-05:00

Today I watched Full Metal Jacket ... not exactly uplifting for a November afternoon when it was dark so early and then raining. But a fine movie. Vietnam ... the reality show ... one that revealed just who the Americans were who were doing the fighting ... a whole range of young men from the almost feeble minded to incredibly brutal to intelligent.

The star, if there was one, was a sensitive thoughtful young man who should have been studying in some ivory tower instead of spewing bullets thousands of miles from home in someone else's senseless war. On his helmet, crudely lettered, was "Born to Kill" ... and on his lapel, a peace symbol. Said it all.

Yesterday I watched Hannah and Her Sisters. I expected to hate it. I have not liked many of the movies Woody Allen has produced and acted in. I think my dislike goes back a long way to a sex scene that was supposed to be funny, but which inhibited me for a very long time.

However; I enjoyed Hannah and Her Sisters..

Woody Allen is more likeable in this one ... just as neurotic but redeemed by love here. And the other characters are more human as well.

I have also started reading Alain de Botton's A Week at the Airport. He writes well (likely the reason he was chosen by British Airways to spend a week at Heathrow writing about it). But I found myself wondering just what purpose the book serves.

The organization reflects the realities of the airport ... Approach ... Departures ... Airside ... Arrivals. Approach is his introduction to the project. In Departures he takes us from the hotel to landings to luggage retrieval and architectural notes and then gives us vignettes of people: the disappointed traveler, the farewells of two lovers, business travelers, a family on vacation. This one is the most complex as he explores the family relationships. This section ends with a description and some musings about the prayer room. I have just entered the Airside section, and gone through security, and am now in the duty free shopping area of Terminal 5.

I don't want to dismiss the book before finishing it ... and it is certainly not painful to read. But apart from being a vehicle for the writing of a good travel writer who brings all his international experience to bear on his description of this airport, I am still wondering why he was hired to write the book in the first place. It reminds me of the kind of exercise all writers indulge in when they are biding their time. As we put in hours waiting for planes in airports or meals in restaurants or friends who are late, we all observe and reflect and write copious notes in our travel journals. It is that kind of book.

November at Pike Lake

2010-11-12T08:07:00.000-05:00

Nuthatch

2010-11-12T08:02:00.000-05:00

A Day for Remembering

2010-11-11T09:46:00.000-05:00

Remember us too! A grey squirrel just came to my den window (yes ... on the second floor) to remind me that I haven't been out to the feeders yet this morning. He is very bold ... and Kenya could hardly believe her eyes! Just be patient until I bring out cereal, dried apricots and almonds along with the sunflower seeds.

Remembering New York: I met with my newest students yesterday ... a pleasant lesson ... nice people ... They are travelers so we are spending the first few lessons planning a trip to New York City. It works out well because Azra, one of the women, is going there in December. It brought back memories of my only trip to that city. Memories both good and not so good. But isn't that the way with most things?

And of course it is Remembrance Day. The last few years I taught, my senior classes studied war literature every fall and then, on November 11, shared with the rest of the school their feelings and ideas. I don't think a single student emerged from that experience without feeling a profound respect and sadness for the soldiers who gave their lives and limbs in the wars, young men not much older than they were. But merged with that sympathy was a repugnance for war. I experience those same feelings every November 11.

I don't think that pacifism and respect for those who fonght are contradictory at all.

And I don't think that feeling sadness for the loss of all those young lives on both sides of a conflict is a sign of disrespect or lack of patriotism. I am sure that the lives of young Germans and young Japanese were and are as valuable as those of young Canadians; that each of the soldiers who fell left behind people who loved them and unfulfilled possibilities.

A friend recommended Pierre Berton's Vimy, so I have ordered it. May we never experience that kind of wholesale slaughter again. I doubt if we will ever see an end to war, but let us hope that we have learned that human lives have more worth than we accorded them during the world wars.

Self Portrait

2010-11-10T07:24:00.000-05:00

On Writing or The Freedom to Emit Brain Farts

2010-11-08T09:41:00.001-05:00

Someone borrowed a number of writing books from me last year and has yet to return them, but has been kind enough to quote advice from one of them: On Writing by Stephen King.

The advice goes something like this:

You take two totally unconnected headlines or news stories and create the plot for a story or novel.

Today's CBC on-line headlines:

Marriages of convenience problems persist

Obama: 'India has emerged'

The melding of these two could lead to a story about massive immigration problems for the Indian sub-continent. Just imagine all those Indian men being tempted by economic refugee women desperate for a better life. Imagine the birth rate that could result. Remember that India has a caste system and no one-child policy to prevent a population explosion. And what about the social problems caused by the skyrocketing divorce rate.

My father married a woman from Czechoslovakia ... a Hungarian by birth ... who thought he was a rich Canadian. (He was on an expense account and lonely on his annual three month business trip.) The marriage lasted a year or so and then they began to split the assets. She got half the record collection of Shakepearean plays; he got half the wine glasses they had received for Christmas; she didn't like Shakespeare and he drank only whiskey. It was not an amicable break-up.

Now try setting that in India in an age of computers. An American hard hit by the recession meets an Indian man on-line. They marry as soon as she arrives. He has cleaned himself up for the occasion, but in real life he is of low caste and living in poverty. Their honeymoon results in a pregnancy and by the time she learns that he doesn't even own the computer he used to propose, she is trapped on the sub-continent. No credit card. No return ticket. Nothing but a worthless American passport. And no help to be had from her embassy because India has "emerged".

What does she do?
Imagine their conjugal life.
She hates him, the country and her life ... and she especially hates Obama for giving her the news that India had emerged ... until he told her, she had no idea where India was, let alone that it was submerged or encapsulated ...

So how will the story end?
Madness? Murder? Infanticide? Political assassination? Suicide?

Almost like the last scene of Hamlet which my father's ex-wife probably never managed to discover.

Or maybe you believe in happy endings. Try to find one here. She's probably wandering the crowded streets of Delhi among the revered Brahmin cattle, hand outstretched, mumbling, "Where's the beef?"

The other two headlines contain gems of stories when examined singly. Whatever might happen if they were combined?

Pope met by gay protesters in Spain
Oops! They were wrong about him.

Queen Elizabeth joins Facebook
However will she learn to write in disjointed splurts at her age? Or maybe dementia has already set in and this is her answer to the problem?

And together?

A Facebook correspondence between the two conducted on their walls for all the world to see. And by god, they have high speed, so the correspondence could be voluminous. At least it's not likely to spawn a marriage of convenience or unwanted babies.

... and then there was the article that arrived in my in-box this morning ... all about how laptops are frying testicles ...

Just imagine how that piece of information might make its way into either of these stories.

You can see why I have abandoned my Nanowrimo attempts.

I do wish I had my Stephen King book back though. I miss it. Maybe I could get some more ideas to play with. God knows I need something.

Lazy Weekend

2010-11-08T01:11:00.000-05:00

I have done everything possible to avoid writing this weekend. I hate my Nanowrimo novel attempt this year. I have decided to stop and simply write short travel pieces instead.

So, how did I manage to procrastinate this weekend?

I read a good bit of Great Maria by Cecilia Holland. It is an historical romance (all history should be written this way) about a woman who lived in France during the era of Christian knights fighting the Saracens. Maria is the focal point of the novel and is a fully realized character. We see the woman, the wife and the mother, but we also understand the time and place through her story. I found the juxtaposition of cruelty and kindness; of harshness and gentleness, of strength and weakness most striking. All the important characters are very believable partly because Holland shows how these extremes of human nature co-exist in them. The setting brings out the extremes more clearly than a modern day environment would, but of course people today are equally complex and contradictory, just more sophisticated, and therefore better able to mask their true natures.

On Saturday I had the underside of my car oiled. I was delighted to learn that despite the filthiness of the vehicle, the old girl is still pretty rust-free. Next summer Denis will do a thorough cleaning ... steam and shampoo ... before oiling.

I took Kenya for a long walk while the job was being done. Hadn't been to that area for a long time. Lots of memories of walking dogs and kids there.

Kenya and I walked here daily, but the walks have not been as energetic as they usually are, because I have been forced to keep her leashed. When hunting season ends next weekend, it will be a relief for all of us ... the dogs which must be restricted, the humans who don't dare walk in the woods, and the deer which are constantly being harried.

I unpacked the pieces of a Muskoka chair kit and then wondered whether I really wanted to attempt putting it together or whether I should paint it first. After checking with a friend who will likely do the actual construction for me, I decided to paint the pieces.. That is how I will avoid writing next week! It will be good to get back to painting furniture again.

And I watched three movies ...

On Friday it was Coming Home (the sexiest movie I have ever seen ... one steamy scene in the 2 hours and 19 minutes ... and that between Jon Voight, a man who returned from Vietnam dead from the waist down and the woman he loved played by Jane Fonda..) The other two hours were filled with compassion, empathy, love and laughter.

On Saturday, I watched The Young Victoria, a very different love story.

Tonight I watched The Queen, a portrayal of Queen Elizabeth II at the time of Diana's death. The contrast between Elizabeth and Victoria was remarkable. Elizabeth was about my age and had been reigning since she was not much older than the young Victoria.. Both women were vulnerable, but Victoria had yet to learn to hide her vulnerability beneath an iron exterior. Both were bound by the restrictions of rank. Both had prince consorts, but, oh how much more human and humane Albert was than Philip. Many of the differences between the two women were the result of the times and circumstances, I suppose, but also of the disparity in their ages. Elizabeth had carried her burden most of her life and her character had been fashioned by her responsibilities and disappointments, whereas Victoria had still to experience life and loss.

I also tidied up my catalogue of films and the actual shelves where they are kept.

And I played a bit with the format of this blog.

I moved the feeders around and established a little centre for the squirrels where I placed pecans. When I looked out later, the nuthatches, chickadees, and sparrows were darting from the woods to the line and the feeders. Two grey squirrels and a red squirrel were scrounging around on the ground cleaning up the mess left earlier. And the table was alive with blue jays. The nuts had disappeared.

A weekend filled to the brim with the mundane but at least I have extricated myself from a thirty day time waster which was giving me no pleasure or satisfaction at all.

Indoors and Out

2010-11-06T09:51:00.000-04:00

More ways to put off getting on with the day ...

Waking up over tea and email on a Saturday morning ...

2010-11-06T09:19:00.000-04:00

Coutresy of CBC News

Edmonton police guilty in 'sweatbox' case Two Edmonton police officers were found guilty Friday of insubordination and discreditable conduct in the so-called 'sweatbox' incident, where police rounded up homeless people in a police van to dump them on the other side of the city.

Flesh-eating disease alert for Calgary's homeless Calgary homeless shelters are being told to be on the lookout for anyone with symptoms of flesh-eating disease after two cases surfaced.

Sure wouldn't want to be poor in Alberta!

Kenya chases the squirrels as requested ... but now that I have foiled their attempts to get all the food, and, in the process, destroy the feeders as they leap onto them from chairs and tables, I am feeling sorry for them ... especially for the soft grey one that reminds me of Bambi, the only grey squirrel we fostered. He comes up and knocks on the window pane ... driving Kenya mad and touching my heart.

Do you get these spam emails with just a few words in the heading? I like finding them there, especially when my strange brain makes connections among the words. Today I wrote a silly poem using three that arrived in the night.

WORDS THAT COME IN THE NIGHT
a bunch of e's and an f

exuberant     erected     estranged
all arrived last night

I thought

what about ...

excited    evaluated       elusive

and later

empathetic         enchanted         engaged

but surely not ...

enigmatic   evasive     enslaved

or ...

edgy    expendable   ejected

maybe ...

enticing   electric   emotional

definitely don't want to be left ...

empty   embittered   exploited

or for you to be ...

extraneous   extinguished   ephermeral

just want us to find something ...

enduring   eternal

and most of all ...

fun

And now I really have to get on with the serious business of living my life. There is tidying to be done, a Nanowrimo novel writing session to get through (god it is awful this year), and bird seed to be allocated ... and yes ... peanuts to be strewn.This afternoon I will get my car oiled for winter and then protest the possible loss of the Wakefield spring. In the middle of the night (I have insomnia) I brought in a Muskoka chair kit I bought three years ago ... it needs some loving paint strokes and then I will assemble it ... or maybe enlist the help of a friend.

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone.

Procrastination by Strawberries

2010-11-03T13:53:00.000-04:00

I am having trouble attending to my Nanowrimo duties today. It has a lot to do with having nothing to write ... or too many possible ideas ... and being unable to commit to any of them. In the course of doing some research anmong old novel starts and other writing, I came across this poem written about 5 years ago.

I still like strawberries at 70 by the way.

barbara's strawberries

today i ate
strawberries
savoring their fresh
red.

heather reminded me
i should be thinking about Wednesday,
poetry and
strawberries.

my unblocking book tells me to face
my inadequacies, my fears,
my fears of inadequacy.
so i am.
the memory
on my tongue of those
strawberries.

thoughts intrude
quite unsuitable to
strawberries
especially
at my age.

in two months, an old
age pensioner, and
strawberries
just another high
fibre food.

better than prunes, i suppose:
strawberries.

strawberries,
the birthmarks, are aberrant, but
wrinkled prune faces are
simply ubiquitous.

cast my mind back to the sixties
to other, wilder
strawberries.

bergman's. and
those given to me
by children with stained hands.

so many hours spent picking
enough wild
strawberries
to make a single jar of jam
a gift of love.

later domesticated
strawberry
patch in kinburn
baskets and baskets
filled counters, freezers, jam jars,
became my spending money
like hagar's eggs.

ripe then, fecund,
milk leaking from breasts whose
strawberry
nipples brought joy.

now other things are supposed to
like poems about
strawberries.

clear now, the origin of
the raspberry.
that snort of derision
should have been called
the strawberry.

Nimble

2010-11-03T08:30:00.000-04:00

Nimble: such an old fashioned word, but exactly right in certain contexts ...

Jack, be nimble ... Jack, be quick. Jack, jump over the candle stick!

What is the effect on you when you recite this?

It makes me jumpy, unable to concentrate.

In an interview with CBC this morning, a political scientist used the word nimble. It was in the context of the US constitution having been designed to create gridlock, a situation that forces hot headed political opponents to slow down, discuss, and reach compromises. He was saying that this might not be such a good thing in today's world of instant communication, a world in which swift decisions are being made by impatient up-and-coming nations like India, China and Brazil. Our world, the one that always waited for the US behemoth before acting, is changing. The US president and his Democrats, now that conservative forces have so successfully changed the political scene, may not be nimble enough to make decisions quickly.

In the seventies when I was in university I needed to see something from a personal point of view in order to understand the bigger picture. I needed to imagine how a law would affect me. I needed to empathize. It is hard to do that when you are talking about whole nations, about numbers. It is the reason that I made the decision to do my degree in English instead of political science, even though I loved both.

Now I find myself moving in the opposite direction: starting from the concept of a country and going from that to my own small reality. I too am often immobilized by gridlock. Sometimes I feel as if I no longer govern my life. Like the US constitution, my mind is no longer nimble enough to make snap decisions. And I too live in a world where things move far too quickly.

I don't like being battered by several demands for my attention.

When I write I do so in silence.

I find too many simultaneous images distracting. My limit is movie sub-titles and it is hard to knit even then. If I owned a television I would likely mask the bottom part of the screen so that I would not be distracted by those coloured headlines that scroll beneath the news reportage and film coverage.

I find many websites truly annoying because it is impossible to concentrate my attention.

I am saved from Facebook and Twitter by being forced geographically to endure a dial-up connection.

Our whole world seems to have speeded up and left me behind.

And you know what ... I don't think it is an improvement over the slower pace that used to prevail.

Is it really that important to hear something immediately?

Do we need instantaneous reactions or could we wait for thoughtful coverage of world events?

Do teenagers really need to be so connected that they cannot ignore a cell phone or a text message while driving?

I once saw a young Toronto woman answer her calls during a VSO interview day. Not only was it inconsiderate because VSO works with whole groups of candidates on these days, but it definitely worked against her. How could someone so dependent on instant communication manage two years of living and working in the low tech world inhabited by VSO volunteers?

And maybe that's part of my discomfort. Not only do I feel that we need time to reflect in order to make sound decisions and to be healthy human beings, but I think that many people who have no technical know-how at all, just plain, common sense, practical knowledge, are living fuller lives than those of us who are more connected. They don't spend a third of their lives in front of a small screen. They are the people who will survive in a disaster because they know how to live with very little. They are the people who can manage without electricity and computers. They can make fires, build shelters, grow and find food ... and write with pens to record the experiences.

They are the people who will create communities because they already know how to interact with real people in real time in real places.

And maybe all this is simply the foolish rambling of a seventy year old woman who has chosen a much slower life style and who complains but really prefers the speed of dial-up, the challenges of power outages and the enforced isolation of snow blocked roads. Maybe it is simply the squeaking of an old.country mouse who who lives more reflectively now that she is less nimble.

7 Jays

2010-10-30T08:50:00.000-04:00

This morning I was up with the jays ... seven of them ... two or three at a time rocking the feeder at the front and scattering sunflower seeds to the others on the snow covered ground below. On the lake side, sparrows ate more sedately, one fluffed up little soul huddling in the seed tray itself. Kenya bounded out the front door and chased the jays who then took over the back feeder.

First snow up here ... a dusting only that rests on branches, ground and porch roof.

I just received word that a very old friend has died. John was a good family man, husband, teacher,and friend. We were all young and poor and in our twenties when I knew him and his wife best. We sustained each other through some pretty hard times back then. Heather taught with me at Briarwood Elementary School while John was off work.

I was a single mom with two kids and very little education; they were a little better off because they were a couple with one baby and the good sense to have got their education before embarking on a family, but those were pre-medicare days, and John was very ill for a time. We all lived in an apartment building on the wrong side of the tracks ... and practically on top of them. We provided each other with practical help, like rides to work, the occasional loan of a car or babysitting. Cups of sugar, recipes and samples of baked goods passed freely between our households. But it is the shared laughter I remember best. We giggled while tumbling down hills with our children at the Arboretum or dressing up for a Hallowe'en party. We went on picnics with our kids. Those were the years when we were money poor but rich in youthful energy and dreams. I haven't seen them for several years now, but they were a large part of my life ... and I am saddened that John is gone; that he will live on only in such memories.

Procrastination

2010-10-29T11:55:00.000-04:00

October 29, 2010
Organizational Friday or Procrastination Depot

I have just finished tidying my chest freezer and inventorying its contents in order to discover what I need to buy to stock up for winter. (I have been told I am the only person in Christendom who has a catalogue of her DVDs ... and now this!)

What I discovered: I do not need to buy ground beef or sausages until 2020.

Likewise chicken thighs and pork tenderloins.

I am not terribly keen on chicken thighs and that is likely why I have a surplus, but I suspect that the reason for everything else is that I can never find what I am looking for in the cavernous depths so I always eat from the top down.

Does anyone out there have a simple solution for keeping a chest freezer's contents under control and available?

I am thinking of boxes or bins of some kind.

The birds are busy emptying the feeders ... jays, chickadees, red breasted nuthatches, snowbirds, downy woodpeckers, and sparrows so far. The red squirrels continue to be foiled by the cds that hang along the line between the trees and the feeders ... or maybe they are simply content with the seed that the jays deposit on the ground.

My next task is to organize the bins and satchels containing teaching paraphanalia.

And then I will get down to writing based on last weekend's writing workshop.

Maybe.

I just read an article about procrastination. Apparently we procrastinate because our various selves are thrashing things out. The first step we need to take is to identify those different warring selves. Blogger Oma is often at odds with Lazy Oma who cannot abide my tidy self. My persona that detests such things as bills and taxes is always at loggerheads with most of the others. Then there are Funky Furniture, Reader, Movie Buff, Gardener, Dog Walker, and... and... and ....

And that is why we clean out a freezer rather than go through a sloppy in-box (the real tangible wooden kind that contains bills) or sit down to write a travel piece. Of the three, the most enjoyable is undoubtedly the writing assignment ... but it requires time and effort .... concentration ... whereas the freezer just is ...

I am trying to clear the decks of distractions ... so that I can write. Maybe the travel pieces. Or maybe start something for NaNoWriMo. Monday is November 1, the beginning of the next challenge. I might decide that it won't be a novel this time ... and ... if I do it ... I won't subject you all to the throes (and vile prose) of daily first draft NaNoWriMo writing.

Instead my blog posts might become 5 minute warm-ups for the contest. Or maybe they will be become a means of putting off writing the book. NaNoWriMo Oma foiled once again by Blogger Oma.

Procrastinator Oma who has played a game, hung out a load of laundry, spent an hour on the phone, cleaned out the compost pails, and packaged the outdoor solar lights and their batteries after sorting according to viability ... instead of getting on with the business at hand ...

Whooo .... Spooky ...

2010-10-28T16:01:00.000-04:00

Morning Walk

2010-10-28T15:56:00.000-04:00

Happy Haunting

2010-10-28T15:50:00.000-04:00

Grey Day Wake-up Call

2010-10-25T17:50:00.001-04:00

I spent most of yesterday at a travel writing workshop given by Laurie Gough. There were about a dozen of us there ... all but one were women. Laurie did not start with one of those artificial circle introductory sessions ... she let things unfold naturally by creating situations in which we chose different partners with whom to interact, so we all met a variety of people and shared our passion for travel and writing.

Laurie relies on the same books I use when I teach writing skills ... Nathalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones; Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird ... and on the work of some travel writers who have published books about travel writing. But mainly she reaches into her own experience as a travel writer and as a freelancer.

It was a very good workshop, not only because of the solid content base but also because of the people involved. Writers all. Travelers all. Interesting people with stories to tell, experiences to share.

Often these local workshops are peopled only by Wakefielders, but this one attracted a range of people from as far away as Montreal. And they brought with them stories of backpacking in the Himalayas, years spent in India or Indonesia or the Fijian islands. Most of them had traveled solo, and all their stories revealed a sense of adventure. I heard stories of trips gone bad, youthful naivete resulting in terrible mistakes, miraculous rescues, and discovery of one's roots far from home..

We spoke of honest writing and balanced observation; of ways to structure our chronological memories so that they would hold together as stories and maintain interest. Laurie views travel writing as stories with plot lines, set in interesting places ... and most important, peopled by fascinating characters. She touched on things like effective dialogue, concision and vibrant prose, and the workshop contained elements of teaching, group interaction and individual writing. The course could have been much longer than the 6 hours she had allotted.

At the end, people wanted more ... more opportunities to work together ... more chances to share with one another. We hope to create a writing group, perhaps on-line, maybe getting together once a month or so.

I spent a good part of today walking Kenya and later taking a friend to the Ottawa terminal ... so more tomorrow when I am up for writing again.

The house felt emptier than it has for the past while ... and greyer. I will have to fill it with colourful words and paint, I guess. It's time ... and maybe I will start with one of the ideas birthed by the workshop.

Life in the Slow Lane ... again ...

2010-10-22T08:32:00.000-04:00

So ... yesterday I got lost in a parking garage ... well actually it was my car which was misplaced ... finally I asked a young man what one did if one lost one's car ... and he said, "Report it stolen." After my first stunned reaction I laughed and he said it had also happened to him. Then he explained the strange layout of this garage and wished me luck. I began again and this time I saw my car on a level below me. How to get to it though was not quite as clear but I managed. My left brained reasoning worked where my right brained sense of direction had let me down and the old girl and I were finally reunited.

The other parts of the day were a lot less stressful and the highlight was holding Lily who stretched, yawned, snuggled into my neck, and pooped contentedly, all the while making soft little whistling and snorting noises.

My garden is almost tucked away for the winter, the steps I've fallen down twice now have a hand rail, another hand rail has been fixed, and two new bird feeders are feeding the gluttonous jays.

I am thoroughly enjoying my vacation from teaching and stress ... and sleeping through the night ...

Life is good but it does not make for very exciting blog posts.

I am beginning to feel the faint stirring of artistic urges again ... pumpkin carving and small postcard sized paintings of ideas for furniture are beckoning, tempting me to get out my paints.

Have a great weekend. I will be at a workshop on Sunday but the rest of the weekend is blissfully empty so far.

New Beginnings

2010-10-16T09:26:00.000-04:00

I could also have called this post "Life After Teaching:".

In 1997 I discovered that there was a wonderful life awaiting me ... one that centred on enjoyment without deadlines, reports or marking loads ... I retired. Oh ... I kept on being active. In fact I kept on teaching ... but in places like Jordan, Mongolia and Kenya. It was also the era of discovering just how much enjoyment could be derived from things that cost little or nothing ... writing ... rollerblading ... kayaking.

Then came the big change ... an end to a life filled with travel and volunteering opportunities ... a beginning to a life with a puppy ... a life that occasioned the building of this house with all its related problems ... a life that demanded money, often more than I had.

This past June I re-entered the work force almost full time and discovered during those five months that I still loved teaching ... and this time really enjoyed the students ... all older international travelers who were interesting people. But I also realized again ... or was reminded of the fact ... that life in the work force robs you of time and energy ... and at 70 both of those are in short supply. Anything that is in short supply is far too valuable to be traded for money. And besides, my house is comfortable now and so I can live on what I have without having to make more.

I have decided to limit my teaching from now on ... Enough to give me the pleasure. Not enough to deprive me of my daily walks with Kenya, my leisurely mornings at the computer, my relatively clean house, my attempts at art and writing ... but most of all, I am reclaiming the freedom to get up in the morning with a blank calendar page to fill in all kinds of pleasurable ways.

I am rearranging my life starting today.

And the first things on my calendar are a dinner party at Erin's this evening, two weeks with a new friend to just have fun and get things done around here to prepare for winter , (we are planning to carve pumpkins) ....and a travel writing workshop with two friends and six other people.

And you never know what will emerge from an artist's date, time to develop a little boredom, days spent with new folks, or stirring up your intellectual curiosity, do you? Perhaps the next phase of my life will be very different from the last one. Or maybe it will simply be the last happy one spiced up a little ...

Lily after a night's sleep in the real world

2010-10-07T19:48:00.000-04:00

... another reason to believe there's more to life than meets the eye ...

Hard not to believe in heaven these days ...

2010-10-07T15:01:00.000-04:00

BJ, the Good News Bear

2010-10-07T09:03:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I saw Lily's pre- and post- arrival photos ... sweet with a masses of hair ... exhausted happy mom, grandma and "auntie" ... delighted dad ... and smiling grandpa ... Lily has entered a loving family circle.

I stopped taking my Vitamin D and am beginning to regain my energy ... had the second test yesterday ... will get the results next week ... it seems you can't believe anything you read about how to keep healthy these days. I had read that 2000 units of Vitamin D was a healthy level to take daily ... everyone from the cancer society to the osteopaths were recommending it ... so I got my dosage up to 1800 ... and may have freaked out my calcium.

I really am beginning to think it is better to simply eat properly, exercise, keep your weight reasonable and keep dogs if you want to stay healthy. Then throw in a little human companionship, intellectual stimuli, and a garden ... and you have paradise. I hope that my doctor concurs when she gets the test results!

Olive and Chelsea arrived this morning and will be with us for five days. Olive is staying outside till she is sure of her new surroundings, person and dog. Chelsea is inside sharing an uneasy truce with Kenya. You may remember that Chelsea is the very old lumpy English Lab who is an incorrigible food thief and is on medication for tremors. They are both nice girls and in a few minutes I will speed up the adjustment process by taking them all for a long walk.

Then I will make a pot of chili con carne using local beef, my own tomato sauce and other stuff from the garden ... my own and that of local farmers.

I am going to take a break from teaching after Helmut and Ottilia leave, entertain a friend and fellow writer for a week or so, and take a travel writing course during that time. I plan to relax and live a healthy stress-free life for a while. I want get back in the habit of sleeping at night, playing during the day, and working when necessary. Maybe get some of the outstanding chores accomplished. Maybe start writing and painting again.

And now I am off to dress and walk puppies. Enjoy your day.

Lily has arrived

2010-10-05T21:01:00.000-04:00

8 lb. 6 oz. ... by Caesarean ... finally ...Jesse, Eric, Lily and Tamarak all doing well and madly in love despite sleep deprivation ... Congratulations everyone ...

High Calcium Levels

2010-10-04T19:35:00.000-04:00

So ... my doctor's office called ... they want to do more blood tests because my calcium levels are too high. I always thought it would be a good thing to have lots of calcium. Nope ... it always means there is a problem. The most common one is hyperparathyroidism ... 98% of cases of high Ca ... The second cause is cancer ... but ususally not the cause if you are not really sick with a malignancy.

So ... what is this hyper parathyroidism? I am not quite sure but I do know it is fixable ...

And these are the symptoms ... I have starred my own ...

Symptoms of Parathyroid Disease
    *Loss of energy. Don't feel like doing much. Tired all the time. Chronic fatigue.
    *Just don't feel well; don't quite feel normal. Hard to explain but just feel kind of bad.
    *Feel old. Don't have the interest in things that you used to.
    *Can't concentrate, or can't keep your concentration like in the past.
    Depression.
    Osteoporosis and Osteopenia.
    Bones hurt; typically it's bones in the legs and arms but can be most bones.
    *Don't sleep like you used to. Wake up in middle of night. Trouble getting to sleep.
    *Tired during the day and frequently feel like you want a nap.
    Spouse claims you are more irritable and harder to get along with (cranky, bitchy).
    Forget simple things that you used to remember very easily (worsening memory).
    Gastric acid reflux; heartburn; GERD.
    Decrease in sex drive.
    Thinning hair (predominately in middle aged females on the front part of the scalp).
    Kidney Stones.
    High Blood Pressure (sometimes mild, sometimes quite severe; up and down a lot).
    *Recurrent Headaches (usually patients under the age of 40). (*just starting agai after years of being headache free.)
    Heart Palpitations (arrhythmias). Typically atrial arrhythmias.

So ... at least there's a reason for being exhausted all the time ...

Now to get things back to normal.