Family Christmas

Last weekend was my family Christmas and hubby and I, along with my brother and his wife, were in charge of the event. Our extended family is large with many siblings, spouses, children, grandchildren, and even some great grandchildren. The picture above seems to embody the wonderful history stored in my mind: of my Dad driving Maudie and giving sleigh rides to all and sundry, of beautiful decorations made from fresh greenery and red ribbons, of many special gifts to be opened Christmas morning.

All of those remembered things have changed somewhat but they have been replaced by new 'traditions' and I am pleased to feel the ongoing thrust of our family into the future through those new and exciting things. We have people of every colour in our group now and we are much richer for it. We have families of many different groupings which all seem to love to get together.

Even if I wasn't a churchgoer, I would still treasure Christmas as the one season where everyone is happy to reach out to family, friends and even to strangers. There is an expectancy in the air as we rush through the malls, looking for that last thing, and then, happy to find it, rushing home to finish the wrapping. Today my thoughts are on what I need for the turkey dinner with all the trimmings which I am masterminding for Christmas Day, especially for my hubby. He loves the tradition and is happy to help with it all. I am lucky to have him in so many ways but especially for his delight in Christmas.

And so to all who happen upon this blog this day, Merry Christmas. May your day be joyful and softly meaningful as you celebrate your own traditions. Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way...........

Crafty Christmas Cards

Here is the picture I used for my wonderful new crafty Christmas card this year. One day last week--and only one!--it snowed, and I raced out at noon to take a picture. The sun was shining but lots of the snow was still left. I loved the blue sky in the background.

From my digital camera's memory card inserted into my printer port, I transferred the picture to my computer, and Microsoft Publisher's card template simplified the process of putting it all together. First I printed the picture on page one of the card stock purchsed at Staples. Then I printed my personal message on the inside by running the stock through the printer again. I had to make sure I got the card stock in the printer correctly or I would have had my message upside down or on top of the picture--you get the idea.

Finally with Elmer's glue, a not-so-steady hand, and spoonfuls of clear sparkles, I glittered up the spruce and maple trees, the garage roof lines and the reindeer on the lawn. With sweeping lines of glue I outlined the driveway and dropped the glitter on top. Then I poured off what didn't stick, let the cards dry overnight and popped them in envelopes to mail.

Dear Santa

Today is the first snowfall of winter and I have started thinking about Christmas. In my mind I see pictures of Christmases long ago and Christmases more recent. I see the concerts in a one-room school house where we acted out the Christmas story for eager parents and grandparents while babies nestled among coats piled on desks, innocent in their drowsy napping; at home large, full Christmas trees, laden with lights and lovely balls of every colour, lovingly placed by small hands and crowned with a great star at the top; the shopping trips with my Dad to get Mom's presents, all bought in a spirit of generosity and love; Boxing Day parties with our house full of the smell of steaming wet mittens, of the sounds of noses sniffling, of the din of aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, all laughing and talking, happy to sing and celebrate together; the tremor of excitement coursing through my body as I tried to get to sleep because tomorrow was Christmas and if I could just get to sleep, when I woke up you would have come.

More recently, I remember the brightness of Kevin's eyes as he took in the magically-lit tree of Christmas morning with all its wonderful world of joy spread around the room; of Beth's look of amazement and a little confusion as she opened one present after another amidst piles of discarded wrapping paper; of Ron's laughing voice as he looked at his children enjoying what he and I had created for them, shouting "Let's open another one!"; of a look shared between us, over and over at the palpable joy in our little home that morning. Oh, those were some magical moments in our lives and you, Santa, were so much a part of it.

Another aspect of Christmas has always been the way it brings people together in joy, putting aside petty differences to jointly celebrate the birth of a tiny baby two thousand years ago. People on the street can't wait to shout Merry Christmas while rushing to finish their last bit of shopping. Shoppers take time to drop a fiver into the Salvation Army Santa's pail, hoping that others will find peace and happiness in the season as well. Children wait in long lines for their chance to tell Santa their own hopes and dreams, some happily, others overwhelmed, but all feeling that something special is happening.

And so, this Christmas of 2006, when our children are grown, with homes of their own, when the patterns of a lifetime are changing yet again as we eagerly embrace the future, I hope, Santa, that you will continue to bring hope and joy to children of every age, that the world will take a page from your book and adopt a pattern of giving until the number of gifts bewilders the one receiving, that the wonderful freeing spirit of Christmas will write hope and happiness where once was despair, that peace and tranquillity will be given to those in darkness, and that we might all come together as one in our quest for hope and contentment for all the work. Please work on it, Santa, and we will, too.

A Super Suzuki Day

On Sunday hubby and I were invited to Guelph to see our niece's two children play in the Suzuki Christmas event at River Run Centre. Anxious to spend time with our niece's family (my brother Ross' daughter), we approached the concert as a cute preliminary and looked forward to starting our yearly Christmas celebration of concert events.

Upon arrival at the centre we quickly spotted Hugo who directed us to the seats the older two children were saving. We have not seen enough of these children to have them know us well, so this was a 'getting acquainted' visit for the first while. The two older ones, M. and I., showed us to our seats and we settled down to wait for the start while they jumped up and down, giggled and laughed happily, and just seemed to enjoy everything that was happening. Their father and mother came and sat near us and the concert began.

Various teachers of Suzuki trooped their various-sized charges on stage in a very orderly and disciplined fashion. The teachers played with their students and I was struck by the clarity of tone as the violins and cellos matched their teacher's tone. Suzuki is an interesting method of learning, to be sure. From older students who were quite comfortable performing for many audiences (as they told us), to the wee tiniest tykes with fake violin bows doing a rhythmic drill, the concert was well done. The children all knew their places and joyfully joined in at their times. Finally everyone was on stage, all one hundred and eighty of them, and they played Silent Night, a moving feast for ear and eye.

From the stage the children trooped to the large foyer where millions of cookies and plates of fresh fruit awaited and there most of them stopped, making it hard to get near the table to get a bite. We were not unhappy, though, as our waistlines don't need the sugar, but our willpower is often more like won't power! This way we weren't tempted to try for another bite.

Afterwards we went to our niece's lovely little corner house and had a wonderful time with the four children, all of whom took turns telling us little things and inviting us into their lives. E. hanging from the exercise bar in the doorway, couldn't believe that I was his great aunt, saying, "That can't be right!" as I explained how his grandfather and I were brother and sister just like him and his sisters. G. sat on my knee as we chatted after supper and I delighted in holding a little one--she is five. I. is sure of her own way in this world and watching her smile was delightful. She asked me to make her some earrings once she gets her ears pierced and I took that as an affirmation of my own self-made ones. But my biggest surprise came on leaving, when M. whispered to me that she had put something in my purse for me to open on the way home.

As we drove down the 401 we had lots to think about. Hubby fondly remembered E. taking him to see his bedroom where he sleeps on the top bunk. Up he climbed and asked hubby to climb up, too, which he did all the while hoping that the bed would hold him. I told hubby of the older two girls playing a duet on the piano and we marveled at how happy and unselfconscious these children are. Then we remembered the gift in my purse and I rumaged around to find a lovely little handmade card from M. She was thanking me for the necklaces which I had made for each of them, but her 'voice' was so joyful and true that the card was a treasure. That she had done this on her own made it all the more special. Thank you, M.

This was a joyful Sunday afternoon and evening for both of us. We look forward to our extended family Christmas where we will know these children much better and they will know us. Would that every Sunday could be filled with such family fun.

Berton House Writers' Retreat

Last night hubby and I received our first Christmas present of the season--a wonderful evening 'on the town' in Toronto at the 4th annual Berton House Writers' Retreat gala in the company of our son and a very good family friend.

We left here at 3 p.m., picked up our friend in Woodstock and then set out for Toronto, normally a one-and-a-half-hour trip. Luckily the four of us had lots to talk about and the extra hour plus on the high-traffic road went by easily--well, for those of us riding blissfully in the back seat!

The gala was held at a Chinese Restaurant on Spadina called the Bright Pearl and the food was excellent. Milling about before the dinner were all the Who's Who from the Canadian literary scene; my only regret is that I haven't been keeping up with all the new writers. Anyhow my friend travels in elevated circles and he introduced us to Vicky Gabereau, Janet Berton and Catherine McKinnon. Gabereau was disappointing as she barely said hello to me before she was on to her next thing. On the other hand, Janet Berton, from her wheelchair exuded charm and goodwill. She seemed truly genuine, glad to meet all those who had come to this event named for Pierre. When my friend asked if I would like to meet Catherine McKinnon, I immediately said yes as I remember her from years back--probably 25--when she and her sister (Patrician Ann McKinnon) and her then husband (Don Harron) were performing at a Cancer Society event I attended in Toronto. Imagine my surprise when we twisted through the crowd trying to find her and she turned to be the lady I had chatted with in the washroom. We were both surprised to see each other as my friend introduced us. She said, "I already met you in the washroom!" and we had a great laugh.

The silent auction and the live auction raised lots of money for Berton House and watching the antics of the auctioneer and Linda Lundstrom of designer coats fame run up the bids to the max was intriguing. Lundstrom was especially good at it, topping off her contribution when two bidders wanted the designer day with Linda Lundstrom and had the bid up to $3000. She took the mike and got the two bidders to each pay the money and, then and there, donated an extra day, thus increasing the income to $6000 for the charity. I guess she is as good a business woman as a designer.

I assume the clock ticked on, although I wasn't aware of it, so enthralled was I with the event. All too soon we were watching the final presentation, a videotape of Pierre Berton reciting "The Shooting of Dan McGrew." My mind flew back to my childhood in the one-room schoolhouse where I first discovered Robert Service's works. What a perfect cap to a lovely evening--Pierre Berton, that prolific Canadian giant, reciting Service's signature poem on the north. The ironies were abundant and I thought how wonderful to be able to see Berton performing so well, even though he has been gone for three years. Made me think of my Dad and his love of reciting the same type of poetry.

So Christmas has started well for us. This was a gift that will keep on giving as I ruminate on it for the next while. And who knows? Maybe one day someone I know will spend time at the Berton House writing up a storm.

A New Craft!??

Last night I was in the Dollar Giant store looking for glitter for my handmade Christmas cards--I got that idea from Martha Stewart yesterday--and what should I see but a little package of quilling paper. Now most of you probably know what that is but if you are as behind-the-times as I was, I'll tell you. Quilling has nothing to do with feathers off ducks or turkeys. It has nothing to do with old-fashioned writing. Rather quilling is the art of making wonderful designs out of thin paper strips and then assembling them to form flowers, geoshapes, dots, etc., and then affixing them to a surface. The paper comes in varied colours but I have been really intrigued by the creamy bone white. The package I got for a dollar, shown at left, has multi shades in it so I'll use them to get the hang of it and then move on to other colours. It also has the instructions on the back and the quilling tool to get me started. Not bad for a dollar, eh?

Back to Martha Stewart for a moment. I couldn't find the glitter I wanted but found a package of white card stock with envelopes for a reasonable price. Now I just have to decide on a picture to use and find the glitter. I am looking forward to creating these cards for all my friends and family. Usually we do a funny letter, contest, quiz or something clever, creative, or cute. This year, something new.

So that means two new crafts doesn't it? Creating Christmas cards and quilling. Life is good.

I Like Dogs

Yes, this title will surprise some of you, I'm sure. While traveling with my buddies last weekend I came under a lot of scrutiny for my lack or enthusiasm regarding dogs. I even got a little tired of it, but mostly I got tired of having to explain my feelings on the matter. So today I am venting a bit. Sorry, folks!

My Rules For Dogs

1. Don't bark at me.

2. If I decline your sniffing inquiry about using my lap once, don't ask again.

3. Stay out of my stuff.

4. Don't jump on me.

5. Don't sniff at my privates.

6. When I am eating go away from me. Your sad begging eyes do not add to my meal.

And the MOST IMPORTANT ONE--

7. Don't throw up all over the place.

All that being said, I do like dogs. I like them outside running in the bush beside me and my son, and dashing off to chase that squirrel. I like them curled in sleep in the sun with not a care in the world. I like them keeping me and other little two-year-olds out of harm's way. I like their attachment to and their faithful caring love for their owners.

I don't think dogs take the place of people but, as I look back over my list, I can't help noticing my dog rules could apply to people as well. Maybe they are closer to people than I thought.

Thanksgiving?

Early last Wednesday morning hubby took me to rendezvous at Tim Horton's with my sister-in-law and a friend for our journey to New Hampshire. Up at 5:00 a.m., on the road at 5:40, meeting at 6:00--it all meant for a long day. We drove from Woodstock to Montreal and turned south to eventually cross into New Hampshire. From there we flew along famously, arriving at Paula's house about 5:00 p.m., just in time for some sustenance and relaxation. I hadn't seen Paula's new place and was interested to see her cute little house in an established neighbourhood with lots of trees and a small lake just down the street. The beauty of New Hampshire!

The next day was the American Thanksgiving when all stores were closed and most restaurants. We had a great afternoon hike up a pretty steep mountain trail--a challenge for me, the oldest of the group--with Toby and Oscar, Paula's dogs, tearing exuberantly all over the lovely natural scape. I loved seeing the little green bits of lichen and moss which were much more noticeable than usual because most everything else was brown and winter ready. After the hike it was time for us to get ready for our dinner party at a friend's house. The only catch was no shower at Paula's place (under construction). Not to worry, we were invited to use the shower at her friend Bill's place. Bill was away for Thanksgiving so had given Paula the key. Kind of nice, I thought. Paula had showered at fitness earlier so dropped the three of us there, laden with towels, hair dryers, clothes--everything we'd need for our respective transformations while she did some errands.

About five minutes before we expected Paula back, the doorbell rang. When RoseMarie and I went to open it, we saw a woman peering through the sidelight at us.
"Who are you?" she blurted when we opened the door. Of course we had no clue who she might be but she soon told us this was her house and we had no business being there. Thinking we could solve the problem we said Paula had let us in and explained Bill's permission.
"Get out!" she yelled.

From that point on, things went badly. We were trying to explain and she was freaking and threatening to call the police. Donna said for her to do that if she wanted. She did. All of our explaining did no good. Her problem was that she and her husband are extranged, in the throes of getting divorced and there was no reasoning with the woman.

I was ready to leave and stand on the curb to wait for Paula, but for some strange reason Donna just sat tiny in the big black leather chair and said we'd wait for Paula. We weren't going to wait in the cold. By this time, the woman was on the phone with the police and telling them a small part of the truth. She managed to persuade them that they should come out. When she found out that Donna was Paula's mother, she said, "I pity you," and then proceeded to vilify Paula. By then, I had had enough of trying to assure the woman that everything was alright, as RoseMarie and I had both been doing, and said that we didn't need to hear her talk about Paula. And then the doorbell rang again.

This time it was Paula's face peering through the window. We let her in and grabbed our bags of stuff to take to the van while crazy woman yelled at Paula. Last out the door, Paula's arm was caught as the woman slammed the door on it. About a block from the house we saw the police who were on their way, but we kept going. In the van Donna explained a bunch of the background to the story and we came to understand why she didn't want to leave till Paula got there. Suffice it to say unwittingly we had ended up in the middle of the domestic battle of the century and Paula was very apologetic. "Not your fault," we all chimed and soon started to find the humor in the situation. When we arrived at the party we had lots to talk about but the first thing we did was accept a good drink from Hazel, our wonderful hostess for that great evening.

On reflection, I've decided that American Thanksgiving is quite different from the Canadian one I know.

A Secret Story

That hot and dusty day in July they were looking for excitement, she with her pigtails flying as she ran down the gravel road, he with chubby cheeks flaming as he chugged to keep up.
"Wait up, Carol. Wait up!" he wailed.
Stopping and turning Carol watched as her little brother came towards her. "Where are were going?" he called.
"How 'bout we go on an adventure? D'ya wanna go to the old Tabor place?"
David's eyes lit up. "Should we? Mom said we had to stay out of there."
"I know, but let's just look around, okay?" Carol was already walking up the lane.
David took one look back towards home and hurried after his sister.
Now the old Tabor place had a bit of a history. A few years before, old man Tabor had lived there in a trailer parked on one side of the lane while in the old house, now long since gone, Mrs. Scott had lived with her two sons and daughter. There was someting funny going on there because three of her children had the last name Scott but the youngest one had the last name Tabor and lived in the trailer. Whenever Carol talked to her mom about them, her mother had a way of clamming up and clipping her tones short and sharp.
There was an eerie silence as the two children walked slowly up the lane. Dandelions and thistles covered the yard, having overgrown part of the cement sidewalk up to the house ruins. Bricks and boards buckled under the weight of a tree fallen right across the blackened foundation.
"Better stay out of there. I don't think it's safe, do you?" Carol turned toward David but he was on his way to the trailer still on the property.
"Let's go inside!" David bubbled, peering through the door panes. "It looks like there is stuff against the far wall." He tried the door but it didn't budge. Looking around his small eyes lighted on a smooth stone which he scooped up. Before Carol could stop him, he smashed the glass out of the small pane on the door.
"What are you doing? Are you crazy?" but by this time he was in and she followed him, checking behind to see if anyone had heard the noise but there was no one there. Stacked against the wall in the bare living room were dozens of windows. All shapes and sizes. "Let's smash them!" The idea popped into her head and she ran out to get more stones. Together the two kids pitched stones at the windows, one after the other, roaring in delight at the deafening crash as each one shattered. Soon every window was broken.
"What have we done?"
"I hope nobody heard us."
"We better get outa here!"
"Quick! Run! Ohhhhh!........."
Bending double so as not to be seen, they sneaked away, sobbing.

These People Care

Last night hubby and I were entertained as part of the good-bye to Oxford Community Care Access Centre committee members past and present. The administration is being moved to London so the smaller committees are not needed any longer. Arriving at Elmhurst Inn at 6 pm, we found our way into the special room for our event. There was my brother, Wayne, the current chair of the committee, and several others, most of whom were strangers to me. Soon some great teacher friends appeared and we sat with them through the dinner reminiscing and having a lot of laughs.

As I looked around the room, I was impressed by the people I recognized to be workers in our community. There was Ron C., a tireless and exhuberant worker for the Cancer Society and many other charities. At our table sat an 81-year-old former M.L.A., orthodontist, and community supporter, still positive and connected to life. Across the room were a couple of former teachers, both workers in politics and countless community volunteer projects. It seemed to me that I was among a select group of people and glad of it.

The short video presentation quietly presented a tribute to these workers as we silently watched. Sort of like the way so many people work in the community, not making much noise but creating a great impact. I felt honoured to be among such a crowd.

A Million Dollars!

If I had a million dollars, if I had a million dollars...so goes the popular song which strikes a wistful chord in all of us. Last Friday night hubby and I had the opportunity to witness our local Explanding Our Horizons campaign exceed its objective of a million dollars, an extraordinary accomplishment for a small community. The funding goes to support major renovations of the arena, with upgraded ice-making equipment as well as major improvements to the building, to revamp the large hall with a movable wall able to make two halls, with an extra small kitchen in the smaller space, and to build a new library, primarily funded by the County. Quite a lot for a small rural community and two years ago the goal seemed unattainable.

Nevertheless, a small committee of dedicated people kept at it until the goal was reached. What a life lesson for all of us. Don't give up. Keep your eye on the prize. You can do it. All of these sayings underline the theme. And now we are enjoying our renovated community centre as well as our brand new library.

The library comes at a good time for us personally, as we are selling our big house, and many of the books in my large collection. I no longer buy many books, only special authors or titles. I am intending to use the new library; hence I signed up for a library card last week when we toured the facility. It is lovely, spacious and inviting. The couches before the large fire place call to me. Some cold snowy day, I'll make that my goal on my walk and sit and read before the fire. There is a long bank of computers ready for searches and courses. The children's area is bright and colourful with lots of books. When I move from this house I expect I'll donate whatever books I can't sell to the collection at the library.
The newest project on the go is a new Emergency Services building. The hole is already in the ground next to the library. Ambulances will pull in on one street, park in the garage, and exit on the other street, eliminating those backup beeps which could be pretty annoying for the condo people across the street. The building should be completed in the spring.
All in all, our small village is looking pretty good with three new subdivisions going in, a Business Retention and Expansion project just getting into high gear and young people making the community theirs to live in and to improve. It's as though these tough projects make us strong. I certainly thought so at the affair last Friday when people joyfully got in on the bidding for many things but especially a large granite rock. The price went up to $3000 for this marker. People just couldn't seem to get into the bidding fast enough and the community is the winner, with about one million and thirty three thousand dollars raised. Good for us!

Knitting Woes

Today I write of my frustration with a knitting project that just doesn't like me. Two years ago around this time of year I was given a sweater pattern which I liked and decided to try. Now I am not the world's most accomplished knitter but I've made dozens of mittens on four needles, a few toques, sweaters, and an afghan. Anyhow, I purchased a lovely dark royal blue yarn, soft to the touch but sturdy enough to last. Soon I was well into the project, knitting rapidly whenever I got the chance. (I love to do this while watching TV.) I got into a problem with some of the instructions and took them to the store where I had purchased the wool. They didn't know but gave me the times when a super knitter would be in the store so I could ask her.

A few days later I went back and this super knitter gave me her take on the instructions. Needless to say, I was glad to get that help. Home I went and tried her suggestions but we still didn't have it. I called the store and was told they had no one to help. What to do? Where to go? I thought and thought until finally I remembered a friend's mother just outside the village who was a super knitter. I took the project to her and she worked on it for a couple of days. When I got it back, she had ripped back a few rows to fix the problem and reknit the piece. I was elated. She told me how to continue and I did, finishing the five larger pieces--back, two sleeves, and two fronts--in short order.

It was time to put it all on a circular needle to knit the yoke but spring had sprung and my thoughts were on the outdoors so I shelved the project till fall. Only thing is I let another whole winter go by till I picked it up this fall. Putting all the pieces on the circular needle took some doing but I managed to succeed. Then beading got in the way for a couple of weeks. Finally, I started the forty-some rows of the yoke. This would be a snap! Well, maybe not. Once again, a funny instruction got the better of me. This was was Sl1K, which was defined as slip one knitwise. What the heck is knitwise?

I pondered for a couple of days, tried a few things, ended up ripping them out, and finally called my super knitter. "Haven't you got that sweater finished yet?" she teased and then easily explained that knitwise means as though you are going to knit the stitch. Simple. Off I went again, but all too soon I was sure something was wrong and it was. This time I figured out what the pattern had left out (pulling the yarn forward and then back again after the stitch.) I'm getting smarter, I thought. I worked across the 300 or so stitches but when I got to the end of the row, I realized I had made a mistake as the pattern didn't come out evenly. I was short two stitches. And I put it down. I give up. I am going to call Elsie and see if she can finish it for me, but first I have to rip out most or all of that row. Maybe some day I'll have a completed sweater but not any time soon.

An Assault On My Psyche

Last week while I was at the gym, a place I quite like going, one of the staff asked me if I would do an hour appointment for a TrueStar evaluation. She needed to fill up her sheet so I agreed, although I told her I had no intention of signing up. Thinking it might be interesting to see what the representative would say, I went back to the gym Monday afternoon, having already done my workout in the morning.

We crowded into the tiny office at the back, all five of us. Yes, you heard it right, five! There I sat faced by the talker who never met a person she wouldn't try to sell, her protegee, there to get instruction, and two of the gym staff whom I know and like. At the outset all was fun and I made a couple of jokes which they picked up on. We were hitting it off quite nicely. Then it was down to business and gradually the mood changed. Only the interviewer and I were talking. The others were just listening to all that was said. This felt somewhat uncomfortable as I had not expected to be the centre of attention for a group session. It was as though I was in the centre wearing a dunce cap and the others were heckling me or just observing the heckling.

I watched as the talker punched my information into the computer in response to my answers. First the normal stuff: name, address, phone, email--I wish I hadn't given that!--and then we moved to medical history. I have rarely had anything go wrong in my life except for one major incident 13 years ago, so I had a litany of no's until it got kind of funny. She then asked me about my bowel movements which I hesitated to answer. This was getting pretty personal, especially with an audience. I mentioned a procedure I am having this week and her interest pricked up substantially. I downplayed the procedure--it really is no big deal--but then she wanted to know exactly why I was having it. I balked. "It's private," I said.

Her black eyes widened and I could just imagine this was not the answer she was wanting, especially in front of the three trainees. "You choose not to answer?" she asked.

"That's right," I replied. "You don't need to know."

From then on the interview proceeded without incident except that at least twice she alluded to her inability to assess something because I wouldn't tell her my details about that one thing. I felt the seat get hotter each time. Finally I watched as she proceeded to the 'store' part of the program. Now I've bought enough online to know there is a payout at the end and I would be the person paying. "I haven't told you I'm joining the plan," I interjected.

"Oh, I'm just putting in what I recommend," she hastily replied, as she continued to fill in the Buy box with "1" until she had four or five products. She went too fast for me to see the cost but I knew it was getting up there. Probably at least $200. Finally she was done and I was presented with what I needed to be perfect. Of course, I think I'm pretty good now. What would the total be for someone who had a lot of ticks in the previous health/history part?

I knew my time to exit was nigh and however graceless that would be I was getting out. "Thanks for the information," I said, as I rose and opened the door. No one else got up. "Was there something else?" I asked and got a negative reply. My bullying session was over. As I drove away and for the rest of the afternoon, I pondered what had happened. I knew my trainer, one of the watchers, would be upset and when I went to the gym this morning that was confirmed. Not to worry. I learned a couple of good things and the rest I'll just let recede into oblivion, memory inducers notwithstanding!

Going to the gym?

All our lives we have loved to be active but as time has passed that desire has receded. We all take our kids to sports like hockey, baseball, figure skating, ringette and a multitude of other active sports but somehow we forget to do these things ourselves. Earning a living, having family time, relaxing, doing things in the community all get in the way of taking care of our bodies, so that in this last third of our lives, we have to plan active things to keep our bodies moving. Hubby gave me a gym membership in July and I have written about it a couple of times. It has helped me physically in changing fat to muscle, reducing my body by 10.25 in. at last count, and making me stronger. Mentally the changes have been much greater. I am back to my chipper, cheerful, look-forward-to-the-day self. Yay!!!!!!!!!!

We go to Norwich Family Fitness, a new facility with quite a history. When we first moved here 30 years ago the building was a sizable brick home on the main street. Then, a couple of entrepreneurial types bought the property, put on an addition, and turned it into a lovely funeral home but, as we already had one in the village, the business died--no pun intended!--and soon the building was empty. (Along the way the proprietors' marriage died as well!) Next came a restaurant, complete with drive thru window, and it lasted a few years, slowly expiring like the business before it. The inevitable For Sale signs went up and weathered many a year before the gossip in town was that someone was buying the building and putting in a fitness centre. Well, it took quite a few months before this actually occurred but open it did. We villagers have been working out and loving it ever since, with more and more people going all the time.

I have just returned from my fifth visit this week and I feel good. It's Saturday morning and I've already done a good thing for me! So. Are you going to the gym?

We're not in the mood

Today is Halloween but, though goblins may knock, we will not be answering. We choose to be elsewhere tonight. Why is that, you say?

Since we have lived on this street--thirty years now--the rest of the village have called it the 'new subdivision'. Kind of gives you an idea of the pace of life in a rural village. Anyhow from the first year we were here hordes of revelers have rung our bell every year looking for treats. Ordinarily that would not be a problem but the important word here is hordes. Cars come and park at one end of our street and the kids jump out on the run to hit every house. I'm not sure where all the cars come from but somehow our subdivision has become the mecca for treat-hungry kids. Every year somewhere between 160 and 200 kids ring our bell and most of them have no time for anything but grabbing their candy and running.

Lest you are wondering we do love kids and we like Halloween. The little ones all dressed up are cute as can be. We have fun with them and enjoy chatting up the parents who are watchful just out of the light from our porch.

Several years ago we really got into the swing of things. We bought alien costumes from Wal-Mart and adopted voices from outer space. (The picture at right is a pretty good likeness.) We loved hearing the doorbell ring. The little ones were pretty scared but Mom or Dad would encourage them and they helped themselves to the candy we held out. Occasionally one would balk and run back to their parent. The funniest one was a girl about 12 or 14 who started up the walk at the head of her group of teens. In my growly voice, I asked, "What do you want?" She stopped dead, looked at her friends, and took another couple of steps towards us. "Why are you here?" hubby growled. The girl turned on her heel and beat a retreat, calling out, "I'm getting out of here!" Her friends followed and we laughed to ourselves.

Do we sound mean? I assure you we are not. We just decided to make Halloween about the little ones. To them we were very nice and tried our best not to frighten them, even going so far as to use our natural voices. All too soon our candy was gone and we decided to go over to our daughter's house. She was away on a course but her hubby was there on the porch giving candy to little ones as we approached.

"You guys are pretty big for this, aren't you?" he asked. We just grunted, afraid he'd recognize us. He held out the candy dish and we declined, shaking our alien heads. He stood there at a loss. Thinking our son-in-law knew us, hubby started to walk past him into his house. Before our eyes our calm and friendly son-in-law became Godzilla. "Where do you think you're going?" he growled.
"Just into the house," we laughed.
"No, you're not!" and his body filled the doorway.
As always in tricky situations, I started to laugh. Hubby started to laugh. And after a minute or two, son-in-law started to laugh, too, as he realized the joke.

That was a great Halloween and the memories make me smile again. I guess this year we are just too busy, with hubby teaching two nights this week, planning a community event for one night and working full time during the day. So, this year, we're just not in the mood, but next year the aliens may invade again.

Weekend Wanderings

Saturday hubby and I had a busy day. Bright and early we headed for the gym and did a cardio workout for half an hour. After that we gathered up our computer paraphernalia and headed for my brother's place to scan and save family pictures for our family Christmas the second Sunday in December. Looking over the old pictures was fun and we scanned in 45 of them. We'll go back another day and get about that many more for the computer presentation at the family Christmas. It's a great way to bring back those who are gone and have fun together laughing at what used to be.

We stopped for lunch in Stratford and then took the drive to Kenilworth to see the Quality Homes factory. Of course we had already seen a couple of models in St. Mary's but we were unprepared for the beauty and grandeur of one of their bigger homes, the Maitland. We are ready for small but went in just to look. What a beauty!

Back to the Ridgestone, though. It presented beautifully with two columns rising from a half wall to the left upon entering the front door. The whole plan is very spacious, yet cosy, reminding us so much of our favorite holiday place, Marriott's Grande Ocean in Hilton Head. We were a little disappointed in the person who was there to answer our questions as sales is not his job and he basically let us do all the talking. Ordinarily that would be fine but we would have liked him to tell us features, possible problems, and many other things. Nevertheless it is a very impressive and professional setup, showing us that modular homes are quite popular and secure.

Our ride back home was most interesting as we had so much to talk about. This next life step of ours is going to be great but it needs lots of research. Well, we're up for it!

Teaching Again

Yesterday I took a flying leap...well, actually I taught the first session of a three session course in Word. Not having taught for almost 8 years I was slightly nervous but I only had one student and we did the class here in my office so stress was greatly reduced.

To add to the stress, though, we had loaded Office XP on her machine and I am used to using Office 2003. Not to worry. There were very few noticable changes and we got along famously. The old pro teaching skills are still there, the love of people alive yet, and the pleasure in helping very much in the forefront. Mairi and I had a great time as we worked through the materials, with me gradually leaving her more and more on her own to figure things out. (I learned a long time ago teaching computers that you have to be able to work out your own problems.)

This is yet another affirmation that getting older doesn't have to mean losing anything--well, sagging and blotchy skin aside! The important thing, though, is the mind. Mine is purring along nicely, thank you very much. Here are some of the things I do to keep it active:
1. Sudoku. There is almost always a book of puzzles by my chair in the TV room.
2. Computer Games. Mahjong is currently my fave, so much so that I am thinking of buying the Online version.
3. Reading. I have just finished Deepak Chopra's Grow Younger, Live Longer which has opened my mind to new ideas.
4. Exercise. As I work my way around the weight machine circuit, I am always trying to memorize my regimen.
5. Singing. I constantly exercise my mind in sight reading new choir songs and memorizing page turn problem parts--only a singer will get that!

Of course I do much more but you get the idea. Stepping out of my comfortable box is the hardest, though, and I am pleased to have done it yet again with teaching a stranger. I have also advertised a beading class to be held in the winter so hopefully that will be a go and I can do more teaching. Meanwhile my oven is calling me to clean it!

Ya Just Gotta Laugh

Last night hubby and I took a night out, having supper at East Side Mario's--not as good as the one in Woodstock!--and shopping in a mall in Cambridge. This one is interesting as it has an ice rink attached right opposite one row of shops, so that you can be wandering the shops and checking out the ladies' hockey game by glancing right and left. Cool concept. We were looking for the GNC as I needed some Omega3 Fish Oil. (Gotta keep up that healthy stuff!)

When we found the store I immediately started my search and hubby did his own thing. I find these stores a little intimidating because there are thousands of supplements and I don't want anyone to try to 'sell' me on them. My main health thing is fitness, exercise, eat lots of fruits and veggies, and TRY to stay away from the breads and desserts as much as possible. I don't want to be taking 50 pills a day.

Soon enough I found my mega jar, enough to last us for six months, and paid at the till. Hubby joined me there and got me to go over to the men's section. There he pointed out a jar labeled something like Increase Sensual Drive--for Men. This would not be too funny except for the warning on the back. Not to be taken if you are pregnant or breastfeeding. The last time I looked, men were neither pregnant nor likely to be breast feeding! Has this changed? Did we miss something?

We had a great laugh as we left the store.

The Paper Got It Right!

Linked you will see the newspaper article about the Heroes in the Home event last Wednesday. The link leaves out the picture so I have put in my scanned newspaper copy with apologies for the poor quality.
I have also written about Ross quite often over the past few months so check my archives if you want to learn about this great guy.

Heroes in the Home (2)

Today I give you part of the program from Heroes in the Home held on Wednesday of this week.
This is page 3 of the program listing the recipients of the various awards. Notice Donna and Tracy in the Community Caregiver Awards and Wayne's name mentioned in the letter excerpt at the bottom of the page. Finally go to Heroes in the Home for the story.

Heroes in the Home

On Wednesday I witnessed a wonderful thing. Well, two or three wonderful things, to be exact. I was at a Heroes in the Home awards ceremony, the first I’d ever attended, watching as wonderful people had their nomination letters read while they received a handshake and a gift from CCAC-Oxford. For the uninitiated, CCAC represents Community Care Access Centre, a blanket organization that oversees homecare and many other health oriented issues. My brother, Wayne, is Board Chair at this time, having spent many years working quietly to improve healthcare in the county.

I knew that my sister-in-law and her daughter were each going to receive a Community Caregiver Award and wanted to be there. Of course these awards attest to their care of my brother, Ross, through the months he lay dying at home. I have already described their love and devotion to every detail as humbling to watch, so that watching them be honored was my next step in the process of being there for Ross’ family. As I watched Tracy mount the platform and work to keep control of her emotions my wet eyes told of my thoughts of her care for her stepfather, how calm she was, how careful to move him just exactly right, how thoughtful she was in finding ways to make his days better and how she leaned over his hospital-type bed, both arms around his head, stroking his hair, brushing away imaginary and real things as though she could brush away the illness that was inside his head, robbing him of life. She became my hero forever.

Next Donna mounted the small dais, stood calmly, small and quiet, her enigmatic smile belying the huge heart beating inside her. She has lost two husbands now, yet still forges on. Throughout Ross’ illness, I was amazed at Donna’s ability to put her own problems aside, to reduce her own medication so that she would be awake if Ross needed her in the night. She arranged first of all to have a contraption attached to their bed so that he could still pull himself up and get out of bed. She rented a stair elevator so that he could still get upstairs to sit in their living room. When those were no longer viable, she turned their bedroom into a lovely haven for Ross. His TV was high in the corner so he could watch it whenever he wanted. She brought in pictures of his many exploits figure skating, flying, having family fun. Everywhere I looked there was something positive to remind us all of Ross, larger than life. For him, she held back her tears. She was exhausted but still she nursed him lovingly and with true dedication.

As she stood on the stage I could see this was a strain for her but she bravely stood, shook the hand of the presenter, collected her award, and with great dignity took her seat again. Such a small person carrying so large a load. Another hero.

Of course I have only mentioned two of the twenty-three heroes in the home who were honored. The stories of each were just as moving, just as full of love. From the caregiver of a happy little girl with two leg braces and no speech to the virtually blind old woman caring for her ill husband in their home, the stories were amazing. People really do rise up and take the burdens they are given.

Finally, after all the awards on the program, there was one final one. This was a special plaque presented to the person who had initiated these awards six years ago, my brother Wayne. He was surprised as his name was called. He moved to the stage and quietly smiled his pleasure as the presenter told of Wayne’s contributions in warm words, words that he had to cut short as he became too emotional to carry on. Wayne has made his mark with people.

After the event pictures were taken of the recipients and then of those of our family who were there to honour Donna and Tracy, and Wayne. Reporters took Donna and Tracy into a corner and interviewed them for about 15 minutes, during which I had a chance to personally thank the wonderful speaker, Eleanor L. Wood. Her message was about positive thinking and she delivered it with great humour and meaningful anecdotes. As I drove away my heart was saddened again at losing Ross but gladdened by all the love I had witnessed the past two hours. People really do rise up to shoulder the burdens thrust upon them and thus become Heroes in the Home.

Positive Feedback

Yesterday I had my three-month checkup at the gym, an appointment I had been approaching with anticipation and a little trepidation. I wanted to know what my numbers were. Had I improved or had I stayed the same.? I knew my weight hadn't changed but I also felt better.

I went early and Deb, my awesome and friendly trainer, was ready for the appointment. She brought up my profile on screen and I could watch it as she measured me and punched in the numbers. My predominant losses in inches were my waist, down 2.75 inches, and my buttocks and right calf, both down 1.25. I wasn't sure why my right calf was down but apparently I've been doing a super job of treating left and right the same so my numbers are evening out. Bottom line? Down 10.25 inches overall!

And I was so happy. I just loved getting that positive feedback from an independent source and I have been musing about my need for it ever since. Why is it we feel validated when someone else says "Well done!"? And then I realize it's a learned response. From the time we are born we are coddled and encouraged with positive (and sometimes negative!) feedback. No wonder we grow to rely on others' opinions. Hence the wifely question, "Do I look fat in this outfit?" (For the record, I've never asked that. Afraid of the answer?) and husbands sucking it up to show off their muscles. We all want positive feedback.

So when we go out in the world today, let's remember to be positive. Let's sink negativity in a tide of encouraging comments. Oh, and by the way, I'm now going 5 days to the gym, hoping in three months to get more of that positive feedback!

Bliss is Good

On Wednesday I took the time to drive to Mount Pleasant for my birthday spa indulgence. In the heat of July, hubby had given me a generous gift certificate which I finally had investigated a week earlier, making a facial appointment with a pleasant voice on the phone.

As I started my drive I realized that I had been day dreaming and taken the wrong road. No matter I would circle around, being the girl who never met a country road, lane or path she wouldn't explore. The problem was the roads. My route was closed-- a main highway--so I would have to travel unfamiliar back roads. I grabbed my map and realized no clear route was evident as all the little back roads are not on maps. Hmm. Well, I would just follow my nose, and after a lot of wondering, found a road to the east which I recognized. I made it to the Scape Spa just in the nick of time.

Now the last time I was in this wonderful building--a renovated mansion--it was a lovely exclusive restaurant so I was interested to see how it had metamorphosed. Mounting the front steps I noticed the interesting brick walk beautifully landscaped and dappled with leaves. I opened the door. Inside a delightful expanse of openness and pleasure greeted me. Music softly edged my subconscious as I moved to fill in the requisite form outlining all my 'things'. In a lovely black leather chair before a massive (fake?) fireplace, I finished the form and started flipping the pages of a magazine.

Immediately my technician came to get me and we headed up the stairs, past the manicure station with its six tables, all empty at the time, to a tiny room under the eaves. White towels, white stucco walls, soft music, soft lights, me in a tiny towel wraparound all snuggled under warmed blankets--all combined to create relaxation.

My technician told me her name but it is gone in the glow of pleasure I received during my back massage--roll over--shoulders and neck massage, face massage--did you notice all the massage? For many minutes I was soothed into a calm and quiet place where worries disappeared and pleasure predominated. She worked quietly and surely, applying creams and scrubs, putting them on, taking them off, putting on eye patches, taking them off. Finally she put on a facial mask which was gentle and soothing and left me to rest for a few minutes while the mask worked. I know I drifted off to sleep for a couple of moments which probably happens regularly since the experience is so quieting.

All too soon she returned, deftly took off the mask, put on more creams and then ever so gently spoke to me of the samples she was giving me and what the different things did. I hope the directions are on the samples as my sleeply brain barely took in what she was saying. She left me to get dressed--no hurry--and, when I left the room, was waiting with a refreshing wine glass of cold water. I drank my fill, headed down the wide staircase like Cinderella all done up for the ball, except I was wearing only the facial afterglow and no makeup! As I sat in my car, I realized I had to wake up enough to drive home and I did, albeit feeling like a pampered orchid. Oh, yes, bliss is good.

What a Weekend!

Painting the dining room, driving all over Simcoe, Woodstock, St. Mary's and all the wonderful little villages in between made our weekend exciting and fun. Oh and we had number one son and his wife for a great Thanksgiving dinner somewhere in there as well. We sure crowded a lot into three days.

And the weather! It made driving superb as we travelled the back roads lined with colour. From the red sumac to the unnamed riotous blue/purple flower everyone is talking about this year, and from the variegated yellows, oranges, and reds of the woods along our way, happiness was for the taking as we basked in these glories. There is really nothing like the colours of fall on a sunny day, with blue sky, treasured sunshine--because it has been so rare of late!--and the company of your one true love. This has been a full weekend of Thanksgiving.

Perhaps uppermost in my mind at the moment is the bike trip, yet again, down the Lynn Valley Rail Trail. Having nephew Mark along made the day even more fun as we watched his excitement on the ride and when we stopped above the rivers winding lazily below us and pointed out water plants luxuriating just below the surface. He was excited about the trip but really got into it when we reached Dover and found some lovely huge rocks lining the lake which held fossils of trilobites and other things there for the discovering. There is nothing like a child's sense of wonder.

When we made it back to the vehicles and the half hour trip home we were pretty tired but it was that 'good' tired. You know, the one where you have the sense of having done something awesome. Something special. Oh, what a weekend!

Down, Down She Went

Wednesday morning I got up, got dressed and went to the gym for an hour's workout. I came home, had my brekkie, went for a hair appointment, and came back by 9 o'clock to start my washing and my day. I piled our huge hamper to the top and then about 18" on top of that. It was almost as tall as I am.

Going down the stairs I took it slowly as I had way too much to carry easily. I rested on the bottom step for a second and then took the last step. Only it wasn't the last step. I heard my voice yell as my hip hit the arm of the bench below but still I didn't let go of that basket. Then I lurched to the right, completely out of control and lost the handles as I went down. When the mass of clothes settled, there I was lying flat out on the floor in front of our front door, winded, bumped and a little scared. Oops! I guess I didn't count the steps right.

I lie there for a minute or so, then check myself over. No broken bones. I think I'm alright. Don't know if I can get up or not. No choice as I'm alone in the house. I sit and grab the stair railing to slowly pull myself up--my brain is still working, at least.

Long story short, I was okay. I gathered up the clothes and threw a couple of piles down the basement stairs before I carried the rest in the hamper. The thing that really makes me angry with myself is that in trying to save a trip down two flights to the basement and thus save time and energy I have totally messed up my energy output for three days as of now and still counting. The anti-inflammatories that I took eased the swelling and I am pretty close to normal until I try to walk anywhere. Then I move like my arthritic friend, lurching along, always thinking of the shortest route to get anywhere. And tired! I need a shot of energy.

Have I learned my lesson? Yes, definitely. Until the next time. Meanwhile I am still hoping to do the Port Dover bike trip on Thanksgiving Monday. Wish me luck!

My New Jewelry Makes Me Smile

Yesterday I had a wonderful day with my best beading buddy, Donna. Together we searched out bargains at Mary Maxim and 4 Sirius Beaders in Paris, and then headed to Brantford for lunch at a cafe we had visited before, part of the Flim Flam Gift Gallery. We arrived, breathless and hungry, only to learn that the restaurant had been turned into a craft area. Our initial disappointment soon turned to glee as we discovered a very good selection of beading things, including Swarovski crystal heart-shaped pendants. Lunch had to wait awhile.

My delight in the day was intensified every time I looked at my wrist and caught a glimpse of my latest bracelet creation. (Bracelets are for the wearer because you don't see your necklace and earrings unless you're looking in a mirror!) It is based on a deep pink/bronze Czech fire-polished bead which sparkles in the light, mixed with bronze spacers, pink and gold beads with ivory pearls. I absolutely loved making it and revel in wearing it. Not for sale, this one!

After lunch we hit the mall for a half hour and found--on sale!--the short-sleeved tops I was wanting, then headed for Woodstock. After a couple of stops--beads, of course--we headed for home. We couldn't believe it was 4:00 when we arrived, the day had gone so quickly.

I Feel So Happy

Today I decided to put one of my songs up because I feel like singing! Oh, it's not the rainy weather or the litany of jobs I have to do, but rather the promise and excitement of moving on to our next chapter. If you feel like singing, too, try out my tune but remember the copyright!

The Sign Goes Up!

We've made the decision, we're ready to go, our sign is posted and we're on the move. Yep, we've decided to sell our dream home. We've been here 30 years and have spent many hours and more dollars working on this pride of ours, but we're ready to put the 'ad' on to 'venture' and start the next chapter. Something smaller beckons.

Last night when we came home from a three-hour drive of searching out houses, talking of plans, dreaming up possibilities, the words "For Sale" jumped into our headlights as we made the turn into our drive. Guess it's for real now! There was a curious lump which niggled in my belly as we spent the hour with our agent filling out forms, signing away our lives, and deciding strategy. Yes, we want to go. Yes, we are ready. But, no, we don't want to go through the listing process, the sign-on-the-lawn scenario, or yet another "Open House." (Why is it up to us to provide weekend entertainment for the lookers?)

But we have to do it. We have to do all we can to sell this house so we can start our next chapter. Hopefully this interlude will be no more than a post-it! note--not a chapter--and the sign will say Sold! in no time. Meanwhile you need to know I'm working on the grass problem--a little seed will go a long way, I hope.

Niagara Falls in Winter

Of course, everyone knows about the stunning majesty of the Horseshoe Falls seen from Niagara Falls Ontario, but do you know how they rule winter in that fair city? Last February, hubby and I took a weekend vacation to Niagara mostly to take in a Paul Anka concert, but we found much much more. From our Marriott hotel room overlooking the Falls, we watched this spectacular sunset over the Niagara River with the Falls in the foreground. We pulled chairs over to the window, sat and had a sip or two as we gloried in the fireball outside.

We took the shuttle to the Casino--not very far away--because of the bitter cold. With all that moisture the cold just seemed to spike through our coats, so we were happy to shuttle. A spectacular Paul Anka concert entertained us at the Fallsview Casino, with Anka singing his heart out in traditional manner, with lots of various instruments led by a talented band leader. Interspersed were video presentations so artfully integrated as to create a seamless multi-media event. Anka's family were front and centre in these but I noticed how well he preserved their privacy, yet broadcast his pride in and love for them all. A magical night.

The next morning we had a scrumptious breakfast--part of the package deal--and then donned our heavy coats to see the Falls. If you look closely you can see the ice on all the railings, bushes, and trees. In the bright sunshine this sparkled and glistened putting us in a happy place. Well, except for the bitter cold! Hubby had left his hat behind in the room, not such a good decision.













You can see from my attire just how cold it was but the walk was oh so worthwhile doing. I breathed in the chilly invigorating air and felt so blessed to be part of this majesty.














If you look closely here you will see the ice on everything. And the spray is magnificent, isn't it?









This was a refreshing and interesting weekend with lots of food for the soul--no crowds and the shopping was bargain after bargain. We loved it!

Our Little Nest

Here is the front entrance to our house. Looks lovely, doesn't it? The foreground shows our Pontiac Grand Prix and our red maple tree. The interlocking curved paving stone path leads you up the steps to the much lighter porch. The burnt orange door tells you we are bold yet warm-hearted, and not afraid to venture out into the wild and crazy. The door itself, with its wee window at the top says we are somewhat private and maybe even a little cautious. The solid brick represents our relationship and is softened ever so slightly by the weeping caragana and other greenery out front. So, really, our house is a reflection of us. Not surprising after thirty years of living in it.

Whose Crap Is It Anyhow?

This morning I was wanting to blog but didn't have a topic. Then I turned on the TV in the kitchen. Apparently Toronto is once again looking for somewhere to dump its garbage, as the Michigan solution is ending soon. Instead Toronto trash will be trucking down the road to St. Thomas.

Now this whole garbage thing is a load of crap, pardon the pun. Why don't governments at all levels get serious about solving our garbage problem? Why is it so tough to insist people go green? And I don't just mean all the households. I mean the businesses who use far more of our resources, who have to be forced to reduce, reuse and recycle. Human nature being what it is, we all have to have a little incentive to do what's right.

Look at our health. We know that eating that piece of pie or drinking that soda--diet or regular--is just not good for us, but we do it for the immediate thrill and because we can. If the food police were sifting through our garbage and or recycle to make sure we weren't eating bad stuff, we might change. (Okay, that's a little extreme!) And smoking has been talked about to death--another pun?--yet still I see those packages on the shelf in the stores and I hear of break-ins where only 'smokes' are stolen. The addition of scary health messages probably has made some difference but still we do what we want, what we talk ourselves into. When the outcome affects the public good so directly, shouldn't we be required to conform to a good garbage system?

When you get right down to basics you realize we need to take more personal responsibility for our own garbage. Here is a short list of places to start:
1. Don't accept bags for everything in the stores. (Bread already comes in a bag; why do I need another one?)
2. Find someone who can use those bags over again, like the local food bank.
3. Anything which can be reused should not be put in the garbage. (All of our old clothes go to the Diabetes people or to the rag bin for cleaning rags.)
4. Garage sales are really for recycling things you don't need. Whatever you can make in dollars is a bonus.
5. Don't buy in to cleaning systems which need a constant supply of throw-away pads, such as the current Swiffer and others.
6. Keep your thoughts on the landfill and do everything you can to keep your garbage output minimal.

And now I think it is time for me to go set up the composter I bought six months ago and to really use it!

Gibraltar

This is what you might look like after 40 years married. No, really, I took this picture of one of the small apes which roam freely on Gibraltar. Our trip there was part of our 40th year anniversary celebrations and we loved it.

These apes are very tame, running through the slow-moving vehicles, defecating freely wherever and whenever they like, and watching the visitors to "The Rock" as though wondering what all the fuss is about. In the cloudy haze you can make out the coast of Africa, an indistinct question mark because we didn't go there. Another time, maybe.

Marbella the Beautiful

This is another picture of the beautiful resort where we stayed in Spain, complete with palm trees framing and Mediterranean beckoning. You can really see the splendid deep blue-green of the sea here. I like the contrast with the colours in the playground pieces.

Where did the weekend go?

Here it is, Monday morning, and I am wondering how to get back on track after a weekend of driving. The weather was warm, but not too warm, with only a smidge of rain somewhere along the New York thruway for only a couple of minutes, so that the 500+ mile trip was pretty enjoyable.

We arrived at a little place called Avon CT, found the Inn where the surprise festivities were to be held and parked in the back of the parking lot. We had an hour and a quarter before the event was to begin. What to do? Find the mall about 15 minutes away? Too far and too much driving. Hubby and I took out our books and settled down to read. A light breeze wafted in the windows as I repaired my makeup in the mirror, got out my clothes to change into, sorted some of the travel mess in the back seat, and then settled to read for awhile. Time passed quickly. The party awaited.

We hugged our nephews and family, saw old friends of the bride and groom, and were introduced to new ones. Even those we had never met we felt we knew since Nan has mentioned them so much over the years. The word came that the celebrants were in the building. We moved from the hallway to the tables in the supper room and waited patiently for Nan and Gary to arrive. Suddenly there they were coming up the stairs, talking away to their son and daughter-in-law. My eyes were on Nan as she spied us all sitting in the room. Her eyes teared up as her mouth opened wide with surprise. She was amazed.

The evening progressed with few speeches but lots of laughter and wonderful food. People chatted happily from table to table--there were only three--and the tinkling of glasses was heard a few times. The bride and groom of 40 years ago smooched a couple of times but, private people that they are, ignored the tinkling from then on. Two of the grandchildren were there, Max dressed in cute vest with argyle pattern and grey flannel pants, and Gabby in a peach dress, hair pulled into a pony tail with curly wisps floating around her laughing face. Both have lovely blue eyes and fair skin and were well behaved the whole night.

Finally when people left the night was still young, and we headed for the bar. I most enjoyed sitting there with Nan and Gary and their two handsome sons, and watching them smile and laugh their way through this rare time for all of them to be together. Son #1 lives in Arizona, son # 2 in Boston, so visits are precious. All too soon we heeded our tired body messages and headed for our pillows, knowing that the long drive was to be repeated in the morning. We would talk over the event for hours, savoring it like bits of fine chocolate after the swallowing is over. A good weekend.

Munching at the Mandarin

Last night hubby and I were invited to join Donna and Tracy for supper at 6, at the Mandarin Restaurant in London. Yup, another Chinese restaurant. Sure, sounded great but we've been to quite a few so were not jumping up and down. We anticipated it would be very good and the company would be great fun. We under-anticipated.

Arriving a little early, we were glad Donna had made a reservation. Groups of people milled around the maitre d' who was trying his best broken English to get everyone seated quickly. The hostess was beautiful, young and so polite she engaged us easily when she asked if we had been there before. No, I answered, and she paused while walking us to our table, to point out the 20-foot salad table, the sushi table, the Chinese table, the two dessert tables, and the hot bar with roast beef, a whole pig and much more. She seemed so proud of the place and the experience and wanted to share it with us.

Our waitress quickly brought drinks and we chatted while waiting for our hosts, who arrived a little late and breathless. They had been caught in one of the many heavy rainstorms on the 401. No matter. On to better things. Their faces glowed as they told us about their favorites on the buffet--fried shrimp torpedos, fresh and beautiful sushi, lovely tidbits from every table. Enough talking, let's eat! And we did.

Arriving back at the table I looked to see what everyone had. Donna had a variety of delctable sushi items, Tracy many different things, hubby his favorite fruits, shrimp, and salads, and I many shrimp, thin carrots, plump snow peas and a wonderful seedy bread. All of it looked great. Usually at a Chinese buffet there are things I take but once tried don't finish. Not so here. I loved everything I put into my mouth. The veggies I had taken really tasted like carrots and peas ever so lightly flavored. The shrimp were firm and juicy and the sauce hot but not too hot. The bread was heavenly--I could have eaten a loaf but I didn't. All too quickly I had gulped that whole plate.

I hit the Chinese bar for my second course and was not disappointed. The lemon chicken was more chicken than breading and sauce and every other thing I tried was excellent. It was heavenly. We were all having the same problem, though, as we slowed down our eating and finished plate number two--we were full and so much wonderful food was still waiting. We talked for 15 minutes or so, hoping our stomachs would empty and we'd have room to stuff in more of the delicacies that awaited us.

Again the waiter filled our water glasses, the waitress removed our plates, leaving behind our cutlery, and without a word we all stood to go once more into the fray. Desserts of all kinds awaited. Usually they are not too tempting in other Chinese places. Here chocolate covered strawberries lay beside luscious lemon pie, beautiful banana bread beckoned as coconut macaroons sat crisp and sweet in an artful arrangement, and fruit, fresh and juicy enticed the eye. Oh, and there was so much more. I filled--yes, you heard right--a small plate with about five different things and headed back to enjoy. I was so full but I had a duty. I must clear my plate. Mom had always taught me that and so I did. Well, almost. I left part of one piece of cake because I just couldn't put another bite into my body.

I looked around our table and saw that the others were having the same problem, except for hubby who never met a dessert he couldn't conquer! Coffee and water helped settle the stuffed feeling. Lots of good chatter, now that we had gorged, and it was time to leave. An hour and a half later, we had finished the feast and were already wondering when we would come back. Not until I've done about twenty miles on the treadmill at the gym, I think. But, oh, the food was great, the service excellent, the deportment and demeanor of the staff friendly and happy. They knew they were offering us a great thing and took pleasure in watching us enjoy.

If you decide to go--they are located in many cities--starve yourself for a day ahead and prepare to become a gourmand for an hour or two. You won't regret it.

Car Trips

Hubby and I love to travel by car. I suppose it's a control thing as much as anything. We can stop when we like, go when we're rarin' or take the road "less traveled by" when it beckons. When flying, not so much. And with the latest restrictions and anti-terror checks, flying has become more annoying, making going our own way much simpler.

This weekend we're heading out for a two-day trip, eight hours each way, to Connecticut and a surprise 40th party. (Hope they're not reading my blog!) The trip will be rushed as we only have two days, meaning we'll have to keep going and not stop too much. What will we do to keep busy? Here are some of the things we've done in the past:

1. Make up a list of exercises to do while driving/riding in the car, to keep that drowsy feeling from attacking. (We even had the idea to do a series of tapes on fun things to do in the car to while away the time!)
2. Make our famous nuts and bolts recipe full of good things, sure to keep our taste buds busy.
3. When traveling with kids, trade off where you sit, putting Dad in the back with one kid while Mom drives, and rotating every hour or so.
4. Buy lots of books at every stop for the kids to read. Today car tv and electronic games work, too. Alternate them.
5. Play the Quiet Game, where you all stay quiet and the one who talks first is the loser, when you get tired of hearing kiddy noise from the back seat. Usually a parent loses because we forget about the game. This is great, from the kids' point of view.
6. Bring a box from the Trivial Pursuit game and ask each other questions, with or without a win/lose strategy.
7. Using the roadmap--have a Rand-McNally or similar book of Canada and the US--one person names a state or province and the other names its capital.
8. Name songs on a theme. eg. songs with 'moon' in the title, like Moon River.
9. Wager how many trucks (or red cars or pickups) will be in the next 20 vehicles that come down the road at you--there will be LOTS of trucks!
10. Stop at the rest stations and take a brisk walk from one end to the other.
Oh! and finally,
11. When the car stops everybody pees, whether they want to or not! (This saves multiple stops.)

So we look forward to being together in the car. It's the time we do our best talking about everything. We'll take our Koolatron with some drinks and goodies, things that we can legally transport across the border, and enjoy the scenes that fly by. One will nap while the other drives, we'll settle the world crises, and by Monday we'll be back here. Away we go!

Ordering Pretties

Like Gollum in The Hobbit and Tolkien's subsequent books, I am mesmerized by pretty things, and, yes, they do have some power over me. Not enough that I sacrifice my life to them but enough that I take great pleasure in creating them. I think of the embroidery I've done, the knitting, the painting, the pottery, the list goes on and my insides warm. Yesterday I spent almost three hours placing my bead order from the Fire Mountain catalogue.

My buddy, Donna, and I usually do it together but she is away so I tackled the job. As you can see from the image here, this is a huge book of goodies and her page numbers were from the slightly newer version, while mine were from this one. Oh, and we had some things to order from the online sale items. All of this made for some confusion and cries for help from the online realtime help offered by Fire Mountain.

I sat down just after 1 p.m. and tackled the Excel list we had worked on together last Friday, the addendum Donna had sent Saturday, and--can you believe it?--the second addendum from Sunday morning. I also had to finalize pearls that I wanted as well as other beads and findings. By the time I had finished the total was quite high but I don't intend to order for at least six months so I'm not too disturbed. Paying shipping is not much fun. There's nothing 'pretty' about it. I'd rather order a lot at a time and put the money into beads and findings.

Finally, just before 4 p.m., I was done. My back ached, my shoulders sagged and my eyes were bleary from too much screen viewing. I stood up to think what to do next. Finishing the washing and making up the bed with the clean sheets were actually welcome changes from sitting in front of the computer for three hours.

This morning I checked my email, logged on to the Fire Mountain site and checked the progress of my package. It has been shipped and will arrive Thursday. Computers can be wonderful, can't they? So now the work is over and I can just anticipate opening my package of pretties.

Open Doors

This past weekend hubby and I settled into our car seats at 9:30 Saturday morning to start a day of visiting public buildings around the county of Oxford. We knew that this could be a bust but decided to test out the theory that visiting all these places could be interesting. Through the morning misty rain we drove to Tillsonburg and Annandale House as our first stop.

We were the early birds and the worms (printed programs) weren't even ready yet. The helpers filed by us to their stations as we got our instructions. Off to the right we went to the first guide. Haltingly, she told us interesting stories about the butler's pantry and the extent of the encroachment of the addition on the original house. A sweet lady. We moved on to the rest of the house. The dining room was fabulous, not big but beautifully restored with warm muted colours and lovely dark period furniture. The ceiling was enchanting with plaster flowers all painted in relief. Through the rest of the house we heard more interesting details, found out that the mortgage had been paid off over the previous thirty years, the committee having saved the house from falling down through neglect. We loved the whole hour we spent there chatting and learning and looking at pictures of Annandale House in its heyday.

From there we went to Tillsonburg Airport and hubby had an up-close-and-personal inspection of a Harvard aircraft, a two-seater used in WWII. We checked out the price for a half-hour ride--$200 a person--too high in the sky for our pocketbooks, but enjoyed seeing the planes take off and land while we chatted with friends and with one of the members of the Canadian Harvard Association. He was so enthused with the plane that we couldn't help enjoying his patter.

Time for lunch. In Ingersoll we decided to try Crabby Joe's. Not good. Dirty, in fact. Now I know why they say you should always go to the washroom before you order! Loud music pounded our ear drums as we tried to chat. When the food came the fries tasted great but the sandwich was not so good. I made do with the fries. We couldn't leave soon enough for me but the waitress was slow coming back. I went to the car while hubby waited at the bar to pay. When he got to the car finally, he told me he had leaned on the bar and got sticky stuff on his arms. Lucky we carry hand cleaner in the glove box.

As we headed out of Ingersoll the rain came down in torrents, not a problem in the car. We took the Governor's Road east to the cement plant half way to Woodstock. It was on the tour and I had a particular interest, having been 10 years old when my father sold our farm to the Canada Cement Company. (Now it is called LaFarge.) When we arrived the rain had stopped and we headed over to the tents erected for the 50 year celebration. There we saw family and friends who were reminiscing as well, and munched on the wonderful cake for free. We wanted to take the bus tour around the site so waited in the rain to get on the bus. We were soaked! Never mind, the tour was worth it, especially to me as I well remember the farms and farm people who used to be on this land 50 years ago. The highlight was the quarry 300 feet below the surface, a huge expanse with layers of limestone looking mighty in the gloom of the dark day. At the bottom was a pretty green lake, green because of the calcium content, we were told. As the bus slowly wound its way back out of the pit, I was thinking of the forbidden trips my brothers and I would take to the back of our farm which had been taken over by the cement company. Huge lakes of muddy water were bordered by brownish yellow clay and, in some places, quicksand, which we were careful to avoid. I well remember the kildeers running about on this muddy expanse. The tour ended and, back in the car, we headed for Woodstock.

I was thrilled to see inside the Masonic Temple building fronting on Dundas Street. You know how it is--I had passed that building countless times over my lifetime and never known what a treasure it was inside. I particularly liked the newly-added cupola on the third floor and the wood-lined room on the first floor which may have been a bar in the old Buckingham Hotel, which predates even my memory!

On to the Court House where we enjoyed seeing inside such a magnificent building. Once again, this was special to me as I knew my dad's picture as a former Warden of Oxford County was on the wall of the County chamber. As we approached this room from the hall I noticed the pictures hanging and then, the first one I looked at was Dad. How cool is that! It was like I was led to that picture. Kismet? Anyhow I got to sit in the Warden's chair and I took a silent moment to sit in my dad's spot and feel what he must have felt. Very wonderful. When we left the room a lady in the hall told me she, too, was from Embro and had known my dad.

We made a quick trip to the current Woodstock City Hall, saw the mayor's office, the council chambers, and climbed to the clock tower high above the street. I remembered this building as being the post office when I went to school here but it had become the City Hall in 1968 when a new post office was built. The former city hall has been a museum since that time.

One more stop on the tour--it was now 4:00 and things were closing--and we would go home. The county Arboretum had been started by a group of folk interested in preserving species of trees and is named for one of those people--Les Dickson, a former warden of the county from my parents' era. I had known him, too. We parked in the grassy lot at the W.Leslie Dickson Arboretum--the only car there. That was okay with us as we love to escape the crowds. We put on our running shoes and headed off on an excursion across the gently sloping, grassy carpet, reading the tree signs along the way. We noticed that some of the signs were damaged and wondered about the care of this wonderful place. Does someone look after it? Is planting still being done? Trees were often planted in large groups of four of the same variety and, sometimes, one or two of the four were partly or completely dead, a pity we thought. Nevertheless, strolling alone through this lovely green arbor made us appreciate Les Dickson and the others who thought ahead to provide these tall beauties for us to enjoy.

We got back in the car, I switched to sandals, and we headed towards home. What a wonderful day we had had, and it was all free and so close to home. Once again, it was a great place to stand--Ontari-ar-i-ar-i-o!

The New Day Awaits

As I gaze out my window this morning I can see...well, not much. In the foreground the orange branch of the soft maple my dad planted thirty years ago is flanked by leaves still green. Beyond I can see only white nothingness, with the two shadowy wraith-trees across the road looking eerie in the gloom. To the left a limp flag tries to move in the still milkiness. Everything is waiting for the sun.

And as it waits I wonder. Should I put the fertilizer on the back yard this morning or is it going to rain? Look at the forecast, you say. Yeah, right. It's always bang on. I would like to get this job done and get the spreader back to the store. What to do? I know! I'll do some house cleaning of my kitchen cupboards! Doesn't that sound exciting? At the very least I'll have made a decision and be doing something useful.

So much of our lives we agonize over making a decision. For me making the decision is not the problem but making the right one is. Are you like that? Always wanting to do the right thing? I know the successful business people say to just make the decision and then go with it. You'll make mistakes but it's better to move on decisively than to continually be vacillating. I know I always feel better once I've decided and can attack the new idea with vigour.

So. The waiting and wondering is over. The fog has lifted and I'm going to start my day!