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!

Holiday Weekend

The words conjure up fun, fun and more fun. A weekend is always great and a holiday weekend of three whole days suggests something wonderful. Now that I've got you wondering, I'll tell you about our saga so far this Labour Day weekend.

Friday night we decided that if we were going to have rain for much of the weekend we'd do some inside stuff. What would be a useful and satisfying project? We hit Home Depot for some floor tiles, a bathroom sealer ring and some stick down the tiles stuff in preparation for solving the leak in the bathroom. We had scoped it out and figured the sealer ring was needing replacing. No problem. We could do that and we'd replace the flooring at the same time.

Bright and early Saturday morning, I reached behind the toilet to turn off the water tap. As soon as I began turning, water spurted out between the threads. I got it off but began to think. Maybe this was the leak and not the ring? We would have to turn the main water off. Where the *&^%## was that? Hubby headed for the basement and searched around. (We are not really that handy, you see.) After a few minutes he called me down and we reasoned out that there were two turny things on a significant pipe coming from the floor so they were probably the shutoff taps. Which one to turn? Better call Jim. He came over and verified our thinking.

With the house water off, the 'boys' went up to the bathroom to tackle the project. Relegated from second-in-command to not really needed, I sat at my computer and checked e-mail. In no time the 'boys' were downstairs chatting and not in the bathroom at all. I went down to check and they were sitting in our most formal living room having a lovely visit! Meanwhile the water was off, the project halted. I sized up the situation and hesitantly wondered out loud what they were doing. Apparently they couldn't see how to proceed so hubby would go to the hardware store. We sat for a few more minutes. Anxious to get things going, I couldn't sit. I went to the kitchen to tidy up, turned on the tap and got.......nothing! "The water is off in the whole house, you know." I raised my voice. Luckily the men-folk jumped up and started to move.

Long story short, with more info we decided we weren't able to tackle this job, would need a plumber, and would need a different project to tackle for the weekend. Why not paint hubby's office? It was needing a spruce-up and this rainy day we needed a purpose. Off to Home Depot again to take back the toilet stuff from yesterday and get paint for the office. This project worked well and by 8:30 Saturday night the painting was done and we were relaxing watching our anniversary video on tv.

By Sunday the rain had dissipated, the room was reassembled, and we went out for brunch at a fantastic spot in Stratford--Madelyn's. We took company along and had a great time, enjoying the day as the weather got more and more clear. Blue skies were emerging after the rains of tropical storm Ernesto. By Sunday night we felt very accomplished what with our refurbished room and 22 quarts of peaches put in the freezer for the winter.

And we still have today! What are we doing, you ask? We're taking our bikes to Simcoe and riding the Lynn Valley trail to Port Dover. Hubby hasn't done it yet and I long to do it again. Should be wonderful. See you in Dover!