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?