Wednesday Whispers From the Past

 

I offer you this.

I am curious about the man behind the camera. He's far from being a man of means.. He is the husband of the woman shown and the father of the child.  They live in a small flat above a chemist's on the main street of a small town. He's the town clerk.

He feels it important to capture the moments in his family's life so (I imagine) he bought the camera at a discount from the chemist shop downstairs, where he gets his photos developed. It's a Kodak Brownie.

The threesome have cycled a good distance today for he has had a special cast-iron seat installed on the crossbar of his bike to accommodate the child.

Their picnic is in the basket of his wife's bicycle. She doesn't want the child sitting on the bare cast iron seat so she uses the child's baby blanket on top of it to make sure she's comfortable. And they then sit on this for the picnic.

They're all a little tousled after the cycling. The mother has rigorously curled her own hair and that of the child the night before. And as the father readies the lens on the Brownie, she takes out a comb and fixes her own hair but devotes more time to the child who squirms as she reties the bow in her hair. 

The father jokes with the child to make her laugh and as she does, the mother smiles, holding her daughter's hand. 

He snaps the perfect picture, beautifully framed.

Monday Melange

 Life seems to have returned to normal here out on The Edge. Stores, restaurants and pubs along with theatres are open. Downtown is brisk with shoppers and walkers, new restaurants have opened along with beer gardens and art galleries.

Still.

A ship is anchored in the harbour with 11 cases of Covid aboard (at last count) and one case was boated off to hospital. The ship is in quarantine.

Any new cases on the island have been identified and isolated so there is no community transmission.

Still.

I realize we are all leaning on the trust of our fellow humans.

Grandgirl and partner arrived here safely and were interrogated thoroughly at the Newfoundland border. Which is a relief. They are now in quarantine. I saw them at a distance yesterday when I was dropping off some supplies. The desire to hug was so strong it brought tears to my eyes. But we didn't. I have now more relatives on this island than I ever dreamed possible.

I took this picture on Signal Hill the other evening. A slight fog. You can barely make out the ships in the harbour.

This gave me pause:

And this made me laugh so hard.

Peace out.

Words for Wednesday

Words for Wednesday will be here for the Month of April. All the way from Newfoundland, Canada, which has its own time zone - 30 minutes ahead of the rest of Canada. Thanks as always to Elephant's Child for keeping this feast going. 

This meme was started by Delores a long time ago.  Computer issues led her to bow out for a while.  The meme was too much fun to let go, and now Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a movable feast. 

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.  Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image.   What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...  We can use some or all of the prompts, and mixing and matching is encouraged.

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  I would really like it if as many people as possible joined into this fun meme, which includes cheering on the other participants.  If you are posting on your own blog - let me know so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud.

Here are the words for this week, In two batches with an image in the middle, use some or all of the prompts. Thank you so much for the opportunity to host W4W - I have enjoyed it immensely! I had fun with this week's prompts. The painting is "Back from Market" by Chardin. The prompts are from the poem that Eavan Boland wrote about it.

Good luck!

Congregate

Impulse

Market

Peasant

 Wine

Surging

Light

Hazard

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's mine, I used all of the prompts:

Claustrophobia was what she had to live with since she was twelve. It rendered her a recluse - for being in a confined space was impossible. Like now. Yeah, she had all the therapy, thank you very much. But even Dr. Herzel's large office was torture. Being told to stay with her feelings, let them wash over her, blah and blah cubed. Her impulse to run away and out onto the street always won.

Here in the small church where The Disciples congregated every Sunday at 9, was torture too, hemmed between her parents like a child. She was twenty one for God's sake. Home for the weekend from college.

The sounds of the Sunday Farmer's Market surged through the open church windows on the golden light from the morning sun. It was calling her name and this time she obeyed. The minister was pounding the pulpit in rhythm to her heart as she broke free, pulling her arm from her father's restraint, not caring about the hazard to his failing heart that he guilted her with every time she came home, "You'll be the death of me, child," clutching his chest over her latest innocent exploit, like drinking a glass of wine.

She flew outside the church door, mingling with the heady mix of peasants and the well-to-dos who stayed at a manageable distance from her, as they crowded the stalls of vegetables, fruits and meats.

She breathed in the intoxicating smell of freedom as she moved around.

It was high time indeed to deal with the undeserved punishment of her father locking her for five hours in the cellar's dark cold room for innocently kissing Albert in the school playground all those years ago.

The Welcome Mat

 I live in an apartment building that is only two storeys but extends expansively across a few acres of land, with a great view of lakes and hills and a slice of ocean.

Many of the tenants, including me, enhance our entrance ways with art work, floral arrangements and plants. and statuary. seasonal wreathes and vases. Some of the art work extends into the walls of halls, which look like art galleries. All very inspiring and quite beautiful and remarked on frequently by guests.

A new tenant, who replaced our dear belated Betty who was moved off into a care home due to dementia, has made this stark statement outside her door. I just had to take a photo. There is no other ornamentation outside her doorway.

It gets me to thinking about the insides of this new tenant - I haven't met her and really, I think we would have nothing in common. Perhaps a compulsive housekeeper? I'm one of those who's never had shoe-rules of any kind. You can throw your shodded feet around my floors any time you like. I would never make such demands on a welcome guest who would visit me for my company and not for my shoddy house-keeping. 

What do you think of such a "welcome" mat? And the person behind it?

Good Exhaustion/Bad Exhaustion

 Why did it take me all my life to sort this one out?

If I'm performing creative/interesting/inspiring work I can be tired but happy.

If I'm doing basic maintenance of self and surroundings, I can be tired but cranky and irritable.

It all takes the same amount of energy (the spoons) but the end result is far, far different.

Dishes can knock me out, standing, even meditating (thanks Kate), slopping around in the water, does me in. A cheery heart while doing mundane tasks does not come easy to me. Gratitude for being able to stand at all evaporates.

What I resent most about bad exhaustion is that is zaps me from any other activities. I'm not a methodical person by nature and I've tried everything - a reward of, say, a phone call, after the dishes are done doesn't work for me. I am too tired.

Whereas working on crafting (currently that sofa blanker is now heading into the stratosphere of 2 feet, thank you very much after so many fails), can see me making the call and knitting at the same time in complete bliss.

Finding a balance is difficult for me at the best of times. I do plot out my days, I do have an agenda with all the necessary tasks listed, nothing ambitious or even moderately over extending myself, but the overwhelm is present just about all the time. Call it Irish Catholic Guilt, engrained since birth. Today I feel up for the weekly family Zoom.

I attended an online retreat this morning, I wrote two cards to friends, made my lunch, took my gallon of pills, started on the Words for Wednesday post, read a couple of chapters of my latest book, played 14 games of Lexulous (stretching the old brain, a daily event for like, 15 years now).  Meditated some. Worked on a memoir and a poem for a competition.

And yes I got dressed, braided my stupid long, long hair, and am now writing this post. I will march shuffle the 10 miles of halls to drop the cards in the mailbox in the main lobby later on tonight and see if I can stick my name on the weekly Covid laundry schedule and then fingers crossed, I am actually not too exhausted to fulfil that obligation.

So on it goes, a peak into my day.

And the dishes sigh on in the sink. But I am good exhausted.

Words For Wednesday

 

Words for Wednesday will be here for the Month of April. All the way from Newfoundland, Canada, which has its own time zone - 30 minutes ahead of the rest of Canada. Thanks as always to Elephant's Child for keeping this feast going. 

This meme was started by Delores a long time ago.  Computer issues led her to bow out for a while.  The meme was too much fun to let go, and now Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a movable feast. 

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.  Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image.   What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...  We can use some or all of the prompts, and mixing and matching is encouraged.

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  I would really like it if as many people as possible joined into this fun meme, which includes cheering on the other participants.  If you are posting on your own blog - let me know so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud.

Here are the words for this week, In two batches with an image in the middle, use some or all of the prompts.

Good luck!

From "A Moveable Feast" by Ernest Hemingway. Photo from front cover of book. (an annual read for me)

Colourless*

Slaughter*

Moustache*

Jockey*

Eliminate*

Whiskey*

Thermometer*

Wickedness*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's mine, using all the prompts and the picture.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roseanne pulled the curtain aside and looked down at the colourless shell-shocked road four floors below. The war seemed like yesterday, she still couldn't get used to the silence. Normal life had not returned even though the armistice was a few months ago now.

She sighed and glanced back at the bed where Antoine was lightly snoring, his grown-up moustache still strange on his face. He had changed in uncountable ways. He had witnessed and participated in acts she could barely comprehend, slaughter and wickedness which would never be eliminated from his fun loving spirit, now gone forever.

Her deep love for him was now jockeying with feelings of pity and revulsion for what he had seen and done. The unknowable within him.

Last night at the café where they had met with his comrades in arms the whiskey had run freely and the ribaldry and war stories had pushed the atmospheric thermometer to an unsustainable pitch.

She had wanted to walk out the door. Antoine, her gentle artistic fiancé, had vanished forever.

But a few old strands were still not unravelled, holding her there with thin threads of hope.

Update

Sometimes we feel stress in different ways, don't we? Not quite aware we are in stress but the evidence of our own compromised presence in our lives becomes evident.

Example:

I nearly went mad from this knitting pattern I had designed. The first time I ripped it out, I had a chuckle. I had forgotten to take into account increases for the Aran part so I wound up with the beginnings of a bedspread rather than a throw (sofa blanket or afghan).  So rip down and start again. Great. I'm on top of things now. 6"inches in, the thing is decreasing in size. With no known cause. 

Closer examination shows no dropped stitches. I was close to weeping. I've been knitting non-stop just about since I was seven so I thought: give up now, as I tossed it in a basket, dementia has set it. Give up, stop knitting. And there it sat. 

I finally picked it up during the week and ripped it all down again and restarted, counting the stitches on every row and the thing was haunted, it was shrinking yet again. I read my pattern aloud a few times and realized I had consistently forgotten a vital increase to compensate for a double decrease in the pattern. Small beans I know to a non=knitter, but I have been knitting for seventy years. Yeah, seventy years and know my knits, cables, purls and lace.

In chatting with friends and family and sharing this, others offered stories of their own realities. Such as awkward stuttering when engaging in conversations, losing really, really obvious nouns when on the telephone, misplacing every day things and sleeping a lot - or the opposite side of that coin, waking a lot. And inappropriate hysterical laughter. I'm sure there are many more.

This pandemic has taken its toll in all sorts of ways, some of which we are not even aware.

Have you any odd or funny or alarming pandemic behaviour responses?

 

Words for Wednesday

 

Words for Wednesday will be here for the Month of April. All the way from Newfoundland, Canada, which has its own time zone - 30 minutes ahead of the rest of Canada. Thanks as always to Elephant's Child for keeping this feast going. 

This meme was started by Delores a long time ago.  Computer issues led her to bow out for a while.  The meme was too much fun to let go, and now Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a movable feast. 

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.  Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image.   What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...  We can use some or all of the prompts, and mixing and matching is encouraged.

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  I would really like it if as many people as possible joined into this fun meme, which includes cheering on the other participants.  If you are posting on your own blog - let me know so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud.

Here are the words for this week, In two batches with an image in the middle, use some or all of the prompts.

From "The Book of Longing" by Leonard Cohen. Art by Leonard Cohen.

Canopy*

Thorn*

Machine*

Charity*

Limp*

Aisle*

Nothing*

Sneak*

He'd been a thorn in her side for so long, she'd lost track of the times he'd teased and belittled her. And now here he was, all grown up, she sneaked a look, the slight limp from the long ago motorcycle accident giving him a roguish slant. Their childhood battles all but forgotten, falling away into nothing.

He'd come back into her life installing a machine - the new printing press for her company that ran the children's charity.

And incredibly, here she was, walking down the aisle, moving under the white canopy, leaning on her father's arm, smiling up at Luke her childhood enemy, as he held out his hands and grasped both of hers, smiling, solid, as if he'd always been standing there. Waiting.

Words For Wednesday

Words for Wednesday will be here for the Month of April. All the way from Newfoundland, Canada, which has its own time zone - 30 minutes ahead of the rest of Canada. Thanks as always to Elephant's Child for keeping this feast going. 

This meme was started by Delores a long time ago.  Computer issues led her to bow out for a while.  The meme was too much fun to let go, and now Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a movable feast. 

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.  Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image.   What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...  We can use some or all of the prompts, and mixing and matching is encouraged.

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  I would really like it if as many people as possible joined into this fun meme, which includes cheering on the other participants.  If you are posting on your own blog - let me know so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud.

Here are the words for this week, In two batches with an image in the middle, use some or all of the prompts.

Wardrobe

Silhouette

Sergeant

Dispensation

Placebo

Displeasure

Sympathy

Discretion

Good luck all!

Update (my take on the words)

Normally, Cat would never emerge from the wardrobe during daylight but the noises outside had forced him to abandon his discretion.  Through the window and murky fog, he could dimly perceive The Sergeant's silhouette making his noon rounds. He was filled with sympathy for the broken man allowing him a dispensation from normal human behavior.

The loss of Mrs. Sergeant had disrupted the entire household. Even Old Dog had gone off his feed and had ceased his only remaining hobby of making fun of Cat. It was a sad household. They offered each other placebos of pats and licks when their paths crossed, but their displeasure in each other's company in this time of interminable grief was evident.

Everyone just wanted to be alone. The Sergeant marching around outside, Old Dog moping in his basket by the fire and Cat hiding away in the wardrobe.

But today was different. The Sergeant had finally broken outside. He was weeping openly. Cat looked at Old Dog and flipped his tail. They slowly walked to the door.

The Sergeant came in, leaning his back against the closed door and then, bending down, enfolded Cat and Old Dog in his arms.

Mondegreens

 Andrew today posted about Mondegreens. If you're not familiar with the word or need a reminder, here is the definition.

mon·de·green

/ˈmändəɡrēn/

Learn to pronounce

noun

1. a misunderstood or misinterpreted word or phrase resulting from a mishearing of the lyrics of a song.

I've had a few of these over the years but the following is one of the worst, which kept those who heard me regaled with laughter - but not in front of me, always rushing to the bathroom or outside to double over. Obviously it was too funny to have me continuing rather than to have me corrected.

Here is the original song, My Resistence is Low, it was released, I believe in 1951, so forgive me, I was 7. But I remember how wonderfully catchy the lyrics and melody were and also I hadn't a clue what the big words meant. And there were far too many occasions where it came on the radio and I joined in, probably drowning out the professionals.

This is the part I kept mondegreening:

You with your overcoat,

And your underpants low

I'm going overboard

Through the Gap of Dunloe*.

Absolutely no relation whatsoever to any of the lyrics. But you'd only have to play the first couple of notes to that song now, and I'd bellow my version at ya. 

*A gorgeous spot in Ireland. Many family picnics there.

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 I'm booked for my first jab on Wednesday, the 30th. Daughter is a volunteer firefighter so she had hers yesterday and only suffering a bit of soreness and extreme tiredness.

I am find it difficult to focus lately, apart from reading engaging books. I'm enjoying Tana French's latest which is holding my attention even though her use of the word "cookie" all over the place is a little annoying. In Ireland, cookies are "biscuits" and biscuits are "scones". But trivial, right? It shows how petty minded I can be.

I'm using this as a meditation point as I can't seem to get ripping on a knitting piece that didn't work out and needs to be redesigned. It's a belated wedding gift for a niece. Really belated now. And I'm foostering and dawdling and sighing and hand wringing but nothing is being generated.

I love these beautiful shapes and the subtle colours. And each piece has a little memory inside it of places I've been and who I was with.

My energy is pathetic. This week I'll be 5 weeks on the iron and doc had said between 4 and 8 weeks for any effects to be felt.

I'm still working on my new card. The prose/poem is evading me. 

Writers' and knitters' blocks All at once.

I can hardly wait for each of them to lift.

Little things

 I found these on line after a couple of years of trying to find red ones. I have splashes of red around the apartment to warm it up. My kitchen, as I've mentioned before, is so poorly designed as to be laughable. The lack of counter space is unbelievable but I have expanded it with a wooden cart.  And these burner covers add additional counter type space and cheer this section of my home up immeasurably.

These end tables were part of the marital home yonks ago and followed either me or Daughter to various homes since. Most recently as bedside tables in her house. Now they have moved back to me. The lamps (gift from Daughter) don't show how beautifully red they glow and bathe the living room so invitingly at night.

And finally, I bought these cheerful file folders with various messages a long time ago, 

I've always loved unusual file folders and treasure the ones I bought in Paris the last time I was there which are so well made and hold so much and can't be bought anywhere here. I've searched.

I'm getting ready for tax season, thus the obsession with file folders. And before you mention them, those accordion jobbies so many are in love with? Have you ever dropped one on the floor? And the space they take up? To each her own. As in all things.

Gratitude

 DKZ, co-incidentally, wrote about this today.  Just as I was thinking of my own list.

Somedays it takes digging through the coal for the diamonds, other days those jewels shine with the power of the sun.

I am grateful for many things today.

(1)A tube of 7 Fathoms that Daughter brought me on the weekend. My own small tube was running out and I was using it sparingly but I wouldn't dream of saying that to her until she gifted me with a large tube of this magnificent lotion. 

(2) Walking 1,000 steps yesterday. Can't tell you the last time I could do that. Way back in the mists of time in 2020. This iron is kicking in. Big Time.

(3)Reading a fabulous book gifted to me by Grandgirl, The Purple Hibiscus. A gripping read.

(4) Watched a beautiful movie last night : A Song for Jenny - yes, I cried, but sometimes we just need a good ol' cry, right? So much bottled up during these Covid Times.

(5) Visiting all your blogs and getting caught up with your doings, and beings, and interests.

(6) Receiving a long post card from a friend who had previously ticked me off with unwanted advice, recalling a special star filled night we had watched together during the Perseid Meteor Shower and that he brought to mind many times since, one of the highlights of his life. Interestingly enough, even with the prestigious memory I do have, I have completely forgotten it.

(7) A brother celebrating his 72nd birthday today. And so grateful all six of us siblings are still alive and meeting on Zoom every Sunday from around the world.

Limbo

I can't thank you guys enough for all the private messaging and comments during my recent bout of illness. 

What I find most beneficial are the affirming comments and emails. 

What  I find devastating (and interestingly none of these from fellow blog-mates but from long term friends) are messages lecturing me on my "poor choices" in not going to the hospital for a multiple day stay in isolation and denying my feelings on the matter and told to think only of my being less of a burden on my family. As if I am incapable of making carefully evaluated decisions on my own.

It's been a rough old time, guys. Not enough strength to write most of the time. And you know, a lack of interest in life and most of all participating in it.

I am back on my iron pills and the last few days have seen a small resurgence in my energy. I am awaiting news of a more planned approach to this multiple testing rather than the awful rush of the last which would have been a disaster. And not just for me but for my family.

Enough said about it all. I am back in the writing saddle so to speak and can hardly wait to get caught up your blogs.

I managed to get to my beloved beach with Daughter yesterday. We picked up some Mexican take out for a picnic and drank in the gorgeous air so much we forgot to take photos. It felt like the clouds of winter and Covid were lifting us onto a different plane which was affirmed later by zero new cases in the province.

With this first taste of spring at 6 degrees celsius, there were many like thinkers, hikers, babies, children and dogs on the strand and all the magnificent trails surrounding it.

I felt very much part of the land of the living and not of the dead.

Back to Square One

I had a couple of days of relief but for the past five days it's been back to exhaustion, pain, and this miasma of hopelessness covering everything. I've been nearly a year in isolation and the remaining nerve in my head is jingling and not in a good way. It's tough living alone and making all decisions with regard to health care, ever conscious of mobility challenges and lights at end of tunnel have to be self-instigated or not at all. And I don't have a match.

Sorry to be on such a downer, my lack of energy is dragging me into a dark place. It seems like my entire creative spirt has upped and left. I can't even get my new card put together.

I only whinge to my whinge buddies. On here is just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. I haven't heard from specialists or have test appointments. I am super pale and a friend (masked) who delivered soup was shocked at my appearance which didn't make me feel better but a whole lot worse. I've lost interest in food, can't get enough sleep and it takes me a good hour to get oriented and kinda moving in the morning.

Okay. Cheery thought..

A huge shock. Grandgirl and her partner are moving here May 1 for three months at least. They can each work remotely. They are moving into a house right here, vacant, and owned by another family member:

To say I am thrilled that she will be living just around the corner from me is understating it. Totally unexpected though Daughter and I dreamed of it but just between the two of us. 

So over and out and I plan to try and read blogs today and connect with all you lovelies. 

 

 

 

Update

 This iron tho!

It has me off the painkillers. I had a brief rotten reaction to the codeine where it heightened my symptoms. 

I am astonished at how forgiving the body is when corrections to deficiencies are made.

I'm not exactly planning a road race quite yet (my brain does this - it gallops ahead - the act of slowing down has been very difficult for me)  but I can walk across the room without taking a break.

I finally looked up the effects of chronic anaemia on the body and I completely fit the bill. I am surprised I could climb out of bed - albeit with some difficulty. I believe this downswing has been going on for a year, worsening just about every month and all my case doctors believing "another" doctor was taking care of it. I didn't mention my episodes of periodic blindness which were frightening, now also gone. Every afternoon for about 15 minutes. And putting my head down to "rest my neck". All iron deficiency. 

I have not heard from any specialist in the meantime to schedule the tests. We had a few more cases of Covid 19  hospitalized.  We are a tiny province and almost know each case personally or have one degree of separation from it. Daughter knows of a whole family down with it. Niece has had to contend with her whole family being exposed through schools - thankfully all negative.

In other news, I had to help a neighbour/friend out of a massive scam. The scammer emptied her pitiful bank account. A company based in Washington, DC. She didn't bother even with a basic Google on them which listed hundreds. The dollar signs of untold riches circled in her eyeballs. She only had to manage a website for Amazon. Believe me when I say that she can barely turn on her own computer. Absolutely no skill sets whatsoever.

Anyway long story short (and it did take a lot of my time, trust me) I reviewed the 6 page contract and found the tiny clause of "cancellation within 3 days" and immediately got a strong email out to them cancelling herewith and forthwith and witnessed and she got her money back.

So yes, she was crying in gratitude and shamed and humiliated too. 

No such thing as a free lunch. Ever. I am a born cynic of these "opportunities" as in my past career I counselled many such victims of pyramid schemes, investment goldmines, etc.

Thanks for all your wonderful and heartwarming wishes and the prayers from those who pray.

I will continue upward I hope.

One hour at a time.

So guys, I'm quite sick.

 I've had a series of tests to confirm that my blood is at dangerously low levels. Which means that I have internal bleeding of some kind.

Awaiting hospital and extensive testing to source.

I have absolutely zero energy but mercifully (without my asking again) I am prescribed better pain killers which means I am pain free but near collapsing most of the time. So I am extremely careful in movements.

My neighbor next door is on 2 hour watch with me, which means every two hours she texts me and if no response will call 911.

A shipment of iron pills just arrived so I will be on those until hospital confirm appointments and tests.

We are on Alert Level 5 here which means that no family member can attend me in hospital which is rather alarming. Plus risk of Covid on top of this.

But this is affirming, you know. I knew I was quite ill though at times I felt it was "all in my head" as I felt slightly ridiculous sitting down between minor tasks like brushing my hair or making breakfast in 4 steps. It's only when I wrote down all my symptoms (thanks to my loving Daughter) and read them all out to the doctor that he sounded the alarm bells.

Meanwhile my beloved coffee pot died and luckily I had an ancient up French press in my cupboard.

Gack, life without a good fresh ground dark roast would have been untenable right now.

Mini Meltdowns

 I had a few yesterday. I was on CBC again (no clip yet, sorry) speaking on seniors and this ridiculous speedy election (power grab, basically) and the challenges for seniors having to vote in person (no internet usually, no access to online or fax requests for ballot). And another challenge, which falls below the radar of most, some of them have to work to make ends meet at the polling stations. I worked it last year and I'm telling you the toll of 16 hours on my body for $200 had me two days in bed. As it had the other seniors who worked it. 

So I expounded on what most would not be aware of, this fresh hazard for seniors with their compulsion to vote at all costs, as they have always voted. And begged a cancellation of this silly election. And lo and behold we had two pressers from the premier and the chief medical officer yesterday and we are now on Alert Level 5 overnight and this egregious election cancelled. The UK variant is here and most infected by this are under 20.

So yes mini-meltdowns. It's hard to be living alone in such circumstances. No one to share the fear with, apart from texting and phone calls which are not the same. There are still the long hours of silence when music can have the effect of making one long for live concerts and theatre. As when I played my Glenn Gould playlist, my god how he interpreted Bach is sublime!

I worry and cry for the young ones in my family. The long term effects, the mental burden of no socializing in the years when it is so important. 

My mail (I crept to the mail boxes late at night so I would not encounter the Maskless Wonders who would fuel my residual rage) was full of delight. Two gorgeous handmade cards from Daughter and 3 photos of my great-niece and great-nephew (twins) with a lovely card.

How do I plan my food was questioned in a couple of emails I received about my new regimen. Simple. I write everything down ahead of time. And stick to it. I am never hungry. One of the secrets is a little bit of protein and a little bit of fruit at 10 at night. So there's none of that night starving.

A long post.

A dear diary kind of entry. But there you have it from the Land of Alert 5. And oh yes, the weather. Here you go. Outside my window. There's no end to the joy.

Turning a Nasty Corner

 So here. On this so far so safe island, Covid 19 is now out of control in the schools and polling booths. Our premier called an election in the midst of a pandemic. With no votes by mail or on line. I won't post links but you get the picture.

Mask wearing was not enforced in schools, shame on the educators involved and sports meets were just about normal.

Complacency ruled. We were so safe. I saw that in my own building. Darts, coffee mornings, card games, laundry rooms, who needs masks? You're over-reacting WWW! These are seniors who regularly babysat grandchildren and had big family gatherings on the weekends. Asking about their bubbles was to receive derisive laughter. 

So here we are now. Community spread and imminent lockdown coming up.

Meancwhile, the hospital called me for a back X-ray on my doctor's orders (at least he's working for me!) and both the nurse and I laughed and laughed. As if. 

So on the phone with my sister today she was telling me (she's in Ireland) that some seniors there are opting out of ventilator treatement and choosing death instead. That gave me shivers.

Meanwhile niece's family (she, husband and 5 kids) have all been tested yesterday on a drive thru and so far so good.

By way of light relief I offer you a picutre of my mountain of books which pleases me no end.

And the gang on the windowsill. The middle one is thyme, one of my favourite herbs, which I have never, in all my born years, grown successfully before.

Update

 I had an unpleasant reaction to some new medication the doc prescribed. And I truly hate to say this but everything seems to be an uphill battle lately with, internally, myself screaming: not another effing hill to  climb.

Daughter was in and I just couldn't summon enough strength to go out to lunch with her so she brought some Indian curry in. A new Indian restaurant has opened on this side of the city and the food was delightful. Absolutely the best samosas I have eaten and the lamb curry was to die. A huge menu. Opening in a pandemic is quite gutsy.

A friend/neighbour had given me some pills she was using for her pain management and they also worked for me but doc refuses to prescribe and was enraged I had taken medication not prescribed. I hear him but I was desperate just to get some relief in walking across a room, just for a day. So he refused to prescribe them as I might get "addicted" or long range, they might lose their efficacy. I said the quality of my life was so badly effected that I would take anything at this point. And I was an old woman - what? did he think I was going to wind up under a bridge with a needle in my arm? No budge.

I was down though for lots of days and I am going to tackle him again. But I had to conserve my strength for CBC and the interview which went well, I thought.

If you wish to hear it, please email me at wisewebwoman at gmail dot com and I will send you the link. I wish to remain anonymous here as I write of everything from my personal journey to more political matters and I need to keep my oars in the water so to speak.

I keep counting the small things today to keep my spirits up. I'm reading a marvelous book called "The Guest Book". It's gripping. Thanks to whoever recommended it. And there's some great stuff on Britbox that holds my attention. One recently watched was "A Confession" with Martin Freeman, based on a true story.