Sunday Selections

Joining with many others in this feast of forgotten, overlooked and meaningful photos. Here are some participants: River is one, Andrew is one.  Messymimi is one. Kylie  is another. Drop in to their blogs and have a look.

I've hit a bit of a slump as I await the complete evaluation of those concerning bits on my lungs. I stopped smoking about 38 years ago. And never picked up again. Of the four of my brothers who were/are affected with lung cancer (two different types) two went back to smoking after multiple years abstaining and both quit again. One has now died. One just survived a very serious operation to remove a tumour in the lung which was attached to the spine.

So naturally, the mind goes there. I wish I could know more. My doctor has pleaded with the technicians to evaluate my X-rays. Crickets. Though brilliantly, she calls me every day to ask how I'm doing. My appointment with the internist was deferred to the 22nd.

Anyway, these are a few delights from my indoor garden.

Their colours lift my spirits so much. I find myself talking to them. Encouraging them, praising them. 

 

Lunacy can be a good thing in this troubled world. As a wise old shaman once said to me over a wonderful outdoor fire on a starlit night in the middle of nowhere:

"Always stay where your hands are."

I'm trying.

Small Things and Twisty Backs

 As you know I've got a bad back (stenosis) my age and surgery are not a good match for any kind of "cure" which is a 50/50 proposition at best. It all started with a bad (very stupid) fall on thick ice. Right on the cocyx and skull and another ambulance trip as, bingo, concussion. Evidently I was hilarious in my nonsense spouting but no record exists, unfortunately.

Today I twisted my already unhappy back so that I am now walking around in a U-shape. I attended a meeting I couldn't miss today looking enfeebled (great word) which was interesting in the others' treatment of me - as if I was a half-wit. Which brings home what most disabled feel when they are ALWAYS treated like imbeciles, as if deafness, blindness or a wheelchair can make your IQ drop 100 points. Most disturbing. And humbling what we take for granted being upright.

I took a few photos around my apartment to make me feel a little better. The small things in life, I tell ya, are all that really matter.

First this was a bud yesterday:

And then today it was this:

And a surprise second blooming from this:

The joys these wee babies give me know no bounds.

What are your "small things?"

'Tis the Season

I don't, anymore, rally myself around the season. We do celebrate Solstice though. My pagan ancestors live on in my bones and I find their worship of visible objects much more logical to my analytical brain.

But this year I hauled out some small bits and pieces and am readying myself to make more of a go of it. You wouldn't believe the lashings of decorations in my building. The word excess doesn't do it justice. 

With that in mind I  bought some flowers and took the time to arrange them in my mother's old jug, I say old, the thing must be well over a 100 years old, formed on this earth out of clay and bone-ash or whatever went into jugs back then. 

Not stopping with this huge effort (I was in a lot of pain as I lurched around) I spied these chrysanthemums and grabbed them. Why not? I sez to myself.

And my Christmas cactus decided to show her multiple faces recently:

I thought I would reinstate my Women's Christmas this year on January 7th. A long standing tradition in my home county of Cork, Ireland, which Covid and other health issues has prevented me from hosting. You can read all about it in this previous post from 2021 I am amazed at how many times that post has encircled the globe and has instigated the tradition as far away as Australia and New York and even Paris.

Once my little itty bitty corner of seasonal decor is completed I will post a few pics.

Old Dog New Tricks

 I remember Lana telling me once (I think she was aware then of the beginnings of her dementia) that it really helped the brain to switch things up. Accordingly she was sleeping on the other side of her bed and had moved her toothbrush to the other side of the sink and her hair stuff to her bedroom out of the bathroom.

She was never a cook, ate her breakfast "out" every day for about 45 years give or take. And shopped for "stuff" as she needed it. I tend to organize myself a little better than that and save money while doing so as I don't impulse shop in grocery stores like many of my friends. I order on line and have it delivered to my car and plan a menu around my supplies and stick to it.

I do switch things around a bit. And I engage my brain in 12 games of scrabble every day. On line for about 15-20 years now. We all have pretty high ratings so that is challenging and good for the brain. I also read voraciously, now with a magnifying glass due to my right eye being nearly blind. So there's that. And design and knit "stuff."

So on this caloric reduction regime I am doing quite well. I make a variety of soups, delicious soups. My phone camera is old and my phone owes me nothing so I need to upgrade. So apologies for the quality.

Today's soup, a large pot, is potato/carrot/lowsalt bacon, chopped/onions.chopped/ kale chopped and portabella mushrooms fresh and sliced thin and used as garnish after gently sauteeing them. All in a no-salt chicken stock. I cook the carrots and potato first then blend these with an immersible blender before putting in the sauteed kale, bacon, onions and mushrooms.

Seriously? It's to die. This is a huge pot and I will freeze much of this in smaller containers and give away to those who like that sort of thing.

I've gone down around 3 sizes in the 8 weeks I've applied myself to these restrictive measures and my body thanks me.

I saw my new primary care person today and I was surprised at how thorough she was, familiar already with my intake interview which was detailed and took well over an hour and with discussion on the comments from my specialists on my on-line file. We're going to do well together, I believe. I really like her.

And my little window garden delights me with these:

I'm still not in perfect condition for an old dog, but this salt free soup making is a new trick and I can sit while slicing and chopping which is a bonus. 

Have you learned any new tricks lately?

Sunday Smatterings

I don't know where this wee vase vanished to but I always loved arranging flowers in it.

This old vase has gone too but I always had some beach flowers in it from the beach in front of my old house.

I love this wee arrangement from my old bathroom of flowers I grew in the community garden.

I picked up Daughter at the airport a few hours ago. I've missed her as she was in Toronto for nearly 2 weeks. We talked non-stop over a Singapore noodle dinner. She had a wonderful trip and caught up with family and friends including her father. But she's glad to be back here "to my wonderful life" she calls it. I agree. There's something about this place that feels so "home" to both of us. Hard to explain to anyone else, truly, it's so visceral.

For the Price of.....

For the price of a beer or a fancy latte

Or a bag of cheap cookies or a cafe au lait

Or a magazine rampant with pages of ads,

Or dollar store gizmos: the latest of fads.


The main one I place right by my side,

The second one goes to the hallway outside,

The third one sits in the wee room to stay

And I ponder the wealth of my lovely bouquet.

Snap Judgements

I was away last weekend, well actually the weekend before last. While there I had a heart stopping text, one where I burst into tears, my heart was so raw. The text read: "Terrible tragedy. T----- (her daughter) was found dead today. We're numb."

I felt sick. This friend and I had bonded over the difficulties with our daughters. My missing, estranged daughter and her unstable daughter. Each having mental health issues.

I follow my instincts in such matters now. I knew her extended family would gather around her and her husband for a while. So yesterday, after I left my sleepover in St. John's I went to a flower shop to get my friend B and her husband a living flower arrangement and planned to go directly to their home in the country.

So I'm in the flower shop and as luck would have it there's a woman of approximately my age ahead of me trying to put an arrangement together and taking a whole week of my precious time to do so.

"No, that's way too many carnations, take a couple out."

"You don't have enough baby's breath, no problem I'll wait while you go into the back room fridge."

"Oh, that's too much, no hang on, put more carnations in. No, only red, like I said."

"Hang on, it's out of balance. I want it to be perfect."

This went on for another five or ten minutes. At one point the clerk rolled her eyes at me as they discussed ribbons and cellophane for the arrangement.

The woman turned suddenly and looked at me and muttered an apology for holding me up.

With great will power, stifling my annoyance, I threw on a smile and said:

"You friend must be very precious and special."

Her eyes flooded with tears.

"I'm just off the plane from New York," she said, "I'm going to visit Caroline, my very best friend in the whole world, I haven't seen her in 10 years."

"Oh," I said, now fully engaged and curious, my impatience forgotten, "That's a very long time".

"Ah," she said, "She has advanced dementia now. Has had it for years. Her husband phoned me a few days ago and said she has very little time left. But I must see her. At her wedding I carried a bouquet of red carnations and baby's breath and I'm hoping that seeing this arrangement might trigger a memory of our friendship, you know?"

What was there to reply? I nodded, understanding completely. And as she left, I said:

"That's a beautiful tribute of remembrance for you both."

And then fussed in my turn for the little garden arrangement to bring to B.

Wait for me!

I took the time to pick these on the shore just now. Beach-stone blossoms I call them.

Life is whizzing. I'm trying to slow it down. I would swear on the stack that I had posted to this blog a day ago. Not so, it was Tuesday.

A friend said on Thursday night: I can't tell you what happened the week, it knocked me flat on my face as it blew over.

The Da had warned me. Said this would happen, the galloping effect. He was right on a lot of things. Wrong too. Who's perfect. But on this: A+, Da. Nailed.

Speed of light. Today I raced. In a road race not far from here. Day started out with a lovely chill. Halfway through the race the sun shoved the clouds out of the way and blazed. We all wound up, men and women, boys and girls, looking like we were all wearing peculiar skirts with our running jackets tied around our waists, trailing onto our legs, now red faced and sweating while the starting line had us jumping around to keep ourselves warm.

Daughter and I did it together, she is taller and longer of stride. I remember thinking to myself, she's 23 years younger than me and I take 3 steps to her 2. I feel like a bantam hen beside her, slightly OCD because I internally count things. A lot.

Do you? Count things I mean. I was talking to a friend about this peculiarity over dinner a few weeks back. She brought it up. She's a reverend. Odd that: the humanist and the reverend nattering over a stir-fry. We do get along. Amazing isn't it? And then it turns out we both count unconsciously. And had never talked about it before. With anyone. Goosebumps. I'm not alone. Half the time it just bubbles along under the surface.

My dad and I would bike together. Huge distances. Like 30 miles in total so we could catch a swim in Fountainstown. There are advantages to being the oldest. Your parents are younger and more agile and less distracted by younger rug-rats. We'd play numbers/words games as we rode on Sunday afternoons. Less cars then, absolutely no helmets or bike shoes or gears. Imagine. How many gates did we pass on that last mile? Dad would shout. Eighteen! I'd shout back. Corr-ect! He'd affirm.

It all started then.

Small is beautiful

Sometimes I tend to overlook the small stuff. But today, on my daily constitutional I brought the camera along. I love walking by the shore in the evenings, watching the light play on the water, the crows who line the shore learning new tricks (picking up the leftover crabs from the seagulls and dropping them from a great height to crack the shells), an errant seal bobbing up and down in play, rabbits, shrews, and flowers. Oh, the flowers that dance up when the sun has been kind. Like today.

The wild roses (dog roses my Granny called them) were brought over from Ireland back in the day and they proliferate everywhere here. I make rosehip jam from them in the fall - a jam I introduced to here.

Then these little purple flowers emerge:

The irises and lupines are on their way.

The outburst of green has been sudden here. Overnight we go from maybe-winter to full-fledged spring. Summer comes in July. And I hear the whales are in.

I must track them down. Tomorrow.

Da Big One

This is the immediate forecast:

For Thursday night there's an additional 35 to 40cm of snow. Friday has another 20cm and this is all followed on the weekend by a dumping of rain. Winds are supposed to hit 100km/hour which will make it a first class STORM alright.

Right now it is -8c which is very chilly for here. It makes for a star struck night though. Every single star keeps the darkness of the sky awash in white. It is spectacular.

The dog barks outside. I can't see at what, but the bay bounces her voice back at her. There is an overstuffed cat who is patrolling the road out front lately. White with black splotches. You can tell by the strut that (s)he owns the place. It could be the cat out on night patrol putting the fear of gawd into the canines. I had a cat like that once. Owned the entire city block. Would walk with our dogs, head high. Other dogs would whine and run from him.

Grocery stores were so busy today with the impending storm coming. I am well stocked. Power outages are the biggest fear. I am grateful I have the wood stove which does just about everything except wash the dishes.

Hunker is the word I'm using. Lots of books, candles and even an oil lamp and Daughter has fortuitously stored a propane ring in my garage.

What could possibly go wrong?

I'll let you know.

And a picture of flower gifts from the weekend (as a scent-filled reminder of "can Spring be far behind?"):

Dongles and E-Readers and Geraniums and an Author

My brave geraniums on the deck today, 2012/11/17

I read a few blogs on the topic of pleasure today. What makes us happy?

I commented on one blog that we all need to think about the things that don't cost money.

Well almost.

I tallied up my airmiles.  And realized that I could get two items on my wish list for free. One was a dongle for my computer that would allow me to listen to radio in my house rather than sitting in my car in my driveway.  You read that right. I can get reception in my driveway in my car but the house radio does not work unless I hang it off the deck and that gets mighty cold in the winter. So this dongle thing I saw in someone's house. It hooks up to the computer and you can set the speaker anywhere in the house wirelessly and endless radio stations are yours for the taking.

Next thing on my wish list was an E-Reader. And my airmiles covered that too. I can download from the library now without leaving my house. Imagine. You're all probably guffawing at this point. Many of my readers have been enjoying their  E-Readers for like, centuries, now. I'm a latecomer. I just love the feel of a real book with its paper and bookmark and often notes and how cosy it is in bed. I'll let you know how me and the dog cuddle up to the Ebook.

And like this is all free. Well I'm not a fool. I had to buy a lot over the past year to cover those two items. But once I found out I could get double the airmiles on my groceries I was off and running.

And then, Michael Redhill, AKA Inger Ash Wolfe,  whom I wrote about in Alter Ego was kind enough to comment on my blog. That pleased me. Muchly.