Life, Etc.

I spent 2 hours at the hospital getting an infusion. My ancient blood needed fixing. Too little iron, too little energy. Luckily, this clinic in the hospital is like a spa. Comfy recliner or bed, warmed blankets, and engaging staff who all seem to be delighted to work there. Daughter came with me.

Not that I've been idle. Between unplanned bouts of sleep, I am editing. Interestingly, the only writer in the anthology who has, seriously, the worst writing, is the one nagging me to get my arse in gear and finish the damn thing. I finally broke and told her her work doesn't demand editing, but a total re-write of all her work. Needless to mention, she was annoyed. I am always truly amazed at how oblivious some are. I farmed out two of her pieces to two other writers as I was slowly losing my mind at the rewrites - painstaking, and also, I was slowly losing my will to live.

I was disappointed in the Oscars. One Battle After Another was a ho-hum thing, characters way underdrawn, more like caricatures, but if you're into lots of bangs and violence without purpose, go for it. Sinners was another flop in my mind. The first 2/3 engaged me, but the last moved into the vampire realm, which has never appealed. Suspending disbelief is never my forte, and I felt that the writers felt rushed and had to finish the whole thing in a hurry. I did like the soundtrack.

My favourite movie last year was "Train Dreams". I'm old-fashioned, perhaps, in my lifelong love of film. But this film hooked me from beginning to end. In all aspects. The cinematography is breathtaking, the acting and script superb.

A couple of pics for Sunday Selections:

The Indoor Garden.

I'm in love with this writer. Truly.

My local beach, 40 shades of blue, sparkling in winter.

The Madness

You'd have to be mad not to understand that we are on the brink of another world war. There are a bunch of megalomaniacs in the US (and elsewhere) driving these forces of world domination. Trump has been the useful idiot. All of this feeds into his narcissistic sociopathic personality. He has no empathy or compassion; he is the tool, the face. Some report he gets all his information and biases from Fox News (or as I like to call it Faux Nooz). And to add to his disdain, he wore a cheap Trump baseball hat to the reception of the dead military returning to the US a couple of days ago. He promises there will be loads more. But *shrug* that's the cost of war, ya know. But that's not a war, he contradicts himself. 

Iran is not going to take this endless provocation and deaths (now at least 30,000, including countless children). They have better military equipment than the US and can hold out far, far longer. 

Meanwhile, the world pays for this folly, with skyrocketing energy costs affecting everything, food, travel, and survival.

Today's headlines cover men getting cheap hair transplants in Turkey and Americans overloading therapists' offices for sessions dealing with Trump anxiety.

Canada is under threat too, and we are very aware of it. Every mouthful of venom he spurts brings us closer.

Cuba is next on his menu. Followed by possibly Ecuador. Then Canada.

Here's the full list:

• Greenland: Frequently mentioned for acquisition due to its natural resources and strategic location.
• Canada: Cited as a target for absorption as the "51st state" through economic pressure.
• Venezuela: Following proposed invasion, the administration claimed it would "run" the country.
• Mexico: Mentioned in the context of territorial acquisition in the Western Hemisphere.
• Panama: Specifically, control of the Panama Canal Zone.
• Gaza Strip: Referred to as "property" for potential redevelopment.

Also known as the "Donroe Doctrine" after the Monroe Doctrine of Annexation.

We are in dark, unknown territory in these nuclear times. Netanyahu and Trump are busy keeping themselves out of jail on criminal and war crime charges. They don't care who gets in the way as the bodies mount to horrifying levels.

We can't shut our eyes to it. Many in Canada are buying guns for the first time. Daughter is a good shot. I was not bad in my time. But neither of us ever felt the need to own a gun.

Overreacting you might say? Realistic, I'd respond.

Maybe now is the time. In all my born days, I never thought I'd be writing about defending Canada. The most polite nation on the face of this earth. Except when we're threatened. 

Elbows Up!

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.

It's hard to capture the amount of snow here but out today, with the sun shining (and melting), this is the side of the parking lot.

Daughter, granddaughter and grandson-in-law and I had a treasured trip here a few years back. It's a remote island off a remote island and the lit up cottage is where we stayed. I bought the prints and daughter framed the three. Reflections are unfortunate but at least you see the house.

The top one is mine from the last place I lived, and the bottom is an oil painting of the colours of Ukraine when an artist friend was raising funds for this fierce, brave country. I won the bid.

Stuffs as Andrew would call this collection in my hall. And this is only the half of it.

Do cushions breed? Asking for a friend.

River posted a picture of her shower curtain so I'm posting a picture of mine. The bathroom is done up in that turquoise blue you see on the whale. We are in whale country here. My bathroom is also an art gallery of treasured wee pictures too. But that will be for another week.

Someday Selections

 

The above is my morning mantra along with "Pull yourself together and get on with it."

This is one of those freaky morning shots where I caught the reflection of my wee indoor garden on my TV screen and it looked like a painting.

This was yesterday outside my building and it got worse.

But the sun just came out and all is well. I just heard from my doctor and I'm scheduled for another iron infusion. But I'm fairly stable otherwise, kidney function up and down, which is the pattern now. I feel fortunate I have lived this long. 

And I look around the building here and wonder if I would switch places with anyone else and the answer is no. 

Grandgirl is showing me the finer points of AI. And I am curious and will remain so about this world and the universe as long as I am able. I stay engaged politically and pull away now and again when it gets painful and horrifying.

I have enormous compassion for my USian friends as I read the insane rantings from their leader and the absolute freedom he has to crime all he wishes without consequence as he loots the treasury. Unaccountable to anyone. I wish I believed in an afterlife and hell for this creature.

I am grateful to live in this wonderful country of ours and even more grateful I live way out on the edge of it on a rock in the wild Atlantic. Like an afterthought. But a lovely one.

Cherish

I haul that word out now and again. A perfect descriptor of moments, of little memories, of slivers of gratitude. A word used a lot in the Ireland I grew up in.

to love, protect, and care for someone or something that is important to you: Although I cherish my children, I do allow them their independence. Her most cherished possession is a 1926 letter from F. Scott Fitzgerald. Freedom of speech is a cherished (= carefully protected) right in this country.to keep hopes, memories, or ideas in your mind because they are important to you and bring you pleasure: I cherish the memories of the time we spent together.

 I had what I call a "shyte day" yesterday. I cancelled a physical therapy session as the chair yoga I had been doing caught up with me and I literally had pain from top to toe. Add this to the ongoing back misery and I was unfit for just about everything. But so grateful I had purchased a huge quantity of prepared salads a few days ago as I was way beyond cooking anything. Sobeys do the most amazing salads and include protein of all kinds, chicken, fish, hardboiled eggs and a huge quantity of various vegetables. A good ol' Canadian chain. Founded when God was an altar boy. An elder's gift for prepped meals.

But today is a cherish the moments kind of day. Pain has taken a mini-vacation and as much as I despise the unpredictability of each day from a mobility perspective, I grab the ones which don't get in the way of any kind of enjoyment.

I actually have a "visitor" coming today. A friend I haven't seen in a while. I avoid such encounters when I am in the misery of pain and discomfort. Who wants to listen and observe others struggling? 

I'm listening to some lovely music (music of my life) which has carried me through challenges and grief and all the ills us humans suffer.

And the moments we cherish and can relive at the touch of a button. I hope you enjoy this duet from The Pearl Fishers.

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'm under the wire here, barely making Sunday.

Just finished this 440 page charmer of a book about a gay artist who inspires a young homeless girl. It's beautifully written and had me crying a few times.

A Valentine's Card from the management of my building with a personal handwritten message inside. Very touching.

Daughter brought me this pen back from her trip to Scotland last year. I feel important when I write with it. Which is like every day.

My new knitting bag. Knitted, of course.

And I've been longing for one of these for a while, working in two colours. Handcrafted and gorgeous. No more balls rolling all over the floor.

A close up of my Hyacinth which brought me such joy.

Enjoy your week my dear readers as we cruise into Spring here and into Autumn for my readers in Oz.

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.

The simple things.

I like these clever cartoons.

A bowl of blackberries for breakfast this morning,

I gifted these two dishcloths I recently knitted yesterday. They last forever and never hold an odour.

I gifted myself this lovely wee hyacinth yesterday.

I gifted myself a sit-by-the-ocean-and-nothing-yourself for a long time yesterday. I call days like these #40shadesofblue.

Sometimes Our Hearts Break A Little.

I glanced out my window the other night. I was struck by this oul fellah struggling along on his cane to the requisite 25 feet from our building. Snow was coming down fast, the plows had been around three times already.

He balanced himself carefully on the stick and lit up. Rules are no smoking in the building or within 25 feet of it. The rule is taken seriously. Even when you're dying of lung cancer.

As he is.

As a recovered nicotine addict (2 packs a day when it was allowed everywhere even on planes and post partum in the maternity wing - yeah, I know, appalling breathing smoke on our newborns, you would be dumbfounded if you saw a photo of back then, I do have one somewhere) I sympathize with him. We attribute my late brother's death to tobacco, he had quit for years and then went back for about 10 years which, I believe, nailed him to the cross of cancer.

All 6 of us siblings were smokers and quit along the way. My own withdrawal (no medical support back then, 38 years ago) was so terrible I knew I could never smoke again as I would never quit again.

This poor fellah tried to quit. I just know he did. All smokers do whether they say so or not. And now, in his late sixties he's dying one of the worst kind of deaths. Fighting for breath, plugging in tanks, yearning for the one thing that would bring him a comfort he defines.

Yeah. I'm so sad for him. 

PS I can't post this on local social media as many would know him.

Belatedly - The Books of 2025

The still-to-be reads from 2024

Intermezzo - Sally Rooney *****

Followed by the Lark - Helen Humphries ***

The Inheritance - Cauvery Madhaven ****

Still Life - Sarah Winman *****

The Postcard - Anne Berest *****

The Pages of the Sea - Anne Hawk  DNF 

The Adversary - Michael Crummy (2nd Reading) *****

Walking with Ghosts - Gabriel Byrne *****

Bewilderment - Richard Powers *****

The Overstory - Richard Powers DNF - tiny italics and my poor eyesight

The Wife Who Risked Everything - Ellie Midwood *

A Little Life - Hanya Yanagihar 0

Fresh Water for Flowers - Valerie Perrin *****

The Hypocrite - Jo Hanya *****

I'll Be Seeing You - Elizabeth Berg *****

Convenience Store Woman  - Sayaka Murata *****

How the Penguin Saved Veronica - Hazel Price ****

Dolly - Anita Bookner *****

The Killing Kind - Jane Casey *

Nun The Less - Patricia Brown Not rated, a friend.

Standing in Gaps - Seamus O'Rourke ****

American Mother - Colum McCann/Diane Foley ****

The Outside Boy - Janine Cummins **

Advice for Murders - Vera Wang *****

Cassandra at the Wedding - Dorothy Parker *****

The Precious Days - Ann Patchett *****

Signal Fires - Dan Shapiro *****

Isola - Allegra Goodman *****

King of Ashes - S.A. Cosby ****

Waiting for Gertrude - Bill Richardson DNF

Homecoming - Kate Morton **

Will and Testament - Vigolis Hjorth ****

The Secrets of Primrose Square - Claudia Carroll **

Heart Be At Peace - Donal Ryan ***

The Post Mistress - Sarah Blake *****

Question 7 - Richard Flanagan *****

A Truce That is not Peace - Miriam Toews *****

The Ruin - Dervla Mc Tiernan ***

The Narrow Road to the Truth North - Richard Flanagan *****

101 Days - Kamala Harris *****

Four Red Sweaters - Lucy Adlington *****

Nobody's Girl - Virginia Giuffre *****

We Did OK, Kid - Anthony Hopkins****

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

So there you have it, the list of books read or dropped (DNF) for 2025. Rated with 5 for superb and thus downward. At my advanced age I don't have time for books not to my interest anymore. Our Annual Jolabokaflod (literally book flood) celebrated at Solstice/Christmas yields treasures for the year ahead. We put great thought into our book selections for those we love. So these gifts are treasured and endure. And it has the added bonus of taking all the angst out of the seasonal gift madness.

I also get quite a few books out of my local library  which also has access to multiple libraries across Canada and will haul in any special request for me along with holding book requests (best sellers) for me. It's always lovely getting to know your local librarian and to be greeted by name when you walk in. They also offer a delivery to my home for the mobility challenged. When I lived in the outports they had a books by mail service until I founded the library in my town back then which still flourishes.

Below is the haul of unread treasures from this past Jolabokaflod, I have read a few already.

Let me know if you have questions on the 2025 books or share your own favourite reads of the past year. I do recommend keeping a book journal. I have done this forever, it seems.

 

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 love my indoor garden. These orchids are a constant source of joy as they take turns blooming. This one has 8 more buds and the blooms last as long as 3 months.

Dinner dropped off by a caring friend during the week. I am forever grateful to those who understand my frequent (far too) immobilizations and endeavour to cheer me. And they do. Food is such a visible expression of love.

I keep this prettily framed photo of my last four-legged companion, Ansa, on my desk. You can see the love in her eyes here. She was a never ending source of inspiration to me. A beloved rescued border collie and constant companion.

This is part of the tiny fishing village of Quidi Vidi (pronounced kiddy viddy) which is part of the city of St. John's near my home. An enchanting wee place.

This is a drone view.

Have a good week all.

 

Balance

 It's hard to maintain a balance in life, especially once we get older. I believe, also, that the advancing years can make us more impatient, more immediate in demands, more hurt by invisibility and lonelier as dear ones die.

I remember being at a gathering many years ago where we were asked individually what troubles we carried into the room. And we all got very honest and shared exactly what we were worried or grieved or in grief about.

And at the end of the evening we were all asked what troubles we would exchange with anyone else in that big room. And the answers were we would prefer to keep our own, thank you very much. Incredibly revealing.

It reminds me also of our human habit of comparing our insides to someone else's outsides. "They look happy all the time, what not me?" being a classic. Many project happiness and carry sorrow within. I know I've done it.

I remember this jolly older man, always joking, a little flirty and one time he shared with me that all three of his sons had committed suicide over the past 10 years. Yet there he was, doing his best, getting on with it and probably crying into his pillow at night. Books and covers come to mind and speaking of......

I'm reading this wonderful biography of an actor I've always admired. And he is a classic example of being wretched for years and wearing a sense of uselessness and stupidity (reinforced by his father) and letting that define his persona. How he surmounts many challenges is inspiring.

I took this photo out my living room window tonight. the white bit at the top of the pictures is an overhang of snow from the roof above, dangling like a canopy.

And finally a pic of my supper, one I make frequently as it is so easy. A tortilla in a pie plate, throw in 3 eggs and some cottage cheese, whisk,  add layer of spinach leaves and chopped red pepper, cover in shredded cheese (I use parmesan) and bake in preheated oven 425 degrees for 20-ish minutes, depending on the cottage cheese amount. Does me two meals. It reheats well in the oven. Micro would make it too wimpy.

So there you go.

I suddenly feel useful.

Blog Jam: Music.

I was playing this album for the umpteenth time today and had this heart stopping moment when I realized I fell in love with it 55 years ago!!

Which got me thinking of other songs, other albums other earth shaking moments of music. 62 years ago I heard this. I was 19. A man (boy?) I dated for a while (oh what a handsome fellah, from Liverpool, attending our university in Cork) who gave me a copy of this from one of his friends, John Lennon, from around the corner from his home). A brand new sound, no idea of the upcoming fame to come.

And then the song my father sang me every night (I was an only child for a while) and I loved it and still do. I am sure I drove him mad, night after night. "Singie Kacky, Daddy" was my first complete sentence. The song was "I'll take you home again, Kathleen".

And oh my God, when I was searching for it on line I found this: Elvis Presley sang his own version of it. WT...?

But this fellow below does a version very close to my father's, he was a fine tenor, my dad. Frank Patterson. Very pure. over 80 years ago when I heard this song first.

For Don: The Real Meaning of Christmas.

Don will never read this. He is basically fairly illiterate. He comes from a very well do to family who have given up on him through many rehabs, handouts, and giving up between bouts of giving in.

When he lived here I gave him the odd job of cleaning off my car from snow and ice. And doing a fine job if it was in the mornings, which it usually was. And gave him the odd handout and then stopped realizing I was enabling him. He often took my garbage out to the big bin and I'd slip him a five. If he was passing, he took my groceries up from my car. There was a great kindness in him. Sometimes he refused a tip, waving me off.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, his behaviour when he was drunk with other tenants in the community rooms was often aggressive and confrontational and threatening. Too many times. So his tenancy was terminated. And the management found him another placement in a building they have for troubled and addicts. He was brokenhearted leaving here, last September. But most of those who were involved in community activities were relieved. Understandably.

I open my door today and in the hall with my boots was a stuffed green bag and a card.

From Don.

It was packed to the brim with either gifts he had been given - warm gloves, a beanie, socks, soaps, deodorant, toothpicks, toothpaste, toothbrush, or freebies from motel rooms. You get the picture. Small packages of treats, a travel kit.

And I broke down and cried. 

This is one of the the most wonderful gifts I've ever been given. And as I write this, I'm still bawling my eyes out. The time, the effort, the lovely card, his access to our building. His walk from where he lived.

He had no way with words did Don. He was a pretty broken man from the booze and whatever pain he suffered in his life. I will never forget him.

You're a star Don. And a gentleman. And you will never know it.

"The Holidays"

 .....As we used to call this time. The time of "Santy", the time of anticipation, a mad excitement infecting all of us - as children, then as parents, and, if lucky, as grandparents.

I was chatting with a dear friend this morning when it struck us both that these feelings are now absent. I said, and meant it, I think I'd prefer if I was alone, to savour some memories, to play my own music, to not worry if I am unable to leave the family parties early as I don't drive at night, to just work on making myself smaller, more invisible in the excitement around me. To forget, if I can, the constant pain punching in my back lately which makes me sleep deprived and balancing pain meds so I don't zombie out but find that delicate balance of pain reduction while still being alert.  

I received a lot of cards but didn't have the energy to send out any this year. I become stingy with meting out my energy, some days I use it only for medical appointments, this past week it was a sleep management expert and a calibration of my home BP kit which was reflecting high BP for the past couple of months but at the clinic was proved false. I'm within normal for my age and condition.

I miss the old guard of my friends, now passed on or in brain deterioration of some kind. One in terrible depression. 

I tried to keep up with Grandgirl who stayed with me for a few days. She is wonderful company and we "Swifted" out together watching the Taylor Swift documentary. If I were younger, I would be one of those mad fans at her concerts. Maybe I could get an obliging young 'un to push me in a wheelchair? Worth a thought, right?

So a selection of random photos to Celebrate Sunday Selections and to remember dear Sue, what an awful loss. She lives on in so many of us.

A  "boreen"  (little road) from West Cork, Ireland. Undated. Taken about 20 years ago.

Another one of a boreen on Sherkin Island that I took. I had frameable prints made of this for all my siblings. John Willie was the famous ferryman who was drunk quite a lot and assigned a passenger to take his boat over to the island. At the age of 13 I was so designated one night. In a storm.

A view from the front of my building where you can see both the lake and the ocean in the distance.

May the season be kind to you and those you love and the coming light dispel any darkness or distress.🌲❄️🎅

Choices

 A longish post dear readers but I could have tripled the size. Count your blessings 🤣💕

Peter Paul and Mary sang it best. "We are only one river."

One can make the most of it or the worse of any situation. Choice, I know is a facile word. And sometimes overwhelming situations remove the luxury of choice.

I’m in that mode where I find I shut myself off from the old protestations of others’ entrenched, harmful positions on race and emigration and the othering of peoples they don’t even know and if presented with an opportunity, would turn away in disgust.

When such people are in your own circle it makes things challenging for an old woman, whose voice is often discounted. Who is basically invisible to most now apart from her own generation who often sigh, accept the inevitability of aging and keeping their mouths shut just get on with it

Old hippies should simply fade away. We should stop spouting tolerance or compassion or empathy for those “others”.

And mother of god shut up about that wokey stuff.

I have learned most from talking to strangers. From my brave delivery people who bring in my groceries, clean my home, deliver my medications, take my laundry and return it pristine and folded. Some are young. Some are refugees from appalling war-zones, starvation and threat. Eking out a living in a new country, struggling with English, hoping for a better life, taking menial jobs. One I have been blessed to know is from a “shithole” country as the Fat Felon likes to call them. He is taking classes, drives for DoorDash in his cousin’s car, shows off with his carrying of multiple bags to my home, balancing a coffee cup in the other hand, making me laugh. I always tip these wonderful helpers extra. A tiny boost along the way. What did you leave behind I ask them. "lady, you don't want to know" is a common response.

You see, I was an immigrant myself, I struggled in a new country, learning Canadian English, very different from the Hiberno-English I was brought up in. Learning completely different accounting systems from library books. Trying to fit in and knowing now how lucky I was to be white.

Immigrants, no matter the country, are NOT a monolith. They are never the same religion, race, sex or sexual orientation. They have the same desires and hopes I had. And many of the same reasons I left Ireland in 1967.

To “other” immigrants is to tell more about yourself than any self declaration of “I’m not a racist, but...” or ”you can’t tell a good immigrant from a bad immigrant.” Well, the same applies to any human, buddy, white, brown or black or mixed. It applies to you when you spout hatred and intolerance as if it’s normal discourse.

Choices.

We must always choose kindness.

We are only one river.

Stuffs

A 10 year old photo from where I used to live right on the bay. I love the sky and the reflections of the boats.

I always like the way Andrew says "Stuffs" referring to minor tasks or items and have used it now in family settings. It's far, far better than the singular "stuff". Apologies to so many of you for what Blogger does to your comments. I just went through Blogger Jail and rescued so many of your comments on my blog which were trashed without rhyme nor reason - many of you frequent bloggers. I will try and make an effort to make this part of my routine now - checking the blog comments. 

As to other stuffs, I've been busy writing an article for a magazine based in England. It's about my mother's experience with birthing which was an absolute hell of a torturous experience for her. More on that later.

The other bits of writing is my own memoir of a period in my life where the participants and identifiers are now all passed on so I am free to write about it.

More is editing of a anthology which is hard going. Some of the writing is great, others not so much and requires far too much extensive editing. And this I find exhausting and maddening which is not good for my innards.

I waited and am waiting today for a call from my nephrologist to follow up on recent lab work. Nada. Already an hour has gone by and here I am, trapped, writing the blog, neglecting leaving as I have my own on line lab-work results in front of me and I have a myriad of questions on the line items ticked for "not normal". I imagine elders (and I have anecdotal evidence) are shoved aside in a stretched health care system that focuses on the more viable of its patients.*

I am reading Richard Flanagan, an Australian author I have fallen in love with. His writing is superb.

Question Seven was my introduction

And now I am reading The Narrow Road to the Deep North.

I hope to read all of his oeuvre. At times he is lyrical. 

________________________________________________________________

*update she did call and apologised for delay. Amongst other stuffs I have to go to hospital for more blood infusions. I've been struggling with exhaustion and putting it down to old age. Relieved it's not that.