Another Completed Circle Around the Sun Thoughts

Yes, I'm the happy little cutie with my mother in 1946

I am quite astonished by all the birthday greetings rolling in on me. I suppose hitting the age of 79 is a feat to be applauded. Not that achieving this had anything to do with my healthful and perfect lifestyle. Not by a long shot. As some of you don't quite catch my sarcasm so there's a bit for you. Many of my really healthy friends are dead. Well come to think of it, most of my friends are dead.

Amongst the many messages is one from an old school mate who is a whole 10 days younger than me. she partly writes:

"Speaking of school reminds me of our old school and this bit of information might bring s smile.

One of our newspapers, the Irish Independent, has a Saturday magazine.  This Saturday it had a feature on Centenarians, Four centenarians were interviewed one of whom was Sr Mercedes.. She talked about her early life both before and after she entered  St Marie's of the Isle, but the piece that might interest you was how she became a Science teacher and introduced Science into St. Al's which was unusual for a girls school then.  She never taught me as anything science-y was beyond me.  Anyway I texted Gladys to let her know and she replied as follows"She was thrilled with wisewebwoman and myself when we burned hydrogen in air and got  H20, ie water".   I wonder if you remember that incident.  Gladys also said that your class was the first to study Science in St Als. Glad you didn't burn down the Science building anyway!" 

I calculated this was 65 years ago, which is incomprehensible really. I can remember the experiment clearly in our spanking new laboratory. Girls and science were at a great remove from each other then. I feel like a living history book. Along with science and physics our incredible headmistress insisted her "gels" be taught calculus by a male teacher from the boys' school across the river.  (Our school was a picturesque old red brick building in the middle of the river Lee). Higher mathematics were absolutely unheard of for any schoolgirl in Cork city in those days. We were incredibly fortunate.

Equally astonishing to my mind is that a teacher of mine is still alive today.

Sunday Smatterings

Of cabbages and kings....

I put all names in the hat to receive my cards and bonus, added another card so extracted 6 names rather than 5.

So here they are:

Cup on the Bus
River
Gigi from Hawaii
Twilight
Tom (Sightings)
DKZ

I am also sending one to Elephant's Child in thanks for her mailing a beautiful Monet bookmark and card to me ( I have your address EC).

So please, send me your snail mail addies ASAP to wisewebwomanatgmaildotcom. You know what to do with those ats and dots.

In other news the show was a roaring success, sold out both shows. I can't tell you how thrilled I was to be back on stage again but more so it was around the special type of energy that only a theatre crew can produce, it is highly intimate and gratifying.

My birthday was wonderful in every way. I do wish I had more energy, I know this seems like a constant bleat from me but hell, aging, winding down, you know. One of my siblings sent me the most wonderful email and I will treasure it. As some of my family of origin need some massive healing this meant more than I can say. It's never too late to "do the work" as a wonderful shaman once told me. And it is good and rewarding work to throw out the old patterns and embrace the joy.

A dear friend treated me to the most wonderful gift, a writers' festival weekend in Cape Breton. The brochure above has a painting done of her thirty years ago. This painting will be auctioned off at the end of the festival. The painter has dementia now, a beautiful talented woman with that wonderful long flowing white hair many of us desire in elderhood but are rarely gifted with.

I decided to fly. I've been adverse to flying for a few years now. I don't truly know why. Grandgirl convinced me as did my generous friend. One of those elder "notions". I can get assistance, and it's not about that, truly. It's the airport and cramped seats and overall discomfort and herding cattle atmosphere. Anyone else feel like that or is it just moi? I mean I'd fly at the drop of a hat before but now it's with a feeling of dread.

So onward as I embrace the new year for me ahead. We just never know, do we, what lies ahead and that's a very good thing, I would think.

Da Week Dat Was

Painting by Maud Lewis "Covered Bridge"

It was one of those weeks, non-stop gallop. I don't particularly like those but they can be fun too. I planned a surprise birthday dinner for Daughter who turned, gasp, fifty.

I am the mother of a 50 year old. I don't feel adequate or mature enough. She is thoroughly basted in middle age now, isn't she. Feel so very fortunate for living this long when of my friends more are now dead than alive.

The birthday was held at a local restaurant which closes during the week in non-tourist season but opens for large groups.

They especially made huge platters of Jiggs Dinner which included lashings of roasted turkey, masses of veggies cooked with salt beef, pease pudding, dressing, turnip, cabbage and mounds of potatoes and gravy. Man oh man, we were all groaning. There was hardly any room for the cake which was especially made by a friend who designed and made this gluten free number, complete with mathematical symbols which is Daughter's forte.

We all had a jolly good time.

We had a Book Club Meet thrown in during the week too. I was on duty for the dessert.

Then Car developed weird lights on the dash which alarmed me and I had to take it into the dealer, a long haul in freezing rain, you know it's bad when the trees are exquisitely ice-draped along with the power lines. But I made it in. Parts ordered.

Then it was off to see "Maudie" with a friend who texted on the off chance I was in town and would like to see it. Oh, I recommend. It left me spellbound. What I love about living in a small province is that I run into people I know at the movies all the time. So instant discussions on the quality of the film. And I know one of the producers too, she had the grace to see my play when it was on its run and expressed an interest in filming it at some point.

So there you have it.

All is well.

Overnight it seems, I have an elderly daughter.

New Tricks

It's not the years in your life.

It's the life in your years.

So the old clichés go, and there are many more, each yawn worthy.

I'm not one who plays all coy about my age, that would be to dishonour all those who weren't so lucky as to be still on this side of the daisies. And seriously what is all this age denial about? Pretending to be young? To be flattered when someone says you don't look sixty, or seventy or eighty? And "94 years young"? As if being an elder is a crime against humanity.

I'm an old woman, well seasoned, well historied, well lived. No apologies. And lucky enough that none of my cells (yet) have gone postal on me.

What a gift that is. To be an old woman.

Crotchety at times (I have to watch that, it's not very attractive - to me)but I'm basically a well intentioned person. I've rooted out the negatives in my life, removed myself from old dramas, old dynamics and hostilities. And feel all the better for it.

Peaceful.

Daughter had a lovely birthday luncheon for me. She's one of those who sets a very nice table. She comes from a long maternal line of great table setters. We're weak on the housework and hope that our lovely tables deflect any interest in the lack of dusting.

I had a long conversation with Grandgirl, we compared notes on Italy as she's back from another visit. Entranced with the muted colours as I was when I was her age and exploring it for the first time.

And new tricks. I'm working on these. Every birthday I try and plan something new for the coming year. A new skill, a new place to visit, a new interest, a new friend, a new club.

It's not happiness I've ever been after.

It's contentment.

And I do believe I'm almost there.

Better than.....

Sometimes we wait too long. I was at a 90th birthday party yesterday and whispered to my daughter "This is much better than a funeral, yeah?" and we both cracked up. Because it was. Ms E the celebrant - who looks like she has another 90 in her - was enjoying herself. Celebrating the slide show tribute, the multiple generations of her descendants, this fourth generation has produced girls for the first time, prior to then it was boyz and more boyz. She had six of her own who went on to produce countless more.

So I went on to ponder on "better thans".

This new technique to be used when I have stress or negative projections. Today is like, 9C, seriously. So I lit the fire. And thought: "This is better than snow and ice, remember your bad fall? Isn't this cosy?" And it is. I'm not reflecting on climate change and this weird chill and growing temperature challenges and...for also, "this is better than the stifling humid heat of Toronto where I lived for years and years."

As I knitted for an hour in the morning (goddess, how relaxing that is!) I thought to myself: "I'm doing way better with the arthritis - I thought my hands would be crippled with it when my thumbs started to ache so badly in the mornings."

And thanks to blogger That British Woman and the inspiring photos of Ernestine I plan my menus for a week and post them up in the kitchen. Better than sporadic or repetitive meals. And healthier in variety.

Daughter, the former prof, has found immense pleasure and fulfilment in being a part-time crab fisher. I celebrate her joy and happiness - so much better than the life she had before, her connection with the sea is profound and her capacity for hard physical labour, in spite of her health challenges, lightens my spirit. Better than the bubble of underlying anxiety for her I carried in the past.

So there ya go - do you have "better thans" in your day?

The Blues for the Greens - Part 4

Taken from the window of our birthday restaurant in Baltimore overlooking the harbour and our waiting ferry.

I won't go on and on about this trip. I won't. I want to. But I won't.

The other segments would take a wee book unto themselves. But the précis (does anyone still use that word) is as follows:

Sister and I went to the Cork Museum (twice, but that's another story) and caught a remarkable archival documentary recommended by my brother-in-law.

We also set to singing some old duets of ours in the pub on Sherkin Island which was mein-hosted by the most unpleasant publican we have ever chanced to meet. He was so appallingly rude and ungracious that we were all helpless with laughter several times, quite disbelieving that anyone so incensed by his job would continue in it. We kept looking around for a candid camera or a Monty Python crew to jump out and say "gotcha!". But alas, no such luck.

Our dinner in Baltimore at Jacobs was wonderful and we had arranged for a special ferry to take us back to Sherkin later on.

So you can guess what we did on this ferry. Yeah, we sang some more of our trusty old songs from our childhood days on the island. We didn't want this magical boat ride in the starlight to be over. And we all were a little teary-eyed as we pulled into the pier on Sherkin.

But Sister-Daughter had a surprise for The Twins. Overlooking the harbour, she handed Brother and me some lanterns and asked us to write our wishes on them.

Then we lit the candles inside them and sent them aloft. As we watched in awe, it seemed like they floated forever up to the stars.

The Blues for the Greens - Part 2

Behind the counter at Stuffed Live.

We were sitting at a table outside a restaurant in Bantry, my youngest brother and I. What an extraordinary name for a cafe, we had mused earlier: “Stuffed Live.'

Well, our family tend to do this, both at home and abroad. Stuff ourselves live, that is. So we had promptly headed in the direction of this sublime promise. It was only when we checked the header on the blackboard that we saw that the name was actually 'The Stuffed Olive'. Harumph. Who needs further correction of the lenses on the spectacles? Ah, but look, the “O” on the sign overhead was in palest green, who could see that? we commiserated with each other.

As I was saying. We sat there enjoying these fabulous sandwiches and cappucinos. Our family could hook up twelve IV lines to an espresso machine and just lie down in bliss all day. Seriously. The place was packed, so it was no surprise when we were asked by two women if they could join us. We are an insatiably curious bunch, us lads, so we greeted them like old friends and before plates were set down, we began the interrogation. Daughter and Grandgirl maintain our family should prepare a standard questionnaire listing all the questions to ask strangers to save time, both theirs and ours. I am mulling that one over.

Now this was a most fortuitous meeting as both women were CFAs* of many years, their individual instant loves of West Cork many years ago swept them up from London, England, and New York respectively without a backward glance. They were both involved in local theatre and one had opened a bookshop. (Strong connections when I take my next play to Ireland, and maybe a West Cork book launch, who knows?)

In the hind of the conversation they asked what the pair of us were doing. “Brother and sister,”we replied, “strengthening up for The Beara Way hike today,” We ordered another round of cappucinos. “We are celebrating our birthdays this coming Saturday!”

“Ah, twins!” They nodded in glee, “We knew it, you are so alike!”

Well, all fine and dandy that. Except my brother is exactly 10 years younger than me.

I wondered why he wasn't as pleased as I was.

Ah, but revenge is sweet.

My comeuppance was coming.

*ComeFromAway

Something to Look Forward To

Newest Ad from Newfoundland and Labrador Tourism.

My father would say this at the beginning of the year:

To make life worth living, you always have to have something to look forward to in the coming twelve months.

He was right.

Daughter and I had one of our marathon phone sessions today. No, we don't do Skype as that locks you in place. We do Bluetooth. Which means we can move around and cook, clean, knit, let the dog out and some important etceteras.

My birthday came up in conversation and she really wants to plan a vacation trip for it, one with Grandgirl involved. The three of us have travelled a lot together over the years. South Carolina, Mexico, Ireland, etc. So Daughter said there are three choices I think Mum. New York, Iceland or Labrador.

You can guess what I chose (and Daughter agreed). Yeah, Labrador, the Big Land. There are people I know who have taken their vacations for the last 36 years in Newfoundland and Labrador and who have yet to see all of it. Truly.

We're much the same, we think. It is very easy to get sidetracked here. Every bend on the road produces a new vista, another outport to explore and stay a wee while. This year we want to head to L'Anse aux Meadows to the Viking settlement and then hop the ferry to Labrador.

Yeah, something to look forward to. I'm excited already. We 3 generations on the hoof. Again.

RFD*

*RainFogDrizzle




It's my birthday today and you'd think Gaia might take a chance on me and drop a bit of sunshine my way? Not a hope.

The best birthday gift I get every year is another year of this precious life. The next is the Grandgirl who never misses it. She arrived late last night and between the RFD and the moose (we counted four on the roads) it took us till nearly 2 in the morning before we got home.

And this year daughter sent me a birthday gift of a GPS for the car. Something I have coveted for a long time as I have a problem I label geographical dyslexia. I can never tell you what direction I'm facing in unless it's a well known landmark like Lake Ontario and I always knew how to get there from just about any point in Ontario. Here in Newfoundland, St. John's is confusing as it's not laid out like a grid and streets and roads keep changing names just to laugh at me. And though I've learned a pile of these name changes there's still the odd one thrown out of the blue which in turn throws me.

Directionally challenged, that's me. I come by it well. My father hadn't a clue and when we would travel together we would pore over maps pretending we had inbuilt navigational skills, hardy-har. I remember one spectacular night in Quebec City where we (I) drove down cul-de-sacs that were an armslength apart in width and then I would have to reverse back again, confounded and baffled. At around three in the morning, after hours of this maze-like meandering seeking our hotel which neither of us could remember whether it was in Lower Town or Upper Town or even the name of it, Gawd help our simple Irish souls, when the Da looked at me and said, "OK. Next time we will tie a long string to the back of the car and the front of the hotel before we go anywhere." I remember us laughing ourselves silly at the thought, just before finding a gendarme who spoke English and drew a map on a page of his notebook for us.

The Da would have dearly loved my GPS.

Fishnet in the Fog

My birthday was yesterday. And it was wonderful. A far, far different day from the plans I had tried to make and the plans that were then substituted. And quite perfect.

One of the lessons of life for me is that it unwinds itself exactly as it should and that I can't control it. And something I keep reminding myself of is that I have to appreciate what's right in front of my face and not look over and yon and bemoan the "lack of" in my life. I think the photo of the fishnet, taken yesterday in St. Bride's in the fog speaks a lot to me: Of not missing the small pile of beautiful colours lost in the surrounding harbour of boats.

I spent the day with the two people I love most in the world, my daughter and granddaughter.

We decided to defer our trip to the St. Pierre & Miquelon islands and spend the day at one of my favourite spots, Cape St. Mary's, which has hundreds of thousands of seabirds to view once you take a hike out on the stunning high cliffs which are covered with wild flowers.

The gannets were a powerful presence, both birds taking care of their chick whilst performing their extraordinarily sensuous "necking" with each other.

The site had an evening performance as an added bonus. with an Irish flavoured old style variety concert which included story telling and the uileann pipes followed by dessert and coffee.

Some days I treasure in my heart forever. This is one of them.