Day 21

All is well in my tiny bubble. 

Not being an alarmist here BUT. Will the days of Covid ever end? New strains, fresh outbreaks. Once again proving that as predicted, yeah though many, many years ago, we will all be wiped out by a mutating virus. Invisible. Possibly aliens in this undefeatable form wishing for a new planet to populate. Not too far fetched, truly. 

How come we always think of aliens with sort-of human forms? I've always believed they are invisible to the human eye. Another dimension if you will. More powerful and indestructible than we are. Why not in a virus? So there you go. Not that I'm scared. But hey reality? Surely if you give any kind of half think to the way things are the world economy is going to collapse? In so many ways our lives are unsustainable. The planet is destroyed, the wealth and corruption is in the greediest hands.

Sorry if I'm depressing y'all. But as I said reality check. Nothing us wee peons can do about it except find a safe harbour somewhere and grow potatoes and stockpile dried things. If we want to live in this changed universe. And that's another of the Big Questions.

And I  live in a place now classified as safer than New Zealand. But we have massive food security issues. We are dependent on ferries and all the implications of that. Two days away from starvation as one wag put it. Our tomatoes come from California (4,000 miles away) our grapes from Chile (incalculable distance) just a tiny example from our world travelling food chain of supplies.

No I'm not writing this in fear but in a kind of resignation. A double tin foil hat perched on my head, perhaps. But I can't be alone in thinking all of this.

Day 20

 All is well.

Jessica was here today and the woman is a genius at organizing me and cleaning everything spotless. And at the speed of lightening. She cheers me up. And she's taking my recycling - this building does not have recycling which is a awful and I felt bad about tossing literally everything in the garbage after years and years of automatic sorting.

I had started the new knitting pattern and something didn't feel right, I should always pay attention to that - and sure enough, several more inches in and I realized I had made a massive mathematical miscalculation, so tomorrow I will rip everything out and restart with the proper math. I shared my downfall with Niece who said that when we rip everything out and start again, then we know that now it's going to be right. Wise words.

I watched a few episodes of a really fun Irish series called "Finding Joy".  I love how the dog has its own personality (and voice) and opens and closes each episode.

 From the Archives:

Boat at sunset, 2014 (where I used to live).

Day 18

 All is well.

A gift of homemade bread from a fellow tenant - I'm on their regular list of donees. I say they, as her husband does the baking and she delivers to a favoured few in the building. 

I was wondering whether there is a magic age for us oldies to be described as "sharp as a tack". Turning 80, 90? And to not be described as such would mean dripping some marbles? It's like the expectation is for a shedding of same marbles as we cross the hurdle of another decade? I've yet to hear an oldie described as thick as a plank. And surely those outnumber the rare "sharp as a tack" crowd? I'll keep my ears peeled for further research on this matter.

Did you all know about green onions? You buy a bunch once a year for a $1 or so and they last for the year when you put them in a glass of water and top it up once in a while. Just keep clipping and fresh new spears appear. I use a scissors.

Especially for my Australian readers: herewith a picture of the snow outside all piled away tidily and that crystal blue sky.

Day 16

 All is well.

Though I feel I should be doing more.

Which is always the way I feel, and I need to embrace "enough" every day.

It's enough for now to be self-caring with food and staying in the moment and knowing at my core that over extending myself is not on. Which includes energy thrown at others. Until I find my feet I just need to be vigilant and more aware.

I have often wondered why many of us choose to wear such uncomfortable clothes. Like made of nylon and polyester and push up bras with wires and really tight sweaty underwear and being told to avoid pantilines as if they're a crime against humanity. And high heels, when you sit back and look at that torture device. I mean men don't teeter around on them do they? They are dangerous. I've seen the long term effects on women's feet which are horrific but still many women still  encase themselves in spanx holding in stomachs and hardly breathing while tottering around on stilettoes. I've often thought it would be great to have a denim wedding, for instance. Everybody in their most comfortable jeans and sweats. I suppose a trillion dollar industry would collapse overnight.

I was reading about old age being a corridor with all these doors leading to different activities/places/events in our lives and we wind up with most of the doors closed forever. Only a few left. I found it quite profound. 

Day 15

 All is well. I kicked another addiction along this route too. Diet pop(soda). I had this thing for diet lemonade. The sparkling kind. It was down to Daughter hauling in 12 large bottles at a time here. I took a serious look at this. I was always afraid of running out of the stuff. First sign of trouble. 

I didn't mention this before, but I'm fairly impressed with this. Kicking these habits to the curb is beneficial to me. I feel it in my body and my outlook. I'm the one who never bought cigarettes by the pack. I always had 3 cartons on the go, one in the office, one in my home, one in car. I never ran out. And that was kicked 33 years ago now. Stockpiler, that's me.

Not bragging at all. I don't take it for granted. Slippage can happen.

I was looking at these little guys on my windowsill today. Little memories of trips to beaches and up north.

I just finished this book. It's about an 85 year old protagonist. A really good, fairly light read.

I also binge watched the series "Mum". A delight from start to finish.

Day 14

 A "bad turn" this morning where I felt very discombobulated followed by a silent migraine. I've had those things for years, flashing lights, but no pain. I feel very fortunate. The pain would slay me.

Grandgirl texted to make sure I had stocked up enough food as she had been reading about the storm here.

Talk of role reversal.

Visitor of the day was young interesting electrician outside of the usual grumpy non-communicative maintenance workers. He installed a new fire alarm and then sorted out a baffling long non-working socket which wasn't working but it was actually controlled by a distant switch on the wall to light the lamps on the side tables. Very impressive. Never did have one of those.

The threatening sky was a glowering gray this morning and now over 12 hours later, it's still coming down, though the wind has been fierce beating it on the walls and trees outside. Snow plow has been around at least 6 times. 

No pictures today, it is late and all is well.

Day 13

 I had some fresh cod for dinner. It was magnificent. It had been a long time. It was paid for too by a friend who gave me a gift card. 

I prepared for the storm with food for about two weeks ordered on line and delivered to my trunk today.

My books were ready at the library and my stash teeters charmingly.

I was tempted to cafe-sit but thought better of it. Not that I would fall on the goodies on offer, but my trip with three pickups outdoors was enough. Enough has always been a strange word to me. More is my mantra. And I was feeling good which is a danger signal. So I came directly home. 

I'm thrilled I'm 13 days in. Thanks for all the support coming my way.

Day 12

 

All is well, though I am incredibly cranky. There's a huge storm forecast for Thursday so I have to plough outwards tomorrow and stock up on the essentials to get me through. I placed the grocery order for curbside pickup and was thrilled to see more books ready at the library for me to pickup. I have loads of books now which always makes me feel secure, more than food does.

It takes 21 days to change a habit. I remember learning this when I quite smoking. 21 days, they said, and physical cravings diminish, that's a promise. And they were right. Psychological takes a bit longer. I remember still looking for a cigarette when phones rang a year later. And I couldn't sit down and chat after dinner for a while but had to go out for a walk. So 9 more days and cravings for sugary sweeties and little pastries and choccie bickies and ice cream won't be as intense and I won't be so restless.

I was pondering on self-service which technically is no service. Like how we clean up after ourselves in cafes, and pump our own gas, and use the bank machines, and are encouraged to perform our own checkouts at supermarkets. Social interaction pared back to zero in such cases. Corporations yielding higher and higher profits. Unpaid labour for the rest of us. And I wonder where it all ends. Does it end? I am lucky that all my medications get delivered and my groceries are selected and loaded into my car. I never take such things for granted.

But as I say, all is well, and I feel even "weller" having written this and realizing how truly lucky I am. And I only blasted off one politician today. 

Day 11

 I hope I'm not a crashing bore with these posts. But I have to say they are keeping me honest in my "clean" eating. 

And with the hot tea bolstering me and some smashing old series on BritBox and a brilliant new book and the spot of knitting I'm doing okay today. And you know why? Well,  partially anyway. I reached out to a dear friend who's not doing so hot and he can't get further treatment because of Covid being rampant in his area. And he's normally a cheerful man, positive and balanced and now he's wretched with bowel and breathing issues. And what can one do? I'm not a thoughts and prayers person, just assured him I was holding him in light and love and I've had a candle going all day to remind me.

And others are not doing so well either. Maybe it's in the moon or something. We've all had it up to here.

End of day was some refreshing news in that a niece had a baby boy a few hours ago. Why do we say baby girl and baby boy anyway? It's not like we can give birth to an adult or a teenager. 

And this was sent by Grandgirl in this new craze of sea shanties on TikTok.

But it's brilliant and I've played it, oh, maybe 10 times today.

Day 6

So far so good - ain't hot tea the best tho? Kills the cravings. Already my BP is down a bit and so's my blood sugar. And my outlook is so much better.

The girls are cheerful today smiling out at the semi-sunny day. Yet no snow. We threw it elsewhere around the planet.

If anyone can tell me what this baby is I'd be delighted. Daughter bought it for me. I've never seen anything like it.

Elsewhere, Bell Aliant kept me on the phone a whole hour today as I tried to sort out what they've done to my internet service which has deteriorated in the last few weeks not allowing much of an upload which prevents me from participating in Zoom meetings. Nothing was resolved. Every time I get on the phone with them I feel they are BSing me. And they get quite confrontational insisting it is somehow my fault, and referring to a non-existent contract specifying low upload speed. Yeah, sure, I signed up for dismal service. So finally they agreed to a technician - physically - coming here this afternoon to "fix" it. I know what they've done, the baron thieves, they are completely over-subscribed and the pandemic and working at home has throttled the system. And I do track where my service is coming from which varies across townships around the province. Highly unstable.

And why on earth doesn't blogger have spellcheck anymore? Another "improvement"?

You'd think I was a long stream of misery after this post, but no, I'm quite happy. Another day in the life of......

Day 4

....And all going well.


Thoughts:

I find this fascinating in a family:

Brothers talk to brothers differently than they do to their sisters, (less emotionally).

Sisters talk to sisters differently than they do to brothers (more emotionally).

And brothers when engaging with sisters and vice versa talk differently (tap into their own emotions).

Why is that I wonder? I do think men miss out on so much of their inner lives.

I'm not talking all men as I have both men friends and male cousins who are very open with their emotions and our conversations are rich as a result of this.

Old Chestnuts:
(1)If one grows one's hair long it saps all the strength from one's body. Is there any truth to this?

(2)My father would say "Cop yourself on" if you were heading in a downward direction. I like it. I put it on my mini-blackboard as a monthly message but I added FFS for good measure. It keeps me mindful of staying on track.

So my iris turned out to be crocus and she had another two sisters this morning.

I just love these cheeky tiny things. I'm like a mother hen.