Easy as ABC

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This post idea comes to you directly from Holly at Bloggity Ramblings, stolen from a number of sources, by the looks of things. Thanks Holly et al!

It’s a list!  It’s the ABC’s!  It’s all about MEEEEEE!!!!!!  My kind of thing for sure since I feel I’m an expert on the subject.  Feel free to copy the alphabet prompts and share yourself with your tribe.

A: Age – 66 and counting.  Next birthday is Friday the 13th in May.  My grandma started warning us at the age of 75 during every Christmas we were trying to celebrate that it could be her last.  I’m going to keep up this tradition starting soon.  She lived to be 99.

B: Biggest Fear – Deep water and being unable to breathe.  So drowning, in other words.  In a previous life I either did not survive the sinking of the Titanic, or I fell asleep in the bathtub.

C: Current Time – Well past noon.  I vow to finish this before the day ends.

D: Drink I Last Had – Coffee.  But before that I drank a big Starbucks tumbler of  Crystal Light (acai white peach papaya flavour) laced with a couple of tablespoons of apple cider vinegar, because it’s supposed to be good for many things, including lowering blood sugar.  I’m not recommending this concoction to anyone, because frankly it tastes even worse than incredibly bad wine.  Therefore it must be healthy and good for you of course, since all bad tasting things are.

E: Easiest Person to Talk to – My sister Ann.  I could tell her how happy I am to know that before we were born our souls chose to be sisters in this lifetime and she would not say I’m crazy.  Well, not out loud and to my face, anyway.

F: Favorite Song – Happy Birthday to you…..I know all the words and most of the tune.

G: Grossest Memory – It’s not all that gross, but it is funny.  My son wanted to have a collection of something and decided to save his toenail clippings.  Unlimited source and not a lot of thought or effort involved.  His passion for this hobby was thankfully short-lived.

H: Hometown – Port Elgin, Ontario, Canada, although I grew up on a nearby farm.

I: In Love With – Life.

J: Jealous Of – People who have more money than brains.  Although not so much the no brains part of that one.

K: Killed Someone?  Not yet.  Hopefully never.  Have watched a lot of murder mysteries and am not confident I could get away with it.

L: Longest Relationship –  Met W in March 1970 and married him in November 1971.  So that’s 46 years of wondering what the hell he’s going to do next.

M: Middle Name – Mae.  There’s a few of those in my family history.  It’s a good name.

N: Number of Siblings – three – one older brother, two younger sisters.

O: One Wish – Good health.  And if I can’t have that, acceptance of whatever life hands me, with grace and dignity.  Because foot stomping and howling is probably not the most attractive way to deal with shit.

P: Last Person You Called – Seriously it was probably a doctor’s office.

Q: Question You Are Always Asked – What the hell is wrong with you??  Haha…just kidding.  Is that your natural hair colour?  Because it is pretty much grey/white but with very dark hair at the back of my neck and my forehead.  Like anyone would do that on purpose.

R: Reason to Smile – I’m retired!  I could paint all day if I felt like it!

S: Song You Last Sang – Hotel California, but only in my head while trying to get to sleep.

T: Time You Woke Up – Yes, yes it is.

U: Underwear Colour – mostly black.  In fact almost everything I wear is black in my unsuccessful quest to become invisible.

V: Vacation Destination – I love to go home to Ontario to visit family.

W: Worst Habit – procrastination.

X: X-Rays You’ve Had – lower back, chest, teeth/jaw.  Then it’s on to MRI’s and CT Scans.  There are some doctors who know me inside out.

Y: Your Favorite Food – Salted peanuts.  It’s the first thing that popped in to my head.  We don’t have any in the house at the moment.  Damn.

Z: Zodiac Sign – Taurus.  Sign of the procrastinating peanut lover.

Okay, it’s your turn!

Sharing My World 46

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Daughters drawing saved by my mother for so many years that it’s probably a priceless work of art by now. BTW, everyone would look better with a neck moustache and arms growing out of their ears.

SHARE YOUR WORLD – 2016 WEEK 3

What is your favorite piece of art? (it doesn’t have to be famous)

Well that’s like trying to pick your favourite blade of grass on the lawn.  Impossible for me to choose even a category.  I do have a great love for children’s art though, especially when they explain it all to you, or even when they can’t explain any of it.  Maybe my favourite piece of art will eventually be on that big old canvas that’s been sitting here staring at me blankly for several days. There’s not much art I don’t like, unless it is a depiction of something gruesome.

What made you smile today?

Being put through a check out by a purple haired cashier.  I suspect she coloured her hair herself (or had a friend do it) because random bits of her ears and neck were also purple.  What can you do, except show up for work anyway and carry on.  Purple ears won’t last forever, right?   She reminded me of my granddaughters who also do startling things with their hair.  It makes me smile to see them experimenting with who they are or who they wish to be.  All of them are bold and beautiful.

Which place do you recommend as a Must-See? Please state which country, state or province.

Really I haven’t been to enough places myself to do that with any kind of credibility.  I do think people miss out on seeing their own country from a tourists point of view when they prefer to rush off across the ocean or the equator in search of something better.  I’ve seen all three of Canada’s oceans – Pacific, Arctic and Atlantic!  Notice how far inland I am living from every one of them.  Travel destinations are a personal thing.  I loved the rolling green hills in Scotland but suspect some people might find them boring.  Imagine that.  Weirdos.

Complete this sentence: When I was younger I used to….

…..love it when cousins came to visit us on the farm, mainly because we got out of all kinds of work so we could entertain them. I was always surprised by their avid interest in such things as tractors and cows. And barn cats and pond frogs.  These were ordinary every day things to me but new and interesting to them.  It gave me a whole new perspective, seeing things I took for granted through someone else’s eyes.

Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

In my ongoing seemingly never-ending pursuit of something suitably warm to put on my freezing feet I think I’ve finally made a breakthrough.  Men’s thermal socks.  If your feet are cold in those things you are probably dead.  Now I just have to be careful I don’t slide across the kitchen floor in them and break my neck.

That canvas is STILL hanging around and still blank.  I am looking forward to getting all artsy with it this week.  Anybody want a painting of my thermal socks?  Alrighty then!  I will try to come up with something better.

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Coffee and Other Funny Things

We are running low on the Tassimo coffees I like so I am slowly using up the random pods I can’t remember buying and which they probably don’t even make anymore.  That’s how old they are.  Today I am enjoying a cup of Gevalia Caramel Espresso to which I have added extra water, French vanilla sugar-reduced cream and a dash of Truvia.  It tastes like pancake syrup.

And if you don’t think that’s funny, wait until you see what else my caffeinated brain has found for you.

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Happy Sunday.

Words From Somewhere

A long time ago I read this passage in a novel.  Then I read it again.  Have you ever come across someone else’s simple little story and been deeply affected by it or felt so connected to the feelings portrayed that the whole thing could just as easily be your own?

I marked the page these words were on and kept coming back to them. Then I typed the passage and printed it and put it in my keepsakes box.  Every time I come across it I read it again and marvel at how much I like it and then I return it to the box.

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After all this time I don’t know who wrote it or what book it came out of. If you recognize it I will happily share the source.

Funny how a random little snippet from a fictional life seemed like something worth saving, and how it never loses its charm for me.

And that’s my Saturday blurb of randomness for this week!  Hope you’re having a great weekend.

Edited to add- it is from The Pull of the Moon by Elizabeth Berg….thanks oregana

Photo Shop 1960’s Version

imageEasy Step by Step Instructions

  1.  Enter a contest in which the prize is a trophy, and win first place.  (In this case it was a mandatory grade eight public speaking contest.  We picked a topic from a list, wrote a speech, memorized it and delivered it in front of an audience consisting of peers, judges, siblings, parents, teachers, unsuspecting friends and neighbours and people who wandered in from the street by mistake.)
  2. Bring the trophy home and pester members of your family until someone finally agrees to take a picture of you holding it, preferably on your front lawn with the engraved bit showing your name facing forward and yourself squinting into the sun.
  3. When the film is developed, be so dismayed by how the shadows make your face look like that of an angry gorilla that you feel like crying and burning it to destroy the evidence.  Wonder if you might actually look like that in real life.
  4. Decide that although in this photo you definitely look like hell you are still proud of your achievement and are not likely to have any other pictures of it to preserve for posterity.  Carefully tear the head off, although not carefully enough to save the cup and handles portion of the trophy.  Rip it up anyway and throw it away.
  5. Mount touched up photo in album and label it “Headless Public Speaking Contest Winner 1962”.

You might also want to prepare yourself for the following conversation.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a picture of the trophy I won for public speaking in grade eight.”

“What happened to your head?”

“Shut up.”

Rain Stories

Rain was a popular subject for primary school children learning to read in the early 1900’s.  I am basing this assumption on these stories from the Ontario Readers Primer, authorized by THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION (that part was important enough in the book to print in all caps bold) published in 1920.

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How lucky am I to possess books that are almost a hundred years old? Even if the stories are blatantly sexist.  Wimpy little girl afraid of the rain vs. bold adventurous little boy having fun.

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In this case the smart males all seek shelter and the silly female goose doesn’t. Girls just can’t win.
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Isn’t that delightful? The pages are well-read, faded and stained, the cover is worn and falling apart and the binding disintegrating and barely holding everything together. It’s one of the things my mother felt was worth saving, and it is one of my treasures.

Room Temperature

 

imageHaha!  That’s my feet sticking out from underneath a throw.  If you’re thinking I’ve run out of mesmerizing topics 13 days in to this January blog-a-day thing I’ve got going on, you might be right.

But I was sitting here in my 19 degree C house admiring my new fuzzy-on-the-inside socks when it occurred to me that they are worth sharing with the world.  Hey, it’s late and I’m tired, and I’ve had one of those days.  So you get sock sharing.

Early this afternoon I went for a follow-up appointment at the ENT Clinic at the University Hospital to discuss the results of the ultrasounds and needle biopsies on my neck.

The waiting room was crowded and hot and I had my winter coat over my arm for almost an hour.  My chair was right beside the reception desk so I got to hear many one-sided phone conversations from there and from rude people on cell phones, plus people talking and a hanging television screen had the sound on.  I’m always afraid in these situations that I won’t hear my name being called.  Then I imagined what it might be like to have a hearing aid and have all these sounds amplified.  Hell, more or less.

The thermostat in the exam room read 24.8 when I got in there.  Then it went up to 24.9.  When it reached 25 I imagined what it might be like to spontaneously combust.  At 25.1 I considered stripping and lying bare skinned on the floor tiles.  It was 25.3 when I left.  Gawd only knows what it’s at now.

I’ve been seeing Dr. Rizk.  And yes, it rhymes with risk.  Once again everything has come back with all kinds of horrible things ruled out, so we know what it isn’t, but nobody knows for sure what it IS.  Or what these lumps might develop into given time.  So my options are to keep showing up for tests and check ups ad infinitum or to have them surgically removed and be done with them.  He told me to go home and think about it.

I also got a flu shot today.  And some toiletries and these amazing slipper socks.  Never before in my life have I had a problem with my feet getting cold.  I’m that person who sleeps with her feet out from under the covers.  I have put bare feet in snow boots and not complained of the cold.  But lately things have changed.  Poor circulation maybe?  Every so often my feet will suddenly be freezing cold and I have to kick off my flip-flops and scrounge around for socks.

These new ones are perfect.  And yeah, gorgeous too. We turned the heat up to 20.  Because it’s winter and we are old. And possibly because W has complained once too often about being cold and I have suddenly developed some empathy on that subject.

And THEN (will this day and the recounting of it never end….) I looked up “room temperature” although what I really meant was ambient temperature and was astounded to discover Wikipedia says its 75 F or 24 C.  I am speechless.  How can anyone stand it that hot?

Okay, your turn. Tell me I’m cold-blooded and strange.  Or is it just where you live and what you’re used to and comfortable with that determines personal ambient temperature?

I’m going to bed now and these socks are coming off.  My feet feel like they’ve been in an oven.

A Finished Book

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Look at me, all done reading a book!  And not knowing how to explain why it’s been so long since the last time I did that.

I remember reading Kate Morton’s other books…

  • The House at Riverton
  • The Secret Keeper
  • The Forgotten Garden
  • The Distant Hours

…so I didn’t think it would be a stretch to like The Lake House.  And I did like it.  I just didn’t love it.  There was way too much messing about getting to the point.  And far too many coincidences and characters and back stories and sub plots and descriptions and hopping around in time.  Just too many words.  I guess that’s why I could never write an entire novel, lacking the patience to expand everything to death without giving the ending away in the first chapter.

A child disappears and it takes seventy years to solve the mystery of what happened to him.  People with secrets!  You just want to give them a shake.  How’s that for a book review?

If the reading of this book hadn’t started well before Christmas and proceeded in fits and starts up until this afternoon I suppose I might have found it shorter.  Mostly I read in bed when I was already tired and rarely came across anything riveting enough to keep me awake.  Not even half way through I found myself no longer caring what really happened or why, but FINALLY the end arrived and it all came together in the neatest little package ever, tied with a bow.  I don’t know why that felt trite and disappointing, but it did.  Just too darned neat and tidy and resolved.

Anyway, it’s a story and it’s been told.  If you like Kate Morton you will enjoy this.  But I don’t think you will be blown away.