Canada is Cool

How cool is it?

It’s SO cool the following things have been reported on social media:

– Some guy was seen cleaning the snow off his windshield with a hockey stick.

– Some other guy was seen shovelling snow off his sidewalk with a lawn chair.

No fried brains here. Just frozen ones.

In other cold related news, the Calgary Zoo had to cancel their penguin walk yesterday, because king penguins get stressed out in extreme temperatures. Well, don’t we all.

The sun was shining at our house today, but the air is bitterly cold. Like -35 to -40 C depending on where you are and how much wind there is and what snowbank you’re trying to get your vehicle out of. This is when the snow gets crunchy and squeaky and hard as rock if you let it get packed.

Better temperatures are on the way though, so we can slowly thaw out next week.

We are almost at the halfway mark for January!

Look how happy I am about that.

Hockeyeur

W has been following the 2020 World Junior Hockey tournament since it began in December, but had a movie playing on tv this afternoon instead of tuning in to the Canada vs Russia gold medal game. I asked him why. He said “I can’t watch it.”

I know the feeling. Too stressful even if the outcome hardly affects you personally.

I was totally prepared to celebrate a silver medal victory, especially since Russia had already trounced Canada 6-0 in their first game. Didn’t look good when they were down 3-0 starting the 3rd period. But Canada came back to win it 4-3. So now we can all scream and yell and hoot and holler and generally freak out about how amazing Canada is at hockey. Which we would still have been with a silver medal, but nobody goes batshit crazy over second place. Congrats to the Russian players anyway. They certainly deserved to be there.

Isn’t hockeyeur a great word? It came up on my predictive text. No idea why my predictive thinks I might suddenly decide to express myself in a different language. English is a big enough challenge. The word means hockey player.

hockeyeur (nom) féminin hockeyeuse

Joueur de hockey sur gazon ou sur glace, un sport qui consiste à faireentrer un palet dans un but avec une crosse.

(Player of hockey on field or ice, game consists of shooting a puck/ball into a net with a stick).  Makes the sport sound rather dull.

Anyway, lovely for Canadians to get some happy news and something to cheer about. There’s been a bit of a drought for that kind of thing lately, knowing crazy things happening in the world will no doubt have global consequences and repercussions. We are all part of the globe.

How do you like cartoon (Bitmoji) me up there? Like I might actually be able to skate fast enough to shoot ice into the atmosphere when coming to an abrupt stop. And not wearing a helmet! And smiling while wearing skates! Quite the fantasy. But cute. Cuteness is a big plus.

 

Fridge Art

You are never too old to adorn your grandma’s fridge with priceless art.

Not sure what’s up with that horse in a dust storm. I didn’t ask.

Whoever Carla is, poor girl needs some serious dental work.

I love the creations done by keeping your pencil on the paper until your main picture is complete.

And Madison doesn’t look like that at all in real life. Unless there’s some secret transformation I’m missing.

This is my new fridge, by the way. Never had a door handle this long before. Lots more area to wipe for sticky finger and hand prints. First time I’ve had a bottom freezer too. So far, big thumbs up.

Another January Day

I know what our next door neighbour did yesterday – pranced around on his front lawn in a t-shirt.  Okay, he wasn’t actually prancing.  More like zipping out to his car for something and then taking his sweet time going back inside because it was relatively sunny and warm here on the first day of the new year.  And by warm I mean around the freezing mark.

Sorry that’s all I’ve got on him.  Just happened to see him briefly from my front window and have no idea how he spent the rest of his day.  Here in the late afternoon we were feasting on an awesome vegetarian lasagna made by my son.  We didn’t have the whole gang because life and work and other priorities take people in different directions.  I’m always happy to see whoever drops in.  Especially when they bring food.

This morning the wind woke me up early and has been blustering away all day, blowing snow off the roof tops and the trees and depositing it in our driveway.  No t-shirts noted anywhere on the block.  Colder weather is forecast for next week.  I wish we could send some of it (minus the wind) to Australia.  Along with a ton of rain.  I fear the devastating disasters in store for all of us if we don’t take the climate crisis seriously.

But I won’t get myself started on that tonight.  I’ll tell you what I’m happy about instead.

– all the Christmas leftovers are gone

– except for some fudge and butter tarts, and W is taking care of those

– all the decorations are boxed up and put away

– except for the outdoor lights, but W is taking care of those too, probably by February at the very latest

– we have had our youngest three grandchildren around sporadically for almost two weeks.  We find them interesting and they find us boring, and that’s how these relationships usually work with the very young and the very old.  I suppose we could try to be less boring.  There’s a thought.

– I love quiet evenings inside where it’s warm, a hot drink before bed, reading until the kindle falls out of my hand and I can’t keep my eyes open.  Simple pleasures.  I’ve already said boring, no reason to repeat it.

This month always seems to go relentlessly on and on until you swear it’s never going to end.  Sort of like a pregnancy in the ninth month.  My doctor told me she’d never heard of a pregnancy that didn’t terminate (how reassuring) and I guess that applies to Januaries as well.

Two days down, eleventy seven to go.

Yes I Did Make a Lemon Pig

I saw Lemon Pig( #LemonPig )trending on Twitter.  People claim it’s supposed to bring you good luck in the new year.

So I had this old lemon in the fridge, and toothpicks and a quarter.  Just all sort of fell into place.  Although the tinfoil tail was a challenge.

I guess now we wait.

Trying to decide if this is the most excitement I’ve had on New Years Eve in my life.

Two out of three monkeys are not impressed.

Looking Back and Going Forward

Sometimes I talk like I’m ancient and on deaths door. When I’m gone, before I die, life is short, time to downsize so my kids aren’t left with this colossal mess….stuff like that.  Pretty sure it’s annoying, and not a particularly healthy state of mind to be in for long stretches of time.  Especially considering I’m seventy, not a hundred and ten.

It no doubt comes from a lifetime of worrying about every possible disastrous outcome to even ordinary situations and scenarios.  Unusual ones just raise my anxiety level further.   I like to be ridiculously prepared for everything.  Not a fan of surprises, even if they’re pleasant.  I truly try to live in the moment, breathe deeply, let things go, calm my mind, count my blessings, be grateful for everything I have.  Most of the time I’m really good at that.

But I’m always working on limiting those doom and gloom moments.  One of the biggest reasons for neglecting my writing so much in the last three years or so – people died.  Every time I felt like sitting down to say some profound thing or other, someone much too young to leave this world did just that.  And I was struck dumb and numb, contemplating my own mortality and how fragile we all are, no matter where we are in our lives.  My wonderful father-in-law died in October.  He was 97.  We had a lovely visit with him a couple of weeks prior, and to me it felt like he was just kind of done with it all. Not sad or unhappy, just tired.  So his passing wasn’t unexpected.  Sad of course and he is missed, but I think he had a good life all in all.  It’s the untimely ones that leave me stunned.  They’re the tragedies.  And OMG you just never know!

See how easy that is?  We could all die tomorrow!

Also I have a lot of time on my hands to read the news.  I don’t recommend it actually.  A huge percentage of it is bad and less than truthful.  Misleading and hateful rhetoric is all the rage.  It’s hard not to get sucked in by it all.  But I’m not a fighter.  Passive aggressive for sure, but not a screamer fixing to bash your brains in.  Love and kindness always win in the end, don’t they?  We’re all doomed to hell if they don’t.

And that’s my pep talk for today!  Hope you found it enlightening.  Not totally surprised if you didn’t.  Be kind either way.

Sharing My World 85

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Share Your World 12/23/19

I’m way out of the loop on this world sharing thing, but I’ve missed it a lot.  So here goes my Christmas sharing, a week after we’re all sick to death of the holiday and just want the house to magically return to normal.

Have you ever had to work on Christmas Day?

Every woman I know works her butt off before, during and after the day of, and likely the month before that. We work so hard we lose our sense of proper grammar, among other things.  So yes, I have had to work on Christmas Day, but never out of my home at a paying job that I can remember.  That would be like taking the day off I think.

If someone gifts you something that you immediately loathe, do you pretend to really like it anyway or are you brutally honest about your opinion?

Trying to imagine immediately loathing something.  A snake perhaps?  That would be a loathsome thing to receive.  And might prompt me to be brutally honest for once in my life.  Mostly I’m so touched by the gesture I don’t even care what it is.  If it’s really out to lunch I would rather not pretend it isn’t, but just profusely thank the gift giver for thinking of me.  And maybe silently ponder what the heck goes on in their heads.  Smiling the whole time of course.  Because gifts.  Everybody loves gifts.

This year we were spoiled beyond belief with a new iPad for me and a laptop for W.  We were eventually going to get around to making those purchases ourselves, but we just bought a new fridge, and we need our dishwasher replaced, and you know, priorities.  It was the best surprise EVER and I’m still over the moon.  That should be good for the next 20 years worth of gifts from our kids.   I’m serious.  Spoiled rotten.  It feels really good.

Which popular drink, found during the Christmas season most often, is called “milk punch?”

Oh, gah, must be egg nog.  Now there’s something disgustingly loathe-worthy.  I don’t care what you do to it, it’s still raw eggs.  I get a little gaggy just thinking about it.

How many ghosts show up during “A Christmas Carol?” 

Who started making these questions so hard?  Was it three?  Present, past and future?  Was there another one in there that I’ve missed?  Do I fail this one?  When in doubt, just answer a question with five more questions.  And then change the subject.

Are you all about the holly and jolly or more about remembering the alleged ‘true’ meaning of Christmas?    

Our Christmases have evolved over the years, that’s for sure.  I grew up going to church and singing all the carols and playing parts in the nativity scene.  I was a shepherd once, that was the worst costume ever.  But there was also always Santa and presents and decorations and food.  The Christian part of the holiday has been relegated to the background, but really, isn’t it all about caring and sharing, love and goodwill and kindness and fun?   I think we do that around here pretty well.

Please share a memory or thought about the holiday season if you’d like, whatever kind of celebration you may observe. 

That stuff I said in the beginning about Christmas being so much work?  It’s not that bad really.  I’m just old and cranky when I get tired.  Every year I get so much help I really have no reason to complain. You can make it as simple or as crazy as you want.  I sent out hardly any cards this time around, and bought NO wrapping paper at all. I find people are very unlikely to open up an envelope containing cash and immediately loathe it. There are five teenagers now and grandma and grandpa are not going to risk buying anything for them that they have to pretend to like.  Because that would definitely happen.

I’m quite enjoying our more adult Christmases.  Less fighting and crying and running around yelling is always nice.  I was going to say I miss having little ones for the holidays but I think I just talked myself right out of that one.  Whew.

Now I cant wait to take the tree down.  I’m done.  Over and out.  Love to all.

 

So Where the Hell Have You Been?

There, now you don’t have to ask me that question. I appear to have stopped blogging for over a year (because unfinished unpublished posts in the drafts section don’t count) and boy do I ever have a years worth of excuses!  Want to hear them all?  No, I didn’t think so.

I’ve been right here this whole time, taking a long break from listening to myself, making actual real useful stuff with my hands instead of my head, and resting my brain.

I have made hats and mats and blankets and slippers and shawls.  Dolls and bears and zebras and giraffes.  I’ve made so much stuff it’s getting harder all the time to find anyone willing to take my latest greatest project home with them.  But I’m not finished and will keep going for as long as I’m able and for as long as Michaels has yarn sales.  I had forgotten how much I love to crochet, just like I’ve forgotten for a bit how much I love to write.

The memories that pop up on Facebook for me are getting downright scary.  Nine years ago my two oldest grandkids were nine years old.  Now they’re eighteen;  and the fifteen, fourteen and thirteen year olds are right behind them, with a grandma getting progressively more ancient by the minute.

Time for me to tell more stories while I can still remember things.  Maybe these beautiful young people I’m so happy to have in my life will one day have questions I’m not around to answer.  I mean seriously, look how fast one year, never mind nine years, whizzes right on by.  Maybe I have another nine in me, but you never know.

My grandma started saying “Well, this could be my last Christmas!” when she was in her seventies, and kept it up for almost 30 years.  I’d like to be that lucky.  Plus, the older I get, the greater the possibility of uttering totally bizarre shit that will make my descendants laugh and roll their eyes and wonder if that’s how they’re going to end up.  I like that feeling of power.

 

 

Sharing My World 84

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Share Your World II 11-26-18

If your five year old self woke up in your current body, what would happen, what would you say?

I would probably look at my hands and think, wow, I have Grandma skin! Five year olds don’t normally look in a mirror unless they are carefully applying bright red lipstick in a circle from forehead to cheeks to chin just before leaving for church. Then I would be super excited that I could reach things without standing on tip toes. And finally I would find my mom and say “Hey! Look at me! NOW am I big enough to go to school?”

What is a relationship deal breaker for you? Whether you are talking about a romantic one, a friendship or a related to sort of relationship?

This might seem like an odd answer coming from someone who thinks she can tell very credible lies, but I don’t want to be lied to. Or taken advantage of. Or told to quit ending sentences with prepositions. I lie only if it keeps me out of trouble and doesn’t hurt or incriminate anyone else. So that’s a discriminating kind of fib teller I guess. As if there are degrees of wrongness about not telling the truth. Maybe I’m lied to all the time and have no clue, but if I see through a lie I’m doubly offended that someone thinks I’m dumb enough to believe them.

Is there something out there, a thought, an idea, a current event, or a fear that you find deeply unsettling?

Global warming and what sort of horrible world we’re leaving for our grandchildren. Consumerism could kill us all. We can blame the big environment destroyers all we like, but we are the idiots demanding the crap they produce.

And one that is a bit whimsical:

If you were arrested with no explanation, what would your friends and family assume you had done?

Having spent a large portion of my life trying to convince myself that what other people think is not my problem, not important, and none of my business, I am at a complete loss to answer this. So I asked W the question. Surprisingly he was pretty prompt coming up with an answer. He would assume some secret from my past had finally come to light. He used the word “clandestine”. He told me when I say I’m going to Michael’s for yarn, I could be doing something else entirely. How clever he must think I am to come back home in an hour or less with a Michael’s bag full of yarn to cover my tracks. Woman of mystery. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone or even lived with them, they can still surprise you. In our case, I guess that works both ways.

Finally

What were you grateful for this week? Something that brought some joy into your world?

My new keyboard for my IPad! Although my fat forgetful fingers are getting better, there has been a lot of fumbling and stumbling and wearing out of the delete button while I get back to what I think of as normal typing with all ten fingers. Its already getting better. Maybe blogging will start to feel like less of a pain again. You lucky blog readers.

The other thing giving me joy is crocheting. Like everything else, I go on binges. First it was slippers, then rugs that look like braided, and now suddenly it’s hats because I found a pattern. And bought a Pom-pom maker on one of my fake trips to the store. Life is good. And for all you know, I’m not talking about my secret one when I say that.

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List Legacy

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W has a t-shirt that says “I Drink and I Know Things”.  It was gifted to him by a friend who knows him very well.  If I had a shirt like that it would say “I Clean and I Find Things”. Not all that funny, but accurate as hell.  Mostly what I find are forgotten lists of things I’ve jotted down so I won’t forget them.  Totally useless endeavour when the list goes missing, and confusing as all get out when one turns up and makes very little sense to me in the here and now.

When I decide to clean, even if it’s something as simple as using the Swiffer duster on a shelf that the morning sun hits, illuminating a grey film that was invisible the night before and making me wonder how we can actually breathe in here,  I end up rearranging things.  Could be just items on a shelf, or could be all the furniture in a room. You just never know.

Twice this week I have moved stuff around in my bedroom, trying to accommodate a big old chair that’s worn out and uncomfortable and takes up too much space in the living room.  It’s next move may be out the front door.  The second time around for the rearranging involved moving the desk back to where it was in the first place (big sigh accompanied by eye roll) and going through its pile of miscellaneous papers which seems to accumulate even faster than the dust.

And I found a list.  Yes, I know, no one at this point is surprised.  It’s in a little black note-book which also contains some account numbers and passwords that are no longer valid because I’ve changed them.  This is exactly the kind of thing you don’t want to leave behind after you die, unless there are people you need to seriously annoy posthumously.  I have also written down my cell phone number because I have never bothered to memorize the damned thing.  It’s easy enough to find on my phone, so why did I bother doing that?  One mystery after another, right?

The list appears to be things you can do at our camp.  Or at anyone’s cottage I guess.

  • Wake up early 
  • Drink your coffee on the deck
  • Watch the early morning mist burn off the water
  • Go for a boat ride
  • Paddle a canoe
  • Go barefoot
  • Dance in the rain
  • Explore
  • Take pictures
  • Watch the birds
  • Play horseshoes
  • Make an inukshuk
  • Build a bonfire
  • Roast marshmallows
  • Watch the sunset
  • Always carry a wine glass of sufficient size to knock a bear unconscious 

That last one was SO worth waiting for.  It’s not mine, but I don’t know who to credit for it.  Someone brilliant, obviously.  I would add to that one to always keep the glass topped up so you can throw wine in the bears eyes and temporarily blind him before you turn around and run like hell.

That was more fun than finding an old grocery list or a paper from a page-a-day calendar, although I found both of those as well.  The calendar page says

Dont die green.  Die crisp and toasty brown, well lived and well loved.

Kinda sounds like bear food, but whatever.  May we all live long enough to get crispy.

Happy Sunday!