Sharing My World 73

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This night nurse pic is what came up when I went to Google and typed in marvel comics followed by my name. Best. Result. Ever. Facebook told me to do it. Now I’m telling you. Listen to the freaky night nurse.

Share Your World – July 24, 2017

List some of your favorites types of teas.

The idea of tea is lovely.  Tea and scones, lemon tea, tea time, cozy tea room, take a tea break, iced tea on a hot day, curl up with a good book and a hot cup of tea.  But to actually brew a pot of the vile stuff and drink it, eww, yuk.  There’s something metallic or acidic about it that I don’t like.  It’s okay to scent candles with or to make shampoo smell nice.  Otherwise I avoid it.

If you had to describe your day as a traffic sign, what would it be?

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This one looks like a normal day for me. It basically means “do you have any idea where the hell you’re going?”

What are a couple of things people could do for you on a really bad day that would really help you?

Well they could just sit there with concerned looks on their faces and listen to me rant.  That would be helpful, no advice or solutions necessary.  They could also offer me coffee or chocolate.  Or large sums of money.  Things like that tend to improve my mood.

Regardless of your physical fitness, coordination or agility: If you could be an athlete what would you do? Remember this is SYW, dreaming is always allowed.

The first me-being-athletic thing that pops in to my head is long distance or marathon runner.  Which is pretty funny considering how most days I have trouble motivating myself to walk around the block.  But think of the cool spandex clothes and awesome shoes and sweaty headbands.  Pulling muscles.  Collapsing over the finish line.

Maybe baseball would be a more sane choice for me.  Pinch hitter.  Smacking out spectacular home runs followed by leisurely jaunts around the bases and congratulatory high fives.  I could do that.  (In my dreams.) (You did say dreaming was okay.)  A nightmare on the other hand would be jumping off a diving board head first into deep water.  Who in their right mind thinks that’s a good idea.

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

Yesterday I was SO SMART taking advantage of the sunshine to mow the lawn.  It’s been pouring rain ever since and generally cold and windy and miserable.  Definitely not marathon running weather.

I’m looking forward to going north for a visit with family on the weekend.  And then the return home mid August of W who is closing up the cottage early this year mostly I think because he is bored being on his own so much.  Well of course there’s more issues than that.  I wonder if he’s tried overdosing on chocolate.  Probably not. Sounds like something the night nurse might recommend.

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Balls

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Last night W wandered into the living room and asked me what I was drawing.

I said balls.

Looking at my sketch book page, he said what is that, an orange, or a peach or what?

I said, it’s just a ball.

He laughed.

I thought, are balls funny?

These particular balls, not amusing to me no matter how hard I look at them, are simply my experiment in colour blending and shading using pencil crayons.  They ended up looking like unfunny balls.  Mission accomplished.

However, after that, the very idea of balls kept me awake last night.  I imagined teaching everything about balls to people learning the English language. This could be funny for the teacher, but probably much less funny for the students.

Consider this comprehensive list, and then you decide how many ball lessons might be required to master all the concepts.

1.  She entered the ballroom wearing her ball gown to dance at the gala ball.  Everyone could see she was having a ball.

2.  At the ball game in the ball park, the pitcher often throws more strikes than balls.  There are fair balls and foul balls and the umpire must have the balls to stand by his various calls.

3.  What do the words tennis, golf, cannon, meat, ping-pong and basket all have in common?  Bingo.  They are all balls.  There are also bingo balls.

4.  He crumpled the paper into a ball.

5.  A football is not the same thing as the ball of your foot, both of which are larger than the ball of your thumb.

6.  The accountants found his financial records to be all balled up.

7.  Yarn and candy and cotton can all be balls.

8.  If you think something is bull shit nonsense, it’s more polite to call it bolus or balls.

9.  You can carry the ball, run with the ball, drop the ball, start the ball rolling,  keep the ball rolling, and just generally be on the ball.

10.  Does a snowman, made of balls of snow, have snowballs?

It’s enough to make a bald man bawl.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends.  May there be sufficient left overs for turkey balls tomorrow.

And just to remind you that balls can be hilarious, here’s a classic to start off the holiday coming up next.

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Bar Story

photo credit explorethebruce.com

Daily Prompt: Fill In the Blank

Three people walk into a bar . . .my sister, my brother-in-law and me.  We are in Small Town Ontario, it is late afternoon.  We have just dropped my niece off at the ball park where she’s doing whatever it is that ball players do to prepare themselves for the big game, and we have some time to kill.

Every small town in Ontario has a local hotel.  Every one of them is called “The Queens” or something similarly grand.  They all have charm and character. They all serve cold beer.

We sit at a small table on hard wooden chairs and the lady behind the bar shouts across the empty space asking us what we’ll have.  Three of whatever’s on tap, my brother-in-law law shouts back.  And how about you, Charlie, she asks, the usual?  Charlie has joined us at our table, although there are vacant spots everywhere.  The only other occupied seat is a stool at the bar where a big bearded man sits with his elbows embracing his glass and his hands supporting his head, mesmerized by the sports cast on the overhead tv.bar and grill

Charlie smiles at us and nods as he raises his hand in a wave of assent to the bar tender.  We all smile back at Charlie.  He is a little rough around the edges, somebodys forgotten grandpa, plaid shirt and oil stained ball cap as old and wrinkled as he is himself.   I think perhaps we have innocently chosen to sit at Charlies regular table, and he is not about to give up his usual space.

How’re ya doin’ he wants to know, and what brings ya ta here.  And what do ya think o’ the damned temperature out there, ain’t it on the high side fer this time o’ the year?   Charlie taps his stubby fingers on the wooden table top with one hand while caressing the grey stubble on his face with the other, listening to our polite replies.  When his beer arrives he grabs it with both hands to take long thirsty swallows, bangs his glass back down, and then releases a thunderous belch, for which he does not apologize.

I glance at my sister, who is staring at the beams overhead, her lips pressed hard together suppressing what I’m sure would be a loud guffaw if she let it go.  I clear my throat too loudly and take a long drink, hoping I won’t choke, spitting beer all over Charlie’s table.  We sit quietly for a minute.  The television drones.  The bartender hums as she rearranges some glasses and swishes a bar towel across the counter.  We look expectantly at Charlie but he has stopped talking.  His eyes are closed and his chin is resting on his chest.  He still clutches his beer glass in both hands as if someone might snatch it away from him when he’s not looking.

We enjoy the rest of our beer, anticipate the up coming game, check our watches, and then prepare to go.  The shrill jangle of a land line phone pierces the quiet and the lady behind the bar starts to curse.  Oh my Lord love a fucking duck, this Jesus phone has been ringing off the damned hook all fucking day!  What the damned hell, I can’t take this any longer!  She grabs the receiver and shouts HELLO!

We quietly make our escape.  I ask the other two if they heard the phone ring more than once while we were in there and they both say no.  I wonder what kind of emotional stress we might have caused by ordering a second round.  And when will Charlie notice that we’re gone?  Three people walk out of a bar laughing and don’t look back.

Sandhill Cranes Out Standing in Their Field

This is what we saw in the field across the road today – this is not my picture because they were too far away and not this clear even with binoculars.  I was excited to see the wild turkeys that are always lurking around nearby, but sandhill cranes is a first for me and even better.

We also had a little visitor today for a couple of hours after school, so I got to watch Bambi which I’ve never seen before and will have to be forced at gunpoint to ever watch again.  The wandering cat has wandered off.  We finished our painting and varnishing.  Watched the Blue Jays win and the Pittsburgh Penguins lose.

Did I mention anywhere that we’ve also watched Mama Mia and It’s Complicated and while Ann works away on her little knitted comfort dolls, I’ve been making bizarre things out of yarn just to keep her company.  We’ve laughed our way through all the episodes of The Vicar of Dibley and that has reminded us of our bus tour of the UK.  When we were somewhere close to where the series was filmed, our tour guide played DVD’s of some of the shows.

I think I’ve watched more tv in the past week than I’ve done in the past year.  Early in the morning tomorrow we’re going for pedicures, babysitting all afternoon, then off to see a psychic on Friday and our big “Easter” dinner is Saturday.  The time is speeding by!  W. informs me he’s all set up now for satelite radio.  And that perhaps he’ll still be home when I get back.  I have no idea how he’s filling his days of leisure, but, so sad for him,  it’s not likely with psychics and spas and sandhill cranes.

To Market To Market

We’re a whole week into April already!  I hope by the time I get home everything will be as green there as it is here.  Today was lovely and sunny and warm, (impossible to even imagine snow) although they are predicting some rain in the next few days.  Which is perfectly okay since that’s what keeps things green.

This morning we had coffee and a chatty visit with my brother and his wife.  It’s perfectly amazing how well he’s getting along and how much he’s doing.  They had some yard work planned and were considering going out for a game of golf in the afternoon.  I’m not even going to try to keep up with him!  My sister and I went shoe shopping and out for lunch at the Walker House and then to the Southampton Market to browse.  I love that place – I’m sure I’d fill my house up with their beautiful unfinished wooden things if I lived any closer.

And then spend all my time staining and varnishing and painting.  They say there’s two acres of shopping in the place, so wandering around in there for the afternoon was probably great exercise.  And I only spent twenty dollars. You don’t need to know what I paid for two pairs of shoes before that.

I’ve watched more baseball and hockey since I got here than I have all year at home.  It’s kind of embarrassing that my neice knows everything about the Edmonton Oilers and I have no idea what she’s talking about.  Today is her third day following her tonsilectomy and probably the worst as far as pain and discomfort go.  Starting tomorrow things should steadily improve.

We’re very close to the lake out here and I can hear geese making an incredible racket although I can’t imagine what they’re up to in the middle of the night.  Honking at the full moon maybe?  No matter, they won’t keep me awake for long.  Instead of traffic and sirens I’ve got country and crickets.  It’s kind of a pleasant change.

Harry Is Not Amused

When I asked for help in keeping these orange beasts sorted out, my sister told me that Harry is the one who always looks pissed off.  And it’s true, she does.  She is the only female and the only mom and she has the stupidest name, so who can blame her for her ill tempered little face.

Last night I met a delightful little girl for the first time, got a tour of a beautiful new home, and am now able to put a face and a place together.  We are so happy to have her as part of our family and hope this little while can turn into forever.  It’s a process I’m somewhat familiar with and know that these things take a long and agonizing time to resolve.  Fingers crossed – we’re hoping for a happy ending.

This morning I had my hair trimmed because it was starting to look a little ragged around the edges.  And I did promise that I would get myself to a professional when I got the urge to start hacking away at it myself.  This time it was blown dry first and then cut – I must say there are fewer surprises doing it that way.

And today is the day my neice had her tonsils out.  She’s not six, (she’s over twenty six) so of course she’s heard all the horror stories about what happens when adults undergo this procedure.  So far she’s doing very well, dozing on and off, taking her meds, eating freezies and jello and ice.  We all watched the Blue Jays game on tv.  And watched and watched and watched.  All sixteen innings of it, which they finally managed to win over Cleveland.

So baseball season is open before the hockey playoffs begin.  Even the weather is confused.  There was a huge dump of snow in Edmonton this morning, so some of that crappy weather may be coming this way.  W told me the furnace is in and running at last, and his satelite radio has been delivered, so there’s really nothing to keep him home now except perhaps the snow.  That won’t hold him for long when the island is calling his name.

And last but not least, I have to confess that when we left the house this morning I closed my bedroom door to keep the cats out of it.  Several hours later we came home to discover that I had shut Harry inside of it instead of out, which caused her to be even more indignant than normal.  Sorry Harry.  But I know you had a lovely long undisturbed nap on my pillow, so if I’m not sounding as remorseful as you’d like, that would be why. So please stop glaring at me, I’m not falling for it.

Home Is…

The obvious and fair solution to the housework problem is to let men do the housework for, say, the next six thousand years, to even things up. The trouble is that men, over the years, have developed an inflated notion of the importance of everything they do, so that before long they would turn housework into just as much of a charade as business is now. They would hire secretaries and buy computers and fly off to housework conferences in Bermuda, but they’d never clean anything. ~Dave Barry

Home is a key on my laptop between delete and end.

Home is what I click on when I’m lost on a website so I can start again.

Home is a base where I’d start off batting, and strive to end up back there safe.

Home is a verb when I’m homing in.

Home is where I can’t be homesick but I can be home sick.

Home is my refuge, my shelter, my nest.

Home is not just a place, it’s the people I love.

Home is in my heart and a memory in my mind.

Home is a workplace.

Home is the best place to get a good night’s sleep.

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