Sharing My World 81

Baby sister and me at picnic grounds, random uncle in background, and some very cool cars.

Share Your World – May 28, 2018

If you were to pack a basket for a picnic lunch, what would be in your basket?

I have the fondest memories of our Sunday family picnics in a little park beside the beach in Port Elgin.  There were always various aunts and uncles and cousins from my dad’s side of the family, the heady scent of cedar in the hot sun, and picnic tables that the men would round up until there were enough to seat everyone.  There were paper table cloths and paper plates, plastic cups and cutlery, wasps, ants, screeching sea gulls, and so much food we always ended up having to decide who would take what home with them.  Because how boring to take what you brought and how fun to exchange things.  And fight over Aunt Marie’s brownies topped with melted marshmallows and chocolate icing.  Well, maybe that never happened because I can’t imagine there being any of those left.

Something that did happen every picnic day without fail was having the adults warn their children that swimming was absolutely forbidden until two hours after eating. Because to do so meant you would probably get cramps and die.  And the adults would have their after meal chat time seriously reduced too. That bit would be equally tragic.

I do not remember ever having much to do with the picnic food prep, which likely explains my picnic nostalgia.  White bread sandwiches cut in little triangles and jello salads and potato salads and desserts all just magically appeared.  And there was always Freshie.  That’s a Canadian thing from the 1950’s and beyond, an add-your-own-sugar drink mix, in kid flavours called orange, yellow, purple and red.  Purple was the best.

At this point in my life I have a hard time figuring out what the point of a picnic is when it’s just so much easier to stay home where there is less pollen and fewer bugs.  But if I was forced at gun point to pack for one, I’d fill the basket with potato salad and plastic forks.  And hope somebody else remembers to bring the Freshie.

On a vacation what do you require in any place that you sleep?

A decent mattress, clean sheets, air conditioning, a great shower, towels larger than postage stamps and internet access.  As far as I know there are none of these things in a tent.  Oh, and lots of body lotion.  Some places are very chintzy with the body lotion.  I bring my own, but still, you know, free stuff.

If you were to buy a new house/apartment what are the top three items on your wish list?

Funny you should ask because I have been watching design challenges and home purchasing shows and small home documentaries.  It is completely bizarre to me how much space some people think they need.  One woman wanted an extra room just to store her shoes.  Think about why you need such a ridiculous amount of storage space and then get rid of half your crap.  Plus, seriously, if you are one person with four bathrooms, what is going on in that little head of yours?  And more importantly, who is keeping them all clean while you’re out working your ass off to pay your mortgage?

Top three items on my list:  two bedrooms, big shower, no stairs.  The rest of the list?   Kitchen with stools and a counter you can eat at, open to living area, a little patio or balcony, no grass to cut.  A den or office area would be a nice bonus for books and art paraphernalia but if that stuff can fit in the bedrooms, even better.  Something small and easy to keep clean.  If I want to entertain I will rent a hall.  Or take you out to a restaurant.  If you get really drunk and can’t drive home, you can sleep on my floor.

What did you appreciate or what made you smile this past week?

Last summer it would often take me a couple of days to cut the grass, doing the back one day and the front the next.  I’ve done it twice now, front and back easily in a morning, no problem. So I guess those 15 minute senior workouts are doing their magic.  I also found a video that takes you on a mile long walk (1.609 km in Canada) without leaving your home.  So, great for rainy, heavy pollen, or crazy hot days. The ‘walk’ incorporates side to side and back and forth steps, arm and knee raises, kicks, twists, and generally a lot of antics that if you did them out and about in your neighbourhood would draw a lot of attention to yourself.

After all these hot days, last night we had our first real thunder-storm of the season. It was short but lovely.  There’s something about the delightful smell of a rain storm that always makes me smile.   That, plus the fact that if you had a picnic planned you’d have to call it off and eat at your kitchen counter instead.

Art du Jour 72

Previously I mentioned somewhere that it was too hot to breathe. I like breathing and don’t want to stop anytime soon, so I’m thinking a fierce and crazy thunderstorm might help to disperse some of this heat which appears to be happily settled in for the duration.

“For the duration” is an expression my mom used a lot about many things. It’s a good one and I like it. It means for the whole time that something continues; for the entire period of time required for something to be completed; for as long as something takes.

This 16 x 20 inch (40.6 x 50.8 cm.) work of art on canvas took me about three days to complete. Here is a breakdown of actual time spent on it.
1. Ripping up paper and map pieces – 20 minutes.
2. Pasting stuff everywhere, including on canvas, desk and fingertips – 30 minutes.
3. Spritzing on ink and colour and water and letting it meander – 10 minutes
4. Staring at unfinished piece during drying time while thoughtfully contemplating next step – 2.5 days.
5. Adding final touches and sealer – most of this morning in fits and starts while doing many other things.

I don’t know how to speed up the staring time. There is a lovely ghost-like dementor shape floating across the canvas and I didn’t want to obliterate it. But it did fade into the background. Perhaps I’m the only one who will ever notice that. Excessive staring has its perks.

My plan for the duration of this heat wave is to keep the ice-cube trays full and the fans on high. And listen for the distant rumble of thunder bringing cooling summer rain.

Just Jazzy 179

“A lovely thing about Christmas is that it’s compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together.”
― Garrison Keillor, Leaving Home

There’s no escaping Christmas. You can close your eyes and refuse to see it, but it’s almost impossible to stop feeling it in your heart.

 

Just Jazzy Advent Calendar

Language Evolves From the Omnishambles of Slang

We’re in the middle of an early morning thunder-storm but I am bravely/foolishly continuing to use my laptop in spite of the fact that I could be electrocuted at any moment. It’s called grabbing life by the balls.  Or reckless self endangerment or courting peril, or some made up word that no one has heard of before, like hazardariousness, depending on your point of view.

I’ve been reading some of the writing and editing articles on http://prdaily.com and thinking how wonderful it is that language evolves.  And how there will always be die-hard stubborn stick-in-the-muds who oppose its evolution.  In the interests of keeping it pure and boring.

Take a minute and check out the article here : 15 ridiculous new terms that might make the dictionary  Yes, some of the terms may seem laughable to many of us – mantyhose, for instance.  But maybe I’ve centered that one out because I find the whole idea of tights in general somewhere this side of loony.  Could stem from recalling how I wrestled with them as a child trying to get the crotch to stay above my knees.  There are some experiences that stick with you forever.

Twitlit could be the new haiku.  It’s not easy saying everything you want to say in 140 characters or less.  Unless your name is brian and what you’ve got to say is simply “every single one of these terms are retarded.”  Sad to think brian might not realize how the term “retarded” evolved to mean what he intends it to mean here. And that he might be taken more seriously if he were to use “is” instead of “are” in this instance.  No doubt he thinks cranky old English majors are also retarded.

Horsefeathers and applesauce were expletives in the 1920’s.  A joint used to be a club or a bar.  The cats pyjamas, the cats meow and the bees knees were the greatest and the best of all things wonderful.  In the seventies – wicked, gnarly, bitchin’, heavy and bad all meant good.  Instead of taking an old word and twisting it’s meaning, why not create a brand new one? Or a catchy phrase that says it all?

A passage in the book I’m currently reading (High Five by Janet Evanovich) has Lula describing someone as a slime faced bag of monkey shit.  That may not go down in the literary hall of fame as great literature, but it certainly gets the point across.  And that’s what it all comes down to in the end – communication.  There’s all kinds of ways to say things, and many different ways to look at them.

The thunderstorm is over already.  So much for living life on the edge. Or should I say kamikaze style or balls to the wall, if that’s not too redonkulous for you.

What Happiness Is

Yay, it’s another LIST!  I live for lists.  When I got home from work yesterday I realized that I’d been relatively happy all day long.  How odd.  I need to figure out why so I can do that again sometime.

Happiness Is……

 – waking up before the alarm goes off and realizing I can go back to sleep for another hour.

– having enough time to finish my morning coffee.

– booking extra walk-in eye exam appointments for the doctor so he has a much less crappy day.

– finding out all my contact lens patients have rescheduled or cancelled.  Proving my theory that if people book on a Saturday they will always think of something better to do with their weekend.

– listening to a wild and crazy thunderstorm and the rain pounding on the roof.

– realizing the rain has finally stopped right after remembering my umbrella is in the car.

– getting everything finished and clocking out on time because no crazy person wandered in after I turned the lights out to ask if we were closed.

– finding out it rained so hard it beat all the dirt off my car so now I don’t have to wash it.

– not having to stop and pick up anything on the way home.

– discovering I didn’t leave the bedroom window wide open after all.

– eating a piece of toast slathered with Nutella.  Knowing nobody saw me do that.

– watching “Water for Elephants” on Netflix, skipping over the cruel and brutal parts and replaying the touching scenes one more time.

– knowing that I’ve made it through yet another day, unharmed, still breathing, and mentally sound.  (Well, two out of three ain’t bad.)

It’s been raining all night long.  Our lawn is as green as a golf course and the air is so fresh it makes me want to breathe in and never exhale.  Have a Happy end-of-a-splendid-week-end Sunday.  🙂