Ornaments

 A number of years ago I started making the grandkids ornaments for the tree. I began when there were four grandkids and went back to the beginning. Only made one for two years, then two, three, then four. For a few years it stayed steady at the four, until we had two babies (cousins) in one year and then finally the seventh.

I went against my initial inspiration, to make each set on a theme, and went with copies of each ornament each given year. The idea was that when those children grew up and moved away from home, they would have ornaments for their first ‘adult’ tree with, hopefully, some memories attached.

These ornaments do not necessarily fit into whatever theme or design my children might have for their tree on any given year. I told them to leave the ornaments boxed and set them aside until the time comes. I would not be upset. I know those ornaments are not my best work, or at least not up to the quality I could achieve today.

I suggested I start over and make each child a set of ornaments designed for each individually. That idea was not received well by the parents. I think they dread that it could get out of control, much like my crocheting does.

Don’t worry guys, I’m still at the pondering stage and have made nothing yet. Don’t say you weren’t warned. 

Oh Christmas Tree

 I haven’t had a Christmas tree in a number of years now, the space here just does not allow.  I suppose it’s a matter of what’s most important, a tree or the loss of space for my creative endeavours.

All my gifts have been given and opened, such as they were. With the grandkids it’s more about gift cards than gifts. It’s hard to buy for teenagers. And the littles as I call the youngest of my group of seven, will probably be in the growing too fast, soon to be adult, group soon enough.

My daughter is famous for putting her tree up early. This year it was mid November, early even for her. Given the number of heartbreaking accidents that happened to close friends in recent months, she may have been trying to inject a bit of cheer into the house.

Her tree looked beautiful, the glow of lights adding a comforting ambiance to the room. Knowing her, she’ll be itching to take it down, if she hasn’t already.

My son put his tree up in December, a more reasonable timeframe in my mind. Early December until after New Year’s. I especially liked the tree up for New Year’s Eve, as I like to spend that day at home.

The holiday is different this year, as the province of Ontario is now in lockdown. 

No matter what holiday you celebrate, what symbols you display in that celebration, do it with love and joy. Do it with your ‘bubble’ of family, create new traditions, use social media to stay connected with those you cannot see in real time.

One day at a time. It’s how we are given it, and how we’ll get through it.

Though I’m a couple of days late, Merry Christmas. 

 

Lockdown

 So, with Covid-19 numbers increasing in our county, and the province, the government has ordered a lockdown starting December 26th.  The timing of this is incredible, and just...crazy.

To be locked down for a month is tough. We were given a few days to prepare, to shop, to fill our cupboards with food and other necessities. Plus, the there was still time for those last minute shoppers to finish their Christmas shopping. Hopefully everyone will do it in a safe and cautious manner.

And so as to not rile the voters, the government leaders chose the date that will allow everyone their Christmas gatherings before shutdown. I imagine there would have been a revolt if the date for lockdown was December 23rd. 

But the activity that will be happening in these few days is exactly the kind of behaviour that has brought us to this point. I fear there will be an immediate rise in numbers before the hoped for flattening of the curve.

Merry Christmas, be smart and stay safe.

Police Stop

 I was on my way to my daughter’s house to make some Christmas goodies with a three generational group of ‘ladies’.  I had the van loaded with peanut butter, oatmeal, corn syrup and chocolate chips. I was ready and the girls were waiting.

Normally I turn into the subdivision at the bottom of the hill, but for some reason I kept going and gave the old girl (Bertha, my van) some gas to get to the top. She made it, very energetically I must say, and the policeman hidden in the side road must have agreed as he motioned me over.

My last and first speeding ticket was at least thirty years ago. So long ago that my first thought on seeing the policeman in the middle of the road was “what is he doing?” LOL I mean if I’m going to get pulled over I want the true experience, the bleep of the siren and the flashing lights. 

I pulled into the side street and parked, rolled my window down as he approached.  For months I have watched the videos of drivers being pulled over by the cops and all of the resulting arguments and often violence. My policeman was very polite and immediately asked “did you know you were doing 71 in a 50?”. (This is Canadian kilometres not miles per hour).

I’ll admit I had no idea how fast I was going, but I wasn’t going to argue. When he asked for my driver’s license I removed it from my wallet and handed it over. Ownership and insurance? I’ve got that I thought, somewhere. Immediately I started searching through the glove compartment.

Owners manual, service receipts, old eyeglasses, and such, but not what I was seeking. I apologized repeatedly, and marvelled at his patience. Finally I found a little red case with the ownership and an old insurance card. Oops.

My concern as I drove had been on the four teas from Tim’s that were sitting on the passenger side floor. I offered him one but he politely declined. I was told to wait as he returned to his cruiser with my papers.

It seemed to take awhile considering I’ve led a quiet, crime free life, but then he was back.  The speeding ticket was $110 and three points, the no proof of insurance another $65.  Well, hell, I thought  I just had a $700+ dentist bill and now this, and I haven’t finished my Christmas shopping.

“I do believe you have insurance so I’ll give you a pass on that one,”.  I thanked him profusely. “And I’ll knock the speeding down to ten over so you don’t lose points. That makes it $40.” He then went on to explain how that could be paid, asked me if I understood, and I said yes, though I hadn’t heard a word after $40. 

At my daughter’s I explained why I was late and they all laughed at me. Thought I was joking because they think I’m guilty of ‘granny driving’. That means slow driving. 

There was one time I volunteered to drive my granddaughter to work, as I was leaving and her work was on my way. My granddaughter didn’t want me to drive her because she was already late and I “drive slow and don’t even take the highway”. Such teenage angst and poor planning. 

I was saved that day as the ride she thought she’d missed was also running late and she took off. A few days later I was back at my daughter’s, leaving at the same time as the same granddaughter and a friend were leaving. This time my offer of a ride was accepted.

I pulled away from the curb ever so slowly, and stopped at the sign one house away. After many glances at the road to be sure it was clear I turned the corner and drove away at a snail’s pace.

“Has your friend heard of granny driving?” I asked. I refused to speed up, in spite of the apologies from my granddaughter. She was embarrassed, which was the point, and her friend and I thoroughly enjoyed the moment. 

No more granny driving for me. I got a speeding ticket. So there!

Pet Therapy

 

I’ve been streaming and frequently watch the videos I posted by animal rescue. It is heartwarming to see the animal not only recuperate from their “bad” situation, but to see them thrive, and learn to love, to trust again.

Pets offer unconditional love, are great companions and never hold it against you if you forget to fill the water bowl or arrive home late.

I carry dog treats in my car so the dogs in the family are always glad to see me. At my son’s place, a rural property, the dog barks when I pull in the drive, as any good dog might.  But once I’m recognized he sits by my door in welcome and is good for any amount of petting and ear scratching.

The other family pet is only 10 months old, and very much still an enthusiastic puppy. Energetic and very smart, he remembers the treats and exactly where I keep them. Once in the zippered pocket of my jacket, the next visit he kept poking at that pocket. 

Another time, no jacket, I had the treats in my back pocket.  With bar height chairs he stayed at my side, frequently reminding me there were treats there. Reminded me so well the back of my pants were wet from repeated licking.

Having a pet lie with you, or sit by your side, or even on your feet is comforting. Holding him close, stroking down his back, scratching his ears are all sources of comfort for both animal and human.

I had cats for many years, and they were a constant source of comfort or wellbeing. They could read my moods and seemed to know when I needed their attention or was okay alone.

My daughter got her puppy last February. By early March things were shut down, the kids home from school and the pup was a constant source of amusement during the initial stages of the pandemic. That dog was never really alone and we often talked about what would happen when everyone was back to full activities. Between working from home and changing shifts it never really became a problem. 

The dogs become part of the routine, like any member of the family. Have to pick so and so up from school, from work. Have to get home to let the dog out.

There is a reason long term care facilities have a pet therapy program, or a visiting pet program. Because it works, it makes people feel better.

One of my favourite commercials on television depicts a young girl in a hospital bed. She sees the nurse in the doorway and asks, “more treatment?”.  The nurse replies they are going to try something different and a dog walks in and lays its head on the bed. The absolute joy shown by the little girl is so beautiful.

I can imagine how she feels, I need my own times with the family pets, my own bit of pet therapy. Works every time.

Spider-Man Sign

 I’ve been watching television and the same advertisement has been shown regularly, animated scenes depicting the Spider-Man character for some new gaming series.

In one particular scene Spider-Man is sitting on the corner of a city rooftop, his hand held out in the position from which he will toss out a web. At least I think that’s what he’s going to do but it’s a guess as I’ve never seen any of the Spider-Man movies or games.

The commercial makes me laugh because my grandson, in his younger days, was a fan of the movie and/or cartoon and often wore his spidey pajamas.

He was such a fan that he found it puzzling that his grandmother was using the same sign as his favourite super hero.

“Why does Baba (me) use the Spider-Man signal?” he asked his Mom.

And I do, whenever I say goodbye to my family. 

It began years ago, when the kids father and I divorced and I would see the kids off for weekends or holidays with their Dad. And when they got older, I would put them on the train to avoid the hours of traffic crossing the city during rush hour.

Our last communication was always signed, in sign language, the sign for I love you. 

🤟 No matter what had been said before, or what might happen during our separation, our final ‘words’ to each other were always an expression of love.

Me and Spider-Man, using the same gesture. If a web ever spews from my fingertips, spider or not, I’m going to be greatly annoyed and I may be forced to search the sign language alphabet for another sign.

Grandma by any other Name

 It is possible for a child to have four living grandmothers, so they can be called by many different names to avoid confusion. One set of my grandchildren have a Baba, a Nana and a Nani. The other set has a Baba (which makes that in common name me), a Grandma and a GG (for great grandmother).

I’m third generation Baba, as far as I know. There was my mother, and her mother, and my father’s mother who was differentiated by her name being added, Baba Bessie. I share the title with my sister. Where the name originated, I have no idea.

For more than twenty years I have been called Baba more than I’ve been called by my given name, but I don’t mind, for being a grandmother is a role I cherish.

But it wasn’t unusual that I could be in the middle of a store and hear “Baba,” called out by some child, but not one of my grandchilds lol. That is my identity with many people who know my kids or their offspring.

My oldest grandson has taken to calling me Bob. Maybe, in his newly minted teenage status, Baba was embarrassing, too much like baby talk.  That’s ok, I will answer to anything that is said with love and affection.

Christmas Crochet

 It’s been six years since I introduced Christmas crochet to our family holiday traditions.  Each year I pick a crochet theme and make one for each member of the family, thirteen in total. Each item is one of a kind, made with love. 

It started with hats, as winter is cold and snowy here.  Then I tried socks, hats and mitts, slippers. Items need to be on a small scale, so sweaters and Afghans are out, but it’s been hard finding things without being too repetitive.

One year I had fun with it and made everyone a stuffed animal. Who doesn’t like stuffies?

Last year was not a good year foe me and I just couldn’t gather the creative energy. It was the year of the mug cozy, fast and functional.

This year I went all out, made the basic thirteen and a couple of dozen more. I went a little stir crazy for Gnomes. It was such fun to make the basic body and then give each little man some character.

What do you you think?

The Strength in Community

 I saw my grandson today, and he’s changed, not as quick to laugh, to smile, but willing and needing the hug I offered.  His friend is dead, a concept he must struggle with, though the empty desk in his classroom, the absence at the hockey games are constant reminders.

Almost a week ago that 12 year old boy and his 10 year old sister were standing on the side of a country road waiting for the school bus. As the bus approached a car apparently came over the hill and lost control coming down the road, and hit the two children. 

The little girl suffered so many injuries, critical injuries, and was subsequently flown to the city and admitted to a trauma unit. To date she has had three surgeries, the last a nine hour operation to repair her spine. 

Her town and mine are deeply intertwined. People’s work lives, their shopping, their sports are shared. I’d like to say we are separated by only fifteen or so kilometres but right now I’m guessing.

Everyone wants to know how the family is doing, and wants to help. A candlelight vigil is planned for an evening this week, and money is being raised to help with expenses.

The father has written two Facebook postings that just make me want to cry. I can’t imagine him sitting down to write about his children in this way. He gives some information and it’s obvious he’s trying to be strong, to say just enough, but in my nurse’s opinion he’s shielding everyone from the true horror that this week has been. 

Details have been leaking out about the actual accident and it has been said the driver was seventeen and lost control coming down the steep hill with its mostly gravelled surface.

Another Facebook posting today was asking for people to reach out to this young man and his family. For their lives are also going to be greatly altered because of that morning’s events.

We’re hockey communities, and though things are greatly scaled down because of COVID-19, there is still some semblance of play. The hockey families will be supportive of this family, just as they were there for another hockey family a few months ago who lost everything in a house fire. 

Our small town has seen enough tragedy and heartbreak. I was hoping this would be the extent of our 2020 challenges but now we are faced with a daily increase in COVID cases in our county. 

I hope we weather this storm as we have others through the years, and pray that everyone will be there to welcome the new year feeling safe and strong.

❤️

Learning to Sew

 I sewed a lot before I moved seven years ago, but since that time it’s  been in the closet and never touched. Until my granddaughter showed an interest. 

I was glad to help her out, and was even going to give her my machine if she showed a sincere interest. 

The first lesson almost never happened as I had no fabric. But then I found a fleece blanket I had purchased for another project that I never started, let alone finished.

We found a hat pattern on line and made a couple of kids hats first. My measurements were off so the hats ended up toddler sized, but cute nonetheless.

When I moved I gave my son, my sewing apprentice’s father, all my stash of fabric to store for me. Last year we sorted through it and downsized from five or six vacuum sealed bags to two.  It’s a good indicator of how much he loves his Mom that he never complained, or badgered me to get rid of it.

I should tell you that I believe in treating my kids equally, which is why my daughter inherited boxes of framed artwork, empty frames and odds and ends of my art work at the time of my move.

My granddaughter took to sewing like a duck to water. Though we had only covered the basics, that seemed to be enough to get her started. I was going to give her my machine, after all I hadn’t seemed to miss it with all the other arts and crafts I do, but my son was reluctant. Rightly so. This little bit of sewing did awaken my love of sewing. I kept my machine and my apprentice got her own. As kids are so skilled in the use of the internet she has found herself many tutorials for sewing projects.

Meanwhile I’ve been making masks and added a sewing element to my Christmas crochet. (More on that later).

It’s been fun sharing this hobby with my granddaughter. She loves all genres of creating, painting, drawing and crochet, so I see many more joint projects in our future.

Parent’s Worst Nightmare

It’s early in the morning, kids rush out to stand on the side of the road to wait for the school bus. And in a split second, life as one family knew, changed forever.

Siblings, on a country road were struck by a truck, leaving a twelve year old dead, and a ten year old in critical condition.

Something like this hits our small community hard, and everyone feels the parents’ pain.

My twelve year old grandson is grieving for his friend, his classmate, his teammate. 

The shock of this tragedy resounds through the town. 

My heart goes out to the family, their loss is unfathomable.  

My heart goes out to my twelve year old grandson who is once again trying to understand and accept the unthinkable, the loss that comes with sudden death.

The Differences Between Men and Woman

 I made a trip out of town with my son, as he had a special order to pick up. I went along for the ride and the conversation. We made the usual detour to the drive thru for our coffee and tea and hit the highway.

On the way back he asked if I needed anything, and I replied “just milk, I’ll put a grocery order in later”. 

At the store I mentioned I also needed coffee creamer and tried to sneak in one more item.

“So what, now I’m shopping?” he replied. I would make do with the milk, the creamer, and the chicken strips that he so graciously added to his shopping. It makes me laugh, that this guy hates shopping so much yet always asks if I need anything.

Not long after I accompanied my daughter on an out of town errand she needed to make. (Adding the sold sign on the house she’d just sold”).

“I’m not like your son,” she said. When we hit the drive thru we also got breakfast.

I know we ran a number of errands that morning, picking up my online order at Walmart, her quick trips into the grocery and dollar stores.  As the weather gets colder these excursions where I wait in the car may not be as comfortable but I do enjoy the chance to visit uninterrupted.  

Life for everyone can get so busy, and you have to make the most of what opportunities are presented to keep in touch. Texting is great but nothing can replace a real face to face conversation.

I live alone, and like it that way. I spend my time as I want, painting, crocheting, and now, apparently writing. But after awhile I need some human contact, some real, some talk I don’t have to type.

So when I’m asked if I need anything, I might say yes, if for no other reason than the quick visit we can have when you come by. Works for me. 

Writing Memories

 The month of November is NaNo month. Or NaNoWriMo. It’s a contest, or challenge, to write a novel in the 30 days of November. It’s quite a daunting task and it requires a good deal of time and effort. I know, I’ve done it a few times. 

I haven’t been writing for a couple of years now, and miss it terribly. I can’t tell you how many blogs I’ve written in my head, usually when I’m trying to fall asleep.

I was in the midst of a new book about two years ago, the great unfinished novel (joking). I was in a rough state physically and could not sit for long without pain. I have multiple sclerosis and fibromyalgia, along with a wrecked back and a bad knee.  All of that meant I couldn’t spend much time on the computer, and for awhile there, I’ll admit, I really didn’t give a damn.

My daughter knew I loved my computer, for more than writing, and gifted me an iPad.  Now this I could use in bed when I needed to rest, and my laptop has been put away unused and abandoned.

We, my child instructor and I, loaded the usual things on, but not my book or my blogs. I finally added those this week as my skill has improved and I really hate leaving things unfinished.  

I rediscovered blogger stats and was shocked to see I had almost 300 views to the one blog in November. And this with nothing new posted in years.  Wait, that’s wrong, I did post once when things settled down, even got the book out, but then I was hit with a severe sciatica and couldn’t walk or sit for long. So it all got shoved back in the drawer so to speak.

Oddly enough, I’m doing better and want to give it all a try again. Seems a fall I had last year which resulted in a broken tailbone, also did an adjustment to my back that cured my sciatica.  

This is as good as I’m going to get, and at this stage of my disease, I’m thankful to still be mobile, all be it, with the use of aids.  Fatigue and brain fog may rob me of days spent writing, but there are more good than bad, so I will do my best to be productive, word wise.

I should have done this months ago, as I wasn’t venturing out and had everything I needed delivered.

This pandemic has affected everyone in some way.  We didn’t have many COVID cases in our county until recently, one of the benefits to small town living. The cities have definitely had a challenge with increasing cases, hospital admissions and their constant testing and tracing.

Stay safe people, may we soon see an end to this vicious virus.

.