Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

 Woke up to see the grounds covered in snow, and wasn’t really be surprised. The world has not been playing by any expected rules, and Mother Nature has joined the game.

I kept seeing articles instructing people not to be too eager cleaning up their gardens, as the insects need those roots and shoots to survive for the coming season. Apparently we need a consistent length of time with the temperature well established in a warmer range. The -6 C of this morning is not in that range.

We had one beautiful day with short sleeve temperatures and sunshine.  I sat outside just taking it all in. Comfy in my chair I leaned back, closed my eyes and listened. To the variety of birdsong, the neighbours children laughing as they play, the dog barking at the squirrels running along the top of the fence.

That day was followed by cooler temperatures and gloomy days of rain.

The only predictable thing about the weather is it’s unpredictability. Maybe May will be better.

Community Library Boxes

 I’m not sure exactly when it began, but our library has a community project to encourage reading. They have placed attractive wooden boxes in various locations about town, filled with books. The books are free and can be taken from the box, borrowed to be read and returned, or kept if so desired. 

I have seen the boxes on various streets, and in public locations like the arena.

Today I was out and noticed a box in a beautiful neighbourhood not far from the town park. There is a tree by the sidewalk that now has a metal bench surrounding it, further encouragement for a passerby to sit and check out the books. 

I am an avid reader, and book hoarder. When I moved to this much smaller place, I knew it would all work out because there was a spot that was a perfect fit for my bookcases.

Next time I venture out I may just have to check out this box, and take a rest on the bench, or maybe I’ll drop off something new for others to enjoy.

Painted Clothes

 Pinterest offers such a wealth of creativity, and even when I can’t actually be creative, I can think about and plan, maybe even dream about the projects I’d like to do.

I’ve seen a lot of painted denim, both jeans and jackets. This project has been on my back burner for years, a prepandemic idea. I had even purchased a sort of denim jacket to experiment on.

With another denim project in mind, to make a rag denim wreath with my granddaughter, I had a need for old denim. When my daughter called from the thrift store that jeans were on sale for fifty cents each I told her to get me 10 pairs and I was in business. LOL

Three pairs went to a friend and family, to wear. I cut two pairs up for the wreaths and had pockets and tops for other projects. No excuses not to dive in and try some painting. My hesitation is based on fact I have not done any art work for over a year, and find it hard to get started.

But get started I did. Not bad for a couple days work.

Dead Batteries

 To clear off the top of my bedside table I crocheted two little holders for the television remotes. I thought I was being very neat and efficient.  Said holders hang off the corner of my bed frame at the head, handy to pick up and replace. 

Not too long ago I went to use the remote that changes channels and it didn’t work. I couldn’t get my favourites list on screen and couldn’t select a different channel directly. I assumed the batteries were dead as I couldn’t remember when I had changed them last. 

It must have been quite some time as one battery had leaked and I had to clean the crud off the remote.

Everything nice and clean, new batteries, all set. 

Not.

Within the week the new batteries were dead. Maybe this was because the batteries had been in the cupboard for a long time. I replaced them again, with high hopes, but the replacements were from the same stash. Just in case I purchased new batteries.

A week passed and the batteries died on me again, but this time I was prepared with a pair supposedly fresh and new which I replaced forthwith. 

Dead? How can that be? I was perplexed. I started pushing the variety of buttons on the remote in an attempt to get the remote working. I was tired of these marathon viewings on whatever channel I was on when my remote channel changing failed.

Suddenly the favourite channels banner was across the bottom of the screen. With a push of another button the TV guide of channels and listing of shows was on the screen. 

It was a ‘light bulb over the head’ kind of moment. I knew exactly what was wrong with all the batteries.

 Absolutely nothing.

Every time I put the remote in its holder it somehow pressed the cable button and turned it off. Except for the first batteries that had leaked, all the batteries I had tried and discarded were most likely good. 

Such a funny cause and effect. Who would have thought that slipping the remote into a pretty crocheted sleeve could cause all that trouble. 

But I’m ready if any batteries fail for real, with the set of new ones I’d purchased, and if I get the discarded ones back from my son-in-law I’ll be Girl Scout ready for any AAA emergency. 

Flying Fish

 I have a new project all laid out on the table and find my creativity blocked. Or maybe it’s more a bit of fear of the unknown. 

So, of course, I start playing on my iPad to avoid getting started.  One bit of this was looking through my photos. I came upon a couple of pictures I’d taken at the local arena. 

It’s been many years since this community centre was built, with its gymnasiums, its meeting rooms, the seniors centre and of course the two ice pads. 

When you enter from the back parking lot there is a spacious lobby area, with a wide stairway leading to the upper level of the arena. The landing has glass doors that open to the walking/running track that surrounds the arena seating. This is also where the elevator opens.

The town was very involved in the building of this community centre, in decisions made and in fundraising. One project that was a call out to the community was the flying fish.

The fish are handcrafted creations by people in the community. They are strung across the ceiling in this back lobby area and are at eye level if you’re on the landing by the elevator. I think it’s a wonderful statement that the building belongs to everyone, not just the skaters on the ice.

A Little Knowledge, or a Lot

 It amazes me how active, adult, working people are so, ignorant is the wrong word, so I’ll say unaware, of what I consider common everyday knowledge.

I was having a conversation about the new vaccines for COVID-19, and found my friend was very, and I mean very, much against the new vaccines. She was determined not to take it. And then today I see her commenting on a Facebook posting about how these vaccines are experimental, and not approved by the FDA.  That is so wrong, as all vaccines have been granted emergency authorization by the FDA.

Yes, there have been articles and ‘breaking news’ segments on the harmful effects of these vaccines, but with further investigation the drugs have been found safe.  All drugs have potential side effects and that is to be expected.

What surprised me was that she was condemning these new vaccines and didn’t understand how vaccines work. “Look at smallpox, polio, measles,” I said. “We are vaccinated for these and those diseases have been almost completely obliterated. “Even chickenpox”. 

She disagreed with me on chicken pox, said there was no vaccine for it but when we googled it there is a one time only, vaccine given around fifteen to eighteen months.

“But what about shingles”, she asked. “Even though you don’t see chickenpox much anymore people still get shingles.”   Shingles is different I explained, it’s not contagious. Only people who have had chickenpox can get shingles.  It’s a form of flare up of the original virus from something in the blood.

She didn’t understand the basic science of vaccinations and how they work, didn’t actually understand what her children had been vaccinated for.

I may be feeling a bit superior in my knowledge, as I worked for thirty years as a Registered Nurse and was constantly learning about new diseases, treatments and cures.  And since my retirement, and especially since the pandemic, I read voraciously on the streaming news networks  

It all depends on where you get your news as to whether you trust the science that Covid is a dire threat to all mankind, and accept that we need to take appropriate precautions to prevent its spread.

Or you listen to those who try to convince you it’s all a great hoax, designed by the government to limit our rights, so that you do not want, and will not obey the laws about masks and closures and lockdowns.

 It’s all so confusing with so many ‘so-called’ experts giving their opinions.

Sometimes I think it’s too many trees to get a good understanding of the forest. Time will tell, when the final truth wins out.

Expressions

 Two of my granddaughters were here last week. I was sitting on my kitchen stool and regaled them with a near miss I’d had. I was sitting on the stool, bending over for something in the cupboard when the stool started sliding backwards, off the mat and across the wood floor.

“It really moved on the floor,” I laughed. “If not for the chair I backed into I would have been ‘ass over teakettle’ and on the floor”.

My youngest granddaughter was stunned. “What?” 

I guess she’d never heard me say that before, yet it’s one of my favourite expressions.

And speaking of colourful expressions. Have any of you ever heard of Zach Rushing?

He’s from Mississippi, from the South where all communication is full of the most descriptive and very entertaining idioms. He does videos on Facebook though he’s often been in Facebook jail, as he calls it, for his language. He admits he has no filter.  But I find him most enjoyable as his take on topics like the difference between men and women really make me laugh. 

I like how he says someone dulls his shine, when they put him in a bad mood.

Another I liked was “If you’re going to come at me to put your two cents in, I’m going to come back at you with a quarter”.

Talking to someone like that would keep you on your toes, all that elaboration could make one confused.

Everything in Threes

 I am a firm believer that everything comes in threes.  Well, maybe not kids because I only had two, but lots of other things out in the universe. Ask any nurse and they will probably agree. Threes, every time. 

Some things are just strange, and I’ve seen enough to be a believer.  Like strange events during a full moon, but that’s a whole other issue. 

Back to threes.  I’m no longer working so don’t experience the three, second hand, so to speak. Now the three rule is up close and personal.

Like the fall of 2019. I fell in November and broke my tailbone. Lost my balance in the bathroom and landed very heavy on toilet (#2). Then just before New Years I fell again. So I thought I was done, over, going to meet the new year free from that number three hanging over my head.

Nope, no way, not in the cards. I fell again on New Years Eve, face forward this time giving my poor tailbone some relief. But this time I was badly bruised all down my left side which scared my kids when I finally owned up and showed them. In the back of my mind I have to wonder if the next two will be more serious, because I firmly believed there would be more.

Number two occurred in the bathroom which I think is the most dangerous room in the home.  I wasn’t hurt but did make a mess as I knocked the shelf into the tub and everything went flying. Same room, I lost my balance and again hit the wall and rebounded to the toilet, missing the floor.

This time I had to be done, and oddly enough I was. Who knows, not me for sure, why I fell so many times in such a relative short time since I have not fallen since.

But the weird threes have still been happening. 

I make an instant breakfast drink every morning. My routine is to make my coffee, pour my juice, add the vile tasting stuff I take to it, and make my drink in the little blender.  I bought this piece of kitchen equipment because it was small and the blender part comes off and becomes a travel mug. Not that I travel, but it means one piece, one less glass to wash. 

There’s no variable speed and the button is right in front, just push it and it goes. Do you see what’s coming? I’m doing my routine but accidentally moved something on the counter, that hit the ON button, before I’d put the lid on, that whirled that milk all over my counter. What a mess.

I’m not so superstitious that I immediately begin counting when something like this happens. I only start the count with number two.

Because of my MS I can’t sit up for long periods. So after being up in the daytime I go to bed early in the evening. I live in a studio type apartment so my bed is like a couch to me. I have my iPad, my books, and my crochet. So I settle in for an evening of television with my bottle of Pepsi and am good to go.

Except that I got tired of taking the cap on and off and just left it off. And proceeded to knock the bottle which then emptied into the open drawer of my bedside table.  Caught it all, not a single drop on the floor. Lucky for me I had a organizer in that drawer, and each section was full, my carefully stored, nice and handy items floating in pop.

As spills go that was easier to clean up than the blender mishap.  Now I’m counting. One more to go.

Sitting up in bed, or semi reclined as is more often the case, is not conducive to drinking from a cup or glass. I drink water from a bottle, as I do my Pepsi. I try to avoid those cups and glasses because I tend to make a mess when it dribbles out the side. I need to add mug to that list.

I have suffered from a bad back for decades. Before this pandemic hit I was laid up, had sciatica and so much pain I could barely walk. The walker I used outside I had to use inside, even as small as my place is. At that time I also had a bedside rail installed to help me get in and out of bed.

(My back pain is so much better that I have to think that the falls and that broken tailbone actually did a readjustment of my spine lol).

I kept the bedside rail as it’s handy to lean my iPad against when I’m crocheting and watching a movie on prime.

Number three.  I had a coffee and was sitting in my chair, but needed to reference the crochet pattern on the iPad which was charging by the bed. I picked up the coffee and moved over to the bed. I’m reading the pattern and casually picked up my coffee, and not really paying attention, failed to clear the bedside rail, thereby dumping said coffee into the bed. This was a make work project as I got the sheets, the comforter and me. Still not a drop on the floor. 

It’s such a relief to get that trio of happenings done, and to feel pretty secure that I have no new countings on the go. 

Everything happens in threes, so beware. 

Grit my Teeth Math

 I always liked math, the regular math, not the new math and not fancy math like calculus or trigonometry.

And I was good at math. Hell, I do my tax returns without a calculator and some of that is tricky stuff. 

Since I enjoy word games I figured I’d like a numbers game too. Not. Not sudoku at any rate.

Why can I never finish a sudoku game? I get partway done, hit a snag, get irritated  and quit. 

It is so frustrating that this game has defeated me. Even worse now is this word whiz game on Facebook. I love words and consider I have a pretty good vocabulary yet I totally suck at this game. 

You play it in a group, though I play with one friend only, and she trashes me totally. 

Today I sent her a message. “I hate you and I hate this f**king game.”  She wrote back LMFAO.

I’m still playing. And I’ll still try the evil, demented sudoku puzzle when the newspaper arrives.

I’ll play but I don’t have to like it.

Faerie Tarot Cards

 

A number of years ago I bought myself a set of tarot cards, not for reading but for the art. There are so many possibilities on many different themes.

I was given a set that came in a beautiful box, cards plus a hardcover book on how to do a reading, including the meaning of each card. 

I found it this morning when looking on my bookcase for another book and was drawn to look at them. Kind of a “the faerie made me do it” thing.

I skimmed read the beginning.  Directed to spread the cards out face up, I was to pick the card that appealed the most, and the one that appealed the least.  The first, most liked card represents what I’m trying to create, the least appealing is a message from the universe.  

The first wants me to explore who I am, to discover parts of my talent and potential that have been hidden by old traumas, misunderstandings or lack of opportunity.  Funny that I just put my sewing machine away to get back to art. I haven’t painted in over a year. Not because of the pandemic but more to with with my falls last Christmas and a change in my health status. 

I’ve been using the art, photography and tutorials on Pinterest for inspiration. I usually do mixed media collage and was thinking I might give watercolour or pastels a try. 

The second card, my message from the universe, is telling me to lighten up. I’m to have more fun, be adventurous, try new things. 

I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason. There was a message for me in those cards, that I needed at this time. 

Think I’ll try watercolour first, try some new techniques, something different. LOL. We’ll see how it works out. 

Letting Loose my Mad

 I know my life must seem incredibly boring. I live alone during a pandemic, when we are directed to stay home. For the most part, I can handle that as I have my crafts and my books, and television.

My TV is always on even though I don’t always pay a lot of attention to it. For daytime hours it’s on the same station all day, the Discovery Channel. Not my usual as I’m a crime fan but it works.

The crime shows I watch are two back to back episodes of old CSI New York.  I realized as I caught myself giving my opinion, out loud, that I miss having that sharing conversation about issues from what ever show or movie I’m watching.

Most often it’s just a show, and other times it’s emotional impact is best discussed to relieve that emotion.

To better understand I’ll give you a quick overview. High school teacher is murdered in the science lab during a dance. Students phones are gathered and the computer geek on the team renders all those photos into a panoramic of the gym. The teacher is caught leaving the gym with a male student. 

They question the police chief’s daughter as she has had many meetings with said teacher, has had a drastic change in her behaviour and is seen at the dance.

Her father is irate she is questioned and interferes, not allowing her to be involved. But she is involved and they question her further. She asks to speak to the female detective and wants her father out of the room. 

You can probably guess what she has to say.  The assumption that the teacher had crossed the line was wrong. It was the student the teacher had followed out of the gym. 

Turns out the student was not 18 but a very young looking 28, and was smart enough to ace high school, both socially and scholastically.

He and the pervert acting as his father were a team, raping high school girls. Girls that dated the fake high schooler, were drugged by him before the team committed their crime. The girls had only vague memories due to the drug and were too embarrassed and shamed to come forward.

Back to the cop’s daughter. She didn’t want what happened to her to happen to another girl, and had seen the ‘boy’ put something in her drink. She tells the teacher, he and the boy go to the science lab where the team of rapists kill him. 

Our girl confesses all to the detective and they bring that criminal team in for questioning.  The police have them cold.  Their fingerprints show they are repeat offenders, and they show no remorse for their actions. 

Suddenly a shot is heard and everyone rushes down the hall to find the police chief has shot and killed the young man who raped his daughter. End of show.

And I am left with all this emotion and no one to release it all to.  So I thought of you guys so here goes.

That father is so selfish. Does he not realize that what he just did will add to the stress his daughter feels. She needs her father’s love and support but will be denied because the jerk will be in jail for murder.

He thinks he avenging her rape, but he’s not. He’s flexing his cop ego. His daughter was attacked and he knew nothing. All his experience as a cop did not clue him into the fact that there had to be a precipitating event that caused the change in his daughter’s behaviour. Was he not paying attention?

I think his ego made him do it. How dare that punk ruin his fantasy of his happy family. How dare he go after a cop’s kid. He makes me so mad I needed to work out why, and set it aside. 

We all want our children to grow up safe, to be successful, to lead happy and productive lives.  There’s a sort of pride in that, as if their accomplishments mean we, as parents, have done a good job and can rest easy. But it doesn’t always happen that way, and just to let you know, if you haven’t figured it out by now, parenting never ends.

This poor girl, (and yes I know it’s fiction, but all fiction is based on reality somewhere) must deal with that very personal attack that will affect her sense of self, her trust in others, her safety. And now, on top of that, she will carry the burden, the guilt, of her father’s actions. He has added to her trauma, and destroyed the family and any sense of safety and belonging she had there.

So he was an insensitive jerk, who killed that young man to satisfy his ego, with no thought to his future, the future of his family or the needs of his daughter. That’s why I was mad 

I feel better now I got that out of my system. Thanks for listening. 

Returning the Favour

 I was streaming and discovered a Facebook show starring Mike Rowe. I’ll admit I really didn’t know who he was, but recognized his voice from commercials I’d seen on TV, advertising his then show called ‘Dirty Jobs, on the Rowe’d Again’.

His voice is very distinctive and when I googled the show I learned he had been an opera singer. Surprise, surprise.  

So this new show, well new to me as most of the segments I watched were prior to COVID, is a paying it forward kind of thing. Mike and his crew travel across America looking for people who are unselfishly dedicated to their community and surprise them with cash, and usually supplies to help them keep their efforts going. 

The recipients are your plain, everyday kind of people who want to make a difference, and they did. This is a case of donating time and energy, rather than a donation of money for the tax benefit and then gone.

One show had a chef who was out of work as his restaurant was closed during shutdown. He realized many families were having trouble making ends meet, and putting food on the table was a major concern. He built a box at the curb in front of his house and filled it wth groceries. It operated like one of those mini libraries you see throughout some neighbourhoods where you can take a book, leave a book.

His program took off to where he basically ran a free store out of his garage as others started to support his endeavours. At the end of the program Mike Rowe and his team presented him with a cargo van painted brightly with the name of the chef’s pantry, the back refurbished with shelves and filled with groceries. There are usually corporate sponsors who generously give cash or supplies to keep things going.

Another was about a once single Mom who supported other single moms by getting them furniture and other household items. She got storage space and furniture. 

There was a policeman who road a bicycle through some of the hardest hit neighbourhoods in a large city. He made himself known to families, gave out sports equipment, bikes and bike helmets to kids that could never have afforded such items. What’s interesting is the policeman is white and the kids all of colour.

The list goes on and on. A feel good program that shows a side of America we don’t often see or hear about. 

It’s very unfortunate that when I googled Mike Rowe and the show, I read an article that said the show had been cancelled, quite recently and it seemed with no warning.

It’s too bad, I was just beginning to believe there was a different, more caring America than the one that fills the news. Way to go Mike.

Valentine Surprise

 I found a surprise in my mailbox yesterday. 

A small plastic bag with hearts all over it, and inside a pink, lightly stuffed, crocheted heart with a tag. A smaller heart was attached. It was given anonymously so I have no one to thank.

Many of my neighbours are older, isolated from family and friends. Many are not on the internet so even more isolated. This would have been an unexpected surprise.

It was a thoughtful gesture, one that was greatly appreciated. It has a small ring so it can be hung and I think I’ll hang it in my window for that generous person to see. ❤️

My Prickly Friend

 A few minutes ago I found myself apologizing to my prickly cactus. I was saying how sorry I was that I had not watered it, and thanked it for the ‘sharp’ reminder when I accidentally touched it.

Having a green thumb is not something I can lay claim to, inside or out. I always blamed the cats. Can’t have potted plants when the cats dig in the dirt. The fact that my gardening consists of periods of drought followed by a flood is immaterial.  

But my little cactus has lasted years. It sits on the table beside my chair and gets water when I think of it and the water is handy.

Maybe the plants are adapting to my ways, because the beautiful potted plant I got last Mother’s Day lasted through the summer heat right into fall. I was amazed, as a May gift of flowers never lasted beyond the August heat.

Times they are a changing.

So Sue Me!

 I broke the rules, shame on me, but it was so worth it. 

By the Covid-19 rules in Ontario, people were to stay home unless they were working or shopping for necessities, like groceries. A sort of...what’s in your bubble, stays in your bubble.  It’s been six weeks or so since this stricter lockdown was ordered on the day after Christmas.

Considering that there are a number of one person households, like mine, often with a (hate saying this) a senior citizen who may have special needs or maybe just needs a bit of help, along with some friendly words.

I haven’t left my place in all these weeks and for the most part have been content. I break the rules by associating outside my bubble with, how dare I, two other bubbles.  Each of my children have been by at least once a week and text often to ask if I need anything.

Today I burst the bubble and had a visit from two of my granddaughters, and the timing couldn’t have been better. I’ve felt like crap for days, and the sunshine has not been enough to lift my spirits. 

I have been crafting, of course. Asked to make four valentine gnomes for a friend, I made nine as I had too many ideas and thought there should be a choice. I have also make stress balls, Izzy dolls, and two pocket scarves of my own design. And not to forget the ‘Among Us’ hats and character dolls. 

Wanting to put everything on line to sell, I needed the girls to model the merchandise. They also helped me put stuff away on high shelves and in hard to reach cupboards so that my sofa is clear as is my worktop, except for my friendly gnomes.

That stuff was convenient but not important, because living with the bits and pieces of my various creative endeavours is normal. The clearing space an occasional necessity.

What I needed was the smiling faces, the quick and easy chatter, the love, the belonging and the needing and being needed in return.

I felt so much better after they left, for the visit, not for their leaving. So screw the rules. 

Strangely enough, we’d been talking about the current Facebook and how much it’s changed, and not for the better. I told the girls that it was through Facebook that I connected with an old friend, and lo and behold who called me this afternoon but that old friend. She must have sensed something (cue music, do do do do do do etc.).

Who would not be cheered up by these beautiful faces? I broke the rules, so sue me lol.

Lockdown continues

 We are still in a level of lockdown even though the kids have gone back to school in real time.  I know it’s been hard on them as kids are usually social animals and being home for an unknown length of time is hard on them, social media or not.

I am a solitary person, always have been, but even I miss real face to face interactions. I’m fortunate I have my family close enough to visit, even if it is just for a few minutes when delivering groceries or some other item I might be in need of.

Texting has replaced phone conversations and today when my cellphone rang I didn’t know what it was. My daughter was picking me up a few groceries in the store in her town, a store with great deals this week. She called from the store for verification on a few items, then called again as she made her way through the store 

After that I got to thinking and realized it’s been more than a year since I’ve been in a grocery store. Last winter I had my groceries delivered and have continued to use that service ever since. A few times in the summer I grocery shopped on line and did a curb pickup. It was nice sitting in the car with the windows down, the summer breeze blowing through, the sun warm on my skin. 

I miss looking at the variety of products on the store shelves, and being able to makes my choice. Often I knew products by sight rather than by name so rely heavily on weekly flyers for my selections. Online shopping sounds like it would be easier but there are too many choices and it’s tiresome to skip back and forth comparing prices, sizes and manufacturers.

When this ends (wishful thinking) and life returns to a new normal I don’t feel my life will change much. I’m afraid my tendency to be a loner has deepened almost to a fear of going out. I have everything I need here, all my books, my crafts, television plus my iPad which gives me the internet.  

Maybe it’s just winter that makes me feel that way. Our road is partially snow covered and it’s an added struggle to go out, pushing the walker I use for balance and support and hoping to hell I don’t fall. When spring comes, and it can’t be soon enough, I’ll probably feel different the first time I can sit in the sun and breathe the fresh air. 

Six more weeks, I think that’s what the groundhog predicted. I can manage that. I have a number of projects to finish before spring. 

Chadwick Boseman

 I was watching an old episode of CSI New York the other day, as I was crafting it was more listening to than watching, when a familiar voice caught my attention.  The show was from 2006, and the voice was that of Chadwick Boseman.

He was playing a minor character, a grifter on the street fleecing tourists with his shell game. A much younger version of the actor I had watched the night previously on Amazon Prime in the 2019 movie 21 Bridges.

I’m  a great one for watching the same movies over and over. It’s easier for me as I’m usually crafting and not giving it my full attention. I watched 21Bridges for the first time last summer, shortly before the actor’s sudden death in August. 

Only then did I learn that Chadwick Boseman was a famous and celebrated actor, known for his role as T’Challa, a Marvel superhero in the Black Panther movie. 

He had other memorable roles, playing the characters of Jackie Robinson, James Brown and civil rights lawyer Thurgood Marshall. I remember reading that he was heavy into preparation and research as an essential part of his actor’s process.

I’m not a movie goer, but tend to watch movies on television and now on line. So I am not up to date on what’s been filmed and by whom. And so I’m sorry to say that I never heard of Chadwick Boseman until his untimely demise. 

Everything I heard, and everything I read supported that this man was an incredible actor and an exceptional human being. 

He wanted to increase opportunities for black actors that took them out of the stereotypical role of African American thugs and gang members. He had delved into his own ancestry, back to Nigeria and was proud of his roots.

43 at the time of his death, his passing was a shock because he died of colon cancer, a disease he had been fighting for four years. While making these recent memorable movies he was undergoing cancer treatments unbeknownst to anyone.

I’m sorry I became a fan so late in his career, but will make up for lost time. He will live on in the characters he’s portrayed in film. His passing is truly a loss.

Ongoing Struggles

 For the past 10 months I have been getting my groceries delivered to my home. There was no cost for the first three months or so, and the delivery charge is reasonable for the service.

I ordered yesterday for a delivery today.  The order is placed over the phone so there can be the odd glitch in the process.

It may be quite rude of me but I don’t answer phone calls if I don’t recognize the name or number. I got such a call today and let it go to voice mail.  Then I listened to the message. The voice sounded old and frail, hesitant in speaking, confused.

Apparently my groceries were being delivered to the wrong unit number and the call was to verify.  This has happened before with other delivery services. But was this the driver calling? I called back and heard a sigh of relief. She lived in ‘A’ and I lived in ‘K’ so I can see how the mistake was made when I gave my address to the woman at the store. She had trouble hearing me, because I could hear all the store noise in the background.

I laughed to myself in my thinking that the delivery person was old and frail, but it has been students for the most part. 

Before the lockdown when we actually went into a store to shop, it was not out of the norm to find older people working. Especially in the coffee places, grocery stores or Walmart.

If a person wants to work for some extra money, to get out, to be with people, that’s great, more power to them. But if they’re working out of need, to makes ends meet then I sympathize with their situation.

Standing for hours on end, learning new skills and dealing with a public who may not be understanding or empathetic is a harsh reality for one’s later years. And I understand. 

I had been on disability for years, and when I reached retirement age my disability ended. I was going to have Old Age and CPP only. Plus some pension, but as I worked part time until my divorce there was only a twelve year span where I worked full time and earned pension benefits. I was very lucky to move into the complex where I still live where the rent is extremely reasonable.  

My heart goes out to those who struggle, and not just the older population. I had that same struggle as a single parent. 

During these tough times, with the threat of the pandemic, lockdowns and shutdowns, the struggle is real and ongoing with no relief in sight. Businesses have closed and kids are being home schooled. 

Stay strong everyone, stay safe.

Creature of Habit

 I’m a night owl, always have been. It’s an inherited thing that I got from my Mom that she passed on to my brother and I. It’s as if the peace and quiet of those late hours is our time, no phone calls, no unexpected visitors, family asleep. Creative time, I call it. 

That rationale may have worked years ago but has not applied for years. Living alone, my day is mine and I can do what I want, when I want. And I still live with wake time that is skewed from what others call normal.

I had a plumbing problem this morning and called the manager’s office to report it. The first thing she said  was “what are you doing up?”. My habits are well known. Out of consideration for the maintenance man’s busy schedule I wasn’t going to leave this job to late in the day. 

I can get up when I need to, if it’s important.

The sun was shining when I called the office, but now it’s just another dull winter day. That was my reward for getting up early.

That and the fact I can now go to the 🚽 bathroom. Another plus to my day.

Knit VS Crochet

 I was watching an old CSI New York the other day and was shocked, shocked I tell you, at the error I saw in their use of props. I worked in amateur theatre and know the importance of having the correct props in the setting and for items the actors hold.

I am an avid crocheter, as opposed to knitter, so the mistake I saw was so obvious I couldn’t believe someone on set didn’t notice the mistake.

The setting is a dog show, and one of the dog owners has been found murdered by a knitting needle. Now I understand why a knitting needle was used as a murder weapon, it’s long and has a pointed end on it. A crochet hook is shorter and has a blunt end. 

That is not what bothered me. The police are questioning the owner of the knitting needles and she explains that she knits her little dog show darling clothes and blankets and such. As she’s speaking she points to the blanket on her lap. ITS CROCHETED FROM GRANNY SQUARES!

I get that some knitting and crochet to the non needle worker might look similar. I have a daughter who constantly sends me posts from Pinterest with a “can you make this?” note attached.  I always respond that it’s knit and send her a post back of a ‘like’ item in crochet.

I guess I just thought that granny squares would be more recognizable.  I have an old afghan made by my great grandmother so knew the craft long before I ever tried it.

My brother worked in the film industry for decades. He told me once that there was a job that required that person to ensure continuity, especially necessary when scenes are not completed in one day or are filmed out of order.  This was more of a props problem and I am sorely disappointed that not one person saw the error.

Details, details, details.  Details are important.  I’ve said my piece and now my crocheter’s heart can rest easy. LOL

Amid the Chaos

 I was a nurse for many decades and often, after a rough day, someone would relieve the tension with some off colour or inappropriate comment that would make everyone laugh. It has been said laughter is the best medicine.

I’ve been watching the news, the ongoing coverage of the disturbing events that transpired in Washington on January 6th.  There was one interview with a Trump fan, others of that ilk in the background. The news  commentator described the hand signal one of the men was making, said it was meant to communicate, one white supremacist to another.  I thought it was just an OK sign. They quickly changed to a background to a picture of the White House.

Then I looked across the room to my bookcase where a 10 inch ceramic hand sits, a hand making the sign for OK. It was a gift from my brother, and I said it would remind me I was doing OK, as I was going through a rough patch at the time.

I texted him and our conversation went like this:

Me: Did you know you gave me a ceramic statue of the white supremes symbol?

Him: Who are the white supremes?

Me: Oops. Supremacists My phone doesn’t want me to say the word.

Him: Imagine perverting the OK sign like that.

Him: I ordered you a Confederate flag, should be there soon. Thought it would look nice in your window.

Me: I’ve missed your sense of humour.  That really made me laugh.

And a laugh was just what I needed to off set the frightening news from south of the border  

Weather Network

 Beside the fact we are currently in a COVID lockdown, I tend to be a homebody, especially in winter. Current conditions mean I get my groceries delivered and do a lot of ordering on line. 

In the olden days, pre pandemic, I would follow the Weather Network on line, to determine which days would be clear, as in no snow, no rain, presenting roads that are clean and dry before venturing out.

Now I have an early snowfall warning system that alerts me to any significant snowfall.  His name is Jim and he lives next door. We live in a small community made up of 4 and 8 unit buildings. Jim and I are on one side of our quad and share the same paved path from the road with the adjacent quad. 

During winter months I am frequently awakened by the noise of a shovel scraping against the pavement. From the cozy warmth of my bed I’m given notice that it’s snowed and feel free to burrow in, knowing I’m not going to be going anywhere. 

For years now, neighbour Jim has cleared the path and the area in front of all of our doors whenever the snow falls. He shovels early, and frequently throughout the day if necessary.  He is the rose to the thorns of his three, older female neighbours. A truly nice guy.

The property does have a manager who has a riding lawnmower type thing with a blade and he whips it through the complex cleaning pathways, the front patios plus parking areas. And the roads are cleared by a service so we are well taken care of. 

I’m just spoiled by Jim’s personal attention.