It has been quite the day already. Starting out with a passive aggressive little 'quip' referring to the aging of workers which on the surface seems innocent enough..even if I wasn't the oldest woman on the work roster and, if the person making the remark had not also mentioned offhandedly , the fact that Susan Boyle also had HER upper lip waxed....hmmm...are you sensing a pattern beginning to emerge?
I left work and proceeded into one of the grayest dismal days I have ever experienced in January . I got into my vehicle with not just a bit of bile rising in my craw at the aged Susan Boyle remark which would not have seemed so biting if I could even sing just the tiniest bit.
A nerve wracking drive home with windshield wipers clearing the rain drops away before they froze, as the drifts of snow licked the pavement as they crossed in front of me. Grinding my teeth and lifting my foot off the gas, I cautiously drove into the driveway only about 10 minutes later than usual...not too bad for an old crow...feathers and all.
As per usual, upon my arrival home, I sat down at the computer with a quick update on statuses, news, and obituaries..and then I saw it.
I don't know why the looking at the obituary column is such an important part of my mornings. Morbid curiosity? Idol interest? Search for fodder for gossip? Probably all of the above.
Today I learned more than I have ever wanted to know. A childhood friend was listed in the recent passings. A friend with whom I had played cops and robbers. A friend with whom I have ridden bicycles to the country school 5 miles a day in good weather, and with whom our families car pooled school transportation in the winter.
If I close my eyes, I can still feel the BUMP BUMP as my front tire and then my rear tire ran over my friend's back. We had been racing along a gravelled country road and he and his bike had fallen right in front of me. Before I could stop I had ridden right over him..lucky for us both he had fallen on his stomach, otherwise the consequences might have been dire indeed.
I remember being crowded into his dad's car, five of us, the smell of wet scarves and the itch of woolen mittens with the heater blowing on my feet as I looked out the window through those plastic window defrost shields.
I remember this friend's first week of Grade One..how he fought and cried as his mom and the teacher literally dragged him into the school to his desk every morning for the first week. It didn't occur to me from my elite Grade Three side of the room, how stressed and scared he must have been to put up such a struggle, and how much his mother must have worried about him throughout the school day.
No councillors then. No kindergarten either. One day you were playing free as the wind and the next you were forced into sitting at a desk, with a strange group of 'other kids' and a teacher whom you never had laid eyes on before.
Ball playing, wiener roasts, climbing trees, riding the horse bareback across the stubble so when we fell off it didn't hurt so much, crawling into grain boxes, hiding cigarettes in magpie nests, and the inevitable reminder of the 'back breaking' bicycle incident.. from which he claimed he never truly recovered. All these were discussed in the last few messages on Face Book.
I wasn't aware that he was even ill. I feel it must have come quickly. I hope he didn't suffer. I do not know what kind of man or parent he became, or hardly anything about his life between country school days and our encounter on Face Book.
But I do know he was a great playmate. A slight, little blue eyed, soft spoken boy, with a shy smile and deep dimples, who would allow a somewhat pushy neighbour girl be the TOP GUN. A quiet 'biker' companion, who would wait patiently at the end of the lane, after the Pig Tailed Creature would call out, "Hey , O.....Wait for me." I guess the risk of being late for school was overshadowed by the risk of her catching up before he got to school.
I feel that God is keeping him safe.
May God also keep me safe from the self-indulgence that allows someone's thoughtless remarks about age and lip hair interfere with the wonder of good health and the enjoyment of the gift of this day and all my days to come.
Blither
Monday, January 30, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Unicorn Talk
While listening to Tapestry from CBC Radio last night, I heard the phrase "terminological incongruity"...which describes something that only exists in conversation and whenever you try to execute the idea it ceases to exist. The speaker was referring to AA not being able to exist without the recognition of a Higher Power Greater Than Ourselves.
As I mulled over this idea it occurred to me that this phrase describes some concepts in life that have been difficult (for me) to adequately express....sort of like explaining what a unicorn is to a child...'Yes it looks and sounds like a horse..and yes there really isn't an obvious reason they don't really exist...except they don't and that's all there is to it.'
Therefore, I believe that the following are examples of terminological incongruity--
--Bad Chocolate
--Self-Serve Service Centres
--Rich Farmers
-- Safe Graduation Parties .
-- Gay Marriages
--Muslim/Black/Mexican jokes.
--Holiday Trees
If you have more please place them in the comment section .
As I mulled over this idea it occurred to me that this phrase describes some concepts in life that have been difficult (for me) to adequately express....sort of like explaining what a unicorn is to a child...'Yes it looks and sounds like a horse..and yes there really isn't an obvious reason they don't really exist...except they don't and that's all there is to it.'
Therefore, I believe that the following are examples of terminological incongruity--
--Bad Chocolate
--Self-Serve Service Centres
--Rich Farmers
-- Safe Graduation Parties .
-- Gay Marriages
--Muslim/Black/Mexican jokes.
--Holiday Trees
If you have more please place them in the comment section .
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Peer Pressure
Pssst....hey guy.....yeah YOU....yeah you're the one.
..when you're done come a little bit closer
...I got something to whisper in your ear.
Ok?
..shhhhhh...listen closely now......
....just because you pull over and get out and go to the back of the vehicle and turn your back to the oncoming traffic...
...does not mean...
....let me repeat
...does not mean..
...that the traffic behind you cannot see you what you are doing.
These privledged people also know three things about you.
1) That you must be incapable of listening to the signals from your own body
2) That you have little or no understanding of the theory of light and consequent vision capabilities of your fellow 'human?" beings
3) That you cannot read basic picture signs that are on the wall of any civilized garage along paved roads on the Canadian Prairies.
..when you're done come a little bit closer
...I got something to whisper in your ear.
Ok?
..shhhhhh...listen closely now......
....just because you pull over and get out and go to the back of the vehicle and turn your back to the oncoming traffic...
...does not mean...
....let me repeat
...does not mean..
...that the traffic behind you cannot see you what you are doing.
These privledged people also know three things about you.
1) That you must be incapable of listening to the signals from your own body
2) That you have little or no understanding of the theory of light and consequent vision capabilities of your fellow 'human?" beings
3) That you cannot read basic picture signs that are on the wall of any civilized garage along paved roads on the Canadian Prairies.
Now GO and pee where few men have gone before.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Stuff and Five Days
It has been five days since I have left the yard. It has been five days since I have been in a vehicle moving or otherwise. Its been five days since I have been in a store or post office, saw or talked to another person besides my husband, or gossiped on the phone (well nearly five days on that one).
Being in the same building for that long gives one a new perspective on one's surroundings and belongings.
I realize now that I probably will not have to buy any more towels, sheets, books, CDs, violin /piano/ mandolin music books, games, puzzles, dishes, beds, DVDs, radios, coats, mitts, tuques, scarves or blankets or silverware for at least 20 years.
My jewellery 'box' now consists of 3 large bread bags full of purchases from Ardene's and Lia Sophia...which seems a little ridiculous considering I only have one neck, and two ears and only two piercings.
There is also about 15 pots of fingernail polish and 10 lipsticks in my make- up drawer... plenty enough for 20 toes and two lips..Botox or no Botox.
The canned goods cupboard still can't hold all the merchandise . These, I would like to say, are therefore stacked , very carefully by color and size on the top of the cupboard.
I would like to say that but it would be a lie.
Cans of food and cases of Kraft Dinner -- note the demarcation between food and KD--adorn the floor beside the cupboard. There are two deep freezes--working and running-- full of meat, vegetables, and ice cream.
Nor will I have to purchase any cake/bread/meatloaf/ angel food cake/pizza/bundt pans, measuring cups, mixers (including whisks and wooden spoons), cookie sheets, tea pots, mixing /serving bowls, or crystal anything ever again unless I decide to open a wilderness bakery school.
All this new knowledge has also made me realize that I have really no reason to ever go into the realm of malls, markets or merchandising parties.
My cup and/or cupboards truly do runneth over.
I have more than I need and probably more than I really want.
Thus today's query is thus:
Caution ..please read all parts of the following words with care and due diligence..no 'sound shifting' or 'syllable missing antics permitted.
Am I a Hoarder? or Am I a Haver?
Hoarders and Havers have been horrendously harangued and hassled by hoards of hollering hillbilly hooters, therefore hastening the hauling of huge heaps of havings by the Hoarders and Havers from their homes heaped on high with huge helpings of highly unhealthy heaps of 'have to have' havings which have turned into hideous and horrible huge hovels of what some scientists refer to as humus (not hummus).
Being in the same building for that long gives one a new perspective on one's surroundings and belongings.
I realize now that I probably will not have to buy any more towels, sheets, books, CDs, violin /piano/ mandolin music books, games, puzzles, dishes, beds, DVDs, radios, coats, mitts, tuques, scarves or blankets or silverware for at least 20 years.
My jewellery 'box' now consists of 3 large bread bags full of purchases from Ardene's and Lia Sophia...which seems a little ridiculous considering I only have one neck, and two ears and only two piercings.
There is also about 15 pots of fingernail polish and 10 lipsticks in my make- up drawer... plenty enough for 20 toes and two lips..Botox or no Botox.
The canned goods cupboard still can't hold all the merchandise . These, I would like to say, are therefore stacked , very carefully by color and size on the top of the cupboard.
I would like to say that but it would be a lie.
Cans of food and cases of Kraft Dinner -- note the demarcation between food and KD--adorn the floor beside the cupboard. There are two deep freezes--working and running-- full of meat, vegetables, and ice cream.
Nor will I have to purchase any cake/bread/meatloaf/ angel food cake/pizza/bundt pans, measuring cups, mixers (including whisks and wooden spoons), cookie sheets, tea pots, mixing /serving bowls, or crystal anything ever again unless I decide to open a wilderness bakery school.
All this new knowledge has also made me realize that I have really no reason to ever go into the realm of malls, markets or merchandising parties.
My cup and/or cupboards truly do runneth over.
I have more than I need and probably more than I really want.
Thus today's query is thus:
Caution ..please read all parts of the following words with care and due diligence..no 'sound shifting' or 'syllable missing antics permitted.
Am I a Hoarder? or Am I a Haver?
 |
| The Hoffman Hovel |
Hoarders and Havers have been horrendously harangued and hassled by hoards of hollering hillbilly hooters, therefore hastening the hauling of huge heaps of havings by the Hoarders and Havers from their homes heaped on high with huge helpings of highly unhealthy heaps of 'have to have' havings which have turned into hideous and horrible huge hovels of what some scientists refer to as humus (not hummus).
PICK ME! PICK ME!
I just received an email from a fitness magazine that stated that I have been SELECTED....and of course in order to find out what I have been selected for I have to click onto the web site and read the fine print after I have been exposed to pictures and colored print designed to entice me to become a regular paid subscriber. This advertisement ploy is an old ruse to entice customers that has been in use since commerce has began. By making the target (would be customer) feel like they are special...they have been chosen...they are wanted... increases the chances that the customer will pay for whatever goods and services that are offered.
Of course, I realize that this email has been sent far and wide to thousands of people ; and by knowing that, I also realize that being selected in this case isn't really such an honour...not a big deal really. But to be truthful, it still made me feel just a little bit important, a little bit better, a little bit more special to have even a mass email tell me that I had been selected.
Am I that truthfully so needy? so pitiful? so lacking in self-esteem that a simple positive message from an obscure source could help boost my mood even for a few moments? Apparently so..but just as apparently then are many other people or otherwise the mass email wouldn't even have been sent.
So what point in this selection discussion am I trying to make? I suppose it is just that it is to bring to light that everyone likes to be made to feel special. Everyone likes to feel that they have been chosen or 'selected' like a piece of chocolate from the Pot O'Gold, for whatever reason, whether it is their skill, their personality, their innate talent...
...or maybe its just because of some of them are
NUTS!
Of course, I realize that this email has been sent far and wide to thousands of people ; and by knowing that, I also realize that being selected in this case isn't really such an honour...not a big deal really. But to be truthful, it still made me feel just a little bit important, a little bit better, a little bit more special to have even a mass email tell me that I had been selected.
Am I that truthfully so needy? so pitiful? so lacking in self-esteem that a simple positive message from an obscure source could help boost my mood even for a few moments? Apparently so..but just as apparently then are many other people or otherwise the mass email wouldn't even have been sent.
So what point in this selection discussion am I trying to make? I suppose it is just that it is to bring to light that everyone likes to be made to feel special. Everyone likes to feel that they have been chosen or 'selected' like a piece of chocolate from the Pot O'Gold, for whatever reason, whether it is their skill, their personality, their innate talent...
...or maybe its just because of some of them are
NUTS!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
I WOOD you KNOT!
Husband is busy outside sorting wood that is too long to get into the new fire burning stove....again...still.
The saga began about a year ago when the 'woodcutter' whom I shall refer to as 'He", as I am no Red Riding Hood and I no longer have a grandmother, nor are there any goodies in my basket ( if there were I'd have eaten them decades ago) and this ain't no fairy tale, bought a new wood burning stove.
'He' always has had two years worth of wood cut in in preparation for the winter's fuel stored in the wood bin and partially for future hedging against some time when wood cutting isn't possible, and partially for having the proper curing time for the most efficient burning for heat .
Unfortunately the opening to the new stove is about 5" smaller than most of the wood already cut , so a solution had to be found so that we (He) can use the seasoned wood before He is forced to use the newer green wood cut only a year ago.
Besides there is nothing quite so disappointing as on a cold minus 40C January night while filling the stove at 3 a.m., finding that a too-long-a- stick won't let the door shut and one has to quickly pull the stick out and put the now warm and sometimes glowing piece of wood into the washing machine and then close the door on the rising flames from what apparently is referred to as 'the fire dome'.
As cutting each piece with a hand saw beside the stove (and in the house) every time He came across a piece of wood that was too long had become an option no longer considered efficient due to dust / noise/ and labour, it was decided that the logs would now be measured at the SOURCE. That is to say, the chunk would be measured right at the wood bin, and if it was too long to go into the stove it would be relegated to being 'camp' wood."
That solution worked well until it was noticed that the 'camp' wood pile was getting higher than the 'stove' wood pile and the certainty that the winter is going to be longer than the seasoned wood.
What to do? What to do?
This is what you do...you build a bucking horse...'bucking' wood is when you cut it into small chunks and the thing that holds the wood is called a horse...hence...a Bucking Horse.
Woe to the one who wants wood for the winter without the wise wisdom to wonder if one can readily wedge the wanton wide wood into the width of the warmer . For without this wise wisdom, more work and worry will be warranted before one has a welcome and warm hearted winter's long rest.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Our Days and Yesterdays
Sitting listening to Galaxy Easy Listening Music...Our Day Will Come...Antonio Rossi &His Orchestra...Yesterday Once More.
The sun is beaming into the living room through one window and out another...no wonder birds often bump into the pane (pain) of glass.
I find it sort of ironic..'oxymoronishly'.. that the music entitled Our Day Will Come would be on an album entitled Yesterday Once More .
What does that exactly mean "Our Day Will Come'?...Does it mean riches, health, happiness in grand abundance never to be lessened.... to be had into -perpetuity? Or does it mean a day--one single day- without worry, stress, pain or regret? Let's hope it doesn't mean the inverse of the two, and if it does, I guess I can understand why the music would be on the album entitled Yesterday Once More..because then Yesterday would seem a whole lot better than what it actually was if the promise of the the song title ever came true.
But, if yesterday was to come again perhaps then our regrets would be lessened and our choices would be bettered . I think, however sad that it seems, it would more than likely leave us another opportunity to be like that bird flying into the 'windowpain' trying to get to where we are going by taking a short cut through Our Days to Come with even more disastrous consequences.
What I do know is that this day has come..a day full of sunshine and health and a feeling of well being As good a day as any yesterdays..and perhaps a better day than some that yet to be.
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=our+day+will+come+instrumental&sk=&mid=D7723961BC9B2B858ED6D7723961BC9B2B858ED6&FORM=LKVR17#
The sun is beaming into the living room through one window and out another...no wonder birds often bump into the pane (pain) of glass.
I find it sort of ironic..'oxymoronishly'.. that the music entitled Our Day Will Come would be on an album entitled Yesterday Once More .
What does that exactly mean "Our Day Will Come'?...Does it mean riches, health, happiness in grand abundance never to be lessened.... to be had into -perpetuity? Or does it mean a day--one single day- without worry, stress, pain or regret? Let's hope it doesn't mean the inverse of the two, and if it does, I guess I can understand why the music would be on the album entitled Yesterday Once More..because then Yesterday would seem a whole lot better than what it actually was if the promise of the the song title ever came true.
But, if yesterday was to come again perhaps then our regrets would be lessened and our choices would be bettered . I think, however sad that it seems, it would more than likely leave us another opportunity to be like that bird flying into the 'windowpain' trying to get to where we are going by taking a short cut through Our Days to Come with even more disastrous consequences.
What I do know is that this day has come..a day full of sunshine and health and a feeling of well being As good a day as any yesterdays..and perhaps a better day than some that yet to be.
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=our+day+will+come+instrumental&sk=&mid=D7723961BC9B2B858ED6D7723961BC9B2B858ED6&FORM=LKVR17#
Monday, January 23, 2012
Purses and Lipstick
Soooo...this is a blog eh? I've heard about them, even read some..but never before have I had my own..
.Puts me in mind of when I finally was old enough to carry a purse but at the same time didn't have any money to put into it...let alone know exactly when and where one was supposed to put on the lipstick that was an obligatory part carrying a purse. Money and lipstick, and tissue in a purse meant being grown up--I had finally made IT in my mind..little did I know then that there is way more to money and lipstick than just being able to carry them around in a purse. Nor had I realized how alike these two items are.
Both can be spread around..either thick or thin with varing results. Use too much / or too little of either of them and disaster can strike..staining and effecting your life forever..be it reputations or relationships.
The more I think of it the rite of passage now probably isn't a purse with money and lipstick...it probably is one's first Debit card along with one of those new glossy lip pots. Makes me wonder where people will keep their tissues after THEY have endured the trials of their modern modes of adulthood.
I lost that first beloved purse at the theatre in Lemberg..I was about 10..(no there wasn't lipstick in it then)...hard to imagine that 'someone' hadn't found it now that I look with adult eyes at the size of the building.
So ...is this what a blog is supposed to be?
.Puts me in mind of when I finally was old enough to carry a purse but at the same time didn't have any money to put into it...let alone know exactly when and where one was supposed to put on the lipstick that was an obligatory part carrying a purse. Money and lipstick, and tissue in a purse meant being grown up--I had finally made IT in my mind..little did I know then that there is way more to money and lipstick than just being able to carry them around in a purse. Nor had I realized how alike these two items are.
Both can be spread around..either thick or thin with varing results. Use too much / or too little of either of them and disaster can strike..staining and effecting your life forever..be it reputations or relationships.
The more I think of it the rite of passage now probably isn't a purse with money and lipstick...it probably is one's first Debit card along with one of those new glossy lip pots. Makes me wonder where people will keep their tissues after THEY have endured the trials of their modern modes of adulthood.
I lost that first beloved purse at the theatre in Lemberg..I was about 10..(no there wasn't lipstick in it then)...hard to imagine that 'someone' hadn't found it now that I look with adult eyes at the size of the building.
So ...is this what a blog is supposed to be?
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