Sadie Hawkins' Day

Sadie Hawkins day has never been a very successful day for me..nope..not ever.  In fact any day where I was put in a situation where  flirting, charming, and sashaying were expected, I was a dismal failure.  Before you ask yourself the inevitable question of "Why am I not surprised?" let me describe a few instances of my failure as a  Junior/Senior High vamp and/or love goddess of the Prairies.


Some girls could  just BE and boys would glom on to them like bark on a tree.  All these 'girls', I  privately referred to them as chickypoos, had to do was ARRIVE  in the dance hall  with their  cashmere sweaters, flipped hair, flawless skin, and snazzy pale pink lipstick, and  there would be sort of little moan from the stag line .  You  would see  little black combs being pulled out and ties being straightened;  all the while  the smell of breath mints would gradually waft over the dance floor.

What did these girls have that I didn't? I would wash and curl my hair , brush my teeth , shave my legs,  and tweeze my eyebrows (mostly all before I actually got to the dance) and STAND around. 

You've heard of wall flowers...while I was more like a wall dandelion.  .I can only think of ONE time at a school dance that I actually got asked to dance. All I can really remember about the 'incident' was that I was taller than the fellow .  I was eye level with  his brushcut hair standing on end and the  smell of  hair gel lofted into my nostrils leaving a permanent memory  so that whenever I see hair cream on  grocery shelves  the song "Its My Party"  runs through my mind for the rest of the day.

If  I   ever tried to actually flirt with someone it would fall flat..flatter than  my ...ummmm ...I shall say hair sprayed kiss curls. 

For example :
Me (to nice looking boy)--You got your hair cut.

Boy:  Yeah

Other girl:  You got your hair cut.

Boy: Yeah. Wanna dance?

or

Me: (то football hero) Gee you played football really well today.

 FB Hero: Yeah. 

Other girl:  You played a good game today.

FB Hero: Wanna dance?

I would in desparation 'sashay' over to the stag line and say : "Hi fellows."

 I'd get some comment like , "What are you doing here?" or "Well..if it isn't one of the Dixon brothers!" or "Can we borrow your truck?"

Yep, some girls had  ''IT" and I most definitely did not.

 Did it matter then?  Yep, most definitely. 

Does it matter now?   Моst definitely maybe not.
                                    

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsYJyVEUaC4

Step Four

Step Four
Made a Searching and Fearless  Moral Inventory of Ourselves


This one will probably make you cry hot angry self-righteous tears of regret and embarrassment. 

This step doesn't allow us to focus on anyone else but ourselves.  We do not think about who did or said  what horrible thing to us .  This is totally our journey and no one else's.  Its success and /or failure is due to our  choices and is not incumbent on anyone else's opinion or attitude.


  We have to look at every motive, character flaw and attribute.  Like good owners  of a hardware store we are going to examine every part of ourselves ...the good and the bad.

We can start by revisiting  some instances where there has been strife or conflict and examine our part of the problem.  We have to ask ourselves what part did we play in the situation that made it worse? What boundaries did WE break when we yelled, criticized, threatened, manipulated, or tried to control with our anger?

This step requires that  you take a piece of paper and faithfully write down any character traits that you can identify as being part of your own personality, both the good and the bad.  There should be quite a few ..more than ten for each I suspect for a good honest start.

The following are some character words that you might draw upon in making up your list.

critical, impatient, controlling, judgemental, superior, prideful, fearful, irresponsible, dishonest, manipulative, dramatic, sarcastic, unkind, thoughtless, rude, presumptuous, arrogant, pompous, ignorant, stubborn, procrastinate. daydream, brag, belittle, obsess, blame, aggressive, lie, unforgiving, etc.

And the more positive...

kind, loving, generous, thoughtful, pleasant, even tempered, responsible, faithful, accepting, tolerant, humble, honest, calm, easy going, prompt, practical, conscientious, polite, forgiving,  etc.

Don't be surprised that if  when you are doing the inventory  you find yourself listing mostly  the negative characteristics..   I think the fact that we can more readily list negative characteristics  is part and parcel of why we allow ourselves to get in the situation we are in in the first place.  Living in dysfunction requires low self- esteem.

 People who like themselves and know their worth seldom let their lives become so unmanageable because they can more easily identify when something is wrong and are  more sure of the need to correct it.  That is also why I bet many of us felt  embarrassed  when we had to list some positive traits because inside we don't believe we are good enough.

Here's a little test for yourself:

 Go to the mirror and say to yourself out loud.."I am Wonderful".

 Then go to your friend, child, or spouse and say it to them and have them say it  back to you.  I suspect that the younger the person the faster and the more genuine will be the "I Am Wonderful".    Young people haven't been carrying around as much negative self talk for as long a time as we adults have.

It might not be a bad idea to write down that little negative phrase that  runs through your head  (I know you have one because we all do), and have it ready for the next step along with your list of character traits ...the good and the bad. 

Step Three

Step Three :

 Made a Decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of  God as we understood him.

In the first step we acknowledge that we are living a crazy life.  Crazy because we try to control, for example, another person's crazy lifestyle, our own, or a complete stranger's, our children's, other people's children, the dog down the street, and possibly even  the next door teenager's hairstyle.   

In the second step we come to a conclusion that there must be Someone who can help us as we can not find our way out of our crazy life by ourselves. 

When you take the  third step you may think you  are giving up a lot. You  may think you are giving up control over other people, your addictions, your friends, your family and your co-workers.  If you think that , then you are wrong because in fact you never had control over any of those things in the first place.

  I want you to imagine what you would look like if I told you to go try to control the wind.  You would say that I am the crazy  one for asking you to do that.  If  you did go out and try to run a round blocking the wind ,trying to catch it, to slow it down or speed it up ,you would soon realize that that is impossible.  You would invariably look like a fool trying to do it.

That is exactly what most of us have done when dealing with  the unhealthy crazy situations in our lives..we have been as effective and  as crazy looking  as  someone chasing  the wind.

 This Step says that we  now know that we have to let Someone Else do their job.

 Its Time.

Step Two

Came to Believe That a Power Greater Than Ourselves Could Restore Us to Sanity.

The first three words of the second step 'came to believe' means there has been a CHANGE in the participant and not in anyone or anything else in the participant's life.

It does not require you to become an evangelical bible quoting convert full of humble forgiveness and love for all mankind...although that would work too if you have a bent towards that lifestyle

So what does this business of believing in a Power Greater Than Ourselves involve?
   It is like you have turned a key to  a door to  a part of yourself that you have kept shut for too long . It may be a room in your heart that you have forgotten about, or had thought you lost while trying to exhaustion to make changes in the crazy world around you.  Believing is like taking that key and putting it into the door and turning because you are allowing yourself to hope there is something better behind that door...finally.   

What was that reference to restoring us to Sanity? Sanity implies healthy living as a result of good choices both emotionally , financially and spiritually.
 Where is the sanity when you are-- waiting up in the middle of the night waiting for your drunk/drug addict/ meth user/ filanderer to come home?--run out to the garage looking for used cigarette butts to smoke?--lending money you can't afford to lend ?--you think you have the right to make comments about the name someone has chosen for their newborn, or the dress someone is wearing, or comment to a stranger as to what they have in their grocery cart?

This believing that we will become sane again helps us look to the future with optimism and hope that sunshine will return to our world.

                                                       

Step One

1. We admitted that we were powerless over  alcohol .... and that our lives had become unmanageable.


The above statement is Step One of any  Twelve Step program. The word alcohol can be substituted by anything that a person may try to have control over.  

By the term 'anything' that means just that ..anything.  Anything can be your mother, your father, your friend, your in laws,  your professor, your boss, your co worker, your customer,  your drinking, your gambling, your smoking, your eating. the guy driving in front, behind, or beside you, your dog, your cat, your children, or your disease. 

 I believe some indicators  that your life is unmanageable  are if you  lie   awake  at night  reliving all the slights and wrongs done to you during the day,  eat or hide  things in the  basement , car, garage, attic, or crawl space , and have at least once in the past week  yelled at a store clerk, teacher,  government worker, or pedistrian on the street.

If you have the telephone numbers of the police, social worker, mental health councilor, credit card issuer, as well as the Liquor Delivery Taxi memorized to the tune of God Save the Queen you have  issues that need to be addressed.

Another clue to unmanageability might  be indicated when  your  friends find excuses to change the subject, hang up, or walk away whenever your ' issue ' comes up in the conversation. If you are on anti depressants, mood stabilizers and sleeping pills all at the same time and you still find life to be 'high paced" Step One might be just what you need. 


An that's Step One in a nutshell.

FYI..that would be a non addictive, fully paid for, and totally legal nutshell.

    

Did You Get Any Change? revised

God Grant Me the Serenity to Accept the Things I Cannot Change

The Courage to Change the Things I Can

And the Wisdom to Know the Difference

This little prayer is a part of the opening of the myriad of Twelve Step Meetings around the world.

Change is   used twice in this prayer. Once it is described as something that can be controlled and once it is described as something that cannot be controlled.  So  what is with that?  What kind of concept is it that   it is both controllable
and uncontrollable ?  
We worry about things that might change.  We worry about things that have not  changed.  We lament and yearn for the things that do change. 

What really never changes is that we worry that nothing will change.   In effect, we worry that the most  absolute certainty that exists wouldn't happen.

We sometimes don't want things to ever change..and as surely as we change our socks (hopefully and in a timely matter) things  will change. We lose sleep, money, our health, and general well being because of change or the lack thereof. 

 Friendships, business partnerships, and relationships are all developed with some sort of preconceived notion by all involved that something will change...or, conversely, something will never change. It is when that unmentioned expectation is not met that people  start to worry and wring their hands .  It is when this 'change of contract' occurs, people  begin trying to control and manipulate change in their friends, families, and place of employment causing consternation, hurt feelings, and all around chaos.

Change cannot be pushed,  pulled, pressured or pleaded with. It comes on its own timetable, with its own agenda, with its own life lesson purpose , and is as natural and as necessary  to the well being of the world as the air we breathe. 


No wonder we who fret, pace,  and  wail at circumstance 'beyond our control' often look haggard and weary compared to those  who take things as they come,  who are accepting of others, and look forward to  seeing what the next day will bring.


Because  one   thing that we can change is ourselves,  I think it is time I change  into someone that will make everyone more comfortable.

 

B-r-e-a-t-h-i-n-g

http://theofleury14.com/2012/02/22/victim-impact-statement/




Thirteen.
   Alone.
       Home. 
          After School.
                Boots Hidden.
                    Dog Barking.
                        Closet.
                            Knocking.
                                Door Opening.
                                    Calling.
                                        Quiet,
                                            Quiet,
                                                Quiet .
                                                   Door Closing.
                           
                          B-r-e-a-t-h-i-n-g

                                                        Until Tomorrow. 

Oven Sweet Oven

My oven is very , very, very old...like 30 + years old.  It is part of the stove and fridge combo that 'the bride never chose'.

 Nope, I did not get to choose what turned out to be my 'lifelong stove'  because my 'lifelong husband' and his father took the initiative, and  the wedding money , and the truck, and went to Yorkton , and  bought the stove,  and installed it , all by the time I (aka the bride) came back from a day of work.

 If that was a run on sentence it is nothing compared to the sentences that have run on and on and on whenever the stove/bride subject comes up in conversation.

The worse thing about this stove is that it has one of those black  all glass oven doors that magnifies every spot of dirt by about 100x..

  The best thing (I thought) about this stove is that it has a 'self cleaning' oven...only trouble is it really isn't.   I am always a bit hesitant of actually using it  because anything that one has to 'lock down' and have heat up to 500 degrees Celcius is just too much like the recipe for a fire  for my liking.  As a consequence of this hesitancy, my oven cleaning sessions have gotten farther and farther apart until  it has been at least 5 years since I actually used the self cleaning feature.   That statement  should conjure up some  sort of vivid imaginings of the condition and colour of  the inside of the oven, even by die hard non baking  people with or without the oven light working (which it doesn't). 

In short..and even in long..my oven is a mess.  This messiness is matched only by the top of the stove.  The shiny paper that once covered the 'faux' silver knobs  has peeled off  only to show the dull gray plastic underneath.  Of course, the non digital clock has long ago ceased to give the correct time and therefore, any oven timer feature has long been a thing of the past.  The burners have all been replaced numerous times along with the rings that surround them. 

I think the most age telling of the whole stove is the fact that the metal part underneath the big burner has completely rusted away.   This is  from  countless containers of   boiling water  overflowing from coffee making, potato boiling, palt making (see note), and pasta preparation . 

 There is now only the soft itchy insulation beneath the  big burner where once there was a metal panel to separate the oven from the stove. Thus  another reason not to start  up the fire bomb of cleanliness.

Yes, most people would replace this 'lifelong' stove  with one that has stainless steel outside,  ceramic burners, convection capability , and an above stove fan. The replacement perhaps would include, dream of dreams, an oven that is placed in the wall permitting eye ball level checking of contents and doneness. 

I really don't know why I just don't take the initiative, and my money, and  the  truck,  and drive to Yorkton,  and buy a  stove, and get someone to install it, all before my husband gets home from work.  It might be because I know it so well.  I know just where to turn the knob so the potatoes won't boil over, I know how long it will take for a batch of bread to bake, and I know which burner to use when boiling syrup for puffed wheat cake.

Actually my 'lifelong' husband is not unlike my 'lifelong ' stove because even with all his faults I know just when to cool  him  down and at the same time  to get him in hot water. 

That old stove is not unlike our  30 year marriage itself..a bit marked up  and scorched ,  time has no meaning, and even if the  light in the oven doesn't  get turned on as often as it used to (wink), things can still heat up pretty quickly creating  a warmth that only those who love the sweet  and savoury can appreciate.

Sometimes I have no shame...no shame at all.  

.note. Palt is a Swedish  dish made of flour and ground potatos boiled for 45 minutes in a roaster on top of the stove.

Space Cats

I just read in the news that John Glenn orbited the earth three times 50 years ago today on February 20, 1962.

I can remember feeling really scared or perhaps the correct word is terrified for Mr. Glenn as I listened to the live broadcast, especially during the time when he went through the atmosphere and there was a silence while the world waited to hear his voice. I am also under the impression that ground control also lost contact with the astronaut when he  orbited to the other side of the world. No one actually KNEW for certain that the missile or the astronaut would survive the flight, the re-entry, or the ocean landing. Exciting times for sure.

I was nine years old then.    It was good fortune for the 15 pupils in my little prairie school to have a teacher who recognized the significance of  the event and therefore allowed and encouraged us to listen to this North American First on the very modern and newly purchased  red  electric radio.  It had only been within the last four years that the school had even gotten electricity.  I distinctly remember the clay piles that surrounded the new power poles with the guide wires that we used as part of our playground equipment..sort of a 'sliding' skin the cat game (see note).

But getting back to the topic of 50 years of space travel, it is hard to overestimate the significance of that day for the future of the world.  Scientific discoveries in all of the earth sciences virtually , a word (I dare to suggest) whose meaning and  common usage  has even changed  , exploded  due to  this   unprecedented interest by not only  by world  governments but also the world's education system.  No country wished to be left behind. It was the time when suddenly it was feasible for people to actually become space travellers, something only before relegated to the Superman Space  Comics.

I personally followed the space program faithfully primarily through reading the daily paper at school. My Dad had it delivered to the school at noon and I would get to read it 'hot off the press' before he even saw it at the farm supper table.   That newspaper was never quite folded  'right' by that time as everyone in class would have had their own look at the latest news.   I could have told you during any Algebra or Gym class in my senior high school years,  when an Apollo space ship was to fire a retro rocket and when and where splash down was to happen.

The Space Program was very controversial even in Canada. Our Department of Education  Grade 12 English Examination included the following essay :  Discuss the pros and cons of space travel in our society.  Give examples of both points of view and using those points  develop a reasonably logical conclusion.   Humph..a lot  to ask from a 17 year old prairie girl who had never even  been in a plane and whose only experience with the stars were the falling ones she observed while sitting in a grain truck  late at  night during harvest.

No doubt it isn't really 'newsworthy' that my generation experienced  great change. Everything  everywhere is in a constant state of change whether its due to technology, politics or world disasters.  All I am saying is that Mr. John Glenn will always be part of my little Grade 4 heart as I am sure  the likes Justin Beiber and  Prince Harry  will be a part of today's little Grade 4 girl's memories.

Oh yes..the essay question.  I wrote in FAVOUR of the Space Program.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-17107817






note:  Skin the Cat is an acrobatic feat that involves hanging on  with two hands to what usually is a rod suspended  across a grain bin (or guide wire). The person then flips their body through their arms nearly ripping their shoulder joints out of their sockets and then flipping back again. (I could never do it properly.

Time in a Bottle

This time too shall pass...

This little phrase is one that my mother  often used. Whenever someone's situation was not what was wanted or expected Mom would come out with this sage piece of advice.

I used to think that that phrase was sort of my  own personal  own 'golden rule',  but now I am not so sure.

 Yes, I can say this to someone who might have the flu, or a parent who is having some difficulty with a teenager, or someone who has just hit a deer while driving to work with their car.  All these times surely do end...people heal, teenagers grow up, and cars go to auto body shops.

Just as surely as this phrase is true for most happenings in the rich culture found in North America, I would say that the antitheses of this phrase is more surely true for the rest of the world.  

This Time Will Never End is and has been the truth for untold masses for eons.  This means that if you were born in an alley in Rio de Janerio statistics show that you probably will die in that  same alley at an age  several years younger than someone who lives in the US or Canada.

This Time Will Never End concept is even more meaningful to someone born with a deformity, an example being a twisted spine that causes daily pain,  living in the Congo jungle. 

It can also  mean that if you are an illiterate woman  in the third world, the chances are that your children, especially your daughters, will NOT live their lives any differently from the drudgery and servitude that you have endured for the duration of the  'foreverhood' of  your life.

I think that the truthfulness of  This Time Soon Shall Pass is not necessarily a sage piece of advice  for the majority of the world.
 It seems that it is  actually no more a solution to any real problem  than an antacid  cures the cause of gluttony that has become so prevalent in our own culture.

Perhaps instead of saying  'This Time Too Shall Pass',  we who live in the the 'have ' parts of the world   should  be  praying  'May This Time Never Cease.'
                                            

            

I have been told that if you hold this up to your ear you can actually hear the 'Sands of Time' passing by. 

Of Course!

It humbles me completely. The idea of being a newbie (which I am 100%) irks me so much - that feeling drives me to work harder.

The above statement was taken from my daughter's blog. 

 At first  I wasn't sure   whether being irked by not knowing something is a product of being humbled; but after some consideration I think  there is truth in the statement.

I never thought that taking Bronze Swimming Lessons at age 33 with a group of fifteen year olds   as being anything but exhausting and dangerous, but I suppose it was humbling. 

 I never thought being enrolled in French Language Courses at the age of 37 anything but frightening , but  yes, I suppose it was  humbling. 

I do know that taking fiddle lessons for the first time a couple of years ago , with a 5 year old,  and a 13 year old in the same class, definitely became humbling  as well as irksome.

I like the idea of learning something totally new to expand my limited horizons so I embarked on a search on the World Wide Web    for interesting courses  and activities that might be available  on line . 

The possibilities seem endles and these are only a few that I found interesting.

Some might say the I would benefit from this as long as I took all 12 lessons.

Another possibility...

And on a different note  although I am thinking a little more equipment would be required.

The learning curve might be a bit steep in this case. 

 And of course there are always the more riske types to explore.

    I didn't know they actually named them...jeepers.
That has to be the weirdest cover /title combination ever!
I think I am  now actually TOTALLY confused....LOL!
If they were the crabs I first thought they were no WONDER they had  a  correspondence course on them..

Live like you are going to die tomorrow.
Learn like you are going to live forever.
                 ...anon         

Baby Bump

My friend is celebrating their sixtieth birthday today.  This actually shouldn't be all that surprising as there were more people born in 1952 than in any other time in the history of the world--the biggest Baby Bump ever. So  if you are lucky enough to be celebrating any birthday this year it is liable to be your sixtieth. 

     Sixty is considered a milestone in our culture.  For one thing, one can apply for Early Canada Pension, qualify for discounts on bus tours , and finally, one can truthfully cash in on some Senior Discounts  ( at least  at some stores and restaurants on certain Tuesdays if you happen to be in the city that day).  Heck one might even get to be 'carded' again.

 Sixty is  also the qualifying age where one can join the local Senior Citizen's Centre. You  may be  familiar with that  social group  in most prairie towns that  usually meet in a renovated abandoned store on main street.  It can often be identified as the building with the  hand stenciled "Do Drop In", "Happy Horizons", or "Pioneer Lodge" signs hanging askew in  blind drawn windows.  Hallowed ground for some. 
These buildings are  the haven of shuffle board tournaments, whist drives, and late-evening/early afternoon  polka / dance parties (depending upon the ethic origin of the community).   The 'Senior's' has always been the  place in town to celebrate  40th/50th/and 60th Anniversaries.   These are only some of the rare times that 'youngsters' are ever allowed inside to view the press board wood panelled walls, orange /brown patterned carpet, and dine on 'beef on a bun'  at fold down tables covered in plastic flowered oil cloth.

People refer to the 1960's as an era of upheaval in terms of social,  cultural and moral values.  One can only guess what the effect of these new '60s' will have on Senior Centres wherever they exist.  Will there be a mass influx of Disco Dancing on laminate flooring? PacMan/Nintendo tournaments? Midnight Vegan Socials?   The possibilities are as  limitless  as the money to be made in stocks in adult diapers, false teeth, and arthritic medication. 

         Best Wishes to all who celebrate their 60th birthday this year. 

 You just wait and see...

the Best is yet to Be! 

    

                                              Psst..           If you can't read this ,  you might be 60.

No Stereo Please

My husband is a trained electronic technician . He graduated  with a Certificate in Radio TV Electronics.  He even graduated with an ADVANCED standing because he  had training in the repair and maintenance of Video Cassette Recorders ..aka VCRs.

Believe it or not that little Certificate actually has brought him respect and admiration from a  small but certain 'segment' of society that still enjoy and rely on their VCR to record their favourite programs from their satellite receiver. 

The other day while my husband was at work I received a phone call from one of these 'segments' who still relied on  the digital clock on their VCR to tell them when their favourite program would begin and when it was time to pop in the tape.  Shortly after  I realized who the caller was ,  I  knew that the conversation  was going to involve some high tech gadgetry and that I would be calling my husband  to tell him to stop off on his way home to  help these people with their VCR.

Upon arrival at the home of said  'segment'  my husband found that the VCR did not have a remote that would work with the TV.. He explained  that  a new VCR  was required, even if the one they had was only eight years old.

 The next day at approximately the same time  in the afternoon, the telephone rang again and once more it was the 'segment' calling to  tell me that they had just got back from the city where they had purchased  a new VCR from the  only store that carried them. They needed my husband to come and help them set it up. 

 Which he did, while listening to comments like:  "What no clock?", " Don't make it stereo..such a buzzing in my ears...that mono sound is good enough.", and " I wish a person just had a 'pull on/push off' button on televisions instead of remotes." "Oh, that's the way the batteries go in."   

I told my husband not to mock or judge because someday  we might be considered some sort of 'segment' and that bright young man who lives down the road from us might have to come and help us operate the telephone, Internet, computer, and possibly even the toaster.. 


Oh yes, my husband got paid-- 



Two dozen brown  eggs from the 'segment's' own  free range chickens (well as much free range as February will allow)--no high tech remotes involved.
          

                                            

Valentine's Day

I guess if one has to choose between like and dislike of the day I would say I don't really care for it primarily because I resent the fact that at one time I did care.  I cared desperately.  Whenever February 14 would come around I felt shut out, hopeless, lonesome and oh so  'undesired.' 

That's the trick the Valentine day marketers like you to fall for. Do people not realize that we are being manipulated by people who just want our money? 
These master  manipulators prey on our own inner self-doubt about our worthiness and  what  seems to be universal low self-esteem. It is as if they have some sort of connection to those mean little inner whispers of self talk that we all have  running just beneath the surface of our public facade.

I was sans Valentine for many many years.  I suffered the angst of loneliness and of being the 'undesired' and 'unchosen' until I just got fed up with feeling that way.  It was only when I decided  that I didn't need to have someone to  'complete' me  that I bought my own house, my own deep freeze,  my own car.   I even travelled overseas alone.  I dressed how I wanted, did my hair how I wanted, and pretty much lived a life of freedom and personal growth.

Then I met  the man who would become my husband. It was NOT twitterpation at first sight,  although the relationship from the get go was a  relaxed and natural friendship based primarily on respect.  There was no neediness, angst, or self consciousness involved.  I suspect the reason for that was because we both were sure of our own self-worth.  We both knew that we would be  and indeed already were 'ok' without the other.     

 After being married a considerable length of time I can pretty much say that I do have a Valentine.  After so many years I can also pretty much say I have an Easter Bunny, a Leprechaun, a  Thanksgiving Turkey ,  an April's Fool , and a Prince Charming all wrapped into one lovable albeit human life partner who happens to be my husband .

"As soon as you don't need to have someone, you will have someone..even if it's yourself. And there isn't anything better."...plhoffman

Dare to Dream B's Dreams

I have had several roommates during my lifetime.  For a few months there were six nineteen year olds living on the same floor of an apartment block.  Most  were from the same background as myself.   Young women coming to the city to start out their lives spending time---getting training, finding jobs, saving money for cars and travel, and , of course,   looking for boyfriends.

One of these roommates had an uncanny ability to talk about her dreams in such detail that it would make one wish that  you had been the one to experience such excitement and adventure...until the realization set in that 'No, this is only B's dream'.

  My but she could make it sound interesting--using different voices and actions to help animate the whole totally fabricated incident.  She would be exhausted after telling it--and sometimes even a bit angry or hurt at  various people for whatever they did to her in the plot of her dream.

  You never really knew if you were to apologize, or laugh,  or look suitably embarrassed  after her rendition of some slight you might have so totally (and I don't think this word will have ever been used more fittingly) INADVERTENTLY performed in her dream.

These  early morning  dream tales certainly gave something for one to think about on the long and boring bus ride to work.

I  myself had a wonderful dream last night.  Lacking the gift of B, I know that  no matter how I would try to portray it,  the joy I felt  could never be adequately described.  I not only held this person, but I could feel them and even smell their hair.  It was truly GLORIOUS.   

I wonder.. if I told B about the dream and she 'slept on it" then maybe ...just maybe I could relive it again through her interpretation? 
                                               ...probably not.

Probably not any more possible than the animals on television being able to hear the barking of our dog in the living room.... another untellable story  ....                                
                                                  ....perhaps.
                                                                               

Wagons HO!

I am on a quest for a little red wagon.  You know--that metal  kind with  with the long black handle and white and black wheels.

The kind that a kid or two  can sit in with at least three dolls or a toy tractor, while Mom pulls it down the road .  In my case it was a gravel road... not quite as comfy or quiet a ride  as those guys  in the city had  being pulled around on sidewalks and pavement, but the wonderful feeling of  being given a ride to somewhere would have been just the same.

 Some of the best wagons times  happened when someone would push  the wagon from behind  with one or two people  sitting in it.  Someone steered with the handle turned backward like a rudder--  until the 'driver' would turn too short and dump everyone out onto the ground.

I did pull my wagon to my grandma's one day...only two and half miles. Somehow it seemed to make more sense to pull it than to try to use it like a sit down scooter.  I guess even at the age of five I realized that that scooter business was only good for the city kids...still is actually.

For some reason I don't really remember our wagon ever being very RED.  More of a rust colour really which was a result of being left out in the rain and snow. That and having been used to haul , leaves, stones and potatos off the garden (a reveal from whence I got my gardening skills ).

 I do recall that  the wagon wasn't much good for carrying cats...especially ones dressed up in doll clothes.  Isn't it odd that a cat can sleep for hours in the sun by the window, but the minute a kid puts baby clothes on it and sticks it in a wagon it won't sit still for even a second?  Nope, cats just do not make good cargo.  I  notice, however, that there are  fancy enclosed  plastic wagons  available now so the new generation might be more successful in transporting 'baby' cats to and fro.

http://www.poems-and-quotes.com/misc/poems.php?id=777162

Love Quote

‎#LOVE QUOTE: “I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” ~ Mother Teresa

The above statement popped up on my FaceBook from the Canadian Bible Society.

 I can't believe that I am going to challenge not only the Canadian Bible Society but also probably the closest person to an angel that has walked this earth since   Jesus...but I am.


LOVEly as it sounds..I do NOT  believe that a person is supposed to love until it hurts.  Nothing good hurts, and if it does hurt it certainly isn't LOVE and it isn't because of LOVE, or a result of LOVE.  Its more than likely the result of whatever is out there that is the opposite of Love..do I have to say His name? 

And YES, Mother Teresa and CBS, there can be more hurt.  More hurt than anyone could imagine. 

 I am not talking physical blows, or cutting sarcastic remarks from the people who are in our immediate realm , although women and children in abusive situations would definitely do well to ignore this pleasant but false Love quote.

I am talking about the the world is  that is full of hurt.  There is an endless litany of hurts surrounding HIV, drug use, broken homes, homelessness, poverty, loneliness, pain, and  unrecorded  and unmeasurable emotional suffering throughout the world. Personally , I think, fear is probably the most painful of all, although I suspect everyone has their own 'most painful' dread.

Yes, Love is nice. But to say that if one loves until it hurts then there will be no more hurt is nothing but a cute and catchy  phrase. If you love, which is a verb, until it hurts, then I suggest you are doing something wrong.   For one thing...doing something that hurts YOU is  masochistic, and therefore cannot be beneficial to a person in need. 

Yes, Love your neighbour.  Love the strangers around the world. But don't ever think that if you are   being hurt as a result of that Love that that is a good thing..or a God thing.
  
 " Love the people who hurt until the people who hurt can love others."
                                                   Penny Hoffman (my blog-my quote)

1 1/4 Things Per Year.

I just listened to (most of)  an interview with Sarah Palin. She didn't sound nearly as asinine as she did the last time I heard her speak.  Perhaps it is because she is no longer a threat to becoming the leader of the already IQ compromised  Not So Sleeping Giant to the south. I can therefore listen without my heart beating in fear and trepidation thinking that someone who  votes might be swayed by the antiquated, backward, black and white muddled thinking  that she espoused  during the last presidential campaign.

I did like her comments this time  regarding her Downs Syndrome grandson being a gift to her family.  She spoke with sincerity and  wisdom of how he teaches her family lessons on being grounded and helps them  recognize what is important ....more than they can or ever will teach him.

It seems that she has learned a few things about life that she didn't know four years ago.

Maybe I, too, have learned a few lessons in those past four years, such as:

1. Just because I think I have a good idea, it may not be.
2. Just because what I think is funny, it may not be.
3. Just because I don't mean to hurt  other people, it doesn't mean I don't.
4. Just because I want something,  it doesn't mean I can have it.
5. Just because I can't have something, it doesn't mean it is wrong to  want  it.

  Yes, I  have learned some of these lessons in the past four years. Unfortunately for some, I only learned a couple  of them closer to the end rather than at the beginning  of the time line .

                                        

Apparantly THIS Goose is Golden.

Oh what have I done?
  Oh, what can I do?
    Oh, why did I do that? 
      Oh, what  was I thinking?
        Oh, was I thinking anything when I did
                that?
             Oh, who would think that that would
                             be a good thing to do?  



                           Oh, Why?

        Oh why did I not find the        

    Christmas Duck

   before I found

  THIS?
:(

    

                                                           

Thin Ice

I recently read  a news article discussing the possibility of tougher rules with regard to people going out on thin ice.  Tougher rules would be difficult to enforce as no one really knows when ice is safe or not.

My first  thought regarding thin ice actually included thoughts of my husband...who has yet to figure out for himself when he is on thin ice even after 30 years of marriage.  For someone who has never curled, played hockey, or skated, he certainly does seem to like to walk bravely and blindly through the slippery slopes of marriage. He is   as an innocent bambi walking  onto the rotted ice of a meadow pond on a March afternoon , enjoying the sunshine, totally oblivious of its own peril.   Never realizing,  that this sense of well being is at risk of passing  as swiftly, and with as much cold and shock as the filling of a rubber boot being dipped in ice water.  From time to time  he even manages to be on thin ice in the middle of July, although  in those cases he basically treads water only to avoid being drowned in his sorrows.

Some example of 'thin ice moments' are:

1. Deciding to give the hanging plant above the bed a good soaking  just before it's time to turn in.
2. Throwing out of the broken clothes dryer with a full load of wet
clothes inside.
3.  Towing a car around a curve with a tow rope and a tractor, expecting the car NOT to go in a straight line  into the bush causing the side mirror to be broken off.
4.    'Accidently' hitting the wife ( that would be me) on the side of the mouth with a frozen  pitch fork as she was helping rip apart a round bale.
5.  Putting  dry unwashed clothes from the washer  into the dryer
6. Shooting a skunk ...under the milk stand.
7. Taking a metal pot scraper to the Teflon non- stick coated frying pan rendering it non- nonstick.
8. Taking ALL the shingles off one side of the roof in one go-- as the rain clouds gather on the horizon.
9. Sleeping on top of BOTH sheets.
10. .....and the latest cause for hearing the ominous deep creaking of ice in the Hoffman Mansion you query?

                       The leaving of this Dead and Sucked On 'unliked' candy on matchbox for four days to rot until the SNAP of ice crystals spurred the decision to finally  throw it into the garbage.

Stupid Is as Stupid Does...Forrest Gump

See if you can answer these 5 Points of Stupidity in the following story.

1. Who is the stupid one in this story? Is it the  courier who  delivers a package containing a machine, some bottles of coloured liquid and containers of pills to an address in error?  or is it the person to whom the parcel was delivered accepting the parcel  in spite of never having ordered anything?

2. When did the stupidity first become evident? Was it when the person receiving the parcel opened it without checking to see who sent the parcel?  OR Was it when this same person  opened the parcel without checking to see whose name was on the address label?
3. Where in the timeline of this story would the rightful owner of parcel contents be the stupidest a) when they go to the address of where the parcel was delivered and expect to be paid by the person therein $183 for the cost of the parcel?   or b) when  the rightful owners threaten the person living at the said address with physical harm if the $183 is not paid?

4.  What was the stupidest thing done in this story?  Was it the drinking of the unknown liquid or was it  the eating of the unknown pills by the person to whom the parcel was delivered?

5. Why is the stupidity so evident in this story ?  Is it because   a) Everyone is entitled to be stupid, but some abuse the privilege.? --author unknown OR b) There  are more fools in the world than there are people? --Heinrich Heine

 

                                

There a  540 people living in my small town . There are 540 stories to be told and this is one of them.

February,1988

What a wonderful bright warm winter day we are having on the prairies.

There is just that hint of spring in the air...a moistness I suppose. The wood stove is working but just barely.  It feels like a good day to let the chickens out.. that is if we had chickens.

It also reminds me of the February before we had to leave the farm behind and move our family to the city so that my husband and I could get upgrade training.  I dreaded every passing day and specifically remember holding the baby and wishing and wishing that the days wouldn't fly by so quickly.

We had a plan.  I would leave the family here on the farm and take our 3 month baby to the nearby university in May to take summer classes. We would stay in university residence  and find a babysitter with the goal  that  someday I could land a teaching position somewhere.  My husband would stay home with the other two children until  the fall and then move to the city also , where he would be enrolled in an electronic course in the hope upon completion  of obtaining a job somewhere in the province.

  There were lots of things to be organized. Long distance phone calls were made, letters written, application forms filled out, all in the days before bundles, emails, or fax machines.

All through this same time we were negotiating with our financial institution regarding debt review and loan payments.  We were dealing with lawyers , negotiators, accountants, and employment offices.

Those quiet February days haven't been forgotten, because every day that passed meant one more day of leaving my family, my home, and the way of life I had envisioned.  It was not supposed to be that way.   It was supposed to be that if you worked hard, planned carefully , and were willing to sacrifice success would be guaranteed.

This past week has been upsetting for many people at my place of work.  Hours and positions have been cut.  Finances and families put at risk.   Plans and dreams have been put on hold.  People are afraid.

I understand those fears.   I did not know what fear was until I realized that we had no cash in the bank, although we did have $500 cash stashed in the house, no jobs, and the prospect of any viable way to make a living was not readily apparent.  I remember Irwin lying on the couch and saying , "Oh Louie . Whatever are we going to do?"

I don't know quite how we coped .  I guess we got through it because there was  just no other direction to go.  We stuck to our plan, we stayed together as a family, and we finally were able  to get back on our feet financially.

The best advice we were given at this time? 

It went something like this:

Try to think of the worst three things that could ever happen to you and if what you are going through right now isn't one of them then Give Thanks and carry on. 

Beep ! Beep!

I'm BACK!

No pain.

No drugs.

No fetch and carry by significant other.

No more excuse not to have a shower, do the dishes, sweep the floor, practice my fiddle, dust, or stay awake all day long. Whining and griping and wallowing in a state of malaise will now be too noticeable to get away with doing it longer than 15 minutes at a time.

I am not sure but it was either the drugs making the  swelling of the knee recede allowing the whatever had to be slipped back into place slip back, or the fact that I slept on that horrible weird new bed. Perhaps it was the  casual thrown out  comment that "they shoot horses don't they....?" 

No threat of  being left behind on the trail.

No coyote bait here..

.
                                                                    ...until the next time.

Kite Flying

The world has become just a little bit smaller and thicker since I have been on drugs.   Stupid muscle relaxants makes it feel like one lives in a bowl of jelly.  

Everything is slower, more tiring, more annoying, and more bothersome.  One basically could care less about what happens outside the realm of where the bathroom,  glass of water, and blanket are located.

It certainly keeps you out of caring about what anyone else is doing in terms of gossip, politics or sports happenings.  Not that the last two topics were ever of great concern even in my  non-prescription drug days.

   Some may read that last statement , albeit  correct in the meaning, as  suggesting  another lifestyle to which I am not and mostly never have been a part . The non-prescription drug days to which I  now refer are those days when I was part of the healthy, basically pain free part of the population of which I hope to soon rejoin .  


But until then, I will try to explore this feeling of  disconnectedness from the world like a  flying kite whose string has broken and is slowly slowly drifting along until it .....




                    C

                       R

                          A

                             S

                                H

                                   E

                   S


                          into  life again  ready to cope with all the rips, tears, and mud stains that come from living in the real world. 

Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it. (Quote by - Winston Churchill

Paper Bags

I am beginning to think that whenever we take advantage of our public services that abound in this great country of ours, that we should be made to wear paper bags over our heads so that no one can see us and then there wouldn't be PRIVACY issues.

 Although I must say I do recall a time when visiting the  doctor in the local medical clinic I could hear the doctor say to a patient (and I definitely know who the patient was as she was not wearing a bag on her head), " Well...do not PICK at it."  I distinctly remember  there was a lull in the conversation  in the waiting room at that point..and I know  what MY  thoughts were, as it was too late to grab a paper bag, " I  hope someone turns up the radio before its my turn."

I do think our great obsession with PRIVACY is just another indicator of our  own self indulgent belief that somehow we as individuals are so beguilingly unique and uniquely interesting that everyone cares where we live, where we bank, what doctor, dentist , lawyer we  see,  or where we work.  In actuality , most people have better things to think about..and the ones who do care would find this information out anyway in order to rob, rape and pillage ...just by following you home and watching if you have your light on.
  Imagine thinking one is going to get privacy in lets say, a hospital in the first place. What with the gowns, diapers,  and nurses talking to patients like they are both deaf and dumb, the only privacy one will find is what goes on in one's  head as one is listening to what is happening in the next bed behind 'closed' curtains.

Do we really think our lives are private?  People see us go to work everyday. They know we have a telephone number. In fact complete strangers call us on the phone. In fact, we  even have complete  strange computers   call us on a regular basis.  If you don't  have money to pay your bills people can tell by the car you drive, the house you live in, the clothes you wear.  People see and recognize you everyday..where you shop, buy your booze, if you smoke, where you go to school.

I think maybe we should just GET OVER OURSELVES.  Maybe we should all have to live in some refugee camps in Uganda for a month then perhaps privacy would be put in its proper place in our lives.  As far as I am concerned as long as people  would  keep  what needs to be private  covered, shut, and locked there would be no need for privacy policies.

A Good Time

All is quiet.
 I never realized just how 'noisey' pain can be.  Even while sitting still and  in the ER yesterday it seemed that there was a wild  roar always in the background. When I think about it now that I am more comfortable,  I can sense a stillness and calmness that  perhaps comes from being relatively pain free.  Nice.

  Just my husband and myself in the house.  He up in the living room reading as he is want to do.  I am seconded onto the couch in the kitchen with telephone on one side, coffee on chair on the other,  laptop on top of lap.
 Office chair with wheels within grabbing distance, as are the bottles of pills of painkillers and anti-inflammatories.
 Tensor bandage adjusted, ice pack applied and  the required 'cozy factor' of being covered by  an old red crocheted blanket  is performing its duty of being responsible for at least 30% of the healing that needs to be done.

Through all this little bump in the road  my husband has been very good at helping, lifting, carrying, bringing, and coming at my beck and call.  I thanked him accordingly and he just accepted the thanks with a stoic look and mentioned that I am really fortunate that this happened in the winter.

I commented on what a sweet thing to say (believing that he was thinking that I won't  be missing out on any beautiful summer weather).

  The avid camper /fisherman  just looked at me blankly and said, " Yeah, it's a good thing this didn't happen in the summer or otherwise---
--- you'd have to be here by yourself."

                                   "Time discovers Truth"

                                               -Seneca

Knee Jerk Reaction Revised

Well, today I would like to share an experience that  would do most people  good NOT to have, and that is a trip to the local Emergency Room.

 Being a bit of a whiner, I would like to complain that I had to wait hours in a queue to even get a number that would allow me to talk to the receptionist. But I can't  because when I entered the ER there were no line ups.  I was wheeled straight onto the unit and the attending nurse was actually the one waiting while the receptionist took down my information.

I could  complain that I languished forgotten in a small cubicle over noon hour while waiting for the X Ray Department to return from having their lunch . But I can't because someone came along and brought me a tray of food. It was 12:55 pm when I was wheeled into the X Ray room just the moment that the techinician  was back from lunch.

I could complain that I was waiting hours for a doctor to see me, but I can't, as the physician  came and talked to me both before and after my going into X ray.  In fact, he was looking at the X ray almost before I was settled back into the examination room.


I wish I could say , however, that the area where the receptionist was sitting was wheel chair accessible, but it was not.

 I wish I could say that the receptionist's computer was up and running efficiently and that she/we didn't have to move to another cubicle to find a printer that was compatible with the computer, but it was not.

  It would be  nice to say that the pain killer that they gave me at 11:40 am had been at its peak effectiveness  by the time I actually did get to Xray, but it was not.

I wish very much that the topic of this whole blog was just a figment of my imagination; that I wasn't really pumped up with pain killers lying here on my kitchen couch with a tensor bandage and an ice pack . That would have to mean that this whole day would have been just a nightmare and all ofthe  above just  concocted blither.

 But,  alas, very alas...it is not.

Cat Gut and Horse Hair

Today means the first day back to fiddle lessons  after a six week absence.

 Six weeks means a lot in terms of practice or lack thereof for a fiddle player.

For one thing the little tabs of calluses that have formed on the tips of the left hand have softened.  Another sign is that the tuning of the  fiddle more than likely is all out of whack...I have seen for instance the E string make the sound of a D and vice versa :(.

  It takes careful turning and gentle twisting of pegs and screws to get everything sounding close to what the electronic tuner indicates as correct.   Rosin has to  be applied , chin rest attached, music stand adjusted,  lesson sheet music set up, and the dog put outside (saves on the howl factor).
It is only after all the above has been carefully addressed that it is noticed that all the little stars, arrows, circles, and exclamation marks the instructor has so carefully written on the sheet of music to guide one  as to where to place one's fingers, how fast the beat is,  and  where to repeat or rest, at the last long forgotten lesson in December now means absolutely nothing. 

Nothing..zilch...zero.

 You are at a loss and ask yourself , "What the#$%@#$ does THAT mean?" Heart beats rises, frustration level heats up, and the possibility that something will be flying through the air increases accordingly.
 Happily at least there are some scales to practice.

My violin instructor is the quintessential music teacher.  Besides his person being very neat and clean, he is highly organized, soft spoken, prompt, methodical, and very diplomatic.  He has, I presume, what is referred to as 'perfect pitch'.He looks at a piece of music and can hear it in his head even if he hasn't heard it played before.  He can tell you with his back turned,  while you are playing,  if your fingers are too high/ low/ or not on the string.

To have the patience and skill to guide people with kindness and encouragement while they literally hack away at a piece of  music, a piece that often he has written or adapted himself with his students in mind, without  raising his voice, fiddle, or hand in any threatening manner , takes a type of  moral strength of character that perhaps is only found in the words to the music which he teaches. For example, the words to  Four Hand Scotch Reel,  Irish Washerwoman, Bottle of Brandy,  and of course the never to be forgotten, Geese in the Bog, no doubt all contain descriptions of persons of high moral and ethical standards.

Whatever the case, the man is incredibly polite and generous with his comments of encouragement after you have played a piece.  His "That was very good.  Now I can write 'almost, almost' done beside the piece." or " What an interesting interpretation.", and "Very nice..next time we can concentrate on this, and this and this, and perhaps this."; and, of course, " I truly have nothing to comment on. We will look at it again at the next lesson."

   Yes, these words go a long way towards determined practice for next time  around, as long as one doesn't think of them too too often and too too carefully.