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Friday, October 18, 2013

Red Socks

Today's Topic  is Socks

Socks are the common denominator in our society.  |The majority of the people reading this are wearing at least one pair, and this pair has been deliberately chosen to be the ones worn for this day --a day that also  also includes the choice to read this blog.


Some of these socks may range anywhere  from being plain white (male or female) ankle or knee length , neon striped with articulated toes and heals, plus  almost  every conceivable design, colour, sports logo, weight, texture, and material that the modern man has imagined and manufactured.

Gone are the days of  the home made knit socks and darning needles and   darning eggs for the  weekly hole repair. 




However, no matter what genre sock is involved the mystery as to where the socks go after they are placed in the dryer remains to this day.  When my family was growing up I made it a rule to only have white socks ..same style, same size ..so there wasn't any hassle in figuring out whose socks belonged to whom, and there were usually enough left socks for the right socks to pair up with.       

I have had the same two feet for over 60 years. For over 60 years I have been concerned over finding, searching for, and wearing matching socks on these same two feet... feet which in fact are NOT matching in themselves. In reality they are barely mirror images of each other being in turn (and often in circles) alternately left and right. Therefore, tonight for the first time in 60 years, I am going to wear mismatched socks.. hearkening to the ancient adage that 'if you can't find the right one. . then you have to wear the one that's left."


Red Socks are special.  They take you to parties where one meets the most interesting people,  They also help you to  dance like you think no one is looking.  The wearing of them can almost guarantee that you will get home late or early depending upon which side of the clock you want to look at. 

 There are at least 4 'at one time used to be 19 years old'  women who lived at #6-1953 Garnet Street, Regina, Saskatchewan in the early 1970's that can attest to the truth of the above statement.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Mail Order Shopping

Hey there Laura! 

Thanks for leaving your  Catalogue at work for my perusal. Yes I'd like to place an order , but first I would like to

ask a few questions regarding products and their usage etc.

1. I was fascinated by the thought of using a Fat Mop, but just wondering if one should use it wet or dry in or out of the shower?

2. The wire Facial Hair Remover looks interesting..no plugging into anything I am thinking. Quite good for camping. Does the Fuzz Eater come separately?

3. I will definitely be ordering the Bunion Toe Spreader...make that two (2) for the left foot --any colour will do.
4. Super Duper on the Super Kegel fore sure...I'll take one in Green...this item will also go nicely with the  EZ Ladies Travel Urinal.. After receiving these items I plan on not only filling up the van tank with gas while traveling but will also be able to get one of those large Cokes to Go.

5. What about those Prostrate Cushions....no mention of colour or type of outer material available...silk? Velcro? burlap? or just plain velvet? I'll take a dozen of those little rascals ...one for each of my hubby's outfits.

6. I'll be ordering a full carton of Anti Vibration Pads too.--you can pack them with the Kegal/Urinal Container.

7. I notice a Ring Remover...it is on that page with the bathroom stuff...is that any ring? ie. Wedding? Nose? ..Belly Button?

8. Those Banana Guards looked interesting...I'll get back to you on those.

9. A co-worker wanted me to ask if your company carried Udder Butter and Bag Bomb (she claims I spelled that last wrong but whatever....).

IB me with the estimated cost. I am hoping for a bit of a discount for such a big order.
Thanks..
pea





Monday, October 14, 2013

Butt that's Tacky!

As I was sitting in a restaurant the other day I overheard (eavesdropped)  a conversation between a handsome, fit, and tanned doctor and his fashionable family while they partook of their meal. Their conversation ranged from the obese individual at a table across the room, racial comments about incidences of vandalism in the area, and the quality or lack thereof of the food they were eating. Just shows to go ya that it isn't so much what goes into one's mouth that makes one beautiful..it is actually what comes out.



Now this is the rest of the story....

 Prior to this eavesdropped conversation,   as this self imagined 'first' family were leaving their table situated across from our own to go to the buffet, the doctor's wife  accidentally (at least I think accidentally ) rubbed her dainty  gluteus   maximus on my elbow.

   I found  it strange that she didn't turn around to see who or what she rubbed against.

 After I overheard the conversation and my husband told me name of the doctor,  I remembered  that  this  doctor has a reputation of being a womanizer.  I  then thought, 'That might explain why she didn't turn around and say excuse me. She may have thought it was my husband she touched, or else maybe she knew it was me and SHE is a womanizer too.'


 



Saturday, October 12, 2013

Two Definitions

Today I will discuss  my  first experience with  one of the two definitions of Leverage* and ultimately my second happier experience with the second.


The first  experience with leverage occurred during the moving of our family from our city apartment back to our country home. 

 The washing machine which was situated in the basement of the townhouse was going to need to be loaded onto a cart for transport. 

 The stairs leading up from the basement were the type that had a  landing on the stairway and then the steps turned at a right angle to complete the rise to the ground level.  

As moving appliances was usually happily not in the realm of my pre - transport duties I spent most of the morning packing the mundane kitchen/bathroom items and utensils all the while listening to things being dragged around in the basement, back door opening and closing, several trips up and down the stairs, some nonthreatening banging and clanging, with some murmuring  under the breath guttural moans and  expressions.


  All seemed to be going according to schedule.

  Until...I got the call.

"Dear, could you come down here for a second?"

Fearing someone had gotten hurt, or perhaps I needed to run an errand, I immediately went down to see why I was being hearkened in such sweet and loving manner.

As I turned the corner to go down the stairs I saw my husband standing at the bottom with two lengths of planking lying along the steps  and  the washing machine resting at the bottom.

I slowed my pace...warily squeezing by the appliance and planks--no small feat as I was six months pregnant at the time.

"What would you like?", I asked eyeing the scene dubiously as little alarms started to tinkle at the back of my consciousness.

"I can't get the washing machine around the corner of the landing so I want you to stand here. " He said as he pointed to the bottom of the steps, "I am going to the top of the stairs  and slide the washing machine up the steps using the planks for support."

 I thought to myself, 'Well that is easy enough...I can do that! As long as he doesn't let the washing machine slide back on me....'. 

Then he said, " As I get the washing machine to the top of the landing, I want you to lift the planks up to your shoulders and just stand there."


  As my bladder lurched and the baby kicked, my inner thoughts were , " OK...now this is too much.  Had this man gone MAD? Was he conniving some sort of household accident in his mind's eye?  Had I finally pushed him over the brink?

 Did he actually expect me...his darling, little , and kind wife and mother of 3 1/2  of his cherished children to actually be able to lift TWO heavy planks PLUS a washing machine to the level of her shoulders without suffering any serious consequences or harm?"

 The greater fear was  that his expectations  of my success were perhaps not really  that high. 

He stood there waiting for my response as I weighed the odds of receiving at the very least skinned shins, knees, and arms if the machine fell back down the stairs,  all the way to possibly experiencing a hernia compounded by a cardiac event  or worse if I attempted such a feat.

 As he was already half way up the stairs with said appliance preparing to drag it precariously upward and outward,  I  obediently said, " OK.  If you think I can do it."

So it began.  

I watched as the washing machine was hauled up slowly by hand higher and higher over the planks accompanied by scraping sounds like nails on a chalkboard. 

 When the machine got near the landing, he said, "Now! Now! Pick up the planks and place them on your shoulder."

I took a deep breath (as deep as any  woman who is six months pregnant could) and laboriously bent over,  grabbed a plank in each hand, and without hardly any effort lifted the planks surprisingly quickly up to my shoulders. 

 I raised my eyes to see the washing machine miraculously being pulled level onto the landing and consequently disappearing around the corner and ultimately heard it being dragged up over the next stairway and out the door.

THAT apparently is leverage.



.

       Give me a place to stand , and I will move the Earth. -- Archimedes

But it didn't end there. 

There are two definitions of leverage* remember. 

Henceforward, whenever there seems to be an impasse in who does what for whom in terms of favours, gifts, or outings,   I sometimes hearken back to the 'time I helped move the washing machine'  to leverage the situation in my favour. 

*

Full Definition of LEVERAGE

1
:  the action of a lever or the mechanical advantage gained by it
2
:  power, effectiveness leverage
>
3
:  the use of credit to enhance one's speculative capacity



Examples of LEVERAGE


  1. The union's size gave it leverage in the labor contract negotiations.
  2. The player's popularity has given him a great deal of leverage with the owners of the team.
  3. I used the leverage of the bar and a wooden block to pry the rock out of the hole.

First Known Use of LEVERAGE

1830

Rhymes with LEVERAGE


2leverage

transitive verb
: to use (something valuable) to achieve a desired result
leveragedleverag·ing

Full Definition of LEVERAGE

1
:  to provide (as a corporation) or supplement (as money) with leverage; also :  to enhance as if by supplying with financial leverage
2
:  to use for gain :  exploit leverage
the system to their advantage — Alexander Wolff>

Examples of LEVERAGE


  1. The company wants to leverage its brands more effectively.
  2. leverage
her 15 minutes of fame>

First Known Use of LEVERAGE

1957

Browse

Monday, September 16, 2013

Taste Testing




 Last night I was driving alongside a field of several moving combines (I believe I could make out about five).  As their  lights shone and twirled in a whirl of dust it put me in mind  of a sort of Harvest Hoedown.  Pulleys twirling and cutters and headers moving in an exotic rhythm as  dust and insects became  momentarily visible only to disappear suddenly as  the machine quickly turned inwards and sashayed in another direction.


  Along with this Harvest Polka ,  I noticed  that two  park lights of what appeared to be a small truck sitting on one side at the edge of the field were on and the vehicle wasn't moving.

  I recognized the reasoning behind this scene immediately,  then thought to myself that over the last 40 years some things never change.

 It probably still is a bad thing to drive over an unharvested grain swath with any type of vehicle --even a bike.

It probably still is a good idea to have the back chute closed before filling the truck box up with grain, rather than driving back to the house with a full load leaving a little tell tale trail behind.

I'd even bet it is still a bad idea to mess with the mirrors of any type of grain truck for at least the next six weeks.  This bad idea also can cover the risk one takes by moving any oddly placed boards, flags, or pails near the hopper and auger where grain trucks back up to unload.

Even with the common use of hopper bottom bins it seems to me that it still isn't a good idea to leave  rarely used wooden bin door slats inside the bin and proceed to auger grain on top.  Children can learn many many new swear words with the breaking of this rule.

Books in a grain truck are OK as long as one doesn't see the full combine having to wind it's way over to the truck from the other side of the field because there has been 'reading going on" instead of paying attention. I use the term 'wind' as combiners will never break the 'Do Not Drive on the Swath Rule'.


I KNOW this one is still in effect:  One must never ever lean over the twirling power take off  which is situated under the lifted truck box to pull the hoist lever to tilt the full box even higher.  You will get yelled at a lot if you do this...I know.  This rule is a real biggie right along with knowing which is the diesel fuel tank and the purple gas tank if you are the Gas Gopher for the season.

And finally, I'd bet some Serious Coin that there are at least a few farmers who still think the best way to test the fitness or grade  of the wheat is to grab a handful of grain from truck as it flows from the chute to the auger and, after a careful look at  the general colour and shape of each kernel in their open palm (while flicking away the odd beetle or grasshopper), raise it up to their mouth and stick their tongue out to pick up some of the golden coloured grain in order to give it the chew test which analyses the hardness and texture.  These taste test predictions, it was thought, helped the farmer decide whether to wait a day or so before finishing a field or to surge on ahead into the wee hours of the morning as long as the dew stayed away.

Now getting back to the park lights on in the parked half-ton. 

How else are you going to find your mode of transportation back to your home/bed on a moonless night at 2:30 am after the barley finally gets tough as  there are no landmarks or bushes left on the rock pile free, mostly level prairie grain field? 


 

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Ready to Eat!






Yes it is harvest time on the prairies !

 These are the times when lights traveling across the field in long angled trails, sometimes twirling, sometimes seeming to magically   multiply as combines, tractors, and trucks join together only to part again and continue on to  travel on imaginary highways avoiding sloughs and rocks, while  momentarily disappearing behind softly rising hills and dips on the prairie landscape.

These are the days when tomato sandwiches and mayonnaise taste the best.  Purple plums eaten with hands that have handled the hose of diesel fuel, messed with greasy pulleys,  and  probably swept out at least one mouse nest  from the grain truck have a flavour and savouriness not found anywhere else on the planet. 

Yes, harvest meals are truly a unique experience and  are  almost  a welcome challenge to the meal makers as they prepare, pack, and transport meals to the harvest field.  Pots full of mashed potatoes, roasters of fried chicken, casseroles of hot buttered corn, along with a fresh pie or two are only a small example of the nutritious fare travelled out to the back forty; packed in newspapers in cardboard boxes, along with 'real' dishes and metal utensils...all in accordance with  that  heretofore little known by urbanites harvest meal law  that  somewhere on some grain box is sketched out in a combination of axle grease and barely dust:

  Items such as cold Cheese Whiz sandwiches on white bread, canned fruit, and bags of potato chips are NEVER EVER to be disguised as a meal for a Harvesting Prairie Farmer.

 Alas,there was once a time when I, as a mother of two preschoolers, married to a then farmer who was 'out combining in his field'  mistakenly and yes ,  brazenly, thought that this above previously unproven agriculturally based law could be broken.

I thought of this because I was tired, busy, and wanted to cut corners...soooooo...I went to the nearby rural general store and purchased some bottles of Coke, a bag of Doritos,  a few chocolate bars, and some garlic sausage and proceeded to travel fifteen miles out to the field, with the children strapped in their seats, over gravel and dirt  roads  until I finally reached the approach closest to where the combine and  more importantly my combiner was busily traveling around and around on the field.

  I remember distinctly that it was an almost festive time.  The children played in the dusty stubble as my husband sat in the car eating Doritos and hunks of sausage listening to the sound of grasshoppers and children laughing. All too soon it was time to pack up paper and wrappers when alas, alas, alas, as I picked up the plastic label that had once protected the garlic sausage I saw these words:


This is a RAW meat product.  Do not consume until it is fully cooked.
The  truth of  the Harvest Law of  the Meal had made itself evident.
For the last 30 years I have always always checked for this sign whenever I purchase over the counter meat products.

Monday, September 2, 2013

Trailer Boat Innovation

 
 
 
 
 1. Note the position of boat in relation to shoreline. 
 
 
 
2. Back trailer up close enough to hook up winch rope.

 
3. Hook up rope.
 
 
4. Begin winching as boat rolls along easily on extra extended tire surface.
 
 
 
5. Boat on trailer in less than 2 minutes.
 
 
 

 
 
 
With this little extra device, the trailer only has to be in the minimum amount of water to allow the boat to be rolled off quickly and easily.
 

Fishing/ Camping Rules

Fishing/Camping Rules:


1. Get a Fishing License.

2. Get a Boat Driving License.

3. Read  and know about the  catch limits for your area.

4. Do not leave your 28' motor home and boat trailer parked at the boat launch while you go out on the lake to fish, as other people may  need the launch to  get in and off the water.

5.  If your garbage flies out of your boat, make at least some small attempt at retrieving it instead of just letting it drift away.

6.  When changing your fish line, pick up the old line and take it home and put it in YOUR garbage instead of just leaving it on the ground.

7.  When starting up your generator, it would be polite to talk to  your campground neighbours informing them of how long you think you will be needing to disrupt their peace and quiet and opportunity to listen to wild life in nature.  Do NOT ever run the generator longer than three hours and try to do so at noon when mechanical noises are not so noticeable in the wild.  If you find that you need to run the generator longer than three hours perhaps you should either a) get a bigger battery b) go to an electrified campsite c) stay home.

8.  Do not use your fish net as an oar.  It just doesn't work very well.

9.  It is always BEST to check to see if you have a bung in your boat and that it is inserted correctly before you launch it.  In fact, it is strongly suggested that one check this before leaving home  recalling this ancient fisherman's motto "Do you know where your Bung is?"

10. Turning your hitch at right angles as you unload your boat from the trailer is never a good thing. It is unnatural for other boaters to  be able see the floor of your boat from the middle of the lake.

11.  (a)Trying to start your boat motor with it tilted UP will only result in much frustration on your part--not to mention the motor itself by overheating and sputtering. Carburetors  like being level.

       (b) Further addressing the topic of difficult to start motors, in the event that any difficult to start boat motor does indeed start, it is not a recommended fishing practice to head out immediately to the furthest  and most isolated side of the lake. 

12.  Please do not try to hide the fact that you are the type of fisherman that keeps every single fish no matter the type or how large or small.   When you stand on the other side of your truck discreetly 'cleaning, cleaning' for an hour...we all pretty much know you have TOO many fish; and we for sure know it when you come back the next day and do the same thing.

13.  If you have a boat without a steering wheel, one should sit on the right hand side of the motor...to counteract the spinning of the propeller.  It keeps the boat leveller and makes the steering easier.

14.  Throwing hooks into the water when you don't catch a fish does not really reap you anything but a possible pulled shoulder and a bigger bill next time you go to the fishing tackle place.

15. There are no family secrets when fishing and camping in public.  One can pretty much ascertain what some people's wives and children have to deal with when one hears  swearing, banging, scraping, while watching the  zero to sixty attitude towards other fisherman with regard as to where they park their trailers.  (Threatening to flatten tires really isn't part of very many effective conflict resolution methodologies and probably should be avoided.)

16.  Finally and most importantly, lifejackets are to be worn.

Until next year.

  May your waters be calm, and your boat keep you dry
That little one you threw back may become next year's
 Big Guy.


Monday, July 22, 2013

Gypped

Irene Hilda Lundeen was born August 25, 1922 in Preeceville, Saskatchewan  the eldest daughter of Swedish immigrants.  Her father, Ole, was a farmer and fur trapper in the Porcupine forest in North East Saskatchewan, Canada.  Her mother, Ester Sjostrom was a hardworking farmer's wife  who gave life to four children despite a seven year stay in a sanatorium for treatment of tuberculosis.

Irene grew up in an area of Saskatchewan where the farm land was best left uncultivated and where rabbits, raccoons, and bears  were a common sight both in the garden and in the  traps set  and designed to catch any and all fur bearing mammals.  While the most young women of the day   embroidered and attended dances, Irene was trapping animals to sell furs to the local fur traders.



As I mentioned before, Irene's mother Ester was seconded to a sanatorium for treatment of tuberculosis and was for all intense and purposes absent from the life of the then 5 year old Irene and her younger brother for seven long years.  During this time, Irene and her brother Irwin lived with her Aunt , her mother's sister, and her husband, who worked for the Canadian Pacific Railroad, in a box car on a siding on the outskirts of a small prairie town noted for its  perogies, cabbage rolls, and home brew.   Her father, Ole, remained on his trap line and tended his crops for seven years without his wife and family at his side. After this seven year banishment the family was duly reunited and consequently ,  two more siblings arrived.




In due course, Irene, returned to the community where she spent her growing up years with her Aunt and family and married a local farmer.   Life was full of hard work for a farmer's wife in the '40s and '50's.  Raising 1000's of turkeys and chickens, milking cows to send cream to the dairy,  planting gardens an acre in size, plus the canning, freezing, and preserving of fruits and vegetables made time fly by, but Irene managed to sew quilts, mend clothes, and crochet doilies and tablecloths in her 'extra' time.  Besides raising four children, keeping them clean, fed,  Irene put on 'parties' where family and neighbors were invited and  Three spot and Canasta were played, lunches of homemade sausages on fresh baked buns offered,  and cakes made from scratch from hen house eggs served.

As her children  gradually left home, Irene devoted her summertime to her flower garden and her wintertime, being a woman of thrift, to sewing quilts, using material cut from used clothing.

Irene had four lovely granddaughters all born within three years of each other.  She described these grand babies as her  four little birds who would follow her around ...tweeting and chirping ...as they watched her prepare favourite desserts, wash strawberries from the garden, or crochet an doll clothes.  Many special meals of palt and bacon, blueberry cheesecake and fresh raspberries  were served to these little 'birds' by their wonderful doting Grandma Irene.

Now, when one gets married one doesn't often just marry one's spouse.  One marries not only an individual but also the individual and their family. At least that is the way I see it, and so when I married Irene's second son in 1981 I felt I was , in fact, getting a sort  'Kit'.   This marriage Kit was made of various facets if one included in-laws, nieces, cousins, aunts and uncles.  The main  attractive component for me was the 'mother' .    I was looking forward to years and years of being instructed in the art of quilt making, pie crust rolling, and jam preserving by the matriarch of my new family.
   I envisioned this  woman as being  the grandmother of my future children, the soft hand that would stroke their head when they were sick, the baker of cookies and sweet cakes for after school snacks, the summer holiday guardian and the safe haven of  unconditional love and acceptance that helps every child to bloom.


People have milestones in their lives that mark the start of something momentous such as graduating from High School, one's first job, and holding one's new born child in their arms.  Usually they are happy things.
But for me one of the biggest of life milestones  was of a disappointment that  has shaded the rest of my life.  It  was a day that was only 2 weeks before the birth of my first child and 15 months after my marriage.

It was on March 17, 1983, St. Patrick's Day, that the family was told that Irene had inoperable and terminal cancer of the colon. 

We laid her to rest on August 1 of that same year.  Her second son's first child and  her only grandson was just shy of turning four months old.

A comment made to me at the funeral sticks with me still.  A neighbour leaned over and whispered, "You were Gypped."

And gypped I was---and so was she.

As was my son, Alexander, and my daughters, Sarah, Rachel, and Heidi.


One can only guess at what they have missed because  that Kit  was  irreparably broken  and washed away by the tears that have fallen over the last thirty years.


I am EXACTLY the same age as Irene was 30 years ago when she passed away.  I think today  of the future of my own children's ' Marriage Kits'  as my son will soon be espoused. I, too,  have grandchildren I have yet to meet and sons-in-laws to welcome and greet.

 I hope we all get a fairer deal this time around.


Letter 1 from a young Irene to her mother in the Sanatorium.




 Letter 2  A letter to her Dad.






Letter 3...a bit older child.




The letters are a bit hard to read...perhaps one will have to increase the size of the display.


 Grandma Irene and some of her 'little birds'.



and her quilting.


I think of you often.  I always  miss you.  I always will.


Saturday, July 13, 2013

10 Things I Didn't Know Last Week--*But I Do Now*

1. The phrase "Fish don't wear bells" --from the book Shipping News--by Annie Proulx.

2. That there is ALWAYS payback..no matter what the cost...there will always be a way in which you will have to Pay Back the Favour.

3. There ARE houses messier, dirtier, and more dangerously unhealthier than mine.

4. It takes more than just self-identifying yourself as a Witch to make you one.

5. When you look sick, feel sick,  and other people say you are sick...you shouldn't go to work.

6. The phrase " A voice like a wasp in a jar" --from the Shipping News encore une fois. (This along with " "the wind was like the breath of a stepmother").

7. I can and will get annoyed when a huge over sized piece of  machinery takes up ALL the space on a PUBLIC roadway.  A piece of machinery that is not necessarily farmer owned, and therefore, is actually part  of someones private enterprise, who has not paid licensing fees for said piece of machinery, nor the massive taxes that a regular farmer must do;  BUT still travels willy nilly on country roads taking up all the room and interfering with the general coming and goings by bona fide licenced vehicles whose fees go towards the maintaining of said roads and, thus,  help pay the insurance to cover accidents that may occur in collisions with slower moving larger unlicensed mobile devices. ( Truly did not know that this would ever happen--this  feeling of annoyance I mean).

8. Someone thinks of me as their TRUE friend after 50 years...which I guess I am.

9. I can pick out Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia from a picture without ever really being there.

10.  'Growing Up' has nothing to do with Age, Intelligence, Education,  Religion, Monetary Worth, Health, or Technological Savvy; but has more to do with Common Sense.



Friday, June 28, 2013

Apple Faces

We have all had those moments in life when we wish we could go back just a few seconds  to redo, to rewind, to flip back a page or so for  multiple reasons. 

 I suspect that one of the most common reasons is due to that ever present Nemesis of the human spirit that plagues each and every one of us even to the grave ~ that being the cherry red cheeked hotness of embarrassment.

This  red flag of the  rising warmth of pink cheeks blazed across our face as a   result of the exposure of our imagined inner and hidden thoughts and yearnings , or even  our physical desires not to mention bodily functions socially deemed to be private if not sacred in some cultures, has been cause for wars, demotions, and literal 'loss of face'.

I will never ever forget the moment when the mother of one of my pre-adolescent crushes said point blank to me, "You like Billy don't you?"  I didn't realize that one could be frozen in place and have one's face literally burn until silent tears came to one's eyes all at the same time.

It has happened to us all, this 'unmasking' of our inner beings either as a result of our words, deeds, actions, or inactions being more revealing than we anticipated. 

 Another  time this scarlet dirge become evident in my life was the day that I absentmindedly called my Grade 1 teacher , who was nineteen at the time and male ,  "Grandma".   It happened again when I referred to our Chemistry teacher, a fellow from India, as "Mom" when I raised my hand to answer a question.

I always thought of  those little slips of the tongue with a certain amount of humour as I recalled the look of surprise from the recipients. 

  It wasn't until recently that I came to realize that maybe they didn't mind being called Mom or Grandma because these terms meant that I obviously felt safe and a certain amount of comfort in their presence. 

I have an interesting job that involves the supervision of young women living away from home.  The other night as I said, "Nightie night. Have a good sleep." to one of the clients, she turned around and said, "I love you too."  She turned and gasped as she realized  to whom she was talking.  She then  blushed and quickly covered herself with her blankets.




As I turned off the light and closed her door, I  smiled to myself, as I thought that something must be a little right in her life if she can utter such words to a near perfect stranger even par hazard.   

It  was kind of  cool.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Home Home on the Range


Well...we did it.  After 32 years, several solderings and multiple minor repairs , we purchased a new kitchen stove from the very same furniture store that the original stove was purchased.
 

The new stove is nice. It's white. Three small burners, one large. No clock. No timer. No light--not even in the oven. No electrical dash plug in.  Oven is NOT self clean.
 The top  shiny ledge is curved, leaving no place for salt and pepper and other traditional decor on top of stove.  
It is  probably the most Plain Jane basic electric stove on the market.
Nice. Serviceable.  Looks and is adequate.

That was about 2 weeks ago--the purchase that is.  It is still a nice, white, clean,  new stove sitting on top of the last of the carton it came in--unused and basically unwanted.

 It rests in the middle of the kitchen floor.

I can't do it.  I can't trade the  blackened and brazed almond coloured Admiral  stove  with the broken broiler element , whose  timer and clock have long since ceased to be functional ; that no longer has a safe self cleaning oven, with  the black glassed  door that had to be replaced only once due to the fact that S..... Happens in every family.

This original stove is the one that was bought with wedding money and chosen by my then new husband and his father, and was unseen by myself until the grand 'unveil' as it was unloaded from the truck from its trip from the big city. 

I am not sure why I won't just Let It Go  exactly but it might have something to do with  the fact that this stove  is the symbol of my connection with a long gone household of  hungry and busy family members that needed  care and nourishment. 

  This stove served as not only an instrument to provide  healthy family sustenance  over the course of 25+ years, but it also was the tool used to help try to convey the message of  the love that was felt for each one of its members. Alas, there were times when this message might have become a bit muddled in the translation especially when one thinks of the episode involving Cornish Hens and the Christmas Supper and also the Rancid Buckwheat Cabbage Roll incident at a dinner that ended up being a simpler and more tasty fare of  Peanut Butter and Jam Sandwiches.

There wasn't a meal made without prior thought and careful judgment going into the choosing of what would  be presented; whether it was favourite pancakes in various shapes, special meat loaves, or fresh breads. Nutritional balance along with an attempt to satisfy the taste preferences of the majority were always at the forefront of any meal preparation and that stove was a central part of the process.  The thoughts that pass through one's mind while preparing any repast are primarily thoughts on how the food would be received,  sometimes hoping that the old standby of tuna casserole would be enjoyed for the umpteenth time as much as, perhaps , upon another occasion, a new recipe would turn out as well as the picture in the cookbook portrayed it to be.

The choice of porridge to cook in the morning, the type soup to be consumed at noon, and the method and manner the meat would be prepared for supper was always chosen with thought of the would be consumers. 
 
  That awkward sticking of the oven door which doesn't quite open  smoothly as one takes out and puts in roasters, pans, and  cookie sheets along with  the accompanying grating sound, triggers not only remembered smells but also the feeling of satisfaction that comes from the   accomplishment  of a goal after much planning and consideration for the benefactors of the products. 


The successful baking of loaves of bread, buns, cinnamon buns,  pita breads, bagels, cakes, doughnuts, turkeys, chickens,   roasts, sausages, pies and tarts, raisin desserts, chocolate deserts, and  Christmas cookies along with even a rabbit and a goat or two,  all involved that piece of metal and wire.  Not to forget also, the watching of the boiling of the Palt and the making of spaghetti sauces with earnest helpers standing on chairs to see the process.

The myriad of birthday cakes  (at least 150), along with pans and pans of oatmeal cookies , pots of  boiled potatoes  to be later buttered and mashed ( referred to as clouds in the family vernacular) ,  and Easter Eggs boiled are pretty much uncountable.  The  numerous cupcakes  for school lunches and noon hour sales seem like a blur.


Yes , the burners have been changed numerous times.   Yes, the oven can no longer safely be considered 'self clean'  due to undo flamage and not enough insulation, along with  the need to use a knife to  regulate the knob designated to control oven temperature.  
 But even the smudge prone black glassed oven door with the obligatory stickers from years  past still stuck on,  holds memories of  long ago babies looking at themselves in the reflection in awe and dismay,  and serves as another blow to the chance that that new stove sitting unplugged and ignored while blocking our path to the cupboard will ever get installed and used.
  The  nicknack's that sit atop the  old stove ledge are some that were given  to me as presents from a little child years ago...a little cow bell, a balancing tightrope walker, and a plaque proclaiming the important steps of marriage... will all have a place to call home for a little while yet.

 

Monday, May 13, 2013

POOL TIME

I think there might be a bet going on at work.

I think there might even be a POOL started.


 I think it might involve me and when either I QUIT  working or when I drop dead either at work or at home.  I suspect it's double bonus if it is at work.


 I think this because I let it be known  recently at my place of work that  I will be 61 on my next birthday. 
  I know  this age reveal wouldn't really be all that unusual if one worked in a dress shop, make up counter, or candy store with other workers of the same gender, life experiences, and /or even clothes style.  But as I don't, and I do work with people who are primarily below the age of eighteen with co workers primarily below the age of fifty, I suppose 61 seems really really out there.  One leg in the grave and the other on a banana peel type of 'out there'. 

In fact , I suspect that I am older than most of their parents and perhaps even some of their grandparents, this includes my supervisors and team leaders.

I have  had 4 or 5 co workers casually ask me since  the unveiling of my age (as if they didn't already suspect) when I plan on quitting.  They sort of just incidentally work the topic into the conversation using their crafty and insidious professional methods of interviewing by saying things like, "So how long do you think you will be working here?"  or " Do you find that you have begun to ache all over in your joints?" as they look quizzically and unrelentingly into my eyes waiting for my reply.

 Yes,  it has all the markings of a pool of some kind being organized.  It won't be the first time a pool has been established based on my physical and/or bodily functions.

 They (the undefined and ever present in life They) organized one when I was about to give birth to my first child at the age of 30.

 I think almost all of the whole of that small town in Saskatchewan where I lived at the time was in on it--at least  I am pretty certain all the ones who regularly attended the  local tavern had their names entered.  I sort of recall that the  bristol board gridded sign up chart was posted behind the chip rack by the bar between the Cheezie and Hickory Stick stand.

You can imagine the look on the nurse's face who helped me through the delivery when I told her from the table that she should phone her son (the organizer of the pool ...not the organizer of the baby)  to tell him the exact time and date I delivered of an 8lb.4oz boy.

I got $56.75 from that pool thirty years ago. 

 What with inflation and cost of living increases ,   I figure I should get at least triple that with this one,  even if I don't drop off in situ.

 (which ,of course, will result in an automatic double your money refund).