I can see peeling paint when I close my eyes

Believe it or not..  I've had over 1,200 people looking at my blog from all around the world.  It makes me really happy every time I check who my audience is.  This week I have three new people reading from the United Kingdom!  Thrilling! 

So it was back to work for me today and for the next six weeks at least, I'll be covering two portfolios.   Everybody was in a great mood and happy to be back after a long, relaxing summer.  I guess you could say that technically I've been on holidays because I did take a few days and go to the lake at the end of July, and I also sort of had another few days off last week.  In between times, I took a summer job working as a nurse for home care.  Oh those patients, they are the best.  Nice to make new friends and learn more about this beautiful city.  I had three weeks of full-time orientation in July, learned scads of stuff, and then worked three shifts a week for most of August.

In between times, there was a flood at my regular office and I had a big project to keep me out of mischief at home.  I wanted to repaint my garage door.  A simple thing.  The paint was peeling when I bought the place two years ago, and it hasn't improved.  It had some kind of really heavy duty, oil-based paint on it (epoxy?) and I wanted to change the new finish to a water-based stain.  Why (everybody asks)?  Because stain doesn't crack and peel in the hot sun like oil-based paint...at least I don't think it does.  My vision is that when I eventually have to re-stain, then that's all I'll have to do....not all this scraping/sand-o-rama rigamarole that I did this year.  (Incidentally, I do have experience in this, because I re-did my back deck last summer).  I think I must have some sort of affliction that drives to do these ignorant jobs....  :-( 

Keep in mind to get to the goal isn't exactly easy because you can't put latex over oil.  So readying the surface means scraping and sanding ad nauseum, then repeat.  All the old coats have to go.  The first step of paint loosening, chipping away paint, scraping, wire brushing, rasping and you-name-it  took me weeks.  The sanding was about a day, while the staining happened over a couple of days. In the end, I had nearly worn out my hands, wrists and forearms and had to apply ice paks for several hours on the final day. It was worth it.

I had to smile and eventually learn to hold my tongue at all the passersby who watched me working away during those hot summer days.  They most often had a word of wisdom or two or a tiny suggestion here and there.  Over time, it was obvious some were frustrated with my slow progress and concerned that I was overdoing it.  "Don't work too hard" was pretty common, and mostly everyone said what a big job it was.  No kidding.  Some shook their heads, others clucked their tongues.  Others came right out and told me that I was doing it all the hard way.   A common thread was that I could blast the paint off with a pressure washer instead..  What they didn't know was that I had already applied two coats of paint remover gel which has to stay wet as much as possible.  Every time I used the garden hose to wet things down, the water ran into the garage into a low spot on one side.  That side just happened to be where my two electric deep freezes sit.  Somehow, the pressure washer was a little over the top. 

I didn't plan very well with the first coat of gel, because in the midst of scraping the now loosened, long rolling curly Q's of paint off , I had to go out somewhere in my vehicle and that meant opening the garage door.  All those wet chips and pieces of sticky paint and crudded up paint remover gel went flying and dripping down everywhere as I opened the overhead door (onto my red vehicle specifically) which was parked in it's place (inside the garage)...Since I didn't have the foresight to hose it down right away, it dried and stuck there. I had been preoccupied with trying to suck up the unwanted water with the shop vac prior to leaving and ignored the fact that all that muck had dropped onto me and stuck too.  Since I didn't have time to rush in and sponge myself off, no wonder I was getting funny looks.

I had tried a test section using oven cleaner as a paint remover last year and found it really does work, but is even messier and probably more toxic than the commercial paint removal concoctions.  I had researched paint removers on the internet and got so excited when I read about oven cleaner that I rushed out and bought six cans.  When it came time, I was all gung ho, but a male friend urged me not use it.  He didn't really have a good reason, but I tend to defer to others more knowledgeable and in the end, spent $69 for a half gallon pail of something less caustic.  I noticed there were really no bugs bothering me, so they must not have liked it.  I did end up with a sore throat every day while using it, but that doesn't count I guess.  Incidentally, I have a lawn with weeds, but my neighbour who is a scientist forbids me to use chemical weed killer because like he says, they cause cancer in the weed, so what do you think they'll do to you?  Him, I believe.  Incidentally, I've cleaned three ovens this summer, and am getting pretty good at it.

A male friend helped stave off the chance of electrocution by flood waters in the garage by raising the deep freeze closest to the door up onto two - two by four's, so at least it wasn't sitting directly in the newly created puddles on the cement floor.  It took me awhile, but eventually (another day) I realized I could set up a barricade made of plastic and boards, so it wasn't so easy for the water to pool into that corner.   The resulting garbage bags didn't look too professional, but served the purpose.  At that point, I almost tried the pressure washer, but the paint was so unbelievably stuck on, I seriously doubt it would have worked.

Another fellow came along one day and offered to lend me both of his sanders.  As it turns out, I have my own.  I have an old rectangular sander which I used as well as another pretty professional-looking belt sander.  I realized that the sanders wouldn't be of much value until I got rid of the big pieces and chunks of paint.  I just had to get rid of the majority of the old paint first and leave the sanding as a final step before staining.  I used coarse sandpaper and a wire screen type of material on the rectangular sander.   When I finally did use the belt sander, I was at the bitter end of scraping and had to wear goggles and a face mask.  I hadn't done so and realized I needed to because of the fine sawdust collecting in my eyes...but man, it was 29 and 30 degrees celsius temperatures, and awfully suffocating work. 

A most extraordinary thing happened when I pulled out the power tools.  The collective neighbourhood sigh of relief was almost palpable...especially from the men.  They had been forced to sit back and watch me for days, as I was reduced to struggling with anything that remotely worked as a scraper.  My best tool was a type of razor blade (thanks Home Depot) and several  different-sized putty knives.  I used a butter knife from the kitchen drawer for all of the rounded moulding edges.  But, I guess the manual scraping was taking it's toll on everybody, not just me.   A fellow showed up one day and brought me his heat gun, almost begging me to use it....something I still have to return.  Unfortunately, it didn't work, probably because the door was wet.  It was a small version of a hair dryer from what I could tell.  Supposedly, you just have to heat up the paint and it peels off like nobody's business.  Great for furniture I guess. 

A tidbit about what works for furniture stripping came to me long ago from a lady in Hudson Bay.  She used to douse furniture with lye soap out on the lawn in a tub of water.  She recommended wearing rubber gloves, ha ha....

When I finally got to the staining, I realized I had to put the first coat on with a paint brush, because of all the nooks and crannies.  The garage door is white with brown trim.  I gave it two coats of white and then thought one coat of brown would do.  Not quite.  Every brush stroke showed.  In the meantime a man called out that I was really doing it the hard way.  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I answered, "Believe me, if I knew what the easy way was, I would be doing it."  I waited for him to share his much revered secret, but he just laughed and strode off.  Now I was getting ticked.  A lady slowed as she drove by and rolled her window down.  She asked if I was almost done and then smirked about how much scraping I'd put into it....I'm not sure what look I gave her, because she quickly back peddled with, "you've done an awful lot of work, and it's looking great"....After that, I couldn't wait to be done.  I was getting embarrassed...  I immediately retired the paint brush and broke out a tiny roller for the fastest final coat of brown paint on record.  My hands never hurt so much as after using that piece of crap....but I was done at 10:45 a.m. on August 19...a Sunday no less. 

What really made it all worthwhile was an  elderly gentleman and his wife who were visiting in the area.  They were loading their car to leave as I was putting the final touches on.  As they went to leave, he hollered across the street to tell me what a beautiful job I had done.  Awhhh...My whole mood lifted.  My spirit soared.  No longer was I feeling bad.  Suddenly I was elevated to project completion...because I knew I had done a great job!  I backed up and took a long hard look.  He was right, it was beautiful.  Yes, I guess I am meticulous and a slow worker, and maybe I do things the hard way, but darn it, why not... because it sure feels good when it's all over. 

Simple Things

It's the simple things in life that truly make me happy, not the convoluted and complicated ones.  I had almost forgotten the simple joy of riding in a vehicle with the windows rolled down.  The situation came about yesterday, because of some funky smell in my SUV.  It was evening and I started out by driving down Spadina Crescent, along the river bank.  I powered every window down, even opened the sun roof.  The sun, wind and humidity were just right and the air was oh, so fresh!  I hardly ever do this, but was quite thrilled at how exhilarating it felt.  I got to wondering why I don't do it more often.
I vaguely recalled what led to my overlooking and almost discarding this lovely way of driving.

Bugs are one.  Getting hit on the cheek or eye or mouth by a wayward insect makes you want to go for the window roller upper pretty quick.  I was scraping paint off the outside of my house yesterday and a mammoth dragonfly flew into the garage door and then did the most startling things...it was a form of the "chicken" really.  The buzzing noise he made was frightening, and he flew all over the place, in a confused thrashing way, poor thing.  I was ducking and getting out of his road at every turn.  The fluttering and grinding of his anntennae, legs and big wings is something I never want to come in contact with.  In my books, I want to avoid insect fluttering anywhere near me especially that of moths, who tend to shed a grey powder.   So, bugs should be avoided when possible, whether on horseback, riding a bike or whatever, you can easily be "taken out" by an insect, and... when you least expect it!  I got hit hard on the cheek by a massive bumble bee one afternoon, on a Honda 50 when I was about 16...we were only half way home.  Now that hurt!

If you slow down with your windows open, especially on a cloudy, muggy day (but any day really),  black flies, mosquitoes, horseflies, no see um's, etc. usually sense the opportunity for fair game and go for it.  These creatures dive bomb and bite and leave you itching or bleeding or both. Some you feel in the moment and can swat, but mostly you find out because you start to scratch some time later.  You know, it's those pesky females that do it, because apparently, the males are more docile, or just not built that way (at least for the mosquitoes)..

Wasps, hornets, and spiders are others who seem to find their way inside your car by accident and might have to sting you while trying to find their way back out.  The result isn't the innocent mosquito bite, it's more like an injection of painful venom that may or may not cause you to have a severe reaction.  You will definitely feel it exactly when it happens...no doubt.  Most people can count on one hand how many bee stings they've ever had in their life. They can vividly recount exactly what they were doing at the time.  When my son was about four, we were in the straweberry patch on our acreage.  His little blue jeans had a gap at the waistband at the back.  He was down on his hands and knees playing and a monolith bumble bee started to crawl down the gaping area.  His dad saw this and whacked our little boy hard on the backside in order to kill the bee.  Oh dear, it was a bee sting and a hit all at the same time....Yes, there was loud wailing involved, but there was no loss of limb and he has grown up to be a fine man.... In fact, you may not know you have an allergy to bee stings until it happens and then know that the plan will include a quick trip to the nearest emergency department for a shot of adrenalin! 

Not only that, but all the swatting and enticing of the biting insect, (i.e. bee) out of the cab of the vehicle may cause you, the driver, to swerve all over the road. Not pretty...This erratic driving, to the surrounding drivers, could look like drunk driving, and there's a number to report that.  You could find yourself up in front of a magistrate, explaining yourself faster than a cat on a hot tin roof (or a dragonfly, temporarily head-injured from hitting the garage door)!  Driving with the windows rolled up in the first place might have been smarter in the long run.


Another excuse to keep the windows up on a summer's day is rain.  No point in getting wet or God forbid splashed by a semi on the highway or a speeding demon on some city street.   The chance of having lightning come in through the car window or sun roof is also not pretty, so better play it safe.  On the other hand, especially in cities, sometimes during a downpour, the water can't get away fast enough through the street drains and flooding occurs.  In low-lying areas, like underpasses, the water can get too deep within minutes.  In the past, as some of you may remember, this has caused serious consequences, including loss of life.  Maybe when approaching a situation like this, having even one window down would serve to be an escape route, if worse came to worse.  That's only my opinion though, just a thought that crossed my mind.  Why I got to always riding with the windows rolled up tightly, even when it's not raining, is mainly habit though, because as you know, it doesn't rain every day.

As you may have guessed, I am nothing if not practical and safety-conscious. My kids as they got older used to tease me when I reminded them about taking their raincoats, etc.  They used to say things to the effect that I wanted them to wear their space outfits and boots wherever they went, just as a cautionary measure....We would laugh together....To my mind, that was a perfectly normal request!  I think most mothers and fathers would agree.   :-)

In my defense though there are other valid reasons.  Obviously, the freezing cold of winter is a deterrant to rolled down windows.  Who wants to freeze their noses, ears or digits off just to get some fresh air...enough to last you all day at work in an office where there are no windows?  I guess not me.    But....there are days, even in winter when the temperature soars and the sun shines brightly....so why not roll down the windows and open the sun roof?  My excuse?   It never crossed my mind.  Don't get me wrong, I have been known to open the windows a crack in the dead of winter.


So now, it's been summer officially for a couple months, but in reality only for the last couple of weeks.   Why not roll the windows down and ride like the wind or even while parked?  Well.....what about vandals?  What about thieves?  What about blowing dirt and big dogs running loose?  I recently listened to directives for work that say you need to keep everything of any value out of sight in your vehicle.  Even loose change!  They said your garage door opener is an appealing target, because thieves steal it along with your car registration (from the glove box) and then go break into your house.  But let's be realistic.  There is NOT a boogey man under every bed!  In reality, 80% of people are wonderful and 20% are something else.  The odds of you getting affected by crime or randomness is pretty minimal, don't you think?....But then again, Karma can be fairly nasty.   Oh joy!  On the occasions when I have had the opportunity (basically out of necessity) to eat lunch in my car in an unsavoury neighbourhood,  I have tended to throw caution to the wind and roll down the windows anyway...especially if there's no one around.   Oh, and by the way....keep your heads up.  I'ts important to keep track of what's happening around you at all times.  Just a little more fodder :-)

What of these 20%?  Well....What about when you get to a stop sign or red light?  The other day I sat at a red light beside a carload (I mean, six or eight people in an old model, run down something).  They were enjoying their music blaring with all the windows rolled down :-)...  They were obviously "on" something and some had the typical facial features of fetal alcohol syndrome (poor souls).  They were happy as anything, and waving at me and giving me the thumbs up.  They obviously thought everyone would love their music as much as they did.   I smiled back and returned the thumbs up, all the while quaking in my boots with my foot itching to jump off the brake and floor the gas pedal!  I thought about it later....maybe I would benefit from being "on" something, but at the time, I was happy as anything to have my automatic door locks on, my windows rolled up and sun roof firmly secured.  There.

Letter to my dad

Dearest dad,

I'm writing you this letter for Father's Day, even though you've been gone from this world since December 26, 1992.  That's 20 years ago this year, and really hard to believe.  You were only 67 years old, so today you would be 87!  You would be happy to hear that my little sister is starting to look so much like you I can hardly believe it.  Maybe it's her new glasses and that she's turning 50 today.  You've missed so much since you left.  The most important of all are the additions to our big family.  We've added new husbands and wives, but especially all sorts of new children were born.  You have eight great grandchildren who have never had the pleasure of meeting you.  They are the apple of everyone's eye.  Luckily for all of us, you passed along your secrets of how to treat and love kids, because that's something you did so well and were known for.  I had someone tell me you were an "angel of a man", and she was certainly right.

We have all missed you sorely.  We took years to get over it, but as time wore on, we've come to terms and even though we think of you often, we've had to put one foot in front of the other and slowly get on with our lives.  The day of your funeral was the coldest day on record.   The wind blew, it stormed and it approached 50 below zero.  Seemed like you didn't want to leave either. Auntie Dianne had similiar weather, so I don't think she was really ready either...  There have been other losses of family and old friends, but we are comforted to know you are all together.  The loss of your teen-aged grandson, was especially hard.  You, him, Merton, and Auntie Dianne must make quite the merry bunch to add to all the other family and friends already there.  I'm a person who saves cards from funerals, and they are really beginning to pile up!

You know what I miss the most?  Sitting on the couch in the crook of your arm.  Probably watching some TV show like Bonanza.  Me playing with the hair on your forearms.  I miss you tucking me into bed at night when I was a little girl.  Every night without fail you would come in and talk to me and kiss me good night.  We always had big hugs. Those are memories that can never be taken away.  I miss your impromptu visits after I got married and moved away.  If you were in the vicinity, you would be at my house.  Being in the funeral business in those days, sometimes you set the neighbourhood all a-twitter by showing up driving the hearse.  Well after all, you might have had to make a trip to whereever I lived all in the line of work.  No point in missing the opportunity to visit your family if the chance arose.  You had no qualms about telling me my bathroom needed cleaning either.  There again,  I wasn't afraid to hand you the toilet brush and it wasn't beneath you to use it!  You would help me with whatever I needed, if only I asked. 

My own children grew up knowing their grandparents very well.  They loved you both as much as I did and loved going to your house for a visit.  As the years went by and they got older, the visits would sometimes be for weeks on end during the summer. Somehow, having them around seemed to make you and mom younger.  Sitting on your knee or letting them lay down for a nap with you made such a mark in their lives.  They loved going to the fair, the same as we did when we were kids.  You and mom always went and made sure they had lots of rides, games and candy floss.  We all loved going out to see you at the farm.  You often had pop and chocolate bars or some other treat for us when we showed up.  You would make time and be happy as anything to see us.

We loved to go with mom to take meals to the field during harvest.  You would be driving the combine and I can see you in your coveralls, jumping down and walking toward us to this day.  Mom would make big meals of meat and potatoes and the whole crew, including us and the hired men would eat voraciously. Sitting on the tail gate of the truck or just on the ground in the stubble beside the car was absolutely the best.  I didn't know the difference, but was told you were such a great farmer.  We got to ride on the combine for a short while with you if we wanted to.  I remember coming home from school one day and finding out that you broke one of your fingers.  You'd  caught your ring on the metal stairs coming down off the combine.  I don't believe you wore rings while working much after that.  I remember you being happy about the insurance you got for the broken finger though!  I remember you telling us about the wildlife you would encounter while combining into the wee hours of the morning.  Bears, coyotes, foxes, deer, moose they were thick at Hudson Bay near the newly broken land. 

I distinctly remember having a discussion with you about money.  Of course, I was going to university and thought I knew everything.  I think we were talking about who I should be dating and it would be nice if the person had money.  A sort of a philosophical conversation.  I was quite insensed and said, "dad, money isn't everything you know!"  I mean, who on earth would stoop to marrying someone for their money?  His answer was so succinct and to the point...."no, but it sure helps."  Those kinds of things have stuck with me. 

When we visited you in the hospital, your face would light up and you would be so happy.  I wish I would have stayed longer on each and every one of my visits.  I was always having to leave and get on the road...and you were always wanting me to stay longer....I wish now that I had made those visits last much longer than I did.

You were a practical joker and one of the things I still have as a reminder is a shoe box full of safety pins.  I guess I mentioned I need some once.  You wrote "To Jean Love Dad" in black jiffy marker on the top.  I think of you every time I see that box.  I have pictures of you, but not nearly enough.  I wish I had so many more, but there again, I don't.  If anybody has any pictures of my dad, I would absolutely love to have copies.   I think that's one of the best gifts you can give somebody...photos of their loved one that you might have sitting in your closet.  They really mean the world to someone.

Dad, your shop was always as neat as a pin.  You could fix most things, and even though it might take you awhile to figure it out, you would be successful in the end.  I remember your set of funny-looking open drawers that were full of screws, nuts, bolts, nails, and you name it.  You had them all sorted out  in this really orderly fashion.  You were a big game hunter and kept us fed with moose meat most years.  We often had company staying at the farm and many of them came to Hudson Bay to hunt big game.  Your shop was the place you hung the meat.  When I think of all the buildings on that farm....all the equipment....all the land...I wonder how you had any time for yourself.  I used to wonder how come you'd go to bed right after supper in seeding and harvest and be up by 5:00 a.m.  I thought you were crazy.  I remember you asking me why I didn't go to bed earlier.  Well, I was a teenager and I thought it was cool to stay up until 11pm and then sleep in..  (Mom made sure I did my quota of housework and cooking...lucky for me or I would be useless in the house today).  Now I know why you had to do that. 

I remember you saying things to me like I might lay an egg if I kept laughing.  You teased us kids and laughed and when we got mad or pouted you'd say "bad old dad"...I remember you saying things like, "oh yeah, wear out the old stuff first".  You meant, we were asking you to do something we were perfectly capable of doing ourselves.

I still think you had some mid-Victorian values and ideas though.  You were ultra conservative about many things.  Now I understand why, but at the time when I was a teenager, I wanted to talk openly about everything including the birds and the bees.  You put mom up to that.  I guess I'm mid-Victorian too, because when she tried to have "the talk" with me, I said  she didn't have to because I already knew "everything"....even though I really knew nothing.  I think my face was flaming red for three days after.  Neither you nor I were quite ready for the sixties I guess!  You dad, had a knack for knowing what to do or say when I really needed someone.  After a tiff with my boyfriend, you came out and sat on the step with me in the dark and told me one thing.  You said, and I will never, ever forget this...  "No boy is ever going to love you the way I do."  I said, "I know dad."   It made me cry, but turns out, you were right.

Dad, I always loved listening to you sing.  You sang so much when I think of it. You'd be working away and just singing...mostly songs off the radio, I guess. You whistled too.  You were a good dancer and took us to all the community hall dances.  I just don't know what ever happened to  events that were so much fun for the whole family.  Dad, you would come in from the field and for entertainment would take the whole family for a drive around the country looking at the crops.  We loved those intimate family times.  We'd stop and get out and walk  a little ways into the field, imitating your  every move.  You brushed  your hands over the heads of the barley, waved your hands through the grain, and so did we.  You cracked the heads of the wheat open and ate the grain inside...so did we.  We'd watch the sun as it started to set.  You were one helluva driver when you were looking at the crops though...even I remember that.  Even so, you drove thousands of miles on combines, tractors and trucks and when I realized I couldn't see well at night to drive, it was you that I handed the wheel to.  It was you who let my son drive with you to the lake, when I was such a basket case around a brand new driver.  You were on morphine by this time, and I said you were so brave because you were under the influence.  You would have done it regardless, but I'm a teaser too.

Dad, you were so handsome.  Your hair was never out of place and you always liked your clothes pressed, even if they were for out working in the field and riding on the tractor.  I so wish you were still here, but I would never have wanted you to continue on with the pain and suffering you were going through.  I just always wanted to have you with me and I always will.  I carry you in my heart and soul forever.  Your are as much a part of me as I am of you.  Until we meet again, my dearest dad.

Did I tell you the one about....

Did I tell you the one about one time when I was working on a hospital ward as a nurse?  I wore no cap that day, but  was wearing a white uniform dress.  I was covering over the lunch hour for another nurse's patient.  He was an elderly male who was dying in a room across from the desk and had family members with him.  I knew even though my own assignment was crazy busy, that I still needed to check on him. I had been told he wouldn't be living very many more hours, since mottling of his lower extremities was present and he was having regular apneic spells.  I walked into the room, only to find the sun streaming in through the window enveloping him and the entire bed.  It was one of those times where you can see the lit-up dust particles floating in the air, if you know what I mean.  I didn't speak, just quietly tip-toed in.  He heard me I guess and turned his head toward me.  All of sudden, he smiled and cried out in wonderment, "an angel!" You may not believe this, but he died right then and there. I stood for a minute, rooted to the spot, thinking he had mistaken me for an angel because of my white uniform and blonde hair.  Then I wondered if I didn't have someone walking beside me from another world or dimension that he could see and I couldn't.  I guess I will never know.  I walked up to his bedside still in shock, took out my stethoscope and listened for a heartbeat.  There was none.  I was astounded and of course, it was something I will never forget.

Another late evening, after dark, when the hallways were vacant and the visitors had gone home, a lady patient I was caring for started telling me she had just had her deceased relatives come to visit her.  She was ecstatic and described to me in fairly vivid detail who all she talked to.  Although I held her hands and marvelled right along with her at the excitement of it all, the whole idea rattled me.  I talked it over with my nursing partner and we both had seen enough TV shows to know it could mean something ominous.   Even though everything about her had been normal for the entire day, we decided she would bear close watching.  I called her doctor as a safeguard and told him what had happened.  Sure enough, as the night progressed, her vital signs became more and more erratic to the point that I did indeed have to carry out the orders the doctor had given, should she take a turn for the worst.  I had told him of her odd circumstances and to my relief he had no misgivings or qualms that my suspicions were not correct.  He did not argue whatsoever or make me feel like I was blowing her condition out of proportion.   If he hadn't listened to me, I think she would have headed somewhere else besides earth on that night.  It was uncanny. 

Quite a long time later, I sat with my aunt as she struggled to pass away.  I had arrived at the hospital back home as her family member and not as a nurse.  Some of my family had been to see her in the afternoon and she was talking and laughing.  It was supper time when I got there and the minute I walked into the room, I recognized the signs.  She had the distinctive breathing pattern associated with dying....the death rattle.  She was no longer conscious.  I stayed with her during the night, since she and my uncle had no children of their own.  He was terribly unwell himself and the kindly hospital powers that be allowed him to be admitted into the bed next to her.  He slept off and on and worried about her all night.  She was turned and attended to by the nurses regularly during those long hours.  She was working really hard with her breathing and it was a sad thing to watch.  Come lunch time the next day, my Mom and I talked my uncle into leaving the room to go eat some lunch downstairs in the cafeteria.  When we returned, there was the tell-tale light I had seen before surrounding her and the hospital bed she lay in.  There were the shining dust particles floating through the air.  She never regained consciousness, but within minutes of our return, she gave her last breath, along with a sound that was almost like an exclamation of relief as a final noise.  My uncle was devastated and immediately showed the one and only display of anger I had ever seen on him.  He was standing up, holding onto his walker. He picked the walker up and slammed it down on the floor and asked, "why did I go down for lunch?"  Awwhh...it was such a sad day. 

I know from other experiences with those who are dying that they seem to develop a sixth sense or something.  They sometimes wait until family leaves the room, or hang on for longer than seems humanly possible while they wait for a certain loved one to arrive.  Unfinished human interaction and touch needs to be attended to before they can go it seems.  Although I have always heard, "when it's your time, it's your time"...I do wonder...are things really as random as we think?  Unexplainable happenings always give all of us pause to wonder about the very nature of life's miracles.

Friends

Friends....over a lifetime we all make a multitude of friends and acquaintances.  Some come into our lives and stay, but others are like the revolving door.  Some keep resurfacing, because just when you wonder if you'll ever see them again, there they are.  Some are there when you need them, some aren't. You are there for some and for others you aren't.  Some friends you might not have talked to in years, yet when you do reconnect it's like you've never been apart.  You know each other's every nuance, every smirk, every frown.  You and your friend both know when to talk, but also when to listen.  You and your friend have  been the shoulder to cry on the and the one who has done the crying.

The important thing about being a friend is that you care for the other person and you know they care about you.  You truly care about what happens to them and their family and likewise for them about you.  You feel this deep underlying sense of respect for the person and it is returned with full force.  Often a friend, at least from my point of view, is someone that you can learn from and vice versa.  I like to look at a friend and find one or more qualities that I can aspire to.  Some are excellent cooks, others awesome housekeepers or stupendous mothers or fathers.  Some are fabulous drivers, strong of character, wise in the ways of the world, smart with their money, brilliant with numbers, and role models in all sorts of ways. Some are fabulous dressers with fancy shoes, purses, jackets and outfits to die for.  Some have their houses decorated to the nines and it takes your breath away.  Just when you can't bear the look of anything around your house or any of the clothes in your closet, you get a boost by even a short visit with a friend.  Some friends are nothing like that, because their forte is personality, and their house may be lying in rack and ruin and their wardrobe is frumpy and made up of hand-me-downs or garage sale items.  These friends really give me inspiration.   I just want to rush home and clean my house and be happy with the clothes I've got.  I see that they've found great outfits even at bargain prices and it makes me love garage sales all the more!

Sometimes the shape  of a friend's body can serve as an inspiration to me.  If I'm feeling fat (trust me, I have NEVER felt too thin), I'm motivated by an overweight friend.  I'm also influenced directly by a friend that is svelte and sleek.  Whether the friend is overweight or has the figure of a model, each makes me want to do something better to improve my look.  I get a whole new lease on life to get back to exercising, eating right and trying to look a little more stylish.  Hairdos have the same effect.  If I'm growing my hair out (I have very fine, dirty blonde hair) I will realize I look like a scrag when I see a friend who is letting her's grow out if it makes her look unkempt.  Presto, it's off to the hairdresser for me.  If I see a friend with a chic new cut, it makes me want to improve my look too.  You see, friends can hold alot of power over our self image and we can do the same for them. 

If you have achieved something in your life that others can aspire to, that quality will be shining through.  That quality is something  I would like to see you bottle, metaphorically speaking, and share with others, especially me.  I, for one,  would dearly love for you to show me how you reached that certain lofty goal...like becoming that seamstress or quilter.  How did you learn how to build that lovely house or plant that exquisite garden?  Where did you get the ideas for all your award-winning parties and your flamboyant personality that everyone is drawn to?  Teach me, because I love to be enlightened, and I'm certainly not unique in this trait.  After all, I'm all about living in the light and shedding any form of darkness (except for sleeping and enjoying the end of the day).  I think most people are like this....always striving to find the good. 

Friends who have found their way in life may be envied by others, but their real friends only look at them and feel inspired.  Seeing your friend succeed in their career or build and maintain a profound and devout sense of spirituality and/or religion gives others strength...especially  friends.  Seeing young mothers caring devotedly for their children, while juggling everything else in life motivates everyone around them, but especially their friends and support groups.

They say we make very few 'true friends' in our lifetime, yet we have hundreds of acquaintances.  I find it harder to be the friend who reaches out and makes the call.  I may be thinking of the person, but get wound up in my own life.  Contrary to my behaviour, my true friends continue to call me, to come and visit and to make me feel like a worthwhile person.  I'm sorry to say that I take friendships for granted, yet they continue on, year after year, no questions asked.  The old adage, 'we can choose our friends, but we can't choose our relatives' was said tongue in cheek, but some of our best and truest friends may indeed be our relatives!

Who gets your brand of humour?  Likely your family and friends. Laughter is the best medicine and who better to do it with than friends, true friends, acquaintances, family and long lost relatives.   Even the guy at the grocery store, the taxi driver, or the man who knocks on your door can appreciate a friend.  Cherish all friends, both old and new... Make a friend.  Have a laugh and bring some joy and light into the world.

Fairness

We strive for fairness in our daily lives.  In our own nuclear families, amongst our children for instance, the cry goes up if one gets more love and attention, goods, or toys than the other.  As parents, we try to strike this unequivocal balance as best we can.  In our work places and schools, our administrators and bosses strive to treat all of us as much the same as possible.  Policies, procedures rules and guidelines are developed, put in place and followed to ensure this.  When we perceive unfairness or are perceived that way, we have appeal procedures and court rooms and lawyers to outline and defend our cases.  The final word comes from a judge or a jury to determine whether fairness was exploited or not.  Obviously, murder is not fair at first glance, but what are the details of the root cause?  What led this person to perform such an awful act?  Perhaps there were heinous circumstances.  Since the inception of television we see, before our eyes, daily examples of victims who couldn't be blamed if they were to retaliate and take out their tormenter(s) for all time.  We see victims related to child pornography, kidnapping, torture, human trafficking, drug addiction, sex crimes etc. I try not to watch the many shows that instill in us what is actually happening in the world, but after watching just one, I know it exists and to a much greater extent than I want to believe.  Yet we have to accept there are those in the world who harm others because they want to.

The quest for fairness is like all things though.  It swings like a pendulum.  First too far one way, and then too far the other way.  We saw it with the Canadian Gun Registry.  Someone got loose with a gun one too many times before something had to be done.  The whole idea was balked from the beginning by all the law abiding citizens who use a gun to hunt for sport or just plain old target practice.  Everyone agreed that those with a motive to kill would not likely be registering their weapons with the government.  In addition, crimes of passion do exist as well as those by people who are mentally unstable and whose outrageous behaviour is impossible to predict. Several years later and after going through millions of taxpayers dollars,  the registry was scrapped.  Does that mean the dangerous gunslingers have gone away? Don't be too complacent.

Unions in the workplace have played a big role in bringing about fairness for workers who were being exploited.  Decades ago, there were wildcat strikes and people jailed so that we could enjoy a decent working environment today.  The pendulum was far out of alignment in those days and unions were instrumental in getting things righted.  They are to be commended for their work.   Years later though, and depending upon the workplace, sometimes the quest for fairness has resulted in an off-kilter pendulum once again.   Those employees who have worked and represented workers at the local level have done their level best.  The bigger the union though, the less involvement from the guy on the front line and the less communication of what is happening.  Consequently, the little guy isn't having alot of input.  As a result, sometimes huge unions operate unfairly in the eyes of the individual worker.  Would it be wrong to realize that there may be a new chapter about to turn the corner in this quest for fairness with workers?  Does a new reality and era have to involve confrontation and poor or toxic relationships between management and workers?  Is there a better way?  Is there a collaborative method ready to emerge that that might result in a win-win situation?  We all need time to stop and think.  We all need time to understand what is fair and what is right for all.  The pendulum has swung too far and needs to be righted.

Look around at the infrastructure in our cities, towns and rural areas that surround us.  All this was dreamed of, planned for, and built by our forefathers.  Just how smart were they?  Smarter than us?  Think of the ancient people and all that they built.  They did not have computers, or GPS's, neither digital nor analog.  They had the sun, the moon, the stars, the directions, time, and math as their constant educators.  Our forefathers built giant bridges, buildings, roadways, waterways, and dams.  They were great architects and adept at manipulation of objects...the pyramids, for example.    People feared God, yet treatment of others was not stellar.  The pendulum was very much to the bad as far as treatment of people was concerned.  Punishment involved being pulled apart on a rack; having eyes plucked out, or hands, or heads chopped off.  Boiling oil was poured out of castle towers onto invading marauders.  I like to think we have come a long way.  We don't really do stuff like that any more.  We just nuke each other.  :-(  See where the pendulum is?

In our quest for fairness, we get involved in wars where we perceive injustices to others.  Take Afghanistan.  Women and men alike in our part of the world are outraged by what we perceive as atrocities to their women.  Fourteen or so years later of our involvement with their foreign occupation, the behaviour continues and it's become apparent that it's time to move on.  Plenty of goodness resulted from our involvement, such as the building of much-needed infrastructure.  Our soldiers were loved and developed many positive relationships with tons of very good people.  Many soldiers lost their lives and are mourned greatly as a result.  We learned something.  We learned about trying to force our brand of fairness  on others.  When power is held, like a wolf in sheep's clothing, under the guise of a radical religious movement, it is a tough pill to swallow.

In our quest for fairness, we follow our own religious doctrines or spiritual callings, whatever they may be.  A large percentage of us attend church, help others such as the sick, the impoverished, and those who struggle.  We all know how the religion pendulum swung too far in the colonial days with aboriginals and residential schools.  In Canada, more and more in the last few decades we have heard of one or another lawsuit that was settled in favour of a victim of some sort of abuse at the hands of those who were instilling their brand of fairness.  The church helps with building community, with keeping rules and mores.  It helps people feel a sense of love and belonging and spirituality.  People in some cases this decade, and more than ever before, are tending to use the church for obtaining a menu of services....baptisms, marriages, and funerals.  We consider ourselves full-fledged Christians, but may have our own individual relationship with our creator, rather than attending regularly as a group in a building.  We may have good intentions to attend church, but working and family responsibilities can get in the way.  We keep one foot in the door though, not wanting to cut ourselves off entirely.  Is the pendulum swinging too far the other way, or is this only a new  direction for people who are inherently good and who are struggling to cope with the designs of their existing reality?

Time and the counting of it will march on.  The pendulum will exist and we has mere humans will try to keep it centred.  The key is the weight of it...when it starts to build momentum, how do we get it stopped?

Four Seasons vs One Season

I am totally amazed.  I have only been blogging since December 31, 2011, which makes it almost five months.  Today, officially, there were 900 people in total who have viewed my blog!  753 from Canada; 66 from the United States; 42 from Russia; 15 from Germany; 4 from the United Kingdom; 3 from Thailand; and 2 each from Australia, Brazil and Latvia.  At first when I discovered how to check my 'audience', I was floored at these climbing numbers.  What I have found out since is that there is a button at the top of the blog that says "Next Blog".  You click it and it takes you to somebody else's blog.  Try it yourself and you will see what I mean....I expect for the most part that's how readers are happening onto mine, not by design, but purely by accident.  Who knows if they even read it or not. I hope so, because if some of the stories make me laugh, then surely they're making some other person smile too.

I'm so happy with the way this year has turned out weather-wise.  In this part of the world, we've had day after day of lovely weather all through the Summer, Fall, Winter and now Spring.  2011-12 has given us the best weather we've had for years.  I love the changing of the seasons and don't really know how I would fare in a country that only had all hot or all cold.  To me that wouldn't be too much fun.  Personally, I think Spring is the best season because as the snow melts, the water starts to run and the air becomes incredibly fresh with the humidity moving to normal.  The birds come back and start to build nests and things outdoors start coming back to life.  The trees start to bud, plants poke through the soil, and the grass turns green.  All this tends to sneak up on you because one day the trees are bare and the next they are full of leaves.  It's incredible to watch. 

The melting of water bodies is also amazing.  The best part about the Saskatchewan River in Saskatoon, for instance,  is when the ice chunks are going over the weir, near the railway bridge.  That is a mesmerizing sight that will keep you spellbound for as long as you stand there.  I could hang around and do nothing else but watch that scene by the hour.  Unfortunately, you have to time it just right, because the ice flows don't last very long.  It doesn't take much to miss the whole performance if you aren't careful.  Watching a lake thaw is also a timed event.  It doesn't look like much when you look out across it.  Just the lake frozen solid and covered with snow.  You know the weather has warmed up considerably, so you to realize that the ice is getting really rotten and slushy underneath.  You know that one day soon that blanket of ice and snow will magically become a big body of  water that moves to and fro with the gravitational pull and gets thrown around in the wind to form white caps.  Too many people have learned the dangers of rotten ice the hard way.  The ice may have been ten inches thick and great for ice fishing when it was minus 30 for weeks on end in January...but give it several warm weeks and that changes way too fast.  Remember some lakes have currents in them just like rivers, so that makes them unpredictable for somebody like you or I to play around on.    You might have guessed, when I see trucks and ice fishing shacks out on the lake in late Spring, I catch my breath.  The ice can go out from the lake in very short order, so if you're sitting there watching, be careful not to turn your back for too long or  go get a coffee, or visit the washroom because you just might miss it!   I'm kidding!...It probably doesn't happen quite that fast, but maybe...

Sometimes we get snowstorms in Spring and the snow is really wet and heavy.  That's a great time for snowballs and snowmen, but not so great for shovelling driveways and roof tops.  We had one like that this Spring, especially bad in the area that includes our lake.  The first thing that happened was trees snapped off or got bent right over.  Power lines fell and the power went out.  There was at least a couple feet of this wet, heavy snow and it took my son several hours to get out with his truck and up the fairly steep hill that leads out to the main road.

Imagine if you lived in a country near the Equator.  They never get snow.  They don't even know what it looks like or how it feels.  Now think about this, some likely don't understand, even in some parts of Alberta that in Saskatchewan, snow makes a sound....it crunches under our feet when we walk on it or creaks under our tires when we drive on it as the temperature hits minus 40 celsius.  My cousins were raised in Alberta by home grown Saskatchewan parents and this concept had to be taught to them.

If you live in the Arctic, I would think you definitely know what I'm talking about.  My brother worked for a seismic crew on the Beaufort Sea when he was quite alot younger.  He didn't have to watch the show "Ice Roads" on T.V., because he actually experienced driving on them.  I don't know if I could do it.  I guess the biggest problem can be from driving too fast.   If a wave gets rolling under the ice, because of increased speed, the pressure could cause the ice to break. The program itself shows these huge semis loaded with things like logs that must weigh a ton driving across a frozen body of water.  And you thought your job was stressful! My brother also talked about staying in a camp in the Arctic where their camp houses were up on huge pilons (stilts).  The reason for this was because of the polar bears who would otherwise ransack everything in search of food.  Those folks living near the Equator don't have to put up with anything like this.  Well, they do have to deal with other problems like scorpions, alligators and lions....but that's another story.

We don't either for that matter, but we do have to contend with surviving the winter.  Even with furnaces and car heaters, we still have to be careful.  A number of years ago, many people will remember a lady going missing in Saskatoon.  Months later, it was discovered that she had probably hit black ice, lost control and slid into the river, car and all.  I wondered why she just wouldn't crawl out of her car and come to the surface.  I never thought about it, but found out that even though the car makes a hole in the ice, the river is still moving underneath.  Chances are the person wouldn't surface at the same entry spot and wouldn't be able to break through the ice.  What a tragic thing to happen.

When you think about it though, there are lots of activities you can do winter or summer.  I just don't like extremes of either.  Heat is OK when I'm near a place to go swimming.  I like moderation in all things, including temperature.  I would never do well in a desert.  My friend is currently in a very hot country for a short while.  It is between 40 and 45 degrees there every single day. He says everything moves so slowly and there is a certain loss of civility.  I think I would get cranky too having to contend with that kind of heat every day myself.

So, I'll be happy enjoying the four seasons.  Watching them come and go and changing my life to accommodate them passes the time and brings me peace, a breath of fresh air, and most often a smile.