Spinning your wheels

Spinning your wheels

Waiting...waiting....waiting....what do you do now that your relationship has ended?  The word is out, or so you think that you are now alone.  After all, this isn't small town  or high school anymore.  This is being middle aged, living life in a city where you didn't grow up, in a big cruel world. By now, your entire world is full of couples and families living their daily lives, possibly sympathetic, but largely oblivious to the unique needs of you, the single person.  I believe there is a more sympathetic view toward the new widow or widower, but even so, many of the circumstances can be shared by those divorced, or those never married. The married person I understand, believes those not married to be living a grand social life....Would that be true in your case?  Surely, not mine.

In some cases, friends may invite you to attend functions with them like dinners or dances, as the third party. I don't know about you, but once may be enough to try that.  There's nothing like being the third wheel. Uncomfortable to say the least....especially when the friend insists you take a turn on the dance floor with their spouse and you are left feeling awful because you have to decline.  Why?  You can't get past the feelings..and what are these feelings you ask?  The kind where you don't want to horn in on any type of relationship of any possible friend.  You don't want to ever come between your friends and their partners.  You know that, but do they?  You will never know for sure, but do they actually cast sidelong glances your way thinking it would be best to ease away from a potential problem?  Could happen and does., in fact I think it's normal behavior and very common.  The other feeling is when those at the function know you and your history and understand that your friend is sharing their mate with you so you don't feel left out...all out of the goodness of their heart.  Nice of them, but totally says something sad about you.  The bottom line:  You shouldn't have tried to go to something like that so soon...like a Christmas party.

Back to the drawing board, you join a support group for those finding themselves suddenly single...The opposite sex are few and far between at the first meeting, and although disappointed, you still hope and pray the few there don't glom onto you in any way, shape or form.  It's too soon you tell yourself.  They must have issues or they wouldn't be there.  Just like you and you have enough of your own, so you can't possibly take on somebody else's.  One's too tall and one has funny eyes...You wish you could hide under the chair or escape out the window, but you hang in for the entire first session because you are too embarrassed to leave.  You start to sweat and turn beet red...You might miss the second session for this very reason.  By the third, you realize you are still looking for answers and really there is no one else to turn to.  In fact, the leader is delivering such great information, it would be a shame to miss out on any of it, so you go again.  By the time you get over 'yourself' and calm down, you come to the realization these people have about as much interest in climbing your frame as nothing.  All they want is a new friend, and if you're smart, you eventually get to that point too.  As a result of these support groups, maybe some participants will connect with each other in a romantic way, but if they do, they are in a far different place than you.  At the very least, you will make contacts and friendships that will likely always be there.  Six weeks comes and goes pretty quick and your weekly sessions end. We all agreed we were glad we went and felt better equipped to face the world.

Next is the inevitable hook up by a mutual friend or relative.  You possibly talk on the phone to the new person and then agree to meet somewhere for coffee.  You have your family on high alert and possibly driving around the block in case there's something amiss.  If you could put the police on speed dial you would.  You agonize about everything they might show up with, but especially the most intimate things...teeth condition, smell, cleanliness etc. And you go finally and meet them...Although it may not be love at first sight, you sit through the session anyhow...for the sake of the friend who set you up....and for yourself.  You decide upon leaving that this person is definitely not for you.  They talk too much, or have a funny look about them.  Yet, within the next day or so, they now show up at your house, unannounced....Although caught off guard, you invite them in  for a cup of tea. Once again, possibly not knowing how to shut them out, or even not knowing a polite way to tell them to take a hike.  Underneath, you secretly hope and pray it will work out so you no longer have to be alone. (What happened to being happy in your own company?) They continue to show up at random times and phone and start monopolizing your life.  You start getting used to them and they to you.  Occasionally, they make you laugh.  You meet their family and they meet yours, and on it goes.  You remind yourself that middle aged relationships are probably different than those in your earlier years.  You're likely never going to find your perfect ideal  mate...If you think you're going to wait around for perfection, you will be waiting forever.  So the relationship moves forward and you look forward to time when you can be together with that other person. So that's how it goes for possibly a very long time and then quicker than it started...the relationship is over.  One decides to move on, but both know without saying that the break was inevitable.

Time alone is healing, but you really do need to learn how to be happy with your own company.  Really, we can all be happy spending time by ourselves, even though nobody would argue that you live longer with a mate.  Couples seem to have so much more fun...just like blondes, that may be a myth.  Fun, love and caring for another person or whatever (dog, cat, fish)  does make the world go round.  Unless of course you are co-dependent, then you seem to have to live for someone else and can't be alone.  Let's say you're not, I don't think I am.  If you are freshly out of a relationship for whatever reason, be sure to give yourself time to grieve the loss.  If you dive right into something new, it could be a mistake.  I'm just saying give yourself a chance to spruce up in every way possible before making a move, especially in the self confidence department.  Personally, I would like to join up with others in places like at an old time dance club, card playing, neighborhood crafting..things I promise to do once I'm not so busy working full time...a cop out of course.

Online dating is what's left if you don't belong to community groups, clubs, or the bar scene.  Online dating can be quite disheartening.  Just when you find somebody you think might be good, they want nothing to do with you.  Basically though, I feel like there's something wrong with going through pictures and discarding possibly perfectly good people on the basis of how they look. We all know people with golden personalities and wonderful senses of humor that we love to be around.  Maybe they aren't great to look at, but we don't even notice it because they make us feel good.  That is the piece missing with these profiles and pictures.   Now for sure, there are people on there who look like they fell asleep in the gutter and had someone drag them out and take their picture to post...I'm not kidding.  There are people who refuse to post a picture and expect you to pay attention to them.  Are they kidding?  I started talking to someone like that, who did agree to post a picture.  Unfortunately, I discovered mid way through our initial discussions that he was newly out of prison, living in a basement suite in a neighboring village, looking for work...  Then there are the pictures of people who look like models...beware...these can truly be scammers and they will say whatever you ever wanted to hear all your life.  You are beautiful, they love you, they can't live without you.  They think only of you and on and on.  Run, don't walk.

I have met with a few members of the opposite sex through online dating....Most have not appealed to me. One had a mouth as foul as the sewers of Paris....and was nothing to look at.  Another was so dirty, I don't know how he got cleaned up long enough to have his picture posted. I tried dating someone from another culture for a time, but although he was a fine person, the cultural and age differences became far too pronounced.

You hear of old friends and acquaintances who also suddenly find themselves single.  You wonder if you should reach out.  You hesitate for fear it is too soon or that they think you are being pushy.  You want to be supportive, but you hang back.   If you're anything like me, you recognize other worldly signs and mine seem to come forward in dreams.  I have had on occasion a newly single male come to me in a dream.  In the morning, I have to think about the possibilities.  The dreams always surprise me...and there have been a few.  I would like to contact the person then, but doubt they are even aware of the concept not to mention open  to it...too weird.

I am not alone...there are many other singles both male and female, silently going about their business. If they find someone, I am very happy for them and wish them all the best.  I hope things work out.  If nothing else, you get to widen your circle of friends and maybe keep looking.  Life goes on, and one day maybe you will realize it doesn't really matter.  You may never meet your soul mate or the "one" or even the person who moved in and out of your life for a time.  This might just be it....you and your world...So enjoy your families, your grandchildren, your friends and co-workers.  Take pride in what you do and what you are contributing to the world just by being in it.  Love the outdoors and the changing of the seasons.  Find beauty, laughter and love in yourself and everything around you.

By the time you're elderly, many will be without partners, but a strange thing could happen...suddenly social lives could zoom into high gear.  The once middle-aged person is now eligible to join a local seniors group or move into a seniors housing complex and their lives come alive again.

Hang in there.

Extended Family

Extended Family

I received an email from my first cousin's daughter as did some others.  I don't know what degree of relationship she and I have...second cousin or what, but here is what she asked:

"Hello ladies! I am writing a somewhat autiobiography of my family, and I was wondering if any of you ladies have any stories that you could share about my grandma Dot. I have lots of stories about my grandpa but not many of my grandma. I'd love to hear any stories that you may have that I could add to my paper! If you do you can message them to me on here or email them.... anything that you have would be greatly appreciated!! Thanks!! :)"

I thought for awhile, but it didn't take too long to write back.  After all, it's how a person made you feel that impacted your life and I guess that's made up in the details of the interactions you had with them.

"Hi Erin,
Aunt Dot...she was great! She had this great laugh and was always making some wisecrack joke or comment. She was a smoker...but so were most people in those days. She was an LPN or CNA, not sure which, but she worked at Melfort Union Hospital for years. She told me she stayed at the Nurses' Residence when she couldn't get back to the farm at Meskanaw in bad weather. That place is torn down now I believe. By the time I had to enter the Melfort Hospital to give birth to my first baby, a son, there she was. She clucked over me like a mother hen. She and dad and my mom had figured this all out ahead of time, because I was blissfully ignorant about what was to come. She stayed with me my whole seven hours of labor and rubbed my back with every contraction. They asked me if she could come into the case room for the actual delivery and I said yes please!! (That was October 4, 1976 and a real winter storm was happening outside. The next day (since we owned the flower shop) my ex-husband, took her a dozen red roses and she was thrilled. By the time my daughter was born, Aunt Dot had retired and I sure missed her. Another story about your grandma Dot was when my mom and dad had the funeral home. I can't remember who had died, but it was somebody we all knew. He was in the show room in his casket. She asked if she could go downstairs by herself and pay her respects. She came back up after awhile...really, really flustered. She said while she was standing beside the casket, head bowed, suddenly she felt this sensation of feathers ruffling across her face. She believed totally in ghosts and was convinced that whatever happened was because of the person in the casket. I still remember her talking about that. She was also superstitious as anything. Still during the days of the flower shop, she absolutely trained us not to take red and white floral arrangements to the hospital, or else we were asking for three deaths. Another thing, talk about independent women! I believe she, Aunt Grace and Aunt Laura were WACs in WWII. I think they worked in some factory out East for awhile during the war. Also, she learned to drive a car when very few women did. She drove right up to the end of her life, when she and Uncle Mac had gone on a trip the day she died and she was the driver, even though she didn't feel good. She raised four kids and worked full-time, so that's a huge accomplishment doesn't matter which era we're talking about. She was a diabetic and took those early insulins and pills that were not nearly as good as they are now. She developed a bit of a shake at times in later years because of these meds. She looked after her diabetes as rigorously as she could because as she would say, she had to if she wanted to keep living. She was a role model for me, that's for sure. She was someone who didn't beat around the bush. She would call a spade a spade, but didn't try to hurt people's feelings. She was a good person, no doubt. She was always very hospitable if you dropped by for a visit and was always glad to see us and me. At one point, she had some kind of  hemorrhage that affected her vision, and that slowed her down, but she didn't spend her time feeling sorry for herself. She was always a going concern. She loved and fussed and worried about all her own children and grandchildren. She used to drop by the funeral home for coffee and to visit with mom and dad and of course all us kids. She would talk about how their life was when they were kids on the farm. She would tease dad by telling tales about him....like that he did mean things to his sisters. Of course, we thought the sun rose and set on dad, so we would look at him and he would never admit to anything. Everyone always loved Aunt Dot because she was just so easy to get along with. We miss her!"

Her response:

"Thank you so much Jean!! So many details that I can add! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!! :) It's great to hear so many things about her that I never knew about! :)"
 \
And me again,

"You are most welcome, it was my pleasure! Good luck, not only with the paper, but on getting to know who your grandma was! Thanks for asking."

.......................................

Aunt Dot was actually a twin to Aunt Grace.  The two of them looked totally different from my perspective and if you didn't know, you might not ever have guessed.  Aunt Grace married, lived in Meskanaw and gave birth to eight children.  I remember visiting them when I was a kid and having their family visit ours.  On one visit, it had been raining, so we all had to wear rubber boots.  We played out in their yard which seemed to have old gnarly trees and great forts.  I remember another time when she had a new baby, I think it was Olive.  I, for some reason was standing over top of the crib at the head end so the baby had to look back over her head at me as she lay on her back.  Aunt Grace told me to move to the side because that was not good for the baby to strain to look back like that.  I have always remembered her advice.  I only saw Aunt Grace sporadically after they moved to Salmon Arm, B.C.  One time was a wedding in Alberta and for some reason I was riding in a car with her and Uncle Stan.  She had her arm around me the whole way and was smiling and talking to me like I was the most precious thing on earth.  She was just like that, so full of love and kindness for people.

These twin girls had two other sisters, Aunt Nell and Aunt Laura.  I saw both of them quite a bit, since they both lived in Melfort, albeit Aunt Nell for a shorter time.  She too moved to B.C. where her two sons lived.  Aunt Laura spent many hours visiting and caring for her Mom, my Grandma, who lived in the local nursing home.

Brothers of the twins were Uncle Neil, Uncle Ed, Uncle Bob, and my dad, Glen.  As you can imagine, these families also had a great impact on my life.  I have many cousins and other stories to tell about all these people, but that is for another time.  :-)

Melting Pot

Melting Pot...

All of a sudden, the readership of my little blog has jumped to over the 10,000 mark!   How amazing!  This week it's South American countries I see listed in my "audience".  Last week was the Ukraine. Why these fits and spurts happen is beyond me, but that's okay, they make me happy.  (Especially if they actually read them and not just skip onto the next one!)  This month on my blogger statistics page it shows Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Paraguay, Portugal and Columbia.  (Isn't this a wonderful tool?)  Can't say I've ever know anyone in those places...today or in the past.   This week is Sao Paulo, Sonora, Rio de Janeiro, New York and Moscow...all places that show up on the Live Feed at the bottom of  my blog.  The Live Feed lists who's been there looking (only their country) and I guess it's what they call 'in real time'.  Alot of these places are HOT countries and I think I might understand how it happens that they get to reading a northerner's blog. I guess it's a chance for them to experience cold winters and places with seasons vicariously through someone like me...a blogger who tells a story.  If you're from somewhere hot and you blog too, then maybe I can share your balmy temperatures  when it's minus forty for days on end here.  If you can live life through the eyes of someone else, I guess that's the next best thing.

Tonight, I ventured outside after supper.  It's only -20, but there's a wind, so probably closer to -30 with the wind chill.  I put on big boots, ski pants, toque, infinity scarf, really thick gloves, and a long jacket.  Sound like a pain?  Well, it is, and probably one of the reasons I hardly do it this time of year.  I had to shovel my sidewalk and  driveway earlier today, so got a taste for 'dressing up' so to speak.  The real treat is the fresh air...it gets in your blood and then you want more.  Just because of all these awesome places showing up in my blog, I decided to talk about some of the cultures I've been exposed to in my life.  People are people and I've known and  grown up with a whole variety being a Canadian. It's always good to reminisce about the fun times, and the differences and similarities between their families and mine. Living in Saskatchewan, there really were a large number of different cultures such as Ukrainians and Poles from Poland, Swedish and Norwegian, Scottish, Irish, English, East Indian, Pakistani, French, to start with.   Make no mistake, two nationalities might seem almost the same, but they are not and are quick to point it out.  All of these were mingling with the people already here, the Cree, Dene and others. In past decades, we have been joined by many from countries not seen here much before.  I have friends who are Iranian, Chilean, Guatamalan, East Indian and know Canadians living in Thailand and other countries.  Many live in warmer climates, like Mexico, even if only for half the year.

By the time my generation came along ( being born in the mid 1950's), many immigrant  families had lived here in Canada for several hundred years.   At least two generations of all of us "immigrants" had come before, or so it seemed.  People nowadays are much more open about telling their true-to-life stories publicly than ever before.  Little did we know, but many fled their homeland because of tyranny, political strife, famine and/or poverty.

From what I can tell, most immigrants are nothing if not preservers of their traditions and culture.  In fact, the towns and surrounding communities get immersed in each other's ways, so not only their way, but ours, and their food, and ours.....and especially, did I say their food?  So much so, many once unknown dishes to one culture have become staples to the others.  I'm talking about dishes like perogies, borscht, and cabbage rolls for instance,  borrowed from the Ukrainians.  I can't speak for other provinces, but I expect the situation is similiar elsewhere in Canada. 

About forty years ago, I knew a Ukrainian baba (grandmas)  who would sell her homemade perogies for ridiculously cheap prices....like $2.00 for ten dozen.  They were the good ones, the little ones...not those big fat ones with thick dough that some machine cranked out.  This was dough rolled out to a sliver on a countertop by a lady, as strong as an ox.  She had lovingly formed, filled and frozen the tasty potato and cheese morsels side by side on a tea towel covered cookie sheet then placed in the freezer.  Once frozen, they were put into a clear plastic bag that was tied with a twist tie.  All you had to do was pick them up and pay, then take them home to enjoy.  So easy to prepare, simply drop into a boiling pot of water and wait for them to rise to the top.  Drain, cover with melted butter and onions and add a dollop of sour cream.  Presto!  You had a feast fit for a king! Those same perogies today still aren't very expensive and are not too hard to get your hands on for special events like family gatherings, Easter, or Christmas.  

Nowadays, it doesn't much matter where you go you will find someone who has some sort of different heritage than your own around here.  Kokums (Cree grandmas) know how to make your mouth water with their bannock.  These are similar to a biscuit and really tasty.  I have had bannock several times, and once again, it is delicious and a relatively low cost cultural food.

In my family and many, many others, we made teeny, little dill pickles from the cucumbers in our gardens. We always had dozens of sealers full to add to any meal for most of the winter.  It's only been the last few years that you could actually purchase them in a store.  Beet pickles were another favorite that I noticed have shown up on store shelves within the last decade or so.

There are regularly planned galas to celebrate culture in many cities.  In Saskatoon, every August there is a huge event held in multiple locations around the city to showcase the different cultures living here. They have feasts at each pavilion, dancing, singing, bands playing music, and of course food and drinking (and not just coffee and water :-).  The events include displays of  handiwork, arts, and crafts and every manner of dress that can show off a culture. Every time I go, I try to visit the pavilions of my own heritage - Norwegian, Scottish, and Irish.  Plus, I like to attend others such as the Philippino, German, American, East Indian, Greek, and Jamaican....to name a few.  The idea is to purchase a passport booklet and get it stamped at every place you stop to visit.  There is always fun, cultural items to purchase and people absolutely flock to this annual event. It includes most everyone in the entire city and rural areas and many volunteers work extra hard to make it such a huge success.  I went to the home page and found that 2014 will be their 35th year in Saskatoon.  Check them out at www.saskatoonfolkfest.com.

I learned quite alot making my way around to the different pavilions over the years.  The first year I ever went was with my Mom and Dad and we went to the Norwegian pavilion.  It was in the Marion Graham high school and there were signs all over with the word "OOFTA".  (Forgive me if I've told you this story before!)  Now my grandpa is Norwegian and he would always say HOOFTA as an expression.  As little kids, we took to using it too....just out of habit and being copy cats, of course.  You know, monkey see, monkey do.  I still find myself saying it!  Little did I know that it really was an expression used widely by Norwegians.  At that pavilion, we ate blotkake (a type of cake) and crumkake (a type of pastry)....both so melt-in-your-mouth as to die for.  We had always had tastes of lefse (a type of soft-dough flat bread) growing up, but never cut up into these teeny little rolls buttered with brown sugar and cinnamon....(Actually, at home, we had generally eaten half the lathered bread at one sitting!)

I'll give you some of the highlights, but as you can imagine, there is always plenty more going on than this little blurb can tell..  At the Irish pavilion there was much drinking, dancing, singing and merriment.  No fights...  At the Scottish, a pipe and drum band was performing and they were serving hummus.  At the Ukrainian, there was scrumptious food that without a word of a lie, 300 people were lined up to get.  Traditional Ukrainian dancers lined the stage.  At the German pavilion, there was sausage and music, at the Greek we got skewers of souvlaki, and they were oh so tasty!. The Philippinos had the most beautiful handiwork for sale, and I remember buying this massive lacy, crocheted pineapple-patterned table cloth... for next to nothing.  I think I was over the top by the time I ate at the Jamaican pavilion because I started to get an upset stomach.  Maybe I'm just not used to so much variety, let alone have a spicy palate.  The American pavilion had popcorn and a Blues singer strumming away.  Other years I have attended  a variety, but overall, they are all a genuine feast for the senses.  You go there with great expectations, run into all kinds of people you know or not, and leave with a full tummy and toes just a'tapping.

Democracy with freedom of speech and religion is a wonderful right that we hold dear in this part of the world.  Many of us have days when we tend take these freedoms for granted, but for many others their new reality is far too precious to ever forget.

The Parkade

The Parkade

I've been catchingl the odd ad on TV for a show that lets you hear the wail of a sasquatch.  So much so that I recognized that sound twice now when exiting my vehicle on a high floor of the parkade at my downtown office.  It's either a sasquatch awakening to the cold morning temperatures, or some sort of road construction equipment making a similiar sound way off in the distance.  Whatever,  the noise is mournful and makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck right in the heart of the city!

That parkade is quite the place.  The ceilings are low and there's really only room on the ramps between the many floors for one car at a time.  Because one ramp services two floors,  I travel up 13 flights and down 13 flights every single day...My dad would be horrified that I might get big arms, but it hasn't happened.  Really, one arm doesn't ever get stronger than the other from turning the steering wheel, because its equidistant.  I think it also helps with the batwing problem that many women tend to develop...mine, as it turns out, aren't even as bad as that girl on "The Sweetest Thing" movie...You know, the one that was on the TV show "Married With Children". (Probably because I have much more body fat than she)!  I thought that trek up the 13 flights would get on my nerves, but strangely enough, the parkade does the opposite and soothes me instead for some reason.  The sunlight shines in at all different places and is something new every day.  The pigeons that used to inhabit the place, especially those relieving themselves randomly on my floor and right at the threshold to the elevator/stairwell area, seem to have vacated the premises, at least for the time being.  At times, the wind, rain, and/or snow whip through the open spaces and leave water or ice on the floors. There are barrels of salt and gravel around so the surfaces get these treatments to avoid ice build up.  Overall  though, from first-hand experience, I know you always have to be careful about black ice after September, since the concrete walls and posts are very unforgiving when you hit them.  I am not alone in this.  I witnessed a colleague backing out who peeled off her passenger side mirror on one of the big posts.  She was so embarrassed and worried about what her husband would say. ..especially since it wasn't due to black ice.      :-)   Later when I saw her, she told me the amount of the bill and it was astronomical.  I, sympathized because I myself, had at one time seriously misjudged how much room I had turning left into the vacant spot across from mine.   My vehicle still has a little scratch on it.  I get to park right next to a wall, so usually back in.  That way my passenger door is against the wall, and I can actually get out of my vehicle.

In the last few years, because of car break-ins I assume, parkade attendants have emerged.  These have all been male immigrants who are very respectful, friendly,  and serious about their jobs.  They all have had something in common though...having a hard time staying warm given our prairie winter weather.  Imagine coming from a hot country to here and finding a job where you have to stand or walk around all shift on ice cold concrete.  They are allowed to enter the stairwell where it's warm and watch out the window for trespassers, and that's what you sometimes see.  I absolutely do not blame them.  Not surprisingly, several have come and gone from this challenging position....One used to wrap himself in a blanket in addition to his winter coat and walked around shivering every solid day for months.  One tended to be quite stern and even acted like a traffic cop going out into the busy street, stopping the fast moving traffic in order to help stream the parkade drivers out.   I, for one appreciated it, because we are not far from one of the bridges.  If there is an accident on the bridge, traffic can become grid-locked in short order.  I have sat in my vehicle waiting to get out of the parkade for a couple of hours on more than one occasion.  I know Saskatoon drivers were not ready for his actions, but it was okay by me!   He's gone now and I don't know the details of his departure.  I think a new company may have taken over because there seems to be more than one attendant. The common denominator is that whoever is working stands guard at at a fixed spot close to the entrance moreso than I have ever seen before.  I smile, wave glibly, or nod my head every time I go by and they always make a similiar gesture in return.  They can tell we belong by our colourful parking tag hanging from our rearview mirror.  It's funny to see cars that don't belong.  Generally, they are teens heading for the roof...you can use your imagination.  Other times, they are older folks who try to look nonchalant and think if one stays in the vehicle, the other can just "run in ".  I'm not sure how the new parking guards handle this, but I can imagine.

Electronic doors were installed at the entrance and exit lanes a few years back.  All day they are left wide open, but after hours you have to swipe a FOB to open the entrance door.  On exit the door sensor recognizes the vehicle and the door automatically opens up.  This, however, does not always work as one of my colleagues can attest to.  Last winter, and before the new group of attendants started, more than once, you would go to drive out and see several of the large and long overhead electrical cables ripped out and dangling on the ground just at the exit. This does not give you a good feeling whatsoever.  Had to have been vandals is all I can think.

The parkade elevator is definitely one of a kind.  I have to say, ("touch wood"), that it has most often been quite a reliable unit for me.  For others, maybe not.  It is not the smooth, sophisticated type that you might find elsewhere.  I am not exaggerating when I say it is very rough around the edges.  I say this because it is notorious for bouncing up and down like a trampoline.  It seem like its held together with massive rubber bands. Honestly, at each floor, as it comes to a stop, it physically bounces up and down about three  to four inches, three to four times in rapid succession...with you in it, I might add.  It creaks loudly with every bounce so that no matter what floor you're on, you can hear it coming.  Bouncing and creaking on every stop all the way up to you or back down again.  When you first start riding it, you pray like crazy every trip. Incidentally, people generally only ride it going up...I think we probably hold some sort of record for people using the stairs on the way down and now you know why.  As a matter of fact, I run down 13 flights pretty well every day.  Occasionally, I take the stairs up, but I don't like the feeling that my lungs are bleeding by the time I reach the top.   All the newcomers to the workplaces  in the buildings surrounding the parkade get  started out parking on the top two floors and the fear in them is quite palpable.  You can see it in their eyes on the first bounce.  They laugh that nervous little laugh that people tend to get when they're scared, and you just try not to embarrass them and go about putting them at ease.  Now I know what airline pilots go through.  I don't usually see the same newcomer twice, so I don't know what happens to them.  I do know that they haven't ridden enough to know to press the Ground Floor button when they reach the top floor.  They just get off and forget to send it back down to the rest of us...bless their hearts.  We forgive them though, because we were there once and know they are traumatized.  They soon will learn that the thing takes forever and get the hint without somebody being tempted to put up a sign (like me).  They either quit their jobs or get moved to a lower floor I guess.  I don't know how that happens because my whole office is still relegated to parking on a really high floor. Guess you have to have pull to get moved down, but the last time I had pull was when I was a little kid.  Regardless, I for one have come to enjoy and think fondly of our idosyncratic elevator.  Not only is it not boring, but you get to share it with all types of people you don't even know.  They are every profession you can think of and dressed in all types of different fashion and baggage and it's truly an experience.  Some speak, and some do not, some have flowers or shopping bags full of stuff...but in general, at least 80%, at the end of the day, will wish you a friendly "good evening" and that is a friendly and heartwarming thing to do, don't you think?

The parkade is attached to my building, but you have to go outside the stairwell through a door to the back alley and back in through at least three more doors.  Me, I have three more to go through after that before  I can actually put the key in my personal office door.  All in all, I have to open seven doors between my vehicle and my office.  Do you think that might be just a titch excessive, well...you can get used to anything....As Anthony Hopkins says to Alec Baldwin in "The Edge".... "what one man can do another man can do" and "today I am going to kill the bear"....If you have not seen the movie....do so, it's great!  Out back of the parkade is a back alley area surrounded and shared by several big buildings.  There is a built-in ashtray for smokers and they are often crowded around shivering, catching a quick puff.  At certain times of the day, if you are lucky enough, you will see a street person rifling through the ashtray looking for cigarette butt.  These are some of the joys of parking downtown!  At least you can't say it's boring and I have yet to run into a sasquatch!

 

Kids Teach Us So Much

Kids Teach Us So Much!

These funny little critters say and do the darndest things.  We marvel, we laugh, and moon over their every word and action.  When they first learn how to talk, the sounds of their tiny voices are so soft and sweet, we think it's music to our ears.  We can't believe how smart, lovable, cuddly ... and full of kisses and hugs they are.  We let them fall asleep on us and their warmth is pure bliss that envelopes us and makes us almost fall asleep with them.  They remind of us of things we loved and may have forgotten a long time ago.  They know how to smile and their laughter sounds like something from the angels in Heaven, and we love to hear them laugh. In fact, for a lift, we go out of our way to find videos of babies or little kids laughing because there's nothing to compare it to...it's the best sound in the world.

Kids see things as black and white....there are no shades of grey in their little worlds.  It's either good guys or bad guys.  Their little friend is either sharing with them or not.   Someone is a stranger or not.  In a restaurant, it's hard for a four-year old to understand that all the people at the nearby tables are strangers and that we at our table are not strangers to ourselves but strangers to everybody else.  Confused?  So was the four-year old.  Their dogs bark, go outside, poop, get a treat, and play with them.  They have an imaginary pet dragon living in their back shed with purple and pink polka dots. They know this because grandma tells them so for their bedtime story :-).

In a child's world, late day snacking is not  a half-way deal and demonstrates how persistent kids can be.  If  allowed to get hungry, they're soon going to eat  you out of house and home.  They don't care whether it's too close to meal time or not.  They know where the snacks are and will be like a moth to a flame until they get 'something' into their growling little tummies.  They will fling open every cupboard door and dump out the boxes onto the floor...like crackers and spaghetti for instance.  They will open the fridge and pull out the cheese strings and the beer sticks.  They will shove them in your face and ask that you peel them.  They will ask for the blue Freezee, but if you don't have blue, then any colour will do... Note to parents:  Freezees should be left out to thaw for a little because especially for two-year olds, they don't understand that hanging onto a really cold Freezee will turn their little hand into an ice block.  Certainly, nobody likes a brain or a hand freeze..

They would prefer jelly beans or licorice but will settle for yogurt, milk, or cookies.  Ice cream cones, pudding, and Jello are all-time favorites.  Yet, savvy parents are persistent too.  They know there is a trick to snack time.  Timing is everything, but remember, you may or may not beat them at their own game.  There is no guarantee you will win, but take heart, everyone loses once in awhile.  Parents know there is only a very small window of opportunity to work with.  Snacks have to happen before hunger pangs get sharp.  If not, once you're here, it's all overeating and totally wrecking any chance for the next nutritious meal.  Adults do exactly the same thing, remember?  The better idea is to offer cut up fruit like bananas or apples, along with Cheerios or another healthy cereal much sooner while they're still playing and before they even start to think about their tummies.  Keep them hydrated too because thirst sometimes feels like hunger. Staving off those intense cravings early enough is a parent's persistence at it's best!

Kids generally know no fear and have great imaginations.  They will jump into your arms from half-way up the stairs without even an inkling that they could be hurt by the fall.  They fall backwards onto the bed or couch like nobody's business.  Of course, little by little, trips to the emergency room happen, stitches happen and they learn that they really can get hurt...Since they have a steady diet of superheros, they may tell you that they are a superhero.  They aren't lying....at a certain point in their lives I think they really believe it.   Let's hope they don't think they can fly...  After all, it would make sense since most of them have at least one life-sized red or blue cape in their bedroom.  They wear it playing around the house, visiting at their friend's house, or even out shopping at the mall with Mom and Dad. (This is when someone has to have a serious talk with them about what is in their imagination and what is real).  Their pyjamas are Spider Man or Tinker Bell.  Their t-shirts are Super Man or Hello Kitty.  Everything else is either a Ninja Turtle, Star Wars,  Dora the Explorer, Diego or Batman....you get the idea?. Their sheets and clocks are Thomas the Train, Buzz Light Year, Toy Story, or Cars.  Their blankets,bicycles, helmets, running shoes, back packs and lunch boxes are all something of note too. Is it any wonder that little girls sometimes grow up to think they are princesses who look like Barbie?  After all, they get to dress up any time of the day or night.  Wearing ballerina outfits, princess ball gowns, fairy dust  and make up, they can serve tea to anyone.  How could you refuse whether you're at home, daycare, the neighbour's, or Mom or Dad's work?  They love all things in miniature like Polly Pockets and dinky toys like cars, trucks, motorboats, motorbikes, buses, and semi-trailer units.  I think to begin with all kids like bugs and frogs and other little things they can examine at length.

Wearing something plain is almost unheard of....But, I went ahead and bought all my grandkids matching flourescent green t-shirts with writing that said "I'M KIND OF A BIG DEAL!" Because, yes....you bet they are...they are a REALLY big deal and I hope they never forget it. I want them to feel so good about themselves that they are unafraid and have the strength to grow up and conquer the world.

Kids are nothing if not the product of all the generations that have come before them.  They have the benefit of learning everything we know up until now.  They get to watch either a VHS Pinocchio video or a new show on NetFlix....they have their pick.  They have all the Golden Books and Nursery Rhymes we all had as kids plus a whole pile and I mean a whole pile more that have sprung up since.  They have reruns of Mr. Dress Up, Mr. Rogers and Sesame Street along with Whinney the Pooh, Garfield and all the new shows from today. The kids of today will be nothing but brilliant if they can absorb even a fraction of this tremendous amount of knowledge. Knowledge is key, so if it helps, then good.

Children are great sports and very open to any kind of attempt an adult makes to play with them.  Doesn't matter how silly or goofy, a child will play along and give you the benefit of the doubt that you know what you're talking about.  You can make up anything and they will absolutely play along.  If you don't believe me, just try it some time.  They don't generally tell you you're stupid or give you heck.  They don't do this because they are too busy grinning from ear to ear and enjoying the attention you are giving them, no matter how little it might be. Just go and lay on the floor and see what happens.  Within minutes, they will be crawling all over you and jumping on you and tickling you.

Kids have excellent memories.  Like elephants, they never forget.  They remember every magical story you ever made up.  Every pretend character you taught them.  They don't forget, even if you do.  As they get older, they know every word to every storybook you have ever read to them, especially if you make a lame attempt to try to shorten or fake your way through it.  Remember, as you get older to see, you personally will need more natural light...This could become a bit of a problem for bedtime stories when you're reading by their dimly-lit bedside lamp...(flashlights work wonders and kids love them!)

Kids are very enthusiastic!  Most grandparents can tell you the rush they get from seeing their grandchildren.  These little people are so excited, they're jumping up and down and squealing with delight just because you came to visit them.  They stand at the window and wave you into the house as vigorously as their little arms will let them and do the same thing when you leave.  They are kissing and hugging and blowing kisses and waving with such enthusiasm it takes your breath away.
At the same time, they're dying for you to talk to them and play with them.  They want you to jump into their world and live it right in the moment with them, right now.  Whether it's to play trains or Ninja Turtles, babies, house or the Wii, they'll play whatever you want.  They'll even give you the best toy or controller.  They are always ready for a game of Eye Spy, colouring a picture, painting, cutting with scissors, and making things from pipe cleaners and play dough.  Most of all they love to play outside.  Running in the back yard, and playing in the sand box is the best. 

If anybody can remind you how to play, it's a kid.  They will cause you to laugh and to cry.  You may think you're teaching them my friend, but really, it is the other way around.  Remember, there's still one somewhere inside you....you just have to find it!


 

Spending Time at the Cabin

Spending time at the cabin.

When I was a kid growing up, my own family didn't have a cabin at a lake.  My aunt and uncle, Hazel and Warner, and their family  had one in the Qu'Appelle Valley  about three hours away from us in Hudson Bay.   Every summer for several years, my siblings and I in any sort of combination would go stay with them at Crooked Lake for a couple of weeks.  We walked daily to the beach which was at least a mile one way, swam and played, and bought a treat at the store.  Every summer I lost weight and came home with a nice tan.  Those lakes in the Qu'Appelle Valley tended to have alot of green algae.  In fact, depending on what the wind was doing, it could have a thick layer of the green slick sludged up against whatever shore the wind was pushing it.  You always had to shower after swimming because you would be nothing but green slime when you came out...especially your hair.  I am a blonde and green is one of my favorite colours, but that was a look I didn't really go with.

We were exceptionally fortunate to have had this opportunity of going to the lake.  First off, it was a chance for us to get to know our cousins and not only learn how to swim but to perfect the skill.  We would always go when swimming lessons were on.  Little by little, summer by summer,  year after year, we achieved one swimmer's badge after another.  Some years we also took lessons at other places such as at our home lake, of Ruby Lake, and eventually one summer I achieved my senior's badge in Yorkton where I had a summer job. I was taking lessons in the evenings at an indoor pool after working during the day in  my other aunt's corner grocery store.  I remember being really tired and barely able to do the number of laps required by evening...but somehow, I passed.  The feat didn't seem like much at the time, until I was asked to assist with teaching swimming lessons at Ruby Lake.  Word travels fast in small towns I guess.  The lessons weren't Red Cross or anything, but some other type that used different fish and aquatic names like "Salamander" to designate levels of achievement.  I felt quite proud and just hoped nobody drowned while under my watch...Luckily, nobody did.  The only thing I didn't like about Ruby Lake were the bloodsuckers.  I came out of the water one day with one globbed onto my forehead...I forget who saved me, but usually a lit cigarette did the trick.  You can imagine the screaming fit I was having, so it wouldn't have been an easy rescue.

In 1972, I graduated from Hudson Bay high school and moved to Saskatoon. My parents sold the farm south of Hudson Bay in the community of Etomami and moved back to their birthplace - Melfort in 1974 or 75.  They bought the local funeral home, lock, stock, and barrel.  About four minutes later, dad also bought another farm.  The previous funeral home owners also had a cabin at Whelan Bay on Whiteswan Lake.  It's a Northern lake that is big and cold and great for fishing but the water is so cold you can't swim in it.  They get around that little technicality by having a big, pool at the lodge that everybody uses.  I only visited that cabin once, believe it or not.   I remember that it was fully, and I mean fully furnished..right down to the last fork, blanket and cup.  My family just moved in and didn't have to bring one thing.  They bought it that way.  I remember it had a propane outdoor toilet that instantly burned up the excrement.  You didn't spend alot of time sitting and pondering life that's for sure.  You also didn't go out for a walk on your own since there were bears lurking all over the place.  Berry picking took on a whole new meaning ...you knew there was the distinct possibility you were going to be sharing your find with a bruin...that is if he/she let you. 

Mom's cousin and her husband had owned the lodge for decades but have retired and sold it within the past few years.  So getting to reconnect with more family was important for my parents.  This was a cousin my Mom had grown up around so it would have been great hooking up again.  The location was also a draw for my Mom' brother Jerry, and his family as well as her sister, Dianne and her family because the men loved to fish.  My uncle's family still have their cabin there to this day.  Their cabin is one of notoriety because, in fact, it is my grandparents' actual house which they had moved to a lot.  I remember when I visited it once it was moved.  By this time it had been their cabin for years.  It looked so different, and although hard to recognize, I could by closing my eyes and remembering the exact location of the rooms.  My kids had spent the weekend with my uncle and aunt, Jerry and Lorna and their family and we went to pick them up afterwards.  My uncle was entertaining them all with his ghost stories at night and in the morning he taught them how to make pancakes for breakfast.  My kids were totally impressed by their time there.   My parents had long since sold out and bought another cabin at Greenwater Lake.  Greenwater is further south and the water is warmer for swimming and water skiing.  There are much better services such as a fully stocked store, a marina, and golf course.  Unfortunately, because it's a provincial park, it can also be an incredibly busy place.

Mom and Dad's Greenwater cabin was also purchased fully furnished. It was a nice place with a big yard and a fire pit in the back. We four kids were all young adults by then, and there was even a first grandchild.  We had lots of company, friends and relatives flocked for the fun, the novelty, and the camaraderie.  Long weekends we discovered, became a zoo on the water and roads of a provincial park.  Our family's cabin was located on the first street back from the lakefront.  We woke up Saturday mornings to find total strangers who had pitched their tents in the ditch right in front of our cabin.  Sometimes there were several tents and they ended up partying most of the night.  We were somewhat dismayed...well really dismayed to the point of disgust and began to pine for a lakefront property.  There was only one new subdivision at Greenwater that had lakefront cottages, and they were far from the main beach and other services.  Lots for sale were as scarce as hen's teeth and way too expensive.

One day several of us, including Mom and Dad, loaded up in the car and went for a drive.  We wound up about half an hour away at the north end of Barrier Lake, also called Barrier Ford.  It was actually really hard to find.  There was a young guy from Tisdale with his newly-built and almost-finished lake front cabin "for sale". It was so cheap it was hard to believe, but the guy was at the end of his rope.  Dad bought it on the spot and that's when he put the Greenwater cabin up for sale.  Mom and I took a drive over there to visit a friend of mine the summer of 2012, Bonnie, and couldn't believe how much development has occurred.  We had a really hard time finding our old cabin!

My son was the baby grandchild with us that day.  It was 1976 and today is 2013.  The cabin is still there and going strong.  It remains a place to be enjoyed every bit as much as it was almost 40 years ago.  The grandchildren increased in numbers to about a dozen and they all grew up there.  Funny thing was, I don't think any of them attended swimming lessons.  Go figure.  Regardless, they swam and frolicked, skied, knee boarded, fished, went boat riding, sun tanned, canoed, played at the playground, went for walks, rode bikes, went paddle boating, sat and laid in all the floating inflatables and the floating lawn chair, went for walks in the forest, went to the store, to the dump, and one of the biggest attractions was to catch crayfish.  At night, when it's really dark, the crayfish venture out from under the rocks to sit on top just below the water surface.  We had no less than half a dozen flashlights and butterfly nets for our young hunters..  We took an old aquarium from home and let the kids catch to their hearts content, then watch the little creatures with the pinching claws swim around trying to find their way out.  The kids ate all sorts of everything fun, played in the sand, built sandcastles and moats, joined us at the campfire after dark, and slept hard every night from all the fresh air and sunshine. 

A number of years later, this first generation of kids have produced more kids...At last count there was an additional 10 kids or so.  In the last few years, my daughter and son have both bought the cabins next to Mom's.....one beside and one behind.  My Dad passed away in 1992, so he has missed alot of good times at the lake.  We generally take turns going there, but not necessarily, and everybody contributes what they can in physical labour, maintenance, repairs and that sort of thing.  The family cabin although getting old seems golden to all of us.  It is a place where memories were made and where family has had many good times together.  So if somebody tells you they think a cabin is not something for them because it's too much work, or they don't want to go to the same place every summer, or people might fight over it....From my perspective, I think they might want to rethink the joy, the history-making and the getting to know each other that is built when a family enjoys and shares time at the cabin.

Handyman...er...woman adventures

Handyman ...er... woman adventures.

I have great intentions.  I do try very hard, but I am absolutely NOT gifted in doing things that involve drills, screwdrivers, screws and especially those funny-looking plugs they call wall anchors....You get the picture.  A simple little thing like hanging a towel rack becomes a nightmare.   First off, I bought two towel racks at Home Depot probably three years ago.  It took this long to get the equipment I needed all lined up and ready to go and I laid it out on my dresser.  I walked past that grouping  every day thinking I should do something about it... probably for the last month.  Finally, today, as I strip and ready myself to enter the shower, I decided it was time.  Of course, I was under a time constraint because it was after 11:00 a.m. and I had an appointment for 1:15 p.m.  I had to shower, eat lunch and get out the door....Doing things under pressure seemed like a good plan.

I thought it would only take a few minutes so why get dressed?  Well first off, I had Phillips screws which I know are bad with that criss cross pattern, but thought I'd use them anyhow.  If you reef too hard on the little fellows, you wreck them and can't get them back out of the wall if you need to.   I have a stud finder so marked the places on the wall for the screws with my trusty pencil...Then I drew a line that I measured with my little level....It was the straightest line I think I have ever worked with.  I was proud. 

Then I brought out the drill...I needed an extension cord, so that meant running to the broom closet in the hall.  I decided I needed my slippers on at least with the rubber bottoms in case of electrocution.  Then I got to thinking....if I do get electrocuted...considering I'm working in the bathroom where it could be wet, maybe I should have some clothes on after all....Nothing worse than being electrocuted and found with no clothes on.  So I threw my nightgown back on.

I chose a drill bit that was big enough to accommodate the size of the wall anchor which is always bigger than the screw.  I adjusted the drill to open to accept the bit and closed it tightly once it was in place.  I attached the extension cord and plugged it into a power bar close by in my bedroom.  My house is old enough that the bathrooms still have those kinds of plugs that don't take three-prongs...you know...for electric razors only.  Nobody has used a razor of that variety in this house for eons, so quite useless really.   I made a mental note that all the cords leading into that power bar were in extreme disarray and that I should organize and label them better.  Pinterest showed how to use bread bag tabs as labels and I'm happy to say I did get that done later in the day.

I took a look at the towel bar and it's two fancy ends.  It came with a little type of screwdriver shaped like an "L".  I thought that was in case you didn't have one of your own.  That was no problem for me since I have all kinds of screwdriver sets.  Regardless, the backsides of the end pieces of the towel rack had  stainless steel holders with two long narrow openings one above the other for two screws.  I decided this would be a cinch, just hang it up on the screws.  I measured where the two holes should be on either side and marked with my pencil.   I drilled the first hole on the right hand side and started screwing the wall anchor in.  About 3/4 of the way in, it got stuck...As I tried to force it in, the entire end still sitting outside the opening broke off....  Oh brother...  Well, I was just going to have to try to put the screw in anyhow.  Brute force and ignorance does have a place in this world and I used it to my advantage.   I started to screw the Phillips screw in and it got stuck about 3/4 of the way in....  By this time I was starting to sweat.

I decided there and then I needed to go on a hunt for some decent Robertson screws.  I walked out to the garage, in nightgown, slippers, unwashed and uncombed, and luckily found a whole container of them and exactly the right length.  I was overjoyed!  I drilled the second hole, deliberately broke off the stuck wall anchor and screwed in the two Robertson screws. They have a square peg instead of a crisscross, so seemed a little stronger and easier to work with over all.   I grabbed hold of the towel rack end, ready to put it all together but was horrified to find the screw heads were too big to get through the holes on the back.  I couldn't believe it.  It was then I saw a teeny little screw on the outside edge of the round towel rack end and then realized what that little "L" shaped bike tool was for.  You have to take the little screw out so the stainless steel thing will come off.  You have to put the stainless steel thing against the wall first then screw the screws through it.  Maybe these are common sense things to you, but NOT for me.  So, I did all that.  I dropped that little screw at least five times, before I got it done....but eventually thought I was homefree...Only to find, of all the idiotic things, that the stainless steel piece was screwed to the wall backwards....Oh frick...

I straightened that all out and actually considered throwing in the towel for the other half.  I talked myself into continuing on though, because I realized if it took me this long to get going, it would likely take me that long again.  So I forged ahead.  This time I got a stool involved so I would have a little more oomph. I did the very same thing as I had for the first one, including deliberately breaking off the heads of the wall anchors.  It was on my left side so I wasn't quite as strong.  This time, I was a little smarter about what was backwards and what was forwards, so it went faster.  I wasn't any quicker about working with that teeny black screw and dropped it umpteen times.  It was getting so ridiculous, I started to laugh out loud and accused somebody from the other side of playing tricks on me and told them they could quit any time.

Finally the ends were on the wall.  I went to put the bar into the little round holders and was ready to kill somebody when I realized that although I had hit the studs, I had neglected to measure the bar...It was way too long for the actual holder spots.  Luckily for me, there is a curly cue on either side that I could set the bar on.   Take a look and see what you think....I did it all right..., but I think it might be upside down....
OMG!!!