Daily Prompt: Take Two – In and Out

I am late getting to the Daily Prompt at WordPress.com because I slept late.  Now the why of sleeping late is rather embarrassing but it goes something like this:

Yesterday I ached

And knowing it must be

From the warm front

Moving in.

So as I finished

The last of my three

Library books,

I laid

All day

Reading.

By the time

I should have

Been sailing off

To the Land of Nod

I was wide,

Wide Awake.

Anyway now for the prompt: Run outside.  Take a picture of the first thing you see.  Run inside,  Take a picture of the second thing you see.  Write about the connection between these two random objects, people, or scenes.

Grabbing my camera I ran outside.  Literally ran since that was the instruction and I am basically a rule follower.

Snow going!

Snow going!

The first thing?  Yup.  I mentioned warm winds the other day and the thirsty force of nature gobbled up my snow.

My  winter

My winter

It’s a far cry from the photo I posted the other day (as above).

Next I ran again. (instructions and rules you know)

 

Windows open

Windows open

 

And this is what came up on the second look: Open windows, every where in the house beckoning in this false spring.

Birds are singing.  Residual snow in the first photo is even less this few minutes later.  The darned old Magnolia tree is again in bud as are so many other trees.  False springs are such a danger for crops due later as a freeze is certain to follow and the rhythm of nature will be off and in the long run it will mean more failed crops, less food and higher priced food in the future.

BUT on such a day (it is 12 cenlsius which in real language is 53.6 F) it is impossible not to let ones heart soar in the glorious warmth.  Yup for Canucks this is almost shorts and Tee weather!  Because after all we Canadians are a hardy lot!

Daily Prompt: Connect the Dots (To the Moon)

Gravity

Gravity (Photo credit: eat more toast)

Today’s Daily Prompt was just too enticing to pass it by. Open your nearest book to page 82. Take the third full sentence on the page, and work it into a post somehow.

Well the first book I grabbed was a notebook so with a little extra lean in the opposite direction I picked up my latest read.  Once I saw it I was tempted to go for another but figured that wasn’t fair.  After all what is the poiont of a game if you don’t follow the rules?

Many years ago I fell into the ‘buzz’ trap getting all caught up with my friends when Weight Watcherswas a relatively new program.  Oh my we counted our proteins, fats, and breads, adhered to three fish meals a week, and made sure we ticked off every wee box for water, milk and fluids.  Our social get togethers amongst the women folk were all about what and how we achieved and discussions ensued on the validity of the program (after all it was over seen by physicians) and how well we were doing.

Weight Watchers company logo

Weight Watchers company logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Now belonging to  an active weight loss club is a lot like being addicted to, say, gambling.  When the scales are not in sight the conversations can be all about your success – how much you lost (or gained when it comes to gambling),-  with little discussion about your set backs or losses.

‘Why you know I lost 25 but must confess I gained a bit back but then I lost it again and I feel wonderful!’

Meanwhile you think to yourself, Honey, I saw you when you joined months ago and the only difference I can see is your hairstyle.

*Actually the program works fine as does any weight loss program **if you follow the plan.

But this post is not about losing or gaining, about succeeding or failing.   It’s about perception and the why of things.  By the way I did all right on the program then and each of the ten times I joined in the following decades.  Matter of fact I will never again even see my initial joining weight (which I thought was soooo huge) but now lies 25 pounds ago quite happily.  This is because I choose to believe the medical data that says an elderly person (well as close to elderly as damn is to swearing) should not be stick thin.  It’s healthy to carry a little weight.  I would also like to say it is all behind me  now (get it? get it?) but that would be way too much of a stretch because in fact it is all in front. haha

But now I realize I can believe pretty much anything I choose..so my hypothesis is that food intake has nothing to do with a generous middle.  It all has to do  with Gravity and the moon, tides and oceans, and because we are 90% water – salt water that is- well we reflect mother earth which lends credence to “‘This is the main reason for the tidal bulge on the opposite side of the Earth to the Moon.” *Gravity by Brian Clegg page 82 third full sentence.

It is quite humorous decades later to laugh or chuckle at our youthful worries and thoughts.  It is also quite satisfying to find joy in the me of now and quite like how I am.  What a difference a little age and wisdom makes.

Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge: Meaningful Possessions

I am a little late to the WordPress Weekly Writing Challenge Being Saturday and all.  The subject matter is ‘ tell us about your most meaningful possession and since I have spent most of my life making sure that possessions were not meaningful, I honestly thought I had nothing to contribute.

Then last night outside under the stars I asked myself that same question and the answer came crystal clear.  I do have one possession that matters.  Would I fight to the death over it?  No, but while I have it with me I will savor the meaning and remember.

Dad's leather purse

Most Meaningful Possession

My Dad is not someone I write an awful lot about which always puzzles  me because he was the center of my existence.  While my mother tried to teach me how to darn socks (darned if I could understand why – being the diva I was I could not see myself ever darning anything), and knit and keep the house cool in  the summer by pulling down the blinds on the east side in the morning and on the west side in the afternoon, my Dad taught me other things.

Have you found it surprising, if you have ever had to clean out a home after someone dies, what seemed important to that person?  Have you ever held an object and wondered why it was stored in a tin box with other seemingly meaningless objects?

When it was time to do this for my father there were a number of treasure found.  His gold ring with his initials had been left to me but I decided it should go to the oldest son of the oldest son and gave it to my brother for his son.

There was one treasure I was not even aware of until about ten  years ago (and Dad died in 1981).  The gift came from my sister.  I wondered at it at first as it was a small suede leather bag measuring three and half inches at its base, two inches at its neck and five inches in length.  And leather tie to tighten it.  Engraved into the leather appears to be a Mayan calander or something zodiac like.  I truly do not know exactly what it is.  This bag and other ‘treasures’ were kept in an old tin box in his top drawer.  It was a pretty beat up tin box and I remember seeing it as a young child and wishing I could see inside.

Anyway I thought this was a strange gift but I was touched deeply and then my sister said, “open it”.

Inside were five pennies, each with the birth year of my brothers and sisters and me, and one nickle with my birth year.

Meaningful possessions

The feeling of holding something my dad felt was important enough to be a tin box treasure and understanding the depth and the heart of my sister was overwhelming.

There has never been another gift that has meant as much and each time I pull that leather string to close the bag I feel like I am ensuring my family is tucked in safely.

Die for it if I had to?  You know what?  Just maybe!

Give Me a Head with Hair, Long Beautiful Hair …or Au Naturel

When I was young I had long beautiful hair. Longer  and shinier than this pic.

My hair in my teens was a shining auburn, below my shoulders and straight as a board.  I ironed it like everyone else even though there was no need.  We rinsed our hair with vinegar and water for that extra shine.

Then something happened – call the 30′s – No not the 1930′s, MY 30′s and suddenly that little bottle of colour became part of my life.  And my hair got shorter and shorter.  So for 30 (seems to be the magical number doesn’t it?) odd years I have helped support the beauty industry by buying product.  Now it is more like this:

So as you may know I seem to be going through a catharsis in my 65th year.  Something, well everything is changing.  I no longer hang ten over the surf board of life but now look for meaning and am living more on purpose rather than by whatever winds buffet me along the road of life.  Well okay I don’t look like that anymore as menopause brought me a short few months of naturally curly hair.  Alas it did not last.

Now it is more like this:

And I have stayed pretty consistent in my color ‘Golden Blonde‘.  Now see what I did there?  That ‘cool’ look or so I thought covers up a lot including the old double or triple chin.

Why the ‘confession’?

Well I took a good look around and noticed that women my age who color their hair, in my opinion look like they have colored their hair.

See I am not sure it makes me look younger anymore.  I think it just makes me look like a woman my age trying to look younger.  I may be off base in this but I am going to try..try..to go back to the 60′s ideas of natural flow no show.  So even though I have been growing that faux girlish look out, when my roots are long enough I am getting all the color cut out.  I mean my hair will grow again and if I look too awful in my natural state I can take up the bottle again but it is such a nice adventurous idea I am going to make it so.

When I do I shall if I am very very brave post a pic.  No promises on that since part of my cathartic change is to be truthful.  And realistic.  And kind at the same time.

What other changes of purpose have I done?  I will have to let you know another time.  Y’all have a great weekend!

 

 

 

A Proclamation of Love, A Declaration of Intent

My ever entertaining 3 year old G2 is telling all who will listen he is going to marry Mommy.  To prepare for said nuptuals he is brushing his teeth at least three times a day, more if he could get away with it.  Today he asked for his shaving kit, a child’s Christmas toy he received complete with cream, razor, mirror and brush and proceeded to spruce himself up.  The same goes for hair combing.

He adores his Mom, her blue eyes, long blonde hair..she is perfect.  Previous to this his affections were reserved for Ariel the Mermaid and then Rapunsel all of whom have long hair.

He first mentioned his intent yesterday and I replied that it was a wonderful idea.  This morning he mentioned it again, watching me closely for my reaction.  Again I told him that was wonderful.  Then he said, “I told my Daddy and Daddy said ‘no’ that Mommy is his.  But I am going to marry her.”  He is pleased that Daddy seems on board with the idea now.

In addition it has become a training tool in matters so far unsuccessful.  He has developed an attachment to his soother lately.  Today Daddy told him to put it away and when he firmly replied, “No”, Daddy said he didn’t think Mommy would want to marry anyone with a soother.

“Fine,” he said and promptly deposited it in the kitchen.  Now if we can just use this to ensure number 2 is properly looked after.

I remember both my sons at the same age deciding they were going to marry Mommy.  Then at about 8 they felt it necessary to assure me that,”Mommy, I will live with you forever.”  And that is exactly where G1 is at that exact age.

Ah the purity and sincerity of youth.  I love it!

11/22/63 ARGHHHH

11/22/63 ARGHHHHH!

I don’t know if it bothers Tabitha King very much that I spend long nights with her husband, but I do know recovery the next day is getting more difficult, but I get sucked into it every time.  Okay, truth be known I am sure Tabitha knows a lot of women spend nights with her husband – and probably men do too.

Stephen tends to be that way.

Now normally I can handle a few hundred pages within a few hours and scarcely notice my addiction until I am faced with what will probably be a very long night.  This was fine in my previous I can sleep as late as I want life, but now I have a cherished responsibility.  And Stephen, my dear frankly does not give a damn.

Ah Stephen

I had a free afternoon so got into 11/22/63, Stephen King’s new killer novel which I cannot put down.  I am 287 pages into it, and (no Rosalyn there will be no spoilers here) and there are a total of 849 pages!

It is now 12:30 am and I have been having discussions with myself about regaining my sanity and putting the book aside until tomorrow evening.  I have tried berating myself, pulling the mother/child self-scolding approach and thought I had actually succeeded when I shut the light off half an hour ago.  But to no avail.

Since these thoughts keep running around my brain, and I blame Tabitha for not being able to control her husband’s attraction for others, I thought I would feel better if I just did this one post.  Something to clear my mind, put things in perspective (NO Chris, once again you cannot possibly complete another 562 pages by daylight!)

Between you and me – if there was even the teensiest possibility I would give it a go.

Now I feel better, have my urges in control and will not, will not I repeat pick up this book again until tomorrow – er – today at 5:30 pm.  I am an adult.  I can do this.  I can.

It is now 12:50 am and I am gong to bed.  I am.

 

The Nothing Saturday AND A Spontaneous RAK

I had looked forward to this day for more than one reason.  It was going to be the first day with truly nothing to do.  You know there was lots that could be done but this day was to be a nothing day by choice.

When I awoke sans alarm at 8:30 am I lay for a while trying to get my head around the idea of nothingness.  I knew I would work on my book for a bit and do a little shopping but the when of it all was pretty vague.  I considered a morning in bed just reading having started Linden McIntyre’s ‘The Bishop’s Man’ the night before.

Then while out shopping I came across Stephen King’s 11/22/63 on a book shelf and could not pass it up.  This means I now have 2 books to read.  Decisions, decisions.

Prior to going out shopping I got a call from my sister in law asking if I wanted to get together for coffee tomorrow.  She was tied up today taking her grandchildren to the Christmas Parade in Cambridge.  Well immediately I thought…that’s something G1 and G2 should see, first because it is a night parade which I always think is nicer than day parades and because my brother was in the parade manning The Kitchener Ranger float and one of their grandfathers was also marching.

Well my day now had direction.  A little voice said but this is the nothing day..the nothing day.

‘Stop!’ I commanded, ‘a nothing day is nothing until something comes along, and really what could be better than a parade?’

So, at 3:50 pm we, the boys and I, were on the road.  It takes about 35 minutes to reach Cambridge while the boys tried to figure out exactly where we were going.  I had arranged to meet SIL at the McDonald’s on highway 24, otherwise known as Hespeler Rd.  We got there early and I decided the boys should eat.  Oh Lord, standing in line in a packed restaurant, with a million children and attached parents trying to make sense of orders, and nowhere to sit.  Gotta give the staff credit.   They handled it so well.  In addition outside the resident a huge trailer had been set up giving free hot coffee.  I have to tell you I have become very impressed with McDonalds.  Some people scoff that they are trying for a different market with their lattes and McCafes but I have to say I am impressed. (I have always felt their coffee was far better than Tim Horton’s – for those of you familiar with Timmies.)

Now this is where the RAK comes in.  We took our food to set up on the curb – best seats ever for a parade.  When we took our food, since there was no room in the inn for dining, we got a spot at the curb.  G1 asked how we were going to get our chairs (which were in the trunk of my car a block away).  I said I could not leave two young children in a crowd to get chairs at which point he said, ‘It’s okay Grandma I’ll get them.” And off he went through intimidating crowds, retrieved said goods and returned. There was an older couple who told me they were just out shopping and once they realized there was a parade they decided to stay.  Since the children were on the curb we had extra chairs which I offered to them.  The lady decided to sit and he stood behind her.  As the evening got cooler I took the blanket to wrap around her.  I never did get their names, but it doesn’t matter as they got to see the parade in relative comfort and my boys got an experience they did not expect.

My sister and I have become avid advocators of RAK’s and seek every chance to perform one.

The boys got to spend time with cousins they normally would not have, and I must say there is nothing like a wide eyed blue eyed cousin  2 years older to make G1 reach new heights of valor, sudden vision of sophistication and of course to call to Santa….all in all the best nothing day ever!

If Snowflakes Fell in Flavours

If Snowflakes Fell in Flavours
 
One or two years ago, thirty odd to be almost exact, I took my children to the Haliburton Highlands each summer to a cottage. It was a delightful little rustic dwelling with a wood stove and screened in porch right on Lake Haliburton with a shallow beach ideal for wee ones and a diving platform further out. When the odd storm came up we would wrap ourselves in blankets and sit on the porch and enjoy nature’s fury as the wind blew horizontal rain and thunder clapped and lightning provided a better show than man could ever construe.


 
Most times the weather was ideal with sun and gentle breezes rustling the leaves of mighty oaks, elms and maples that sheltered us in a world far from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. No TV or Internet just games, running, laughing and splashing ourselves into deep untroubled sleeps at night. The only goal was relaxation and community with other cottagers.
 
We met many people over the years but one family in particular remains a frequent memory. When we first met they were just ordinary folk on holiday and then they told us about their lives. Family singers and musicians were very popular then and this whole family sang and produced records.
 
I don’t remember if we bought the most recent LP (long playing record) or if they just gave it to us but ‘If Snowflakes Fell in Flavours’ quickly became a favourite often played once we returned home. Shortly after that holiday I flew out west to Vancouver Island to visit friends with two young children and took a copy to them.
 
The family of singers have no idea how much pleasure they brought to us and I have no idea what happened to them but for one summer the very thought of flavoured snowflakes brought smiles and happiness to a few of us across the country.

**Thanks to Google again.  A search shows the song  was by Sandy Offenheim and all my favs are there including Let’s Play a Statue Game.  The bio says that Sandy Offenheim is a Canadian teacher, children’s song writer and performer, who recorded four albums of her original kids’ songs with her husband Harold and their children, Nadine and Stephen while they were growing up.

Well I am glad I had that memory today and want to thank Sandy and her family for providing such wonderful entertainment.

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