Courtesy of Anvilcloud.
CAN YOU FILL THIS OUT WITHOUT LYING?
1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth?
- coffee. What else?
2. Where was your profile picture taken?
- in front of the Pacific Ocean
3. Worst pain you've ever experienced?
- trapezoid muscle spasm. I would rather have a baby than do that again.
4. Favorite place you've traveled to?
- Blue Ridge Parkway
5. How late did you stay up last night?
- About 11:30. I mostly wait till my husband has finished watching TV.
6. If you could move somewhere else, where would it be?
- I like it here.
8. Which of your Facebook friends lives closest to you?
- Alice
9. How do you feel about Turkey burger?
- Ick
10. When was the last time you cried?
- Monday
11. Who took your profile picture?
- the YD. I think. could have been Tam.
12. Who was the last person you took a picture with?
- I take a lot of nature shots in the yard. A deer and fawns were photographed Monday.
13. What's your favorite season?
- Autumn
14. If you could have any career, what would it be?
- artist/photographer.
15. Do you think relationships are ever worth it?
- Depends
16. If you could talk to ANYONE right now who would it be?
- my deceased best friend.
17. Are you a good influence?
- Hope not.
18. Does pineapple belong on pizza?
- Never
19. You have the remote, what channel?
- I'm a wife. What remote?
20. What are you most afraid of?
- mental degeneration.
Please fill free to copy this and put your own answers in. I would love to read them if you do it, so please let me know.
Wednesday, 30 August 2017
Thursday, 3 August 2017
As sure as God Made Little Green Apples
I love our
apple tree, or trees I should say. The major tree, trunk almost hollow with
age, is the last of the trees planted in the old orchard created in the 19th
Century on the land we bought in the 1970’s for recreational use. The smaller
trunk is, we assume, grown from seed that germinated under the original. When
we first bought this land, there was an old gentleman named Pollock McDougall
who filled us in on a lot of the history of our place, and he told us the tree
was a Macintosh planted around the turn of the century, one of two, the last
trees planted. It seems to exist with only the bark to support it at the
ground.
In Bloom |
The
original orchard was fenced with rails because cattle or sheep had been grazed
on the field around it. It was in terrible shape when we first arrived, with
some trees down and others half broken, but most of the trees were producing
wormy and scabby apples and I could easily gather enough for a pie when I
wanted one. There was one antique snow apple tree that produced a few amazing fruits
every year. From the other trees, my mother collected boxes full one year and made
apple jelly.
A Sad old Orchard |
We spent
several years trying to bring the trees back, pruning and spraying and
chopping, but the better the apples became the more bears and porcupines and
raccoons and squirrels attended the orchard, breaking off big branches from the
brittle old trees and creating havoc. JG shot a few, but since we were only able
to defend it on weekends, the trees were killed one by one until only the one
Macintosh remained.
We decided
to build our forever house where the orchard had been to take advantage of the
fall of the ground that gave us a walk-out basement (and a miraculous lack of
bedrock). But we kept the Macintosh.
putting in lawn seed around the apple tree |
A fall haircut. With cat. |
As I watch
the juvenile birds’ antics I also see the bare branches and diseased leaves. I
also see a great many little green apples, soon to be little red and yellow
scabby apples, beloved by squirrel and deer. The deer like the leaves as they
fall as well.
The deer,
in fact, seem to be taking over. I looked out the kitchen window a few days ago
and saw a sleek young doe eating my orange lilies. !! Deer are not supposed to like orange lilies;
the flowers bloom with impunity in every ditch. Not mine. This [censored] doe
and her friends have stripped two lily beds in my yard. And we feed the
wretched animals fine deer ration regularly. One of my Facebook friends lost
her geraniums to an equally deranged doe and is threatening to shoot.
What would
our world be without birds and trees and flowers? Without deer too, beautiful
and unpredictable animals that they are. I imagine, sometimes in my worst
moments, a wildfire roaring through our peaceful wilderness. My husband
imagines bulldozers and a pod of ticky-tack houses built on the other side of
our road. We do not have to imagine the
climate changes as they take place under our noses; the disappearing Monarch
butterflies; the changes in bird populations; invasive species of weed in every
ditch, and the dead branches and leaves on my brave apple tree. There are still
lots of little green apples for the deer this year but I can foresee a time
when they will be gone, when so many things will be gone.
Is this what it looked like on the tree in Eden when we were tempted and we fell? |
Friday, 23 June 2017
A few reflections on being full of holes
The thing that hit me is called an NSTEMI. I had to
look that up and I bet most of you will too. For several months previous to
this collision I had been complaining of severe back and gastric pain and
fatigue. And I had been convinced that my back was the problem to the point of
snarling “It’s my BACK!” at the wonderful NP who was looking after me when he
wanted to do heart tests. Duh. The poor guy relented and sent me for a back x-ray
and it, surprise, showed a very large aortic aneurism. Had to be fixed! I was
sent to the vascular surgery at the Ottawa Hospital and one day, I think, ahead
of my pre-op tests the NSTEMI hit me, at home, in the evening and JG said, as
he had been saying for a month, “Shall I call an ambulance?” and I finally
agreed.
The next while is a blur in my mind but, when I
finally was aware again, I found myself in the OHI (Ottawa Heart Institute)
scheduled for bypass surgery. Also, I was hooked to oxygen, hooked to two
separate bags that had to be rolled around on a pole and was entertained by a
succession of smiling nurses and technicians who all wanted to stick a needle
into some portion of my anatomy. A hospital is a strange place. The food was
terrible. The noise is incredible. I lost a lot of weight and a lot of sleep, but
did not lose my mind because of my wonderful daughters who distracted my mind
with ideas for bathroom renos and because of their wonderful friends who
smuggled in doughnuts and drinkable coffee.
It is disconcerting to go from a person who thinks she
is healthy except for her back to a patient in a hospital with two Very Serious
problems. These dismal diagnoses made me very angry. At first, I was mostly
angry because I was not dead and felt completely lousy. It would, I mused, have
been much easier all-round if one of the VS problems had killed me on the spot.
However, as my brain came back on line and I got a little more observant, I
could see the worry in my daughters’ eyes beyond the cheer and smiles; I could
see the panic in my husband. Friends dropped by to visit, some to cheer me up
and some because they said they needed to see me. I stuck a notice on line and
was overwhelmed by how many people there were who wished me well.
It was not easy, but I stopped being angry and started
to think. The decision was that I had to do this. I could not let everyone
(including myself) down. Although I was
not very enthused about major heart surgery and a life sentence of prescribed
exercise and diet, no smoking and a lot of hassle, I could imagine these things
and, except for the smoking, live with them. What I did not expect was to be
punched full of holes. Even while I was still stowed in a hallway, nurses were
coming at me with needles, some of them trailing student nurses and encouraging
them to make their first try at establishing a cannula. At 3:00 AM.
The holes? Blood for test taken every morning,
fasting, by a lovely woman in a sari whom I started to call the Butterfly
Vampire. New cannula positions every couple of days. After the bypass surgery,
one massive hole in my chest and four more where veins were extracted from my
leg. After the vascular stent four weeks later, two more in the lower abdomen
and several in my back from spinal anaesthetic, plus a few others here and
there, where drugs were injected.
Other delights included being forbidden to use my arms
and upper back for six to eight weeks while my breastbone, which had been sawed
in half, knitted back up again. I am now trying to get the muscle back, at a snail’s
pace. Restricted fluids, a heart-healthy low-calorie diet, daily weight
monitoring and lots of post op tests to check on the surgery results. After I
was allowed to go home, this meant trips back to the city, driven by my poor
husband. And even the car trips hurt, as the various procedures had wrenched my
neck and back and the muscles kept locking up. This last problem made the rehab
walking and exercise a lot (not) of fun. I think I was on at least a dozen
medications when I left the hospital and I only kept track of them thanks to
the ED who numbered all the pill bottles and correlated them to a list and time
of day.
I made it through all this. Cranky, depressed, and
with a tendency to fall asleep every time I sat down, but improving anyway. I
can now drive again and iron clothes and walk for over half an hour at a slow
pace. I have weights to lift that JG bought for me and an assortment of wildly-coloured elastic bands to pull. Since it is local strawberry season, I am
cheating like mad on my low-calorie diet but managing to do without a lot of
salt, to eat plain yogurt and to (mostly) eat my fruit and vegetables. It is a
life sentence alright, but it is life. It almost wasn’t.
And I have a lovely renovated bathroom.
Tuesday, 3 January 2017
A Somewhat Late Year End Post
However,
I am now back to being good for about half a day of activity. Christmas was made wonderful by the YD booking us into a Hotel for the two days of the Festivity and both daughters cooking amazing meals. Otherwise everything else around here is way behind. I am lucky to have a
fine woman who comes in and cleans biweekly or the Board of Health would long
ago have shut me down.
We are not so delighted with the snow
though, as poor JG has had to clear it three times already, growling, and is now preparing to cope with a two day ice storm. His fall this autumn was a literal one, cracking two ribs, and while he is now mostly healed, things were painful for a while.
So much for the gloomy news. The Hall where I volunteer had a most popular fundraising dinner (and their very reluctant treasurer is still sorting out all the bills in the hopes of making sense of what was spent and what the net will be).
Our Refugee Committee has successfully settled two families and is awaiting its third. The school age kids of the first family that arrived had a successful school year and the family is adapting beautifully. Mother is now confident to zoom around the town all on her own and Father’s English is coming close enough to adequate for him to work full time. He is translating for second family, in fact. The Committee has worked its collective head off and we are apparently a model for other groups to copy. I should add that I am responsible for neither the name nor the logo!
It is fascinating to watch my grandkid turn
into a teenager, grow like a weed and despite the growth spurt continue to do
well with her gymnastics. Unfortunately she cracked an arm bone just before Christmas, but it is healing well and not getting in her way too much. It is difficult for gymnasts at her age if they grow quickly as their centre of balance changes and they need to
revise a lot of techniques. Miss G is coping and has placed on vault at ever
meet so far.
Awesome. She
is in Grade 8, whatever the French for that is.
Early last winter the YD and I and a friend had a lovely vacation on an island called Bequia, part of St Vincent and the Grenadines. The house that we rented looked like this
and we spent a lot of time lazing and swimming and eating.
Do you mind if I skip over the American
election? Incroyable! It has generated a lot of marvellous cartoons, though.
JG’s poor mother finally managed to die
this fall. She was 99 and her last years were not good ones for her, physically
or mentally. She is now at rest, thankfully, and we are not slogging back and
forth to Fort Erie any more.
We have seen a lot of the YD’s cat and dog.
In fact, they are here now for a week’s stay. Callie the cat was
her usual grumpy winter self as she cannot understand why her lovely screened
porch is not surrounded by leaves and warm breezes but is instead covered with
this stupid COLD white stuff. She kept demanding to go out there and almost
immediately demanding to come back in and warm up on the dog’s bed. Shammy, on
the other hand, loves snow even when it involves Mary wiping her face and
picking snowballs out from between her toes after every carouse. Lots of deer
to chase, too. The hunters do not seem to have reduced our population of does
at all. And we have seen a gorgeous 12 point buck since the close of the
season.
After a day and night of snow and freezing
rain, Jim is getting into his
abominable snowman outfit to go out and start clearing, once he gets the snow
shield on the tractor, that is. He bought himself a new auger last year that
throws the snow an amazing distance and so I am staying here until he is done
working around the house. Next he will be shovelling the roof. Where are the
damn reindeer with a plough instead of a sleigh, I ask.
Have a wonderful 2017!
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