My old neighbor and new handyman began working on my basement this week. I'm paying him a flat fee for the whole job and my requests were fairly simple. There are two rooms involved...a small rec room and an even smaller sewing/bedroom. One wall in the sewing room needed to be replaced, all ceiling and walls needed to be painted, and he was to replace the existing carpet with laminate flooring.
One of the biggest problems with this fellow is that he works too hard and does much more than he has to. Having said that, he has already removed every wall from the sewing room (which he will replace), removed all ceiling tile (which he will replace), and removed the whole wall between the sewing room and rec room (which he will replace). He has also decided to replace all light fixtures and completely rewire the basement. This is all wonderful for me but it's a prime example of why he'll never be a rich man.
This whole experience is a bitter sweet one for me because I'm thrilled that my basement is being given a face lift but I ache to see this little 130 pound gentleman pour so much energy and finance into a job he should be making a bit of money on. We're both Leo's and battle constantly about what he's doing...I'd be content with my original requests but he's a perfectionist with unlimited ideas.
Dean is a childhood friend of my daughters and, before he started the job, my daughter told me I'd have to hold him back from overdoing. It's too late! Now I'm getting anxious to see the walls and ceilings back in place. I'll keep you posted!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
Who's Your Baby's Daddy?
While I sit and do my Swedish weaving I like to have the T.V. on so I can listen to various talk shows. One of my favorites is Maury Povitch who has some of the oddest people come on and tell the world their outrageous stories.
Lately the theme is often "who's my baby's daddy" and these segments never fail to amaze me. Being a psychology nut, I'm entranced by these women coming on national T.V. to find out who fathered their children. Some need dozens of men tested!
What I find most disturbing is how many of the men express dislike and disrespect for the women they've shared intimate moments with. Do they really think they're any better than she is?
I married very young...I was 17 and my husband was 20. We had three children all fathered by my husband...how old-fashioned!! My children never had to grow up wondering who their father was. He was the hard working guy who lived in our house and brought his paycheck home every week. He was the guy who went to their school plays and their baseball games. He was the guy who took them camping and on vacations. He was the guy who loved them and supported them. This is the kind of man a woman should choose for her "baby's daddy".
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Dreary Day
It's a terribly dreary day today...overcast and threat of rain. It makes sense that we should use a day like this to do extra work inside the house but I get terribly lethargic when the weather is bad. My spirits and energy rise on warm, sunny days and that's when I usually dive into intense house cleaning...all the while resenting that I'm stuck in the house on such a nice day. Go figure!
My friend phoned last night and convinced me I should go on walks with her and her Bruce Trail friends. I only agreed after she explained that the group I'd be joining is composed of a few 80 year olds. I know that walking is one of the best exercises and really do find it enjoyable, but I've gotten much busier in my golden years and have many things to do that I enjoy even more. Anyway, it will be a new experience going out with this group so it's worth a try.
It's wise to try new things...unless it's something we know we'll hate. A few years ago my husband and his best friend wanted to take their wives on a 2 month sailing trip in the Caribbean (32' boat). The other wife thought it was a wonderful idea but I was in shock. I knew I'd detest beyond belief being confined on a sailboat for days/weeks on end and refused to go. The men went alone and enjoyed themselves on what they considered one of the best trips they'd ever had. The friend's wife joined her husband when my husband came home and they sailed on for 2 more months. They loved it so much they plan to do it again. I salute them! But for me, I'll always be glad I didn't go. Sometimes we're sorry we didn't try a new experience and sometimes we're grateful we had the foresight to say "no".
It's interesting that some of us are more adventurous than others and I've learned not to be ashamed of my need to be on safe ground. We are what we are and that's all we are!
My friend phoned last night and convinced me I should go on walks with her and her Bruce Trail friends. I only agreed after she explained that the group I'd be joining is composed of a few 80 year olds. I know that walking is one of the best exercises and really do find it enjoyable, but I've gotten much busier in my golden years and have many things to do that I enjoy even more. Anyway, it will be a new experience going out with this group so it's worth a try.
It's wise to try new things...unless it's something we know we'll hate. A few years ago my husband and his best friend wanted to take their wives on a 2 month sailing trip in the Caribbean (32' boat). The other wife thought it was a wonderful idea but I was in shock. I knew I'd detest beyond belief being confined on a sailboat for days/weeks on end and refused to go. The men went alone and enjoyed themselves on what they considered one of the best trips they'd ever had. The friend's wife joined her husband when my husband came home and they sailed on for 2 more months. They loved it so much they plan to do it again. I salute them! But for me, I'll always be glad I didn't go. Sometimes we're sorry we didn't try a new experience and sometimes we're grateful we had the foresight to say "no".
It's interesting that some of us are more adventurous than others and I've learned not to be ashamed of my need to be on safe ground. We are what we are and that's all we are!
Monday, September 18, 2006
Packing it Away
Today I began cleaning out my gardens for the winter....kind of early but I leave for Florida at the end of October. I severely cut down the silverleaf dogwoods at the front of the house and proceeded to pull down 4 of the 6 morning glory vines. I can't quite bring myself to pull up the flowering bedding plants yet but will have to do it in a few weeks. I stored the patio chairs in the tool shed and lashed the large patio table on it's side on the deck. It may be my imagination but everything looks pretty neat and organized in the yard this year. One of the reasons is that I've cleared out tons of unnecessary things from the shed and the driveway and given them to Goodwill or tossed them in the garbage. There is still lots to go but I've done enough paring down for this year.
I've spent the last year (since my husband died) removing "clutter" from my house and yard. It's made me wonder why we surround ourselves over the years with so much that we don't need. Part of the reason is laziness in disposing of something once it has no discernible use and part of it is that we think we just might need it again sometime in the future. Another reason is that we can't convince ourselves that this item we absolutely had to have 10 years ago could really have become unnecessary in our lives.
We're a nation of waste and most of us have too much disposable income or credit availability. We're like children who believe all the advertisements telling us we can't live without every new doodad. Then comes the day when we look around us and realize we're being buried in a mountain of clutter. I love to question my reasoning for doing what I do...such as accumulating all this stuff in the first place. The closest I've been able to come to understanding it is that I was feathering my nest. I feathered it a little too long and almost ran out of space for me to be in it.
Last winter I ruthlessly went through my Florida trailer and cleared out 5 years of clutter. It made the trailer look larger and cleaner. I think I've developed the right attitude for getting rid of things...if it doesn't have a purpose, let it go. My next move will be into a smaller house so I keep that in mind when I try to decide whether to keep or discard. My family and friends who help me move will thank me for my choices.
I've spent the last year (since my husband died) removing "clutter" from my house and yard. It's made me wonder why we surround ourselves over the years with so much that we don't need. Part of the reason is laziness in disposing of something once it has no discernible use and part of it is that we think we just might need it again sometime in the future. Another reason is that we can't convince ourselves that this item we absolutely had to have 10 years ago could really have become unnecessary in our lives.
We're a nation of waste and most of us have too much disposable income or credit availability. We're like children who believe all the advertisements telling us we can't live without every new doodad. Then comes the day when we look around us and realize we're being buried in a mountain of clutter. I love to question my reasoning for doing what I do...such as accumulating all this stuff in the first place. The closest I've been able to come to understanding it is that I was feathering my nest. I feathered it a little too long and almost ran out of space for me to be in it.
Last winter I ruthlessly went through my Florida trailer and cleared out 5 years of clutter. It made the trailer look larger and cleaner. I think I've developed the right attitude for getting rid of things...if it doesn't have a purpose, let it go. My next move will be into a smaller house so I keep that in mind when I try to decide whether to keep or discard. My family and friends who help me move will thank me for my choices.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Bootlegger's Granddaughter
I was raised by my grandmother...my mother was there, too, but not involved in my care. Nan (as I called her) was the neighborhood bootlegger so our little apartment was filled with beer drinking men every Sunday. For most of my young years it was always the same men who knocked on the door around 10 A.M. on a Sunday morning looking for the comfort of a glass of beer and some friendly conversation. I used to love to sit in a corner and listen to the stories told and the Irish songs sung...it was always lively and pleasant, not what you might expect in a bootlegger's house. My background is Irish and most of our visitors were also of Irish descent.
My grandmother used to embarrass me, not because of the bootlegging, but because of the orange red hair she sported. Once every few months, when the white hair at the roots measured an inch, she'd use a henna rinse and emerge
with what I thought of as clown hair. She always wore housedresses and only for Christmas day would pull a treasured box from underneath the bed which held her one and only bra and dressy dress. Nan would slave over Christmas dinner and then disappear into the bedroom for her transformation. Soon, the door would open and Nan would walk into the room regal in pink lace, rosy cheeks, and rhinestones. She felt like a queen and everyone would ooh and ahh and tell her she was beautiful. Not me, though, because I was a mean teenager. I wish I could go back and change that!
Nan told me she'd started bootlegging during the depression because money was difficult to come by. She actually made bathtub gin in those years...sorry, I don't know the recipe!! Nan also made hundreds of bottles of preserves during the summer...pickles, fruit, jams, sauces. None of our Sunday visitors left without being given a few bottles to take home. I used to wonder how much this cut into her beer profit.
Over the years, the face of our visitors changed. I remember some of the famous Washington brothers being there...the only black people I knew in those days. Nan wasn't in the slightest racist but had a unique way of expressing it...she'd say they had black skin but a white heart. I never faulted her for her naive views because this was in the 1950's and we were just emerging from the years when blacks were terribly treated. Anway, the Washington brothers seemed to me like exotic creatures because of their musical talents, not because of their skin color.
Near the end of Nan's bootlegging career she began allowing strangers into her home and too many were there to drink into oblivion and then become abusive. All of a sudden our pleasant Sunday get-togethers became drunken arguments between people we barely knew. One even broke a beer bottle and scarred my grandmother's precious diningroom table. That was the day she realized the few dollars she earned wasn't worth the danger she had put herself into.
My grandmother died at the age of 72 in 1961. She was a character to the very end, leaving behind a 46 year old boyfriend.
My grandmother used to embarrass me, not because of the bootlegging, but because of the orange red hair she sported. Once every few months, when the white hair at the roots measured an inch, she'd use a henna rinse and emerge
with what I thought of as clown hair. She always wore housedresses and only for Christmas day would pull a treasured box from underneath the bed which held her one and only bra and dressy dress. Nan would slave over Christmas dinner and then disappear into the bedroom for her transformation. Soon, the door would open and Nan would walk into the room regal in pink lace, rosy cheeks, and rhinestones. She felt like a queen and everyone would ooh and ahh and tell her she was beautiful. Not me, though, because I was a mean teenager. I wish I could go back and change that!
Nan told me she'd started bootlegging during the depression because money was difficult to come by. She actually made bathtub gin in those years...sorry, I don't know the recipe!! Nan also made hundreds of bottles of preserves during the summer...pickles, fruit, jams, sauces. None of our Sunday visitors left without being given a few bottles to take home. I used to wonder how much this cut into her beer profit.
Over the years, the face of our visitors changed. I remember some of the famous Washington brothers being there...the only black people I knew in those days. Nan wasn't in the slightest racist but had a unique way of expressing it...she'd say they had black skin but a white heart. I never faulted her for her naive views because this was in the 1950's and we were just emerging from the years when blacks were terribly treated. Anway, the Washington brothers seemed to me like exotic creatures because of their musical talents, not because of their skin color.
Near the end of Nan's bootlegging career she began allowing strangers into her home and too many were there to drink into oblivion and then become abusive. All of a sudden our pleasant Sunday get-togethers became drunken arguments between people we barely knew. One even broke a beer bottle and scarred my grandmother's precious diningroom table. That was the day she realized the few dollars she earned wasn't worth the danger she had put herself into.
My grandmother died at the age of 72 in 1961. She was a character to the very end, leaving behind a 46 year old boyfriend.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Moslems vs Christians
The news these days is filled with angry, parading Moslems who have taken offense to something the pope said. I always thought religion existed to preach peace and love but all I see in the newspapers and on television anymore relating to religion is war and sexual molestation. How can the rambling words of an old man, even a church leader, cause so much hatred and violence in the world?
I'm an agnostic and have always noticed that religious differences cause much of the world's problems. How many wars have been fought in the name of religion? How many human beings have been sacrificed in the name of religion? Is this what "god" would want? It baffles me that anyone who considers themselves a religious person could commit such heinous crimes.
We have many Moslems in Canada now but they seem rather isolated from the general community. Is it fear or dislike of us that causes the distance? Canada and the United States, being a melting pot of nationalities and religions, will gradually ease the distrust on both sides but it will take much, much longer for this to happen globally. I often wonder if we're actually capable of true acceptance of another's differences, though.
In the meantime, all of our lives will benefit if we banish "hatred" from our thoughts and take a chance at "understanding".
I'm an agnostic and have always noticed that religious differences cause much of the world's problems. How many wars have been fought in the name of religion? How many human beings have been sacrificed in the name of religion? Is this what "god" would want? It baffles me that anyone who considers themselves a religious person could commit such heinous crimes.
We have many Moslems in Canada now but they seem rather isolated from the general community. Is it fear or dislike of us that causes the distance? Canada and the United States, being a melting pot of nationalities and religions, will gradually ease the distrust on both sides but it will take much, much longer for this to happen globally. I often wonder if we're actually capable of true acceptance of another's differences, though.
In the meantime, all of our lives will benefit if we banish "hatred" from our thoughts and take a chance at "understanding".
Friday, September 15, 2006
Flowers for the Soul
This is a picture of the carnations I like to have in my house. One of the reasons I choose carnations is because they last so long as cut flowers. This little bouquet cost me $5.98 and will give my spirits a boost every time I look at it for the next 3 weeks. Pretty cheap mood lift, isn't it?
I used to have over 40 house plants but had to give them up when my husband retired and we were able to spend our winters in Florida. Let's face it, relatives left behind in our cold Canadian winters wouldn't be too thrilled about having to water my 40 plants every week. I now have 3 house plants that winter at my daughter's house where they seem to thrive...they barely hang on at my house during the summer because I tend to forget they're here. 40 house plants remind you of their presence quite easily but 3 lone plants usually become visible only when they wilt and turn brown.
One of the nice things about spending the winter in Florida is to fill the planters at the trailer with colorful flowers at the end of October and watch them flourish through the winter months. Just before I leave Canada, I clean out my gardens and choose a bunch of suitable plants to take south with me. Geraniums are at the top of the list and are allowed across the border as long as all soil has been removed from the roots. I cut them down severely and wrap the roots in wet paper towels and then bag them in baggies or plastic grocery bags so they'll survive the 2 day trip. It's an economical way of adding to my Florida garden.
When I leave for home in April, I gather all the planters and put them together behind my sunroom. They get no direct sunlight but all the rainfall and manage to survive the wicked summer heat...a bit straggly but easily pruned back up.
Just a note: I actually had 4 house plants last October and only remembered to take 3 of them to my daughter. The 4th, a small jade plant, sat forlorn and unwatered for 6 months until I got home in the spring. It's still alive! Isn't nature wonderful?
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Good News
My son-in-law had a cancerous kidney removed last December and has been recovering beautifully ever since. He had one of a series of catscans last week and received news today that all is still well. He and my daughter came here to tell me the good news but, looking at my daughter sobbing her heart out from the tension they'd been under, I could see that this rotten disease is taking a bitter toll on their mental health. Only the passing of time will help heal these wounds.
Many years ago I did volunteer work at the Cancer Clinic. My job was to bring patients into the examing rooms but, more often, it meant just sitting with them and letting them talk out their worries and concerns. It always amazed me how many were long term cancer survivors and, the more distant their cancers, how cheery they were. It must be like being given a death sentence and then given another chance at life. Since that time I've come to know many cancer survivors and I haven't met one yet that had a bad attitude.
Life is often what you make of it but I believe that we cherish more what we almost lose, whether it be life, a relationship, success, etc. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could train ourselves to wake up each morning and say "I'm going to be happy today"...and then be happy? Maybe the cancer survivors have learned that little trick.
Many years ago I did volunteer work at the Cancer Clinic. My job was to bring patients into the examing rooms but, more often, it meant just sitting with them and letting them talk out their worries and concerns. It always amazed me how many were long term cancer survivors and, the more distant their cancers, how cheery they were. It must be like being given a death sentence and then given another chance at life. Since that time I've come to know many cancer survivors and I haven't met one yet that had a bad attitude.
Life is often what you make of it but I believe that we cherish more what we almost lose, whether it be life, a relationship, success, etc. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could train ourselves to wake up each morning and say "I'm going to be happy today"...and then be happy? Maybe the cancer survivors have learned that little trick.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
9/11--A Canadian Perspective
I can't remember a time in my life that I felt such absolute horror as on September 11, 2001. My sister-in-law had phoned and informed me with much sadness that the United States had just suffered a terrorist attack. I turned on the T.V., expecting to hear that some cruel and cowardly terrorist had planted a mailbox bomb, but was horrified to see a large plane fly into the Twin Towers and explode. The emotions that ran through my mind at that moment took my breath away as I sat there in shock watching a scene that will be imbedded in my mind forever.
I'll never forget the scenes of fleeing pedestrians, covered with grey dust and looking almost insane in their terror. When the towers imploded I experienced an anger against the terrorists that bordered on hatred. If I had been the president of the United States at that moment I would have sent every nuclear bomb available to blow Iraq off the face of the earth. And I would have been wrong.
I'm still not exactly sure what nationality the terrorists were but it doesn't really matter. They were misguided by their religious leaders who chose to preach hatred and destruction rather than peace and love for their fellow man. So, do we bomb every mosque in an attempt to stop the evil prophets? I hope we Canadians and Americans, regardless of ethnic origin, have more intelligence and respect for life than to retalliate evil for evil.
Like the holocaust of the second world war, we should never forget what travesties human beings are capable of committing and 9/11 will stand out in history as a day when religion showed it's ugly face. The church, or mosque, will continue to be a powerful influence in our lives, but a religious leader who preaches hatred should be thrown out of the community. I hope and pray that the immigrants to America will develop allegiance to their new country and choose to protect it...because it is now their home.
Peace.
I'll never forget the scenes of fleeing pedestrians, covered with grey dust and looking almost insane in their terror. When the towers imploded I experienced an anger against the terrorists that bordered on hatred. If I had been the president of the United States at that moment I would have sent every nuclear bomb available to blow Iraq off the face of the earth. And I would have been wrong.
I'm still not exactly sure what nationality the terrorists were but it doesn't really matter. They were misguided by their religious leaders who chose to preach hatred and destruction rather than peace and love for their fellow man. So, do we bomb every mosque in an attempt to stop the evil prophets? I hope we Canadians and Americans, regardless of ethnic origin, have more intelligence and respect for life than to retalliate evil for evil.
Like the holocaust of the second world war, we should never forget what travesties human beings are capable of committing and 9/11 will stand out in history as a day when religion showed it's ugly face. The church, or mosque, will continue to be a powerful influence in our lives, but a religious leader who preaches hatred should be thrown out of the community. I hope and pray that the immigrants to America will develop allegiance to their new country and choose to protect it...because it is now their home.
Peace.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Still Computer Illiterate
I guess I was getting a little too cocky about all I've learned on the computer over the years...it's actually a pitifully tiny amount but each new thing learned was thrilling for me. Now I have somehow lost a few dozen pictures I'd saved and have no idea where they went. I also manage to send long e-mails to friends only to discover they received black pages. I'd love to blame AOL for all my troubles but I have a sneaking suspicion that the fault lies with me.
There's not much use in me calling AOL because I never understand what they so patiently try to explain to me. I have many friends who are computer literate but I don't understand them either. Almost everything I've learned to do on the computer has come by accident so I guess I'll just sit and wait until that lightbulb goes off in my head and then I just might find those damn pictures.
There's not much use in me calling AOL because I never understand what they so patiently try to explain to me. I have many friends who are computer literate but I don't understand them either. Almost everything I've learned to do on the computer has come by accident so I guess I'll just sit and wait until that lightbulb goes off in my head and then I just might find those damn pictures.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
I Love The Casino!
I spent 11 hours at the casino yesterday and loved almost every moment. I thought it might be interesting to explain the allure of the casino from my perspective.
First of all, it's a completely anonymous experience because I prefer to go alone so that I can leave as soon as my money is gone. I enter into the casino "universe" and head straight for the penny slots. It matters little to me how much the final payout is...I just want to play. At my particular casino there are only 8 penny slots so you have to get there early if you want one. Yesterday I was a little late and didn't arrive until noon but, lord love a duck, a lady left a machine just as I walked up so I set my butt on the prized chair with the speed of light.
I deposited $20.00 and received 2000 credits...what a joy to see so many credits to play with! Of course, there are lots of options on how to bet but my choice is to bet one penny on each of 20 lines...total of 20 cents. Just think of the possibilities when you're playing more than one line! You win often but usually lose more often. Yesterday, my money lasted 11 hours and I ended up losing $100 but I had a wonderful time. I realize that I should leave when I'm ahead but my sole purpose in going to the casino is to play the slots as long as possible. And that's why I always come home a loser. One day last year I got home at 4:30 A.M.!
While I was playing, the lady sitting next to me was winning big and I was as happy for her as I was for my own wins. We yakked a bit and enjoyed each other's successes. She told me that the man who had sat at my machine earlier had gotten so angry about losing that he had started hitting the machine. I think that's what they mean by not gambling when it stops being fun. I always take in a set amount of money and go home when it's gone. I also explain to myself that I don't smoke and seldom drink so it's okay for me to gamble occasionally.
All in all, I enjoyed the day immensely and will definitely return another day when I can afford it. My only complaint about yesterday is that my butt was sore from sitting so long. Being a penny slot machine addict isn't for sissies!
First of all, it's a completely anonymous experience because I prefer to go alone so that I can leave as soon as my money is gone. I enter into the casino "universe" and head straight for the penny slots. It matters little to me how much the final payout is...I just want to play. At my particular casino there are only 8 penny slots so you have to get there early if you want one. Yesterday I was a little late and didn't arrive until noon but, lord love a duck, a lady left a machine just as I walked up so I set my butt on the prized chair with the speed of light.
I deposited $20.00 and received 2000 credits...what a joy to see so many credits to play with! Of course, there are lots of options on how to bet but my choice is to bet one penny on each of 20 lines...total of 20 cents. Just think of the possibilities when you're playing more than one line! You win often but usually lose more often. Yesterday, my money lasted 11 hours and I ended up losing $100 but I had a wonderful time. I realize that I should leave when I'm ahead but my sole purpose in going to the casino is to play the slots as long as possible. And that's why I always come home a loser. One day last year I got home at 4:30 A.M.!
While I was playing, the lady sitting next to me was winning big and I was as happy for her as I was for my own wins. We yakked a bit and enjoyed each other's successes. She told me that the man who had sat at my machine earlier had gotten so angry about losing that he had started hitting the machine. I think that's what they mean by not gambling when it stops being fun. I always take in a set amount of money and go home when it's gone. I also explain to myself that I don't smoke and seldom drink so it's okay for me to gamble occasionally.
All in all, I enjoyed the day immensely and will definitely return another day when I can afford it. My only complaint about yesterday is that my butt was sore from sitting so long. Being a penny slot machine addict isn't for sissies!
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