All times are not good times. Right now is one of those times. That does not mean there can't be good times in bad times. Nevertheless, some times are bad times. Sickness sucks.
Cancer is a nasty word. Maybe the word is not nasty, but what it stands for is. Cancer was discovered growing in someone important to me.
The good news is that the cancer was effectively removed and will not likely return.
The bad news is the removal of the cancer has harmed a body and taken one person a little too close to death's door.
The good news is the crowd of fine people who came to stand by a hospital bed, who sent messages, who baked goodies, who searched out radios, who called frequently and who didn't call when rest was needed for gathering strength.
We all hope it won't be long before the patient is freed from the confines of the hospital soon and will once again have the opportunity to see the flock of robins that arrives this time of year, the ravens and crows cavorting in the air and the grass getting ever greener.
Saturday 25 February 2012
Tuesday 14 February 2012
Pink Day
Valentine's Day is not right up there with the holidays I enjoy. Sure it is a friend's birthday, no doubt it is many people's happy anniversary or not, but to be truthful it is a day I detest. The day is one day up from Friday the 13th. I don't like the days of love enforcement.
So I will concentrate on thinking of Pink Day today.
I spent the Christmas holidays at my daughter's house with my two sweet, spunky, young grand daughters. My grand daughters spent Christmas Day and the days surrounding it with their daddy and their other grandparents out of town. They had a wonderful time.
When they returned, we had places to go, people to see, things to do, but we needed a Celebration, a low key, one of a kind, stressless celebration. My daughter is a star creator of celebrations, but was fully involved with handy person jobs.
Hmmm. Two little girls three and six.
I am not a big fan of Barbie. They have wonderful times "playing Barbie", but for this celebration Barbie was not a guest. I think for the girls, Princesses have almost reached a saturation point. However there was always the colour Pink.
Before I left Nova Scotia, I began to search out small, things pink that would be of interest to the two little girls. Pink felt markers, Pink computer paper with Pink roses, Pink food colouring for Pink cupcakes with Pink icing, Pink sprinkles, Pink serviettes. Their auntie found delicate pastel fairies to go atop the cupcakes. My biggest investment was in matching cozy, Pink plaid pyjamas for the two little girls and their mummy and me.
On Pre-Pink day, as their mum painted Pink baseboards, in the bathroom she was transforming, we made the cupcakes. When interest waned, they went out to play in the snow as I carried on. They were definitely there for the icing part.
That night we all went to bed in our Pink pj's. Pink morning was much like any morning. There may have been a Pink cupcake or two at breakfast. As the day went on, we set a Pink table, and successfully and unsuccessfully put up some Pink decorations
Then it was time for the games. We made creatures out of Pink pipe cleaners. We drew Pink pictures on the Pink paper then guessed at what each person had drawn. There were gales of laughter, when we finally guessed the inspiration of my daughter's Pink drawing. Let us just say it was an anatomical Pink part of their black cat Betty Consuela.
We ate our dinner, toasted Pink Day with a healthy Pink drink in Pink paper cups, that was definitely not a hit and ate our Pink ice-cream and maybe another Pink cupcake. We wiped our mouths with the Pink napkins. So ended the Celebration.
I think I'll sleep in my cozy, Pink plaid pyjamas tonight.
So I will concentrate on thinking of Pink Day today.
I spent the Christmas holidays at my daughter's house with my two sweet, spunky, young grand daughters. My grand daughters spent Christmas Day and the days surrounding it with their daddy and their other grandparents out of town. They had a wonderful time.
When they returned, we had places to go, people to see, things to do, but we needed a Celebration, a low key, one of a kind, stressless celebration. My daughter is a star creator of celebrations, but was fully involved with handy person jobs.
Hmmm. Two little girls three and six.
I am not a big fan of Barbie. They have wonderful times "playing Barbie", but for this celebration Barbie was not a guest. I think for the girls, Princesses have almost reached a saturation point. However there was always the colour Pink.
Before I left Nova Scotia, I began to search out small, things pink that would be of interest to the two little girls. Pink felt markers, Pink computer paper with Pink roses, Pink food colouring for Pink cupcakes with Pink icing, Pink sprinkles, Pink serviettes. Their auntie found delicate pastel fairies to go atop the cupcakes. My biggest investment was in matching cozy, Pink plaid pyjamas for the two little girls and their mummy and me.
On Pre-Pink day, as their mum painted Pink baseboards, in the bathroom she was transforming, we made the cupcakes. When interest waned, they went out to play in the snow as I carried on. They were definitely there for the icing part.
That night we all went to bed in our Pink pj's. Pink morning was much like any morning. There may have been a Pink cupcake or two at breakfast. As the day went on, we set a Pink table, and successfully and unsuccessfully put up some Pink decorations
Then it was time for the games. We made creatures out of Pink pipe cleaners. We drew Pink pictures on the Pink paper then guessed at what each person had drawn. There were gales of laughter, when we finally guessed the inspiration of my daughter's Pink drawing. Let us just say it was an anatomical Pink part of their black cat Betty Consuela.
We ate our dinner, toasted Pink Day with a healthy Pink drink in Pink paper cups, that was definitely not a hit and ate our Pink ice-cream and maybe another Pink cupcake. We wiped our mouths with the Pink napkins. So ended the Celebration.
I think I'll sleep in my cozy, Pink plaid pyjamas tonight.
Wednesday 8 February 2012
Life's Arrivals and Departures
Beautiful babies, amazing pieces of new humanity, continue to emerge into my life, bringing so much love with them.
These babies are not only my grand children, although to be truthful there is a special spot set aside for them in my heart, but also the extended family's babies, my friends' grandchildren both near and far, the babies of my daughters' friends, the babies of my neighbours and the baby I passed in the grocery store, who gave me a wonderful smile this morning.
The winds of change swirl. What lies ahead for these sweet souls?
As these babies arrive, the grand old dames move off toward new horizons. Just as the babies bring love, hope and innocence into our worlds, these women of force, wisdom and grace move us forward into the adventure of the unknown.
They were once the babies of love, hope and innocence.
Life is a challenging enterprise. These women, living into their nineties, some even passing the hundred year mark, are proof that it is possible to find strength to embrace sometimes with courage, sometimes with joy, sometimes with courage and joy what life offers.
Recently, an elderly summer neighbour died. I valued her friendship. In her nineties she had her small cottage moved back from the cliff. This was no small undertaking. The cliff through time was moving ever closer, as the mighty winter storms crashed the waves against the rock. The act is one of endless metaphors.
The spark of her living that shone out through her eyes will remain at this spot forever. A piece of another's living is left behind and a piece of my living moves forward.
These babies are not only my grand children, although to be truthful there is a special spot set aside for them in my heart, but also the extended family's babies, my friends' grandchildren both near and far, the babies of my daughters' friends, the babies of my neighbours and the baby I passed in the grocery store, who gave me a wonderful smile this morning.
The winds of change swirl. What lies ahead for these sweet souls?
As these babies arrive, the grand old dames move off toward new horizons. Just as the babies bring love, hope and innocence into our worlds, these women of force, wisdom and grace move us forward into the adventure of the unknown.
They were once the babies of love, hope and innocence.
Life is a challenging enterprise. These women, living into their nineties, some even passing the hundred year mark, are proof that it is possible to find strength to embrace sometimes with courage, sometimes with joy, sometimes with courage and joy what life offers.
Recently, an elderly summer neighbour died. I valued her friendship. In her nineties she had her small cottage moved back from the cliff. This was no small undertaking. The cliff through time was moving ever closer, as the mighty winter storms crashed the waves against the rock. The act is one of endless metaphors.
The spark of her living that shone out through her eyes will remain at this spot forever. A piece of another's living is left behind and a piece of my living moves forward.
Wednesday 1 February 2012
P.J.s Too Late in the Day ?
Here I sit at the table in the kitchen wearing my turquoise blue wool socks, my plaid pink cozy pj bottoms, a pink oversized top, covered by a traditional red dressing gown.
The snow is steadily and softly coming down. The roads seem ok here by the shore, but I think the schools are closed. The kettle is boiling water for a second cup of tea.
The trouble is the time is 12:45 pm. What are my ancestors thinking? My grand father came from the "five to seven victory, five after seven defeat" school of thought concerning morning rising. Actually, it wasn't just the rising, it was t he "getting dressed and up and at 'em element" that was more challenging.
To be honest, I would be very comfortable if I could set aside the sense of transgression. Let's hear it for the "my house, my rules attitude". There are no cows to milk or in my grandfather's case no souls to save. There are no doubt, many souls to save, but I'm not going there.
Tap. Tap. Tap on the side door. "@#*&" I have company. Helloooooooooo! Whew!
My friend, from up the hill, dropped in for a tea on the way from getting the mail at the road. She doesn't count as a visitor, as we have been friends since our early teens. I am sure there are still secrets to discover, but a case of possible sloth is of little shock and less interest to her.
The clock keeps ticking. The time is now 1:59. The bell, in my centre of well being, is about to ring.
I am about to get sensibly dressed, bring wood in for the fire, put away the clean clothes, make a try at sweeping clear the kitchen floor.
Then it will be time to do some real living. I will once again take some time to watch the new video of my beautiful baby grandson, enjoying sitting in his Bumbo. He is looking every bit as wonderful with his new blue woollen hat with tiny ears, as the little fellow in "Where the Wild Things Are". Not a bad reward, eh?
................................................................... and she's off.
The snow is steadily and softly coming down. The roads seem ok here by the shore, but I think the schools are closed. The kettle is boiling water for a second cup of tea.
The trouble is the time is 12:45 pm. What are my ancestors thinking? My grand father came from the "five to seven victory, five after seven defeat" school of thought concerning morning rising. Actually, it wasn't just the rising, it was t he "getting dressed and up and at 'em element" that was more challenging.
To be honest, I would be very comfortable if I could set aside the sense of transgression. Let's hear it for the "my house, my rules attitude". There are no cows to milk or in my grandfather's case no souls to save. There are no doubt, many souls to save, but I'm not going there.
Tap. Tap. Tap on the side door. "@#*&" I have company. Helloooooooooo! Whew!
My friend, from up the hill, dropped in for a tea on the way from getting the mail at the road. She doesn't count as a visitor, as we have been friends since our early teens. I am sure there are still secrets to discover, but a case of possible sloth is of little shock and less interest to her.
The clock keeps ticking. The time is now 1:59. The bell, in my centre of well being, is about to ring.
I am about to get sensibly dressed, bring wood in for the fire, put away the clean clothes, make a try at sweeping clear the kitchen floor.
Then it will be time to do some real living. I will once again take some time to watch the new video of my beautiful baby grandson, enjoying sitting in his Bumbo. He is looking every bit as wonderful with his new blue woollen hat with tiny ears, as the little fellow in "Where the Wild Things Are". Not a bad reward, eh?
................................................................... and she's off.
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