Another day spent largely on the telephone, pressing 1 for this, and 2 for that, and 3 for something else, until I could talk to a REAL person, who would put me on hold every two minutes or so to go and ‘verify’ any info I required. Whatever happened to those knowledgeable civil servants who could answer inquiries without having to look it up? Have they all retired?? I guess that’s a useless question.
In any case, all the address changes for Helen have been made, so she is now feeling less anxious and more at home. She was also tickled to hear that my son, during his stopover for coffee last night, turned to his Japanese wife and stated, “Well, I guess we’ll have two old ladies to look after when the time comes.” Such acceptance, although it could have been expressed in more complimentary terms, is good for self esteem.
It was my favorite kind of weather today; lots of sun but still cool enough for a sweater (with big pockets for balls and treats) and great for walking with the doggies. The latter part of the afternoon was passed doing just that, much to their delight. Smooch is responding well to training, and Grump is always the perfect companion on or off leash. The two kitties followed behind us slowly, trying to pretend that they were above such silly creatures as canines, but ever watchful of their antics with the squeaky balls. We returned to the house for their supper, which I dished out of the slow cooker where it had been simmering since early morning. I’ve been feeding them more meat than fabricated pet food lately, mixed with pure pumpkin to add fiber and keep intestines healthy. It makes a big difference, especially for Smooch-of the-delicate-stomach, and the cost is about the same if one can visit a butcher for pieces he would discard or sell cheap anyway.
I have a worker/visitor coming to spend the weekend, and welcome he will be! The grass and yard are due for attention, there is a long list of small repairs for the predicted rainy Sunday, and Helen could use some arm-power to carry more boxes upstairs to her room. It’s not at all a bad return for a couple of home-cooked meals and the benefits of enjoying our fresh, clear mountain bush air. A win-win situation.
I’m in that insomnia stage again, where I grab sleep when I can, always fearing (often accurately) that it will be the last for the next 24 hours. Right now I do believe that Morpheus has sneaked in here and is nudging me towards my bed. I won’t take the chance on missing his brief stay, so will say goodnight to y’all.
Sending you big SMILES to sweeten your dreams!!
Luv from the bush in Quebec
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
WHETHER...AND WEATHER
The results of all those tests are back, and the doc actually admitted that I could be right – I’m not in tiptop shape anymore, but it wasn’t as bad as he feared. Most of the symptoms were coincidental (that’s where my self-diagnosis was accurate), all happening at the same time, yet he was wise to be very thorough. He gave me a few rules to follow, then scheduled a follow-up scan for January. We parted friends, LOL.
I did contact my youngest and extended an olive branch of sorts for his lady; her reaction, or lack of, will tell us how much importance she attributes to the wellbeing of her man and her children.
We have been busy with Helen’s moving in; change of address from one province to another takes more time, is more complicated, and the language is a barrier in her case. She does understand most French and English, but panics when confronted with paperwork. It’s a throwback from her days in Germany, where official documents were required to move from one apartment to another even in the same building.
Two rather fierce storms roared through this area; the one on the weekend resulted in a burnt power source for my main computer. My Cuban friend was able to do the repairs on Sunday, which enabled me to continue working the next day. Grateful was me that all my data was intact!
I sat with the doggies on the gallery and watched the second storm roll in, each huge cloud blacker than the one before, shags of lightning brightening the skies, then the boom of thunder resonating in the late afternoon. It was awesome to see, and to listen as the rain approached from far, first softly, then pelting down so loudly that you couldn’t hear yourself think. That’s when my four legged companions looked at me with apprehension, anxious to take shelter inside but unwilling to leave me alone out there. I had forgotten to unlock my bedroom door, which is protected by the hangover roof, so we had to hightail it through the torrents and enter by the kitchen. The three of us were soaked in just that short distance, but my boys think that whatever the mistress does is fine as long as we’re together, so their tails were wagging, and I, feeling like a kid again, was SMILING with the adventure!!!
Sharing those SMILES with you – wet, but warm.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
I did contact my youngest and extended an olive branch of sorts for his lady; her reaction, or lack of, will tell us how much importance she attributes to the wellbeing of her man and her children.
We have been busy with Helen’s moving in; change of address from one province to another takes more time, is more complicated, and the language is a barrier in her case. She does understand most French and English, but panics when confronted with paperwork. It’s a throwback from her days in Germany, where official documents were required to move from one apartment to another even in the same building.
Two rather fierce storms roared through this area; the one on the weekend resulted in a burnt power source for my main computer. My Cuban friend was able to do the repairs on Sunday, which enabled me to continue working the next day. Grateful was me that all my data was intact!
I sat with the doggies on the gallery and watched the second storm roll in, each huge cloud blacker than the one before, shags of lightning brightening the skies, then the boom of thunder resonating in the late afternoon. It was awesome to see, and to listen as the rain approached from far, first softly, then pelting down so loudly that you couldn’t hear yourself think. That’s when my four legged companions looked at me with apprehension, anxious to take shelter inside but unwilling to leave me alone out there. I had forgotten to unlock my bedroom door, which is protected by the hangover roof, so we had to hightail it through the torrents and enter by the kitchen. The three of us were soaked in just that short distance, but my boys think that whatever the mistress does is fine as long as we’re together, so their tails were wagging, and I, feeling like a kid again, was SMILING with the adventure!!!
Sharing those SMILES with you – wet, but warm.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Monday, July 22, 2013
MORE OF THE SAME...AND CHANGES
So – I now have a new roomie. My grandson, Raph, found a better summer job in his own area, and is back in his home as of yesterday. Helen, after a week of quiet reflection, drove down to NB with a buddy on Saturday, collected some personal things, and returned here last night. Hopefully the suggestion that she renovate the area upstairs to her own taste will keep her mind busy while she deals with the aftermath of some rather turbulent changes from the past few months. She’s a strong lady, loves the bush and, most importantly, has been accepted by my two doggies.
The power was restored just in time for our annual birthday party that was held Saturday afternoon until late into the evening. Once again I was surrounded by loving family and friends, including all the little ones jumping in and out of the swimming pool, crawling through the jungle gym, or coming to sit on our laps – wet bathing suits leaving their mark time and time again. My Rug rats, accompanied by a recuperating Daddy, spent the day with us, and I got in as much hugging as I could before they would escape, squealing, to rejoin the fray. DIL was not there, of course, and even if I sound like a B-tch saying it, the day was more pleasant because of her absence.
It’s a delicate situation, one that needs to be fixed. An intense dislike for a member of the family does not sit well in my mind or heart. It is extremely difficult for my son. He and his siblings are not used to their mother being the one holding back when it comes to soothing ruffled feathers, ensuring that our family knot be safe and strong. Each of them will lightly mention it during conversations here and there. Fortunately they know better than to pressure me, and I appreciate that my refusal to discuss it further is respected. However, watching my youngest, who hardly left my side during the whole party, I realized that it has gone on long enough; he’s hurting badly.
The party over, I took a long walk with my doggies, absorbing the soft night sounds of the bush. It is the usual way to do some serious thinking when solutions are required, and it didn’t fail me. I believe I have come up with a plan, one that we can all live with, to at least initiate a reconciliation of sorts. I see the doctor for my test results today at noon, but after my appointment I will contact my son and start the procedure. I’ll be throwing the ball into his lady’s court. Her reaction will determine the next step. Regardless, even if it gets worse before it gets better, I will do all that I can to discourage her creating this rift in our circle. If she continues, on her head be it.
It’s a beautiful summer’s day with perfect temperatures after that excessive heat spell, Morpheus actually stayed around last night for more than a few hours, and if I was twenty years younger I’d be jumping and clicking my heels. Having just passed another birthday, we’ll forget that part. An ungraceful landing is a pretty sure result.
Thankfully, any age can accommodate a SMILE, and mine are floating out from my bush, heading your way!!!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
The power was restored just in time for our annual birthday party that was held Saturday afternoon until late into the evening. Once again I was surrounded by loving family and friends, including all the little ones jumping in and out of the swimming pool, crawling through the jungle gym, or coming to sit on our laps – wet bathing suits leaving their mark time and time again. My Rug rats, accompanied by a recuperating Daddy, spent the day with us, and I got in as much hugging as I could before they would escape, squealing, to rejoin the fray. DIL was not there, of course, and even if I sound like a B-tch saying it, the day was more pleasant because of her absence.
It’s a delicate situation, one that needs to be fixed. An intense dislike for a member of the family does not sit well in my mind or heart. It is extremely difficult for my son. He and his siblings are not used to their mother being the one holding back when it comes to soothing ruffled feathers, ensuring that our family knot be safe and strong. Each of them will lightly mention it during conversations here and there. Fortunately they know better than to pressure me, and I appreciate that my refusal to discuss it further is respected. However, watching my youngest, who hardly left my side during the whole party, I realized that it has gone on long enough; he’s hurting badly.
The party over, I took a long walk with my doggies, absorbing the soft night sounds of the bush. It is the usual way to do some serious thinking when solutions are required, and it didn’t fail me. I believe I have come up with a plan, one that we can all live with, to at least initiate a reconciliation of sorts. I see the doctor for my test results today at noon, but after my appointment I will contact my son and start the procedure. I’ll be throwing the ball into his lady’s court. Her reaction will determine the next step. Regardless, even if it gets worse before it gets better, I will do all that I can to discourage her creating this rift in our circle. If she continues, on her head be it.
It’s a beautiful summer’s day with perfect temperatures after that excessive heat spell, Morpheus actually stayed around last night for more than a few hours, and if I was twenty years younger I’d be jumping and clicking my heels. Having just passed another birthday, we’ll forget that part. An ungraceful landing is a pretty sure result.
Thankfully, any age can accommodate a SMILE, and mine are floating out from my bush, heading your way!!!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
A STORY
So, Helen made it driving the 900 KM from NB by herself. Unfortunately my smile wasn’t the first thing she saw coming into the house; I was at the hospital getting a scan by the time she arrived. It seemed to me she was overdue, and I was getting worried, so I hurried home when the docs were finished. I was relieved to find her curled up on her bed, soundly sleeping. I sent an ‘All’s clear’ to her daughter, who had been texting off and on all day, also anxious about her mom’s safety. They talked to each other this morning, and it was agreed that a couple of week’s vacation here will be good.
It is great to see her again. There wasn’t much chatting last night; we both were tired, but we made up for it today. I can tell that Helen did a lot of thinking during her 10 hour drive, and she’s making good decisions. I’m very proud of my friend.
This lady has lived an eventful life, from her childhood in a convent during post-war Germany to her arrival here as a teenage boat bride, without family or the language, and marrying a stranger who had portrayed himself in his advertisement and subsequent letters very different from what he actually was. It has been far from easy, and she has come out of it all, able to remember the bad without being bitter, and the good with a grin on her face. There is potential for a fascinating human interest novel, don’t you think?
She has suggested that I write her story. During this stay, she will talk, and I will take notes. Having agreed that it be done, we toasted the idea, and resolved than if any money is made from this joint venture, it would be equally divided.
“Do we have to change the names to protect the innocent?” she laughed. I remembered the reviews I once read for a movie about a young female German activist.*
“How do you feel about being called Sophie?” I asked.
She repeated it, giving it the German pronunciation, then she nodded, and we both SMILED.
*Sophie Scholl: The Final Days
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
It is great to see her again. There wasn’t much chatting last night; we both were tired, but we made up for it today. I can tell that Helen did a lot of thinking during her 10 hour drive, and she’s making good decisions. I’m very proud of my friend.
This lady has lived an eventful life, from her childhood in a convent during post-war Germany to her arrival here as a teenage boat bride, without family or the language, and marrying a stranger who had portrayed himself in his advertisement and subsequent letters very different from what he actually was. It has been far from easy, and she has come out of it all, able to remember the bad without being bitter, and the good with a grin on her face. There is potential for a fascinating human interest novel, don’t you think?
She has suggested that I write her story. During this stay, she will talk, and I will take notes. Having agreed that it be done, we toasted the idea, and resolved than if any money is made from this joint venture, it would be equally divided.
“Do we have to change the names to protect the innocent?” she laughed. I remembered the reviews I once read for a movie about a young female German activist.*
“How do you feel about being called Sophie?” I asked.
She repeated it, giving it the German pronunciation, then she nodded, and we both SMILED.
*Sophie Scholl: The Final Days
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Friday, July 12, 2013
TO BELIEVE OR NOT TO BELIEVE
I believe in Angels.
There may be some who think as I do, others who will scoff at such ‘fantasies’ , telling me there is no scientific proof, therefore Angels can’t exist. My eldest son was of the latter group until his Uncle Bird passed over. Now he’s not so sure; certain events have touched him directly for which he has no, what he would call, ‘reasonable’ explanation.
But this post is not about Angels really. It is more about the power of believing. Even scientists have little doubt about mind over matter. On too many occasions more than one of those formidable persons have watched something scientifically impossible (or what present knowledge would deem so) take place, and then scrambled to determine the why’s and how’s. Their arguments, however convincing, will often fall on deaf ears.
What one firmly believes can bring us to exalted heights, as well as literally to our knees in despair. It can cause great joy or extreme terror. More importantly, it can be shared...but never actually imposed. If you want to change what you believe, you can. If you don’t, no amount of imposing will make it happen.
Paying lip service is one thing, and probably pardonable if it will save a life, helps someone else, or results in any type of good action. I repeat, probably. But will agreeing, for whatever the cause, change your gut feeling? Not very likely. Your belief is part of your soul (another term which can cause our intellectuals to shudder in exasperation), and your soul is your own for as long as you live and breathe on this earth. The truth is, nobody, but NOBODY can force you to BELIEVE, or to not believe. There are glaring examples: Christians being thrown to the lions, and Islamic extremists becoming suicide bombers.
Personal experience has led me to believe in Angels. Nothing you can tell or show me will change my mind. I won’t try to convince you that they exist and, as well meaning or as dominating as it may be, your attempt to convince me that they don’t will fail.
I also believe in SMILES. I’m sending some to y’all right now, and it’s your choice if you want to grab them in passing, or let them float by. I’ve decided that I’ll accept all those that are sent back to me, so bring ‘em on!!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
There may be some who think as I do, others who will scoff at such ‘fantasies’ , telling me there is no scientific proof, therefore Angels can’t exist. My eldest son was of the latter group until his Uncle Bird passed over. Now he’s not so sure; certain events have touched him directly for which he has no, what he would call, ‘reasonable’ explanation.
But this post is not about Angels really. It is more about the power of believing. Even scientists have little doubt about mind over matter. On too many occasions more than one of those formidable persons have watched something scientifically impossible (or what present knowledge would deem so) take place, and then scrambled to determine the why’s and how’s. Their arguments, however convincing, will often fall on deaf ears.
What one firmly believes can bring us to exalted heights, as well as literally to our knees in despair. It can cause great joy or extreme terror. More importantly, it can be shared...but never actually imposed. If you want to change what you believe, you can. If you don’t, no amount of imposing will make it happen.
Paying lip service is one thing, and probably pardonable if it will save a life, helps someone else, or results in any type of good action. I repeat, probably. But will agreeing, for whatever the cause, change your gut feeling? Not very likely. Your belief is part of your soul (another term which can cause our intellectuals to shudder in exasperation), and your soul is your own for as long as you live and breathe on this earth. The truth is, nobody, but NOBODY can force you to BELIEVE, or to not believe. There are glaring examples: Christians being thrown to the lions, and Islamic extremists becoming suicide bombers.
Personal experience has led me to believe in Angels. Nothing you can tell or show me will change my mind. I won’t try to convince you that they exist and, as well meaning or as dominating as it may be, your attempt to convince me that they don’t will fail.
I also believe in SMILES. I’m sending some to y’all right now, and it’s your choice if you want to grab them in passing, or let them float by. I’ve decided that I’ll accept all those that are sent back to me, so bring ‘em on!!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
MY ROOMIE
My daughter’s youngest son, who will be 16 in September, found a summer job in this area. Because he starts at 6:30 AM, and because his mom is still living 40 minutes away, they asked if he could stay over here during the week. Of course he can! His mom warned me that he is hard to get up in the morning, but I threatened to let Smooch wake him if I have to rouse him more than once. I have had no problem getting him out of bed at all. Who wants to be awakened by a rambunctious 117 pound doggie?
Once again it is a happy change in my routine. Instead of eating whenever I’m in the mood, breakfast is at 5:30 AM, supper at 6:00 PM, and not just cheese and biscuits and fruit. This lad works hard physically, so needs his meat and potatoes. He’s also on a health kick, so veggies are a must too. There are lunches to be made and often taxi service in the evening. He hasn’t got his driver’s permit yet, and his friends live in town, and there is soccer practice and soccer coaching every other night.
It’s only temporary. My daughter has decided to move back to this area. Her present apartment is listed for rent; it’s a nice place and we don’t expect it will take long to be snatched up. When that happens, I’ll lose my roomie. For the moment though, it’s quite nice, if action packed. Of all my grandchildren, Raph is the one I know least. We haven’t really spent much time alone together. This arrangement is a bonus for both of us.
Ah – and did I mention he is the sports-minded grandchild? We can discuss hockey and soccer and baseball; the players, the teams, the games. The TV is constantly tuned to one of those activities when he is in the house, and he doesn’t have it blaring, contrary to most teens. He is very knowledgeable, and we are learning from each other. How kool is that?
No wonder I’m SMILING!!! Sending them out and about to y’all!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Once again it is a happy change in my routine. Instead of eating whenever I’m in the mood, breakfast is at 5:30 AM, supper at 6:00 PM, and not just cheese and biscuits and fruit. This lad works hard physically, so needs his meat and potatoes. He’s also on a health kick, so veggies are a must too. There are lunches to be made and often taxi service in the evening. He hasn’t got his driver’s permit yet, and his friends live in town, and there is soccer practice and soccer coaching every other night.
It’s only temporary. My daughter has decided to move back to this area. Her present apartment is listed for rent; it’s a nice place and we don’t expect it will take long to be snatched up. When that happens, I’ll lose my roomie. For the moment though, it’s quite nice, if action packed. Of all my grandchildren, Raph is the one I know least. We haven’t really spent much time alone together. This arrangement is a bonus for both of us.
Ah – and did I mention he is the sports-minded grandchild? We can discuss hockey and soccer and baseball; the players, the teams, the games. The TV is constantly tuned to one of those activities when he is in the house, and he doesn’t have it blaring, contrary to most teens. He is very knowledgeable, and we are learning from each other. How kool is that?
No wonder I’m SMILING!!! Sending them out and about to y’all!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
CONFUSION
“There is something happening here, what it is ain’t exactly clear” – the lyrics of the Buffalo Springfield tune are playing in my head over and over again. Umm – yes, and that’s where the ‘something’ is happening; in my head.
I’m having a devil of a time to complete my accounting work. My brain seems to just shut down and, try as I might, I need to get up and walk away for a bit before it comes alive again.
It’s the weirdest thing! I can read, write, cook, clean or do a zillion other tasks without a problem. As soon as I pick up papers with numbers or log into my accounting program, the light begins to dim. It doesn’t take long before a curtain comes down and I am mentally unable to continue. The screen (and I’m not talking about my computer here) goes totally blank. Attempting to force my attention only produces errors that I pick up on later. ARRG!
It has been going on for some time now, but is getting worse. Presently I’m lucky if I can get an hour in before the noggin zaps out. I’ve been searching for answers on the internet and in books, have done concentration tests, etc., but am still without an answer. I very rarely take medication, don’t do drugs, there is not excessive alcohol, I’ve been in menopause for ages, I eat well and take my vitamins, just going up and downstairs in my house and walking the doggies gives me plenty of physical exercise....and the list goes on. What’s more, the lack of focus only occurs when I touch accounting.
Could it be an overdose? I’ve never really enjoyed this type of work, but have always found it relatively easy to do and understand. Now it seems to have turned the tables. It doesn’t enjoy me either. I’ve been wondering if it’s not because I’m just heartily sick of it. Of course, I feel the same way about housework too, but that doesn’t stop me from keeping my house clean (enough).
Maybe I should seriously contemplate a career change? The fact is, if this craziness continues, I’ll have no choice, and in the shortest delay possible too! It’s not fair to my clients, or to my personal mental health. Any suggestion to clarify my situation is welcome - except for banging my head on the wall a few times to knock some sense into it. That I won’t do. I’m not good at repairing drywall.
I wonder if there are any paying jobs where one just has to SMILE? That I can do....and, of course, am sharing it with you.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
I’m having a devil of a time to complete my accounting work. My brain seems to just shut down and, try as I might, I need to get up and walk away for a bit before it comes alive again.
It’s the weirdest thing! I can read, write, cook, clean or do a zillion other tasks without a problem. As soon as I pick up papers with numbers or log into my accounting program, the light begins to dim. It doesn’t take long before a curtain comes down and I am mentally unable to continue. The screen (and I’m not talking about my computer here) goes totally blank. Attempting to force my attention only produces errors that I pick up on later. ARRG!
It has been going on for some time now, but is getting worse. Presently I’m lucky if I can get an hour in before the noggin zaps out. I’ve been searching for answers on the internet and in books, have done concentration tests, etc., but am still without an answer. I very rarely take medication, don’t do drugs, there is not excessive alcohol, I’ve been in menopause for ages, I eat well and take my vitamins, just going up and downstairs in my house and walking the doggies gives me plenty of physical exercise....and the list goes on. What’s more, the lack of focus only occurs when I touch accounting.
Could it be an overdose? I’ve never really enjoyed this type of work, but have always found it relatively easy to do and understand. Now it seems to have turned the tables. It doesn’t enjoy me either. I’ve been wondering if it’s not because I’m just heartily sick of it. Of course, I feel the same way about housework too, but that doesn’t stop me from keeping my house clean (enough).
Maybe I should seriously contemplate a career change? The fact is, if this craziness continues, I’ll have no choice, and in the shortest delay possible too! It’s not fair to my clients, or to my personal mental health. Any suggestion to clarify my situation is welcome - except for banging my head on the wall a few times to knock some sense into it. That I won’t do. I’m not good at repairing drywall.
I wonder if there are any paying jobs where one just has to SMILE? That I can do....and, of course, am sharing it with you.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
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