Funny you should mention...

Reading through my friend Fran's blog this morning I chuckled when she mentioned in one that she had bought yarn a year or more ago thinking she should do some knitting or crocheting. I thought the same thing about 2 weeks ago about my leftover yarns and quickly came up with a "pet" project.

At work there is a man who is our dishwasher/jack of all trades and unfortunately for us a deaf mute. At best he grunts out "off" and "half". At any rate I have been witness to his "friends" and the way they treat and abuse his generosity and quite frankly it makes me sick to my stomach that people would take advantage of another so blatantly. So, I got a fantastic little idea buzzing in my otherwise self absorbed brain. Why don't I knit (Billy) a toque for Christmas, which is now a toque, scarf and if time allows mittens too. Poor buggar rides a bike all year round (on the wrong side of the road) and must freeze himself daily. Sean mentioned that it was a great idea and if I approached the other kitchen staff maybe they would pitch in for the wool and the card. So, I did and all the staff are in agreement. I figured it will cost each of us about $3.00 to give this man comfort, warmth and happiness. He does so much for us all the time. He comes in to work when not scheduled and works like a dog for a free meal or a happy pat on the back. A very simple man but complex at the same time. I never knew charades could be so much fun and hilarious, OMG! Thanks to Billy I can now sign a lot of words and can spell almost anything. Some letters escape me from time to time, but I am slowly mastering it and Bill is quite impressed and constantly encouraging me to keep trying. I have watched some movies with deaf people and signing in it and can understand what is being signed it is pretty neat actually.

This knitting thing started out because I had found some yarn leftovers and figured I could knit something from it but what? Needless to say, the leftover yarns are still leftovers and will have new leftovers added to it but, I am happy to do this for Bill he has often made my work load easier. Maybe I will find another project for the leftovers after Christmas.

Never enough money...

Have you ever noticed there never seems to be enough money for the things you need let alone the things you want. For whatever reason if I make plans to do anything or go anywhere, I must always plan at least a year in advance because if I don't I always seem to be short on funds. It is not that I don't save, it is just that there is barely enough to pay the current bills. Just as I was about to poke my nose out from the financial ocean that constantly swirls about 2 feet over my head, I found our car in desperate need of repairs.

Between brakes, some intake valve, tires, lights, a tune up and an oil change, we are drained of any savings we had and our vacation pay is gone too. But, on the lighter side, we have a safe, secure well running car.

No, I didn't have any wild travel plans, but that money was supposed to go to a trip we had planned this October to visit family and friends in Ontario. Now, the great saving journey begins again. We are hoping to bank at least 50 dollars weekly until the end of June 2009 so as to have a good holiday in July. I have to buy a few Christmas gifts and a mother of the bride dress but the dress can wait till next spring when I have lost weight. Hopefully nothing to drastic comes into play before then.

I swear to god we could have a bank roll of $100,00.00 and it would not be enough. Any time I try to save it is as if a monster comes along and gobbles it all up in one foul swoop. Hopefully with all this past finacial worry behind us we might actually get ahead someday soon. Then, I will be able to say, yes there is enough money. But, until then I can only say, there seems to never be enough money.

Sisters et al...

Sisters, many authors have written about them, few with any amount of understanding. Sisters can be best friends or worst enemies. I have watched with wonder, movies about and with sisters, and marveled at how sisters always seem to be close and tight in movies and books, but reality never seems to co-exist with the fantasy. So, I decided to look at my own relationship with my sisters and see if there is a validity to the angst that seems to have been created by Hollywood.

I am fortunate enough to have had 3 sisters dispersed among my 9 brothers. Let me introduce you to Mari-Ann (the family matriarch at 59), Monique (I will guess her to be about 54) and to Alice (somewhere in the middle of the family at 51). All three sisters and myself had diverse and interesting talents, quirks and triggers. I guess to examine them I must put myself up against them to see wherein the differences have affected me and choices I made.

Mari-Ann. Although she married and moved out of the house to begin her new life when I was only 6 years old, I remember my oldest sister to be one of the most gentle women in my life. She always made time for me when I was a little girl. Before she had children of her own, Mari-Ann spoiled me. She took me to movies like, "Bambi", "Sleeping Beauty" and "Cinderella". She would take me on outings of shopping and afternoon tea whith friends, I was always so delighted when she would say "let's go ..." and I knew we would have the time of our lives because Mari-Ann said it was so. I loved it when she would take me to visit friends, I was always treated special, probably because they wanted to talk, I was given hot chocolate and cookies or juice and cookies and then she and her friends would begin talking about whatever. It mattered not to me what they talked about because I had cookies, juice and Mari-Ann, my world was perfect. Well, time and tide wait for no one and changes everything and every one. And so it was with me and Mari-Ann and our relationship. Oh, she was and is still near and dear to my heart, but we both have families of our own and can't do the milk and cookies any more. I would love to go for a coffee with her now though. I have so much to ask her. When I was pregnant with my twins I remember her saying (close to the end of my pregnancy) "that looks painful". I saw the sympathy in her eyes and heard the compassion in her voice. I did not know at the time, but I was carrying over 20 pounds of babies, water and all the rest. No wonder I was ginormous, no wonder I had her pity. No wonder I felt like bawling like a baby. I never felt as close to her as I did in the days leading up to the birth of my boys and shortly after. I visited with her often as we lived close to each other and I took comfort in the words and advice she offered. Unfortunately, events along the way has driven an invisible but discernable wedge between us. I want to be able to sit and talk with her again, but somehow it would seem that is not to happen, not now anyway. I must be happy with the memories I have and hope there will be more along the way.

Monique. I don't know how to begin with Monique. I don't understand or know this my middle sister well at all. I would have to say that it is probably a horrible truth to admit that you do not know one of your siblings but truly I do not. I remember bits and pieces, some, I won't go into detail, not flattering to her or myself. There were a few years where she and I had a bit of a relationship but nothing close to what Mari-Ann and I had. I have pictures of her in photo albums that often have me wondering why she seemed so far removed from the rest of the family. I know when I was younger I watched her apartment when she went away to Europe. The first time I did this she was absolutely delighted with the job I did, the second time she was less than disappointed and I have to admit she was justified in that disappointment, I did a lousy job of it. Moniuqe had been the victim of a terrible accident some years ago now. At the time of this accident I was deeply involved in the "Born Again" faith. I was so upset about the physical health of my sister. Indeed she was in terrible shape, and from the reports I was getting from home, she was hanging on to life by a thread for several days. I prayed and wept, and even got the church family to pray for her too. Then, one day I felt an overwhelming need to let her know that I felt God was going to heal her. I wrote her a letter telling her this and both she and her husband became enraged with this. Now, I know my approach may not have been right, but my heart was in the right place. Years after (probably 5 or more) she comes to me and says "Ed (her husband) doesn't ever want to talk to you again because of that letter (not that I cared what he had to say) and I am infuriated by what you said in that letter". I apologized for having upset her, but refused to recant my original message about God healing her. Because of that and since then I have had almost no communication with her or her husband. In fact, when I was pregnant with my twins, she spoke to me at Christmas wished me luck and that was the last time I spoke to her. Her husband has since made several rude and snide comments about me to any member of the family who will listen. I can only hope that they throw it out and chalk it up to Ed being the narcissist he is. As for my sister Monique, I would love to contact her again and remain in contact with her for no other reason than she is family and I want to know her as a sister. I am afraid any effort on my part will be thwarted, but try I will.

Finally, Alice. My best friend in the whole world bar none. Alice and I have come close to flailing fists on occassion but have always found the grace to forgive each other and admit when we were wrong. Many, many times we talked about boyfriends, kids, and life in general. I could and still can go to Alice with any problem or conundrum I face and she always listens and often offers advice, some I take and some I put on the shelf to examine a little more closely. When in my late teens, Alice and I often went for long walks down by the Mackenzie King National Historic Park in Kitchener www.pc.gc.ca/lhn-nhs/on/woodside/index_e.asp (Woodside National Park). There was a train track that ran through the property on the way into "Burns" meat processing facilitly that we often walked down. Sometimes on these walks (we were of a different generation) we would smoke the odd marijuana cigarette to relax. I remember one night in particular, I had just gotten home from night school ( I was trying to complete my grade 12 the hard way) and had a little joint my friend Eric had given me for helping him with an essay. Alice had just gotten back from Europe and wanted to go for a walk and tell me all about Europe. Unfortunately on this particular night it was pouring rain, cold and miserable. Neither of us was up to our jaunt on the railway tracks so we settled for Dad's garage, what a mistake. We enjoyed our marijuana to the fullest but came crashing down when we went inside and Dad asked where we had been. We stupidly told him we had been out for a walk, we weren't wet and had taken no umbrella or raincoats...explain please girls? Dad asked us. Needless to say we couldn't. The very next morning I got an invitation to leave the house and Alice (from what I was told was given the same). We both sweat bullets but other than that Dad was the same as always. We have had our moments where we have gone our separate ways, but for me, Alice is always just a phone call away and more importantly I feel when I talk to her, I fit. Alice is my one true connection to my family. If not for her, I would not feel a part of the family. Because of her, I constantly try to become one of the larger group, I fail constantly but never give up hope of a future with my siblings. Alice and I have a great relationship as sisters first and friends second.

I cannot possibly undo the things I have done to hurt or harm the relationships with my sisters. I can, and have, apologized for hurt feelings along the way. I sincerely hope that one day both Mari-Ann and Monique can truly forgive me for having hurt them. In the mean time, I will continue to hope for forgiveness from them and a continued relationship in the future with all of my sisters.

on Winter and Christmas....

As a child growing up I couldn't wait for the leaves to turn and a chill settle in the air. I knew by these signs winter was on the way. Winter always held a magical almost ethereal mysticism about it. I loved returning to school. The smells of chalk dust and pencil shavings were, in some warpped way, a comfort for me. It meant all was good and my comfort zone (at least for that day) was as it should be.

I remember watching the street lights nightly once hallowe'en was over. I watched, waited and prayed for snow. When winter came and snow was on the ground I felt closest to my family. Better than all of that though was the thought of Christmas. To this day I love Christmas. I don't know too many people who don't. As a kid I couldn't wait to open gifts Christmas morning. Passing the gifts to my siblings and parents that I had bought/made them was my least favourite part of Christmas morning. I was never quite sure if my gifts were going to be well received or chucked in the corner. I would have been devestated if anyone had made comment on a lousy gift, but that never happened, see what I mean Christmas magic. There was one Christmas that brought cold hard reality crashing down around me. My mother had obviously been shopping with my best friends' mother. Everything I got that year was exactly what my friend Diane had gotten. I couldn't believe my ears when I was showing her all the wonderful gifts and she kept saying, "I got that too", it was depressing at best. The only thing I got that she didn't was a sweater. She got a lot more than I did but I didn't care about that, she was pretty much an only child, but how could my mother have done that. I was 14 and my first year in high school, groan. Once my birthday had come and gone (a couple of weeks later) I had fogotten all the nonsense of the gifts and forgiven my mother. Silly now when I look back on it, but at the time I thought "man mom, couldn't you think of something for yourself, does everything I have have to be just like Diane?". Yikes! We were friends not sisters.

So, with Christmas behind us we settled into the long Canadian winter that stretched yet another 2 or 3 months before us. I was never bored in winter. It was (stress on the past tense) my favourite time. I would go tobogganning with one of my many brothers or skating at the local rink. Playing street hockey was always a highlight of the winter. The local boys never minded me playing (and if they did they were gracious enough not to say so) they even coached me on some stick handling, so I was pretty much one of the guys. I was the only teenage girl on the street so it was always up to me to create my own fun. Unlike other neighbourhoods I visited ours was mostly guys and old people. In my teenage mind 40+ was bloody well ancient. Now? Well, now 60+ even isn't so old. I don't know, it just seemed to be a simpler time. I don't remember any stress, although I am sure there was always stress for my parents. If the stress was there it never or seldom ever showed. We didn't always have fantastic meals, but hot, hearty and bountiful was the mandate in our house. Lots of potatoes, lots of hamburg meat and (being Roman Catholic) fish every blessed Friday. That is probably the only thing I don't miss about childhood winters at home. To this day, I am not a big fish feind. If I eat fish now you have to check if a snowball has found it's way into hell. Not that I don't like fish, I just don't go out of my way to eat it. I love salmon, shrimp and all shell fish, just not wild about boston blue fish, haddock, and any other cheap fish around.

I have come to the understanding, as an adult, to be happy and grateful with the memories I have of my childhood, there are those around who have much less. Christmases now are filled with friends and family and phone calls zinging around Canada to sisters, daughters, brothers and sons. Hopefully my aging mother will be here for one more Christmas, but if not, then she has blessed me with a plethora of memories with her at the helm of Christmas to draw on for the rest of my life. Thanks mom.

Children and Grand Children....

Ahhh kids, our future, our inheritance. I have had the pleasure and joy of giving birth to 4 wonderful kids. No one will ever be able to tell me again that a mother has no favourites. That first baby opens up a whole new world of possibilities, problems, joys, adventures, the list is endless, with that very first cry and because of this instantly becomes (or in my case became) my favourite.

My first child will always have a special, secret place in my heart. My oldest, now 25 years old, was my first joy. What delight there was to see his chubby face and rosebud mouth. How frightening he was too. How was I going to make it as a mother? Time and on the job training took care of that fear. When a new mother you have no time to fear, you have to get to work taking care of the new life entrusted to you. I loved waking in the morning to his happy little face. He was so quiet as a baby, but no child stays a baby and he brought me other joys and hurdles as he and I grew together.

My second, my daughter now 24, was a determined little soul from the get go. I knew when she was born that she would always be a fighter and a survivor. She brought me a joy so deep it has to this day to be equalled. The joy my daughter brought me was more subtle than that of my son. Her gift of joy was one more nurtured than inherited. We had to learn to explore our roles in the house and the world. While a baby, I learned I had to take the back seat to her when it came to her dad. She was the apple of her daddy's eye and my nemesis. I loved her so much but hated the relationship between her and her dad. Lucky for me she had a heart as big as the universe and was always reassuring me that she loved me as much as her dad. Amazing what our kids can teach us.

 

Megan and Sean

                                        
Twins, yep. My third and fourth babies were identical twin boys. What an absolute delight it was for me to find out that I was to have twins. All my life I wanted twins and now I was to be the lucky mom to have them. By the end of the first year with them however I was exhausted and feeling a little less lucky and a lot more burdened. If I hadn't loved them as much as I did I would not have been able to laugh at myself as much as I did. In order to raise twins you have to have a good sense of humour and be a little insane at the same time. I have always said the first six months were a whirlwind but after that it got a lot easier. For reasons I won't discuss here I have not seen my twins in some time, no fault of mine, but I know in my heart that one day we will again be together and when we are there will be an instant bond.

 

Eric

                                                                           

 

James

                                                

The things I learned as a mom enabled me to be better prepared to help my kids when they come to me for advice. I may not always have the answer they want to hear but I have an answer based on my experiences with them. I have three gorgeous grandchildren whom I desperately wish all the happiness and joy to. I know that my grandchildren Benjamin and Nicole will do well because they have a mom who is strong and will fight for them.  My son's boy, Seth, too will be okay because he has a daddy who will go to the ends of the earth to make sure his little man has what he needs.

Ben

 

Benjamin

 

                                                         

 

Nicole
 

Seth

                                       

Truly I am blessed.  I have great children, wonderful grandchildren and a man whom I love and know he loves me.  We are a happy family.

 

Me at work

 

Sean at work

                                     

A Tiny Insignificant speck...

This morning as I was sipping my first coffee of the day, my partner (Sean) made a comment about the Mars explorer that got me thinking. This earth we live on is a pretty neat place to be. We have all the natural beauty our eyes can ever want to feast on. We have, in some ways, made this a safer place to live and breathe. We can grow and harvest just about anything our little hearts desire, we have even created our own plants and vegetables (hybrids) for our pleasure. We truly are "one of a kind" and we are so proud of our uniqueness. How wonderful are we! But...wait now, are we unique?, are we so wonderful? The mention of the Mars explorer reminded me of 2003 when NASA sent voyager (I think that's the name) on it's trek to deep outer space. I watched in awe and wonder as the apparatus sailed past Mars and the officials on earth directed the gizmo to take a shot of earth as it ventured further into space. As I looked on I noticed several things happening at once. First I noticed how blue our earth is in comparison to all other planets. Next I noticed how small we were in relation to other planets. Finally, and most profoundly, how in the vastness of our universe, I observed with amazement how tiny and insignificant a speck our earth truly is. Talk about humbling! If our earth in all it's beauty and grandeur, with all it's flaws and flounces is so smalll and insignificant, in the big scheme of things how tiny and insignificant are we humans as a species? Further to this, how tiny and insignificant are our accomplishments and our quarrels? Just a little food for thought, sure makes you wonder and appreciate what we have doesn't it?!

Remembrance Day...

In Canada today is known as Remembrance Day. We pause to remember those who died to fight for the freedom of our country and other countries around the world. I have memories of going to the cenotaph in Kitchener Ontario with my mom , dad and siblings in tow. We always went as a family. At first I did not understand the meaning behind the sad faces and black arm bands. Now, years and several small wars later I remember all to well the somberness of the day. We were taught to reflect on the sacrifices those who died for us made as well as the absolute horror that war weighs on a country. It is pouring rain here which seems to fit the mood of the day. As a matter of fact, it seems to me one of the memories of childhood on this day is the sea of countless black umbrellas. Are there as many now? Do we need to awaken our youth to the need to remember as our parents taught us. For whatever reason, historically, this day seems to conjure up images of broken bodies, burned out buildings and scarred landscapes. Feelings of emptiness, horror and sorrow swirl around the atmosphere like a cloud of impending doom. Do we need to alert the rest of the world to this? There are countries in this world where to die for the country is a "get into heaven" free card. Because of this, I am convinced there will never be an end to war. We will always have war and skirmishes, so how do we comfort those who fight or live through these? We may never be able to comfort or know how or what those people feel. And that is why today, we REMEMBER THEM.

A Chat with Mom...

Today I was pleasantly surprised with a phone call from my mother. I never know what to say to her anymore. She doesn't seem to remember to much of anything anymore. I guess that is the dementia. Anyway, it was good to hear her so happy and full of jokes and laughter. I can't remember the last time I heard her so happy. Apparently she has had a lot of company over the weekend and is feeling the stress of it all. I would truly love to see her again but for now have to content myself with the phone calls and pictures I have on my computer of her. Everyone at home says she has become frail and tiny. I just can't picture my mother as "frail" or tiny but, who am I to question what others see daily? Anyway, Mom seemed to be happy that I was happy. I told her that I am now a grandmother and she seemed a little confused at that. She asked how this was possible? I told her that Meg had had two babies and Sean had one. This being said, she seemed content to listen. I was (and this is very unusual for me) stumped as to what to say. This could very well be one of the last times I chat with Mom and all I could do was blab about absolutely nothing. For now, I will content myself though with the fond memories I have of her. Our countless shopping trips, donut stops and icecream cones will have to be my comfort in memory. I know my mother is dieing and she too knows this. She constantly asks why God won't give her her big green blanket (the grass) and let her lie in her brown bed (the earth) with her husband. Indeed, I have never known anyone who so desperately wants to die. I hope I can be comfortable with that when it actually does happen. That day, although not here yet, is not far away I am sure. Until then, I will make the most of the time she has left with us on this blue ball we call earth. I love my mom and want the most for her even now, if she wants to be with dad, then she should be with him no matter how it upsets me. Since he died 10 years ago, she has wanted to be with him. Sad when you think about it.

Arriving in Newfoundland...

Being from Ontario, I was in for a rude awakening as to the culture and the people that were about to greet me. As I stepped off the "Caribou" (the name of the ferry that brought me from mainland Canada to Newfoundland) I could not believe the smells and sights that greeted me. It was late August of 2001 and I was in a new land, with a new partner and a new business to start. What lay before me only time would tell. The smell was that of salt water and fish. All around me was coastline and rock, lots and lots of rock. So, this is Newfoundland I said to no one in particular. I wasn't quite sure of what to make of this strange new place. A place that would become home for me. Having spent some time in Alberta (western Canada) I was not overly impressed with Newfoundland's mountains' size but more the remoteness and coldness of them. Their sheer rock face looked unyielding and unforgiving, which was not far from reality as time would tell. As the car buzzed down the highway heading into central Newfoundland, I noticed the cliff faces thrusting high and bold out of the shoulders of the highway, what daunting work must have been faced building this highway. I was amazed at the speed at which most cars zipped past ours as we drove on into the night. I was surprised looking over at the speedometer to see my partner doing the speed limit plus 10 and people passing us as if we stood still. My partner, content to maintain speed, commented on the boldness of the drivers passing where it wasn't safe to do so and driving at speeds only seen on the "Autobaun" until now. To this day (7 years later) I still drive as an Ontario granny and am happy to be safe at the speed limit and passing where it is safe to do so. The one thing that always stuck in my mind growing up in Ontario, was the reports of moose sightings and how many people here in Newfoundland(NL) have hit a moose or been killed by moose. Yet, here we were travelling a very dark highway on a very dark night at the time of year that is rife with moose on the highways, and people driving as if it were a bright sunny day. I have since come to learn, although there are a great many moose here in NL, life still goes on and people will do what they have to do to get on with life and living.