The Year That Was...

"Christmas is a time of joy and charity.  May God make you VERY rich in both."  Phillips Brooks.  I do hope God made YOU rich in both this Christmas.

This will be my L=A=S=T blog of 2017. The last one of  S+E+V+E+N+T+Y  blogs I wrote this year.  I can't believe it!  I want to thank YOU, all my faithful readers, for reading my blogs.   I started blogging, in the first year of my separation.  I remember hitting 10,000 pages read, then the milestone of 20,000 pages read, which I reached when I was in Costa Rica.  My blog about Marr's Sweet Syrup lip gloss, which I posted on their website, garnered over 800 views alone.  That tells me OODLES of people love their products, and NOT JUST ME!

I am now well over 30,000 page views. So, I GUESS as long as someone is reading, I will keep writing.  There is no point in writing if no one reads what you wrote.  I have always loved writing.   I would rather write than talk.  My students don't believe me when I tell them that.:)

It is interesting to note which blogs generate the most reads, and which, the least.  Blogs about children and the elderly, are less read, than blogs about my misadventures.  :) I  wonder why that is? Perhaps because we enjoy other people's foibles and misfortunes, especially when they are usually ridiculously stupid and funny, which MINE often are?  Or is it also because we feel a connection; we can identify with what the writer is experiencing?

My second last blog of the year, was about holiday stress.  I CAN NOT believe that not a soul took me to task for saying MEN don't do anything to get ready for Christmas.  Well, just one man did, informing me very nicely that he has cooked more than one turkey. :)

I have mellowed a lot since that blog.  Christmas is over. :)   Life isn't always a rosy ride.  Sometimes we get into a funk, or we get down, or we are grouchy, or we just have to "WALLOW IN THE MURK", as one thoughtful friend told me.   I think it is QUITE alright to express those feelings now and then.  When I do blog about something I have done, it isn't in the least because I want to be praised.  My mother raised us saying, "Sois muet quand tu as donné, et parle quand tu as reçu." "Be silent when you are the giver, and speak up when you are the recipient."   I have always tried to live by that maxim.   The reason my point is made, one hundred percent of the time, is to MAKE others aware of what is going on - whether the issue be homelessness, poverty, child neglect, or apathy.

On that somewhat somber, final note, I want to wish you, all my readers,  a joyous New Year full of ALL the BEST things in life, which ALL happen to be free;  good health, love, family, friendship, laughter, smiles, hugs, kisses and good memories.

BONNE ET HEUREUSE ANNÉE!

Holiday STRESS?

I know that MY stress is NOT hi-duty stress, i.e. homelessness, poverty, unemployment, serious illness, death, to name but a few. However, SOME DAYS it is all relative, you know.  It is human nature to feel stress. Apparently, our body even needs stress now and then.

Well, I had mine in spades on Thursday.  I had a day off work to do all the myriad errands, shopping, cooking, baking, gift wrapping, organizing, cleaning, and decorating that we WOMEN do at Christmas.  Notice I said WOMEN?  Because WE are the ones doing all the work. I have always said, "It isn't only the turkey that gets STUFFED every Christmas!" Pardon the vulgar, yet still apropos expression that follows. We women get stuffed too!   I envy men.  They shop a little Christmas Eve, and maybe put up some lights outside?  WHOOP-DE-DOO...

My to-do list that day was as long as my arm, starting off with meeting someone in a parking lot, and transferring some cat food to her, so she can deliver it to a friend of mine who lives an hour away.  I decided to do other errands since I was out, doing what I call my "guerrilla attacks" all over town; gassing up, mailing a Christmas parcel, picking up a library book, dropping off some homemade fudge to my car servicing people, my dog walkers, and my librarian, ending up at the ATM and then lining up in a long line at the bank to deposit a cheque in US funds. I can't even remember all the running around I did in an hour and a half.   DRING!  I get a call  from Costa Rica.  Had I know it was from there, I would not have answered.  My S*T*R*E*S*S level went up 100 percent right then and there!!! Sometimes your stress is palpable, I swear.

I didn't want to deal with this call in the bank, but I had no choice. I finally got rid of the caller, by promising to email him as soon as I got home.  Never mind that he wanted information I had already sent him two months ago, information he now COULD NOT find. Now, I am SUPER stressed. 

Once home I dash off that email, anxiously awaiting an answer.  I am also waiting to hear how a family member is doing after minor surgery, getting updates on how my dog niece Bella is doing after her surgery, and trying to do some cooking, as I have company coming that evening, for drinks and munchies.  My fire alarm keeps going off because I haven't cleaned my oven in the year and half I have lived in this house. DRING!!  A friend wants to give me an update on a former colleague of hers. I can barely hear her over the blaring of the fire alarm, never mind my cooking burning on the stove.  I DON'T have time for that.  I say so honestly, hang up and then feel the guilt.

While I had wanted to accomplish some things, this is NOT how I had envisaged my entire day... a stress meter.  I  had wanted to have time to sip a cup of tea and read my book , OR go on a hike or long walk with Vimy, OR meet up with a  friend I haven't seen in over a month, OR take my elderly mother to visit her sister-in-law, OR visit a few shut-ins with some homemade fudge. None of that happened.

By now it is 3:00. I have a dentist appointment in less than an hour.  I take a quick little cat nap, wake up late, and dash off to my dentist, a fifteen minute drive away.  More errands along the way, but I am a little more relaxed, having received three emails from Costa Rica, where all has been taken care of. Bella and Hermanita are well, as well. I have accomplished most of my to-do list.   I listen to a wonderful holiday CD en route, and am positively C+H+I+L+L by the time I get to the dental clinic.

HOWEVER, as soon as I walk up to the receptionist, I KNOW! I KNOW I have screwed up, M=A=J=O=R. The reason for my visit? To get my new dental appliance adjusted.  Where IS said appliance???  Not in my mouth, where it is SUPPOSED TO BE!!!  IT is at home, in a cup, where I had put it, while I brushed my teeth. ARRGH!!!!  The receptionist smiles, then laughs when I give her my last delivery of the day, a small bag of homemade fudge for my dentist.  It had been intended as a small gift, but it has now become a peace offering?  I realize that fudge is NOT the best thing to give a dentist,  but heck, it's Christmas.

I have another appointment next week.  I do hope I don't get dinged for this one, because I didn't cancel within twenty four hours. :)

YES, I know I am blessed. In spades!

TGIF???

A full week of supply teaching, got me home pretty tired at 4:00 last Friday. I had taken Vimy for a long walk, before looking forward to a drink, munchies, and a snuggle with my pooch in my lazy boy.  His cousin Bella, who was staying overnight, had been dropped off, while we were out walking and was there to greet us when we opened the door.  Bella is a beautiful eight year old Border Collie whom Vimy adores.  I wanted to clean Vimy's paws first, though, before letting him loose to play with Bella, so I put out a dish of warm water to clean him off.  Bella of course, made a dash for Vimy and in her haste to nuzzle him, tipped over the bowl. She is now wet, Vimy is wetter, the entrance carpet is wet, and the landing, where I thought I could rest my butt while cleaning up the spill, was WET as well, so consequently, my backside got soaked.  Great start to my TGIF party!

I had come home feeling that I really needed to give my brain, and heart, a rest from the trials and tribulations of a difficult week. That week was spent in schools where you have children, who are always hungry, ask for food, and when you tell them to ask their parents to put more snacks in their lunchbox, reply that their parents won't give them more.  Schools where another child is obsessed with death and is constantly expressing dark thoughts about such or upsetting others by telling them they are going to die.  Schools where another little one who is in foster care loves to play Lego, but informs me he doesn't have any to play with in his foster home.  I could go on and on, so great are even the most basic needs of many children. What can I do?

Well, I can buy one child crackers and cheese.  I can ask my mother to buy the little Lego lover a nice, big box of those blocks.  I can advise the guidance counselor that one student needs extra attention.  I can half fix a child's snowsuit, by putting in a large paper clip in the zipper, where the pull up tab has broken off, so he/she can zip up the coat and not be cold.  Sometimes you just have to focus on the little things you can do to make a difference in a child's life, and NOT the BIG things that you know you don't have a chance in hell of ever fixing.

Christmas is coming.  All children need to feel the magic of Christmas. Please make that magic happen if you can, where you can, when you can, however you can, with whomever you can. Make one child's eyes light up.  God bless everyone!

 JOYEUX NOËL

We need to see Christmas...

through the eyes of a child, marvel in all its goodness, appreciate the reason for the season, and believe in all the miracles that happen at this magical time of year, no matter how tiny.

I do! Or I try to!!  I came home from work one afternoon recently, to see a lady across the street, the same one of the little voice in my blog,  "Come this way Madame" out on her lawn. She called out to me, "Are you Joanne?"  I replied I was, and immediately thought, "OMG, Vimy has gone and made another deposit on her lawn, without my being aware!"

As she came toward me I noticed she had an envelope in hand. Turns out she had gone to retrieve her mail late the precious night, and noticed this envelope on the ground. I guess the mail carrier wasn't aware it had fallen from the mailbag, or the box, because our mail is delivered very late in the evening when it is already VERY DARK.   It was my LAST lens wiper cloth from my Camino walking partner, Nancy, posted from the U.S., along with a lovely, long handwritten card.  I  was so H-A-P-P-Y to receive both.

If  this neighbour, who doesn't know me, hadn't gone to all the trouble of finding out the addressee of the letter, I would never have received this LAST gift.   She thought the 4 in the address was a 9.  There is no such address on our street with that number. I gave my new neighbour, who now has a name, a big hug and insisted that she take another one of my wipes, seeing as Nancy has sent me a DOZEN, over the last twelve months.  Good things are meant to be SHARED.  Furthermore, it matched her sweater perfectly!  I also got to relish reading a long, handwritten note, a rare commodity in this age of instant communication.  ALL this could so easily have ended up trampled on, muddied and trashed.  To some this may not seem like such a big deal, but TO ME, it was a small Christmas miracle.

Have you had your own tiny Christmas miracle? 

Do we really listen to....

elderly people?  They, who have such life experiences, wisdom and humour to share, are often just tolerated or ignored.  It's as if, once we grow older, we don't matter anymore.  Yet, elderly people can enrich our lives, with their humour, their stories, their resilience, their perspective, and their attitude.  Can they sometimes monopolize a conversation?  Yes, but then again, they have earned that right, in my opinion.

Let me tell you about Gertie and Gus.  Those aren't their real names, but they are truer and bigger than life.  They are an absolutely I-N-C-R-E-D-I-B-L-E couple.  I was their babysitter way back, in my early teens, when they had five children. They consequently adopted a sixth child.  Their life has been hard. They have had to endure MORE than their share of pain and sorrow. Death has stalked their family - two children have died, one at four years of age (my first real exposure to death) and one when he was in his forties, from AIDS.  Two other adult children now have cancer.  The eldest has mental health issues that have crushed her spirit and left her, in her late fifties, living with her parents for the last seventeen years.   Through all that life has thrown at them, they somehow managed to be musically involved in the community for decades, while volunteering, raising a family, and working.  I could go on and on, about their trials and tribulations, but what I also want to share is their ETERNAL optimism and positive attitude.

I drop in for a visit now and then, to chat and to listen.  I enjoy listening.  I talk when I blog. :)  I have had them over for dinner, or lunch after church and had countless cups of tea and sweets at their place.  When we part, I am usually shaking my head in bewilderment and wonder, while laughing to myself with a huge smile on my face.

The following are NOT cute quotes from children, but rather nuggets from the OTHER end of life's spectrum.

"There is the Rock of Gilbraltar, and then there's Gertie!"   I am quoting Gertie.

After Gertie called out his name, Gus replied, "Am I being spoken to?"

Gertie's words of advise for a long marriage?  "Don't fight. But if you DO fight, more importantly,  DON'T lose!"

"When I met Gus, he told me he was Lebanese. I was from Cap Pelé.  I didn't know what CELERY was.

Me- "What's Gus' cell number?   Gertie- "Block 4, cell 17."

Gertie, fiddling with her hearing aid, yells "Come in Moscow!' Gus tells her, "Turn that thing to another station!"

She, to him: "I'll put you back in your cage with Tweetie Bird, if you don't behave!"

Me- "How are you Gus?  Gus - "I'm good, or so she tells me.", as he flicks his finger in her direction.

When talking about a scandal in the local parish, Gertie refers to another priest up shore, as "That fat boy up there!"  I had to guffaw at that one!

Gertie: "At my age, I can't stop going to church. I don't know WHAT'S on the other side, so I can't take ANY chances!"

Their secret to longevity?  LOVE, LAUGHTER AND LIVING!  I adore them. They enrich my life beyond measure.   Gertie is eighty-four and Gus is eighty-five.

This photo is NOT of Gus and Gertie, but symbolises, to me,  their indomitable spirit. 

So much for a quiet Saturday evening at home...

My phone seldom rings. It DOES ping, ding and chime. Seldom at the same time, but recently, I had all the DINGS! PINGS! and RINGS! at the same time, after I had run around all day, and was finally home to Vimy and my dinner preparation.

PING! A hiking buddy and I are trying to set up a hike tomorrow, depending on the weather. PING! Another friend is trying to connect me with a retired dentist buddy of his in B.C., (I know! Far away and far fetched!) but he is having problems getting us connected.  PING! My sweet sis-in-law wants to know if I have checked our Lotto tickets, and how am I doing? Bless her heart; she is always checking in to see how I am.  DING! Another friend far away wants to set up a chat time tonight. More PINGS! and DINGS! back and forth.

Then comes the clincher.  While my pasta dish was baking, I had called Mamacita.  She is NOT often home on a Saturday evening. She is usually out dancing or playing cards. No staying at home for this 83, soon-to-be 84 year old. We have a lovely chat.  She is concerned about her sister who is having trouble selling her home; ipso facto her financial worries are now my mother's worries.  I guess when you have six YOUNGER brothers, and seven YOUNGER sisters, it is HARD to let go of being the caring, older sibling.

I had no sooner started to enjoy my delicious supper, when DRING! Mamacita calls me back. Do I have my St. Joseph statue, the one you bury in your garden, with a prayer, when you want to sell your house? No, I don't. Ok! She is going to find one, buy it for her sister, do the novena, and that will surely help to sell her house, right? I agree.  She hangs up and I realize that I have had a load of wash in the machine since 9:00 am this morning. Time to shove it in the dryer.

That is what I am doing, when DRING!  Mamancita has tracked down a (GET THIS!) "St.Joseph" kit, that you can buy for $10.00, complete with instructions, which will help you sell your house. Trust the Catholic Church, as capitalistic as the rest of us, to get in on this "gimmick", in a big way.  They know how to make a buck, and they need bucks, don't they?  Sorry, I digress! Could I please go pick it up for her?  WHAT? Now? It is 7:30 on a Saturday night. Last time I checked, WALMART wasn't selling this kind of stuff! No, she has tracked the kit down to the "Centre de Ressourcement" at CCNB, a hop, skip and a jump from my place.  A couple who lives in the building, runs the store.  They are open until 9:00 PM. I didn't want to say, NO, and have her tell me to "SUCK IT UP BUTTERCUP!",which is what I told my daughter many years ago, when she none to willingly agreed to drive to Saint John from Fredericton,  to pick her father and I up at 2:00 am in the morning, because we were stuck IN MONTREAL (THE STORY OF MY LIFE!) . So, dutiful and loving daughter that I am, I say, SURE, Maman, I will go get that kit right now. 

Vimy and I jump in the car. Since I don't see well at night, I can't even see the numbers on the buildings, so I end up driving around looking for #775.  Thank God for cell phones.  DRING! I call Mamacita, and keep her on the phone, while she directs me to the correct building. The woman has the memory of an elephant.  She advises me to go to the front door. Never mind that it is dark and the outside light isn't on. They are saving money, she informs me. Yeah?  They are spending it on lawyers.  She assures me that the lady she has spoken to, IS there! I hang up. I go up those dark stairs, and ring the doorbell (buzzer) TWICE. There is NO answer.  DRING!  I call Mamacita again.  Maybe I need to be at the SIDE door, where there is illumination? NO! She is adamant that I am at the right place. She will CALL them again.  I hang up.  AGAIN!

Lo and behold, a woman comes up the hallway. She opens the door and I buy the kit, informing her that her phone is going to ring. DRING! It does, and down the hall strolls the husband, chatting with my Mamacita on the phone. I take the proffered phone and let her know that I have St.Joseph in hand.

Dishes and laundry interrupted... now done. It is too late to do anything but get ready for bed. While my outing was maybe NOT my mission, I can still say MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! :)  Who wanted to watch a movie anyway?

What is a perfect day?

I  imagine everyone would have a different definition of a perfect day.  Mine is one that is singular in its simplicity.

My perfect day started with my hitting EVERY single green light on Vanier Blvd early one morning, on my way to work, with the added benefit of seeing a gorgeous sunrise over the Bathurst Harbour at the same time.  Mind you, had I had MORE red lights, I would have seen even MORE of the sunrise, but I am totally happy with what I did witness.

My perfect day continued as I taught thirteen darling little six and seven year olds, one of whom informed me that the reason their corner made noise during the Four Corners game, were picked and thus eliminated, was NOT because they were noisy, but because HE ...FARTED!  Ah....noise is noise. LOL

Even my doctor telling me I had to lose ten pounds, still didn't dim what continued to be a perfect day, as I picked up Vimy at day care, enjoyed a delicious moose stew for supper with a glass of wine, capping off my day with a three kilometre walk, on a crispy, cool, starry November night.

I marveled at the beautiful lights downtown reflecting off the waters of the harbour, the twinkling stars above me, and the sparkling dew (frost?) on the grass.  My walks are often my best time for reflection.  I realized how fortunate I am to be able to walk the streets of my neighbourhood at 8:00 at night, in darkness, and feel SAFE. At no time did I feel anything but secure.  That feeling lead me to rethink a recent conversation I had had with a lady whom I will call Lily.  Lily is a Brazilian surgeon, born of Japanese parents. She immigrated to the Chaleur area nine years ago.  She told me very candidly, during our Spanish Club meeting, that she has NOT regretted her decision to move here.  Why did she come to Canada?   She immigrated to escape the violence of Brazil, violence in the cities.   She loves this area where she finds people friendly and welcoming.  She is now a surgical assistant  and no longer a practicing surgeon, because of language requirements.  Never mind that she speaks English, Portuguese, Spanish and a bit of French. She gave up everything to come to Canada alone, where she knew no one, in order to make a new life for her herself; to be happy where she feels safe and secure.  SAFETY AND SECURITY!  Imagine!  Those are things we take for granted. How fortunate we are as a country, that we have wonderful people like Lily, who want to make Canada their home. "How perfect", I thought, as Vimy and I wended our way home safely.