God Always Gets Ya

Had to make a run to the chiropractor this morning for Scott's back.

I always tell him, when he has pain of any sort, that God is getting him for something or other he's done wrong. It's BS of course, but I say it anyway.

All the poor lad did this time was push a lawnmower whose handle was about a foot shorter than it should have been for someone his height. He's paying, bigtime. Suffering considerably. Wailing, gnashing his teeth, whining. You know what men are like when they don't feel well.

I'm joking (well, sorta). I feel sorry for him. Back pain is something that keeps you from getting comfortable, even to sleep. My personal experiences of it have been rare and long ago, but I remember them well. It wasn't pretty.

In the van, I listened to a talking book (The Lie) in front of the building for an hour-and-a-half before walking to a yard three blocks away where a gentleman, presumably retired, builds and sells willow lawn furniture, flower planters, birdhouses, etc. Will have to have a second look next week, when I drive Scott for another appointment if he still needs it.

We stopped in Margo for lunch on the way home, as there'd been a voice message that brother Buttski would be travelling through from Edmonton. But we missed him; he'd been and gone, apparently with Bruce and Shirley. (That's my uncle and aunt, for those of you who aren't from home. I nicknamed my brother Cameroni Bumboni and taught my kids to call him Uncle Bum. Which he claims to hate, particularly in crowded restaurants where single women might be within earshot.)

And now, since my morning and half the afternoon's been spent roaring down the highway, I had best go earn some moolah.

Shelly's World

Shelly's zinnia.


Shelly's landscaping:
























Shelly's slave... er, I mean husband. (who needs a cabana boy when you've got beefcake at home?)



Shelly's pad:






And last but not least, Shelly!

Think I'll Go Out to Alberta

Weather's fine there ... etc (thank you Ian and Sylvia)

Got the boys to Shelly's, north of Edmonton, and their dad picked them up. The next day she and I took a tour of the local sights (actually a reconnaissance for free perennials left behind by a greenthumb who moved; highly successful) and in the evening we went to see my old neighbour and friend Helen in the city. We spent the following morning in coffee and chat, and then I headed for home again.

It was an eight-hour drive each way, smoothed by listening to John Grisham's novels: The Firm, The Client, and A Time to Kill. Before the last leg of the journey I stopped and spent one short night with Cathy in Saskatoon. With luck I'll be seeing her again in a couple weeks when we go back into the city to meet with friends coming out from Kelowna.

Finally it feels like summer. There's heat and at least a hint of rain. Mom's roses have begun to bloom.

Luscious Lovely Lilacs

If you have no lilacs outside your door, I pity you. Poor baby.

I've got your share. There are two long rows of mature bushes lining the lawn and garden and one single fancy lilac tree next to the back door. The yard is fragrant with them right now, such that I have difficulty tearing myself away when it's time to go to the office. The blooms won't last long. Thank goodness the evenings have been warm enough to open up all the windows and breathe deeply.

This year I didn't get sweetpeas planted. They are another of my favourites so I hope I am able to pick a few in bloom from someone else's patch. They smell divine.

The boys are getting their laundry done in preparation for packing. We'll be heading for Edmonton within the next day or two and they'll spend the month of July with their dad.

Work in Progress

Boys sure know how to make a mess.

They have to keep an eye out for their hammers though, because Puppycakes gets bored with no one to play with.

See that scaffold? It's not very high, but if I had to climb up on it I'd break out in a sweat, and if I had to work on it I'd work with one hand only, as the other hand would be hanging onto something for dear life.

Yesterday Scott and Devon put in a long day and were at it again early this morning. They've got good weather for it— sunshine with breeze, so it's not too hot.

When Devon first came down from the north (Flin Flon area) where they don't have woodticks (yet; we never had them here 40 years ago either), he did quite a bit of that little jig that my sister Joan was doing when she visited. Now he's used to it and takes it in stride; probably because the ticks don't seem to like him anyway. Lucky b__t__d.

Emil is shaving so he can be ready to go with me to the house concert in town this afternoon at three o'clock. I'm going to do some work on the computer and a little kitchen cleanup (neverending) and start a chicken cooking before we leave, so the men will have something ready for supper.

He Who Must Not Be Mentioned on My Blog figures it's time he bought a razor, since his chin is covered with peachfuzz. Cute.

Re-roofing Begins

He looks so sexy when he's working.

What am I talking about...he's always working. And I do find him sexy. (More than you wanted to know, sisters-in-law?)

This morning Scott and Devon started preparing the roof for shingling. They were tearing off the eaves or something when I made a mad dash for Wynyard to pick up a part, before the John Deere dealership closed at noon, for the riding mower.

Was worried I might not make it in time when a local RCMP officer stopped me just north of town to advise detouring around the main street, where the annual country fair parade had just begun. I took the long way through residential streets to the other side of town, and passed groups of people sitting on the grass or parked in lawnchairs in their front yards, waiting for the parade to come by. I waved and smiled royally as I sailed on by.

First Rain, Now Heat - Everything is Growing

We've got bloomage!

I'm about to visit Marilou at her greenhouse down the road and see if she has any portulaca left. The hail pretty much tore mine all up and I doubt it will come back. But I love the bright colours of portulaca and must have some in my garden.

This little one is growing like a weed.

Doesn't she have a pretty face? I don't think she's going to be a small dog either, judging by her paws. Here Chloe lies in the dirt hole left by the back step when it was dragged away from the house. I don't know why the ladder is there because we just use the front door now.

Cute Calves, Damn Mosquitoes

Cute little jiggers, these twin calves.

It's June 25th, Emil informs me. His teacher and I had a meeting at the school this afternoon and she admits she uses him for a calendar whenever possible, as do I. He's also very handy at telling me how old any of my nieces, nephews, sisters, brother, uncles, aunts or various other people are turning on their birthdays.

His teacher, the best in the west, tells me that when Emil's not at school it's noticed, because he fills up a room. Probably because he's so busy talking to people. Mr Social Butterfly, that boy.

We're getting some heat. The nights, when not windy and cool, are mild and fragrant. Evening-scented stock blooms in the garden outside my window, and the lilac trees have cast their intoxicating aroma upon the warm breezes today. It was hard to tear myself away to come over here to work this morning.

Don't ask me about the mosquitoes. You do not want to know. Little bastards. We're still picking half a dozen ticks off the dogs every day and I'm counting the weeks till tick season supposedly ends. But the mosquitoes— they're even swarming in the middle of a hot, windy day.

Yesterday a female yellow warbler was killed when it slammed into the picture window. Its mate will be doing double time to feed babies, now. An upset and anxious duck woke me at 4 a.m. and was still sqwawking several hours later; something must have been hunting near its nest. That's no surprise, as the cats we took over to the new place after I got the puppy are already fattening up visibly. We feed them dry food of course, but they appear to take their hunting seriously. I hope it's the rodents they're cleaning up on, and not the birds.

Too bad they don't eat mosquitoes.

Emil, age 21

#1 Son at age 21, with his "Grandpa Benson haircut" for summer.

Emil says "I'm 21. I'm an adult now."

Drywall Boy

Scott, having a little refreshment.

I was in town this afternoon for a massage (my turn to be spoiled) and afterward spotted Devon, my fellow "outlaw" (our sweethearts are brother and sister), coming out of the liquor store. So after picking up groceries at the Co-op store I stopped in where the boys are working.

"A ha!" I exclaimed, walking into the house, "so this is what you guys really do all day!"

I stayed long enough to have one beer with them—my limit before driving, and even at that I wonder if I should be getting behind the wheel— and came to the house to deliver the shopping bags and whip up a pot of chili. They were going back to work when I left at nearly 6:00 so they'll be ravenous when they get here.

***

I recently read The Lincolns, Portrait of a Marriage and have rambled on about it at the Stubblejumpers webpage if you're interested. Link at right.

Northern Lights Frame

Waiting for the northern lights to appear.

I know, I know ... I have to wait for night. This window in the living room faces north and when the northern lights come a-calling, guess who's gonna get a headsup and will know it's time to get outside? Moi! I can hardly wait. Been too long since I've seen the aurora borealis.

This row of mature caragana trees divides the front lawn from the driveway. Right now they are in bloom and buzzing with giant bees, and visited by large yellow butterflies with black borders on their wings.

The lilacs are thinking of blooming, because if they don't get a move on, my flower garden will outshine them. Since the rain, I can almost hear the perennials singing; can almost see them growing. They are as happy as can be. My columbines, a variety of colours, have burst into elegant display across the wide arc of garden, and the oriental poppies, bright orange, have begun to open up one at a time. The painted daisies may be dancing about, by the time I get home this afternoon.

Norwegian Whist

An evening's entertainment at the nursing home in Kelvington.

Grandma, on the far left, is playing Norwegian whist with her girlhood friend, Esther, next to her. The lady in the pink sweater is an observer, as was I.

Esther said that it used to be common to get a four-day stretch of rain, but that one never sees that anymore. After the past few days she may be withdrawing that pronouncement. It rained off and on all day yesterday, thundered and rained all night (Casper ripped the screen off the door, trying to get into the house), and is carrying on today. Which is why I'm over here, baking bread. Might as well make hay while the sun shines, or in my case, bake bread while the heavens empty.

The motor for my kneading machine has finally been repaired so it's getting a test run. It saves me huffing and puffing (and giving my pecs a workout) for 15 minutes over a huge hunk of heavy dough comprising 15 cups of whole wheat flour and six cups of oatmeal. I love my kneading machine. In four hours I will be loving fresh, warm oatmeal bread slathered with butter.

Esther reminded Grandma of their schooldays, when together they walked more than three miles to attend the one-room schoolhouse with about 60 other youngsters of all ages. When it was raining, they'd arrive soaked and cold and would stand by a furnace trying to get warm. I asked, "Didn't you take umbrellas to keep dry?" Esther said they wouldn't have been caught dead carrying an umbrella; you had to be tough, in those days.

I can't imagine myself letting my kids out the door in pouring rain to walk three miles without an umbrella. She's right; kids must have been far tougher.

***

Speaking of kids, Emil turned 21 today. It's still hard to believe that my three-pound baby is now a young man who weighs more than I do. At his request we have a storebought birthday cake and he hopes to go to my sister Karen's this evening to share it with her and Uncle Dick, as Emil calls my brother-in-law. If we can catch them at home and if they're willing. Nothing like waiting till the last minute to plan things, although I ordered the cake on Friday.

***

Email~

Hi Cath,
We've had rain for several days in a row now; thunderstorm so loud and continous last night that old Casper tore the screen off the door, trying to get in. TWO dogs scared shitless of thunder; oh goody. Hope Casper doesn't pass it along to the puppy, who at this point seems to be wondering what all the fuss is about. I need to get to a pet store and buy some kind of sedative to calm these animals when they get into this state of hysteria, before one of them goes into shock and dies on us. Apparently it can happen.
Emil goes to camp on Sunday Aug 16th so that's our night for a sleepover. I haven't booked us a room yet.
I'm over here to bake bread, since it's cooler than we're used to lately. But it's still quite balmy, rain or no rain, and it's thundering again dammit so I suppose I should shut down my computer. I'm about to use the kneading machine but the repair guys didn't fix the break in the electric cord so Scott suggested I wait till he gets back here with some electrical tape. Unfortunately he went to his parents' to put in a load of clothes (told you the washer has been leaking here?) and his sister from Denare Beach is there so obviously he's not hurrying back here, aware that I am w.a.i.t.i.n.g. He's accustomed to making me wait, I guess!
It's Emil's 21st birthday so he likes the idea of me and he being alone here all afternoon, anyway. Still his mama's boy. If he had his way we'd go out for supper and leave Scott and Everett at home. Brat.
Don asked who was with me at the concert; he didn't recognize you. I said I'd tell you that you were looking so much more gorgeous than the first time he met you, if that's possible, that it's understandable he wouldn't be sure who it was. He said yeah, tell you that, and insist that you come out for every house concert from now on. There is one on the 28th, a bluesy band with a female lead. I forget the name at the moment.
Oh here's Scott, will go see if my machine works.
Say hi to Sue-Q for me when you see her,
Kathy

Bare Essentials

Freshly painted cupboards, old windows.

I'm really only half-assed moved over to the new house. I've unpacked my new dishes (when I turned 50 my two sisters spoiled me by gifting a wad of cash, which I used to round out my Princess House collection to my heart's content) and there is only a skeleton kitchen setup, since the stove isn't usable because the electrical outlet isn't ready for it.

I've got an electric kettle, an electric griddle, a plunger-type coffee pot, an electric theatre-popcorn maker and an electric rice/vegetable steamer. Between these and a fridge, what more does a gal really need? I've got two comfy rocking chairs, low to the floor (just the way we average-height women like them), my houseplants, and my bass guitar. I'm as snug as a bug in a rug.

The window to the right of the cupboard in the above photo is the only thing that drives me crazy. When I sit at the kitchen table, the lower window-casing is right at my eye level, so I can't see out. The window that is going in there will be deeper and wider and I can hardly wait. That's the only thing I'm impatient about. Bedframes, couches— who needs 'em? I'm making do just fine. But to be able to see outside when I'm at the kitchen table; that will be a luxury.

It's rainy today so I'm over at the "old" place, baking a giant batch of granola and some chocolate chip banana bran muffins. Gotta use the oven when the weather suits.

On weekdays I come over here to work for several hours and usually pack up another box of dishes and take them back with me. It'll be less to do later on.

Dogbones

The baby is never far from the old one.

In town the other day I was buying a flea and tick collar for the big mutt Casper and decided to get treats for the hounds: a large one for the large one, and a wee one for the wee one. Here they are giving the rawhide bones a gnaw. Doesn't Casper look happy? She's smiling.

None of the tick repellants can be used on a pup that is under three months old, and Chloe is only about 10 weeks, so there was nothing for her and instead I am pulling ticks off with my bare fingertips every day. It is so frigging gross, especially when they're already swollen with blood. But it must be done. The little sweetheart just sits there and lets me do it; she appears to need all the attention and cuddles she can get, as neither Casper nor the cats are letting her snuggle up or play with them. They're still growling and snapping or swiping at her face when she gets too close.

Each day I take my freshly brewed coffee outside to the front step right after doing my Tibetan Rites in the living room. "Good morning, my girls! How's it going?" They mount the steps to be petted and have their ears scratched, and little Chloe puts her head on my lap. She wants to chew my sweater sleeves and bite my fingers with her razor-sharp baby teeth, but is quickly learning what "no" means.

Sometimes the three cats are there, also desiring some human affection, and I am sorely lacking enough hands to satisfy them all. The two year-old kittens have a bad habit of jumping up and digging their claws in; they're learning not to, though. I hope. In the meantime they seem to be excited about all the long grass to hunt in; I've seen two of them eating mice. Ralph, Grandma's big black half-Himalayan that has been with us for three years, has been a bit more scarce. Unfortunately he is a bird-hunting cat that is quite successful, even without front claws.

*** I've always been bored when people ramble on about their pets too often. Now I'm one of those people, eh?

Thunder and Lightning, Oh Yeah!

Watching the rain and hail come down, from the bedroom window.

And what a storm it was. Within a half-hour the yard received more than an inch of rain. Hail was the size of marbles and hit the garden so hard that after the first few minutes I, downhearted, couldn't watch anymore. The rain was so heavy that a river rushed through and over my flowers like a raging torrent and I feared they'd be washed away.

This morning I was delighted to discover that damage was minimal. A few annuals are broken and the leaves of some perennials have taken a beating, but overall the plants are looking fairly happy.

The leaves of the three burr oaks next to the front lawn have doubled in size overnight and are a richer green. They took a licking but protected the ferns and hostas beneath them.

Guess I won't have to water for a few days.

Yesterday Sun, Today Thunder

Yesterday's view from the drive-thru in town, where we celebrated Son #2's raft of recommends.

Today's the last day of school till the end of August.

Little Old Lady from Past Wadena

Go Granny, go Granny, go Granny, go!

Just showing you the deep white crescent under my chin where the sun don't shine. I end up with a pale white patch there, while the rest of my neck and face tans.

When I was a kid, my neck turned almost black, so that Mom would think it was dirty and try to scrub me clean.

Nowadays I cover up and wear a hat, but even the odd 15 minutes in the sun without protection changes my colour pretty fast. It's already begun, and we've hardly had any heat at all before the last couple days. Now it's sweltering and we're crying for rain.

I know, I need to take the camera outside. The above is a webcam photo, all I have.

And We're Off and Running into a New Week

How bad is this? I have to steal a picture from the front of a greeting card. Or maybe it was a magazine.

Quick Notes:
a. I brought Chloe home Friday and as of Saturday morning the old girl Casper did not even think about following the van when I drove out of the yard. Problem solved. Chain may see no action for the next many years.
b. Rosalie you are the second person who has suggested Casper is a Great Pyrenees. Maybe she is crossed with one, as her fur is shorter than what I see in pictures— it sticks up, more like the hair of a husky or shepherd. She also has small dark brown spots on her ears and a curly tail and she's very big-boned. She's also not one of those waggy-tailed friendly dogs if she doesn't know you (and even sometimes when she has met you before). She's standoffish and would (and has, before she came to live here) give me pause if I was thinking about getting out of my vehicle in her yard, with her back-hair up and her looking at you over her shoulder. She's never bitten anyone, to my knowledge, and that's good, but I like this watchdog in her. Especially when I'm staying there alone; not that there's anything to worry about in these parts. After two weeks there I could pretty much be comfortable leaving the doors unlocked all night, although it wouldn't be my habit.

Emil and Everett have just arrived from school so I'll visit with them for a while before heading back "home" where I have had the stupendous good fortune of being able to sleep with the bedroom window open for the past two nights. It's been horribly hot today (not complaining, not complaining) and the sky has just darkened over and a few sprinkles have come down. We need a serious rain.

So far the house at Golden Grain Farm remains cool during the day. Whether that continues once there is more coming and going remains to be seen. Right now it's quiet except for the birds all around the yard and the old dog barking at the young one to tune her in or scare her from Casper's space. Otherwise Chloe would jump on Casper constantly, to play. I haven't turned the radio on once in the two weeks since I started staying there; a rest from news and noise. I could get accustomed to it, though I'd soon miss other bodies in the house. Everett spent the weekend over there with me and it was much appreciated.

He and his classmates made jam at school so he is giving me a sample on toast. Delish.

The boys were over for supper last night but unfortunately the step that had the handrailing has been dragged away from the house, so Emil has to crawl up and down the steps leading to the front door. Hate to see him doing that, at his ripe old age of almost 21, but he's heavy enough now that it's dangerous for me to try to support him as he walks up. We could both end up on the ground.

Yes, he'll be 21 on June 21st. He has only two more days of school for this year. Everett starts exams this week, and is hoping for a couple recommends. I'm glad I don't go to school or take classes anymore. Who has time? Who wants homework, and study? Not this gal.

Starburst Quilt

This handmade quilt was a yard-sale purchase when we spent nearly a year in Kelowna.

Mom nearly had a conniption when I showed her the embroidered dedication on its underside: "To my beloved granddaughter...."

I had asked the seller if she was sure she wanted to part with the quilt, and said that she would regret doing so, one day. She insisted that no, her grandmother gave her quilted items every year.

When I told Mom I thought I'd go back to the house and tell the young woman how to reach me if she ever changed her mind, Mom advised me not to, because "That girl doesn't deserve to have a quilt like this."

Mom knew the hours upon hours of time that went into the making of the quilt, and was incensed that anyone would sell it at all, let alone for $20, which is probably what I paid.

As a bedspread in the master bedroom at Golden Grain Farm, it barely covers the kingsize mattress I had been sleeping on till this weekend, when I ceded the bed to Everett and moved onto a single mattress on the office floor. We'd been considering keeping the kingsize bed in there but this has made me realize that if we did so, I wouldn't be able to use the quilt Mom gave me as a bedspread. So we'll be keeping our queensize.

Garden Gnome

He Who Must Not Be Mentioned On My Blog planted his garden last weekend: sunflowers and peas.

Today he'll sow radishes, spinach and green onions, and transplant the lonely canteloupe. He thinks it won't bear fruit without another plant of its own kind though.

***

Casper didn't even think about following the van when we drove out of the yard a few minutes ago. Looks like the pup for company has done the trick. Fingers crossed.

I put a cardboard box on its side near the house and plumped an old quilted blanket, one used to cover garden vegetables in the fall, inside it, and Chloe was immediately contented and spent the night there. Not far from Casper, but not too close either or Casper growls and barks at her. At first I was a little worried —Casper is scary when she snarls—but she doesn't bite the pup, only gives her fair warning that her chest is not to be jumped upon and her territory is her own.