Mottoware

In June it will be a year since I took Mom's mom's mother's mottoware from the top of the fridge and shoved it into boxes under a bed so that Scott could install the new kitchen cabinets.

"I need a favour," I said to him this morning over coffee. "Please get the shelves up so I can display those old dishes again. I hate having them shoved away out of sight."

"I'm trying," was his response.

Fair enough, I thought.

I need a retired boyfriend with carpentry skills. Know anyone?

Already Gone

The way things were a couple days ago.

Oh yes, they are always changing.

It drives poor Scott nuts. 

I like a change though, even if it's only the living room furniture and doodads. 

I moved the dragon tree further right, where there is more light -- even though it's further from the window.

Who was Here

It was Sharon Butala's memoir The Perfection of the Morning that reminded me that everywhere I'm walking, there might have been a teepee camp or a well-travelled hunting path.
I live on territory that was once occupied by the Saulteaux.
What were their lives like?
They were peaceable, I imagine, because they had figured out that fighting with your neighbours means loved ones are going to lose their lives, and who wants that? No one. It's better to be civil and trade fairly for what you want and what you need. It's obvious.

Oh beauteous darlings

It's a damn good day

Water laying on the ice

Dark-eyed junco in the bath

Katej

People are always asking me, "Do you prefer to be called Kathy or Kate?"

I don't have a preference, but my family calls me Kathy.

There are some old friends who call me Kay, although I don't think I ever really felt like a "Kay." Kate feels more right, for some reason; more me. (I answer to Madam Editor too, since Alison -- Madam Publisher -- has been calling me that since I started at the newspaper two years ago.)

When I was 19 and embarked on the nine-month KATIMAVIK volunteer project (the little sojourn that somehow got translated, by gossip and rumour around here, into me being part of a "cult" that handed out flowers at the airport; hilarious! i still can't help laughing), there was a group of 30 of us. In that group were three Kathys, and two of us lived in the same household, so to make it easy I took "Kay" as an identifier. (I realize now that it wasn't at all necessary, but then I probably thought "K" would be cool). Among that group of people, I'm still known as Kay by most.

Then when I got connected to the internet for the first time and needed to come up with an email address, naturally I tried for Kathy and KJohnson and KathyJ and so on, but they were all taken and I'd've had to add a number in order to use my own name, which is an overly common one. I didn't want to use a number, so kept trying variations until finally hitting upon one that was free: katej.

And so, in email, I began signing myself as Kate. It only made sense. And now it's what my fingers type out automatically and it's how my online acquaintances know me.

And that is your little bit of Kate-age for today.

Now: last night's supper dishes to do (Emil thoroughly enjoyed that chicken) and I plan to bake bread and get out for a walk and do laundry and change bedding; oh, and must fill those bird feeders again, and not to forget — I've got to work for a couple hours, too, on the NEWS webpage and the archives. When you line it all up like that, it looks like a busy day ahead, doesn't it!

We've Got Robins

This blog has, according to Stats, had almost 2000 pageviews today. Why? I can't think of one good reason why there should be such a ridiculously high number for this little ol' bloggy thing. Did I inadvertently write a porny title or something? 

In the back yard this morning was a flock of big fat robins; they looked twice the size that robins normally do. What's up with that?

Three things always remind me of my friend Luanne, whom I spoke to on the phone earlier today:
1. I'm baking bread. Lu's a bread-baker too.
2. I'm putting on the winter scarf she gave me when I asked for it because I loved its colours.
3. I'm listening to Eleanor Wachtel interview an author on CBC Radio. It's something about Wachtel's conversational tone.

If you're interested in tarot cards, I've been including one-card readings in the STUBBLEJUMPERS entries. Any café worth its salt should have a card reader, even if it isn't a Russian tearoom. Please remember, I'm not Blondi Blathers (except on Twitter, where @blondiblathers is me). I have placed her as a character into my childhood memories and used some people and experiences in my life to fill hers out, but that's it. Over at Stubblejumpers Café, I'm just watching Blondi and the others and writing down where they go, all in the service of practice writing in the third person.

This afternoon a chicken is roasting with potatoes and carrots for an early supper before I have to drive Emil back to town to be ready for his work week, which picks up again tomorrow. His dad's coming out from St. Albert on Friday to spend the weekend with our boys, and Emil's pretty excited about that.

From the Corner

When Emil and I got home from town last night, it was damn cold out there. I was sure it had to snow. By this morning it hadn't, but looking through the window and hearing the wind blow, the great outdoors was not in the least appealing.

I went out anyway because the bird feeders were empty, and discovered to my pleasure that the day is mild even if there's ice in the breeze. The air is as soft, rich and sweet as it might be in a magical fairyland. I couldn't resist a short walk.

Never, never go outside without my eyeglasses, I tell myself. But sometimes I just want to set my face free of the things and away I go, knowing better. And each time, I regret it.

Today there is a joyful twittering in the trees across the road, but I couldn't see what kind of birds were making it.

Will I ever learn!

Nothing to Tell

When you don't get to the office till 10, and you've a full day's work to do, and you stop once to walk through snow, slush and water to buy buns and slices of ham to eat at your desk, and you take an hour for your regular shiatsu treatment, well then you don't leave the office before seven o'clock like I did tonight, and when you get home you wash some dishes and eat some chicken noodle soup with crackers for supper and then sit down and watch a movie and before you know it, it's past 11 and your eyes are pressing down and you know bed is going to feel damn good and even better because the radio will be on and will talk you right to sleep.

Bon soir, mes amies. Á la prochaine ... .

Out and In

Yesterday I could walk out past the barn on bare grass.

I'm told the woodticks are already out, which means it's time to start adding bitter citrus oils to my bathwater again, and slathering wrists, ankles, neck and hair with oils the ticks don't like. Gross things, and we have been overrun by them in recent years.

Today it's snowing and everything is white again, including the sky. I don't want to go out. But the birds have been so active at the feeders that, even though I just filled them yesterday afternoon, they are almost empty. Darn hungry, those little beasties.

One of the best things about going outside when it's cold is coming back in.

Activity Around the Yard

Sure, Mr Doodle does a lot of lying about, but he seems to be the only animal doing so.

Outside, a pair of magpies is making a nest in the row of lilacs near the back step. That won't be good. I thought about knocking it down before eggs are laid, but I don't want to hurt their feelings. They've done a lot of work! Alas, it would be the smart thing to do. Their noise drives us nuts enough when the nests are quite a bit further from the house. Scott always threatens to shoot them, but never does. This is the kind of man I like: one that takes no pleasure in killing, even when it may be a solution to irritation.

With no cats around the yard these days — something got our tomcat Bob and dragged him off to the chicken coop this winter — the smaller wild animals have become less shy. I got my first glimpse of the rabbit yesterday afternoon:

I won't be too happy when it discovers my flowers this summer. Click for a better look.

At one point I could hear noise east of the house, but there being no window anywhere in that wall, could see nothing. Thought maybe I was imagining things, or maybe a vehicle was on the road on the other side of the bush. Was about to put on a jacket and boots and go see, when the noise moved to the back of the house. A certain someone was close to being stuck out there:

Through the office window

Me & Frazey Ford

It was the rawness of her voice, the emotion in it.
Where was that? Somewhere in Edmonton? I seem to remember her onstage but, like many memories, they aren't reliable. Maybe she was on TV. It was a long time ago.
What struck me most, next to her singing, was that she was on that stage in front of a full audience and she was missing — if I remember correctly — her top teeth.
Onstage singing without your teeth. Now that takes nerve!



Another thing I'm noticing a lot of lately is that women are no longer wearing loose, dark clothing in an effort to hide "extra" poundage. Nosirree! They are putting on pretty duds, tight ones, even, and letting it all hang out. Gotta admire that kind of self-respecting, take-me-as-I-am courage. It's well past time we stopped hiding ourselves away, as if we're not perfect enough.



Could I be completely wrong about the teeth?

Cool Spring Day

At this rate it won't be long before all the snow is gone. However, it's still cold out there. The wind pretty much slices into your eyeballs. I don't much want to go outdoors, even though the sun is shining and I know from long experience that once I'm out there I'll be as content as could be, as long as I'm dressed warmly. 

So I'll go, and see what I can see. 

Last night I left the office and stopped over to see Emil, who's had a cold all week and wanted his mom to make sure he's all right. After picking up a bag of groceries,  I drove out of town. Nearing home, I saw an owl perched in a treetop. Maybe this is the one I've been hearing; the one that left its wingmarks in the snow along the driveway. 

Because I had a few things to bring in, I pulled right up to the step and got a start when a large bird flew past, right in front of the car. The prairie chicken! Oh how nice it is to have chickens we don't have to look after. We are careful not to mention it, though, to Emil, for he is afraid of chickens. We don't know why, but he is. He only likes to eat them. If we got chickens for the coop here in the farmyard, he'd think twice about coming for a weekend. I guess we could call it by its correct name (spruce grouse?) and maybe then he wouldn't make the connection.

Now well on its way out

And now, to compile and send out my monthly newsletter, Kate's Five Things.
See ya later.

What Can I Say

It's just that the sky is so darn pretty.
What a beautiful day it was.
A day for walking!
I am happier out there on a fairweather day than anywhere or anytime else.

Click pics to enlarge.

It's the little things. 

Like the way these dry stems absorb the sun's heat and melt the snow around them:

Like my first sighting of a slough beside the road:

Or the way the sign on this tree tells hunters and trespassers, Don't:

And that I got to wear a spring jacket (and no ski pants) for the first time this year:

Finding the Funny

“You can’t throw that away!” she said to me, wiping her tears.

I had, just the day before, finished reading through a journal from when I was 18. It had taken me a long time because — 18 again? No thanks — but finally I’d seen it all and decided what, if anything, was worth keeping. The binder containing the rest of the lined looseleaf covered with ink was slipped into a big black plastic bag destined for the fire bowl I’m about to light up any day now.

My high school friend Bev came over and we sipped herbal tea, talked, ate Mary Psovsky’s perogies for supper, talked, drank wine, and talked. In the course of the day I remembered something in the journal about a situation with a mutual friend, and retrieved the binder for Bev’s entertainment.

I flipped through and read several passages aloud.
We laughed so hard, we cried.
It was high drama, man!

"So ... are you going to leave your Christmas balls up all summer?"

Animals are About

The blessings of a fresh snowfall are the animal tracks plainly visible the next day.
There is a lot of wildlife around our yard, but we don't see all the activity.
It was a glorious walk, I can tell you.

The rabbit

Marks of a bird's wings when it swooped in and caught something? A rodent?
I did hear an owl the other evening. 

The prairie chicken that makes its way ever-so-slowly around the yard and house.

All this and more, just along our driveway.

Then down the road:

Probably deer.

Sunday morning:
I knew I was forgetting something. The vehicle tracks and my old dog, who now lies in the road waiting for me to turn and walk back.

Me & Jane Fonda

"For feminists, a belief system is the enemy, not men."

"As the Indian sage Kristnamurti said, 'You think you are thinking your thoughts, you are not; you are thinking the culture’s thoughts.' "

These are two quotes from a piece written by Jane Fonda about how she came to understand feminism rather than assuming it was a distraction from the "real" problems of the world. Good article, Jane. 

Me, I became a feminist on the day I looked around at the boys in my Grade 6 class and thought, "Them, superior to me? I think not!"

http://www.lennyletter.com/politics/news/a311/my-convoluted-journey-to-feminism/

Barbershop at Daryl's House

We saw/heard JohnnySwim on TV a while ago and liked what they did there.

They're guests on Live from Daryl's House, or so I discovered this morning.

But first, there's a great little barbershop welcome.
If you like barbershop
(I do. I'd kill to sing in a quartette)
Listen to this:
http://www.livefromdarylshouse.com/currentep.html?ep_id=80

***
Joan, I wouldn't have said Mom was really a fan, but she was only 21 or so and young women and girls were pretty excited about the Beatles being on Ed Sullivan. We'll have to ask Dad if Mom actually liked their music or anything else about them, for that matter. I doubt it!

***
Beautful hoarfrost all around the yard this morning.

Winter's goodbye kiss to Spring.

Soul Searching

I always pictured the soul as looking like a black piston

- must look up pistons, see if they look the way i think -

Nope, they don't. So how, then?

I imagined it as this solid black cylindrical object that stands upright in the centre of your thorax. Like a black candle about one-and-a-half inch in diameter and six inches high.

Where I got that idea, who knows.

So I thought I'd look at images of souls, to see how other people imagine them.

Hm.

Source: https://beinglynnpaterson.files.wordpress.com

Here's a kinda nice one.

Ha Ha. A blog to add to the list below:

http://www.godammit.com/2012/11/19/art-washes-away-from-the-soul-the-dust-of-everyday-life/

Nowhere do I see an image of the human soul the way I, as a child, imagined it.
Where did this imagined image come from? Words do provoke images, sure, but ...
Oh and also, the soul seemed to me a relatively heavy object.

Very like this! Only closed at the top, and black, and smooth:

http://www.theafterlife.ca/difference-between-the-sprit-and-the-soul/

Here's something alittle different:

http://microbalance.blogspot.ca/2012/07/a-complete-map-of-human-soul.html

Or how about this:

http://www.coolweirdo.com/amazing-photos-of-thehumansoul-leaving-thebody.html

And that is enough soul-searching for one day. 

Our Boy Duckster

Ducky was snuggled into my left arm for a good cuddle. I thought about how affectionate he is and how happy and excited when I come home at the end of the day.
     I thought about the way dogs love people, and then I thought about the way we re-home dogs as if their feelings or attachments don't exist or, if they do, as if they are of little to no importance. It's something we rarely consider when we play god with a dog.
     What must it be like for pets to be torn from people and sometimes other animals they love and plopped into homes with new people?
     We know they appear to transfer their affections quite easily, as if they've forgotten all about their previous owner. But is that really the case? Or do they grieve, and wonder why, and struggle to adjust, and fear the next great upheaval? We're told that dogs live in the present moment, and I'm sure they do to a great extent, but I'll wager there's more to them than that, too.

***
     Scott has had Ducky to the vet again, and more medications came home, but Ducky is still scratching to beat 60. Yesterday he scratched above an eye until he drew blood. We are beyond puzzled. Scott has been doing internet research for months, trying to find home remedies for relief of symptoms, and so on.
    The vet insists Ducky doesn't have a mite or parasite, that he is allergic to something. But what? I took away a fluffy blanket I gave him in the fall; maybe there's something in it that he reacts to. He is eating all different food now; lots more real meat, less commercial crap.
     Maggie the Librarian says she had a cat that was allergic to flea bites. One bite and it drove the cat crazy. There have been no fleas seen here, but around the time Ducky started scratching, I had a couple bites on my right arm that could've been flea bites; according to the internet, that's what they looked and itched like. It was well past mosquito season. Scott thinks it a coincidence and discounts it. I wonder.

Rita & Joni

Rita Wilson has put out an album containing a tribute to Joni Mitchell.
What?
I didn't know much about Ms Wilson other than that she's an actor and is married to Tom Hanks.
I followed the link to listen to the song, half-expecting not to be impressed.
However, the lady has a lovely voice and sings a lovely song to Joni, so I was very pleasantly surprised.
 If you're an admirer of Joni's music, you'll recognize all the references to Joni's songs.
Anyhoo, here you go:

A Bird a Day

That's how dangerous our north-facing windows are.
Each day I hear a feathered friend hit the living room window.
Usually they bounce off and fly up into the oak trees, but not always, not in the past three days.
Two redpolls lie dead out there right now, and this little fluffball sat on the front step snowbank for quite a while this morning. I had begun to think about how to go about rescue & repair, but finally it was gone when I looked again.

Redpoll; picture taken through dining room window.

For years I kept "work" clothes, "paint" clothes, in a small pile in the closet. Finally I threw them out because they never got worn. Now I need them to prime and paint the birdsaver "beam" but I'm not a tidy painter and don't want to ruin my jeans. Isn't that always the way; isn't that the reason we hang onto things that we rarely use, that clutter our spaces.

***
Lorna, thanks for posting this link!
I was just about to sit down to work, but couldn't tear myself away and watched the whole thing.
Tribute to Paul McCartney: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RL76v3qoEeI&list=RDRL76v3qoEeI
I watched that first Ed Sullivan show the Beatles were on, but not closely. Mom was excited about it and got my little sister Karen and me out of bed to see them (I was about four and Karen was two). I was expecting real beetles to be singing and playing though, so was disappointed and bored, as musical acts were of no interest to me.