Guitars and Grandma

Glen in his workshop

Scott and I picked Aunt Reta up in the city on Sunday. She stays with her friends Glen and Janet when she's there, and on Sunday Glen gave us a little tour of his guitar-making factory, which is in their backyard. He has himself engineered and built most of the machines used to make his Fury guitars. Scott was quite fascinated and we will have to go back again so he can get his fill; as it was we wanted to get back home so Reta could see Grandma. Scott had a million questions and was obviously curious about the details as Glen showed him how the instruments are made.

Grandma's condition hasn't changed since she had her stroke on Thursday night. She is eating and drinking virtually nothing, and has not been put on any life support system. She seems comfortable, is unable to move or talk, is mostly asleep, and doesn't seem to recognize anyone when she does the odd time open her eyes. Unless there is some miraculous recovery, it is only a matter of time now.

Snow's Going Fast

Scott rented a backhoe to push snow away from the back yard, behind the garden.

In the front yard he used the tractor, and Everett is shovelling snow away from the house.

In other news, Grandma had a stroke on Thursday night and I'm just about to head north to go see her. Aunt Reta is flying in from Phoenix and I'll drive to Saskatoon tomorrow to pick her up.

Bit Wet

Moisture Map: we live in the red, northeast of Wynyard about 30 miles. Click on image to enlarge.

For the story (or non-story, to be honest; dull reading), click here.

We're off to town in a half hour, so Everett can drive, and drive, and drive some more. We'll do laundry, pick up Emil, get groceries (his favourite place to go is the Co-op Store, though he doesn't help me shop) and probably treat ourselves to something from the local drive-thru, which opened for the season just a week ago. Everett is dying for an ice cream Blizzard. The sun is shining so it seems appropriate; I have just paid off the last $300 of debt I had in the world, and am forthwith footloose and fancy-free, so I deserve a milkshake. And it's the weekend! My work week is nearly done except for a few hours I'll put in over the next two days. Scott has earned us a steak supper tomorrow night; sometimes his clients spoil him (and as a result, me) when he's finished a job. Anyone's cooking but mine — yippee! I was all over that invitation.

And that is life down on the farm ....

Too Nice Out to Sit in Here

The porch, repository of homeless stuff; remember the basement is a flood zone

At the Festa Campetre in Italy, they know how to have a good time

The little dog laughed to see such sport

Can't Make a Move Quite Yet

In the hallway I finally tacked up this set of wall hangings Mom made; I could not find one arrangement that was appealing to my eye, but at least they're up.

It'll be a while before I can do anything about flowers. But that doesn't mean I haven't started dreaming. And purchased seed packets for sunflowers, bachelor's buttons, wildflowers and sweetpeas.

Will be reducing the size of my existing flower garden this year, for several reasons: 1) it takes me three hours a day to keep it weeded to my satisfaction. I like being out there, but that's too much, particularly when it rains and I can't do it, but the weeds still grow; 2) the garden is clay, with only a couple inches of topsoil; I've added to the topsoil, but really my flowers deserve better; and 3) the garden area needs to be built up and angled to keep water draining away from the house, so we're going to do that and plant grass instead.

This means a lot of digging again this year as I move dozens of perennials to new locations. Can hardly wait.

Still lots of snow; Everett is out shovelling it away from the south side of the house right now. Water's started coming into the basement, as expected. Scott broke out more of the concrete floor with a mallet last night, to make a place to put a different pump or something. He tells me what he's doing but might as well tell a bowl of cold oatmeal about this stuff. I'm just grateful he knows what to do, and does it.

Back to work. Maybe when office hours are over (I work 10 to 2:30, with a five-minute break every hour to get away from the computer and move blood into my legs, and a half-hour for lunch; don't you wish you had my job?), Everett and I will take a drive into town. He needs the practice and Emil needs his rubber boots to walk in the puddles on the way home from work; my library book is overdue and though it's doubtful I'll whiz through the rest of it before we go, I still tell myself I'll return it today, though I won't if it's not done. I'd rather pay the fine; a good book is worth it. Note: The Best Laid Plans for good reason won the Canada Reads competition this year. Recommend.

The Basement Slog

Old sweetie Casper Doodle accompanies me to check out perennials frozen in pots and still buried in snow.

   So far today I’ve done most of the dishes (plugged pipes require emptying a basin of dirty water into toilet, several times when you're washing two days' worth) while listening to Colin James and the Little Big Band (to listen, scroll down), and am taking a break to let my fingers unwrinkle.
   It is 11 a.m. and I need to eat breakfast. Scott is making space in the quonset for some things from the basement, so he can break up concrete floor down there and change some plumbing in hopes of solving this teeth-grinding problem. He has phoned his cousin Kurt the Intrepid Photographer to help carry things from the basement, and I’ve rousted Everett from his bed so he will be ready when called upon.
   My plans for this afternoon were to work about 3 hours on a website project, and get my tax numbers pulled together to deliver to my friendly neighbourhood accountant tomorrow morning while Everett is getting his road test. Since Scott announced this morning that today’s the day to slog out the basement, I'll need to be helping instead.
   Had I had a day's warning I would have made sure to get the project hours in yesterday, instead of lazing about as I did. And oh it made for a fine day.
   There are a projected 15 hours or so to be done by next weekend, and since these things often take longer than expected, a week may not be enough. I’ll work on the computer tonight, I guess. It’s not the best time but since I won’t be in this chair all day, maybe it’ll be fine. Usually I'm not the brightest "prose medic" (my colleague's term) by the end of the day, and prefer to work earlier, when I'm sharper and my body complains less.




Everett has posted a new video to his page. Some of you are old enough to remember playing this game:
click here.

Joanne Bohl has sent a note too:
click here.

Old Lamps

This pair of lamps belonged to my grandparents, and if I'm not mistaken (correct me if I'm wrong, Reta) they came from Great-Grandma Bartley's house. Or not. Maybe they came from Great-Grandma Benson's. (Reta! Reta! Help me out here.) The white shade on the lamp below looks like something Grandpa picked up at an auction, and my sister Karen insists that the shade in the top photo is also not original, although it looks to me like it was meant for the globe beneath it.

My questions to you are these:
1.) What would you buy to give them a matching pair of new shades?
and
2.) What do you think the shades they came with were like?
and
3.) Have you seen lamps like these?

Last of the Snow Days

might just be the last snow pic this year ... if you're lucky

Lately, the air is mild and sweet to walk in, and there's even water on the road in places, but there is also so much ice that it is hazardous. I'm afraid to slip and fall, and turn back sooner than usual.
Yesterday, four Canada geese flew in formation low over the farmyard. One had a big chunk out of its right wing. And I heard crows. And the snow is snowball-fit. I'm enjoying this, the slow melt before the pump in the basement starts up again after its three-month respite from running every half-hour. The cats are courting each other out by the barn; a female lounges on the ground, rolls, stretches all sexy before the two interested males following her. Last week a bald eagle flew across the road while we were on our way to town.
Debbie Psovsky, I dreamed about you last night. You gave me a roll of nickels and asked for my advice on your writing. I woke up before having the chance to say Just Pick Up A Pen!
God, I love dreams. They're so goofy. But nice to see you, Deb! Also I need to call your mom. She agreed to make perogies for me every month, but I've had no space in my freezers for quite a while, and still don't. But I am missing those delicious potato dumplings.
On top of the chickens, beef and pork the two deep freezes are full of, it's time to stock up on homemade bread (since summer baking often warms the house too much). I don't know how we'll make space. Last week cheddar and mozzarella were on sale really cheap, and it's a staple around here, so we bought a shitload, grated it in the food processor, measured it into one-cup bags, and stuffed the freezer. These are really handy. Yesterday Everett made a double batch of baked beans; today we'll measure them into baggies and freeze those. Probably need to buy another deep freeze. Or start eating more. It's dangerous to open the freezer door these days, for fear of what may come tumbling out.

Since the weekend I'm feeling normal again, mostly, except for this powerful desire to sleep for a couple hours every afternoon. That is not me, or never has been, but this week it is, so I'm listening to my body and its request for rest. I lie in the lovely green bedroom, which delights me. After five years in a low-light basement bedroom, this cheery warm sunny room is a perfect heaven and a little arrow of appreciation goes out to Scott for it each time I fall gratefully onto the bed. Perhaps I don't really sleep, but maybe I doze a little throughout the time snuggled into my feather pillow. I thank my lucky stars for working conditions that allow me to do this; so much flexibility.

Seventy Today

Mom, with needle and thread

Hard to believe that Mom would have turned 70 today.
In this photo she's wearing some blouse I picked up at a garage sale for her. I realize now that she probably only put it on because I was coming over; normally she didn't wear large patterns or bold colours.
I'm still feeling like shit after two days without eating or being able to keep even water down till late last night, when a few crackers stayed the course. Today I'm on the mend, about to try some poached eggs and hoping my head will unfuzz. Has to; I'm getting right tired of this.
With luck, I'll put in my usual working day and then dig out my copy of Chicago, a favourite of Mom's, or Delovely, the last film we watched together, and imagine she's with me for the annual viewing.

Alive but not Kicking too Hard

Elementary schoolkids' bonspiel

Having a couple crappy days due to the neck thing, so Thursday was the last time I was out and around. Here are the photos to prove I DO leave the farm.

In family news, my cousin Heather has had a baby girl.

And now, back to doing nothing much. Darn it.

sign between buildings on main street

Leetle Mexican Chihuahua

Ducky loves the sun here in the office

Just sitting down to work an hour or two before driving to town to meet Karen for lunch. She is in Wadena helping out at the curling rink this morning, with a friend's kids.
We’ve got another sunny day and according to the local paper we are having a slow melt this spring, which is what we need if we hope to avoid the worst flooding.

And the chime, it is a-changin' ...

Only one collision since the chime went up; and no casualties.

Now playing:
http://ckua.streamon.fm/

Haven’t worked much yet today. Neckache slowed me down to fuzzy heaviness, took pill and laid down, still not pushing myself. It’s okay, I have all day and the evening, don’t have to apply pressure.
Sun shining, lovely in the house, Everett baking oatmeal bread (I've got the butter dish out in anticipation), radio on throughout the morning: Liz Taylor died, Saskatchewan budget announced, Libyan fighting, Japanese disaster.

-------------------------------------------
note:
no sooner did I give the chime report, then a bird slammed into the window *directly behind* the damn thing and left a smear of feathers on the glass. it wasn't on the snow anymore when everett went out, thank goodness. so: the chime has helped, but hasn't stopped all the craziness.

Soon there will be no more snow photos; I promise.

Relax, people ... relax! Spring will arrive soon enough, and along with it wet basements and washed-out roads. I can wait.

✿⊱╮

Everett came into the office yesterday and said “You know how you come and hug me sometimes, saying that you read that a minimum of four a day are necessary for health? Well, I haven’t hugged you for about two years. Would you like one?”

✿⊱╮

Mmmm... potato pancakes. Greasy but oh so fine and crispy.
We're having them with turnips & veggies au gratin. A gourmet feast, I tell you. Weird combination, but some days that's just the way she goes.

✿⊱╮

Films watched lately for a second time: About a Boy and Driving Miss Daisy.
I'm sure you've all seen them so I don't have to tell you much, but two things stood out.
In the first, a young boy sees his mother’s spirit in a park, and then discovers her unconscious after she has attempted suicide. His "sighting" isn't alluded to again; perhaps such things are common but rarely discussed.
In Driving Miss Daisy they play audio excerpts of a famous Martin Luther King speech, where he says it's not only the people who do bad things who will be judged, but also those who are apathetic and do/say nothing when they are aware of injustice. How many of us fit that bill? It made me consider the things I don't take on.

✿⊱╮

Thank you Ms KitchenKate for the perdy flowers I have stolen (er, copied) from you.

✿⊱╮

And finally, this comes via my friendly neighbourhood hairdresser, Janice:

 The driving manual says the average driver's reaction time is .75 seconds ...Or 1 car length for every 10 mph...Test your average reaction time. Be very careful; this can be addictive. Click on the link below and good luck.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/sleep/sheep/reaction_version5.swf

Family Resemblances

Caroline Engene

This is my great-grandmother (for those who know my family, this is Grandpa Benson's mother).
My sister Karen is the SPITTING IMAGE of this woman, who died long before I was born.
It is strange for me to see this picture, which pops up on my computer regularly (because it's in my desktop images folder), where the person looks so familiar and yet is dressed and wearing her hair in a way that naturally I've never seen my sister gussied up. And what's with that hairdo? Is her hair cut short on top and curled? Weird. Though kind of cute on Caroline, who may have been about 20 years old in this photo.
When I see such a strong resemblance among family members, I can't help wondering if they share other traits. Did Grandpa's mother have the same angelic singing voice as Karen does? Why not — the genes are so similar (right?) that the vocal chords would be too (right?).
Well I don't know, but I can't help wondering if this lady would have had the powerful right arm Karen had when she played ball. She wouldn't have played ball, but she probably churned butter, milked cows, carried water, did laundry by hand. And that's not all. What about the non-physical characteristics. Like, did she love animals like Karen does? Was she an excellent cook? Was she active in her community?
Two memories regarding Caroline Engene have been relayed to me. That my own mom as a child didn't like buttermilk, but would drink it when she visited her grandmother because "I'd drink anything she gave me, I loved her so much." And my aunt Reta remembers relatives saying that her grandparents were hard workers and took pride in the barns they built.

Helpful Hints

How many times is she going to make us look at that damn barn?

Some good stuff:
•Drink rosemary tea to alleviate melancholy or depression.
•Eating lettuce with your dinner is supposed to be calming, helping you to sleep and have pleasant dreams. Some say you should not have vinegar with your lettuce.
•Trying to remain relaxed but alert? Some studies suggest that the smell of apples, apple cider vinegar, or spiced apples have this effect. The right smell can make all the difference.
•Dill will lull cranky babies to sleep. Add dill infusion to the bath, sprinkle on a baby's blanket, or use as a hair rinse.
•Sage is considered a "ghost medicine," used to prevent nightmares. Strew it on the floor or in the bed.
Compliments of http://www.almanac.com/.

This Made ME Laugh Out Loud; You?

One more reason to love Roger Ebert, who posted the clipping above in his online journal.
Here's his webpage at the Chicago Sun-Times:
http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/

Porcupine Tracks

click to enlarge

There was a big fat porcupine slowly making its way across the field when I saw these tracks (not mine, which are on the right) on the road, where it had likely crossed.

This doesn't look exactly like the track pattern in my trusty little manual, but ... I still think these might be porky tracks.

There were four dogs with me, and the one that loves to run actually listened to me when I told her (she was the only one who appeared to notice the porky) not to chase the porcupine. Maybe she remembers the time I had to pull quills out of her nose.

***

Does anyone here watch Californication? The other night the Duchovny character shit on the hood of his ex-wife's fiancé's car. Okay, I'm down with that (meaning, not that I endorse it, but it didn't kill me that someone in a tv show did it). But they actually showed the turd as he was dropping it! That was more than I could take; I was gagging and had to look away. Today I gagged violently while telling Everett about it. He thinks my discomfort is hilarious, laughed heartily and said, "That show really goes all the way, doesn't it?"

It goes too far for my liking. In the same episode they showed the guy throwing up. At length. Like, I don't need that, series director. Damn near threw up, myself, when he did it; I do not need to see people horking on TV, particularly when they show the actual spewage. For a long time. More than once. Blech.

Still Here

You'll be starting to wonder whether we've dropped off the face of the earth.
Nope. The snow's been melting for the past couple days, but the house hasn't floated over the edge. Yet.
The sump pump in the basement hasn't started running every 20 minutes, as it did until Christmas.
And the fridge is clean.
Thanks Everett!

Not much to tell. Been watching and listening to the media coverage of the hell that is Japan right now, and Libya. Made my donation online to the Red Cross. Now just to keep my fingers crossed, because although I often send up prayers out of some sort of instinct (or maybe it's early childhood training), I have no faith in them making a damn bit of difference, whatsoever.

I've been working here in the office, and going for walks in the fine weather, and that's about it. Just the usual putzing, otherwise. Last week I picked up those S-hooks I mentioned and Everett got up on a stepladder and hung a large chime from the eavestrough in front of the picture window. For the previous week about four birds a day had been slamming into that window and flying off, wobbily, to a nearby oak branch. Since the chime went up, there hasn't been one crash. Maybe this chime will continue to do the trick where all else has failed.

One afternoon a half-dozen redpolls were perched on it, right near the window, peering in. Bonus!

Snow is removed from the roof above our bedroom

I was sitting alone in the Good Luck Diner one afternoon and looking out the window saw the head of a man getting out of his vehicle and thought “Dad!” and my heart gave a happy little leap till I remembered he’s in BC.

Yesterday we had a blue sky and glittering snow, today the sky is grey and the air is mild and still. My walks were glorious. I saw a porcupine yesterday, and a white-tailed deer today; both at some distance, but I was thrilled like a little kid anyway. You'd think I never see these creatures or something, but the truth is that the deer are plentiful. I hear they're digging into the farm's hay-bale supply lately; let's hope spring comes soon.

Patiently waiting for spring

Watch the video on Schmutzie's webpage today. It's a talk by a brain scientist who had a stroke. Fascinating.