Rosebud Hall

This little country hall is one mile from our place, as the crow flies.

It was built in 1937 or so, but is still in use for community events.

We attended a wedding there last month.

When the DJ started playing Nazareth's version of "This Flight Tonight," my dance partner made some remark about the song and I said "Joni wrote it." He thought I was kidding. 

I thought, You've Been My Sweetie for 14 Years and You Think I Am Kidding?! 

I said, Damn Right. 

He gave me that look. You know, the one that means he thinks I am deluded. But dammit, he wouldn't bet me any cash! I proved it the next morning and couldabin 50 bucks richer.

And here's Nazareth:

On the Lake with Karen

And what a lovely afternoon it was!
I found Karen in her kitchen, with a plate of cut saskatoon/raspberry squares (three pieces = lunch) on the counter. We had a cup of coffee and watched pelicans out on the water, then decided to head out in Karen's paddleboat.
I had never been in one and was actually in the thing and being pushed away from shore before I remembered: I do not go into deep water without a lifejacket!
Karen, super swimmer that she is, laughed at me when I got out of the boat and walked back up to the house to find safety gear. But I do NOT fool around when it comes to water. I have a horror of drowning. I don't any better like the idea of watching someone else drown, either, but Karen was having none of that lifejacket business. (But Karen, you have so much to live for! And accidents happen!)
We "bicycled" around Margo Lake for an hour or two, chatting, watching the birds on the water, admiring the private beaches where, were I 30 years younger, I'd've been silly enough to sunbathe and soak up those old cancer rays naked.
Unfortunately my little point-and-shoot camera couldn't zoom in close enough to get a great shot of the pelicans, those humongous, splendid creatures!

OOGLY SEESES

It only took me five years to make use of the three-way calling option on my SaskTel phone.
I had to call SaskTel and ask how to use it. Oy!
Fortunately it's very simple, and so at 9 a.m. I dialed both my beautiful ugly sisters, one in BC and one at Margo, and had a nice chat.
Must make a habit of it.

Speedwells

No Once and For All

My plates and glasses and bowls and coffee cups were all purchased at garage sales. Nothing matched, and that's the way I liked it. There was variety.

But someday, I thought, someday I am going to find a set of dishes that I fall in love with, and I'll buy them.

I never did fall in love with a set of dishes. At least, not love at first sight.

Instead my mother and sisters gifted me over the years with dishes from Princess House, which I thought so ridiculously expensive that I wouldn't buy them myself. For example, a set of four highball glasses is $50, and shipping them would add another $15 to the bill. Who can afford that? Hmph. I mean, why would you when you could spend 50 cents at a garage sale and take home half a dozen?

However, I ended up with a bit of a collection since my sister Karen was a rep for PH and when there were good sales, I'd look at the catalogues and purchase a set of crystal wine glasses or coffee mugs or something.

When Mom was living with terminal cancer in 2004/5 and I moved with my boys to Kelowna to be with her, we rented a suite that came complete with dishes. However, the first time I poured white wine into the glass provided by the rental kitchen, I was shocked at the difference in quality and esthetics between your everyday wine glass and the crystal goblets I had left back at home. This thing I was drinking out of was no beautiful object; it was functional, but not beautiful, and back home I had grown accustomed to holding something beautiful in my hand.

I had been spoiled.

When I turned 50 my sisters gave me a whack of money to spend, and I used it to purchase two or three sets of matching plates, side dishes, serving bowls and plates, casseroles and so on. Everything I could possibly want and was ordinarily too cheap to buy, I could now afford, and so I did.

Once at a garage sale I picked up and brought home a ceramic cereal bowl that appealed to me. But when I set it in the kitchen cupboard alongside my PH cereal bowls, it looked shabby and ugly in comparison. I gave it to the dog.

We've lived in this house here at Golden Grain Farm for about five years without livingroom or kitchen curtains. They're not really needed when no one can see in your windows, so there was no rush, but I figured someday I'd shop for curtains I really, really liked and then I'd buy them. I watched the Sears catalogues that came out, but never went to the city to look; I don't enjoy shopping and don't do it unless I need to.

And then this winter I thought, if I wait till I make a trip to the city look for curtains I can fall in love with, we will never have any. And you know what, Kathy? I said to myself. It's not brain surgery I'm doing here; mediocre curtains can be replaced. I can hang any old set of curtains up on that picture window and, if one day I come across a pair I love, I can buy them and pass along the old ones. Meanwhile we'll have curtains to close if we want to watch TV in the afternoon or keep the cold out in the winter, and the living room will feel cosy and complete.

I ordered some from the catalogue. They still aren't hung, nor are the rods I ordered to hang them on. But they're here.

Don't wait and wait and wait for that "someday" in order to find that perfect thing. As we all know, that someday may never come.

If you are happy with your eclectic collection of kitchenware, that's okay too. I've been there. It's just that I have inadvertently, without intending to, fallen in love with my Princess House dishes. They are actually a pleasure to wash, dry, and put away, because they are, to my mind, somewhat lovely (as dishes go).

Maybe I'll fall in love with these curtains, if they ever get hung.

It's the same with jewelry. I can rarely find anything fabulous enough to buy, and don't get excited when jewelry is given to me, but after wearing it for a while become quite enamoured of it.

There may be no point to this entry, but I won't wait till it has a perfectly good reason for being. It probably never will. You can have it right now.

Driver

Some of the most blissful times for me are drives out to the field.

 I may go along with Scott when he goes to check crops, or maybe I'll take him out there and leave him with a piece of machinery that he will drive home later (as in the photo below), but either way, the trips to and fro are happy times. I may be bumping slowly over a rough dirt road at low speed or absentmindedly listening to my farmer remark upon the state of affairs — it's soon time to do this or that, depending on what level of development the plants are at — but I know I'm living the good, good, good life when I'm out there.

What I do at my job

I asked Lorna what she would like to see more of, here.
Her reply: "I haven't quite figured out what you do at your job." Something like that.
I have been thinking, How would I describe my job?

It's been a learning experience.
Not that I haven't worked for newspapers before, but it was in a different capacity, and Wadena News is one of a kind.

It's been around since 1908 and has a readership that spans generations of families.
People move away and still subscribe to it so they can keep up with folks back home. We mail all over the country as well as to 21 communities locally.
Some people drive into town on Mondays just because that's the day the paper will be in the mail.

My job is to relieve the owner and publisher of some of her editing and layout duties so she can concentrate on other essential areas.

I soon offered to manage the Opinions page, where we print commentaries and letters to the editor, and the This and That column, which is a hodgepodge of items too last-minute or too short for an article but of some interest.

Then, I read. And read. And read.

I'm an incorrigible proofreader. If I notice a typo or error, I can't help myself: I have to fix it. I read every article and column that goes in, and everything else there is time to read before the paper goes to press on Friday. I write captions for photos, headlines for articles, and subheads for columns and correspondent news.

Scott parks in the shade of the maple tree when home during the heat of the day.

Then I read. And read. And read. That's what editors do, tightening and polishing as they go, trying not to be too heavy-handed even when they're dying to rewrite something completely. Editors are improvers, clarifyers, and nitpickers.

Coming from a decade as a subject editor with the Canadian Encyclopedia, my editing skills till now have been geared toward the facts, the facts, and nothing but the facts, with vignettes of colour sneaked in whenever possible. One time I edited a biography of a well-known First Nations actor who wanted it to list the names of his dozen grandchildren and his half-dozen great-grandchildren, of whom he was naturally proud and who, he was right to assume, were important life accomplishments of his own as he and his wife were raising some of them. I had to say sorry, but our bios can't include all that detail beyond what you have accomplished in your career.

Here, however, it is just the opposite. Since everybody knows everybody, and knows everybody else's immediate families and cousins, not to mention everybody else's neighbours, and usually their neighbours' dogs' names, too, we want to put names galore into the articles, and mention who the subject's parents and grandparents are, and where they were all raised.

After 10 months in the e-chair I am still learning how to look at community news, what requires more coverage than other things and why, and how, and so on. When they said you can learn something new every day, I think they may have been talking about those of us who work at newspapers.

Get back on that horse, giddyup, giddyup

And it's back to the morning scurry for this kid.

Not that I'm complaining. It's good to have a job, and I enjoy the work well enough. But time off is addictive and passes too quickly.

Fortunately, and I remind myself often, most weeks I have more days off than on if you don't count the hours I put in Monday mornings from my home office, putting articles and pictures onto the webpage (Lorna: http://wadenanews.ca). They don't feel like work so I tend to forget about that.

And now, the oatmeal porridge is down and it's time for a quick dip in the tub, and then I must leave poor Ducky Doodle alone in the porch for the day.

Summer Days

8:48a.m.

"You no bring me coffee, me no clean filter basket!"

Maybe Scott is finally getting the message, because he brought me a mug of the black early this morning, before leaving the house. So I’ve been up for an hour, instead of sleeping till 9 or 10.

Holidays, what are they good for! Sleeping in, that's what I say.

Honest to god, I'm a sleeper. I'm a stay-up-late, sleep-till-the-cows-come-home kinda gal, trying to be an early-to-bed, early-to-rise'er and not being very successful. But it's coming. Slowly. 

Emil was here all weekend, and as usual in the morning when I remember he’s not here, I’m a bit disappointed at finding myself alone in the house. If you don't count my doggy shadow, that is. The Duck has been keeping pretty close since we've had days and nights of thunderation mixed in with the heat and sun. Yesterday there was a five-minute shower that I waited out, stood under the eave outside the door. Lots of gorgeous weather to watch from the chairs on the deck, with my evening glass of wine in hand and my neck and ankles slathered up with an essential oil combination meant to repel mosquitoes and ticks.

The only thing better might be having some company out there once in a while.

Scorpion Alert!

Everett likes to go down to the farmers market in town every second Saturday. He is a fan of homemade jams and, apparently, of iron art. This was on the kitchen table yesterday when I dropped Emil off at his house for a couple hours. Its creator said it took him all evening to make one.

Everett is a Scorpio, so this is fitting. Watch out for those pincers.

Vodka and Pink Grapefruit Juice

Yeah, so?

I am on holidays, and it is hot out.

And it's not as if I didn't do anything today. Scott offered me cold cash to sweep up a couple rooms at a construction site, so off I went in my leather sandals and without workgloves. Drywall dust could be wiped off the sandals after, but a blister did start developing on my little finger. Good thing it was done in less than two hours. Thank goodness; I was bored silly anyway, though it was a welcome change from what I've been doing the past week or two.

Damn Dishes

Emil is a repeater. He has heard what you said, and will remember it word for word, and will use it as his own. We all know, from raising children, that it is essential to watch what you say around them because “little pitchers have big ears” and will embarrass you or someone else by saying something that wasn’t meant to be heard outside your own home. Emil, age 26, is like one of those little pitchers.

For instance, one time I hugged Gunnar goodbye and exclaimed, “It’s like hugging a wall!” He is six-foot-four and a big galoot. When they were here, Gunnar and Melissa picked Emil up for lunch one day and he introduced Gunnar to his house supervisor: “This is Gunnar. He’s big, like a wall.”

Another thing about Emil’s particular brain is that if you interrupt him mid-sentence — say, for instance, you want him to clarify a point — he will then start at the first word of the sentence again, and repeat the entire thing verbatim, like a recording. He can’t start in the middle of it, where he left off. It’s the way his brain works; a cerebral palsy thing, I guess.

Everett and I went out for supper last night at a local restaurant and then picked Emil up for the weekend. After we went for an ice cream treat at the local dairy dip, he came home with me. “It’s a long weekend; I get to stay till Monday,” he has said numerous times. He's quite happy about that, apparently, if only because he'll have free range in the kitchen.

Often when he’s here, there are dishes on the counter and he will say something like “We should get those dishes done so it looks nice in here.”

I can’t remember what his exact words are, but they are repeats of something he has heard me say. I am waiting for him to say them today, because maybe he will help me tackle that damn pile of dishes I can’t seem to get to the bottom of!

I said to Scott the other day: Make up your mind what you want for a water treatment system, because it's well past time we got a dishwasher in here.

"We've already got a dishwasher," he retorted, meaning me, "but it makes a lot of noise."

He quite often makes me hoot with laughter, as he's got a uniquely goofy and witty sense of humour, but I might've bitten the inside of my cheek when I grinned at that one: ha ha.

Trees inside the northern block of bush along our driveway are dying, due to flooding. Red-winged blackbirds have moved in. We do live in the middle of a swamp, apparently.

Barrel twins reach destination

to shelly:
subject: finally got my barrell in half

with the bands to hold them together
and the drainage holes in the bottoms
next: as soon as the plywood is under so that they can be mowed around, to make scott happy,
i have a pail of broken concrete to put into each one for help with drainage
then: black dirt into wheelbarrow
and: good to go for next spring, I guess!
there is one on each side of the big perennial bed in the front yard.


to kathy:

For drainage and lightness, I have taken to putting empty cans and plastic bottles in the bottom of pots, less dirt required and depending on the pot.....easier to move about!

Its the long weekend upon us....
Huge thunder lightning and heavy rainfall happened about 2 hrs ago....now's blue skies. Such strange weather.

Found a lake lot I hope to go see this weekend, said its a 5 min walk to the lake (Hanmore) would like to see what that would be all about.....cause I want lake front.



to shelly:

Lakefront:
http://goldengrainfarm.blogspot.ca/p/lake-property-for-sale-in-saskatchewan.html


Yes it's a bit far for a girl from edmonton to travel, but if the price is right ... OK I admit it, I'm dreaming.
The barrell came home with me two years ago from shelly's brother's, and needed some work, but thanks to my scottie i now have two large planters, woo hoo!

The recipe at Stubblejumpers Café today is a homemade tick repellent for pets: CLICK HERE.

A little dab'll do ya

“They say a dab of peanut butter behind your ears will keep mosquitoes from biting,” said Joan, “and the natural p.b., not the stuff with added sugar.”

So yesterday before going out on one of my numerous short (because of the heat) walks, I put a little dab behind each ear. I also slathered my ankles with an essential oil mixture that helps repel those bloodthirsty little bitches.

In spite of the accompanying platoons of dragonflies, I still got a few bites. Sorry, all … there is still no foolproof “natural” guard against mosquitoes.

Later, walking, I remembered the peanut butter and thought “Must remember to wash that off before we go out tonight.”

We had an invitation to join friends for “wing night” at the Hendon pub, and I was looking forward to the outing.

It wasn’t till this morning that I remembered I hadn’t remembered to wash the peanut butter off.

Wonder if anyone happened to notice and think What the hell is that! This woman clearly never scrubs behind her ears!

Broken-stemmed or hidden flowers are brought indoors. These roses, planted in memory of Mom, are in the bathroom.

For today's recipe at Stubblejumpers Café, CLICK HERE --> Everett's Famous Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Who Calls?

My hair appointment is at 10:30, and since I like to have at least two hours in the morning before having to go anywhere, I set the bedside alarm to come on at 8. The alarm, that is, not the radio, because I will just listen to the radio and doze off again, whereas the alarm beeping will annoy me enough to sit up and turn it off.

As I set the alarm, I think to myself, “I would like to wake up on my own, shortly before the alarm goes, so I won’t be jarred out of sleep by it.”

And donchaknow, at about 10 to eight I’m awakened by a male voice calling, “Kathy!”

It is an unfamiliar voice, but real enough that I put on my housecoat and go to the door, then through it, to see if anyone is there.

All I find are the busy birds, and the old dog, Jenna, who stirs from her rest when she hears my footstep in the porch.

Rhubarb Slushies

And oh what a fine afternoon it was, out on Karen's deck.

Neither too hot, nor too cold. 

Just right.

I handed the camera to Joan's daughter Jordan, so for a change I'm in front of the camera. 

Reta, I'm wearing a pair of those sunglasses Carl sent. Karen gets the same migraine things, so she might as well see if these help any. There were two pairs in the box so I'll give her one.

Drinkin' on Decks

Morning coffee

And I'm off to spend the day with both my sisters. Joan is out, from Kelowna. No doubt more coffee will be drank! It's rare to get to be with both my little girlies at the same time. The only thing better would be if Mom was there too.

It's a perfect summer day, and Karen lives on the shore of Margo Lake.

More drinkin' on decks, comin' up.

And in Joan's honour and with thanks to her for sharing it, today's recipe at Stubblejumpers Kitchen Collection is Spinach Salad.

Hangin' Out with Shelly

Shelly, one of my Katimavik roomies, on her backyard deck

Oh sure, it looks like all we did was sit around and gab, and drink. And we did do a lot of gabbing. And some drinking, but not overly so. And while we were at Shelly's we also went for numerous walks around Ho Hum Crescent, where she is building her plantation.

Three KCathys Agree

Douglas Catsanova is adored by all.

Cathy R settles into Cathy B's guest room in the basement.

Are these slippers for me? Cathy B thinks of everything. I set my stuff in the other guest room, and leave the slippers be.

Three CKathys Agree: My arms are too short to take selfies.

Aunt Beulah

Beulah Egge Johnson

My great-aunt Beulah is in her nineties and as far as I know has never said an unkind word in her life.
Her daughter Ardyce posted this photo and description to FB:

"Mom had a good day, spent the afternoon relaxing in our backyard, then supper & to really put the icing on the cake... a ride in OJ's Ranchero."

Chez nous, woo hoo!

After lugging bags into the house and watering flowers in pots and the perennial beds, I sat down on the back step for a glass of chilled white wine.

As much as I loved spending time with my dear friends, it is a pleasure to come home and be greeted by colour, scent and beauty.

Not that my friends aren't colourful, beautiful and sweet-scented.

I dropped Emil off in town and met Scott going in as I was coming out. He was picking up parts for a haying machine and hadn't been able to reach me by cellphone when I was still in town. Naturally. I'd run into a store to buy a new comforter for Emil, and left the phone in the car. Apparently I need one built into my ear if I hope to catch all calls.

Dropped and smashed the front of my "toughest smartphone ever" on Saturday morning on the pavement of Cathy's driveway before we left Saskatoon. The battery is no good anyway and getting a replacement has been a hassle so far. Time for a new toy? Rzzzl Frrzzzl Grrrrr. I don't like expensive shit that doesn't last two years.

I have ordered takeout pizza and Greek ribs from a restaurant in town and am looking forward to Scott getting home with it.

Guess I should clean off this table: