New Tarot Page on Facebook

How are you at keeping up your chosen routines?
I don't mean the easy ones, like drinking a cup of hot coffee every morning. I mean the ones that are easy to forget, like (in my case) drawing and reading a tarot card every day and posting the interpretation on my TAROT PAGE here on the blog.
My intentions are good and I stick to my routines for a while, sometimes for weeks or even months, but then as soon as my routine gets interrupted by some small thing, I just forget, plain and simple, to pick it up again.

So I thought maybe if I hung out my shingle on Facebook it would be a better motivator for me, and I set up a page there.

If you use FB and also have an interest in the tarot, click below to find the page:

Non-Traditional Tarot

Please "like" and "share."

Charleston

Life in Squares is a TV series being broadcast on BBC, but it hasn't aired in Canada yet. I'm looking forward to it; it's about the Bloomsbury Group, among whose members were Virginia Woolf and her sister Vanessa Bell.

Bell was a painter and she decorated the house she lived in, Charleston. Time has been doing its ruinous work, though, and so there is a fundraising effort being made to conserve the art.

Placement

Other folks may do it differently, but I do it the way that works best for me.
Some people put all their favourite photos and paintings in the living room or some place that visitors will be sure to see them.
Me, I put my favourite stuff somewhere that I will see it as often as possible.

In the bedroom, there's a small quilted tablecloth Mom made, and a set of quilted place-mats, and a framed needlepoint Aunt Reta made and gave me. I like to see all three of these every morning while I'm dressing and every time I walk into the room.

If you've been reading here for any length of time, you've already seen most of these. Probably more than once.

In the hallway between the bedroom and the office is a collection of family photos. Sometimes, seeing pictures of those who have passed away, I get heart pangs. This happens often. But I'd still rather be reminded than not. (I still miss my mother something terrible at times. You would think that this grief would be processed and no longer upsetting, but that is not the case even after 10 years. Anyway I'm sure it's normal. Right? It's not as if it keeps me awake at night or anything. It's just that the intensity of the impact — even now, occasionally — surprises me.)

An unwelcome thought is that someday, if nature takes its course, it won't just be Mom I'm missing when I see this photograph.

In the office is Mom's first palette painting; I love this one, as it really does look like poplar trees with a breeze rustling them.

And there is one of my sister Joan's early pastels, with colours that I adore. They appear a bit washed-out here, unfortunately.

And in the living room is a new one that Aunt Reta brought with her from Saskatoon. Her (and Mom's) cousin Judy is moving from her house into a condo and no longer has a place for this, and apparently neither do her children or nieces or nephews, because it came my way and I was quick to say "I'd love to have this!"

Reta's husband Carl painted it from a photograph of Grandpa Jack, my great-grandfather, who was a telephone linesman well into his seventies. I remember him as a moustached old man, always sitting and with a cane nearby. I think I was about nine when he passed away.

We still have to pick up the "thingies" required so that they lay flat, for the three flowers Joan painted for me. I've got the canvases leaning against the wall and am looking forward to getting them up; they're going to pull the room together beautifully and brighten every day.

Tires

Scott knows there is nothing I like better than a country drive on a Sunday afternoon, so he invited me to ride along when he and his brother were hauling used tires to Kelvington to be collected for recycling.

I stuffed my camera, cellphone and a book into a bag and hopped into the truck with Scott. He had the back of his half-ton loaded up, plus a trailer behind.


We waited at a corner for his brother Bruce, who was also hauling a trailer full, and followed him.

The boys unloaded tires and placed them in the correct "lines" while I entertained myself by texting a few friends and taking pictures rather than getting dirty. Besides, I hadn't taken any gloves along.

 I'd just opened my book (A BEAUTY, by Connie Gault) to start reading when Scott got into the truck and away we went home again.

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Check out today's TAROT DRAW.

Cat Stalks Deer

Charlene Wirtz writes for the Wadena News and gave us this video she shot at her farm home, where her house cat was seen stalking a deer:

Both Sides

In the fall, a book of interviews with JONI MITCHELL was published by her friend, singer, musician and journalist Malka Marom. My former husband Gord said "Don't run out and buy it! I'm getting it for you for Christmas."

Last month at Lincoln University in England, there was a symposium held for those studying Mitchell's music.
If you're an admirer of Joni's artistry, as I most definitely am, you may enjoy this exchange with the charming Ms Marom:



Thanks to Alex, who, although trying to comment on the blog was such a pain in the ass that he gave up and sent me an email, pointed out that I had located Lincoln University in the wrong city. 

Way Back to Perfect Health

Some of you may remember my friend Bev, who was diagnosed with breast cancer, didn't take the recommended allopathic treatments but followed the beat of a different drummer against all advice to the contrary, and is now cancer-free.

She's been in town this week and came out for a visit last night. 

Bev takes a call from her brother while I make myself a grilled cheese sandwich for supper.

I'm not always on the ball enough to remember to get out the camera. Did I post a pic when Dad was here? Oh yeah, I think so. Good for me! Alison was out for tea last week and I didn't think of taking a picture. Yesterday I went for lunch with another Bev and forgot to get a photo. Sandy was out one day with her hubby and the camera was the furthest thing from my mind. I met up with my sister Karen at a flea market and got pics but never posted them. When I think about how much goes on ... and all the people and things ... that are never even mentioned on this blog ... tsk tsk tsk. It is what it is, of course, but there is a lot of life going on outside of it.

Now to find the webpage where Bev chronicled her successful alternative treatment of cancer. We need to update it; there must be people who are surely wondering if she's still healthy.

Here it is: HERE'S TO ... PERFECT HEALTH!

Good Friends Among the Best Things in Life

A lovely afternoon with Ms Bell, who had flown to Regina to attend a Nitty Gritty Dirt Band concert in Raymore, Sask., with a girlfriend and then drove out here to spend the afternoon with me yesterday. We had a leisurely lunch and then when Aunt Reta went for a nap, Cathy and I took a nice long walk in the hot sun and much-appreciated wind.

Isn't she a doll? And then there's me; I make all my pals look good. Of course, Cathy is a young chick compared to me. We were roommates at Luther College when she was in Grade 8 and I was in Grade 10. She is the most professionally accomplished person I know and very hardworking, and also has her life priorities straight and is kindhearted and a straight-shooter. I count myself fortunate to have the most wonderful friends, caring and true. 

That crooked tooth of mine seems to be getting worse. Is it worth doing anything about it, I wonder, at my age?

When I was in my early thirties, a dentist told me I should have my upper wisdom teeth pulled because there was so little space in my mouth that they were already crooked and would push my teeth out of alignment. I ignored his advice and now regret it. (As the founding editor, former editor-in-chief, and my employer at the Canadian Encyclopedia for 10 years once said, what is the sense of asking for input from an expert and then ignoring it? Live and learn.)

 I did have the wisdom teeth pulled within the past couple years but it doesn't make any difference now, as at my age (56) the teeth are firmly set in bone and will not be likely to move on their own even when given more space.  I would probably have to get braces and wear them for at least a year. Do I care enough about straight teeth to do that? Not just the expense of it, but the discomfort. I don't think so. But I can't say as I'm pleased when I see photos of myself with the crooked tooth. Not that I ever have liked photos of myself, so let's be realistic; it doesn't really matter what I do or don't do. I'll be self-critical anyway, as women often are.

Aunt Reta dropped me off at work this morning and went to my Aunt Shirley's at Margo to spend a few days. I just called her to say I've gotten used to her presence and now I miss her. It's true.

And here's Joni Mitchell's video and song "Good Friends." Sometimes change comes at you like a broadside accident. There is chaos to the order; random things you can't prevent. Michael McDonald's voice (he's joined her in this endeavour) makes me lustful. No nerves of steel, no hearts of gold. No blame for what we can and can't control. It doesn't take much, mind you. Watching two people kiss on television will do it! And that's a good thing as far as I'm concerned.

Visiting Galore

 Businesses are open this morning after the long weekend so Scott has pumped up the tire and Reta and I are off to town. I'll drop her at the seniors' residence to do some visiting while I take the tire to the repair shop. Once the car's road-ready again we'll scurry home, where I'll be making my MEXICAN SOUP and waiting for Cathy B to arrive in time for lunch.

But at the moment, Reta is washing breakfast dishes and I'm about to pour my second cup of coffee. Rain has been forecast for two or three days but none has materialized, so I've set the sprinkler on the flower garden for now, till we leave for town.

Aunt Reta prepares to take some pictures to take home to Phoenix.

Ducky has found a new cuddler.

The handles for the kitchen cabinets are supposed to be delivered to Wynyard at the end of the week. We're looking forward to getting those on. The tabs Scott made with masking tape tend to tear off and he insists it has something to do with the way I pull on them. I think if he opened those doors and drawers as many times in a day as I do, they'd rip off for him, too, so Back Off! I say, and carry on my merry way.

Half Gone

Emil will go back to town tonight; Reta will be on her way to her next family visit as soon as that flat tire is repaired; Bev S. is coming for tea this afternoon, as she's been out for a niece's wedding; Cathy B. and her friend Susan are coming for lunch tomorrow, driving out from Regina; and I go back to work on Wednesday.

Summer is half over but still beautiful. There have been crazy storms and there are more to come but aside from wind and rain knocking down some of my tall flowers and hail tearing up a few blossoms, our yard and crops have been untouched for the most part.

An unexpected calf was born in the pasture yesterday; Scott can't figure out how the bull managed to get to its mother, as they were in separate fields at the time the calf would have been conceived. I guess they find a way! Fences never stop cattle if they want to go somewhere, I'm told, and this calf is proof of it.

Sloths

A flat tire on my car Little Green and no place open before Tuesday to repair it, an unwillingness to go anywhere without a usable spare, Scott needing the tools in his work truck when he's on a job or in the field, and the new truck being difficult to get in and out of for both Reta and Emil because it's so high: all have conspired to keep us home for the last two days. But since we have nowhere pressing to go, no one is complaining.

Busy Visiting

Lazy days of chatting with Aunt Reta ...

Still at war with the little flies ...

Stay tuned ... .

Broadway Café

I hadn't seen Cathy's eldest daughter Caitlin, except for photos on Facebook, for several years. So while I was in the city, getting a close-up glimpse of her was my one request when asked if there was anything in particular I'd like to do. She waits on tables at the ever popular Broadway Café, so Cathy and I went in, split a plate of fries and gravy, and waited till Cait managed to join us for a few minutes when there was a slow-down in the action.

Cait, hard at work

Cathy and Caitlin

It's good to see our kids all grown up and smiling.

Tree Swallows

"Are you up, Kathy?" he calls from near the picture window where he sits in the mornings with his coffee and his laptop, perusing the farm machinery, truck, and vintage-car ads on Kijiji. From his corner on the couch he has a good view of the yard and sees quite a lot of activity: sometimes a rabbit, sometimes the prairie chicken, sometimes a deer; the timid beasts are brave in the early hours. "Come and see these birds!"

So out I go to the living room and join him to watch at least four or five dozen TREE SWALLOWS swooping through the air and reconnoitring at the tops of our tall spruce trees. It's quite a show, as these fancy flyers are catching insects on the wing for their breakfast.

They've also been smacking into the windows the last few days, since I washed the insides. The outsides are still dirty as I haven't found a ladder or a long-handled squeegee (nor have I poked around the quonset looking for these things; it's hot in there during the day, which is when I think of it), and I'm reluctant to clean the windows properly for fear of even more collisions. So far they hit the glass and manage to fly off; I haven't found a dead or injured bird on the grass yet this summer. Knock on wood.

Most years we have had an abundance of tree swallows only right before a big rainstorm. This year they've obviously moved in around our yard so we see them more often, and they are very welcome.

I'm out walking, and the driver of this truck is probably a farmer coming home for supper.

Just Breathe

A lot of people consider Facebook a time-waster, and they are absolutely correct. It is, just like television. So are a lot of movies, and so is most commercial radio with all its repetition and advertising, and so is Twitter.

That is, if you let them waste your time. You don't have to, you know. You are in control. You can limit the amount of time you spend on these social media sites, and I'd advise it: setting a timer and changing your focus when the buzzer goes. It's all too easy to think you've spent 15 minutes there and discover you've just lost an entire hour. That's the way it is with any kind of reading, don't you find?

You can also switch off your television, find a channel without advertising cutting in every five minutes, or read during the commercials. You don't have to watch a movie till the end, just because you gave it 15 minutes of your attention to start with. Turn it off and move on.

You can listen to podcasts and recorded music; you can turn to a public radio station that doesn't advertise but offers fascinating, informative programming. There are a million ways around the time-wasting aspects of these things we do to find out what's going on with our friends and in the world.

On Facebook, I've very little interest in people's political statements, or in puppies, kittens and cute children, or in the inspirational quotes, the recipes, and so on. Most of it has already been seen 15 times, or if I am interested in a subject I can easily search it out myself online; I don't need Facebook to bring it to my attention. And that's the main reason I scroll on by a lot of what is posted in people's FB feeds. For me, a lot of that stuff is a time-waster. What interests me is what my friends and acquaintances are up to, and photos of them and their families.

Very rarely — but it does happen — there is a message that is a perfect reminder of something important to me.

Travel Time

Washing sheets, remaking beds, taking a bath, packing for two nights away, hoping there is no stormy weather between here and Saskatoon before I'm home again on Thursday afternoon.

The huge tornado that went through southern Manitoba last night did so without hurting anyone, but I guess it was quite the thing, about a kilometre wide and lasting for hours.

We did have lightning, thunder and rain during the night, and a phone call has just informed me that one of the three group homes was struck by lightning in the wee hours and there was a fire. I've seen a photo on Facebook and it wasn't the house that Emil lives in. As my aunt Shirley says, had it been, Emil would have had something to talk about for a long time.

Well, I had best get back at my preparations. They always take longer than I expect and I want to be out the door in a couple hours so I'm not too late arriving at Cathy's.

Under the three oaks

Grey Sky Day

Cool rainy days are my favourites now. Not windy cold miserable ones, but the calm ones with a gentle rainfall, the kind that don't turn your house into a cooker if you use the oven. The ones that let you keep your windows open, and you can walk around outside without feeling like passing out from the heat and humidity.

There are serious storm warnings for parts of the province slightly south of us, but so far here it's been a perfect day. I've spent it baking bread and muffins and granola; fast food for a week or three if it gets hot again. Except that I'm getting company and will have to feed her a decent meal once in a while, won't I?

After today's hard labour, it's six o'clock and I'm about to pour myself a glass of red wine and go outside to admire the flowers and let the birds admire me. Maybe my fella will be home soon and keep me company.

What Day Is It, Again? During Holidays, I Lose Track

In less than a week it will be time to put together my monthly newsletter. (If you haven't yet signed up to receive these five fabulous factoids, what are you waiting for? See the link above.)

For the first newsletter, I picked through my notebooks and easily found tidbits I hadn't included in the blog. But in recent weeks I haven't been writing in the notebooks, having recently filled one, looked at the stacks on my dresser in the bedroom, and thought maybe I will stop adding to them. It wouldn't be the end of the world, now would it?

Perennial yellow daisies are compact, long-lasting and don't spread like crazy.

Scott came in from the field late this morning when I was outside in my pyjamas, pulling weeds from the flowerbed. I watched him go into the house and thought I'd finish what I was doing and go inside to see how his day'd been going and what else he had planned. After 5 minutes or so I stood up, turned around, and got a jolt — as you do when you see something unexpected. Or at least, I do. There he was, standing a few feet behind me, munching on a meatloaf sandwich and looking ever so pleased with himself for sneaking up on me.

Aunt Reta flies into Saskatoon today, woo hoo! I'll drive into the city to spend a couple days with Cathy and then bring Reta home with me. I don't find Reta and Mom to be very alike, but it's still the next best thing to actually getting a visit from Mom.

Bra Free

Bountifully bosomed broads wear bras less for support than to avoid unwanted attention.
One of the best parts of being home on holidays is leaving the girls free and unencumbered.

And no, there's no photo to illustrate.

The dragonflies were on the move so they are just a blur, but here's an idea how many there are!

Oh, and Everett has SOMETHING NEW on his page.

Where Emil Lives

Emil doesn't come out here every weekend. For instance, tonight he has decided to stay in town at the group home. He'll come here next weekend or go to Everett's place; I can never keep track of his plans, really, though he probably has some sort of rotational pattern in mind.

He often asks me, though, "Do you miss me when I don't come to your house on the weekend?"

I tell him I don't miss him because he lives so close by and I can see him anytime I like, and how fortunate I feel to have him and his brother both living nearby so we can get together often.

I may never understand why he'd rather stay at the group home on the weekend than come out here, but I sure don't mind. The only time I do get a little jolt of "missing" him is when he's been here for a couple days, I've driven him back to town Sunday evening, and I wake up the following morning and remember he's not in the house. It's a fleeting moment of empty nest syndrome all over again.

The group home's main floor has one kitchen and dining room, two bathrooms, two living rooms, a bedroom suite for the house supervisor, and six bedrooms for the residents. Whenever you come or go, the residents are at the door to welcome you or see you off.

This is Sherry with a big smile and a whole bunch of sweetness: