Don't You Care How You Look?

Customer buying gladiolas at the Wadena farmers' market

The flower seller, on the left, sold out of glads in less than two hours. And yes, the lady on the right is who you think it is. Senator Wallin's family lives in Wadena so she is often seen at the grocery store and market and various other places around town. She seems like a lovely person, but I think that about most everyone who is pleasant and friendly, and my opinion about her politics and actions is an uneducated one ... like a good many of the opinions we hear. Not knowing all the facts doesn't seem to shut anyone up, unfortunately.

My great-aunt Marj, age 88, has two baking and garden produce tables at the market and her son Allan helps her lug everything in and then serve the hordes of hungry customers who swarm her tables when the doors open at 10. That's Allan on the right:

Joan, that is our former neighbour Hazel Rudishyn bent looking at something; she is a regular customer for my caramel corn.

When they were leaving after the Saturday market, he told me that his mother was taking him out for a meal and I teased him that he was spoiled. "I can't help it if she's good to me!" he said with a big smile.

This week was another hot one and I went along with Scott to a job site a couple times to do what I could do. I am nervous on a ladder so am not much good for half the work; I do a lot of cleanup (Scott likes a spotless work area) and fetching ("What do you mean, a -blank-?" I don't know what all the tools are called). It has been a strong reminder that a good carpenter is no dummy. The fractions! the figuring! the troubleshooting! I'm all in awe, watching him puzzle out the proper handling of some small detail that, although the average observer like myself isn't even aware of it, if not done right it will create a costly mess down the line.

One day I closely observed him making aluminum cladding for windows, as it's something I could learn to do; he didn't let me get my square little hands on the tinsnips though:

I did pound some nails into styrofoam sheating, and he chuckled and said I "hammer like a girl."

Apparently he does still think I'm a girly-girl (and let's be honest, twice this week I've jumped and screamed and clasped my hands to my breast when he appeared in a doorway and I was expecting either Everett or no one, so no wonder)(does that happen to anyone else?), because when we got home I had to go to town to pick up Everett and a few groceries, and I headed for the car without changing — wearing a man's white cotton shirt and baggy faded blue jeans held up by a belt with notches added so it cinches tight enough to keep my pants up; they were hand-me-downs from a slightly larger gal to start with, and I've gotten thinner since then — I have been saving old wornout favourites for years so if ever needed I would have work clothes to wear, and finally I get to wear them! — and he says, "You're going like that? Don't you care how you look?"

Uh, no, I don't. I've been working outside, and I'm going to town looking like I've been working outside. Is that a problem? (Scott usually "cleans up" before going to town, but then he's often been working with cattle; I'd likely wash and change then, too.) I was surprised by the questions, because he should know by now ... that I wash, and brush my teeth, and that's about it. I might wet down my sticky-up hair when I get up in the morning, but there will be no curling or blow-drying or time spent fussing. Been there, done that, wasted a hell of a lot of time when I was a young woman. I haven't put makeup on my face for at least 10 years and now wonder why I ever bothered. I think it was a way of paying myself a couple minutes of attention, which my body appreciated. Now I do that by applying coconut oil or a natural face mist on my way out of the bathroom, and my body is just as happy.

In actual news this week, my friend Bev, who was diagnosed with breast cancer this spring and chose to treat it without surgery, chemotherapy, or radiation, has posted the results of her pet scan:

http://waybacktoperfecthealth.blogspot.ca/

Fall Has Arrived in Saskatchewan

The crops they are a-turnin' colour. Soon everything will be golden.

I'm on the run these days, and tired when I'm not. So you find me in bed by 9:30 most nights, and not wanting very much to get up at 6 a.m.

It's all I can do to find time to water and deadhead the flowers that are in pots. Or to find energy to go for a walk.

I thought time only flew when you're having fun! I'm not having any. But life is good anyway.

Everett hit the rhubarb yesterday morning as he drove into town to work, with me in the passenger's seat. He's only got his learner's licence and I should've made him drive slower. For a few moments there, I was sure the car was going to roll. The boy stayed calm though, and good for him.

Anyway, gotta go as soon as Scott is off the phone. Another day in the sun and wind. The leaves have started falling from the maple trees.

Manitou Beach

Campers being dropped off in front of the main building

Usually when I take Emil to Camp Easter Seal, there is a long, slow (because Emil is not speedy on his crutches) walk to his assigned cabin, lugging his baggage and bedding. Then there is the long, slow walk back to the dining area, where the campers are gathering for lunch and saying goodbye to their parents. Emil likes me to meet the three or four counsellors who are assigned to his cabin, and then gradually he is ready to let me leave.

Not this time, though. The luggage was loaded onto a wheeled cart, the counsellors introduced themselves, I went into the office to sign a waiver so that Emil could go tubing if he wanted, and a few minutes later when I joined them again in front of the dining room, I was dismissed.

"You can go now, Mom," he said. "I want you to go."

And so I collected a kiss goodbye and danced off to the Village Perk, where I always stop when in Manitou Beach, in hopes that the cook will have his excellent pecan pie on hand. Again he did not, and I kicked myself for not calling ahead and begging him to make it. That pie is worth 10 phone calls!

Instead I had a bowl of cream of broccoli soup (no crackers required) and hot cheese biscuits (you don't need butter when they melt in your mouth). That man can cook, I tell you. If I lived there I would gain back the 15 pounds I've lost over the past year or two.

They brew a mean cup of joe at the Village Perk, too. 

Worker Bees

Today could be considered a day of rest, since I only had to be in town by 8 to pick Emil up and drive him to Camp Easter Seal down at Manitou Beach. It's been a long day, but compared to the two previous, it was Easy Street.

Yesterday and the day before were actual work days. I went with the boys to Kelvington to be the jill-of-all-trades while they prepared a house for new siding. I pulled out nails and hauled old siding away and stacked it and helped load it up and kept the site tidy and generally did whatever I was asked to do. They were two swelteringly hot days and even though they were short — we came home mid-afternoon so the boys could get out into the field, as it's haying time — I was asleep before 8 the first night, and not much later the next. And was still tired and sore in the morning.

I have a new admiration for the physical stamina of these two guys, who generally put in full days of heavy labour on the job and then come home and do farm work for several more. I'm not sure I'd survive.  I don't know how they do it.

August in Saskatchewan

Emil gets some exercise outside on the weekend.

Why does the distance from our driveway to the correction line (where the signs are) look so short in photos? It's three-quarters of a mile, and here it looks like no more than a hop, skip and jump.

When it's not too windy, half the time I head north, the other direction:

The canola field is still in bloom and if we get more heat, maybe the wheat and oats will start turning colour.

No walking for me today, though; I've been on the run. Went and purchased a car from a family friend so that I can get #2Son to work for the next while, till he gets a driver's licence or finds a place in town to live.

He had to go up on a roof today. Scary, he said. "I'm like a kitten caught in a tree: 'Oh my god, how do I get down from here?'" To which I can relate; I'm impressed he went up there at all.

And saws; there is sawing to be done. He is nervous about saws, and I don't blame him. "You should be!" I said, "Until you are taught how to use them."

Everett Gets His First Real Job

After his interview with the potential employer, he is to meet me at the local grocery store. I'm standing in the lineup at the cashout when I sense a large presence right behind me, a little too close to be the usual other shopper, and sure enough it's my grown boy.
"Well?" I turn and ask.
"I start at 8 tomorrow morning."
He is pleased. I can tell because there is just the faintest glimmer of a suppressed grin on his face; only a mother would know it is there.
"What do you think of LL?" I ask. That's the new boss.
"When he showed me around, he straightened up things on a shelf. He's the first person I've met who is as anal as me."

There are about five employees on the job and they go hard all day long, and it is physical labour, stacking lumber and so on. Everett is exhausted when he gets home, but he wants to go back the next day and there is plenty of variety in activity and he is working with other young men and this will do him a world of good. He shows me, with pride, bruises on his forearms from something he's been doing. His feet are sore at the end of the day. His first paycheque will be a revelation to him.

He has no drivers' licence and doesn't want to get one, or to own a car. We will try to change this, but in the meantime we drive him into town in the morning and pick him up at the end of the day. If the job is still a go by the end of the month -- fingers crossed that both he and LL will be happy with the arrangement -- he will need a place to stay in town.  If you are a local reader and hear of any vacancies, let me know.

Women and Elephants

Everett thought it quite surprising when, after he'd spotted a mouse in the porch and the two of us had spent an hour moving stuff outside and cleaning, I dragged (with his help) both my trunks from against a wall, spotted the rodent cowering in the space behind, shrieked and bolted for the door.

"So it's true then," he said, sounding shocked. "Women really are like elephants when it comes to mice."

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There was a thunderstorm yesterday afternoon that, during one of his many trips between house, van, and quonset as we cleaned, made the hair on Everett's arms stand up. After that we stayed indoors till it was over.

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Had trouble sleeping last night and thought, around 2 a.m., that maybe a change of location would help. So I took my pillow, laid a wool blanket and one of Mom's quilts on top of myself on the couch in the living room, and was asleep in no time. Only turned over once, as opposed to the continual flipping in bed. Don't know why it is, as our bed is perfectly comfy, but this isn't the first time the couch has been the answer to my infrequent insomnia.

Weekends are a Different Story

New bull (far left) and girlfriends eyeball the dogs

New bull leads the herd of heifers

You can say Saskatchewan has no hills, but I know better.

Rest stop on last night's walk

The new routine is only for weekdays. On weekends I shall follow my nose to my heart's content and try to catch up on my online activities.

We've got a hot sunny day out there and I intend to bask.

Also, the darjeeling tea is apparently not to blame for Thursday night's insomnia. Last night was no different. I know I was still awake at 3 because that's when I felt hungry. It's always been that way, since my party-till-dawn days. If it's 3 a.m., I'm hungry. If I find myself cold, sure enough it's 5 a.m. Didn't make it quite that far this time so am more rested today.

Scott has just come in from doing something with cattle and I am not sure I can believe my ears, but I think I heard him say something about taking the rest of the day off to do absolutely nothing, or maybe go somewhere. What????!!!!

He is also wondering if I should go to the doctor again, as I still have a nasty cough. I think it will pass; just gotta be patient. The post-nasal drip after a head cold can last a while. But he will nag me if it becomes necessary; I can count on that.

Yesterday I sat in the van as a young fella put gas in the tank, and a friend walked up and, looking concerned, exclaimed, "You have gotten awfully thin!" I have lost a few pounds in recent months, just from cutting back on bread and toast, I think. And a few pounds either way always shows, on me. When I got home I texted Karen (sister): "I'm not TOO thin, am I?" She assures me I look perfectly healthy. My favourite pair of blue pedal-pushers (showing my age here, aren't I?) are hanging off me, though, which is disappointing.  The one drawback to being skinnyish.

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Maybe you'd like to check out my uncle's new blog? Random Thoughts from a Rocking Chair.  And do leave him a comment if you do; all new bloggers need encouragement to continue. He is posting a bit of everyday stuff along with excerpts from the first draft of his memoir. This way he can post what he likes, while I cut and slash ruthlessly from the original and hope he will still be speaking to me when all is said and done. Editing: a dirty job but somebody has to do it.

New Routine

Prepping BC strawberries to freeze for smoothies

Two days down and I'm back up again. Still not full of piss 'n' vinegar but not feeling like crap either. Whew! Glad that's over. Managed to make a delicious Mexican soup for supper, do some laundry, some weeding, and go to town for groceries (and Emil) and to buy out the BC fruit truck. I've yet to get out for my walk this evening, and try to put an hour in on my uncle's manuscript, but it will be an early night because ding!ding!ding! never drink a cup of darjeeling tea from India after supper, Kathy! I laid awake till 5 this morning. Shoulda known better.

We had company last night, Scott's cousin John and his wife Helen (see her blog, Pengelly Pastimes) with their youngest son Ryan and our niece Rebecca from down the road here. I am hoping they didn't catch my cold, or Scott's ... he was suffering from it last night and this morning but went out early to a cement-pour anyway. I thought for sure he'd be home and back in bed by noon, but it's 7 o'clock now and I haven't seen hide nor hair of him. I don't know how that man keeps going.

Helen recently had a surgery and a cancer scare, and we talked about how that alters your perception of the time you have left and how you want to spend it. I thought about that some as I lay abed wide awake afterward; that and many other things. One of them was about the way time seems to be flying past so quickly and I seem to never be on top of things around here to the degree I would like to be. It's not that I'm fussy about the house or anything, compared to others, but after being down for the count for two days and then having a fairly restful day yesterday, and even with Everett's help with dishes after I made some supper for my sick farmerboy last night, every surface in the kitchen and living room was still covered when they arrived and I couldn't help asking myself, Why is that? Where does the time go?

I decided too much of it is spent at this computer and from now on I'm not even going to check my email till after supper. So this has been Day One of the new routine. Wish me luck. I'm terrible at sticking to routines. Aside from my morning cup of coffee, that is. That's an easy one.

Where Have I Been?

My great-niece Lexi, her mom in mirror

It's been a busy past week, and I was feeling 100% when I went to the hospital on Monday morning, where the doctor's office is, for a physical. But within a half-hour of coming out of the place I was blowing my nose, and by suppertime I knew something unpleasant was taking hold. And so it has been. I've been fevered and congested and runnynosed ever since. Wasted days, how I hate them. Feeling crummy always makes me think the most negative thoughts: how I'm going to be a bag lady in my old age, for instance. Positive expectations simply disappear when I feel like shit.

Today I feel a lot better — no more runny nose, no more fever — but my voice is so deep it's scary. Aunt Shirley, I see you have left a message on my phone. I will call you when I can talk properly! I was in Margo on Monday afternoon to drop off my market wares at Missy's, and after a quick stop at the cemetery I had to go see Michelle and Lexi, and then Karen, so didn't have time to come and see you too. However if Missy's "Market Mondays" continue, I'll be there every week so will see you next time.

Wildcrafting

It's not often that I venture into the bush, as I'm nervous as a deer in unfamiliar places with long grass where anything could be hiding. There are always two dogs with me, so they would alert me to any wild animal nearby, but still ... I was much more confident yesterday, with another person along.

So yesterday Everett and I went "wildcrafting," which I intended to do for an hour but we ended up out there under the hot sun for two. I was looking for plants away from roads and exhaust fumes, and we were in luck — came home with more wild bergamot leaves, more yarrow, and a shitload more wild raspberry leaves to be dried. We also found a fabulous stand of chokecherry bushes, with the unripe fruit hanging in grape-like clusters from the branches. I don't do anything with chokecherries, so they will be left for the birds I guess.

There was a hard rain last night so it will be too wet to go a-wandering again today. But we'll go again, maybe tomorrow.

Linde, re wasps: 
Take a paper lunch bag, blow it up, tie it at the opening, and hang it high in the vicinity where wasps are a problem. Apparently they will think it's another wasp nest and will move out or stay away. Let me know if it works for you!

Personal Assistant

Scott was gone to Calgary to help son Gunnar build a deck onto his house. The dog, Tank, chose the only two boards pushed together as a place to snooze in the sun.

I am working son Everett for six hours every weekday, with jobs around the house and yard.

"You are a horrible boss," he says, because I tell him what needs to be done shortly before it's time to do it. He would prefer a list made up in advance, and perhaps no choices.

So this morning I sat down and filled out this week's calendar for him. He'll be weeding, washing cupboards, washing walls, cleaning the bathroom, bathing Ducky, bagging up the recycling, cleaning the freezer, CLRing my glass pitchers, and accompanying me on after-the-dew's-gone morning walks to find and pick medicinal wildflowers around the field across the road.

I love it. So many of these little jobs are always hanging over my head, "shoulds," that I don't get around to as often as I'd like. It's wonderful to have a personal assistant. We all need one.

Broken Dink

It's a gorgeous rainy day.

The farmboys are looking for a new bull.  The old one broke his dink!

Who knew?

Dr Who and Videogames and Magpie Thieves

Everett heads for the weed patch, transistor radio in hand.

"Mom! Come and see this," he called from the foot of his bed.

I dried my hands on a tea towel and joined him at the window.

"The magpies are pulling tomatoes off." He pointed at two of them in the garden.

Now we know who's been picking the strawberries.

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In the evenings, Everett has been gently guiding me into Dr Who.  We have watched all of the season with Christopher Eccleston (best grin ever) and just finished the second episode with David Tennant as the Doctor. Monstery aliens or fight scenes — yawn — but there's humour and sweetness in the stories and some use of historical figures as the show's protagonists travel in time. I got a kick out of their version of Queen Victoria with bad teeth, which I suppose was common enough back in the day, even for the wealthy and famous.

We are watching the shows together, most evenings; it's that, or he'd like me to play videogames with him. In those I have been totally unable to stir up any enthusiasm, and haven't really given them a college try. Fifteen minutes of making my character drive, shoot, sneak, jump, solve puzzles, collect jewels or clues or energy, etc., and I'm outta there, bored.

Perogy Factory

Everett spent 5 hrs yesterday making perogies. I was ravenous at suppertime, and started my meal with a tomato and some homemade beans while waiting for water to boil so I could cook some up.

Do we love onions, much? 

After we'd all had our fill, perogies were frozen on cookie sheets. This morning I bagged up 7 dozen.

A Kind of Writers' Block

The weeds that got away on us, and a young man with nothing better to do on a sweltering day.

There can be this powerful pull to "get something on paper," and then I find myself without any idea how to translate the language of my soul. It's as if there is a great big ball of meaning that simply will not be squeezed into straight little sentences, not even if I knew what it was I am bursting to express. And often I don't.

Sometimes motivation or heart's desire seems larger or deeper than the everyday life's opportunity to fulfil it.

July Days

The camera makes my walking road seem much shorter than it is. But look at these hills! The great undulating hills of Saskatchewan!

Flowers found with broken stems or hidden behind other plants get clipped and brought into the house. Here are today's rescues:

And it's harvest time for wild raspberry leaves, from which a tea for the lady parts may be made. These have been rinsed three times and the water's been spun out; they'll sit on these tea towels overnight and then probably will need, because of the high humidity in the house,  to be dried by the light of the oven.

Wild yarrow picked yesterday was, after rinsing, spinning, and airing for several hours on the counter, put into lunchbags with holes snipped to let moisture out. The hope is that the brown paper will absorb excess humidity. These sat on the window ledge for 24 hours but have been moved to the oven, where the heat from the oven light should help them dry. If leaves and stems were hung anywhere in this house right now, they would take forever to dry.

Scott has been away for 10 days or so, and noted upon his return that the house smells musty. Our clothing, hanging in the closet, smells musty. My books probably smell musty; perhaps our bedding and towels do. When we're here all the time, we get used to it and don't notice. A few days away and we are reminded when we walk back in.

The next plan of attack regarding this godawful ridiculous humidity situation is to do with the basement — tearing out the last of some old wooden shelving, mucking around with cement, hauling up and out every possible thing that may have absorbed moisture, and so on.

An air-exchanger is going to be a must, anyway ... or so I think.

After the Storm

It was a stormy, rainy day, but the evening was beautiful and permitted Everett and me to take a walk to the inlaws' farm a mile away and bring back our old dog, who had been gone since the magpie/powerpole event several days ago.

At one point yesterday afternoon the power went out and came back on again, along with all the electric lights and appliances in the house, except for my iMac, and that was worrisome. We thought it was kaput. Everett informed me that I did not have it plugged into the surge protector (I was too stupid for words, he implied, disgusted). I began the sheepish struggle to accept that due to my own ineptitude I no longer had a computer and had lost 10 years worth of images and other files. And then he fiddled with it, unplugged and replugged it, and it came on. Yay! But I still can't save any files to disk because I don't know how. Apparently I have to find and download an app, he says, that allows me to do it. Meanwhile I stuck a DVD into the slot and, not only will nothing copy to it, but it won't come out. Some days I really hate not knowing enough about computers.

This was all shortly after I'd read through and proofed my uncle's introduction to his memoir, and thought I'd have to do it again, and was glad I'd only done one section and not lost a whole lot more!

Here is a short excerpt from the memoir of this retired US Navy man, now in his eighties:

"I shut my eyes and imagine myself on the bridge of a ship clearing the harbor and heading for the open sea. I can hear the shrill of the seagulls, see them in flight and smell the sweet scent of the salt and the sea. My blood begins to run hot and heavy, my breathing becomes labored and my day restless with a desire to re-live the excitement I experienced in those exotic lands beyond the horizon."

Karen & Everett

Everett with his Auntie Karen

We thought Everett looked like an Amish man, or maybe a Hutterite, with his whiskers-under-chin look. When Bev was here, we tried describing the way Hutterite men dress and how the colony lives (do we know what we are talking about? not really). Everett thought we were pulling his leg.

At the farmers' market on Saturday, Karen pulled up some photos on her iPhone to prove we were not.

Are we really such bullshitters that we'd've been lying to the lad about this?

Apparently so.

The market was slow again, but I sold much of what I took, and afterward made some excellent trades with Karen, who brought bread and buns.

This week I added lemon honey to my wares, thinking ohmygoditwillneversellatthisprice! But it did, and well enough to surprise me.

Every week I learn something new about marketing and presentation. As you can see, we have a long way to go before this table will be irresistible.

This week's lesson: don't pile your cardboard boxes where they are visible.

It was a tough week as far as productivity went. By the time the broken glass in the candy thermometer was discovered, I wasn't sure when it had happened. Two batches of butterscotch fudge and a batch of almond rocha had to be thrown in the garbage because of course no risk can be taken with glass. From now on I'm not even going to use a breakable candy thermometer; maybe no thermometer at all.

Also, has anyone heard what we are to do with thermometers destined for the garbage? Surely anything containing mercury can't go to the dump, just as prescription drugs and leftover paint are not to.

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In our area there is a weather warning for this afternoon: thunderstorms, lightning, rain, tornado.
Wonder if the plant pots should be taken from the deck and set on the ground.
Big winds in summers past have blown over well-established giant evergreens behind the house and lifted heavy Adirondack chairs right off the back step.
Even more likely is that the power may go out, and I won't be able to work on the computer this afternoon.
So goodbye for now!
On to ...
Chapter One of Uncle Carl's memoir, working title: Random Thoughts from a Rocking Chair. 

Living Room

Cathy came out from the city last Sunday and spent the night.

Me to Everett this morning:
So, what do you want to do today? Wanna go anywhere?"

E:
No. Stay home.

Me:
Me too.

We had company last night around the time I was dyeing two small loads of clothing via machine (thanks for the tip, Cathy! it was simple and easy and no mess and now seems as if I have four new tops). As we sat at the supper table, there was a loud blast, a flash of light outside, and the power went out. We all ran out to see what happened. A magpie had committed electrical harikari on the power pole and lay dead at its foot. Jenna Doodle, Fearer of Thunder, hasn't been seen since; she vamoosed over to the inlaws' yard a mile away.

Whispy strips of verticalish clouds that floated over and soon beyond are apparently called "mares' tails," and are indicators of rain within 24 hours. We shall see. The sky's clear blue today so it doesn't seem likely. But I did water the flowers last night and this morning, so ... rain wouldn't surprise me either.

Raining in My Basement

Where was this T-shirt when I wanted to send a pic of it to Jolene during her hospital struggles?

In our basement, the relative humidity reading is 98% when we go down in the morning, after closing the bedroom window, to press a button and turn the dehumidifier on.

One unfortunate result is that fudge doesn't harden as it ought. There will be a shortage at my market table this weekend.

Perhaps one could improve the situation by leaving the windows closed all night as well as all day during the heat, and letting the dehumidifier run 24 hours a day, but no. It's summer, dammit, and I'm going to open the windows once in a while. Even if it's only in the cool of the evening, to sleep.

The two batches of caramel corn made early in the week didn't want to dry and harden as usual. Everett has volunteered to lick up anything that isn't fit for marketing, bless 'im.

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Friends from high school have kept me company this week - my trip to the dentist resulted in a crown - I visited the big bus that travels giving mammograms - pap smear is next - strawberry picking at Cara's this afternoon.

At Lily's garage sale in Kuroki after her passing, her bicycle decided to come home with me, and it is the most perfect fit (thank you, Lily!) I can't remember ever being so comfortable on a bike; next - another chance to ride it. Perhaps tonight.

Tomorrow will be taken up by preparations for the market on Saturday. Sunday will be a day of rest. Monday is to tackle Uncle Carl's memoir and keep at it all week.

And that's my life lately. What have you been doing?

Wanna See What a Tick Bite Looks Like?

An infected woodtick bite is about the size of a nickel.

After about five days of antibiotics, the mark had cleared up pretty much completely. But before that, everyone who saw it exclaimed, "Ewwww!"

The prescription needs to be finished so I'm still taking the damn things. And eating yogurt. And drinking minimal coffee and booze. BTW, those Smirnoff's Vodka Ice coolers are vunderbar. As soon as these pills are gone, I'm a-goin' to go buy me some.

And there are still ticks around. I caught one on me yesterday and Scott is still pulling them ("fat ones") off Jenna Doodle in spite of the treatments we have given to our dogs to prevent bites.

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Joan and her family stopped in for a couple hours yesterday on their way to Saskatoon to visit friends before heading back to Kelowna. In the evening I transplanted strawberries from pots into the garden (yes, we have a vegetable garden area again!) and today it's time to start putting this place back in order. I've been on the go long enough to let things slide. And we won't even talk about the condition of my office and bedroom; they need some serious sorting and reorganization, long overdue. I have too many clothes (love clothes) and too many books (love books) and too many papers to dispose of. We're living in controlled chaos here, my friends — bad feng shui! Call it what you will, but it absolutely does affect my state of mind when there isn't cleanliness and order in my surroundings. I'm not particularly fussy, or shooting for perfection or fancyness, but I like things tidy and want to quickly find whatever I'm looking for.

Scott gets irritated when I've put things away that he's left lying about. Put them away yourself then, I tell him; or suck it up and be grateful you don't have to live among piles of "stuff." Without me, he'd have to push grocery flyers, newspapers and envelopes out of the way whenever he sat down at the kitchen table.

He gets even more irritated when I can't immediately remember where I've put something, or don't remember seeing it at all. Sometimes he's put it away himself and forgotten, and I get blamed. Ah, the trials and tribulations of domestic life! But it doesn't slow me down any when I get into a cleaning frenzy. As my friend Rod used to say when his wife didn't appreciate all the hours he spent out in his woodworking shop, "I could have worse habits. It's not as if I'm spending all my time in the bar, is it?" I liked his logic.

Once in a while Scott threatens to clean up my stuff, and see how I like it. I just laugh. That'll be the day. He can barely pick his own socks off the floor before he runs out of them and has no choice. Here my behaviour may seem a little contradictory, for I refuse to put his dirty clothing into the laundry basket. Instead, if they've lain on the floor of our shared bedroom for more than a week or two, which drives me nuts, and I get around to it, I have been known to stuff them into a black garbage bag and put them in a closet out of sight. As a matter of fact, he still hasn't gone through a bag that's been sitting in a spare room for the past three months, if not longer. One day it could just disappear altogether, and apparently he would never notice anything is missing.

Family Days

Barbecue with my family on [nephew] Marc & Michelle's deck near Margo.

Dad with his children... the "four ugly sisters."

My niece Cara with her hubby Kris.

My nephew Ben, who has been gaining weight and is now 35 pounds. He is Joan and Gary's little fella.

Dad with his eldest granddaughter and all his great-grandchildren (three are Cara's; she is holding Marc & Michelle's baby, Lexi, and Joan's daughter Jordan is in the green top).

Man, She is Hot

One 5-minute downpour Friday night was followed by heat & humidity that still hasn't let up. Pretty nice weather for outdoor visiting in and around "the big tent," though. Better than cold and rain.

A pie-throwing contest was a fundraiser and these cousins, among others, were darn good sports about it. Apparently the pies were tasty too. 

Sign tacked up on the wall of the big tent.

Dad's cousin Orilea, party planner extraordinaire, along with her husband Bob, pulled off a smashing gathering for well over 100 relatives. I am still in awe of all the thought and effort that went into it, and somewhat ashamed of my own energy levels and ambition in comparison. I'll say it again: Wow. I'm not sure I'd ever have the guts to tackle it, myself.

These are the only pictures I took. The camera hung off a belt loop on my jeans till the last morning. What the -- ? Guess I was too busy yakking. (And yes, jeans in this sky-high temperature, in an effort to avoid sunburn. Spose I should be thankful that only my neck, shoulders and nose burnt, considering I didn't manage to stay in the shade every moment and obviously didn't apply enough sunscreen.)

We had a bus tour to the small village of Lintlaw, near which our grandparents (my great-grandparents) raised their nine children (out of 12) who survived to adulthood. The tour came complete with two knowledgeable and entertaining guides who provided family history and memories. We learned that Engdahl was not originally the family name! Back in Sweden it was Isacksson, and our great-grandfather made up a new one for himself after arriving in the States at age 17. Apparently "eng" was the name of a place he had lived back in the old country, and "dahl" means "valley" -- however Google's translator.com doesn't appear to know anything about these words. It thinks "eng" is German.

Anyhoo, it was an enjoyable weekend and then Dad, my sister Joan and family, and brother Cameron have been here since last week so we have been cramming in even more visiting together since the weekend. We gathered with Mom's family to bury Grandma's ashes on Sunday afternoon and then descended upon Karen's lakefront deck to visit some more and fill our faces at suppertime. This we repeated just down the road from her place yesterday, at my nephew's, and tonight supper is on me.

But it's going to be take-out, or going to town, because I can't bear the thought of turning on the oven or even the top of the stove to prepare something that could go into the slow-cooker or electric oven and be plugged in outside. The house, which seems cool enough this afternoon when you come in from the great outdoors, would be an inferno tonight.

Maybe air conditioning would be nice to have! We've thought that there are so few really hot days here, annually, that we can live without it. And of course we can. But these hot days do curb your options in the kitchen, that's for sure, which is why I am never completely sorry to see the end of summer.

For now I'm not complaining. We needed the heat.

Still Kickin, but Just Barely

View from back step.

Whew. Hot, busy weekend at the family reunion, and then another family get-together to bury Grandma's ashes yesterday... this morning I've managed to spend a couple hours resting and relaxing and am off again to spend the afternoon with my sisters near Margo. Our dad and our brother Cameroni Bumboni will be there later too, if not now ... they were out golfing earlier today.

Finally it's summer here. I'm taking antibiotics for a tick bite (forgive me if this is repeat info; I can't always remember what's already been posted) and was to stay out of the sun and wear sunscreen if I couldn't. Well I couldn't, and I did, but burned anyway. The sun, she is vicious!

[Cousin Gloria:  Rick said he'd sent me a message. I haven't received it!]

End of June Approacheth

Biggus Lunkus arrived home Sunday evening. Ducky decided I am "chopped liver" now. Usually it's Scott who is second choice for a lap. Now he's relegated to third and I am second.

Dad was out for a visit and lunch yesterday, and we have the Engdahl family reunion starting tomorrow night. It will be a busy weekend. Sister Joan and family will arrive today or tomorrow but will stay at Karen's ... very wise, as they will be much better fed! And more comfortably housed too. I still feel like we are half-camping at our place, and there are definitely no luxuries. Karen's new house sits on the lakeshore and overlooks ducks, geese and so on, on the water right in front. Quite lovely. And she pulls off big tasty meals without a second thought. Me, it was all I could do to come up with a chicken sandwich for Dad yesterday!

I am still without a vehicle and beginning to find it inconvenient. Up till now I could work around Scott's schedule when I needed to go somewhere. But lately he's at it from early till late and every day of the week, so I've been feeling stranded when there was something I really wanted or needed to do during business hours. Even shopping for vehicles is nearly impossible, as it's so time-consuming if you have to travel any distance to look at a possibility. I have put the word out to my family and in the past 24 hours they have brought two options to my attention, so who knows, I may have wheels again soon to go gallyvanting about. It would get Emil off my back! He doesn't let up about how he wishes I had a car so we could go places and do what we want when we want. When he wants, maybe I should say.

In the meantime my sister-in-law kindly lent me her little car on Tuesday to go to the dentist in Wynyard to get prepped for a crown. I spent two hours in the dentist's chair and came home with a nasty headache. Had to take a pill and go straight to bed. Apparently I have a tiny jaw/mouth and that extended the time required in the chair. Even the dentist worked up a sweat, trying to deal with that back molar. It was a bit of an ordeal; not painful, just fairly uncomfortable for far too long. I was never so glad to get something over with (except Everett's birth; it still surprises me that anyone decides to put herself through labour and birth a second time, once she knows what it's like). The next appointment, to fit the new crown, should only take a half-hour. I hope!

Woodticks are still a big problem here because we have a lot of long grass around the farmyard. One walk through the pasture behind our house, and I was picking ticks off myself for the rest of the day. I also got THREE bites, and one of them acted up. So I'm on antibiotics and cannot even have an alcoholic beverage this weekend. Oh well. It's not like I'm a big drinker anyway, but when you can't have something ... heh heh. Actually I won't miss a drink one bit. I imbibe so infrequently these days that one drink is usually all I can handle anyway without getting silly and acting like an Engdahl! Just kidding. My Engdahl relatives like to have a couple drinks and some fun around the campfire, but they are a fun-loving bunch even without the booze and no one seems to overdo it in the first place. I'm looking forward to seeing them all.

Blue Heron in Tree

Blue heron on left, redtailed hawk on right

A great blue heron in a tree seems just plain "clumsy" (Scott's word); I find it strange too. But they do nest in trees, after all.

Emil got his bakery visit after all, with his grandpa yesterday. He had what we call a "cheat" weekend, eating dairy and sugary delights.

It was a long day, but pleasant. The sky was grey for the first part, and blue and white in the later afternoon, and always comfortably warm if you weren't in the shade of a tree or building. The garage sale was well attended, the girls didn't need my help but were gracious enough to say they appreciated the company, and although Emil and I left with Dad for a couple hours in the afternoon, we went back with Scott to have supper with them after they'd pulled down the garage door.

This morning I am figuring out where to put the boxful of treasures I brought back. In our home and yard there will be some nice reminders of their mom, Lily, whose husband's parents I remember from when I was a very small girl in Margo, visiting my own grandparents. And whose father was a regular customer back in the day when I worked as a clerk at Jerry's General Store in Kuroki.

***

The news from Alberta is horrible; my heart goes out to everyone affected by the disastrous flooding. What a reminder of how quickly and drastically everything around you can change.

Mother of 25-Year-Old Man

It's a rainy morning and we are off to Kuroki to help Scott's cousins with a yard sale at their mom's house. They have undertaken the difficult task of sorting through and organizing everything after her recent passing, and I offered to be there in case ... well, in case of whatever. I imagine it won't be easy to watch strangers picking through possessions that your mother may have been using just a couple weeks ago. If I am there, at least the girls can go into the house if there are tough moments.

Dad arrived yesterday from Kelowna. He had stopped in Cranbrook, Okotoks, Calgary and North Battleford on his way, and said the flooding all occurred just after he left an area so the rain may be right behind him. Anyway we had a nice little visit in the afternoon and he has gone on to Margo to stay with Karen.

It was Emil's 25th birthday yesterday and, without a vehicle to drive, I was unable to pick him up and do something to celebrate. We had planned a trip to the Wadena Bakery for a "treat," and were going to go out to Missy's restaurant (it belongs to my niece) at Margo for supper too. But Scott needed the truck to work, so Emil had to swallow his disappointment. He was picked up after he'd eaten supper, and brought out here, and I promised we'd still do those things — but it will have to be when I have wheels.

A Life in Jellybeans

Thanks for the link to this, Everett.
See you in one week,
Mom

Thankful for the Rain

A rainy day is perfectly welcome these days, now that the seeds are in the ground and they need it.
Although we've had some, and could do with sunshine and heat now, instead.

These days without work are as full as they ever were. How did I ever squeeze paying work in?

There are times when Scott could use my help on worksites. I had a previous engagement the other day when he asked if I'd go do some painting that afternoon, but there was a little heartlift when the opportunity was presented.  Apparently I would like to put my painting clothes on again. There is at least one hanger in the closet holding favourite wornout, stained-up clothing, kept for just such an occupation.

I've always avoided helping Scott on his worksites, for various reasons. One is the simple fact that it could mean too much togetherness, although because of his schedule we only see each other for a short while before he leaves in the mornings, and a couple hours in the evening.

Now I'm glad to spend less time sitting in this chair, and the idea of physical labour is more appealing than ever. Even if it means me and the lad are in each others' faces too much. But we shall see.

So Who Can You Trust For Good Sustainable Tea? Twinings.

Woodland anemone under the maple tree

Thanks to Rob Crew for the link to this article: Dangerously High Pesticide Levels In Celestial Seasonings Teas

http://www.honeycolony.com/article/dangerously-high-pesticide-levels-in-brand-name-tea/

All the more reason to go outside and pick your own tea fixins.

There are some ideas here:

Tea Leaves

And the Bloomage Begins