♫ Hey Big Spender ♫

Scott bought a new toy: a bigger mower, with a grass-catcher. 

Yesterday I went to my first garage sale this season. I don't need a thing! But am looking for child's wagons to use to move my heavy, full flowerpots around the yard, and wooden photo frames for my wall collection of family pictures. I brought home one 5" x 7" frame, and:

to help keep mosquitoes at bay out on the deck: can't have too many

the cutest little flowerpot, right

A chocolate-melting cup and a noodle bowl w/chopsticks

All for a grand total of $2.
♫ Hey Big Spender ♫ 

A Time for Sowing

Seeding has begun, in our corner of the cosmos.

That's what's going on outdoors.
It looks like we may get rain today, too.

Indoors, I am trying to get the laptop to do what I want so I can use it for certain aspects of my job, and it's being unreasonable and uncooperative and speaking a language I don't understand.

The binoculars are for birdwatching through the window.

After spending several hours yesterday afternoon without getting the required results, I was washing dishes when Scott came home, said hello, and asked me immediately, "What's wrong?"

"It's that obvious?" said I. "I'm frustrated as hell."

It was so exhausting that after eating a light supper I laid down for a half-hour in hopes of getting a second wind. And then went out, dug up a couple dozen perennials, and transplanted them into the new front flowerbed. This I know how to do! And it is satisfying to see the greenery out there where I want it.

Now if only things will start going my way at the kitchen table.

The Daily Palaver

Male American goldfinches, seen above, arrived at the feeders first. The paler females appeared yesterday.

You try to come up with something to post every day!

The webpages I'm most loyal to are those that have new content every time I manage to get over to them; if I'm disappointed too many times, I tend to stop going back.

Here, it's my habit to post some sort of photo at least, and even if there's nothing much going on, just saying hello gets me started and then I can be surprised by what comes up, sometimes, if I just sit down here and give it a minute or two and post something — anything. It's really all about my own entertainment, to be honest, and my own love of letterwriting and journalling. My entries won't contain the solution to world peace or a learned treatise on philosophy or a witty satire on lifestyle or insider stock tips; I'm not even sharing all my bitchy life dramas (and I do have a few!) with you people. If a friendly how-dy-doo isn't good enough for you, dear reader ... you will be disappointed here.

Today I've got someone coming over in an hour or two and I'm still in my housecoat and pyjamas and haven't eaten breakfast. The house was cold so I didn't feel like making my habitual fruit smoothie; I cranked the furnace on instead and will wait till things toast up. The wind's being a bit mean and the sky's grey so there's no incentive to go outside yet, even though transplanting a dozen speedwells into the new flowerbed out front is next on my gardening agenda.

[Anyone local want well-established shasta daisies or daylilies? They are here for the diggin; I've no place to put them and they could end up ploughed under if no one takes them. Also there are three peonies that I've no new home for; all yours, just come over and get them. They aren't quick to recover from transplanting but they will eventually.]

And I want to put in five hours at work on the computer before doing something with ground beef for supper; something like meatloaf, which is one of my favourites. Can you go wrong with ground beef? Not usually. But blechh. I'm bored with cooking. And dishes. Would rather live on fruit smoothies.

Had a little mostly one-sided conversation with Emil, who apparently believes clowns should be nice people:

Emil
"I like The Simpsons.
There's a guy named Crusty the Clown. He's not very nice. He shouldn't even be a clown. He's mean.
Crusty the Clown always sounds like he has a sore throat when he talks. I don't like the way he talks. Maybe he does have a sore throat."

Me
"So, what do you like about The Simpsons?"

Emil
"I like everybody except Crusty the Clown. He's mean.
Poppa likes The Simpsons too."

Florence Foster Jenkins (Cover Your Ears!)

While doing my work, which requires plenty of internet surfing to find information and photographs relating to a variety of subjects, I come across the most curious things.

Today, while searching for an image to illustrate Canada's Immigration Act of 1976, I stumbled upon this. Don't ask me how. But I just had to share it with you. Perhaps you will stop saying, "Oh, I can't sing!" This lady sure as heck couldn't, but she didn't let that stop her!

For more information about this performer who couldn't sing worth a hoot but sold out Carnegie Hall, click on this link.

I've already sent it to my sister Karen for whom, as for me, listening to Florence Foster Jenkins "sing" is horribly irritating. As a matter of fact, I can guarantee Karen won't make it to the end of the recording; I didn't.

I've often heard people who can't remain on pitch while certain they are excellent singers, but I've never heard of anyone taking it to such extremes in public and so able to convince herself that her voice was worth listening to, and more: worth paying to listen to.

All I Want for Mother's Day is a Bath Pillow

All sliced, so the mess is made only once

Been hard at work the last few days, as well as struggling with the neck thing again; however today I'm feeling normal and the sun is warm and the wind isn't being a bastard, so I plan to spend much of it outside with a hoe or shovel in my hand. Imagine I'll come in with a sunburn, but don't care.

And the new green leaves have popped out, and the birds are singing up a storm all around. This is my idea of heaven, though naturally it would not be heaven for everyone. For instance: wood ticks. Frightful things. But they're not going to stop me enjoying the outdoors. My heaven is certainly different from the heaven of others; and that makes perfect sense to me. A city boy recently told me that a few days in the quiet countryside (it's far from quiet, I have to say,  but compared to the Toronto traffic I guess it is) unnerved him, and he craved the sound of traffic again. Everett, on the other hand, who is now living in Edmonton, tells me he's coming out here with his dad this week to get a few lungfuls of fresh air, because even after living in the city since September he's not become accustomed to the "smell" of it. (He actually has no sense of smell; he "tastes" what the rest of us smell.)

Woke up yesterday morning to the sound of the lawn being mowed ... a summer sound if ever there was one. Felt as if I was living a life of luxury, to lie abed while the household's early riser was out there working. Although I suspect that riding around on the lawnmower is a rest, for him, compared to the other work he does.

And yes I am thinking of my "moms" today. My little grandmom, gone more than a year now, and my mom, gone almost seven. If you've still got your mom and your grandma in your life, spoil them rotten today.

Sights of Saskatoon

I will never believe this little baby is 14. Never!!

Cathy, left, after the show with her daughter Emma and her mom Elaine

The city of Saskatoon has prettified its streets by such scenes as this: Joni Mitchell, who calls the city her hometown,  with a view of city bridges behind. I took this picture though the window of Cathy's car on a rainy day.

Sights of Toronto

With false captions for those who find my blog somewhat ... too ... dull ...
Does this help?

The mall across from my hotel; there was a bomb scare there the day before I arrived

A pair of lesbian transvestites I ran into at the mall

When you're eating your meals alone, they should at least look good. Supper: grilled vegetable sandwich w/ sweet potato fries. 

A trapeze act hired to entertain me in my hotel room; they had a real workout. Bet they were sore for days.

My Spiderwoman capabilities allowed me to scale the outside walls of the hotel and enter rooms whose occupants had left their purchases behind while they went sightseeing. This way I don't have to do all my *shopping* at the mall.

Housekeeping

Sign that our cleaning gal has been here

Home, at last! Only six days away but it felt like a long time.
And the sun is shining. There were tinges of green in the trees outside Saskatoon, but they became fewer as I drew closer to Wadena. However, the frogs are still having a heyday and if the sun keeps it up today, it won't be long till we're bathed in the kelly green of brand new poplar and willow leaves.
I've been outside in my bright green housecoat —thankyou Joanie!— pulling grass and weeds from the flowerbed and flowerpots, spotting new growth in the old flowerbed (so many plants to be moved yet), and thinking I'd like to spend the entire day outside.
Might just let myself do it, too.

Rosebud Mountain

The "mountain" above looks close, but it is actually a mile away from where I stood on the road to take this picture. Last spring the municipality (I assume) decided to store gravel in an unused farmyard; so there it is. Rosebud is the name of the area in the countryside where we live.

Not far from the gravel pile is a country hall that has been used for many years for dances and parties. Sometimes when I'm sitting up reading late on weekends the deep drone of the bass is audible from across the field between the hall and our place. For only a moment there is a sense of "missing all the fun," but it is just old habit. You couldn't drag me out of my cosy bed to that noisy hall; not with a herd of wild horses. I know exactly what I'm missing: nothing. Or put another way: been there, done that, got the Tshirt.

The flight to Saskatoon was uneventful yesterday but for a small boy, too young to make intelligible words yet, who peered over the back of his seat ahead of my row and entertained. The two ladies beside me laughed and played with him -- "Boo!" --  and I went back to my reading until he'd holler at me in his garbled language to Pay Attention! I wasn't to be allowed to wriggle out of it that easily. Smiling toddlers; gotta love 'em. Or else.

There's been heavy rainfall throughout the night and it's still windy and wet out there. Cathy and I will attend her daughter Emma's musical theatre performance this afternoon -- I've never seen her onstage so this is a long-overdue event for me -- and tomorrow I'll head down the highway home.

Scott, when we spoke on the phone while I was away in March, insisted on putting the receiver to little Ducky's ear so that I could speak to him. The dog reacted by pawing at it. This trip, when Scott did the same thing and I said a few words to the dog (not my idea, I'll have you know; too silly, but I obliged), he licked the receiver. Awww.......

Lone Spruce

Old Barn, Lone Tree

That's it then, for Hog Town. A hearty brunch with a work colleague, a stroll out in the sunshine, and here I am, packing up for the trip to the airport, where I'll spend yet more time people-watching before we take to the air in four hours.

I understand I may need my jacket when getting off the plane in Saskatoon. Hard to believe at this moment, when it's hot and I'm wishing I had a fan in my hand.

Doc Makes It To The River

Last year Doc MacLean stopped at the little Anglican church in Wadena as part of his tour across Canada. I got this little video but until now YouTube wouldn't allow me to upload anything longer than about 20 seconds. Suddenly I'm no longer persona non grata. I've got privileges! Woo hoo!"

I'm a big like-er of Doc's songs and always yodel alongside his "sultry tones." Yodelling works for me because I rarely remember lyrics. As a matter of fact, I have no clue what most songs are about. Doc puts a lot of effort into his storytelling so this might be disappointing to him, but what can I do? It's the way I listen to music.

Speaking of listening to music, after Maggie and John left last night (I'd given them tea and coffee in my room) I figured I'd better go down and eat something. Not that I was hungry, but I didn't want to be caught in my room unable to sleep because I hadn't eaten enough. And no piano player! He only plays Monday to Wednesday nights in the lounge. Guess I should have seized the day, the night before!

Looks like it's shaping up to be a hot day. At least, that's how it feels in here.

Ravine in Spring

How things look back home

Scott called early this morning and mentioned that at home, it had frozen during the night.

Here the tulips are over a foot tall, and blooming! The grass is green ... the birdies sing ... and everything!

Had a fine visit this evening with my Katimavik friend Maggie, whom I hadn't seen for some 30 or more years. It was only two hours of chatting but she and her husband had driven an hour-and-a-half after work to get here, and had yet to make their way home through pouring rain and then they work tomorrow morning. Within a very short time I thought what a shame Scott wasn't here, as the two men would have had a lot in common. We managed to have some good laughs and solve the world's problems and I have decided to assume we'll get to spend another evening sorting things out before 30 more years pass. (It's my head; I can dream if I want to.)


It is midnight, time for this tired gal to hit the hay. Will have more time to ramble another day. Perhaps tomorrow evening, when I'm sitting in this hotel room by my lonesome, with my head near to exploding with all the new information I'm taking in for work. With my luck tonight I'll be practising my new database skills instead of getting a good sleep. Can't help it; my brain functions like a Nazi sometimes.

Buds

Taken above my driveway 

And I was excited to see those buds, believe me!
Now here I am in Toronto, where the first thing I noticed was that THE LEAVES ARE OUT!
What a treat to see that. And the lilacs are starting to bloom! Back home ... well, you've seen: buds only.

It was one in the morning before I managed to fall asleep in Saskatoon, and then the alarm went at 4 a.m. and I was up, drinking coffee, eating Cathy's delicious banana chocolate chip muffins, and being driven to the airport by my sainted friend who got out of bed at 4:30 rather than make me take a cab. Thank you again, Cathy. You really go beyond the call of friendship duty. I owe ya bigtime.

The early departure was so that I could take a direct three-hour flight rather than fly west to Calgary and then east again. I was fortunate enough to sit with two lovely ladies (three blonds in a row, were we) whose conversation made the trip seem short and sweet. One of them (Hi Andrea!) even offered to drop me off here at the hotel on her way home, and then was kind enough to wait for me till my luggage became available, when she could have jaunted off right away. I swear, when it comes to the very decent and kind people I meet, I am one of the luckiest women in the world.

It was just past noon when I got checked in and up to my room, unpacked and settled in, and looked in the mirror. Hoo boy. Obviously very tired. However I didn't dare take a nap for fear of missing my tea-time appointment with Barbara and Deb (see The Middle Ages blog; link's in the list of Canadian webpages down below), so I took a nice long shower to perk me up and then headed across the street to the mall, where I walked around for an hour until it was time to meet. This was my first in-person meeting with internet friends, and it was no disappointment. These two gals were so easy to talk to it was as if we'd known each other for a hundred years, and by the time we parted ways, I hated to let them go. I got what looks to be a gorgeous picture of the two of them, but it'll have to wait till I get home before you get to see it. Pretty sure Barbara's camera is toast, due to the photo she took with me in it. (I should've warned you, B.)

Back at the hotel I took a stroll through the building to see how late the restaurant is open and find some snacks to keep in my room. My plan was to get to bed early, catch up on the sleep I missed last night, and be perky for tomorrow's learning curve. But someone was playing the piano in the lounge, and I am oh so tempted to go down there and listen to him while eating something. Except that I'm not hungry. Guess I could drink. But not on a mostly empty stomach. Hm. We'll see. Meanwhile sitting here with Scott's laptop is perfectly restful and relaxing. The only thing I'd enjoy more is if he was here with me.

Boy is the traffic outside my fourth-floor window ever loud! With luck it'll make white noise that'll help me sleep like a baby tonight.

There is a lot to see and do in this city, but it's unlikely I'll avail myself of any of the tourist attractions: Casa Loma, which would be fascinating to see, and the Royal Ontario Museum ... and that's only two of many. I've only got Friday evening free, and a couple hours Saturday afternoon before flying back to Saskatoon, and it might be wise to leave those spots open for now just in case this old girl actually needs to rest at some point.

Country mouse in the city, that's me.

My Pet Moose

We guess this little darlin is a year-old female. During yesterday's walk was the third time I've come upon her in the past few days. She stood looking back at me for quite awhile before deciding she should hide (sorry about the wind; honestly it is the wind, not my breathing):




Thanks to Joanne, I've remembered that today Mom would've phoned her and given the annual spiel:

Hooray Hooray
It's the First of May
Outdoor screwing
Starts today!

And on that note I'll leave you for now, as I've got to spend the morning doing laundry, packing, and preparing to drive to Saskatoon, where I'll spend the night at Cathy's and catch the plane to Toronto at 6 a.m. You may have to live without my wondrous words for an entire week, you poor things! Unless I've the inclination to get on the laptop in the hotel room in the evenings. We shall see.

From A Year With Rumi: Daily Readings by Coleman Bark:

The way you make love
is the way God will be with you.

*This is Rumi's variation on the Golden Rule.

Food for thought, isn't it?

Retired workhorses— granary and grain truck

Yesterday was pretty much a write-off, though I did manage to sit here for one hour and work. The rest of the day and all of the night were spent wondering what in the hell it is I do to bring this upon myself. In hopes of relieving the pressure on my neck I semi-reclined on the couch for part of the night. There was no real sleep to be had, but I dreamed anyway.  The mind is an entertaining beast when you're awake enough to observe what it gets up to. Quite inventive!

After sleeping most of the morning I am caught up on the hours missed last night and now feel almost normal. My fingers are crossed that it remains so for the rest of the day. That deadline still needs to be met, and I've got to prepare for a week away from home: do laundry, pack, and so on.

Sure hope this kind of migraine thingy doesn't spring itself upon me while en route to Toronto during the three-hour plane ride, or when I'm there working over several days.

Snow Geese

There's a flock in the field south of our yard, and are they ever noisy! And easily spooked. I was still quite far away when they left the ground and, not ready for it, missed recording the first moments. But the sound made by their wings as they first take off is enough to make you stand there with your mouth open. It's almost overwhelming.

I'm not feeling right, dammit (neck thing, third day in a row), but have to work this afternoon if we're to meet a deadline, so am going to go for a short walk and see if that helps any. If it doesn't, sitting here will be hell on wheels. You know how it is when all you want to do is sleep to escape it, and you can't.

Accident on Main St Wadena

Maybe this thing ...

...hit this thing.

It appears no one was hurt, but the ambulance showed up anyway just moments after I snapped these pictures when Emil and I came out of the Co-op store.

A Quick Hello

Flat, my ass! Lo the undulating hills of Saskatchewan

It is freezing cold out there this morning, and I haven't even had breakfast yet, but have a busy day ahead that must include a brisk 45-minute walk. Sigh. Some days I sure don't feel like it.

And now, it is time to make this morning's smoothie: kiwi, banana, spinach, yogurt, blueberries, apple, orange. It will be olive green, but I don't care; it will taste delicious and look at all the vitamins getting down my neck! This pleases me no end.

I'll leave you with the following film, which my sister Joan says was an eye-opener for her and her hubby:

Watch Forks Over Knives online:

http://www.filmsforaction.org/Watch/Forks_Over_Knives_2011/

Oh, and look! Since it's soon dandelion season, why not make good use of the pesky plants?

Other Places to Read

Out behind the chicken coop sits this old thing, probably an apartment for mice now.

I have gathered some links that might be of interest:

http://greatgreths.wordpress.com/

The Unbearable Lightness of Being Me contains some stunning photographs

http://blog.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/blog/posts/classic-shipwreck-songs/#more-3795

Classic Shipwreck Songs, by Gary Cristall on the Canadian Encyclopedia blog; contains a 5-minute audio recording of Leadbelly

“When Edith Wharton—then Edith Jones—was a little girl, her favorite game was called “making up.” “Making up” involved pacing around with an open book and (before she could read) inventing and then later half reading, half inventing stories about real people, narratives that she would chant very loud and very fast. The constant pacing and shouting were important parts of the game, which (according to Wharton’s memoir, A Backward Glance) had an enraptured, trance-like, slightly erotic aspect. Her parents spied on her, and it made them nervous.” 

http://www.nybooks.com/blogs/nyrblog/2012/mar/21/making-up-edith-wharton/

Making up Edith Warton, by Francine Prose in The New York Review of Books

And that's that for that! 

I will be slaving hard indoors for most of the day, trying to meet a deadline. 

Birthday Girls

Angela and Karen

So you think astrology is a bunch of hooey, do you?
The pattern of your life is affected by the alignment of the stars and planets at the moment of your birth. An astrologer "reads" your life by studying a picture of the sky from the place you were born and at that particular date and time of day.
These two, Angela and Karen, were born in the same hospital on the same day 51 years ago.
They were good friends as schoolgirls and then married brothers who farm together. The two families lived near each other in a shared farmyard until just this spring, when they both moved into new houses built on a lakeshore.
Angela and Karen each raised three children — two girls and one boy.
Both women worked at the school in Margo as teachers' aides and now they both work in neighbouring Invermay, one at the school and one at the nursing home.

When I went to Karen's yesterday to take a flower arrangement for her birthday, Angela popped in so I got to see her too.

From Karen's front window you can see Margo, two miles away

I gave Karen a tarot "birthday card" yesterday and it occurred to me that these would be as welcome, by a lot of us, as the traditional birthday card. See my tarot page (link is in list below, too) for more information.