First Friday

View from desk, after toast and tea

And that, my friends, is all I have to offer after a couple full days at work. Girlysue here hasn't yet gotten on top of the time-management situation. But she will. She will!

My friend Linde (my last job, at the Canadian Encyclopedia, gave me wonderful new friends as well as a somewhat swanky-looking resumé) was a newspaper editor once upon a time, and tells me the machine in the photo in the last entry is a linotype machine.

This week Aunt Reta has my car, so I'm catching rides to and from work with Scott. This means getting out the door somewhat earlier than I would otherwise. Thus I must go begin the beautification process. For me, that means brushing my teeth, passing a soapy washcloth over my skin, and soaking my head so my hair doesn't look like a lopsided helmet for the rest of the day. Oh, and dressing. Being dressed definitely improves my appearance, notwithstanding my fondness for a certain fluffy green housecoat.

Old Workhorse Out to Pasture

This dusty old machine is one of my neighbours at the new work station. One day I'll find out what it is. 

There are several hunks of hefty old printing machinery in the news building, unused. Just curiosities now.

I spent most of the day at the computer, and enjoyed it thoroughly.
Even better, I had company for a noontime walk. My companion walks as fast I do, and even so, we damn near froze. It's gotta snow any day if this cold keeps up. Frigid.

No More Lady of Leisure

Everett carries home groceries in  preparation for his dad's visit on the Thanksgiving long weekend.

Joanne Bohl is back to blogging: see here. I hope she keeps it up, as she should have a few stories to tell. She's been in and out of hospital for many months and is now back in the nursing home in Canora. Aunt Reta and I drove over there for a visit that lasted less than two hours, flew by, and was too short. We planned to get back again before Reta leaves for Phoenix, but now it's not looking like it will happen, for me anyway.

I've been perusing another friend's delightful webpage too.  A cancerous lump was found on her tongue and she has been handling the situation in her own unique way. Have a look. She is one inspiring and strong woman.

And now, it's off to bed for this kid. I start my new job tomorrow morning at the Wadena News. It would be nice to be wide awake and sharp on my first day "learning the ropes."

Dinner at Neil and Rose's

Kendra is my cousin Heather's oldest daughter.

Aunt Rose with Kendra's little sister Haley

My cousin Jolene has graduated from walker to cane, six months after her accident.

Noisy Thing

The trip to Prince Albert for a medical appointment was made on a rainy day, and I waited in the parking lot for a while after my inlaws went into the building. Cool days invariably mean damp socks and cold feet, so I gave them a nice warming dry-job before heading inside, myself.

This building has the loudest flushing toilets in the ladies room, ever. I went in upon entering the office complex, and was washing my hands when the automatic flush kicked in and scared the bejesus out of me. So I knew how loud it was when, before leaving at the end of the day for the drive home, I used the facilities again and was for a second time startled right out of my skin. Even knowing it was just the toilet flushing, I still wanted to bolt out of that room as quickly as possible.

Wonder how many heart attacks or fainting fits that little technological wonder has spawned.

Thanksgiving Weekend

Brrr. It's been a cold and windy week. But that hasn't kept me from my walks, most days. I bundle up and head out, whether I want to or not.

This time of year is the best for walking across the fields. There are no mosquitoes, and no crop to trample on. And it's even more appealing because being off the road, even a little ways, is peaceful. There isn't a lot of traffic, but I still have to call the dogs and hang onto them when a vehicle approaches, or the fools will run right out in front of it at the very last moment. God knows what they're thinking, when they've been at my feet till then.

No turkey plans in our household, though relatives are coming into the area from all directions for the Thanksgiving long weekend, so we will see some family over the next day or two.

Afternoon in Margo

Aunt Shirley is ready for Halloween.

We picked Shirley up in Margo — she lives in what used to be Grandma and Grandpa's house — and went to Missy's restaurant for lunch, but Shirley had bread rising in pans so couldn't be enticed to accompany us to the seniors' centre afterward.

Where I got a refresher in the game of canasta:

Olga and Reta count up the points and Betty gathers the cards for shuffling.

And thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Is there any better way to spend an afternoon than with a gang of gals?

Lately I hear a lot about bullying and ostracization among young girls, and even among adult women in the workplace who have apparently never grown up and out of it. But I have never experienced it with a group of older women, who seem invariably kind and pleasant.

I guess it takes all kinds. Maybe I've just been fortunate. I certainly wasn't all sweetness and light myself, as a young girl; my younger siblings and their friends have lived to tell tales of my adolescent cruelty, which I now regret (not letting them live, ha ha; I mean being mean).

Making His First Home

On Sunday afternoon, Aunt Reta and I drove to town and watched Everett unpack and wash his dishes and find places to put them.

I turned the furnace on for Reta, who sat at the kitchen table all bundled up even though the sun was streaming warmly into the window.

We joked about the enjoyment of watching Everett work. Then we hung curtains in the livingroom for him.

Today we're off to Margo for lunch, and then Reta wants to spend the afternoon playing cards at the seniors' centre. I think I'm up for that; something different, and it's always a pleasure to visit with the ladies.

Aunt Reta

For Aunt Reta, who is visiting from Phoenix and likes bread made with white flour, I made these buns for supper. They are giant! I guess you can't tell from the picture.

Here she is, trying to keep warm:

Last Day

No, it's not the end of the world.
It's just the dairy bar closing for the winter.

And now ... off to the market!

Kelvington Clubhouse

On some of those sweltering hot summer days when I went to work with Scott, we retreated to the Kelvington golf clubhouse for lunch. Air conditioning! And food is so much more delicious when you have been lugging construction material around a job site all morning, and are good and hungry. [On many other days, the homeowners gave us simple yet tasty lunches in their back yard under shady trees, and joined us for an hour's visit. Not necessary or expected, but much appreciated and really nice of them to go that extra mile.]

This week the boys are slugging away outside, framing a large new house and trying to get it closed in before the seriously cold weather descends upon us. I am relieved that my help has not been requested; I think I'd be miserable out there, shivering. It's already cold, as far as I'm concerned.

Waiting

All dressed up, and no place to go.

I went to bed early last night. Nine-thirty. That's early, and I was asnooze before the radio turned itself off an hour later. But then I was up at 4:30, too hungry to fall back asleep, so I made toast and coffee and sat reading by the light of a table lamp in the living room.

Scott's parents are going north this morning for a medical appointment, and I'm to accompany them and do some driving, I imagine. Only I thought we'd be leaving at 8:30, and was ready to go out the door for the day, only to be informed that 9:30 was more suitable. Which is fine with me. An hour to putz around is always welcome.

Song for Sharon

Written and sung by the great Joni Mitchell, illustrated beautifully by Nathaniel Barlam.

Prairie Pyramids

the autumn gold of stubble 

A lot of crops are still in the field, and we've had rain recently so things came to a standstill, but the yields this year are so good that many farmers don't have bin space for all the grain they're taking off the land. Thus we are seeing these prairie pyramids all over the place:

grain poured into a pile till there's a place to put it

Even those temporary plastic grain-covers (what kind of farm girl am I, to not even know what they are called? they look like giant white worms lying out in the stubble) are sold out of the agricultural supply stores, or so I'm told.

Today is windy and sunny, so the combines will be out again any moment.

We got a bed over to Everett's little house in town, and packed up dishes from the open cabinets at our old house, and dropped them off in boxes with towels and bedding at the rental house. He said he will wash all the kitchen stuff before putting it away, since it's been sitting collecting dust. I offered to help, and was told No Thanks, I'll Do It Myself. I think he is starting to get excited about having his first place and looks forward to having things just the way he wants them.

Cold Trumps Heat, for Walking

Emil exits the Co-op store

I do not like the sweatpants and baggy T-shirt look, but I do like that his primary caregiver at Mallard Industries now does Emil's clothes-shopping, so I do not complain! I love that his primary caregiver is taking over the responsibility of driving him to appointments with the doctor and the dentist, too.

Speaking of which, he visited both, today, so I wonder how he is feeling. I'll be picking him up for the weekend in just a few hours, so I'll find out then. He apparently needs two fillings, after never having a cavity in his life (what's going on? six months ago he cut out sweets drastically from his diet, and now he gets cavities? it makes no sense), and needles to freeze his gums are not going to be easily handled, methinks. Could be my presence will be helpful when that happens. Then again, sometimes it's worse for "kids" when their parents are there, so I don't know what will be best.

Aunt Reta and I drove to Canora yesterday to visit with Joanne Bohl, who is a resident at the care home there. The hour-and-a-half we were at her bedside flew by; we will make a point of going again before Reta flies back to Phoenix. I encouraged Joanne to start blogging again, as it was a great way to hear from her regularly and she is certainly experiencing things, living in a nursing home at her young age (she is only in her sixties), that are far from as dull to readers as she herself may consider them. She said she might be able to cobble together an entry that included our visit yesterday. I suggested she mention how goodlooking and charming I was. We shall see! Ha.

It's a cool one today, and I have been baking caramel corn for Missy's Market and doing dishes and am about to go for a walk before heading to town for errand-running and son-picking-up-age. Two years ago, when I began my "health" walks at the beginning of June, I was afraid of not being able to keep them going once the cold weather of winter came. Now it's just the opposite: it's the hot weather of summer that puts a crimp in my routine. Fall and winter are absolutely perfect for brisk walking. It's a rare day when the cold — usually the wind, actually — turns me back at the end of our driveway. But heat and humidity, well, they can do a lot of damage. There have been times I've slowed to a crawl and felt like stopping completely, and wondered if I actually would make it home again. Heat exhaustion, I guess it was, or dehydration; I'm still not sure.

Anyway off I go, to keep my heart healthy and maintain my "girlish figure." Nyuk!

By the way, those of you who are active on Twitter: How do you do it??? Is it just a matter of getting into the habit? How do you find things to tweet about? What do you want your Twitter friends to tweet about? Do tell.

Credit Card Scam

Tiniest,  sourest crabapples in the world. Hope the deer like them this winter. 

"Ms J?"

Yep.

"You have a TD Visa card, you always pay your balance off each month, and you've just received your new card in the mail, correct?"

Right.

"You are entitled to a lower interest rate, which will be applied to your new card. But not to the one you are currently using, the old one."

Okay.

"So, can you tell me the expiration date on that card, please?"

No.

"Why not?"

I'm not giving you any information.

CLICK. The bastard hangs up.

Never give these callers any information. I don't care who's calling; even if they seem legit, they aren't. As a matter of fact, I often hang up without even speaking to them. However, sometimes those scammy-sounding calls are actually calls we want, so now I listen till I'm sure ... till they ask for information of any sort.

Don't fall for it. I have friends who have, whose bank accounts got cleaned out. Don't think you can't be fooled. You may learn the hard way that these criminals are good at what they do.

Life As We Know It

Mountainous cloud formations were seen on the drive to town one morning at 7:30.

It's going to be a busy week. I've got to finish those books for Scott today, no matter what.

He's working in town now, which means I don't have to drive in with Everett in the mornings, but will still pick him up at five. And, we have found a nice little old house for him to move into at the beginning of next month, so he can walk to work and get away from his horrible mother, who drives him insane with her warbling and door-knocking and interrupting to request things, and so on and so forth.

On the other hand, my son and I still have 44 old episodes of Dr Who to watch in the next 59 days, before the new season starts. He has seen them all, but I am new to the story and he is leading me through. How are we going to manage that when he's not living here? Marathon weekends, I guess. Pfft. I can't sit still that long. Or maybe I can. I don't want to.

Imaginary aliens remain uninteresting to me, but I like the people stories. I like finding common ground with Everett, even if it means watching science fiction.

An episode of the science show Quirks & Quarks on CBC Radio recently stated that the Kepler telescope has informed us there are hundreds of millions of planets out there, circling the stars. With those numbers, surely there will be some that support life, maybe even life similar to that here on earth. Now that I find exciting.

This week will require organizing utility accounts for the kid, finding and moving furniture, packing up dishes and bedding and towels, and so on. The lad only has Saturday afternoons and Sundays off, and of course the evenings, to do all this. His horrible mother will have to help. I guess there's nothing saying he has to be ready to stay there on the 1st of the month. He just has to be ready to pay the rent.

Well, there goes the stove timer I set for myself so I wouldn't sit at this desk for more than an hour at a time. On with the sunny day!

Time Flies

There are no more standing crops to be seen.

Instead there are flocks of migrating geese stopping for an overnighter in the stubble.

And I caught a glimpse of a mother moose and her young'un when I looked back past my own driveway. Click to enlarge.

 It's been a lazy morning. I awoke amid an uncomfortable night accepting it would be a pill-required day, so got up at 4:30ish and took one. Coffee was delivered to the nightstand after Scott got it brewed a couple hours later, but I ignored it and burrowed deeper into my pillow.

Everett came into the bedroom and tapped on my hip shortly after 7 so I'd get up and ride along to town with him; I'd heard him ask Scott "So what's the plan?" meaning "Am I catching a ride with you or do I need to get Mom up?" and receiving the reply "I'll be going to work," the no-brainer, really, as there is literally no day when Scott is not going to work.

I got up to get ready, but felt pretty shitty, and told Everett to knock on the bathroom door and "Ask him so he understands what you really want to know: 'Are you going to town before 8?' "

He did so and the response was that Everett could catch a ride; Scott refilled my coffee cup before they left; I sat up for a few more minutes wondering if coffee might help if I just got more of it down my neck, and realized things were not going to improve unless I slept some more. So I curled up on the couch with Ducky Doodle my trusty cuddler, and voila, a couple more hours did the trick. A phone call at 10 kept me from wasting the entire morning away, so I've been up ... but not "at 'er."

Guess it's time to start. I've got Scott's books to finish up, and dishes to do, and a walk to take. And then it will be time to head for town to get Everett home, and then it will be time to cook up some supper. And time flies, flies, flies.

Dogs' Life

Ducky, left,  with his sweetheart, Jenna

Dogs have a pretty good life, don't they?

Dairy Bar for Sale

Biker stops at drive-thru window

Six days a week I pick Everett up at work, and every other day I make him drive around town for a half-hour in hopes he'll acquire the confidence to book his driver's test. He bitches and complains (which is why I don't make him do it every day; I can't stand being in the same vehicle with the whining), but I say Hey! I am not driving you forever, boychik!

For now I don't mind, although on frosty mornings like today it's a little tough to push myself out into the cold.

On warm days we too often lately stop at the drive-thru for an ice cream cone for Ma, who figures it will be closed in a month so we might as well take advantage before it's too late. I'm partial to Rolo ice cream. Everett won't eat anything — not even fries — while he's driving, as it is too distracting, he says. But one day last week he ordered a "blizzard" and pulled into the elementary school parking lot so he could spoon it up while I hurried through the ice cream. You have to: even though I always order a "small," it's huge and melting all over the place if you don't keep it licked. Dirty job, but somebody has to ....

The dairy bar has been up for sale for more than a year already. Any takers out there? Long hours for half the year, hard work, but "they" say these little drive-thrus are deadly moneymakers. This particular one has been a busy place ever since I was a teenager and we'd drive here from Margo on weekend nights for a burger and fries, and of course in hopes of meeting up with other teenagers on the prowl. It's changed hands several times but still seems to be a going concern.

The deep-fried pickles are to die for.