House Arrest...the Good Kind.

Here I am at home and have been since January 31, 2008. I've left twice and both times I was driven to my destination. I recently got cataract surgery and have not been able to live the life that I have become so accustomed to...driving being the thing I dream about most. Luckily for me, I am on the mend and healing well. The day after my surgery I went in for a 6:45AM appointment and was given the green light that there was no infection and it's healing well. The only problem I have with that is that my sight is not back to what it was or noticeably improved. I know it hasn't even been a week yet, but I am quite impatient as you can tell from the title of this blog. I am in quite a rigorous schedule of drops and pills; that should calm down 7 days post-op (which is my new word of the month) But it's still annoying to not be able to watch TV for too long, or read for too long or go on the computer for too long. I mean how many things out there can you do with your eyes closed??

Tonight I am going to go on a trial run just down the road to see how my driving is, as I have class tomorrow night and have to drive myself there. I've had a few offers but I live so far from everyone that it seems a little bit of an inconvenience...and I am also so damn independent...god forbid I actually rely on somebody! I know I sound a little ticked off, but I just have to keep myself entertained for the next week and a half. So far I have been pretty good...I have a 'To Do' list and it's about 3 pages long of stuff that I know I have to do but never seem to have the time. Here I sit with all the time in the world and I feel great for being able to work through about 20 things so far. Did I mention that I have only really been mobile since Monday?? Yep, I've been busy. But I tell ya, when everyone else is doing their spring cleaning I will have already done mine. LOL

Anyhow I am going to try and be a bit more patient and enjoy the time I have off because I believe just a few blogs ago I was complaining that I had no time. So here I sit...letting my patience get the better of me when I should be embracing this time off and thanking myself for getting all of my 'To Do' things done.

Now where can I go to get a few things welded together?? Don't laugh this really is on my 'To Do' list. LOL

Resolutions, Resolutions, Resolutions

Everywhere you go, people are making New Year's Resolutions. I guess it's that time of year when we all decide that a new year is upon us and despite our better judgement we still make these "promises" to ourselves that we'll do this or do that and honestly in my opinion if we aren't already doing something close to it in our lives then the chances of us sticking with it are slim to none.

I feel compelled to jump on this bandwagon; with a few adjustments of course...I will not be saying that I am going to lose 20lbs; or not eat chips (I save that for Lent!); or do more charity work. In my opinion these so called New Year's Resolutions are to help us become better people so maybe if we all looked at ourselves a little more closely we may see something that we would like to work on changing.

I do honestly want to lose 20lbs; however instead of saying that I am going to lose 20lbs but such and such date; I will make a resolution to choose healthier foods OR pass on dessert. Something that is actually attainable and I won't feel bad should I not have lost the weight when the date comes around. Another "Resolution" might be that I would like to get back to the gym as I do miss the exercising and how good I felt afterwards; not purely to lose weight. I seem to be on a little bit of a roll...let's see I'll list some more...Here's one that'll blow a few people out of the water! I will try and incorporate wearing a skirt once every two weeks; working my way up to once a week. I wouldn't want to fail right away now would I! (LOL) Also I would like to dress up a little more; I mean when shopping or running errands on the weekends. Right now I sneak out of the house in jeans a t-shirt and sweatshirt; I still feel a little sloppy when shopping and think to myself "I can put together something better than this!" Another one is maybe to read a bit more. I do enjoy a good book every now and again and should really get more reading in. Yes, these are my "Resolutions." In fact I am getting a little excited at the thought of starting these.

Hmm, it seems now that I've written it down I just may have to stick to it as other people will be reading this and I can't really just write it down and not follow up now can I? Now these are what I call good "Resolutions"; I mean really they are just like anything else that you want to incorporate into your life...start slow and work your way up right? I feel good about writing these down and getting it out there for the entire world to see; I just may actually not let them get out of control and feel good about the person that I am with a few minor tweaks...who can't use a few minor tweaks every now and again eh?

I hope everyone else's "Resolutions" are just as good if not better than mine and I hope that you will all be excited to get started on them as I am.

Pretty Paper

As I sit here staring at my Christmas tree in all its glory, listening to Christmas carols and waiting for my cookies to bake. I am suddenly struck by the song that is playing…its "Pretty Paper" by Roy Orbison. Man how I love this song; it has a purity about it that I just love; I now know why my grandmother loved this song so. (I admit I don't know if she liked Willie Nelson's version better, but I know she loved this song)

I sit and I start to daydream about all the stories that my mom has told me about growing up and her mom preparing the Christmas dinner. My grandma was a small woman but she was feisty no one messed with her when she spoke, but she had a kindness that only grandmothers know how to have. She would stay up until all hours of the night getting everything ready; setting the table with a crisp white tablecloth; ensuring that there were no creases in it. Putting her nice china out; folding the napkins just so and always having a bowl of ribbon candy in the middle of the table. She was like an elf busy at work; baking cookies, preparing the bird, making her famous lapuchine (Christmas pudding cake) and wrapping those last minute gifts they had picked up in town earlier that day; all the while listening to her Christmas Carols. I wonder if the kids actually slept at all that night; knowing that Santa was coming…how could anyone sleep. 

I wonder what smells they would smell, I wonder what their favourite part of that night was, and I wonder how excited they were. I chuckle to myself as I think of the little ones as my grandma is shuffling from room to room getting all set up. She did this for as long as my mom can remember; just to see the smile creep across my mom's face when she re-lives her cherished memories. Oh how I wish I could've been there to see all of that. In my own memory bank I think back to the old house where my mom grew up and I imagine my granny putzing around, getting ready for the big day tomorrow. With the pots boiling on the stove, the counters full of her baking, the table being pristinely set. I can imagine all of this and am enjoying the thought of it...

Just as I have this thought the timer goes off for my own cookies and for a brief moment I enjoy the last few lines of my grandma's favourite song and wonder if my kids will have the same memories of me?

A Lost Art...

Here I sit looking at the few Christmas cards I have received this year; this is a far cry from the number that I had sent out. But that is not my point, my point is...Is this just a silly tradition or something that has been forgotten in our society? I find with how technological everything is that we've forgotten how to compose a hand written anything. There was a time when receiving a Christmas card was an honour; not everyone could afford to purchase paper let alone ink. This was something that came from a very well to do family and you had a warm feeling inside of you when opening this heartfelt wish. Just knowing that in their busy lives they took the time to let you know that you are in their thoughts.

Not to mention the postal service, the people who had to deliver this to you. Just how much they went through so that you could open the card and know that someone special was thinking about you. They would take these letters on horse drawn wagons across extreme heat or extreme cold. Not knowing what was in there just knowing that it was their duty to get this letter delivered to you.

Where have those days gone? When people took the time to write and I mean handwrite a little meaningful note inside. Oh how I miss these days of running to the mailbox anticipating who would send a card to me or even a letter. There was a time not too long ago that writing letters was the norm; but now its text messaging, email and any other gadget that can send your message without any delay…or any emotion. To me this is the true sense of writing a letter or Christmas card, the emotion. We have come so far that in this new age; we've lost our sense of true gratitude of taking the time out of our busy lives to sit down and write something to someone. It's easy enough to send a text but do your true feelings come across? Don't get me wrong I do use the technological advances to my favour; but there is just something to be said about handwriting anything to someone you know. Despite the low number of return cards, I am still going to keep the tradition going…so look forward to receiving a Christmas card from me. And maybe just maybe I've made you think twice about sending out Christmas cards...

Who Do We Really Know?

I went to a funeral last month for a man that I met only once. Our one encounter was very vivid in my mind as I sat in the pew of this tiny chapel. The day I met him, it was a beautiful sunny summer day. We got the news that he was stricken with cancer and was just recently released from the hospital and was residing at the lake. When my boyfriend heard the news we were on our way to go and see him. I decided to go along for the ride and meet the infamous "rodent" as he was lovingly called. At first glance his cottage left little to the imagination for its rustic-ness. The chair in his front yard under the large spruce tree was actually quite humorous, I secretly wondered if he ever sat in it...

After tapping on the screen door a couple of times, we were greeted by a very fragile looking character. I knew instantly why he got his name; he was hunched over and skinny but very alert. We both walked in and as we followed him into his living room, where by the way he was watching TV...I couldn't help but notice the true charm of the place.

He asked if we wanted anything and we declined stating that we were only there for a minute to see how he was doing. He was very open about it all; there were no secrets, just plain facts. As we relished in his stories of chemo-therapy, people in the hospital and his frequent visitors. I couldn't help but pay close attention when his finger pointed to a bowl sitting on his coffee table...there in the bowl were a handful of turtles, individually wrapped in their trademark orange and gold wrapper. Just sitting there gleaming as if they knew we were talking about them; at first I didn't pay much attention until I heard him say that it really meant a lot for those two particular visitors to come all the way to the hospital and see him; especially to bring him those candies. He didn't get that it was something that people do on a regular basis; he was just so touched to have people like that in his life. I felt my heart start to crumble as he told us this story; you could see his emotions in his eyes...it was true and utter gratitude.

I haven't ever seen this emotion since that day in his cottage...and there I sat in the chapel wondering what other memories he had to offer to the others in this room. I just hope that they were as good as mine with the man I had met once.

My Old Grey Sweater

There in the bottom of my drawer sat my old grey sweater; all crumpled, tattered and stained. I grabbed it smushing it to my face and took a deep breath inhaling all the memories that came with it.

The sleeves (what was left of them) and the stains were all a part of what made it so special. When I would be making spaghetti sauce I would splatter sauce all over the arm of the sweater. Oddly enough I wasn't in any hurry to go and clean it off, I felt it would give it more character. Even the time I was eating a chocolate fudge sundae and I dropped some chocolate sauce on the logo just below my shoulder. I merely rubbed it in and to this day that stain is still there. I can tell you how every stain got on this sweater and why I was wearing it; it's almost like all the stains have their own little story of how they became a part of the sweater and its comfort.

The way I would feel when I pulled it over my head. How I never felt fat it in, how I loved the way it fell on my hips…giving the illusion that I was slimmer than I really was. It did all the things a friend would do, except it was a piece of clothing. One that as I stared at it was telling me that it's time to let go, its work is done here. It's been with me through thick and thin. Times when I didn't think I would ever stop crying, times when I just wanted to be alone, times when I was happy and times when I was sad.

To know that I would come home and put this sweater on whenever I wanted to would soon be a distant memory. I had to face reality, this sweater has done its job and I had to let it go. Was I ready for that? I don't know...but would I ever be ready to let it go?

So there I sat with this sweater in my one hand and the donation bag in the other. How could I let it go, it's been there through everything! As I stared down at this sweater that could tell a million stories, I realized it was time to pass on this healing sweater to someone who needed it more than I did. I know I’ll find another sweater like my old one...but right now I don't need one anytime soon.

He will be Remembered

Today is the day that my Uncle Lornie (Clarence) lost his battle with cancer…

He was such a good man, so generous, so giving, such a good sense of humor. He was a self-taught musician; he could play any instrument given to him. He's been playing for such a long time that music was second nature to him. He has won numerous awards and prizes for singing and music contests. Anywhere within a 50KM radius, you would find him with his fiddle or guitar in his hand waiting to go on stage…

Did I also mention that he was blind? Yep, he was blind at such a young age. He was able to see everything that went on around him even without his eyes. His instincts and his ear for music were astounding. It only took a few times for him to listen to a track and then be playing and singing it. We all envied that he took the time to really feel the music; and it showed in his playing.

My mom still talks about how he would make her and her sisters all sing; whether it was to harmonize or whether it was to sing the lead vocals. He was always pushing them to their possible best. Being the oldest child I believe that comes with a lot of responsibility, one that he was willing to take on. I mean really having 7-8 younger siblings wasn't an easy task; but he was always there for all of them when they needed some advice or guidance.

He lived his life for so long with what society would call a disability, but we never saw it that way. I don't know if it was because he was blind for so long that we were accustomed to it or because he wouldn't let us see it that way. Amazing how one person can guide your perception and allow us to have a better understanding and acceptance of blindness. I have got to give him kudos for leading such a long, healthy and happy life.

He was a big man for a reason, not only because of his big heart, but because of his big sense of humor. He had nicknames for all my Aunts, even a select few of his nieces and nephews were lucky enough to get a nickname…mine was 'Brown Sugar'. I will always cherish that fact and I will miss him.

But I know that he is gone to a better place, where he will be joined by his 'Gypsy' (his mom), his Dad, his sisters, Frances, Edna and Catharine (who passed away at age 4, but continued to play with him after her death), his son Henry (whom he cradled in his arms) his niece Martinique and many other relatives and friends.

I sometimes wonder if he is able to see now. But then the thought crosses my mind that it doesn't matter if he could use his eyes or not…he always could see. May his hands always have an instrument within them; so he can continue to play his heartfelt music…and on that one clear day, may we be lucky enough to hear it.