Can I brag on my son for a bit? I’ve written about Andrew before: here, and here, and here. He certainly has his challenges, but he’s made huge strides since those stories were written, and I mean that quite literally.
Although he was in the Multiple Exceptionalities class in high school, Andrew joined the main stream cross country team. I can’t remember how or why that happened, but when I picked him up after the first practice he told me he’d run 5k. “What?” I exclaimed. “How often did you have to stop to catch your breath?” He looked at me like I was crazy. “I didn’t stop, Mom. The coach told us to run 5k, so I ran 5k. Some of the kids stopped but I just kept on going because I listened to the coach.” I was pretty impressed. Continue reading “Bragging On My Boy.”→
It’s a sunny Sunday in Ontario, and like everyone else I’m stuck at home during this COVID thing. I haven’t made sourdough bread or baked much of anything else, although many have. I’ve tried a few new recipes for dinner, but that’s about it.
Today, though, I had a craving for really good fries. And gravy. And, just for fun, yummy melty cheese.
It’s Sunday March 22, 2020, and a lot has changed in the past week. In just seven days we’ve moved from hand-washing++, and social distancing, to “Wow! I sure hope this doesn’t get as bad as it is ‘over there'”, to realizing that it certainly could.
I work in an ER and last week I spent bone-chilling hours outside in our hospital’s COVID Assessment Clinic. When people presented with symptoms or exposure risk I was disheartened by the number implying they wouldn’t take our advice to self isolate at home.
Inside, I’ve seen the mock situations, and real-time transportation of patients with suspected COVID — a parade of porters, security, and environmental services — accompanying the gurney. You can be sure there are way more on the way to the ICU. My stomach rolls when I think that our hospitals could be impacted like Italy’s are, and yet, that is entirely possible. Continue reading “This COVID thing.”→
I know these words aren’t going to change anything, but they have to come out.
I needed a few things from the store today, and because I had a bit of cabin fever (non-COVID-19 variety) I hopped in the car and drove to our small town of Uxbridge.
The first stop was at my favourite small green-grocer’s where business is usually brisk but never overwhelming. But today — holy no parking spaces, Batman! — it was crazy. Carts were FULL of fresh fruits and veg, and aisles so crowded there was hardly a way to get through. I grabbed my few items, and then, wondering if I was a bit nuts, headed over to Walmart. Continue reading “COVID-19. Stay calm.”→
Those who know Toronto might be able to picture Victoria Park and Lawrence. For those who can’t, here’s the picture.
In a now-familiar story, the farms near this intersection are sold to developers and cleared to make way for subdivisions. My Grandad buys a 30 x 60′ barn, and he and Dad dismantle it. Many evenings, after the field work is finished, and with the help of family and friends, they haul it by wagon loads up Vic Park to Sheppard, then east to Meadowvale, and north, past what is now the Toronto Zoo, to our farm.
They reassemble the barn about thirty feet from the farmhouse, and it ends up being called “the shop”, but it’s so much more. The tools, workbenches, and welders are there, but so are the family vehicles — a pickup and two cars — and lots of accumulated stuff. The second floor is a chicken pen, holding at least two hundred chickens.
I made marmalade today. I hope I don’t embarrass my mom by saying this, but I’ve never made jam in my life. Except for the occasional batch of quick-set strawberry freezer jam, which always turns out, jam-making isn’t a skill I’ve chosen to hone. Recently, though, I saw a friend’s post about marmalade preparations, and when I asked for, and received, the recipe I thought it must be a sign.
A sign that I should pick up some luscious fruit from our little local grocer, I guess. I spent a day gazing at them, imagining the golden goodness they’d be when I finally filled my jars with marmalade.
Do you know the singer Sara Bareilles? I didn’t until my 9 yr. old grandson Nolan started talking about her a year or so ago. He was excited to share some songs with me so we checked out YouTube. Now I’m a fan too.
According to Wikipedia,“Bareilles is an American singer-songwriter and actress. Her 2007 hit single “Love Song” reached no. 4 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.
“Bareilles has sold over one million albums and over nine million singles and downloads in the United States and has earned seven Grammy Award nominations, including one Album of the Year nomination for The Blessed Unrest (2013).“
Sure, it’s Wikipedia, but I’ll bite. Seems like she’s a bit of a Big Deal, but big deals on stage and screen are a dime a dozen. What’s more rare are Big Deal people who can act like Small Deal people in spite of their success. That’s when magic happens.
Every weekend I get an old-fashioned, actually made out of paper, newspaper delivered to my home. It’s a comfort thing, really, and I love to sit down with the Toronto Star (usually with a bowl of popcorn at hand) and sip tea while reading. Each Saturday I make sure to read the “Tree of the Week” column, about huge trees with interesting histories that grow in the Toronto area.
Several weeks ago I was reading the column when I had one of those ah-ha moments. “I know a tree!” I said to myself, “And it has a story to tell.” A quick phone call to my dad gave me the historical details, and a quick text with the sisters made sure I didn’t miss any stories. The writing came easily, and then it all went by email to the columnist. The rest, as folks are forever saying, is history.
A couple of years ago I was using writing prompts to get myself back to the page. Some bits of writing were better than others, but I had a whole lot of fun with this one. Since I don’t plan to use it anywhere else, I thought I’d share it here.
The prompt is written in caps, followed by the resulting story.
A SCENE THAT INVOLVES RUBIK’S CUBE SHOWING UP SOMEWHERE UNEXPECTED
When he told the story, Arnie always started by saying he didn’t see it coming, and on every count, that was true.
Thelma hadn’t been thrilled when he called to say the guys at the office were taking him out for a spur of the moment retirement party.
“Think bachelor party, only for an old guy,” said Cameron.
“We need to liven up a Thursday evening,” Shaun added.
“Not too lively.” Daniel rolled up his shirtsleeves and stretched his arms over his head. “We’d better not kill him just when the pension’s ready to kick in.”
I’m a homebody who has never pushed myself out of my comfort zone; never done anything really exciting with my life. I’ve supported many endeavours financially, wishing friends, acquaintances, and various groups well as they embark on humanitarian efforts around the world, but I’ve never gone myself. I’ve helped raise donations, and I’ve cleaned and catalogued donated medical equipment, but I’ve never traveled with it. I’ve read email updates and blogs, cheering others on, then listened to stories of adventures upon their return home, but have never had stories of my own to tell. As a matter of fact, as I write this, an AMAZING medical team is in Ghana and they are making real and lasting differences in the lives of thousands who attend their clinics.
This evening my heart was touched by the words of one of our nurses who has gone to spend six weeks in Canada’s north. This is not the first nurse I know who has done a ‘tour of duty’ in the north, and she’s not the only one in my circle who is there right now. The difference is that she is keeping a public blog, relating some of her experiences, and she’s given me permission to share what she’s written so far.