Energy

I have to roll my life around days of energy and days of lack of it, the unpredictability of it all drives me mad. Plans get shoved aside. This does not suit this former Type A personality of mine.

Pain is also up and down. Today I took two doses of pain killers with a shrug and a WTF. I despise pain killers, that buzzy wuzzy feeling does not suit me. But my energy for the day is fairly even and not in the dumps. So these small mercies I am so grateful for. It is only in the shortfall of things we normally take for granted that we recognize with joy a taste of their re-emergence.

Grandgirl is now living in Paris. She and her partner visited the grave of Van Gogh and sent me this beautiful postcard and mentioned how much I would have loved the town and place he was born in.

I am so glad we are a postcard sending family. When I am out of town I send many. And even throughout the year if I see one that is interesting. I think the internet has stolen that beautiful tradition for far too many.

She also sent me a photo of what she sees when she looks out the window from her desk.

Living the dream, indeed.

In the absence of pets in this pet free building (why, oh why?) I concentrate on my plants and yes, of course, talking to them.

These started as tiny babies given to me by Daughter when I moved in. I had a massive repotting recently on a good energy day.

And my African Violets (how I love them!) sit on my windowsill and take turns in blooming. 

That white you see outside is dense fog. I woke up to it this morning. I'm one of those weirdos who loves the fog and the foghorns which I am hearing right now. Warning all the ships and boats out at sea to be careful. Though I am sure radar has made all the difference.

Running Behind Myself

 It's odd that. I leap ahead to the old me and often get caught up in breathlessness or pain and I'm really, really slow in learning the lesson of slowing down. Honouring the what is and forgetting about the what used to be.

I always moved at the speed of sound just about, multi-tasked ad finitum, accomplished so much in one day that others were astonished.

I've done enough reading to know that I was a type A personality, always eager to prove myself (to whom, you might ask, but I really don't know) and a classic workaholic.

All is changed now that I am a few weeks into my 80th year having just reached my 79th a week or so ago.

Grandgirl is here and staying with me until next weekend which thrills me no end. Our twosome time. She's enormously attentive to my needs and even to my wants. Her cooking is amazing and we plan to catch some movies and/or series in the time she's here. She will be working remotely for a few days, which is fine by me. She's a federal economist and we are so proud of her as she is - seriously - quite brilliant. Her long term partner is staying with his parents who have moved here as his dad, though quite young, is terminally ill. A real tragedy.

I am busy counting all the gratitudes in my day as I tend to lose track when my health distracts from such feelings.

I am so grateful she is here and so very thankful for our long close relationship since I first laid eyes on her. 

I have much to catch up on, calls to return, emails to respond to, half done knitting to complete, so while she's here I can get cracking on all of that as even in this small apartment we have two separate rooms to work in. 

We also plan some wonderful beach time at this glorious place a few miles from my house.

Sunday Selections

I was a member of the East Coast Trail Association here in Newfoundland for many, many years. It has some of the most beautiful trail systems in Canada, if not in the world. The sights are breathtaking and often feature whales, moose and masses of edible wild berries on the routes.

When I had my B&B, tourists would arrive from France, UK, US, Australia and all parts of Europe and Asia just to hike this magnificent trail.

Grandgirl and her partner are now hiking different chunks of the trail every weekend, setting off early and then I go pick them up at their predestined spot. Yesterday was one such day. It was a 15km hike (10 miles) and I picked them up at Cape Spear at suppertime.

She agreed I could post some of her photos on my blog.

 

Etc.

I was encouraged today by a friend, a best selling author, who wrote of the mundane in his Facebook post.

There is always something to say.

I spent two days both prepping and undergoing some pretty brutal hospital testing procedures, under partial sedation and with minor surgery, Grandgirl never left my side and I am still in awe at her courage, competence, determination and organizational skills, down to sitting in on the post-op consultation with my specialist and handing me my bagged post event safe snack. There are two cat scans yet to come, as some diagnostics were inconclusive and need further analysis. I could never in a million years have foreseen her in such a role and frankly, it moves me to tears.

I offer you a glimpse into a budget journal former husband and I maintained to track every single income and expenditure in 1969, no matter how small. We emigrated from Ireland in January 1967 and bought our 1st house near the Beaches in Toronto exactly 3 years later.

Hair bow and pack of gum        $1.07

Lunch                                         $0.70

Groceries                                    $0.39

Present for Marion (?)                $1.00

Cigarettes                                    $1.45

K-Mart book & record                $1.76

Booze for party                            $3.00

Outfit for Daughter                       $1.29

Bell Telephone                            $10.00

2 Theatre tickets                          $8.00

Baby sitter                                    $3.00 

Seems almost prehistoric, doesn't it?

Daughter is exploring her inner artist and I am the beneficiary of some of her work.

This is an exquisite rendition of a whale. She lives where the whales roll in every year much to the delight of so many tourists who come in from around the world to see the spectacle. The whales ride in very close to the shore as the sea drops dramatically there, affording an up close and personal look at the breeching and spouting.

A Picture is Worth.......

I'm focused on photos.

Sharing them.

Grandgirl was over last night with all these ingredients for dinner, her go-to recipe. It's tortellini, this time she found a sundried tomato with mozzarella variety. She adds fresh kale (our fave veggie) garlic, a splash of cider vinegar, loads of butter and tops the lot with a good French goat's cheese, crumbled. I can't tell you how good it is. We thought we might had a tossing of walnuts to it next time. I remembered to take a pic tonight of the leftover I had of the leftovers. It's a challenge not to inhale it.

An up to date pic of the sofa blanket/afghan which I've called Stone and Sand and Sea and Sky after the song of that name. The couple it is destined for are mad about the sea.  It has about a foot more to go.

Niece and I had breakfast today which then evolved into lunch as we chatted non-stop for nearly 5 hours where we sorted out the world. She always brings knitting. I do if I have a small piece. But I was struck by how her bag matched her yarn and found the image quite beautiful.

It was marvelous to have fairly normal social interactions outside and in coffee shops. But there has been a new cluster way north of here. Remote workers coming home. So still vigilant and masked.

Monday Melange

 Life seems to have returned to normal here out on The Edge. Stores, restaurants and pubs along with theatres are open. Downtown is brisk with shoppers and walkers, new restaurants have opened along with beer gardens and art galleries.

Still.

A ship is anchored in the harbour with 11 cases of Covid aboard (at last count) and one case was boated off to hospital. The ship is in quarantine.

Any new cases on the island have been identified and isolated so there is no community transmission.

Still.

I realize we are all leaning on the trust of our fellow humans.

Grandgirl and partner arrived here safely and were interrogated thoroughly at the Newfoundland border. Which is a relief. They are now in quarantine. I saw them at a distance yesterday when I was dropping off some supplies. The desire to hug was so strong it brought tears to my eyes. But we didn't. I have now more relatives on this island than I ever dreamed possible.

I took this picture on Signal Hill the other evening. A slight fog. You can barely make out the ships in the harbour.

This gave me pause:

And this made me laugh so hard.

Peace out.

Back to Square One

I had a couple of days of relief but for the past five days it's been back to exhaustion, pain, and this miasma of hopelessness covering everything. I've been nearly a year in isolation and the remaining nerve in my head is jingling and not in a good way. It's tough living alone and making all decisions with regard to health care, ever conscious of mobility challenges and lights at end of tunnel have to be self-instigated or not at all. And I don't have a match.

Sorry to be on such a downer, my lack of energy is dragging me into a dark place. It seems like my entire creative spirt has upped and left. I can't even get my new card put together.

I only whinge to my whinge buddies. On here is just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. I haven't heard from specialists or have test appointments. I am super pale and a friend (masked) who delivered soup was shocked at my appearance which didn't make me feel better but a whole lot worse. I've lost interest in food, can't get enough sleep and it takes me a good hour to get oriented and kinda moving in the morning.

Okay. Cheery thought..

A huge shock. Grandgirl and her partner are moving here May 1 for three months at least. They can each work remotely. They are moving into a house right here, vacant, and owned by another family member:

To say I am thrilled that she will be living just around the corner from me is understating it. Totally unexpected though Daughter and I dreamed of it but just between the two of us. 

So over and out and I plan to try and read blogs today and connect with all you lovelies. 

 

 

 

A Tough Ol' Year

For all of us.

Not that we hadn't been warned way ahead of time. For years. A virus would get us in the end, they said, something invisible. With a breathtaking virulence and multiple mutations. That's something out of sci-fi, we thought, sneering. With all our medical knowledge we would slay it within weeks, look what we did to all the old diseases, diptheria, whooping cough, measles, polio. We are smarter than any virus. Yet here we go stumbling into 2021 and the virus is mutating and outsmarting us all right behind us.

And look what's happened. Millions dead. And still more will be dead from the after-effects. Not to mention the suicides and debilitating depressions and the undiagnosed non-Covid illnesses like cancer, heart disease, with people too afraid of hospitals to go for tests and diagnostics.

So yeah, it was tough, as we limp into 2021, still uncertain of what the future holds.

As to me? I read a lot. I wrote a lot. I streamed a lot. Didn't knit as much as I wanted to.

The gifts of Covid, not in any particular order:

(1) Zoom meetings every Sunday afternoon with my five siblings, we are scattered througout the world but we all show up faithfully week after week.

(2) Seeing clearly what's important and what isn't in life.

(3) Missing really ordinary bits and pieces I took for granted like sitting in cafes with friends mulling over the state of the world. Never realizing that that was a something I took for grantd pre-Plague. Live theatre, live music.

(4) Zoom Meetings with long time friends in Ontario whom I miss so much.

(5) Seeing how local friends misbehaved in not following the protocols, never realizing how truly selfish they were in not protecting others by wearing a mask.

(6) Forcing myself to fix computer and tablet issues when challenged. It hurt the ancient brain but I managed. And felt inordinately proud when successful (hello new bluetooth connection which took an inordinate amount of time.)

(7) Precious travelling trip to the Great Northern Peninsula with Grandgirl and Daughter. Grandgirl had to self-isolate for 2 weeks when she got here before we all set off and I am so grateful for her concern and caring of her old grandma.

(8) Enjoying cheap flowers like never before, here's a picture of the irises I bought yesterday:

Here's a pic of Grandgirl and me at the Viking Settlement, I wish I had the picture handy of me pushing her in her jogging stroller 25 years before as we I ran in a Toronto road race! It would have been one of those perfect circle of life treasures. I'll never forget her lisping over and over "Go, grandma, go!" Now it was my turn to urge her on through the trails!

And here's a bunch of Irish wishes for all of you out there as we bravely face this brand new year.

Blog Jam

Sometimes I feel like a pretzel when I get out of bed.

I sit on the edge, waiting for everything to uncontort itself, to unwind. Sometimes it takes a while. I take the opportunity to reflect on the day ahead and tick off some internal boxes. Enough food? Enough books? Enough meds? Enough contact with those I love? Enough knitting? Enough writing ahead? Enough ideas? Enough games of delightful and amazing Scrabble with the 12 daily games I've been playing since the invention of the internet? Enough Zoom meetings? Enough money to pay the bills?

Not necessarily in that order. But you catch my drift. It keeps me in gratitude. Because there is enough. And sometimes, if I need to shop for essentials, I find the body rebels that particularly day so I take it easy on myself and look in the freezer or the cupboard and laugh out loud. So much food.

A breakfast I bake regularly.It's good hot or cold. And is one the healthiest ever as it is completely balanced. This has 4 servings.

I was thinking on kindred spirits. Some tell me they're my kindred spirits but I believe a kindred has to be an innie if we're "getting" each other at that level. I wrote about it here. Nothing has really changed since that post. I don't need lectures that I read too much or I write too much and I should get out and "shop" - retail therapy. An Innie would never do that. But the Outies do.

Most of my readers are kindreds, I can just tell, they are thoughtful and have dug deep into their inners and continue to do so judging from comments and their own posts. It is so delightful we find each other on the interwebz.

I picked up this from my mailbox yesterday. A postcard from Daughter. I absolutely love it.

Grandgirl is planning on coming for a month starting mid-July. She will self-quarantine. Her city, Toronto, is doing really poorly with Covid, we are doing remarkably well with no new cases now for a month.

But not everything is open yet. But "caution exhaustion" is setting in with its consequential carelessness. Only 1 in 10 are now wearing masks.

A Letter to My Granddaughter

Darling Girl Woman,

You continue to astonish me both in your academic career (Master of Economics, how brilliant you are!) and in your conduct of your life.

I feel so fortunate in having watched you grow and to spend so much time with you, whole weekends, whole weeks, having you in my office every afternoon after school for many years, having you and your mother living in my home in Toronto (albeit a separate apartment) for years.

I have so many treasured memories.

I remember one time picking you up from kindergarten and you clutching my sleeve and said "Grandma, are you warm enough?" Such concern from a 4 year old was indicative of the wonderful, kind person you would become. I remember when you got your first skateboard and I found an empty underground car parking lot and took you there and we spent 2 whole hours (and many times subsequently)while you skated and skated and whooped and jumped.

I remember riding the subway rails with you in Toronto with no destination in mind, just sitting behind the driver and watching the tunnel ahead of us. Getting off, so we would chat with the driver and sometimes getting back on again or sometimes riding the odd escalator and going down once more to ride with no destination.

I remember reading to you and singing to you ad infinitum. And writing stories with you.

We always pool our music and make playlists together and I love that you sometimes find new versions of my "old" music (Elvis!) and adore Ella Fitzgerald and my weird folk music tastes as I love your Pink and Lord Huron and you my Radical Face.

I remember our annual vacations together and the fun we had, it was hard to tell who had the most fun, me or you. I remember us two riding ferries and trains and hiking and playing pitch and putt and me watching you for hours as you rode carousels and switchbacks. And you playing all afternoon on the beach with your imaginary friends.

Oh hiking, lots of hiking. You would always spontaneously offer me your hand when we forded streams and came down cliffs. You would always point out the "safe" rocks for climbing. You were fearless and courageous. And still are.

Which brings me to now, and the time we spend together, you 25, me 76. You are endlessly kind and caring. I never have to ask you for anything. You hold my hand when negotiating icy sidewalks, you ask me for shopping lists so you can lug heavy or awkward items up to my apartment (and you include some desired items without being asked), you wash the dishes without my noticing, you display endless patience with the physical challenges I now face.

You are so wise. I can ask you for advice and you reflect deeply before responding. You are joyful and intelligent and highly sociable. Many comment on your beauty and you truly are very lovely. But it is your inner that shines, how much you care for your mother, your partner, your friends and your colleagues.

You truly are one of a kind. And I am so incredibly blessed that you call me Grandma.

Acceptance

I must have written about this before. Acceptance.

One thing I know for sure. It is not a constant. It waffles and wavers and falls down and gets up in a different form. It can leave the room slowly or gallop off like a horse.

I'm still not 100% of where I was even a few weeks ago. I have Grandgirl staying with me and it really puts my health into a floodlit situation being around her. The energy my dears, the energy is just not there. And I have had many a private cry and an appalling one in front of her this morning after a miserable night of it.

Don't get me wrong. She is amazing and kind and lovely. Just this pity pot seems very handy for me to stick my head in now and again when I am alone.

I feel the Black Dog lurking patiently, panting in eagerness. And I know I am struggling one more time with the acceptance of my failing body.

I had to get another chest X-ray this week and I hauled myself off but I couldn't get parking and so I circled the hospital for about an hour, just about whimpering. Acceptance I kept saying to myself. Ask for help. Stop feeling like such a burden. One friend could use any money I offer her to assist me as she is impoverished at the moment. Rise up. Count the blessings. Accept where you are and carry on.

As I type Grandgirl is making supper. Kale and tortellini and goat cheese, etc. There is an odd shifting of balance between us. Inevitable. I am so grateful I live long enough to see her grow into this lovely, brilliant young woman who has a wonderful future ahead of her. She's a happy person. Content with her life and her partner and her large circle of friends.

I am reminded of my own beloved granny who didn't do so well in her latter years. One of her daughters insisted on her leaving her home and moving in with her and her rambunctious household that also included her mother-in-law and that was not a good move. Granny missed her village and her friends and her chickens and dog. Independence is truly all important in our senior years as long we it is even remotely manageable. Closing our own doors on the world when we need to. I imagine as I fall into some decrepitude Granny is haunting me a little. But she also had the huge burden of a dead daughter (my mother) which was devastating for her.

I need to accept life as it is today and move away from the "not any mores" and the "neverness" of things I won't be able for again.

Just writing all this turbulence down has really helped me today.

Acceptance.

I need to work on it some more.

Friday Fumbles

A little note popped up in a knitting sketch book this morning:

"Why do people long for immortality when they don't know what to do with themselves on a wet Sunday afternoon?"

If I ever get to the end of my To-Do list it will be time for me to die.

Looking through some photos, this photo touched my heart. Grandgirl and Ansa laughing together on a rock from 2006. Try not to laugh back at them imagining the shared joke.

I fear for my friend L as her texting to me has stopped completely. Another friend ran into her and said she seemed terribly confused and shouldn't be driving. So she has worsened. I do hope her sons are monitoring the situation. The last text I had from her was her questioning if she should go into a seniors' residence. I supported that, of course. She is more than ready. I wrote about her here, our last time together, in 2018, in 5 parts.

I never tire of photographing the sea in all its thousands of moods. This one I took way back when L visited me here in Newfoundland and life seemed so much simpler then.

Free Floating Fridays

It's great to write this when I have so much else screaming for my attention but here goes. A breath of relief in the midst of so many demands on my time today.

The rehearsals for the play are being scheduled, first one on Sunday night and I can't tell you how thrilling it all is to be looking forward to being back on the boards again. Grandgirl put a comment on my page on FB: "coolest grandma ever." High praise indeed but I think she's felt that way for a while, judging by her bragging to her friends when they compare grandparents. I think being open-minded and non-geezerish is the route to a successful grandparent-grandchild relationship. Plus seizing the opportunity to be a child again with a sense of wonder and joy. And avoiding phrases like "in my time" unless asked.

We are getting ready for press release event for the media for launching our Seniors Advocacy Group. Advocacy is a nice word. We are actually demanding rectification to the injustices and forcing accountability from these wealthy out of touch politicians. Such events are all about the "stories" and that's the part we are working on.

Obituaries: I've seen so many "sweet" ones here when it comes to women. How giving and uncomplaining and loving everyone they ever met and devoting themselves to family and baking. I'd rather die outrageous, unconventional and opinionated, thanks. I often think it's a matter of exposure to more choices as children, more opportunities to explore all aspects of ourselves rather than being confined to a narrow box of service to families. But if they're happy (are they, truly?) so be it. I know I chafe against "normal."

Now that I have physical challenges I find one of the hidden mental "jobs" I perform is accessing every place new for accessibility from the parking to the walking once I get there. I am astonished at how many places are off limits due to distance. Something one never notices when galloping around in optimum health.

I bought a lovely handmade cane when I was away recently, I think it adds a bit of class to the meandering me. I don't use it all the time but there are occasions when I've used up all my spoons in the previous 2 days and need it.

Free-Floating Fridays

Grandgirl received her Master of Economics degree yesterday. Can't tell you how proud I am.

I transplanted the African Violets that I call The Three Sisters and they are thriving. I haven't been able to grow violets since my Toronto days (and a fine hand I was at it too) so am thrilled they like this eastern lookout.

I'm surrounded by sudden onset dementia lately. I don't even know if there's such a thing, don't want to know. Two women in the laundry room yesterday were completely baffled by the machine knobs. Women who were completely competent before. I had to go back to help them with the dryer knobs. A man I had a kinda "coffee date" with not too long ago was reported missing by his sister and the police found him wandering around the nearby lake looking for his car. 5 kilometers from his home, the car was parked at his apartment building. He is now in a home. I saw him about a month ago at the local coffee shop. Without even greeting me, he asked me for a ride downtown. I was on my way in the opposite direction and declined. He was odd, never looked at me, stumbled off outside as I watched him, puzzled, not realizing he was in a bad way even though he smelled to high heaven as if he hadn't washed in weeks. I feel weird about this. Is my compassion quota all used up?

I'm still not coming to grips with my seriously reduced energy levels. I take on too much and then have to bow off. The spoons theory needs to be honoured more by me. It's like I'm greedy for life in such an enormous way and then run into my elderly self, defeated and disgruntled and dismayed and disappointed. Not a good feeling.

PS Please feel free to join in on Free-Floating Fridays and link to your post on comments here.

Slump

Yeah, I was in one. A pileup. You know what I'm talking about.

A feeling of being overwhelmed.

A planned road trip for Daughter and Grandgirl and self to see her graduate from U of T grad school, a huge achievement, wearing me down, even the very thought of it.

Too many medications switches (JFC this blood pressure thing is a nightmare, effecting my kidneys, my outlook, my sanity) to even count. And I won't go on with that, medi-bores are just that and I bore myself.

Uncertainty.

Others' expectations.

I dreaded the talk with D & G.

But I bit the bullet, appropriately, on Mother's Day. I kept thinking I was making too much of my physical challenges, but boy, believe me, some days are absolute shyte and they are utterly unpredictable. And being away from my bubble, this perfect little apartment with doctors on call and friends around, intimidated me with the what-ifs. Plus moving attention away from my darling girl with sick old granny lurking somewhere in her apartment surrounded by pills and drenched in fear. I know, I exaggerate, but you get the drift of the way I was feeling. When I have bad days I practise massive avoidance of people and things and events. It's easy. But not on the road or Somewhere Else.

So I threw on the Big Girl Knickers and at the end of our lovely brunch yesterday told D I could not make the trip and talked of my fears and pain and medical crap. And all I got back was love and concern and D saying when G gets here we will do a small trip around the island and just hang out for a lovely two days, stress free. And that made me cry.

And then I told G on the phone late that night and she was absolutely fine too, more concerned about me than herself and her Big Achievement and Grandma being there.

And I felt loved and valued. And behold, arose out of my slump today and was reborn again.

Safe and secure and looking ahead again rather than behind me, mourning legs and abilities and well behaved blood and driving forever and barreling around Toronto like I used to.

Deslumped, we might say.

Elder Value

Growing old is not for sissies as Bette Davis said. She said a lot more too, see above.

I was at an event attended by elders last night. One of my hobbies is observing elders in great big bunches, not that they'd notice, I'm pretty good at it. I can be looking at you and listening to something behind me.

The event was a BBQ and we had live music. All the old songs from our teen years, early rock, some country, some Irish, some Newfoundland music.

The conversation at my table (6 around it) focussed on the good old days and how great the parties were then, how perfect the music, how wonderfully we danced, things just weren't the same and the young don't know what they're missing glued to their screens 24/7

I restrain myself. I always do. I want to yell "horseshit" or "bollocks" for I know The Ladies would circulate a petition and have me tossed out of the building.

I was startled a little to see tears in a friend's eyes and I asked her what was wrong and she said the music always brought her back to her dancing days and how sad she was they were gone.

I mentioned that Grandgirl and I share our music every time we meet and that we had played one of her newest finds (Pink's album - fabulous)



and one of mine (Radical Face - equally fabulous)



And of course when our time together is over we have the music to resavour these more recent moments together and also have the opportunity to discuss why we like this music. For instance "Always Gold", a track from Radical Face, reminds me of Missing Daughter and how I long for her return.

The Ladies looked very confused and eyed me as if I had broken out in a foreign language. No response, apart from puzzlement.

My point in this post is that do us elders have values apart from our distant memories? Are we meant to walk around as if we are mere sarcophaguses of our past? Do we not have a capacity to initiate and create present moments?

I have no desire to "fit in" to some proscribed elder formula, sizing up others to see if they are fitting the geezer mould or alternatively breaking out into puzzling and gossip-worthy behaviours which are perceived as strange and alarming.

I'm aware I'm in a minority here.

But I wouldn't change it for anything.

Three Generations and a Pub Crawl

Sunday, July 15th.

The three of us headed off last night to George Street, St. John's which has the most pubs per square inch than any other street in North America. Hang on a minute I'm going to Wiki that, just to make sure.

Well it doesn't mention that but it this will give you an idea of the street.

We had a great time. Two generations drink but the elder does not. Anymore. I figure I drank enough for three lifetimes when I did drink and I just celebrated 32 years of sobriety. So club sodas are the order of the day for moi with lime or cranberry attached. I have to say I do miss the Rock Shandys of Ireland though. Served in a pint glass and utterly delicious for the non-drinker. I see they're putting this mix in cans now. Not here unfortunately.

We loved all the music and general conviviality at the bars and engaged with another older woman who was there with her daughter and daughter-in-law on a pub crawl too. Her first one at the age of 73. Never too late to experience what we have missed along the way.

However, we threw in the towel at around 11.00 pm even though George Street rocks till all hours of the morning. I remember the good old days when I'd be rocking along and looking for a feed as dawn nudged the horizon. I'm sure the young ones might have wanted to stay but felt they needed to take Grandma home and well - ha!- Grandma was the designated driver.

We heard this hairy old favourite many times on our walks by the pubs.

Nothing can ever top the time it was sung to me by an old busker on Patrick Street in Cork.

Abundance

'Tis easy indeed to focus on the challenges, the negativity, the scarcity.

Today, I focus on the positive, the intangibles and tangibles.

I find it helpful to take a look at the life I'm living from the perspective of a stranger looking in.

I had a giggle in the hall yesterday with a woman who admired the fact I was driving still. She only drives in the summer. I said rain was a challenge in the short days when night descended so rapidly. She agreed. I asked where she was off to. She said she was a champion dart player and was off to claim a prize and free dinner. Dressed to the nines she was. She said: I think I'll beat their darty asses for another 10 years. She volunteered she was 84. I loved her spirit.

I'm still one of the "babies" in this building which makes me smile.

I found this delicious white fur coat (fake fur) at the SPCA thrift shop a couple of weeks ago. It had the tags still on it at $225 and I got it for $20. It was one of those mad purchases (internal dialogue: white? white? Are you insane?) but every time I wear it - for a fancy dinner with a Toronto friend, to a marvelous potluck dinner on Sunday, to my book club luncheon on Monday, I feel like a movie star. And the reactions? Everyone comments, even strangers. (OMG, the coat, that coat!). Best $20 I spent in a long time.

Daughter booked us dinner on Xmas day in one of the fancy hotels here. We had a bit of a hunt as Christmas is a sacrament in this province (aggressive Merry Christmas pronouncements, Jesus' birthday donchaknow, etc., no understanding of other faiths celebrating during the same timeframe, and oh horror, you're a pagan/atheist, Satan stay away from me, etc. Along with the most outrageous consumption of material crap I've ever witnessed and the most deadly and ugly driving to get at it.

So to find this civilized hotel was amazing. We would do this in Toronto on Christmas Day and often take a movie in too (exnay on a movie here, unfortunately). Delighted we are.

A dear friend in New York sent me an outrageously flamboyant poinsettia. Her story of how she managed to order it and have it delivered to me is a long blog post unto itself. And to top this off, in the mail today was the most beautiful hand designed silk scarf from her. I am so touched.

Grandgirl called me from Cambodia where she is stationed for a while and we chatted for 2 hours. I feel so very blessed with her in my life. She is one fascinating young woman and we have a wealth of commonality in our interests.

So conversely, on the downside, the last windstorm took down a large tree branch at my unsold outport saltbox house which snagged a wire which pulled down a corner of my roof and left a mess across the meadow. The power company is getting there today. I was so upset yesterday when I was there and felt quite powerless. Even more upset when I realized that a few were working on the Cathedral next door and hadn't bothered to report it themselves or to me. The inhumanity of these prominent churchy people who want my house for a song, continues to astonish me. Long may I be surprised as to be cynical and hating doesn't serve me well.

I am working on submitting a play to the Women's Work Festival. I'd written this play a while ago but was unable to get it produced in the outports. Maybe I'll have more luck in St. John's, the Big Small Smoke.

I must say I love living here in St. John's.

It's a rebirth of the finest kind.

Key

Possible concept for a minimalist desk.

I hope it's not a foreboding of bad luck but when I laid claim to my new dwelling, all suited up with preliminary baggage: the important stuff like the small French press, mug, dark roast coffee, cream, some basic pantry stock, a small table, chair, layouts, suggestions, wouldn't you know it the key wouldn't work.

Because it didn't I met two of my neighbours, Elizabeth and Carol, who endeavoured mightily to help me. No luck. Not even a twitch out of the lock. I called the administrator (not a super, no, he's an administrator) no answer, left a message. Schlepped (with difficulty) my stuff back down again to the car (the ladies offered to host my bits in their apartments but I declined) and waited. I don't know about you but as I age I find the Type A personality has not being paying attention to meditation and OM practices whatsoever. So frustration and a small pity party ensued. He called me within 10 minutes. He'd been at the hospital and left his phone in his car. Upside was he found another key in the office and told me there were trolleys and roll-y carts to assist residents in hauling stuff around. He took my baggage up and we did the transfer of keys.

So I made myself a cup of La Java Française and sat down at the wee table and pondered my new space. And pondered. And thought: cripes what have I done. And thought: this is all good. And once again, I forgot to take pics for Grandgirl. She is the space expert. Seriously. At twelve she was organizing my car. At fourteen organizing my storage space in Toronto. At 20 she travelled Europe for the summer with a small backpack. At 21 she taught in India for months with a ditto. A genius with space and minimum necessities.

As a boost I watched The Minimalist. Recommend. Seriously. I love the 333 concept too. Though I've been adhering to minimum clothes for a while. And shoes. I was comforted by both. Yes, I'm doing the right thing.

I set up an area in the garage today with a table and loads of boxes of all sorts of stuff for me to go through. I set it up out there as my tourist season starts soon. Leo is an amazing help for the lugging as I am no longer able. I've recycled so much paper, cards and letters already but there's still more. Frighteningly more. But not as intimidating as I feared. The movies and books are the next go-through, though I've donated a lot already.

So yeah, I'll get there.

Purge

I never tire of the sunsets here

I've started the purge. Not that there's much enough. Sentimental stuff hauled all the way here from Toronto. Letters, photos, cards. And the journals I need to burn. Tripe as my father would have called such "rubbish". He burned and dumped all his own stuff about 6 months before he died. "The Evidence" as I like to mentally call it. Cartons of papers and gawd knows what else.

I found lovely photos of my Helen. Cards from Missing Daughter loving me forever. Forever is always negotiable, isn't it. At the time we mean it. Can never imagine forever being over and done with. I philosophize as I work my way through stuff. A lot of thank you cards extolling my kindness, etc. Many from people whose names do not stir any remembrance at all. Weird that. Many items from people long dead. I am being ruthless. I don't need these memento mori anymore in my life. We change. We evolve. We devolve. We move on.

I had to make two hard decisions in the week. One was not to attend Grandgirl's Convocation in Ontario. She was limited to inviting three people only. Her father, her mother and I were her choices. The health thing. I am bockety, unsteady on the pins. I thought about this. Being a constant worry to my loved ones. Because worry they would. And distract. There is endless walking and grounds and halls and parking lots. I'm good for about three minutes and then kazoom. And a fresh worry, legitimate, deep vein thrombosis on the flight. I shouldn't say worry as I sound a mite obsessed. I'm not. At all. This was a carefully thought through decision with no regrets. I'll see the pictures and the fact she included me in her three beloveds meant the world to me.

I'm putting a small stayover bag for my apartment together. I'm quite excited about this. And then I walk across to my iceberg in this sparkling shine of a day and I feel the tears. Leaving here, leaving this magical place where I finally found myself. I still have a busy final tourist season happening ahead of me.

That's all good. I'm going out with a bang.

I keep reminding myself: This is all so good. So very good.