I’ve never been a big fan of zoos, unless I could go with young children, especially our grandchildren. Watching ‘little people’ delight in animals, no matter the size or reputation, seems to show a mutual respect between animals and children. I don’t like watching animals pacing back and forth in their enclosure. I suppose for many people, it is a treat to see real live animals from far away places; animals that they would normally only see in photos books.
We have visited one exotic animal “attraction” on a family vacation, including our grand-kids, which I did enjoy very much. It is an animal park near Escondido, California, that is quite different. San Diego Zoo Safari Park is an expansive wildlife sanctuary, home to more than 3,500 animals representing more than 400 species. The animals have large fenced areas where they can roam to their heart’s content; it is the visitors who are ‘caged’. To see the animals, we boarded an electric train that toured the 1800-acre park. The grandchildren had so many questions, and we were treated with squeals of delightful laughter.
What can I say about zippers? Thank goodness somebody had the smarts to invent such a useful item. If I had to rely on buttons on my jackets, my housecoat, and my wallet, I likely would be short a button or two (or more), and my cash would probably be in a draw-string sack. Now, when I’m shopping at my favorite Thrift Store, looking for an item of clothing that is so cheap that I can’t afford not to buy it, I look for a zipper closure, if appropriate. My favorite “treasure hunt” is for leather and nylon handbags. Quality leather is one thing, nylon is easy maintenance, but zippers are a must. Zippers keep stuff organized and secure, so that I won’t lose anything, should I drop or mishandle my purse. It’s hard enough to forget stuff, but even worse to lose important items.
I’ve said enough. It’s been fun participating in this A-Z Blog Challenge, second time around. How many blogs do I still need to write to complete the whole alphabet? ZERO!
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Yardley, Yams and Yancey
It must be the snow in the air, but I’ve been enjoying home time the last couple of weeks. I must say that I don’t remember ever being bored, and I’m sure that the computer has much to do with that. Sitting by my window, and watching a fresh blanket of snow forming on our back patio, I came up with the idea for my next A to Z Blog Challenge.
Thinking of topics that could start with ‘Y’, the first word that came into mind was Yardley. I had to go to Google to find out if it was a real English word or something that I made up. Sure enough, it is a genuine English word, and it revived a very real memory. My mother’s favorite scent was lavender, and she would always have a bar of Yardley English Lavender soap tucked in the back of her underwear drawer. As a child, I couldn’t understand why it was always in her drawer, still in the wrapper, and not by the sink in the bathroom. The Palmolive soap that I got to use wasn’t nearly as nice as the one my mother had in her drawer.
Yams, also known as sweet potatoes was a favorite at home, but I rarely buy them now. I do know that they can be baked, mashed or roasted, and even in delicious desserts, but when my spouse doesn’t like yams, I rarely think of them except for Easter, Thanksgiving and/or Christmas Dinners. We will be enjoying Easter dinner with our DIL’s family and I’m hoping they are thinking about yams too.
Philip Yancey is one of my favorite authors. He was a Chicago journalist who now writes some very thought-provoking books. Two of his many books that I have enjoyed are ‘The Jesus I Never Knew’ and ‘What’s So Amazing About Grace?” Other titles are ‘Where Is God When It Hurts?’ and ‘Finding God In Unexpected Places’.
I just thought of one more ‘Y’ word… YOU! Thanks for taking the time to read my blogs.
Thinking of topics that could start with ‘Y’, the first word that came into mind was Yardley. I had to go to Google to find out if it was a real English word or something that I made up. Sure enough, it is a genuine English word, and it revived a very real memory. My mother’s favorite scent was lavender, and she would always have a bar of Yardley English Lavender soap tucked in the back of her underwear drawer. As a child, I couldn’t understand why it was always in her drawer, still in the wrapper, and not by the sink in the bathroom. The Palmolive soap that I got to use wasn’t nearly as nice as the one my mother had in her drawer.
Yams, also known as sweet potatoes was a favorite at home, but I rarely buy them now. I do know that they can be baked, mashed or roasted, and even in delicious desserts, but when my spouse doesn’t like yams, I rarely think of them except for Easter, Thanksgiving and/or Christmas Dinners. We will be enjoying Easter dinner with our DIL’s family and I’m hoping they are thinking about yams too.
Philip Yancey is one of my favorite authors. He was a Chicago journalist who now writes some very thought-provoking books. Two of his many books that I have enjoyed are ‘The Jesus I Never Knew’ and ‘What’s So Amazing About Grace?” Other titles are ‘Where Is God When It Hurts?’ and ‘Finding God In Unexpected Places’.
I just thought of one more ‘Y’ word… YOU! Thanks for taking the time to read my blogs.
Xerox and Xylitol
What can I tell you about two ‘X’ words that once were commonly used in our home. I love crossword puzzles and the Internet game, Words with Friends, and I’ve often use xa, xi, and xu but in my office and my home, these two words that I am including in this blog were common.
I had a home-based graphic design business for seven years, with customers in the town closest to where we live. I figured there were enough home-based businesses with self-taught designers in the city, and in an effort to produce full color advertising posters, business cards and other project, I was able to purchase a Xerox printer that used wax crayons instead of color ink or laser toner. It was a dream printer but when I decided to “retire”, it made no sense for me to keep it because of the high cost of the ‘crayons’.
My other ‘x’ word was added to my kitchen and dining table. I admit that I have always been a “sugar pig”, and I used xylitol as an alternate sweetener. It’s not as sweet as sugar but I tried it for a couple of years, in an effort to keep my weight under control. However, it didn’t last long, even though it was a natural sweetener. I didn’t like the taste, and decided I would do better by learning to eat LESS, rather than adding xylitol to my diet. Even though it took me almost a year to adjust my eating habits… learning to recognize the difference between being ‘satisfied’ and ‘being full’ finally worked for me.
My final comment in this blog is that neither word is no longer in my vocabulary or household. One I can’t afford, and the other I can’t enjoy!
I had a home-based graphic design business for seven years, with customers in the town closest to where we live. I figured there were enough home-based businesses with self-taught designers in the city, and in an effort to produce full color advertising posters, business cards and other project, I was able to purchase a Xerox printer that used wax crayons instead of color ink or laser toner. It was a dream printer but when I decided to “retire”, it made no sense for me to keep it because of the high cost of the ‘crayons’.
My other ‘x’ word was added to my kitchen and dining table. I admit that I have always been a “sugar pig”, and I used xylitol as an alternate sweetener. It’s not as sweet as sugar but I tried it for a couple of years, in an effort to keep my weight under control. However, it didn’t last long, even though it was a natural sweetener. I didn’t like the taste, and decided I would do better by learning to eat LESS, rather than adding xylitol to my diet. Even though it took me almost a year to adjust my eating habits… learning to recognize the difference between being ‘satisfied’ and ‘being full’ finally worked for me.
My final comment in this blog is that neither word is no longer in my vocabulary or household. One I can’t afford, and the other I can’t enjoy!
Wordsmiths
First of all, did you know that the term ‘wordsmith’ is an English language word that was created in late 1800s to describe a person who works with words, and is especially a skillful writer. The word ‘skillful’ in the last sentence leaves me out; I’m not skilled but I love words. I talk a lot, at time too much, but I also remind myself that I need to listen to other people’s stories. They are very interesting too… well, most of them! I don’t like to listen to gossip, or bitter and unforgiving stories. If you haven’t visited my page, you will see for yourself that I am a lady of words. Drop by anytime!
Writing blogs has been a new experience for me, except for items that I have written to our family about some of our travel experiences. Family members don’t complain, and for all I know, they don’t read everything that I write. That’s their choice. When I first heard about the A to Z Blog Challenge, I told my friend that I wouldn’t be able to do it, but now, I’m almost at the end of my second round of blogs. Thank you for all the great comments that I have received. I have been hoping that others will start writing blogs. There are very clear guidelines at the top of the Blog page, written by the creators of NOTH, that are easy to follow. Everyone has a story to tell, some funny, some sad, some just every day experiences. If there are any “wordsmiths” here on The Hill, they don’t seem to be interested in participating. Their personal reasons are none of my business, but I mention it just to point out that none of us are ‘wordsmiths’, just people that are filled with stories that could be shared in this safe community.
Well, when will we write wonderful weekly wireless blogs? Nine ‘w’ words out of ten isn’t a bad effort!
Writing blogs has been a new experience for me, except for items that I have written to our family about some of our travel experiences. Family members don’t complain, and for all I know, they don’t read everything that I write. That’s their choice. When I first heard about the A to Z Blog Challenge, I told my friend that I wouldn’t be able to do it, but now, I’m almost at the end of my second round of blogs. Thank you for all the great comments that I have received. I have been hoping that others will start writing blogs. There are very clear guidelines at the top of the Blog page, written by the creators of NOTH, that are easy to follow. Everyone has a story to tell, some funny, some sad, some just every day experiences. If there are any “wordsmiths” here on The Hill, they don’t seem to be interested in participating. Their personal reasons are none of my business, but I mention it just to point out that none of us are ‘wordsmiths’, just people that are filled with stories that could be shared in this safe community.
Well, when will we write wonderful weekly wireless blogs? Nine ‘w’ words out of ten isn’t a bad effort!
Visiting Viking, Vulcan and Vermillion
There are three towns in Alberta, and two of them have become known worldwide for different reasons. Neither of them are near where we live, but we've visited both. Let me tell you about them.
Viking is a town in central Alberta, near the Alberta/Saskatchewan border. Anyone who is a hockey fan will have heard of the Sutter Family, one of the most famous families in the National Hockey League. Six brother reached the NHL as players, and several eventually went on to coach in the NHL. Brent and Darryl Sutter both coached the Calgary Flames, our home team. Darryl is now head coach of the Los Angeles Kings, and Brent has retired.
Vulcan is a prairie town in south central Alberta, between the cities of Calgary and Lethbridge. The town 'turned Trekkie' when the Star Trek television series was at its prime. The change began when several council members showed up wearing 'Spock Ears', just for the fun of it. It became a hit! Vulcan is now the home to the Official Star Trek Walk of Fame, and the host of the annual 'Trekkie' Convention. This town of 2000 people were honored to welcome Leonard Nimoy to their community in 2010. He had been encouraging Paramount Pictures to premier the showing of the new Star Trek movie in Viking, but there is no theater in town, so 300 residents traveled by bus to Calgary for the advanced screening of Star Trek XI in 2009. All this put Vulcan on the tourism map, a great boost in the economy of this "one-horse" prairie town. This is the Tourist Information Center.
The town name Vermilion comes from the red clay found in the river valley. In fact, one of the first businesses in Vermilion was the brick factory which operated from 1906 until 1914. Some Vermilion buildings built from brick from this factory are still standing. It is the home of Vermillion School of Agriculture and one of three demonstration farms in Alberta.
Viking is a town in central Alberta, near the Alberta/Saskatchewan border. Anyone who is a hockey fan will have heard of the Sutter Family, one of the most famous families in the National Hockey League. Six brother reached the NHL as players, and several eventually went on to coach in the NHL. Brent and Darryl Sutter both coached the Calgary Flames, our home team. Darryl is now head coach of the Los Angeles Kings, and Brent has retired.
Vulcan is a prairie town in south central Alberta, between the cities of Calgary and Lethbridge. The town 'turned Trekkie' when the Star Trek television series was at its prime. The change began when several council members showed up wearing 'Spock Ears', just for the fun of it. It became a hit! Vulcan is now the home to the Official Star Trek Walk of Fame, and the host of the annual 'Trekkie' Convention. This town of 2000 people were honored to welcome Leonard Nimoy to their community in 2010. He had been encouraging Paramount Pictures to premier the showing of the new Star Trek movie in Viking, but there is no theater in town, so 300 residents traveled by bus to Calgary for the advanced screening of Star Trek XI in 2009. All this put Vulcan on the tourism map, a great boost in the economy of this "one-horse" prairie town. This is the Tourist Information Center.
The town name Vermilion comes from the red clay found in the river valley. In fact, one of the first businesses in Vermilion was the brick factory which operated from 1906 until 1914. Some Vermilion buildings built from brick from this factory are still standing. It is the home of Vermillion School of Agriculture and one of three demonstration farms in Alberta.
Useless, Under-Used and Useful!
Years ago, I met a lady in Scottsdale, Arizona who did seminars on how to be a good household organizer; organize your purse, organize your kitchen, organize your closets, organize your shop, etc. I still remember some of her ideas. To give an example… if sorting through a closet or a room, have three boxes/baskets that are labeled, 'Put Away', 'Give Away' and 'Throw Away'. It works well and if you haven't heard of it before, it could help pass the time these days while spending a lot more time at home.
My husband and I have changed the categories a bit, when trying to “down-size” in my storeroom and his shop. The categories are 'Useless' (Why have I kept this for so long? It’s broken and/or useless), 'Under-Used' (I can’t remember the last time I’ve used this!), and 'Useful' (I’ll keep this, or if I don’t need this anymore, someone else could make good use of it.) Some things we have tried to sell, but most things are put in boxes, bags, or loaded in back of the van, to be donated to some charity like Salvation Army, Habitat for Humanity, or Value Village.
It is amazing how much stuff we have accumulated since the last time we moved. Added to that, we love to drop by garage sales, auction sales, or thrift shops when we have time, in case there is something that catches our attention.
It’s like going on a treasure hunt; we may find something that is so cheap that we can’t afford not to buy it!
My husband and I have changed the categories a bit, when trying to “down-size” in my storeroom and his shop. The categories are 'Useless' (Why have I kept this for so long? It’s broken and/or useless), 'Under-Used' (I can’t remember the last time I’ve used this!), and 'Useful' (I’ll keep this, or if I don’t need this anymore, someone else could make good use of it.) Some things we have tried to sell, but most things are put in boxes, bags, or loaded in back of the van, to be donated to some charity like Salvation Army, Habitat for Humanity, or Value Village.
It is amazing how much stuff we have accumulated since the last time we moved. Added to that, we love to drop by garage sales, auction sales, or thrift shops when we have time, in case there is something that catches our attention.
It’s like going on a treasure hunt; we may find something that is so cheap that we can’t afford not to buy it!
Tractors, Trucks, and Tools
I have heard so many stories about tractors and family traditions from my husband, and some of his friends gathered around our kitchen table on a coffee break. Even though I grew up on a farm, I have little to contribute to those conversations. I do remember the strange John Deere tractor, with the front wheels close together, that my father purchased the year before he decided that he had “enough” of mixed farming, and we moved to the city. He had been a cattle driver in the Cypress Hills, and his favorite saddle horse was still with us on the farm. He also had two teams of draft horses for farming. Those horses pulled the plow, the seeder, the binder, the hay rack… and the stone boat to take me to school in the winter.
And then there are the trucks. We have had one “job” truck, but nothing like the new truck that our son recently purchased. He even uses it when he is meeting with prospective real estate customers. There are so many “bells and whistles” in that truck; I don’t know where to start. It’s like his personal office on wheels. There are tools in that truck that require special courses to operate them properly. Bluetooth connection so that he can talk on the phone when he is driving (isn’t that included in the list of distracted driving rules?), GPS so he won’t get lost, radio to catch the news, CD player to listen to his favorite country music, front and back security cameras, in case he gets in a traffic situation that ends up in court (?). There are four passenger doors, so that he can drive with the whole family, or customers, in comfort. When I was invited to take a ride in the truck, I was grateful for the “booster handles”, or whatever they are called, to hoist myself UP into the cab. The view was great; we could look over the traffic in front of us, to plan ahead of time where we had to turn. I was told that it wasn’t all that necessary because the lady on the GPS would keep reminding us when to change lanes, how far till we turn off the road, and when we have arrived at our destination. She has an annoying voice, and the temptation is to turn her off, except we may get lost without her help.
Lastly, why did I have to mention the tools? When we stop at a Garage Sale, Auction Sale, Estate Sale, there needs to be tools available or he will stay in our van, while I walk around, looking for vintage glass and anything else that is so cheap, I can’t afford not to buy it. The tools are sorted, cleaned, and repair if needed, and counted. Gone are the days when if a hammer or screwdriver is needed, we ask the question, “Where is THE hammer; where is THE screwdriver?”, not where is the box of screwdrivers. Times have changed, haven’t they?
What about the tools in my kitchen? Don’t want to talk about it! I NEED all those tools; it depends on what I’m cooking! Now that I do less cooking and baking, I still have trouble getting rid of some favorite tools because I MAY need it again someday.
GIVE ME A BREAK!
And then there are the trucks. We have had one “job” truck, but nothing like the new truck that our son recently purchased. He even uses it when he is meeting with prospective real estate customers. There are so many “bells and whistles” in that truck; I don’t know where to start. It’s like his personal office on wheels. There are tools in that truck that require special courses to operate them properly. Bluetooth connection so that he can talk on the phone when he is driving (isn’t that included in the list of distracted driving rules?), GPS so he won’t get lost, radio to catch the news, CD player to listen to his favorite country music, front and back security cameras, in case he gets in a traffic situation that ends up in court (?). There are four passenger doors, so that he can drive with the whole family, or customers, in comfort. When I was invited to take a ride in the truck, I was grateful for the “booster handles”, or whatever they are called, to hoist myself UP into the cab. The view was great; we could look over the traffic in front of us, to plan ahead of time where we had to turn. I was told that it wasn’t all that necessary because the lady on the GPS would keep reminding us when to change lanes, how far till we turn off the road, and when we have arrived at our destination. She has an annoying voice, and the temptation is to turn her off, except we may get lost without her help.
Lastly, why did I have to mention the tools? When we stop at a Garage Sale, Auction Sale, Estate Sale, there needs to be tools available or he will stay in our van, while I walk around, looking for vintage glass and anything else that is so cheap, I can’t afford not to buy it. The tools are sorted, cleaned, and repair if needed, and counted. Gone are the days when if a hammer or screwdriver is needed, we ask the question, “Where is THE hammer; where is THE screwdriver?”, not where is the box of screwdrivers. Times have changed, haven’t they?
What about the tools in my kitchen? Don’t want to talk about it! I NEED all those tools; it depends on what I’m cooking! Now that I do less cooking and baking, I still have trouble getting rid of some favorite tools because I MAY need it again someday.
GIVE ME A BREAK!
Secret Sisters
When I was reading the most recent blog from Sherry, and thinking about her questions, it made me think of my experiences that developed through a ‘Secret Sister’ program, both in our church and in our kids’ school. Everyone who wanted to participate would write their name on a piece of paper, fold it at least a couple of times, and place it in some sort of container. Next, the container was passed around and everyone in turn would close their eyes or reach in the container that was held high above their head, to pull out a piece of paper. If you pulled out your own name, you returned it and selected another one. For the following year, we secretly investigated the person to learn her likes and dislikes, her birthday, and her favorite “anything”. We would send encouraging notes, a birthday card, get well cards, and occasionally a “just because” gift … anything to let her know that she was special. It was all very secretive, being very careful not to include anything that would give her a clue as to the identity of her “Secret Sister”. This ‘exercise’ terminated with a banquet, when we finally we able to introduce ourselves to our ‘sister’. I am still in touch with several of them.
We were also introduced to the concept of ‘Pen Pals’ when we were in school, writing letters and sending pictures to someone in another country. There are so many stories of ‘pen pals’ finally meeting face to face, even in their senior years. Their deep friendships began with an introductory letter.
The same experience can happen in Social Media, if we are open to it. It won’t happen if they keep their page ‘blocked’ to anyone who isn’t a friend. I will never forget the feeling that I had when a lady on my NOTH list of friends, who had been reading my postings of our travel experiences in eastern U.S., sent me a message to tell me that we were near her town, and if we had time, please stop in for a cup of tea and a chat face to face. The only thing she knew about me was that I live in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies, I am about the same age as she, and my given name is Mona. That could be a whole lot of people… but she still invited me. Unfortunately, our schedule didn’t make time for the visit, but I was so touched by the offer.
I have friends on NOTH from a number of countries I have never visited, and even though several have become much less active on The Hill due to personal reasons, we are still exchanging private messages. It feels like a sister that I never had, and we learn through time that we have more things in common. Can you imagine what it would be like if we hadn’t been honest in our initial contact? We would always be concerned that our stories matched.
By the way, I have also met some very nice guys here on The Hill, and have journeyed with them through some fun and tough times. I never had a brother either, so thanks for being my friend.
We were also introduced to the concept of ‘Pen Pals’ when we were in school, writing letters and sending pictures to someone in another country. There are so many stories of ‘pen pals’ finally meeting face to face, even in their senior years. Their deep friendships began with an introductory letter.
The same experience can happen in Social Media, if we are open to it. It won’t happen if they keep their page ‘blocked’ to anyone who isn’t a friend. I will never forget the feeling that I had when a lady on my NOTH list of friends, who had been reading my postings of our travel experiences in eastern U.S., sent me a message to tell me that we were near her town, and if we had time, please stop in for a cup of tea and a chat face to face. The only thing she knew about me was that I live in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies, I am about the same age as she, and my given name is Mona. That could be a whole lot of people… but she still invited me. Unfortunately, our schedule didn’t make time for the visit, but I was so touched by the offer.
I have friends on NOTH from a number of countries I have never visited, and even though several have become much less active on The Hill due to personal reasons, we are still exchanging private messages. It feels like a sister that I never had, and we learn through time that we have more things in common. Can you imagine what it would be like if we hadn’t been honest in our initial contact? We would always be concerned that our stories matched.
By the way, I have also met some very nice guys here on The Hill, and have journeyed with them through some fun and tough times. I never had a brother either, so thanks for being my friend.
Remembering my Residence Room
It was the last week in August, 1958 when I entered the School of Nursing. I experienced a mixture of happy anticipation and almost paralyzing nervousness as I rode in the back seat of my parents’ car. My best friend from middle school would be there. I had seen very little of her during our high school years because she attend a church school for her high school years. I had already decided that if we had to share a room with someone, it would have to be her because I didn’t know anyone else. I had always had my own bedroom because I was the only kid in my family… the dreaded “only child”! However, Mom told me to look on the bright side, because I’m going to gain a whole bunch of “sisters” at this school.
When we arrived at the Nurses’ Residence for our orientation, I wasn’t prepared for the crowd that was there. I later learned that there were 96 in my class, and all of us would be living in the new 10-storey Residence. We busily filled out our registration forms, introduced ourselves to others, and perused the information package, including our guidelines, lovingly referred to as the “Blue Book”. Finally, we were organized in groups of 20, for a tour of the building. We learned the routine of checking in and checking out of the Residence at the front desk, had a visit to the laundry room in the basement, complete with wringer washing machines and drying racks, and the PJ Lounge, next to the Laundry, where we could relax and watch TV.
Next, each of us was given a number and instructed to meet in the lobby on the second floor. It wasn’t until all of us were together that we were told the number indicated our assigned room number on either the first, second or third floor. Imagine my surprise when I opened the door to my own compact and furnished room. There was a single bed with a brown blanket/spread and a vinyl upholstered “thing” the same length of the bed, attached to the wall. It was a place to hide our pillows, and also a place to lean on when the bed became our sofa in the daytime. At the foot of the bed was a large cupboard with two large doors and one skinny door, all with locks. It was the clothes closet and bureau all in one cupboard. On the opposite wall was a chair at a desk with a lid, three drawers on one side and a sink on the other side. When the desk lid was lifted, there was a large mirror on the underside of the lid, and a shallow area to keep cosmetics, toiletries, and any other stuff we wished to keep out of sight.
Last but not least was a “push button” on the wall with a little area above that didn’t seem to have a function, until we were given a demonstration. It was for communication from the front desk. One buzz was to let us know there was a phone call on hold for us at the booth by the elevators; two buzzes indicated a visitor waiting for us in the lobby. If the little area above was white, there was a message for us at the front desk. This, most definitely, became the most important feature in our room, especially on date nights.
By the way, we didn’t have the same room for all three years of our training. Every year we had to move up three floors, so that the new students could move into the first three floors. When we were seniors, we were on the top three floors, with a great view of the city, but the closest to a stern Matron who had her apartment on the top floor. We had great respect for her, and also a generous dose of fear. To the day that 91 of us graduated, the “Blue Book” remained our behavior guide, and she did her very best to make sure that we followed the rules.
When we arrived at the Nurses’ Residence for our orientation, I wasn’t prepared for the crowd that was there. I later learned that there were 96 in my class, and all of us would be living in the new 10-storey Residence. We busily filled out our registration forms, introduced ourselves to others, and perused the information package, including our guidelines, lovingly referred to as the “Blue Book”. Finally, we were organized in groups of 20, for a tour of the building. We learned the routine of checking in and checking out of the Residence at the front desk, had a visit to the laundry room in the basement, complete with wringer washing machines and drying racks, and the PJ Lounge, next to the Laundry, where we could relax and watch TV.
Next, each of us was given a number and instructed to meet in the lobby on the second floor. It wasn’t until all of us were together that we were told the number indicated our assigned room number on either the first, second or third floor. Imagine my surprise when I opened the door to my own compact and furnished room. There was a single bed with a brown blanket/spread and a vinyl upholstered “thing” the same length of the bed, attached to the wall. It was a place to hide our pillows, and also a place to lean on when the bed became our sofa in the daytime. At the foot of the bed was a large cupboard with two large doors and one skinny door, all with locks. It was the clothes closet and bureau all in one cupboard. On the opposite wall was a chair at a desk with a lid, three drawers on one side and a sink on the other side. When the desk lid was lifted, there was a large mirror on the underside of the lid, and a shallow area to keep cosmetics, toiletries, and any other stuff we wished to keep out of sight.
Last but not least was a “push button” on the wall with a little area above that didn’t seem to have a function, until we were given a demonstration. It was for communication from the front desk. One buzz was to let us know there was a phone call on hold for us at the booth by the elevators; two buzzes indicated a visitor waiting for us in the lobby. If the little area above was white, there was a message for us at the front desk. This, most definitely, became the most important feature in our room, especially on date nights.
By the way, we didn’t have the same room for all three years of our training. Every year we had to move up three floors, so that the new students could move into the first three floors. When we were seniors, we were on the top three floors, with a great view of the city, but the closest to a stern Matron who had her apartment on the top floor. We had great respect for her, and also a generous dose of fear. To the day that 91 of us graduated, the “Blue Book” remained our behavior guide, and she did her very best to make sure that we followed the rules.
Quick Questions About Quebec
This may be a surprising topic, and I promise it won't be of a political nature. By the way, it's not easy to think of a topic that starts with ‘q’, as I endeavor to work my way through this A to Z Blog Challenge.
Here come the questions…
- What is a Quebecer? A bi-lingual person living in Quebec, the largest province in Canada
- Is it true that they only speak French in Quebec? No; French is their official language, but it is bilingual.
- Do I speak French? No; when I was in school, we were not required to study/learn French. I know less than a dozen words
- Is Quebec near where I live? No; we are at the opposite end of Canada.
- Have I ever been in Quebec? Yes; we took a road trip across Canada some years ago, and visited the cities of Montreal and Quebec City, and enjoyed beautiful rural areas on our way to the Maritimes.
- What did you do in Montreal?Rather than find our way around, at the risk of getting lost, we took a city bus tour. Highlights of the tour were visits to the Olympic Dome, the Underground Shopping Plaza, and the very entertaining bus driver who spoke English through the whole tour, for us “Westerners”!
- Did we have any problem because we couldn't speak French? Only one instance that I can recall when we thought we may have a problem, was at a gas station, when the Gas Attendant greeted us in French, which we didn't understand. When my husband responded in English, the Attendant smiled and said (in English), “Welcome to Quebec! Shall I fill ‘’er up?”
- What did you do in Quebec City? We walked the cobblestone streets of the Old City, and had lunch at Chateau Frontenac. We watched ships on the St. Lawrence River from the Plains of Abraham, and learned a lot about the history of Canada.
- Did we enjoy any particular food in Quebec? Montreal Smoked Beef and local Maple syrup.
- Would you ever go back for another visit? In a heartbeat, especially Quebec City. We would also like to see more of the rural areas, now that we know that most Quebecers can speak English.
People, Presents and a Potluck Party
Christmas has come and gone, and hopefully all of you have a fresh stash of pleasant memories. Hopefully, there will be more time for “computer fun” now. I am continuing on my personal A-Z Blog Challenge with this episode.
We all have our particular traditions of celebration, and 2016 Christmas took on a new form for us. Our celebrations continued for more than two weeks, and we enjoyed every minute of it, starting with the arrival of two families, relatives of my husband, from northern England. All but two of them had been with us before, and their preference is to come to Canada in the winter, to experience the snow in the Rocky Mountains. Their accommodations were in Banff National Park, about 50 km from our home. Downhill skiing, snowshoeing, ice skating at Lake Louise, and ‘tubing’ near us, were on their agenda. This year they experienced some very cold days, and driving in the fog at night was a challenge, especially with the steering wheel being on the “wrong” side of the cab!!!
Our granddaughter attending U of Victoria, and grandson, attending Capernwray Bible School, were home for a great Christmas break. Visits with family, catching up with their friends, and joining in activities with the Brits filled their days.
Christmas Day was at our home, and I was thankful for all the help. It was a Potluck Party because food was prepared in three different locations and served buffet-style. Sixteen people sat at two tables, enjoying roasted Alberta beef, as well as a traditional turkey with all the trimmings. For years, only the children in our family received Christmas gifts, and this was our first “all adult” Christmas. It was fun too, just having everyone at home. However, presents arrived from relatives back in England. Calendars from Yorkshire, lime marmalade and chocolates, Bassett Liquorice Allsorts and Licorice Cakes from Pontefract, and greeting cards and letters, all reminders of our times with them. Visiting in Pontefract was the only experience we’ve ever had of smelling licorice in the air.
With all the fun and laughter, our deep joy was in the celebration of the most precious gift of God’s Son, the Prince of Peace. For us, He is the real Reason for the Season!
We all have our particular traditions of celebration, and 2016 Christmas took on a new form for us. Our celebrations continued for more than two weeks, and we enjoyed every minute of it, starting with the arrival of two families, relatives of my husband, from northern England. All but two of them had been with us before, and their preference is to come to Canada in the winter, to experience the snow in the Rocky Mountains. Their accommodations were in Banff National Park, about 50 km from our home. Downhill skiing, snowshoeing, ice skating at Lake Louise, and ‘tubing’ near us, were on their agenda. This year they experienced some very cold days, and driving in the fog at night was a challenge, especially with the steering wheel being on the “wrong” side of the cab!!!
Our granddaughter attending U of Victoria, and grandson, attending Capernwray Bible School, were home for a great Christmas break. Visits with family, catching up with their friends, and joining in activities with the Brits filled their days.
Christmas Day was at our home, and I was thankful for all the help. It was a Potluck Party because food was prepared in three different locations and served buffet-style. Sixteen people sat at two tables, enjoying roasted Alberta beef, as well as a traditional turkey with all the trimmings. For years, only the children in our family received Christmas gifts, and this was our first “all adult” Christmas. It was fun too, just having everyone at home. However, presents arrived from relatives back in England. Calendars from Yorkshire, lime marmalade and chocolates, Bassett Liquorice Allsorts and Licorice Cakes from Pontefract, and greeting cards and letters, all reminders of our times with them. Visiting in Pontefract was the only experience we’ve ever had of smelling licorice in the air.
With all the fun and laughter, our deep joy was in the celebration of the most precious gift of God’s Son, the Prince of Peace. For us, He is the real Reason for the Season!
Only Oxfords
It may sound like a silly topic, but I’ve had almost a lifetime association with oxfords, not always by choice. It all began when I was seven years old.
Our family lived on a farm, in a beautiful valley near a flowing creek. Being an “only” child, my playmates were my dog, Spot, a coop full of chickens, and when he had time, my dad. He worked hard, maintaining a small herd of cows, and growing and harvesting grain crops.
The winter of 1947 is well remembered for the record amount of snow that year. We were snowbound in our valley, unable to get to my school, pick up our mail, shop for groceries, or go to church. It was a real treat for me when my dad would take me with him on his horse, on his tractor, or to visit with the neighbors. One morning, he surprised me with the announcement that he and I were going to go tobogganing. There was a great slope behind the barn and chicken house, and Dad and I pulled the toboggan right to the top. He sat on the toboggan and I sat between his legs, and we whizzed down the hill together several times. He kept telling me that I needed to pull the rope to steer the toboggan, so that we could glide between the two buildings and into the yard. Finally, it was my turn to go on my own. The first trip was great, the second one, not so great. I tried with all my strength to steer properly, but I crashed into the back of the chicken coop.
I don’t know how my dad got down the hill so fast, trying to catch up to me, but I sure was glad to see him when he picked me up from the snow. My feet and legs hurt so much, and Dad knew that he needed to take me back to the house, and get some help from my Mom. The only doctor that we knew was almost 20 miles from our farm, even if we could get out of the valley. Dad did the best he could, wrapping both feet with bandages made from a bed sheet, cut in strips. My parents didn’t allow me to walk for several weeks, and Mom got a pair of lace-up boots for me to wear when I went back to school. They were awful, and looked like boys boots, but I was given no choice. I don’t remember how long it took to get an order from the Sears catalog, but when the parcel arrived, I was introduced to my first pair of Oxfords.
We moved to the city the next year; my dad had his fill of farming and bad weather. Even though I tried very hard to persuade my Mom to let me wear some ‘city’ shoes, it wasn’t until my 12th birthday that I received my first pair of saddle oxford shoes. White leather with navy inserts… they were beautiful!
I don’t remember if I ever had a different style of shoe all through my school days, but I do remember looking forward to have my first job so that I could buy my own shoes. But… I was accepted into Nursing School, starting two months after my high school graduation, and nurses need to wear good shoes because of being on their feet for the whole shift. White oxfords, clean and polished, and inspected every day by our instructors or house mother.
I’m now a senior lady, and still walking without assistance. After surviving several fractures (ankles and legs), I am grateful for the one and only pair of shoes that I now own… OXFORDS! I am finally content … comfort over fashion has won my heart!
Our family lived on a farm, in a beautiful valley near a flowing creek. Being an “only” child, my playmates were my dog, Spot, a coop full of chickens, and when he had time, my dad. He worked hard, maintaining a small herd of cows, and growing and harvesting grain crops.
The winter of 1947 is well remembered for the record amount of snow that year. We were snowbound in our valley, unable to get to my school, pick up our mail, shop for groceries, or go to church. It was a real treat for me when my dad would take me with him on his horse, on his tractor, or to visit with the neighbors. One morning, he surprised me with the announcement that he and I were going to go tobogganing. There was a great slope behind the barn and chicken house, and Dad and I pulled the toboggan right to the top. He sat on the toboggan and I sat between his legs, and we whizzed down the hill together several times. He kept telling me that I needed to pull the rope to steer the toboggan, so that we could glide between the two buildings and into the yard. Finally, it was my turn to go on my own. The first trip was great, the second one, not so great. I tried with all my strength to steer properly, but I crashed into the back of the chicken coop.
I don’t know how my dad got down the hill so fast, trying to catch up to me, but I sure was glad to see him when he picked me up from the snow. My feet and legs hurt so much, and Dad knew that he needed to take me back to the house, and get some help from my Mom. The only doctor that we knew was almost 20 miles from our farm, even if we could get out of the valley. Dad did the best he could, wrapping both feet with bandages made from a bed sheet, cut in strips. My parents didn’t allow me to walk for several weeks, and Mom got a pair of lace-up boots for me to wear when I went back to school. They were awful, and looked like boys boots, but I was given no choice. I don’t remember how long it took to get an order from the Sears catalog, but when the parcel arrived, I was introduced to my first pair of Oxfords.
We moved to the city the next year; my dad had his fill of farming and bad weather. Even though I tried very hard to persuade my Mom to let me wear some ‘city’ shoes, it wasn’t until my 12th birthday that I received my first pair of saddle oxford shoes. White leather with navy inserts… they were beautiful!
I don’t remember if I ever had a different style of shoe all through my school days, but I do remember looking forward to have my first job so that I could buy my own shoes. But… I was accepted into Nursing School, starting two months after my high school graduation, and nurses need to wear good shoes because of being on their feet for the whole shift. White oxfords, clean and polished, and inspected every day by our instructors or house mother.
I’m now a senior lady, and still walking without assistance. After surviving several fractures (ankles and legs), I am grateful for the one and only pair of shoes that I now own… OXFORDS! I am finally content … comfort over fashion has won my heart!
NOTH Nonsense
There is a saying that "one can't see the forest for the trees". In my case, searching all over the place for an idea for the letter 'N', my next A-Z challenge. then my brain finally clicked into gear, and the 'N' was right here. We all know that NOTH isn't found in the dictionary, but we have learned what the acronym stands for. Hopefully it brings fond memories to mind. For me, I have been a member from the beginning of this site. It has been a lot of fun meeting new friends from many parts of the world, learning what is important in their lives, discovering some of their favorite things, and even some of their passions... family, religion, politics, to name a few.
There is also a lot of nonsense... stuff that makes us laugh and have fun, and stuff we've developed as a habit of nonsense. I love to laugh, and my favorite lady is 'Maxine'. She can be so full of nonsense that I can't imagine how the artist keeps going with his ideas. Often his new creations reflect current situations, which help us find a bright side to a mundane or serious occurrence in life. I also like her humor, without vulgar innuendos and offensive language.
The other kind of nonsense here on The Hill is the unrelenting 'nit picking' about a myriad of situations. There have been instances of members who have forgotten that they are a 'guest' of this social network, not the owner. Others seem to think that "my way or the highway" should work on The Hill too. That is such nonsense! We can learn from each other, show respect for another person's viewpoint, and be quick to apologize and to accept an apology for misunderstandings. And if you wish to meet new friends, don't block your page so that only those who are already your friends can see it. It's like inviting someone to come and meet you, and then keeping the door locked so they can't come in. This site is secure, and there are always staff who are watching for the occasional intruder, who are expelled without ceremony.
If you have been in this cyber committee for a long time, or have just joined us... remember, there are NO dumb questions! If you enjoy your computer but do not understand how to do something that you have seen other people do, here on The Hill, ASK for help. There is a list of Staff Helpers who volunteer on The Hill (I'm one of them), to help others and answer questions. We don't have all answers, but will help you find someone who can. We learn from each other, and the learning never stops. Join a group to meet others with similar interests, or to learn about something you have never heard about before. Try writing a blog about something that you have experienced in life or on The Hill. NOTH is a great Social Network... sort of a modern version of finding 'pen pals', like we did when we were in school.
There is also a lot of nonsense... stuff that makes us laugh and have fun, and stuff we've developed as a habit of nonsense. I love to laugh, and my favorite lady is 'Maxine'. She can be so full of nonsense that I can't imagine how the artist keeps going with his ideas. Often his new creations reflect current situations, which help us find a bright side to a mundane or serious occurrence in life. I also like her humor, without vulgar innuendos and offensive language.
The other kind of nonsense here on The Hill is the unrelenting 'nit picking' about a myriad of situations. There have been instances of members who have forgotten that they are a 'guest' of this social network, not the owner. Others seem to think that "my way or the highway" should work on The Hill too. That is such nonsense! We can learn from each other, show respect for another person's viewpoint, and be quick to apologize and to accept an apology for misunderstandings. And if you wish to meet new friends, don't block your page so that only those who are already your friends can see it. It's like inviting someone to come and meet you, and then keeping the door locked so they can't come in. This site is secure, and there are always staff who are watching for the occasional intruder, who are expelled without ceremony.
If you have been in this cyber committee for a long time, or have just joined us... remember, there are NO dumb questions! If you enjoy your computer but do not understand how to do something that you have seen other people do, here on The Hill, ASK for help. There is a list of Staff Helpers who volunteer on The Hill (I'm one of them), to help others and answer questions. We don't have all answers, but will help you find someone who can. We learn from each other, and the learning never stops. Join a group to meet others with similar interests, or to learn about something you have never heard about before. Try writing a blog about something that you have experienced in life or on The Hill. NOTH is a great Social Network... sort of a modern version of finding 'pen pals', like we did when we were in school.
Makeup
I've never been very enthusiastic about Halloween. In my younger years, I did take part in some friendly “trick or treat” visits to the neighbors, and I remember that we were requested to sing a song or recite a poem before we were invited to open our ‘pillowcase’ sacks and accept their treat. Many of the treats were made in the neighbor’s kitchen, but there was no fear of razor blades or drugs hidden in the treat. By the time our children were old enough to dress up, they wore masks of their choosing, suitably coordinated with their selected character costume. About the scariest costume was being a ghost, but other ideas were to be a butterfly, a cowboy, a fireman, a princess, but no vampires!
Our granddaughter, who is studying fine arts at university, has been learning make-up techniques, has been posting some of her projects, and that broke the “brain-cramp” that I’ve been experiencing in my A-Z Alphabet Challenge. We have been surprised that she has been doing so well, because make-up wasn’t a big issue with her during her high school years.
Rather than write a lengthy wordy blog, I will let the pictures do the talking for me.
Our granddaughter, who is studying fine arts at university, has been learning make-up techniques, has been posting some of her projects, and that broke the “brain-cramp” that I’ve been experiencing in my A-Z Alphabet Challenge. We have been surprised that she has been doing so well, because make-up wasn’t a big issue with her during her high school years.
Rather than write a lengthy wordy blog, I will let the pictures do the talking for me.
Loving Life Laced with Laughter
When was the last time that you had a real good, noisy “belly” laugh? For the ladies, that may be a bit of a stretch, so call it something else. Call it uncontrolled laughter, that keeps sneaking back to your head, and the it starts all over again. We had a bunch of those in May of this year, at the 55th Class Reunion of my nursing class.
I love to have fun, help put a smile on someone’s face, and at times, just be silly! There are a few things on my page where my “personality” has leaked out. But I must ask, “Who thinks that the comics of today are better than “the good old days”? There were comics in our much younger days who didn’t have to say anything, and we would laugh. Their facial expressions were priceless. My list includes Tim Conway, Red Skelton, Lucille Ball, Bob Hope, and Lily Tomlin. I remember standing with school friends at the window of the local lumber yard to watch Lucy on the TV set up in the window (we never had a TV in our home), and even without sound, we were often in hysterics. After I was married, there were programs that my husband and I rarely missed; Carol Burnett Show, Ed Sullivan Show, and the now “politically incorrect” All In The Family, were just a few. Now, it seems almost mandatory to include ‘four-letter’ words (aka ‘bathroom words’) to be considered funny. Give me a break!
I just celebrated my 76th year on this planet. To me, that doesn’t seem like such a long time; time goes so quickly. It’s our 53+ year old son and our granddaughter who is 22 that reminds me that I’m still “not over the Hill” but getting close to it. My dear mother passed away in her 65th year and I thought she was an old lady! Now, what does that make me? No need to send me your answer!!!!
I recently read a couple of books by Phil Callaway, who grew up in the town where I had my first job as a registered nurse. I heard him speak at a special event at the church we attended, and I loved his sense of humor. Even though he did plant some wonderful thoughts in his presentation, he was able to do it in such a way, that made it easy to remember for a long time. The first book I read was, “Who Put The Skunk In The Trunk? Learning to Laugh When Life Stinks”. I also read the revised version, entitled “Who Put My Life on Fast-Forward?” How To Slow Down & Start Living Again. They are all available on Amazon, if you are interested. His books are filled with “Wrinkle Busters”, and if any of my readers have a few wrinkles, I close with several samples...
Classified ad:
“An unexpected vacancy for a knife-thrower’s assistant:
Rehearsals start immediately.”
..........
Newspaper ad: “Extremely independent male, 17 years old,
Needs to rent room. Call his mother as ....”
..........
Advertisement: “Try our cough syrup,
You will never get any better.”
..........
Child to mother after school,
“Our new teacher taught us all about fossils.
Before she came to class, I didn’t know what a fossil looked like.”
..........
I love to have fun, help put a smile on someone’s face, and at times, just be silly! There are a few things on my page where my “personality” has leaked out. But I must ask, “Who thinks that the comics of today are better than “the good old days”? There were comics in our much younger days who didn’t have to say anything, and we would laugh. Their facial expressions were priceless. My list includes Tim Conway, Red Skelton, Lucille Ball, Bob Hope, and Lily Tomlin. I remember standing with school friends at the window of the local lumber yard to watch Lucy on the TV set up in the window (we never had a TV in our home), and even without sound, we were often in hysterics. After I was married, there were programs that my husband and I rarely missed; Carol Burnett Show, Ed Sullivan Show, and the now “politically incorrect” All In The Family, were just a few. Now, it seems almost mandatory to include ‘four-letter’ words (aka ‘bathroom words’) to be considered funny. Give me a break!
I just celebrated my 76th year on this planet. To me, that doesn’t seem like such a long time; time goes so quickly. It’s our 53+ year old son and our granddaughter who is 22 that reminds me that I’m still “not over the Hill” but getting close to it. My dear mother passed away in her 65th year and I thought she was an old lady! Now, what does that make me? No need to send me your answer!!!!
I recently read a couple of books by Phil Callaway, who grew up in the town where I had my first job as a registered nurse. I heard him speak at a special event at the church we attended, and I loved his sense of humor. Even though he did plant some wonderful thoughts in his presentation, he was able to do it in such a way, that made it easy to remember for a long time. The first book I read was, “Who Put The Skunk In The Trunk? Learning to Laugh When Life Stinks”. I also read the revised version, entitled “Who Put My Life on Fast-Forward?” How To Slow Down & Start Living Again. They are all available on Amazon, if you are interested. His books are filled with “Wrinkle Busters”, and if any of my readers have a few wrinkles, I close with several samples...
Classified ad:
“An unexpected vacancy for a knife-thrower’s assistant:
Rehearsals start immediately.”
..........
Newspaper ad: “Extremely independent male, 17 years old,
Needs to rent room. Call his mother as ....”
..........
Advertisement: “Try our cough syrup,
You will never get any better.”
..........
Child to mother after school,
“Our new teacher taught us all about fossils.
Before she came to class, I didn’t know what a fossil looked like.”
..........
Kilometers and Kilograms
I enjoyed writing blogs on NOTH some months ago, but circumstances this summer limited me to short visits on The Hill, and any other place on my computer. I guess I needed to be reminded that there are times when life circumstances, not involving computers, need to be moved to the top of our “priority” list.
Members who have followed the A-Z Blog Challenge, may remember that I was working on the first round of the challenge. I must admit that the letter ‘K’ was a challenge the first time around, and the same letter became the same challenge in this round. Earlier this summer, while doing a bit of traveling, the idea for this blog just dropped in. My husband asked if I could figure out what kind of mileage we were getting on the trip. That’s not a simple exercise, particularly for our generation. Our education was based on the Imperial system of measurement, and to think in terms of “miles per gallon”, not “kilometers per liter”. We also have trouble picturing a trip of 73 kilometers. How long will it take to travel that distance? We travel at 70 miles per hour, so the trip will take us about an hour, but travelling 73 kilometers is a different story, because one kilometer is 0.621371 of a mile, or 1 mile is 1.609344 kilometers. I need a calculator to get an answer that both of us can understand. When we visit our daughter who lives in the U.S., and we ask how far it is to a certain destination, she tells us how long it will take to get there. What if we drive ‘under’ or ‘over’ the speed limit? What time will we arrive if we stop of an ice cream cone, or a ‘call of nature’?
If the weatherman reports that an expected snow storm is coming our way, with winds up to 120 km per hour, the quickest way to picture what is coming is to stick my finger in the air and feel the wind! Go figure! About the only time I really like a metric answer is when I’m told that I weigh 73.9 kilograms instead of 163 pounds. It makes me feel much lighter!
Members who have followed the A-Z Blog Challenge, may remember that I was working on the first round of the challenge. I must admit that the letter ‘K’ was a challenge the first time around, and the same letter became the same challenge in this round. Earlier this summer, while doing a bit of traveling, the idea for this blog just dropped in. My husband asked if I could figure out what kind of mileage we were getting on the trip. That’s not a simple exercise, particularly for our generation. Our education was based on the Imperial system of measurement, and to think in terms of “miles per gallon”, not “kilometers per liter”. We also have trouble picturing a trip of 73 kilometers. How long will it take to travel that distance? We travel at 70 miles per hour, so the trip will take us about an hour, but travelling 73 kilometers is a different story, because one kilometer is 0.621371 of a mile, or 1 mile is 1.609344 kilometers. I need a calculator to get an answer that both of us can understand. When we visit our daughter who lives in the U.S., and we ask how far it is to a certain destination, she tells us how long it will take to get there. What if we drive ‘under’ or ‘over’ the speed limit? What time will we arrive if we stop of an ice cream cone, or a ‘call of nature’?
If the weatherman reports that an expected snow storm is coming our way, with winds up to 120 km per hour, the quickest way to picture what is coming is to stick my finger in the air and feel the wind! Go figure! About the only time I really like a metric answer is when I’m told that I weigh 73.9 kilograms instead of 163 pounds. It makes me feel much lighter!
Meet Janet, John and Jose!
Back to my personal “second-time around” A - Z Blog Challenge! For those of you who have visited my page, and the other one it is linked to, will know of some of my favorite things. The three people I want to introduce, certainly fit in one of my favorite categories.
Janet Paschal is most often considered to be an inspirational and southern gospel singer, and has become a regular on the Gaither Homecoming Concert Series. For years, I have been a fan of Bill Gaither, and when the southern gospel concert came to our city, we attended with friends, and sang along with many of the songs. Even though we had heard Janet sing in videos and CDs, it was the first time we heard her sing in person, and I loved her music. There are many videos of her music on YouTube, and this is one of my favorite videos…
Get your own valid XHTML YouTube embed code
John Rutter, as reported by a BBC Music magazine, is the most successful and well-known composer of choral music in recent British history. Having studied classical music for piano and organ, and sang in a church choir during my teen and early twenties, I developed a love of classical music. Rutter’s music is frequently performed around the world, and widely recorded under various labels. The Cambridge Singers have performed many of his compositions, and his setting of Psalm 150, commissioned for the Queen's Golden Jubilee, was performed at the Service of Thanksgiving in St Paul's Cathedral, London. As for classical music, he’s #1 in my opinion.
I recently learned that Rutter’s long-awaited new major work The Gift of Life has been released, and available on Amazon. I hope to soon add it to my collection. As described online, it “is a six-movement choral celebration of the living earth, of creation, and of life itself, offering a kaleidoscope of moods from contemplative and prayerful to majestic and inspirational. Seven more recordings of recent pieces by him complete the disc.
Here is a sample of his music performed for for the Royal family.
Get your own valid XHTML YouTube embed code
José Montserrate Feliciano GarcÃa, better known simply as José Feliciano, is a Puerto Rican virtuoso guitarist, singer, and composer known for many international hits. I have listened to his guitar music since the ‘60s, and he’s still going strong. Latin music has again been introduced to us this past year, since we have a boarder who is from South America. The rhythm of the guitar, brass, and drums is almost addictive. Song like California Dreaming, and Light My Fire are still favorites, but here is a more recent YouTube, recorded in 2012 that still has appeal to me.
Get your own valid XHTML YouTube embed code
With the variety of music styles in my musical library (gospel, classical, Latin, jazz, country), the very best that remains, is the music in my heart that continues every day even if I can’t hold a tune well now. Music is the expression in my heart of the joy I receive from my Lord and Savior, JESUS!
Janet Paschal is most often considered to be an inspirational and southern gospel singer, and has become a regular on the Gaither Homecoming Concert Series. For years, I have been a fan of Bill Gaither, and when the southern gospel concert came to our city, we attended with friends, and sang along with many of the songs. Even though we had heard Janet sing in videos and CDs, it was the first time we heard her sing in person, and I loved her music. There are many videos of her music on YouTube, and this is one of my favorite videos…
Get your own valid XHTML YouTube embed code
John Rutter, as reported by a BBC Music magazine, is the most successful and well-known composer of choral music in recent British history. Having studied classical music for piano and organ, and sang in a church choir during my teen and early twenties, I developed a love of classical music. Rutter’s music is frequently performed around the world, and widely recorded under various labels. The Cambridge Singers have performed many of his compositions, and his setting of Psalm 150, commissioned for the Queen's Golden Jubilee, was performed at the Service of Thanksgiving in St Paul's Cathedral, London. As for classical music, he’s #1 in my opinion.
I recently learned that Rutter’s long-awaited new major work The Gift of Life has been released, and available on Amazon. I hope to soon add it to my collection. As described online, it “is a six-movement choral celebration of the living earth, of creation, and of life itself, offering a kaleidoscope of moods from contemplative and prayerful to majestic and inspirational. Seven more recordings of recent pieces by him complete the disc.
Here is a sample of his music performed for for the Royal family.
Get your own valid XHTML YouTube embed code
José Montserrate Feliciano GarcÃa, better known simply as José Feliciano, is a Puerto Rican virtuoso guitarist, singer, and composer known for many international hits. I have listened to his guitar music since the ‘60s, and he’s still going strong. Latin music has again been introduced to us this past year, since we have a boarder who is from South America. The rhythm of the guitar, brass, and drums is almost addictive. Song like California Dreaming, and Light My Fire are still favorites, but here is a more recent YouTube, recorded in 2012 that still has appeal to me.
Get your own valid XHTML YouTube embed code
With the variety of music styles in my musical library (gospel, classical, Latin, jazz, country), the very best that remains, is the music in my heart that continues every day even if I can’t hold a tune well now. Music is the expression in my heart of the joy I receive from my Lord and Savior, JESUS!
Installing the Internet
It has been quite a week, just in time for my next blog in my second round of the A to Z Blog Challenge. Most of my friends know that we live in a rural area, and we lack some of the “amenities” of those living in the city. Our Internet service has been slower than slow, but in spite of that fact, the company has insisted for years that 0.02 to 2.1 ghrz download speed is average, and worthy of their charges for “high-speed” Internet service. They will not upgrade any equipment until there are at least 200 new homes in our area, because they can’t afford it. Who are they trying to fool?
Two weeks ago, we learned that Costco has set up kiosks in their stores for the internet company, Primas. They were offering packages of VOIP phones and Internet service with a list of added services, at a much lower monthly rate than what we have been paying. We investigated as best we could, and even though they use the same installed equipment owned by Telus, the offer guaranteed a better service, and their monthly charge was certainly cheaper than our long-term “only” service in our area. We signed on the dotted line… and then the fun began.
Telus wants us to call them to discuss our reason for leaving their "wonderful" service. That’s not going to happen; they’ve had many opportunities to improve their service. Primas booked a technician to come to our home to insure a correct installation, and he arrived several days before the modems were delivered in the mail. When Telus migrated our telephone number to Primas, it was three days after their email message was sent to us, removing themselves from any association to our account. We did manage to keep our phone number, but when we used the phone, we could hear our callers “loud and clear”, but the caller could not hear us over the static noise on the line, and the continuing disconnects during a call.
I have become on a first name basis with “customer service” this week, all with different ideas on how to resolve the problems. Promised follow-up calls were not received by us, and the only timetable that was of any value, were those of the phone company. Yikes!
Today, we expected lunch guests from out of town, so in the middle of yet another “repair session”, I requested the technician to call me back in the afternoon because of previous plans in our home. He agreed, but we never did hear from him. HOWEVER, we received a phone call from a business associate during our meal, and the transmission worked perfectly. Somebody had found the problem, we presume!!!!
You should hear the opinions expressed by my husband, a former telephone technician fifty years ago. He still insists that the service then was much more reliable and simple in the “old days”, when we used those fancy dial phones. But… this generation is ‘hooked’ on the huge variety of electronics.
The Internet has become indispensable!
Two weeks ago, we learned that Costco has set up kiosks in their stores for the internet company, Primas. They were offering packages of VOIP phones and Internet service with a list of added services, at a much lower monthly rate than what we have been paying. We investigated as best we could, and even though they use the same installed equipment owned by Telus, the offer guaranteed a better service, and their monthly charge was certainly cheaper than our long-term “only” service in our area. We signed on the dotted line… and then the fun began.
Telus wants us to call them to discuss our reason for leaving their "wonderful" service. That’s not going to happen; they’ve had many opportunities to improve their service. Primas booked a technician to come to our home to insure a correct installation, and he arrived several days before the modems were delivered in the mail. When Telus migrated our telephone number to Primas, it was three days after their email message was sent to us, removing themselves from any association to our account. We did manage to keep our phone number, but when we used the phone, we could hear our callers “loud and clear”, but the caller could not hear us over the static noise on the line, and the continuing disconnects during a call.
I have become on a first name basis with “customer service” this week, all with different ideas on how to resolve the problems. Promised follow-up calls were not received by us, and the only timetable that was of any value, were those of the phone company. Yikes!
Today, we expected lunch guests from out of town, so in the middle of yet another “repair session”, I requested the technician to call me back in the afternoon because of previous plans in our home. He agreed, but we never did hear from him. HOWEVER, we received a phone call from a business associate during our meal, and the transmission worked perfectly. Somebody had found the problem, we presume!!!!
You should hear the opinions expressed by my husband, a former telephone technician fifty years ago. He still insists that the service then was much more reliable and simple in the “old days”, when we used those fancy dial phones. But… this generation is ‘hooked’ on the huge variety of electronics.
The Internet has become indispensable!
Halva, Holly and Hazelnuts
Christmas is now in our past, and we are ready to take on 2016, filled with adventure, new challenges, some trying times and some happy times. My blog this time is from Christmases past for me. I will try to be brief, but you may know how good that works.
When our family was on the farm, my father’s favorite Christmas treat was Halva, a Ukrainian treat made with Sunflower Seeds. I must admit that it wasn’t a favorite treat for me. It stuck to the roof of my mouth. It always was packed in a tin box, and our storekeeper would make sure that there was a box put aside for my dad. I wish I could find such a tin box now for my collection. I need to start checking on Ebay again.
Holly brings back memories of the Christmas family vacations we had in southern California. My husband was a Realtor, and business dramatically slowed in December, so it was an ideal time to take a family vacation. Our children traveled with us until they graduated from high school, so we would arranged to leave the day after their final exam before Christmas break. It was a different Christmas experience… no extended family, no snow, and no Santa Claus. Our children knew that all the things we did in California (visits to Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm, San Diego Wild Animal Park, Magic Mountain) were their Christmas presents. When they were teenagers, they could invite a friend to come with us because we traveled in a van that had lots of room for growing teens and extra luggage. We didn’t have a Christmas tree (a silver tinsel or white plastic tree just didn’t cut it for us), but we could decorate with real holly that grew in the backyard of our friends in Palm Spring. We picked oranges and lemons from the trees, and fresh dates were a special treat.
Hazelnuts reminds me of the ever-available bowl of a variety of nuts, all in the shell. Hazelnuts were my favorite, but there were also walnuts, almonds, cashews, pecans, peanuts, and Brazil nuts. There were nutcrackers in the bowl with the nuts, and the broken shells were usually left in the bowl too, eventually making it necessary to sift through everything to find a nut that still have the seed in it. I’ve heard people say that they much prefer a container of mixed nuts that are shelled, roasted, and even caramelized, because the shells are so messy. For me, much of the fun has been thrown away with the shells.
Happy, happy 2016 to each of you!
When our family was on the farm, my father’s favorite Christmas treat was Halva, a Ukrainian treat made with Sunflower Seeds. I must admit that it wasn’t a favorite treat for me. It stuck to the roof of my mouth. It always was packed in a tin box, and our storekeeper would make sure that there was a box put aside for my dad. I wish I could find such a tin box now for my collection. I need to start checking on Ebay again.
Holly brings back memories of the Christmas family vacations we had in southern California. My husband was a Realtor, and business dramatically slowed in December, so it was an ideal time to take a family vacation. Our children traveled with us until they graduated from high school, so we would arranged to leave the day after their final exam before Christmas break. It was a different Christmas experience… no extended family, no snow, and no Santa Claus. Our children knew that all the things we did in California (visits to Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm, San Diego Wild Animal Park, Magic Mountain) were their Christmas presents. When they were teenagers, they could invite a friend to come with us because we traveled in a van that had lots of room for growing teens and extra luggage. We didn’t have a Christmas tree (a silver tinsel or white plastic tree just didn’t cut it for us), but we could decorate with real holly that grew in the backyard of our friends in Palm Spring. We picked oranges and lemons from the trees, and fresh dates were a special treat.
Hazelnuts reminds me of the ever-available bowl of a variety of nuts, all in the shell. Hazelnuts were my favorite, but there were also walnuts, almonds, cashews, pecans, peanuts, and Brazil nuts. There were nutcrackers in the bowl with the nuts, and the broken shells were usually left in the bowl too, eventually making it necessary to sift through everything to find a nut that still have the seed in it. I’ve heard people say that they much prefer a container of mixed nuts that are shelled, roasted, and even caramelized, because the shells are so messy. For me, much of the fun has been thrown away with the shells.
Happy, happy 2016 to each of you!
Gooseberries, Goldenrod, and a Gaggle of Geese
When it comes time for me to think about a topic for my next blog in this A to Z Challenge, I often get out old photograph albums for some ideas. I love to read blogs written by others who write about their experiences, both current and in times past. I'm hoping that my cyber friend living in New Zealand will write to tell us how they celebrate Christmas without snow, and what Santa wears and travels in when it is hot outside. I'd love to visit New Zealand, but so far, that destination is still on our 'bucket list'.
Now, to expand on my topic today. My mother was an avid gardener; a learned ability necessity when she was growing up in a large immigrant family. We all loved the jam that she made with the wild gooseberries that we picked in the valley behind our farm house. The berries could be quite tart, if we picked them too early, and she didn't add much sugar when preparing the jam because there were times when sugar was scarce and there was a shortage of money. She learned to work with what she had, not always following the recipe.
She also learned some tricks from my father because he also made do with what was available when he was a 'cattle driver'. He had learned to enjoy cooked goldenrod, which grew wild in abundance on the prairies. The flowers could also be eaten raw, and that now makes me think of broccoli. I had never eaten raw broccoli until the last few years (introduced by our daughter who is a great and adventurous cook), and I now much prefer it served in a salad instead of from a steamer.
Lastly, my parents always seemed to have a gaggle of geese; seems they enjoyed roasted goose meals on special occasions. All I remember is that it was a greasy meat, and for me the best part was the crispy skin. If my memory about that is correct, I wouldn't go near that kind of meat now. We are even told now that beef isn't good for us, but we would be run out of the neighborhood if we believed that nonsense. Even the avid bird hunters in Alberta who like to bag geese, but don't eat much now because it is too fatty and the ponds where the birds feed are becoming more and more polluted.
As for the gaggle of geese when I was a child, I was always told to carry a stick when I walked to the chicken coop to play, or to the corral to pet the horses. The gander was often cranky and would try to chase and nip me, and I would need to defend myself with the stick. A good whack would change his attitude quite quickly.
Now, to expand on my topic today. My mother was an avid gardener; a learned ability necessity when she was growing up in a large immigrant family. We all loved the jam that she made with the wild gooseberries that we picked in the valley behind our farm house. The berries could be quite tart, if we picked them too early, and she didn't add much sugar when preparing the jam because there were times when sugar was scarce and there was a shortage of money. She learned to work with what she had, not always following the recipe.
She also learned some tricks from my father because he also made do with what was available when he was a 'cattle driver'. He had learned to enjoy cooked goldenrod, which grew wild in abundance on the prairies. The flowers could also be eaten raw, and that now makes me think of broccoli. I had never eaten raw broccoli until the last few years (introduced by our daughter who is a great and adventurous cook), and I now much prefer it served in a salad instead of from a steamer.
Lastly, my parents always seemed to have a gaggle of geese; seems they enjoyed roasted goose meals on special occasions. All I remember is that it was a greasy meat, and for me the best part was the crispy skin. If my memory about that is correct, I wouldn't go near that kind of meat now. We are even told now that beef isn't good for us, but we would be run out of the neighborhood if we believed that nonsense. Even the avid bird hunters in Alberta who like to bag geese, but don't eat much now because it is too fatty and the ponds where the birds feed are becoming more and more polluted.
As for the gaggle of geese when I was a child, I was always told to carry a stick when I walked to the chicken coop to play, or to the corral to pet the horses. The gander was often cranky and would try to chase and nip me, and I would need to defend myself with the stick. A good whack would change his attitude quite quickly.
Family Fly Fisherman
We were hearing a lot of things about the young man our daughter met at Seattle Pacific University. She had come home for the summer to earn some money, and it wasn't surprising when she told us that David was coming for a visit. They had a long distance friendship for several years; he traveling in Europe after graduation, she lived in Washington, then he came back to university in New York and she returned to Canada. His home was in southern Washington, and he had never been to our area of Canada, and we were quite sure he wasn't coming to experience the weather or take sightseeing trips to the mountains.
When he arrived, we wondered why he was so fascinated by our location and the view of the river valley, repeatedly referring to the river as the 'blue ribbon Bow'. When we asked why he gave it that name, he explained that he had read about it in his father's Fly Fishing magazines since he was a small boy. Along with his father and older brother, they hoped that someday they would have the bragging rights to show their friends that they had caught at least one trout in the Bow.
Being that we had no leanings toward fishing (we rarely even ate fish because we live in beef-raising country), we did some phoning to friends who may be willing to take our visitor for a day of fly fishing. A friend from our church was pleased to have a fishing companion for a day, and even rented a fly fishing river boat. We made 'big points' with our future son-in-law that day! He was well-equipped for the experience... Camera, measuring tape, a borrowed fishing rod and slicker, in case it rained, and a huge smile on his face.
One more thing we learned about this fine young man... He is FORGETFUL! The day he was returning home, he realized, when they arrived at the airport which is 45 miles from our home, he had left his ticket in our guest room. That's another story!
When he arrived, we wondered why he was so fascinated by our location and the view of the river valley, repeatedly referring to the river as the 'blue ribbon Bow'. When we asked why he gave it that name, he explained that he had read about it in his father's Fly Fishing magazines since he was a small boy. Along with his father and older brother, they hoped that someday they would have the bragging rights to show their friends that they had caught at least one trout in the Bow.
Being that we had no leanings toward fishing (we rarely even ate fish because we live in beef-raising country), we did some phoning to friends who may be willing to take our visitor for a day of fly fishing. A friend from our church was pleased to have a fishing companion for a day, and even rented a fly fishing river boat. We made 'big points' with our future son-in-law that day! He was well-equipped for the experience... Camera, measuring tape, a borrowed fishing rod and slicker, in case it rained, and a huge smile on his face.
One more thing we learned about this fine young man... He is FORGETFUL! The day he was returning home, he realized, when they arrived at the airport which is 45 miles from our home, he had left his ticket in our guest room. That's another story!
E-Mails and E-Books
When I received my first computer, there was no such thing as an email or an eBook; I hadn't even heard the terms before. I had enough trouble identifying with a machine that looked like a typewriter but worked on its own with no need to press 'return' (on my electric typewriter), or grab the handle to move to the next line on my high school typewriter. It was fast too, typing 17 characters per second. The idea of being able to communicate with family and friends in another province or country, or even a different continent was just too unreal. I didn't even need to lick a stamp or walk to the mailbox or post office to send a note on its way, and I could receive a reply in a very short time, sometimes even the same day.
There were many improvements to computer equipment over the next few years... daisy wheel and dot matrix printers have come and gone, then ink jet printers moved to toner, then to wax printers, all of which I have used in my work and leisure time. Penmanship has become almost a lost art. I lost count of how many times my teacher in Elementary School would tap my writing hand with her ruler to remind me to stop writing "backhanded". She would encourage her students to be diligent in their efforts to improve their writing skills so that they could have their submissions entered into the competition to at Calgary Stampede accepted and displayed publicly, and possibly win a prize.
In just the last few years, we were introduced to eBooks that make a whole personal library fit in a handbag or briefcase. As always, there are varying opinions about them. Many people love to hold a 'real' book with paper pages where notes can be handwritten in the margins, and some claim to miss the smell of a book. They've lost me there. Convenience trumps odors for me every time!
There were many improvements to computer equipment over the next few years... daisy wheel and dot matrix printers have come and gone, then ink jet printers moved to toner, then to wax printers, all of which I have used in my work and leisure time. Penmanship has become almost a lost art. I lost count of how many times my teacher in Elementary School would tap my writing hand with her ruler to remind me to stop writing "backhanded". She would encourage her students to be diligent in their efforts to improve their writing skills so that they could have their submissions entered into the competition to at Calgary Stampede accepted and displayed publicly, and possibly win a prize.
In just the last few years, we were introduced to eBooks that make a whole personal library fit in a handbag or briefcase. As always, there are varying opinions about them. Many people love to hold a 'real' book with paper pages where notes can be handwritten in the margins, and some claim to miss the smell of a book. They've lost me there. Convenience trumps odors for me every time!
Documents, Durham & Dainty Dinah
My husband’s father was 19 years old when he emigrated to Canada from Chester-le-Street, a village near Durham in Northern England. He traveled on a cargo ship from Liverpool, England to Halifax, Nova Scotia, then continued west by train, looking for homestead land. He had studied Animal Husbandry in England, and thought the only job he would ever enjoy would to be a farmer.
He eventually settle in the province of Saskatch-ewan, met a lovely French lady, and soon had three sons. In his personal documents, which we now carefully care for, was a baptism certificate from Durham Cathedral and records that showed that his father was a sweets salesman for Dainty Dinah. The journal that Fred kept as he journeyed to his new homeland was in a writing book with a distinctive colored hardcover. The entries often were very brief, and the last entry was posted on the day that he received the documents, confirming his ownership of his homestead.
He didn’t talk much about his home in Great Britain, so the family knew very little about his British family. We actually came to our “uninformed” conclusion that he probably was a Remittance Man. I checked Wikipedia for a definition, and this definition is exactly what I heard from his Canadian family;
Within Victorian British culture, this often meant the black sheep of an upper or middle-class family who was sent away (from the United Kingdom to the Empire), and paid to stay away. These men were generally of dissolute or drunken character, and may have been sent overseas after one or more disgraces at home. "Remittance men" also lived in several towns in the American and Canadian West. There were also remittance women' but they are rarely discussed in scholarly works. Many remittance men were sent to the Australian Colonies.
After meeting Dad’s sister, a retired Army nurse, who came to live with Dad, we were anxious to travel to England to meet more relatives for the first time. At one family gathering, a cousin came to our table and handed several small books to Ed, saying that it was time these books returned to their Canadian family. The books had the same cover as Dad’s journal, and we were told that they contained copies of letters that Dad had received from his father, offering help and support to his oldest son. The onion skin pages were fragile and faded, but we eventually were able to reproduce the writings to computer files, so that they could be shared with Ed’s brothers and their families. We also learned that the books were actually order books that included the onion skin and carbon paper for order copies from Dainty Dinah Sweets Company, the company where Ed’s grandfather worked for many years. I am including a couple of photos; one of Durham Cathedral that I took on our last visit, and a picture of the vintage Dainty Dinah Sweets tin that I purchased on eBay some years ago.
He eventually settle in the province of Saskatch-ewan, met a lovely French lady, and soon had three sons. In his personal documents, which we now carefully care for, was a baptism certificate from Durham Cathedral and records that showed that his father was a sweets salesman for Dainty Dinah. The journal that Fred kept as he journeyed to his new homeland was in a writing book with a distinctive colored hardcover. The entries often were very brief, and the last entry was posted on the day that he received the documents, confirming his ownership of his homestead.
He didn’t talk much about his home in Great Britain, so the family knew very little about his British family. We actually came to our “uninformed” conclusion that he probably was a Remittance Man. I checked Wikipedia for a definition, and this definition is exactly what I heard from his Canadian family;
Within Victorian British culture, this often meant the black sheep of an upper or middle-class family who was sent away (from the United Kingdom to the Empire), and paid to stay away. These men were generally of dissolute or drunken character, and may have been sent overseas after one or more disgraces at home. "Remittance men" also lived in several towns in the American and Canadian West. There were also remittance women' but they are rarely discussed in scholarly works. Many remittance men were sent to the Australian Colonies.
After meeting Dad’s sister, a retired Army nurse, who came to live with Dad, we were anxious to travel to England to meet more relatives for the first time. At one family gathering, a cousin came to our table and handed several small books to Ed, saying that it was time these books returned to their Canadian family. The books had the same cover as Dad’s journal, and we were told that they contained copies of letters that Dad had received from his father, offering help and support to his oldest son. The onion skin pages were fragile and faded, but we eventually were able to reproduce the writings to computer files, so that they could be shared with Ed’s brothers and their families. We also learned that the books were actually order books that included the onion skin and carbon paper for order copies from Dainty Dinah Sweets Company, the company where Ed’s grandfather worked for many years. I am including a couple of photos; one of Durham Cathedral that I took on our last visit, and a picture of the vintage Dainty Dinah Sweets tin that I purchased on eBay some years ago.
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| Dainty Dinah Sweets Tin |
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| Durham Cathedral |
C-fer, Our Country Cat
When we moved from the city to our present country location in 1975, we were willing to get pets to join our family, thinking it would help our son and daughter make the transition from city to rural living.
Kathy, our eight year old daughter had requested to have an orange cat, and Jason, our nine year old son wanted any kind of dog to play with. In short order, the orange cat arrived and was named 'Cfer' by our daughter, and an adult German Shepherd who loved the outdoors, became our son's constant companion.
Living in the country gave all of us a lot of freedom, as well as great neighbors, and we all adjusted quickly to our new home. Our kids are gone now, grown up and married with their own family and pets, and we are still “country bumpkins”, planning to remain here until the Handi Bus become our mode of transportation. The mother of this family, (that would be me) had never had much love for cats. Their personalities are interesting, but I hated cat hair all through the house, and especially on my black clothes.
C-fer did help to keep the mice population in our house to a minimum, and was very proud to drag any result of his hunting expeditions in the 'great outdoors', up a full flight of outside stairs to deposit his trophy (mice, gophers, moles, small birds, and the occasional rabbit) to the patio door by our kitchen. He also learned to accompany the dog down the road to meet the school bus, hoping that his favorite girl would carry him back home (which she often did). At night (and any other time he could get away with it) he would ignored his bed to sneak into his girl's bed.
When it was time for Kathy to attend university in another country, she found a new home in the neighborhood for C-fer, and I must admit that even I missed his antics. Kathy was always welcome to come by and visit her furry friends whenever she came home. Here is my favorite picture of C-Fer... taken in 1979.
Oh...I almost forgot to tell you about our country cat's name. If you haven't already figured it out, it was Kathy's idea (with some help from her father) to give her new furry friend a very cute name, even though she had never heard it before. It was the shortened version of 'C' for Cat! Can you guess our son's dog's name?
Kathy, our eight year old daughter had requested to have an orange cat, and Jason, our nine year old son wanted any kind of dog to play with. In short order, the orange cat arrived and was named 'Cfer' by our daughter, and an adult German Shepherd who loved the outdoors, became our son's constant companion.
Living in the country gave all of us a lot of freedom, as well as great neighbors, and we all adjusted quickly to our new home. Our kids are gone now, grown up and married with their own family and pets, and we are still “country bumpkins”, planning to remain here until the Handi Bus become our mode of transportation. The mother of this family, (that would be me) had never had much love for cats. Their personalities are interesting, but I hated cat hair all through the house, and especially on my black clothes.
C-fer did help to keep the mice population in our house to a minimum, and was very proud to drag any result of his hunting expeditions in the 'great outdoors', up a full flight of outside stairs to deposit his trophy (mice, gophers, moles, small birds, and the occasional rabbit) to the patio door by our kitchen. He also learned to accompany the dog down the road to meet the school bus, hoping that his favorite girl would carry him back home (which she often did). At night (and any other time he could get away with it) he would ignored his bed to sneak into his girl's bed.
When it was time for Kathy to attend university in another country, she found a new home in the neighborhood for C-fer, and I must admit that even I missed his antics. Kathy was always welcome to come by and visit her furry friends whenever she came home. Here is my favorite picture of C-Fer... taken in 1979.
Oh...I almost forgot to tell you about our country cat's name. If you haven't already figured it out, it was Kathy's idea (with some help from her father) to give her new furry friend a very cute name, even though she had never heard it before. It was the shortened version of 'C' for Cat! Can you guess our son's dog's name?
Bed Baths, Back Rubs and Breakfast by Beginners
It was September of 1958, and most of my nursing classmates were the same age as me, fresh out of high school and away from home for the first time. Life had certainly taken a turn. We had three weeks of classes to learn some basic nursing skills before our first assignment. In addition, we were also taught us how to properly “assemble” our uniform, and the importance of being on time. We were reminded to show respect to both the doctors and the patients wherever we met them. We still wondered if we knew enough to be able to do anything significant or helpful on a ward occupied by sick people, and would the staff nurses, who were much older and smarter, think we were just dumb kids?
The list of things (considered to be on our list of abilities) was longer than we realized; take temperatures, check pulse rates and blood pressure, give a patient a bedpan, and empty the results in the service room, and when all this information was gathered, we could sit in the record room with other nurses to update each patient's medical chart. We also could deliver meal trays, bouquets of flowers, and daily newspapers, and make sure that each patient had a jug of fresh water with an ample amount of ice cubes, as well as a clean glass.
We soon learned that most patients appreciated what we could do for them. It's not easy for some patient's to eat when not able to sit up, and we were there to help them by putting their meal in easy reach; even holding their spoon or fork to help get the food to their mouth without spilling it on the bed. Helping a patient change a position (from side to side), and giving them a back-rub, complete with applying a bit of alcohol to cool the skin, and baby powder to smooth the skin, resulted in many expressions of gratitude.
A bed bath was a challenge for us. If a patient was not able to get out of bed or do much for themselves, being clean was still important. We learned that giving an efficient full bath in a bed, without having everything soaking wet, was considered to be an “art”. Our instructor would come by to check on how we were doing, and corrected us when needed to improve, for the sake of the patient. As much as possible, we didn't invade the personal privacy of male patients because there were male 'orderlies' that we could call (thank goodness!)
That wasn't the case at the small country 19-bed hospital where I first worked as a graduate nurse... but that is another story.
The list of things (considered to be on our list of abilities) was longer than we realized; take temperatures, check pulse rates and blood pressure, give a patient a bedpan, and empty the results in the service room, and when all this information was gathered, we could sit in the record room with other nurses to update each patient's medical chart. We also could deliver meal trays, bouquets of flowers, and daily newspapers, and make sure that each patient had a jug of fresh water with an ample amount of ice cubes, as well as a clean glass.
We soon learned that most patients appreciated what we could do for them. It's not easy for some patient's to eat when not able to sit up, and we were there to help them by putting their meal in easy reach; even holding their spoon or fork to help get the food to their mouth without spilling it on the bed. Helping a patient change a position (from side to side), and giving them a back-rub, complete with applying a bit of alcohol to cool the skin, and baby powder to smooth the skin, resulted in many expressions of gratitude.
A bed bath was a challenge for us. If a patient was not able to get out of bed or do much for themselves, being clean was still important. We learned that giving an efficient full bath in a bed, without having everything soaking wet, was considered to be an “art”. Our instructor would come by to check on how we were doing, and corrected us when needed to improve, for the sake of the patient. As much as possible, we didn't invade the personal privacy of male patients because there were male 'orderlies' that we could call (thank goodness!)
That wasn't the case at the small country 19-bed hospital where I first worked as a graduate nurse... but that is another story.
Announcement: Alphabet Challenge All Over Again
The
first time I was told to consider writing blogs in the A-Z Challenge,
I told my friend that I didn’t have time, didn’t know what I
would write about, and to leave it to others who were better writers.
Another friend reminded me that I always have lots to say (invited or
not), so what would be so hard about writing a blog. When I
finally did get started, it got my ‘old brain’ in gear, and I
started to enjoy the exercise of deciding on a topic for each letter,
and getting my thoughts organized on paper.
I’m
here to announce, unless someone decides to “shut me down”, that
I’m going to try to do the challenge all over again. See what
happens when I receive such nice messages from friends, telling me
how much they enjoy my blogs, especially the “Armchair Travels”
that I have shared. It goes to my head!!! No promises on how long it
will take, or if I will even finish it, but my head is filled with
stories that that have come from the deep recesses of my memory, and
I’d would like to have a reason to write them down. I never kept a
consistent diary (or now called a journal), but the thousands of
photos the I have accumulated over many years… some black and
white, some colored that have now faded, many slides that I have
scanned during the last few years, and now, with the digital cameras
and computers, there is no limit to many “memory-making” photos
that I have stored on my computer. And… all of them have been
safely saved on DVDs for the family, and on my external drives.
So…
brace yourself! Decisions can be made. I have decided to write some
more blogs, you can decide whether to read them or not!
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