%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| September 8th Prompt: A practice I can begin to help me let go of negative emotions and return to a state of peace is ... I suppose we're not referring to tantrums in which items are flung willy-nilly, unrepeatable words turn the air blue, feet are stomped, arms wave wildly, jaws clamp, eyes glare and a temporary meltdown ensues. This explosive behaviour seems to work for some people. A certain person once acted like this when he discovered that the cathedral ceiling he climbed up a swaying ladder to access was for some inexplicable reason not built square to the outside wall. Tools flew through the air and clattered to the floor. The ladder shook. Witnesses slunk away. After this physical and loud reaction, the homeowner returned to his dilemma with a clear mind and a solution. He realised that he could accept the limitations of an older structure. His renovations were not wasted. He had just needed to vent his frustration. What practice could I begin to achieve a sense of peace? First I would ditch any and all electronics. Going cold turkey I'd leave my cell phone at home. Nothing is that earth-shatteringly important. For a respite no one needs to communicate with me. In my youth I survived without someone tracking my every move. I would seek the solace of a woodland hike. Free of traffic noise, I'd amble along. No shrieking sirens, no blaring horns, no engine rumbles, no squealing brakes,no grumbling exhausts. I'd revel in the warm sun and a gentle breeze caressing my skin. Quite possibly I'd notice a muted chick-a-dee-dee-dee echoing around me. Leaves might rustle as they swayed in the green canopy above me. From lofty branches a chirring might mark my trek into the forest. Blues, greys and reds could flash overhead. Shimmering fingers of sunlight would beckon me. A daily retreat to hike without an end goal, or a set time frame could be revitalizing. Setting one foot in front of the other and breathing at a steady pace, sounds relaxing. What am I waiting for? |
| September 7th Prompt: You've been chosen to speak at a zoom conference in your chosen field. Over 5oo people will attend. Each is new to your field and want to hear words of advice. What will you say to them? What did you wish to know when you started? What did I wish to know? I'd like to have some idea of what Zooming is. I've never Zoomed. I'm not a Zoomer. Why is it called Zoom? Is this anything like Skype 'cause I do not Skype either. Wait, was this invented by a Twitterer? Did someone conceive of a tweet complete with a beaming face? Should I confess that most of my life I've been content to speak with people via phone lines without staring into their eyes at the same time? Face-timing is a new concept for me and while I enjoy seeing my two-year old grandgiggle we spend the majority of our call making faces at each other for laughs. Most of my contacts of an 'older' age do not Facetime. They prefer a face-to-face next to each other in the same vicinity for a conversation. If this is not possible, they will settle for a lengthy chat via a phone link. So, Zooming is for meetings and trainings? Really? Again, this is a concept foreign to me. Wouldn't there be a great deal of "can you hear me?" , or "hey, over here, look at me, can you see me?" I know of trainings in which at least one 'student' talks incessantly during the lesson drowning out the instructor's voice. Would a Zooming be any different? Five hundred strangers would tune in, or is it Zoom in to listen to me? That's four hundred and ninety-nine too many pairs of ears. I'm perspiring and cringing at the thought. This is too much like public speaking. Poof! Just like that the hydro has disappeared. I am now typing this on my cellphone. Huh, this could make for an awkward Zoom encounter. Five hundred teeny tiny floating faces... |
| September 6th Prompt: Do you love your job/career? Tell us why you love it, and why did you choose this career and not something else. Job? Career? For a few years, I've been my own boss. Some might say I'm semi-retired. Sure, I handle the paperwork and the accounting for 'our" transport truck, but I do not drive it. The hubby enjoys that aspect. I suppose I keep the home fires burning. Since it's believed that I have untold time on my hands, I am the one available to run errands upon request. Do I love my current job ? Meh, I don't dislike it. The tea is plentiful and hot. Sometimes, the management bakes scrumptious muffins and cookies. I enjoy unlimited internet access. I drive a company vehicle. There are no fixed hours. I have no plans to quit. |
| September 5th Prompt: What is the best thing to come out of staying at home? Ah, there's always a silver lining to any situation. Staying home isn't all that bad. Sure, Covid forced us to forfeit most of our forays and our get-togethers. It curtailed our freedoms. It limited our interactions, the face-to-face of our meetings. It did not squelch our spirit, or our sense of humour.We are so much more than a virus. I have grown to like the grunge look, or as some would say the casual dress code. I am comfortable in my own skin and I 've never felt the need to dress to impress myself. Lately, my choice of attire does not aspire to speak to anyone. Colour matching is not a criteria. My power suit rarely features buttons, or zippers. Comfy and loose-fitting are all I need. Footwear is not a necessity, in fact I prefer barefeet. Eschewing form -fitting outfits has permitted me to grow unfortunately. Rediscovering the joy of cooking and baking has necessitated the need for taste-testing and sampling. I am human and cannot resist the tantalizing aromas my efforts create. My new motto is if I bake it I will not forsake it. Cookies and I have formed a bond. Besides satisfying my insatiable sweet tooth I've endeavoured to assuage my appetite for reading. With cinemas shuttered I amuse myself absorbing great stories. I kinda appreciate that their cost of admission is far less than the expense of theatre tickets. With the minimal effort of clutching a book and turning pages I am transported beyond the confines of my four walls. Of course, staying home increases my odds of remaining Covid-free and that's a compelling reason to do so. There's no place like home. |
| September 4th Prompt: If the Internet disappeared tomorrow, how would you continue to share your love of food? Hmmm, another what if contemplation. As I sit and ponder I munch on a graham cracker discovered in a concealed box forgotten in the pantry. No, I did not think to check for an expiry date before I partook of a bite. I must have purchased this treat some time within the last year, or two. They taste unstale. It's an alternative to a cracker, not too salty, or too sweet. Why don't I eat these more often? I like a graham cracker even without the usual camouflage of marshmallow and chocolate, ( a s'more). Double hmmm, I am sharing this particular tidbit via the internet. How could I accomplish this earth-shattering feat without the mighty internet? This is the moment I divulge that I do not nurture a bevy of carrier pigeons basking on my roof growing rotund on a steady supply of bird seed. Really, how far could big-boned birds fly anyway on a moment's notice? I have no faith in their stamina. Oh, and don't carrier pigeons require training of some sort? Where would I have accessed such knowledge? A You Tube instructional video sourced from the internet? Not that I make this a regular practice, but if I wished to share a tantalizing pic of my food choices online and circulated amongst my Facebook compadres, what could possibly be an alternative? Facebook is somewhat immediate, isn't it? The resulting reactions are, too. Snapping and then pursuing the actual printing of a photo before I snail-mailed it to all pertinent contacts would be time-consuming. If this provoked any replies they would be received long past a time I cared. During that interval I'd have moved on to other pressing concerns and probably other foodie concerns. I suppose I could actually meet with people , right? I could host a phenomenon known as a dinner party. To that end I'd prepare a certain amount of delectables. Seeing and tasting is believing. Wait, why not share a plethora of food? Everyone could contribute their favourite dishes in the manner of a potluck meal. Now, my mouth is watering and I commiserate with Pavlov's salivating dog. The power of persuasion is strong. No matter if the Internet exists or not, this evening I plan to enjoy a raucous bbq meal with my family at our seasonal campsite. We will share ribs, laughter and non-stop conversation. A few friends may drop in, so the more the merrier. Sharing face to face will always be my preferred method. |
| September 3rd prompt: What is the hardest part of your job? Tell us how you deal with it. Job? Full disclosure. I no longer am employed gainfully, or otherwise. I have not responded to a schedule, or a timeclock, or expectations for several years now. That's not to say I am completely idle. People find projects and errands to keep me busy. Sometimes,I'm the chauffeur for medical appointments. Sometimes, I ferry items between persons, so I act as a courier. Occasionally, I am asked to be an entertainer, a teacher, a clown, a snuggler and a play buddy for my two-year old grandgiggle. The two older granddaughters seek my assistance with homework and they utilize me as a sounding board. My services are varied. For the past forty three years I've toiled as the chief chef, bottle washer, acquisitions procurer, and accounts manager in my household. Some may refer to this as juggling, but it's all necessary, no? Yes, I did once venture forth to earn a living and contribute to society. During that period in my life I visited people in their homes and assisted them / supported them to maintain their independence. Personal dignity was key. A rapport developed between me and my clients. Everyone likes to talk and share. I never failed to marvel at the tenacity and the compassion of my mainly senior clients. Not once did I loathe our interactions. I anticipated their stories and insights. What did I dislike? There was never enough time allotted to satisfy the seniors' need for socialization. All my visits were exercises in time management.Chatting was squeezed in while bathing, cooking, cleaning and more. If shopping, or other errands were deemed necessary they ate into the scheduled visit. Did I deal ? Did I cope? As I already stated, time management was critical. I multi-tasked. I deferred the least important tasks so, I prioritized. If a client lived locally, I might take care of the errands on my own time. As with too many jobs, bureaucracy could be overbearing. After each visit, I was expected to write and submit a report. I understand this requirement, but I had issues with the fact that they were seldom read. I'd mention problems and they were ignored. Ah, well, this was all water under the bridge and I survived. I do miss hearing the varied bits of living history. |
| September 2nd Prompt: Where do you see yourself five years from now? Where will I be in five years? What will I be doing? Hmmm, short answer is I dunno. At this moment, I have no plans for that far in the future. Sometimes, I am loathe to consider five minutes into the future. Of course, I would like to still be alive and kicking in five years. Ideally, I'd like to experience life as an older version of myself. Within that all too brief span I plan to continue being the me that indulges in too many delectable cookies and sips copious cups of tea.There are thousands more conversations to enjoy. Heaven forbid that I no longer engage in chin wags with those dearest to me and those I hope to encounter. I plan to continue my enthusiastic involvement with my life partner, my children and my grandgiggles.There are joint adventures yet to be undertaken. In five years I will have rearranged, reconfigured, and reaffirmed a plethora of words.I have no plans to cease writing. Oh, and did I mention the joy of reading? For my entire existence I've been an avid reader. Everyday is a grand day to devour a story. I am certain I will never be bored. Perhaps in five years time hubby and I will be touring North America in a RV meandering along roadways that beckon us to explore them. Becoming gypsies could be fun. If I set that as my future, I should utilize the next years to downsize, purge, cull a lifetime of accumulating stuff. After all, isn't it said that we can't take it with us? |
| PROMPT September 1th Well, let's get this official month started with a different sort of prompt... What room in your home do you use the most? The least? Sigh, all the rooms of my home are currently gathering and supporting dust bunnies. There may be a few musty tumbleweeds roaming at will as well. Quite possibly cob webs festoon neglected corners. Yes, the scatterbrained maid has been vacationing all summer putting her feet up and lifting nothing heavier than a paperback novel. I doubt visions of a feather duster dance in her head. I, er, um, the maid has retreated to a seasonal trailer tucked into a serene forest bordering a freshwater lake. Her favourite room has no walls whatsoever. Day after day, this weary dust warrior settles into a comfy chair and props her legs up on a cushioned ottoman. Oh, her special piece of heaven isn't entirely silent. Out on the wooden deck, the steady whisper of turning pages is accompanied by a cacophony of constant sound. In a nearby towering pine tree, an agitated red squirrel slashes his tail and chitters in a rat-a-tat fashion. From the ground, a vibrating chipmunk with disheveled fur 'harrumps' in reply. Both parties attempt to out shout the other. Flashes of blue streak across my the languishing maid's peripheral vision and foliage rustles, branches snap. Blue jays chase each other in an aerial game of tag. Echoes of chick-a-dee-dee-dee reverberate. A skittering, scrabbling startles the engrossed reader and she looks up from her novel to witness a cheeky chipmunk, its scruffy tail at attention, saunter across the deck's floor to her feet. The encounter is brief. The red squirrel scampers up the ramp with a high-pitched 'chirr' and his target skedaddles. It may well have been my her imagination, but the floorboards rumbled. Something whines and buzzes about my her head. Careful to keep at least one finger tucked into her book, the disturbed reader swooshes it through the air swatting at the determined intruder. A caressing breeze carries muted hoots and laughter from the direction of the lake. Motors grumble to full roar. Snatches of music swirl. With a sigh, I, oops, she rises to her feet, stretches, and shuffles into the humid trailer. In her least favourite room, the stuffy kitchen, she rifles through a cupboard in search of a snack. From the fridge, she retrieves a cold drink. Returning to the deck, she once again settles into her favoured reading spot. It's the waning days of August and too soon she will be forced to return home to await the return of winter. Maybe she will tackle the dust then. |
| Groan. The racket has once again awakened me at the ridiculous hour of four in the morning. What could the squawking birds be sharing the moment the sun clears the horizon ? What do they have to be chipper about? Do they ever sleep? Can't they hear their raucous, amplified voices? Punching my pillow and rolling over I wonder if an RV exists with soundproofing. My right hand fumbles at the window and reaffirms that it's closed. Where are these early birds perched? Are they directly overhead? Do they expect me to stumble from my warm bed and revel with them? I may be half asleep, but I know I did not request a wake-up call. I'm camping, I don't need an alarm. Try as I might, I have no idea what they are declaring / sharing / blaring. Great, now I'm wide awake and my brain is considering this. Hmm, what are they saying? Is it a conversation? Should I feel paranoid? Are they commenting about me? Have I offended them with my desire to sleep in at least until dawn arrives? Wait, is it dawn now? Since I clearly am alert and thinking, I begin an attempt to translate this intimate exchange I cannot avoid. I am not an eavesdropper. There are no hushed tones or efforts to move this cacophony elsewhere. Is this what they are saying? "It's returned! It's back again! Do you see it, Bill? The darkness has disappeared and the sun is glorious." "Yep, it sure has,Flip. I never tire of seeing that sun. The way it beams through the branches is breathtaking. I wouldn't miss this moment." "Got any plans for today, Bill? Where are you off to?" "Don't you ask me that same question every morning, Flip? You're nothing if not predictable. I dunno. I might check out that new bird feeder on the other side of the park. I'm curious what they have. I'm not a fan of those sunflower seeds." "I'd like to find a secluded branch and catch a quick nap. The kids kept me up all night with their chirping. I threatened to sit on them, but the wife shot me a glare. When I built that nest it seemed so roomy. Now it's crowded." "You did scout the perfect location. I envy your lake view. That branch is a sweet one for sure. Are you thinking of renovations?" "Naw, the missus will be kicking them out of the nest soon enough. I can wait it out. Have you spied any grounded, featherless, two-leggers yet?" "Not a one. The day is passing them by. They're cooped up in their shiny cocoons.It's a shame." "Well,I'm more than ready for that me time now. See you around, Bill. Oh bother, the wife is screeching. I tell you there's never a dull moment with those chicks." "See you at the next sunrise, Flip. I'll just stretch my wings now. I feel kinda peckish." Oh, wonderful. They'll be back to torture me anew tomorrow. Bill, Flip, could you please turn down the volume? I'd appreciate it. |
| Lounging in my new comfy camp chair, lamenting the humidity and avoiding any unnecessary exertion, I noticed the tag of another seat hanging limply. Since it could be said that I appeared to be idling my mind decided to follow along. I realized that I'd never read this tag. My eyes were not perspiring at that moment, so they indulged my whim. Despite being mildew stained the bit of material seemed to be intact with legible printing. Its host chair presented as tattered and weathered. The canvas sported burn scars proof that this outdoor furniture had been present at many a roaring campfire. Huh, this tag discretely dangling for numerous summers was a warning label. How had I missed this? This chair had been proffered to family and friends alike. What dangers had lurked? What precautions had I ignored? Apparently, I've been remiss in not weighing the sitters before they relax. According to the first line of the tag this chair has a maximum load capacity of 102 kilograms, or 225 pounds. I've never thought to embarrass my guests. I put their comfort, their ease, their very privacy before their safety. The second line urges a potential user to "exert care during assembly / disassembly of frame so that fingers are not pinched." Obviously, this does not refer to a theft, but I robbed everyone of this specific alert. Yes, this chair doesn't require assembly because it simply folds, or unfolds, but I should have at least issued a "be careful." The manufacturer reiterated "exceeding maximum seated weight capacity may cause personal injury and / or damage to product: user must ensure weight is evenly distributed." First, this assumes that a user will indeed sit. There are occasions when a chair acts as a temporary step ladder. I must admit I've never considered the conscious effort of even weight distribution. My weight is contained. When I drop / flop / submit to a chair it's all or nothing. Where could a potential sitter shift their weight? Don't most butts spread during the act of sitting; isn't this a reflex? Should I chastise guests and correct posture? Do I presume every sitter is new to the science, the intricacies of sitting? The wording of this next caution is my favourite. "To avoid injury and product failure, any user should carefully enter / exit fabric seating." Sigh, there's that word 'careful' again. Who stops to map out a sitting strategy? Should intentions be expressed? "Just so everyone knows, I plan to park myself in that grey chair over there next to the tree. Yes, that'll be an entry. Be quiet now. We don't want to spook it. I'll approach slowly. Does it look to be agreeable? Hi, may I sit with you? I'm just gonna lower myself nice and easy. You let me know if I need to redistribute my weight, okay?" |
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