Leetle Bateese has been doing exercises for his eye muscles. They're as simple as looking at a succession of high-contrast black and white shapes, each on one 8 x 10 sheet of paper, several times a day. He'd been doing it for a week by the time I arrived in Kelowna, and his Gran had seen marked improvement, she said. She is so good with him; she talks to him loudly, steadily and in her animated, lilty Scottish accent and he answers her back with opinionated gusto, loving it.

After I'd been there three days, I thought I too saw a difference in his ability to focus on my face.

And when Joan sent these pictures the other day, my immediate excited response was that his eyes seem 10 times better than they were when I left Kelowna. When he looked directly at me once while I was there, it was a big deal. It wasn't often either eye came into line with my face. Here Stinkerfella is looking at the camera; it is an achievement.

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What, this old thing?

Went to see Grandma yesterday. Everett was with me and we found her with Pearl, walking the hallway at the lodge. Pearl is Grandma's elder by one year; age 91 or maybe even 92 by now. She loves Everett, gasps at his sudden new heights, tells me what a goodlooking boy he is. Later in Grandma's room I tease him, saying she's flirting with him. He blushes and giggles. Grandma says, "Why not?"

***

"I lived in solitude in the country and noticed how the monotony of quiet life stimulates the creative mind."
-- Albert Einstein

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Something isn't right with my nephew Ben's eyes, and my sister Joan has been worrying herself sick over it. I managed to find a Westjet seat sale and hop a plane over to Kelowna last Sunday. Everett's dad anted up with a ticket for him too, so that meant he and his cousin Jordan could play together constantly. I don't know how many 15-year-old boys will entertain 5-year-old girls by the hour, but the two of them had at least one interest in common: internet games, which Everett can't play at home due to our dialup connection's slowness. Usually I'd walk up behind them and Everett would be playing while Jordan watched happily.

~I always feel 100 years old beside my baby sister~

Everett picked up the camera as we were leaving Joan's for the return flight home. He caught Jordan in the laundry room, gathering her stuffed animals for the car ride, and Joan and me in the library. No photo of Baby Ben! Tsk. How did I manage that, after three days in the house? I'm having Ben withdrawal now.

This is the weather we flew home to. Snowy, cold, November. The horses were feeling frisky.

Ben got in to see a pediatrician on Friday, by the way, and indeed there are eye issues and he needs to see an ear/nose/throat specialist.

***

One day as I was leaving our house, I hugged Emil goodbye in the porch and Everett called from the kitchen, "Wait, can I hug you?" and after he'd done so, added "Did you notice I"ve learned not to squeeze you too hard?" He now weighs 200 pounds, apparently, and as he is a big bruiser I am thankful he has laid off the wrestler hugs.

Recently this big bruiser stepped through a door ahead of me and I realized it was time to teach him some manners. I pointed out to him that he must hold doors open for women. Why? he wondered. Because it's good manners, I told him. If you decide not to display them, you can take the consequences, but it's my job to make sure you know what good manners are. The very next time we stepped up to a door at the same time, he reached out and opened the door for me.

Of course there was some discussion about this whole business. I explained why some women get angry if a guy holds a door for them—not that it's ever made much sense to me—and said that if I get to a door first, I hold it for whoever is coming, be it man or woman. It's common courtesy. And I always thank whoever holds a door for me; I don't take it for granted.

~Mom's wedding/engagement ring
set, safely out of dishwater when I
work in the kitchen~ the little holder
came from Grandma's house after
she moved to the lodge~

Grandma is so small. I should measure her for the hell of it. She was only 4'10" to start with, and has been shrinking. She weighs 82 pounds. I always kiss her goodbye—she holds her face up and purses her lips—and say "I'll talk to you tomorrow." When I telephone, it's rare to catch her in her room. She doesn't miss anything that goes on around there: church services, bingo, exercises, card games, you name it. Mix that in around three square meals and afternoon tea time, and she's busy.

Her hair has a tendency to spread out flat on the back of her head and sweep forward. She can't see the back and probably doesn't realize how it looks. I brushed it and said, "You've got Einstein's hair!" and she laughed. It's white and frames her face in a halo of fluff.

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Aunt Alma stayed in a nurses' residence in Whitehorse, and this must be one of her friends relaxing on the screened-in verandah. I am particularly drawn to this photo; it is one I intend to keep and frame.

***

"Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in feeling creates love."--Lao Tzu

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This is Whitehorse, Yukon, back in the day.

When my great aunt, Aunt Jean, died in November 2005, following closely behind Mom, to whom she was close, I was the lucky gal who became the keeper of her photo albums. Aunt Jean, in her turn, had been the lucky gal who got to keep her Aunt Alma's photographs after her aunt passed, and so I now have those, too. I know, I know ... some of us have all the luck.

My great-great Aunt Alma was a nurse during the Second World War and worked around the world in that capacity. I have tacked to my office wall a wide-angle portrait of the staff at the Canadian General Hospital in England, taken in 1942. Among many other wonderful photos.

Aunt Alma also worked up in Whitehorse. After reading Pierre Berton's book about the gold rush in the Yukon, the photo above particularly pleases me. The people who went up there to make their fortune were indeed overjoyed to make it over the rapids, and in the photo above (a studio print, about 5" x 7"), the Clifford Sifton's passengers demonstrate their exuberance at making the treacherous journey successfully. Many hundreds of hopefuls did not survive it, whether they went by land or sea.

I have a good number of these old sepia-toned photos and, not wanting them to languish on a shelf unseen for the next 40 years, many months ago I contacted the McBride Museum in Whitehorse and offered to send scans so they could tell me whether they'd be interested in my making a gift of the photographs.

I've only just gotten around to doing the scanning; but now I'm having second thoughts about giving the photos away. There are some I'd like to frame and display on a wall, especially since I am soon to have more wall space. (If we ever get that far; gee, this subdivision process is dragging. It's been over four months already.) And, I haven't yet asked all my relatives if they'd like to have any of these pictures, either.

If you're reading this, cousins, and you're interested, get in touch.

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The birthday boy, with his requested chocolate-chocolate chip cupcakes.

My cousin Gerald and his family were visiting his parents in Margo over the weekend, so Emil and I took a drive in that direction yesterday afternoon. I asked Gerald's wife, Cory, if they happened to need a kitten. Her reply was "No; not unless you have three. We need one for each of the kids."

I did a happy dance in my head. They stopped in this morning on their way home, and picked up the orphans. I'm not sure who rejoiced more — me or the three kids.

***

Here's Everett heading for the post office on Thursday to mail away some school assignments. He walks a little like Charlie Chaplin, I like to tell him. He still doesn't know who that is.

Emil reminded me yesterday that it's Everett's birthday tomorrow. It snuck up on me; I have no gift bought, and no plans for celebration. Will take him shopping and bake a cake, that oughtta do it. Neither of these boys have ever asked for anything, let alone been demanding, so it shouldn't be too tough to make Everett feel special. He turns 15.

***

Dad and Grace have emailed a couple pictures taken down in the States, at the Grand Canyon and at the place they're renting near Phoenix for the next couple months. If he ever smiles in one, I may (only with permission, of course) post one here for those of you who know him. Wouldn't want you to think he is as miserable as he looks, when the reality is that he's enjoying life again, thanks to having Grace in it.

I'm not one to smile for the camera either, so I shouldn't talk.

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Every once in a blue moon, I take a photo that is not half bad; one that looks the way I see myself when I look in a mirror. Most of the time my reaction to seeing myself in a picture is Oh my god am I really that homely??? Thank goodness that's not what I see in mirrors; but then, none of our rooms have good lighting. A lot of my women friends feel the same way about their own images. And I can't blame my case on my aging face and body; even in my youthful prime, I looked like shit in pictures.

Here I've just gotten out of a nice soak (never long; I get too warm and then weak) and am ready to go with Pat, Scott's mother who is also a good friend to me, to a potluck with the Likeminded Ladies. We are supposed to go in Halloween costume but mine are buried somewhere in the after-flood chaos of this house. I'm taking an apple pie instead and hope that will get me through the door. I can be the photographer.

That's Emil's arm on the chair behind me. He likes to hang on it and look at me, close-up, and chat. I hate the way the chair wiggles and wobbles, but haven't been successful in getting him to balance himself on something else -- the desk, for instance.

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Yep. Crop circles were front page news in the local paper last week. I am too lazy to type out the full story for you. Suffice it to say that the farmer cannot explain them.

I was walking the other evening before sunset and saw the strangest light on the trees; had to try to get a picture of it.

And of course, the kind of photo you've begun to hate me for ... I can never get enough of this view ... but Everett saw snowflakes yesterday. It won't be long till everything is white.

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