Sat 14 Jan 2005

Because we have about a foot of snow, trekking through the fields in my winter boots gets me out of breath quickly. So most days I take shorter walks — one or two of them — and stick close to the roads or tractor trails. I dream of cross-country skis to glide over the snow, away from traffic on the grid.

There haven't been many blue-sky days since we returned from BC; no, it's been such bright white some days that the word that came to me to describe it was an overused one: pristine. The land and sky are white, white, white; some days, the trees are too.

The photo above was taken on a foggy day, not a sparkly white one. We've had unusually frequent fog and hoarfrost this winter, and mild temperatures hovering around the freezing point. Heck, winter will be over in three months and we haven't had any serious cold yet.

Thurs 12 Jan 2006

Here you go, Karen. The front of the house, above -- however, the living room is an addition on the right side, and I didn't get it into the photo.

Below is a poor picture of the kitchen. Sorry Karen, you have to take what you can get for now. Joan bought a digital camera before we left so maybe she'll take some better ones before too long.

The drive home through the Rockies wasn't nearly as torturous as the caravan out there on Christmas Eve, with all the fools on the busy highway. It was actually rather pretty:

~ see how those mountains block the view? ~

Wed 11 Jan 2006

No time to update, other than to say the drive through the Rockies in inclement weather on Christmas Eve was a whiteknuckle affair, but we survived (though sadly others didn't) and got back home safely.

Karen, here are some of the pictures I got of Joan's new house. The one above is the view of the lake from the front doorstep.

Here's Bumbonius in the library.
 
 
Scott and Joan were playing Yahtzee at the dining room table.

You know who, in the kitchen.

There are more to follow, but that's it for now.

Merry Christmas to You

xoxo
etc

Kate

Back in the day, my little sister and I must have been inseparable. A good sidekick, she was. Nowadays I don't see nearly enough of her, though she lives only 20 minutes away.

She's still just as cute though.

Isn't that picture on the left quintessential of the times? The old cabinet TV, the TV trays, and the portrait of an aunt, the nurse, at her graduation? Doesn't every family, every pair of sisters, have an old photo exactly like this one?

If I'm not mistaken, the photo on the right shows the stairs I hurried down on the night Mom got me out of bed to see the Beatles' first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show. Sadly, they weren't singing beetle bugs as I'd expected.

Life is full of stinging disappointments.

When I say I'm from a small town, people picture something with five or ten thousand people. Their eyes bug out when I say no, no, the population was about 250 when I was growing up. Now it's about half that.

Among Aunt Jean's photos I found this aerial view. Only one grain elevator is still standing.

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I have the house to myself again today. It's time to start preparing for the trip to Kelowna, via Calgary, that begins early Friday morning. There are a couple more gifty things to pick up in town, but aside from that all there really is to do is pack and make some kind of lunch for the first 10-hour leg of the trip. And try to leave this place reasonably neat and tidy so it's a pleasure to walk back into.

Okay Reta ... whose house is this, where is it, and who is standing out in front of it? Is it the "great-great" ancestors before they came out west from Ontario?

And this ... are these guys with Grandpa Jack his brothers?

~ my great-grandfather on the right ~

I have a stack of at least half a dozen photo albums filled with pictures that Aunt Jean collected throughout her lifetime. Some of them must have belonged to her parents and her aunt. There are even postcards that appear to be from Grandpa Jack to my great-grandmother in their early courting days. Quite the little treasure trove I have been given here.

Going through some pictures of Dad's the other day, I found this one I hadn't seen before. I believe this is me and Mom. In most every picture of me as a child I'm screwing up my face or scratching my ass or making some kind of weird contortion. Oh wait ... pictures of me as an adult aren't that much different.

I was counting the time spent in Kelowna and realize that we were there for nine months. You know how they say, what goes around comes around? So: Mom carried me for nine months until I was born, and I helped carry her for nine months until she died. Seems a kind of poetic justice in that. She ushered me in, I ushered her out.

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At Grandma's birthday party my aunt, sister, niece, cousin and I sat at her kitchen table and talked about people's idiosyncracies regarding food. I admitted that I hurry through finger food so I can get my hands clean and dry again. I do not like messy eats. Honestly. I love oranges, but they're sticky and juicy ... so I'll pass them by for a piece of dry bread. I love lobster, but hate mucking about with the shell. An open bag of potato chips on my lap while I drive? Scarf 'em down, get them the hell out of here. Stuff like that.

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Off to the doc this afternoon with Emil, who has been home all week, so stuffed up it's pathetic. He's feeling better now, but still not 100%. My cousin reminded me that sometimes regular chiropractic treatment can make a difference, so I've made an appointment for that. And two readers have written to say that allergies can cause what appear to be frequent colds; so today I will put the wheels in motion to have Emil checked for allergies. Thanks to all of you for your helpful suggestions. Maybe we'll get to the bottom of this yet.

~ living room, still upside down ~

Thurs 15 Dec 2005
9:37 a.m.

It’s been three years since I moved into Scott’s little house. More than three. I have been meaning to get curtains for the living room, which is in the basement, but was never sure what would look best on the short, high windows there. I'm still not sure, but recently stumbled onto some olive-coloured cotton ones that go well with both sets of furniture we now have. Last night I decided it was time to get them up, and railroaded Scott into hanging the rods. I dug the iron from the storage room and starting pressing out the creases while he installed the rods.

He was working on the second window as I sat on the couch and admired the newly dressed first window, whose curtains he had hung while I ironed the second set. It looked so good! I imagined phoning Mom the next day to tell her, and how she would be happy that I had finally got some curtains.That’s when I remembered: I can’t phone Mom. Then came the tears, in copious amounts.

Ah dear. What can you do, but let them come.

... across the road from our yard today ...