Monday, Jan. 24, 2005
3:30 p.m.

We took Emil to his new school this morning to have a look around, and as we drove into the parking lot Scott noticed (I am oblivious to most things outside my own head half the time) a small flock of mallard ducks that had landed on the roof of a house across the street. Now that's rare ... so we had to stop and snap a photo. Sorry it's not a close-up. At least it's evidence that I'm not imagining things.

The new school looks pretty swanky and Emil is looking forward to attending. His first full day will be next Tuesday.

***

A couple weeks ago a newspaper columnist tripped over this journal and contacted me to see if I'd agree to be interviewed. I said sure and we had a nice chat by telephone. He'd done his homework, had read enough of the journal to ask pertinent questions about what it is I've been doing in these pages for the past two years. One of his queries was "Why do you do it?" -- the question online journallers probably most ask themselves, too. I didn't have a definitive answer, other than that it seems a natural extension of what I've always done since I was a wee brattie, and that is to write letters and keep journals. The web is just another tool to add to the ease of communication, that's all.

Last night I was reading over at The Write Haven and came across the following list. These seem as good reasons to journal as any, whether privately or online, so I'm taking the liberty of re-posting them here ...

The Physical Benefits of Journal Writing
Studies conducted at Southern Methodist University, Ohio State University, University of Texas at Austin, and North Dakota State University show that the practice of writing provides both a sense of well-being and health benefits that include:
• Pain reduction.
• Immune function improvement, including raised T cell counts.
• Resistance to minor illnesses such as colds and flu.
• Relief of physical stress shown by lowered blood pressure and heart rate.
• Generally improved physical health.

So write, it's good for you! Write some more!

Saturday, Jan. 22, 2005
6:45 p.m.

Everett made a rather unique snowman today, while I slept off a migraine and Emil and Scott -- what were they up to? I don't really know. They didn't go anywhere, of that I'm fairly certain.

We had a bit of a scare yesterday when Mom called on the cellphone while on their way to the emergency room at the hospital. She'd had middle-back pain in the morning, but it had gone all around her chest and she couldn't take a deep breath without pain. She phoned her doctor, who advised her to go in and make sure it wasn't a blood clot or something else going on. Like a heart attack.

Scott and I went down to sit with her while Dad went home for supper. She still hadn't had any tests when we arrived at 7:30. But within the next two hours she had a c.t. scan and a chest x-ray, and both came back clear of whatever it is they were looking for. So chances are that the cancer has spread into her bones again. She'll go for a bone scan early in the week, and is not too thrilled about that. "I thought I was finished with that stuff for a while," she said, disappointed.

Cameron was flying in at 11 last night but the airport in Kelowna was too foggy for landing so the flight was sent back to Calgary and the passengers spent the night in a hotel. He got here early this morning.

Tuesday, Jan. 18, 2005
11:18 a.m.

Emil and Everett are home today because our steep driveway is an ice rink. It began raining during the night and continues to come down.

It will be necessary to borrow three eggs from upstairs in order to make the double batch of banana-bran muffins I started last night before realizing there was only one egg left. We'd had bacon and eggs for supper when Joan came to pick her little girlie up after spending the day with us. Scott did the cooking while Joan and I drank wine. Life is good.

The house is drafty. A shower should warm me up. Then it's work ... research on a list of 'screen legends' for a radio station.

 Sunday, Jan.16, 2005
10:28 a.m.

It is a lovely, peaceful Sunday morning. It is snowing outside, but has warmed up enough to be slightly less frigid here in the living room than it was last night. We’re getting serious winter weather now -- 20 below, and lower.

Last night after we got home from our meal with the upstairs neighbours, it was so chilly in here that I couldn’t sit in front of the TV (not that I wanted to; there was nothing interesting enough to keep me from my new stack of library books) and tucked myself into bed with some reading material instead. The bedroom is one of the warmest places in this house. The entire front of the building is windows, so when the thermometer dips -- brrr.

Mom called this morning to invite us for supper and would I come earlier so that Karen and I can put quilt batting together or something for her. I forget the terminology. Lay it out? I think it’s putting the stuffing in between the top and bottom layers.

I hope the road up here isn’t too slippery. We don’t have tire chains, as our upstairs neighbour now does. He'd gone out for groceries and couldn't get back up the road, so went and bought these.

We went up to their place about 4:30 yesterday and shared a meal and some wine. I didn’t tell Emil we were going until an hour before, and then he couldn’t keep this huge grin off his face. He really likes A and his wife, M, and while we were at their table he kept looking at her and smiling like an idiot in love. He is thrilled every time he manages to catch A out in the carport, too, as has happened in the photo at the top of this entry.

~ Aunt Reta, Uncle Carl, Mom, Dad ~

Kate, you know I, of all people, understand about you missing your prairie. Heck, I too, miss you being in the prairie - miss all those photos you'd put up. Skies and vistas and snowy sunrises and horses and frosty fenceposts and fields.

I'm glad you're having a bit of a break this week, at least some bit of lifting - though I'm sorry for the sleep trouble. And I'm glad your mom is feeling better and enjoying company. It's amazing to hear how all her daughters are around her, and other family, and friends. And I love to see photos of her, even those she wouldn't like. I hope YOU are being supported too.

Take care,
Bren

~ Am I missing the prairies? ~

8:46 a.m., Jan. 12, 2005
Wednesday

It’s snowing again, and Scott is gone to take the boys to the bus, or maybe all the way to school, as he sometimes does. I keep saying he is resting during his time here, but that isn’t really true. He has taken over my student transportation responsibilities, and does a considerable amount of shovelling. Those are time-consuming at the very least.

I haven’t been getting to sleep very easily over the past few days, and can only attribute it to the fact that I haven’t spent any time with Mom since last week. She’s feeling better than she has in a long time, though, so I’m not sure why I would be overly anxious right now. As a matter of fact, that heavy dark lump that rides around inside my chest when she’s unwell has disappeared since she took this upswing. What a relief that is, to feel normal again.

Mom’s sister, my Aunt Reta, is staying with her. They have been working on quilting squares and such, so Mom sits up in a chair in the living room most of the day, which is something she was unable to do for more than a few minutes before Christmas. Most days they have either friends stop in, or extended family, or one of my other sisters with their families, so I wait until there is a break to fit myself into their busy social calendar. Too much company at once, and for too long, tires Mom out and then she handles her pain less well. Dad gets tired too.

I sometimes find myself feeling resentful that I can’t spend as much time with my mother as I’d like to, though she says I can certainly stop in whenever I’d like. “It’s really only my family I care about being with right now,” she tells me. But I know they need their friends too. And I am not complaining about staying home more during the past week; I’ve gotten a few things accomplished around here, not least of which is a miniature cleaning frenzy to tidy up this place and restore some sense of visual order. I’ve got a nice work flow going, and managed some food prep -- salsa, granola, muffins, which are staples around here when I get them made.

Reta’s husband, my uncle Carl, flew in from Phoenix on Sunday. Emil is bound and determined he must also see Carl -- on Saturday we left the boys with Mom and Reta while we went to a mall in search of a certain piece of loungewear Mom wants, and Emil insisted on sitting next to Reta all afternoon and talking with her --so we are picking them up after school and driving over there for an hour or so.

Mom phones me every morning if I don’t call her first. She calls from the living room chair, needle and fabric in hand, and while we talk she carries on short bursts of conversation with Reta as well. They are having a wonderful visit, Mom says, working together on small quilting projects Mom is making for her friends and some that Reta is taking back with her to work on at home. “My friends have been so good to me since this happened, I want to give them something back.”

She finds herself surprisingly happy that Carl has come to visit. “We always -- Reta and I -- talk like he is nothing but a nuisance. We say we don’t need these men around, that we have a better time without them. We tease them, you know. But we are having a wonderful time, and I’m just so glad he’s here. I don’t know why ....”

It’s going to be a sad day when we take those two to the airport.

Friday, Jan. 7, 2005
6:23 p.m.

I am still in my pyjamas. Mom said, when she phoned and woke me at 10 one morning, "Your sisters have to slow down, and you need to get going!"

I stay up late. What can I say. Life o' Reilly.

I am baking oatmeal bread, bean and corn soup to go with it for supper, and a batch of salsa. I'll stay in my pyjamas if I want to — so there.

It's been snowing heavily since last night. Scott drove Everett to the schoolbus this morning but brought Emil home, concerned that the van might not make it all the way back up here by the afternoon. So Emil's had a holiday. The first thing he did was wash dishes; then he headed off to his room to listen to his CDs. This afternoon he spent an hour tearing meat off the chicken carcass so I could simmer it for soup. Exciting day for him.

I swear, some of the snowflakes were the size of small marshmallows.

Surely there is much news I could report, as my hours are full. Let's see: my aunt is here from Phoenix, staying with Mom and Dad. The first night she slept in the second twin bed in Mom's room and they talked till late; Dad apparently got up and closed their bedroom door at 4 a.m. Girls and their slumber parties.

Mom is feeling good enough to sit in the living room much of the day, though she still needs a painkilling shot in the shoulder or upper arm every few hours.

We bought a black forest cake for Dad's birthday and took it over to their place. As you can see (or maybe you can't), he wielded his fork like a pro.

~ ringing in the new year at 8:30 ~

Monday, Jan.3, 2005
12:30 p.m.

My boys have been back home since yesterday morning, so the house is full again. We've done nothing but hang about and relax. Might go out today for a while, to return movies and library books and pick up a few groceries.

It's Dad's birthday and I offered to take cake over this afternoon. Then some friends of theirs called and wanted to go over, which will mean too much company all at once or all in one day, so I said we'd bring the cake tomorrow instead. It's not only Mom who gets tired, it's Dad. He probably needs solitude more than she does.

She's feeling so good that she was up all day yesterday and has started cutting back on the pain medications. The other day she actually made a pudding. "I wanted to do something special for Emil," she said. She'd invited him over for some one-to-one time with her.

We watched De-Lovely last night. Or I did; Scott googled on the computer in the same room. I had my paper journal on my lap, figuring I'd scratch out a few thoughts during lags in the story. But there were none. I was captivated by every moment of it. It's not that I've been a Cole Porter fan; as a matter of fact, I knew very little about him. But biography fascinates me. Couple it with music and I'm a goner.

Friday, Dec. 31, 2004
11:45 a.m.

Scott is out shovelling the driveway so we can get out this afternoon and go to Mom and Dad’s. The photo above was taken yesterday; now there is twice as much snow as you see there.

While the boys and I were glad to see it had snowed during the night before Christmas, Scott’s feeling was that he’s worked in snow more than enough in his lifetime, and could have done without it now.

Can’t say as I blame him, particularly since there’s only one shovel here and he’s the one wielding it.

I got behind with some pictures. This one was taken when Grandma and my uncle Neil were here from Saskatchewan, and we had them over for supper.

On Boxing Day Mom was feeling well enough to be knitting, which is an improvement. Yesterday after they came from a doctor’s appointment, Dad reported that she actually stood at the kitchen counter and started preparing something. I hollered “What?!” loud enough that Scott came running out of the bedroom, where he’d been reading, to see what was the matter. It’s been so long since Mom had the energy to do anything in the kitchen.

Dad has taken to calling me every morning so I won’t “fret,” he says. He's getting trained to keep me in the know about what’s happening over there.

I haven’t seen Mom since Monday when we stopped in on our way to spend the night with friends after a meal out, but Mom is feeling well enough to make phone calls herself, so we talk every day at least once. I've been glad to spend some time at home after the past week of running around, and have managed to get some work done too, which will help get the rent paid.

Scott’s in now, announcing that the roads will be icy. I believe it. Last night we tried to go out for supper, and ended up turning around and coming home after going no further than the main road down below us. It was too slippery to risk driving on later at night, when there was already black ice to endanger life and limb.

Dad’s got supper in hand, he says, and we need only to bring a green salad and a couple cans of mushrooms. “Not fresh?” I asked, hoping. “Nope, don’t like ‘em,” he told me. He’s going to barbecue elk steaks that my brother-in-law brought from the farm.

Karen and Joan are up at Big White, skiing their buns off. I’m disappointed not to be able to bring in the New Year with my sisters, and we were invited to join them for their two nights up at the ski hill, but I wanted to be here in case something came up and also, maybe I’m being morbid, but this could be Mom’s last Christmas, her last New Year’s Eve. I don’t intend to miss the opportunity to spend them with her.

On Christmas Day she was tired so they left Joan’s early and went home. Scott and I surprised them later, knocking at their door to say “What’s the chance of getting a Christmas drink around here?”

“Pretty damn good,” Dad said, and pulled out a bottle of rye.

I went in and sat by Mom’s bed and we talked for three hours before Nurse Don suggested she get some sleep, that she’d been overdoing it lately. When she’s tired, she has more pain.

She seems to really enjoy having company now that she’s starting to feel better. And I in my turn am greedy for time spent with her, especially when her bad days have outnumbered her good ones over the past month or two. If this does turn out to be our last Christmas together, I will have a warm memory of those happy hours we spent talking.

This is the quilt we slept under when we stayed with our friends Monday night. And below is the new crop of pigs around our house since Christmas. Scott gave me the one on the left, and I gave him the piggy bank on the right. The collection just keeps growing.

~ Christmas Eve gift opening begins ~

Monday, Dec. 27, 2004
7 p.m.

You know I love ya, but I have only a half hour to shower, change, and hit the road. We're heading for Winfield to spend the evening with Gloria and Roy, and will spend the night there. If I don't wangle out of it tomorrow, Gloria and I are going cross-country skiing.

While Dad, Scott, and my brother-in-law Dick went to the airport to pick up my brother Cameron on Christmas Eve, we gals played a few rounds of Scattergories. Above is my ma, myself, and my beautiful sisters. I'm the one behind the chair, trying to be like the old woman who, as Isabelle Allende wrote in a book I just started reading, Portrait in Sepia, was "happily counting her wrinkles."

~ my niece Danielle, and Dad and Mom ~

~ me and my #1 son ~

And now we must hustle.

xoxo
etc
Kate